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diff --git a/2574-h/2574-h.htm b/2574-h/2574-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..74eb93e --- /dev/null +++ b/2574-h/2574-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6019 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + On the Frontier, by Bret Harte + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Frontier, by Bret Harte + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: On the Frontier + +Author: Bret Harte + +Release Date: May 18, 2006 [EBook #2574] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE FRONTIER *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + ON THE FRONTIER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Bret Harte + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>AT THE MISSION OF SAN CARMEL</b></big> + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> <big><b>A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> <big><b>LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN.</b></big> + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + AT THE MISSION OF SAN CARMEL + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLOGUE + </h2> + <p> + It was noon of the 10th of August, 1838. The monotonous coast line between + Monterey and San Diego had set its hard outlines against the steady glare + of the Californian sky and the metallic glitter of the Pacific Ocean. The + weary succession of rounded, dome-like hills obliterated all sense of + distance; the rare whaling vessel or still rarer trader, drifting past, + saw no change in these rusty undulations, barren of distinguishing peak or + headland, and bald of wooded crest or timbered ravine. The withered ranks + of wild oats gave a dull procession of uniform color to the hills, + unbroken by any relief of shadow in their smooth, round curves. As far as + the eye could reach, sea and shore met in one bleak monotony, flecked by + no passing cloud, stirred by no sign of life or motion. Even sound was + absent; the Angelus, rung from the invisible Mission tower far inland, was + driven back again by the steady northwest trades, that for half the year + had swept the coast line and left it abraded of all umbrage and color. + </p> + <p> + But even this monotony soon gave way to a change and another monotony as + uniform and depressing. The western horizon, slowly contracting before a + wall of vapor, by four o'clock had become a mere cold, steely strip of + sea, into which gradually the northern trend of the coast faded and was + lost. As the fog stole with soft step southward, all distance, space, + character, and locality again vanished; the hills upon which the sun still + shone bore the same monotonous outlines as those just wiped into space. + Last of all, before the red sun sank like the descending host, it gleamed + upon the sails of a trading vessel close in shore. It was the last object + visible. A damp breath breathed upon it, a soft hand passed over the + slate, the sharp pencilling of the picture faded and became a confused + gray cloud. + </p> + <p> + The wind and waves, too, went down in the fog; the now invisible and + hushed breakers occasionally sent the surf over the sand in a quick + whisper, with grave intervals of silence, but with no continuous murmur as + before. In a curving bight of the shore the creaking of oars in their + rowlocks began to be distinctly heard, but the boat itself, although + apparently only its length from the sands, was invisible. + </p> + <p> + “Steady, now; way enough.” The voice came from the sea, and was low, as if + unconsciously affected by the fog. “Silence!” + </p> + <p> + The sound of a keel grating the sand was followed by the order, “Stern + all!” from the invisible speaker. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we beach her?” asked another vague voice. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. Hail again, and all together.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah hoy—oi—oi—oy!” + </p> + <p> + There were four voices, but the hail appeared weak and ineffectual, like a + cry in a dream, and seemed hardly to reach beyond the surf before it was + suffocated in the creeping cloud. A silence followed, but no response. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use to beach her and go ashore until we find the boat,” said the + first voice, gravely; “and we'll do that if the current has brought her + here. Are you sure you've got the right bearings?” + </p> + <p> + “As near as a man could off a shore with not a blasted pint to take his + bearings by.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence again, broken only by the occasional dip of oars, + keeping the invisible boat-head to the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Take my word for it, lads, it's the last we'll see of that boat again, or + of Jack Cranch, or the captain's baby.” + </p> + <p> + “It DOES look mighty queer that the painter should slip. Jack Cranch ain't + the man to tie a granny knot.” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” said the invisible leader. “Listen.” + </p> + <p> + A hail, so faint and uncertain that it might have been the long-deferred, + far-off echo of their own, came from the sea, abreast of them. + </p> + <p> + “It's the captain. He hasn't found anything, or he couldn't be so far + north. Hark!” + </p> + <p> + The hail was repeated again faintly, dreamily. To the seamen's trained + ears it seemed to have an intelligent significance, for the first voice + gravely responded, “Aye, aye!” and then said softly, “Oars.” + </p> + <p> + The word was followed by a splash. The oars clicked sharply and + simultaneously in the rowlocks, then more faintly, then still fainter, and + then passed out into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + The silence and shadow both fell together; for hours sea and shore were + impenetrable. Yet at times the air was softly moved and troubled, the + surrounding gloom faintly lightened as with a misty dawn, and then was + dark again; or drowsy, far-off cries and confused noises seemed to grow + out of the silence, and, when they had attracted the weary ear, sank away + as in a mocking dream, and showed themselves unreal. Nebulous gatherings + in the fog seemed to indicate stationary objects that, even as one gazed, + moved away; the recurring lap and ripple on the shingle sometimes took + upon itself the semblance of faint articulate laughter or spoken words. + But towards morning a certain monotonous grating on the sand, that had for + many minutes alternately cheated and piqued the ear, asserted itself more + strongly, and a moving, vacillating shadow in the gloom became an opaque + object on the shore. + </p> + <p> + With the first rays of the morning light the fog lifted. As the undraped + hills one by one bared their cold bosoms to the sun, the long line of + coast struggled back to life again. Everything was unchanged, except that + a stranded boat lay upon the sands, and in its stern sheets a sleeping + child. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + The 10th of August, 1852, brought little change to the dull monotony of + wind, fog, and treeless coast line. Only the sea was occasionally flecked + with racing sails that outstripped the old, slow-creeping trader, or was + at times streaked and blurred with the trailing smoke of a steamer. There + were a few strange footprints on those virgin sands, and a fresh track, + that led from the beach over the rounded hills, dropped into the bosky + recesses of a hidden valley beyond the coast range. + </p> + <p> + It was here that the refectory windows of the Mission of San Carmel had + for years looked upon the reverse of that monotonous picture presented to + the sea. It was here that the trade winds, shorn of their fury and + strength in the heated, oven-like air that rose from the valley, lost + their weary way in the tangled recesses of the wooded slopes, and breathed + their last at the foot of the stone cross before the Mission. It was on + the crest of those slopes that the fog halted and walled in the + sun-illumined plain below; it was in this plain that limitless fields of + grain clothed the fat adobe soil; here the Mission garden smiled over its + hedges of fruitful vines, and through the leaves of fig and gnarled pear + trees: and it was here that Father Pedro had lived for fifty years, found + the prospect good, and had smiled also. + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro's smile was rare. He was not a Las Casas, nor a Junipero + Serra, but he had the deep seriousness of all disciples laden with the + responsible wording of a gospel not their own. And his smile had an + ecclesiastical as well as a human significance, the pleasantest object in + his prospect being the fair and curly head of his boy acolyte and + chorister, Francisco, which appeared among the vines, and his sweetest + pastoral music, the high soprano humming of a chant with which the boy + accompanied his gardening. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the acolyte's chant changed to a cry of terror. Running rapidly + to Father Pedro's side, he grasped his sotana, and even tried to hide his + curls among its folds. + </p> + <p> + “'St! 'st!” said the Padre, disengaging himself with some impatience. + “What new alarm is this? Is it Luzbel hiding among our Catalan vines, or + one of those heathen Americanos from Monterey? Speak!” + </p> + <p> + “Neither, holy father,” said the boy, the color struggling back into his + pale cheeks, and an apologetic, bashful smile lighting his clear eyes. + “Neither; but oh! such a gross, lethargic toad! And it almost leaped upon + me.” + </p> + <p> + “A toad leaped upon thee!” repeated the good father with evident vexation. + “What next? I tell thee, child, those foolish fears are most unmeet for + thee, and must be overcome, if necessary, with prayer and penance. + Frightened by a toad! Blood of the Martyrs! 'Tis like any foolish girl!” + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro stopped and coughed. + </p> + <p> + “I am saying that no Christian child should shrink from any of God's + harmless creatures. And only last week thou wast disdainful of poor + Murieta's pig, forgetting that San Antonio himself did elect one his + faithful companion, even in glory.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it was so fat, and so uncleanly, holy father,” replied the young + acolyte, “and it smelt so.” + </p> + <p> + “Smelt so?” echoed the father doubtfully. “Have a care, child, that this + is not luxuriousness of the senses. I have noticed of late you gather + overmuch of roses and syringa, excellent in their way and in moderation, + but still not to be compared with the flower of Holy Church, the lily.” + </p> + <p> + “But lilies don't look well on the refectory table, and against the adobe + wall,” returned the acolyte, with a pout of a spoilt child; “and surely + the flowers cannot help being sweet, any more than myrrh or incense. And I + am not frightened of the heathen Americanos either NOW. There was a small + one in the garden yesterday, a boy like me, and he spoke kindly and with a + pleasant face.” + </p> + <p> + “What said he to thee, child?” asked Father Pedro, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, the matter of his speech I could not understand,” laughed the boy, + “but the manner was as gentle as thine, holy father.” + </p> + <p> + “'St, child,” said the Padre impatiently. “Thy likings are as unreasonable + as thy fears. Besides, have I not told thee it ill becomes a child of + Christ to chatter with those sons of Belial? But canst thou not repeat the + words—the WORDS he said?” he continued suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a harsh tongue the Americanos speak in their throat,” replied the + boy. “But he said 'Devilishnisse' and 'pretty-as-a-girl,' and looked at + me.” + </p> + <p> + The good father made the boy repeat the words gravely, and as gravely + repeated them after him with infinite simplicity. “They are but heretical + words,” he replied in answer to the boy's inquiring look; “it is well you + understand not English. Enough. Run away, child, and be ready for the + Angelus. I will commune with myself awhile under the pear trees.” + </p> + <p> + Glad to escape so easily, the young acolyte disappeared down the alley of + fig trees, not without a furtive look at the patches of chickweed around + their roots, the possible ambuscade of creeping or saltant vermin. The + good priest heaved a sigh and glanced round the darkening prospect. The + sun had already disappeared over the mountain wall that lay between him + and the sea, rimmed with a faint white line of outlying fog. A cool zephyr + fanned his cheek; it was the dying breath of the vientos generales beyond + the wall. As Father Pedro's eyes were raised to this barrier, which seemed + to shut out the boisterous world beyond, he fancied he noticed for the + first time a slight breach in the parapet, over which an advanced banner + of the fog was fluttering. Was it an omen? His speculations were cut short + by a voice at his very side. + </p> + <p> + He turned quickly and beheld one of those “heathens” against whom he had + just warned his young acolyte; one of that straggling band of adventurers + whom the recent gold discoveries had scattered along the coast. Luckily + the fertile alluvium of these valleys, lying parallel with the sea, + offered no “indications” to attract the gold seekers. Nevertheless to + Father Pedro even the infrequent contact with the Americanos was + objectionable; they were at once inquisitive and careless; they asked + questions with the sharp perspicacity of controversy; they received his + grave replies with the frank indifference of utter worldliness. Powerful + enough to have been tyrannical oppressors, they were singularly tolerant + and gentle, contenting themselves with a playful, good-natured + irreverence, which tormented the good father more than opposition. They + were felt to be dangerous and subversive. + </p> + <p> + The Americano, however, who stood before him did not offensively suggest + these national qualities. A man of middle height, strongly built, bronzed + and slightly gray from the vicissitudes of years and exposure, he had an + air of practical seriousness that commended itself to Father Pedro. To his + religious mind it suggested self-consciousness; expressed in the dialect + of the stranger it only meant “business.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm rather glad I found you out here alone,” began the latter; “it saves + time. I haven't got to take my turn with the rest, in there”—he + indicated the church with his thumb—“and you haven't got to make an + appointment. You have got a clear forty minutes before the Angelus rings,” + he added, consulting a large silver chronometer, “and I reckon I kin git + through my part of the job inside of twenty, leaving you ten minutes for + remarks. I want to confess.” + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro drew back with a gesture of dignity. The stranger, however, + laid his hand upon the Padre's sleeve with the air of a man anticipating + objection, but never refusal, and went on. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I know. You want me to come at some other time, and in THERE. + You want it in the reg'lar style. That's your way and your time. My answer + is: it ain't MY way and MY time. The main idea of confession, I take it, + is gettin' at the facts. I'm ready to give 'em if you'll take 'em out + here, now. If you're willing to drop the Church and confessional, and all + that sort o' thing, I, on my side, am willing to give up the absolution, + and all that sort o' thing. You might,” he added, with an unconscious + touch of pathos in the suggestion, “heave in a word or two of advice after + I get through; for instance, what YOU'D do in the circumstances, you see! + That's all. But that's as you please. It ain't part of the business.” + </p> + <p> + Irreverent as this speech appeared, there was really no trace of such + intention in his manner, and his evident profound conviction that his + suggestion was practical, and not at all inconsistent with ecclesiastical + dignity, would alone have been enough to touch the Padre, had not the + stranger's dominant personality already overridden him. He hesitated. The + stranger seized the opportunity to take his arm, and lead him with the + half familiarity of powerful protection to a bench beneath the refectory + window. Taking out his watch again, he put it in the passive hands of the + astonished priest, saying, “Time me,” cleared his throat, and began:— + </p> + <p> + “Fourteen years ago there was a ship cruisin' in the Pacific, jest off + this range, that was ez nigh on to a Hell afloat as anything rigged kin + be. If a chap managed to dodge the cap'en's belayin-pin for a time, he was + bound to be fetched up in the ribs at last by the mate's boots. There was + a chap knocked down the fore hatch with a broken leg in the Gulf, and + another jumped overboard off Cape Corrientes, crazy as a loon, along a + clip of the head from the cap'en's trumpet. Them's facts. The ship was a + brigantine, trading along the Mexican coast. The cap'en had his wife + aboard, a little timid Mexican woman he'd picked up at Mazatlan. I reckon + she didn't get on with him any better than the men, for she ups and dies + one day, leavin' her baby, a year-old gal. One of the crew was fond o' + that baby. He used to get the black nurse to put it in the dingy, and he'd + tow it astern, rocking it with the painter like a cradle. He did it—hatin' + the cap'en all the same. One day the black nurse got out of the dingy for + a moment, when the baby was asleep, leavin' him alone with it. An idea + took hold on him, jest from cussedness, you'd say, but it was partly from + revenge on the cap'en and partly to get away from the ship. The ship was + well inshore, and the current settin' towards it. He slipped the painter—that + man—and set himself adrift with the baby. It was a crazy act, you'd + reckon, for there wasn't any oars in the boat; but he had a crazy man's + luck, and he contrived, by sculling the boat with one of the seats he tore + out, to keep her out of the breakers, till he could find a bight in the + shore to run her in. The alarm was given from the ship, but the fog shut + down upon him; he could hear the other boats in pursuit. They seemed to + close in on him, and by the sound he judged the cap'en was just abreast of + him in the gig, bearing down upon him in the fog. He slipped out of the + dingy into the water without a splash, and struck out for the breakers. He + got ashore after havin' been knocked down and dragged in four times by the + undertow. He had only one idea then, thankfulness that he had not taken + the baby with him in the surf. You kin put that down for him: it's a fact. + He got off into the hills, and made his way up to Monterey.” + </p> + <p> + “And the child?” asked the Padre, with a sudden and strange asperity that + boded no good to the penitent; “the child thus ruthlessly abandoned—what + became of it?” + </p> + <p> + “That's just it, the child,” assented the stranger, gravely. “Well, if + that man was on his death-bed instead of being here talking to you, he'd + swear that he thought the cap'en was sure to come up to it the next minit. + That's a fact. But it wasn't until one day that he—that's me—ran + across one of that crew in Frisco. 'Hallo, Cranch,' sez he to me, 'so you + got away, didn't you? And how's the cap'en's baby? Grown a young gal by + this time, ain't she?' 'What are you talkin about,' ez I; 'how should I + know?' He draws away from me, and sez, 'D—- it,' sez he, 'you don't + mean that you' . . . I grabs him by the throat and makes him tell me all. + And then it appears that the boat and the baby were never found again, and + every man of that crew, cap'en and all, believed I had stolen it.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Father Pedro was staring at the prospect with an uncompromising + rigidity of head and shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “It's a bad lookout for me, ain't it?” the stranger continued, in serious + reflection. + </p> + <p> + “How do I know,” said the priest harshly, without turning his head, “that + you did not make away with this child?” + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “That you did not complete your revenge by—by—killing it, as + your comrade suspected you? Ah! Holy Trinity,” continued Father Pedro, + throwing out his hands with an impatient gesture, as if to take the place + of unutterable thought. + </p> + <p> + “How do YOU know?” echoed the stranger coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger linked his fingers together and threw them over his knee, + drew it up to his chest caressingly, and said quietly, “Because you DO + know.” + </p> + <p> + The Padre rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “What mean you?” he said, sternly fixing his eyes upon the speaker. Their + eyes met. The stranger's were gray and persistent, with hanging corner + lids that might have concealed even more purpose than they showed. The + Padre's were hollow, open, and the whites slightly brown, as if with + tobacco stains. Yet they were the first to turn away. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” returned the stranger, with the same practical gravity, “that + you know it wouldn't pay me to come here, if I'd killed the baby, unless I + wanted you to fix things right with me up there,” pointing skywards, “and + get absolution; and I've told you THAT wasn't in my line.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you seek me, then?” demanded the Padre, suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “Because I reckon I thought a man might be allowed to confess something + short of a murder. If you're going to draw the line below that—” + </p> + <p> + “This is but sacrilegious levity,” interrupted Father Pedro, turning as if + to go. But the stranger did not make any movement to detain him. + </p> + <p> + “Have you implored forgiveness of the father—the man you wronged—before + you came here?” asked the priest, lingering. + </p> + <p> + “Not much. It wouldn't pay if he was living, and he died four years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure of that?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “There are other relations, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “None.” + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro was silent. When he spoke again, it was with a changed voice. + “What is your purpose, then?” he asked, with the first indication of + priestly sympathy in his manner. “You cannot ask forgiveness of the + earthly father you have injured, you refuse the intercession of holy + Church with the Heavenly Father you have disobeyed. Speak, wretched man! + What is it you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to find the child.” + </p> + <p> + “But if it were possible, if she were still living, are you fit to seek + her, to even make yourself known to her, to appear before her?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I made it profitable to her, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” echoed the priest, scornfully. “So be it. But why come here?” + </p> + <p> + “To ask your advice. To know how to begin my search. You know this + country. You were here when that boat drifted ashore beyond that + mountain.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed. I have much to do with it. It is an affair of the alcalde—the + authorities—of your—your police.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” + </p> + <p> + The Padre again met the stranger's eyes. He stopped, with the snuff box he + had somewhat ostentatiously drawn from his pocket still open in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Why is it not, Senor?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “If she lives, she is a young lady by this time, and might not want the + details of her life known to any one.” + </p> + <p> + “And how will you recognize your baby in this young lady?” asked Father + Pedro, with a rapid gesture, indicating the comparative heights of a baby + and an adult. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I'll know her, and her clothes too; and whoever found her + wouldn't be fool enough to destroy them.” + </p> + <p> + “After fourteen years! Good! you have faith, Senor—” + </p> + <p> + “Cranch,” supplied the stranger, consulting his watch. “But time's up. + Business is business. Good-by; don't let me keep you.” + </p> + <p> + He extended his hand. + </p> + <p> + The Padre met it with a dry, unsympathetic palm, as sere and yellow as the + hills. When their hands separated, the father still hesitated, looking at + Cranch. If he expected further speech or entreaty from him he was + mistaken, for the American, without turning his head, walked in the same + serious, practical fashion down the avenue of fig trees, and disappeared + beyond the hedge of vines. The outlines of the mountain beyond were + already lost in the fog. Father Pedro turned into the refectory. + </p> + <p> + “Antonio.” + </p> + <p> + A strong flavor of leather, onions, and stable preceded the entrance of a + short, stout vaquero from the little patio. + </p> + <p> + “Saddle Pinto and thine own mule to accompany Francisco, who will take + letters from me to the Father Superior at San Jose to-morrow at daybreak.” + </p> + <p> + “At daybreak, reverend father?” + </p> + <p> + “At daybreak. Hark ye, go by the mountain trails and avoid the highway. + Stop at no posada nor fonda, but if the child is weary, rest then awhile + at Don Juan Briones' or at the rancho of the Blessed Fisherman. Have no + converse with stragglers, least of all those gentile Americanos. So . . .” + </p> + <p> + The first strokes of the Angelus came from the nearer tower. With a + gesture Father Pedro waved Antonio aside, and opened the door of the + sacristy. + </p> + <p> + “Ad Majorem Dei Gloria.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + The hacienda of Don Juan Briones, nestling in a wooded cleft of the + foot-hills, was hidden, as Father Pedro had wisely reflected, from the + straying feet of travelers along the dusty highway to San Jose. As + Francisco, emerging from the canada, put spurs to his mule at the sight of + the whitewashed walls, Antonio grunted. + </p> + <p> + “Oh aye, little priest! thou wast tired enough a moment ago, and though we + are not three leagues from the Blessed Fisherman, thou couldst scarce sit + thy saddle longer. Mother of God! and all to see that little mongrel, + Juanita.” + </p> + <p> + “But, good Antonio, Juanita was my play-fellow, and I may not soon again + chance this way. And Juanita is not a mongrel, no more than I am.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a mestiza, and thou art a child of the Church, though this + following of gypsy wenches does not show it.” + </p> + <p> + “But Father Pedro does not object,” urged the boy. + </p> + <p> + “The reverend father has forgotten he was ever young,” replied Antonio, + sententiously, “or he wouldn't set fire and tow together.” + </p> + <p> + “What sayest thou, good Antonio?” asked Francisco quickly, opening his + blue eyes in frank curiosity; “who is fire, and who is tow?” + </p> + <p> + The worthy muleteer, utterly abashed and confounded by this display of the + acolyte's direct simplicity, contented himself by shrugging his shoulders, + and a vague “Quien sabe?” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said the boy, gayly, “confess it is only the aguardiente of the + Blessed Fisherman thou missest. Never fear, Juanita will find thee some. + And see! here she comes.” + </p> + <p> + There was a flash of white flounces along the dark brown corridor, the + twinkle of satin slippers, the flying out of long black braids, and with a + cry of joy a young girl threw herself upon Francisco as he entered the + patio, and nearly dragged him from his mule. + </p> + <p> + “Have a care, little sister,” laughed the acolyte, looking at Antonio, “or + there will be a conflagration. Am I the fire?” he continued, submitting to + the two sounding kisses the young girl placed upon either cheek, but still + keeping his mischievous glance upon the muleteer. + </p> + <p> + “Quien sabe?” repeated Antonio, gruffly, as the young girl blushed under + his significant eyes. “It is no affair of mine,” he added to himself, as + he led Pinto away. “Perhaps Father Pedro is right, and this young twig of + the Church is as dry and sapless as himself. Let the mestiza burn if she + likes.” + </p> + <p> + “Quick, Pancho,” said the young girl, eagerly leading him along the + corridor. “This way. I must talk with thee before thou seest Don Juan; + that is why I ran to intercept thee, and not as that fool Antonio would + signify, to shame thee. Wast thou ashamed, my Pancho?” + </p> + <p> + The boy threw his arm familiarly round the supple, stayless little waist, + accented only by the belt of the light flounced saya, and said, “But why + this haste and feverishness, 'Nita? And now I look at thee, thou hast been + crying.” + </p> + <p> + They had emerged from a door in the corridor into the bright sunlight of a + walled garden. The girl dropped her eyes, cast a quick glance around her, + and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Not here, to the arroyo,” and half leading, half dragging him, made her + way through a copse of manzanita and alder until they heard the faint + tinkling of water. “Dost thou remember,” said the girl, “it was here,” + pointing to an embayed pool in the dark current, “that I baptized thee, + when Father Pedro first brought thee here, when we both played at being + monks? They were dear old days, for Father Pedro would trust no one with + thee but me, and always kept us near him.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye and he said I would be profaned by the touch of any other, and so + himself always washed and dressed me, and made my bed near his.” + </p> + <p> + “And took thee away again, and I saw thee not till thou camest with + Antonio, over a year ago, to the cattle branding. And now, my Pancho, I + may never see thee again.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed + aloud. + </p> + <p> + The little acolyte tried to comfort her, but with such abstraction of + manner and inadequacy of warmth that she hastily removed his caressing + hand. + </p> + <p> + “But why? What has happened?” he asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + The girl's manner had changed. Her eyes flashed, and she put her brown + fist on her waist and began to rock from side to side. + </p> + <p> + “But I'll not go,” she said viciously. + </p> + <p> + “Go where?” asked the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, where?” she echoed, impatiently. “Hear me, Francisco; thou knowest I + am, like thee, an orphan; but I have not, like thee, a parent in the Holy + Church. For, alas,” she added, bitterly, “I am not a boy, and have not a + lovely voice borrowed from the angels. I was, like thee, a foundling, kept + by the charity of the reverend fathers, until Don Juan, a childless + widower, adopted me. I was happy, not knowing and caring who were the + parents who had abandoned me, happy only in the love of him who became my + adopted father. And now—” She paused. + </p> + <p> + “And now?” echoed Francisco, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “And now they say it is discovered who are my parents.” + </p> + <p> + “And they live?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother of God! no,” said the girl, with scarcely filial piety. “There is + some one, a thing, a mere Don Fulano, who knows it all, it seems, who is + to be my guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “But how? tell me all, dear Juanita,” said the boy with a feverish + interest, that contrasted so strongly with his previous abstraction that + Juanita bit her lips with vexation. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! How? Santa Barbara! an extravaganza for children. A necklace of lies. + I am lost from a ship of which my father—Heaven rest him—is + General, and I am picked up among the weeds on the sea-shore, like Moses + in the bulrushes. A pretty story, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how beautiful!” exclaimed Francisco, enthusiastically. “Ah, Juanita, + would it had been me.” + </p> + <p> + “THEE!” said the girl bitterly,—“thee! No!—it was a girl + wanted. Enough, it was me.” + </p> + <p> + “And when does the guardian come?” persisted the boy, with sparkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He is here even now, with that pompous fool the American alcalde from + Monterey, a wretch who knows nothing of the country or the people, but who + helped the other American to claim me. I tell thee, Francisco, like as not + it is all a folly, some senseless blunder of those Americanos that imposes + upon Don Juan's simplicity and love for them.” + </p> + <p> + “How looks he, this Americano who seeks thee?” asked Francisco. + </p> + <p> + “What care I how he looks,” said Juanita, “or what he is? He may have the + four S's, for all I care. Yet,” she added with a slight touch of coquetry, + “he is not bad to look upon, now I recall him.” + </p> + <p> + “Had he a long moustache and a sad, sweet smile, and a voice so gentle and + yet so strong that you felt he ordered you to do things with out saying + it? And did his eye read your thoughts?—that very thought that you + must obey him?” + </p> + <p> + “Saints preserve thee, Pancho! Of whom dost thou speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Juanita. It was a year ago, the eve of Natividad, he was in the + church when I sang. Look where I would, I always met his eye. When the + canticle was sung and I was slipping into the sacristy, he was beside me. + He spoke kindly, but I understood him not. He put into my hand gold for an + aguinaldo. I pretended I understood not that also, and put it into the box + for the poor. He smiled and went away. Often have I seen him since, and + last night, when I left the Mission, he was there again with Father + Pedro.” + </p> + <p> + “And Father Pedro, what said he of him?” asked Juanita. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” The boy hesitated. “Perhaps—because I said nothing of the + stranger.” + </p> + <p> + Juanita laughed. “So thou canst keep a secret from the good father when + thou carest. But why dost thou think this stranger is my new guardian?” + </p> + <p> + “Dost thou not see, little sister? he was even then seeking thee,” said + the boy with joyous excitement. “Doubtless he knew we were friends and + playmates—may be the good father has told him thy secret. For it is + no idle tale of the alcalde, believe me. I see it all! It is true!” + </p> + <p> + “Then thou wilt let him take me away,” exclaimed the girl bitterly, + withdrawing the little hand he had clasped in his excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, Juanita, what avails it now? I am sent to San Jose, charged with a + letter to the Father Superior, who will give me further orders. What they + are, or how long I must stay, I know not. But I know this: the good Father + Pedro's eyes were troubled when he gave me his blessing, and he held me + long in his embrace. Pray Heaven I have committed no fault. Still it may + be that the reputation of my gift hath reached the Father Superior, and he + would advance me.” And Francisco's eyes lit up with youthful pride at the + thought. + </p> + <p> + Not so Juanita. Her black eyes snapped suddenly with suspicion, she drew + in her breath, and closed her little mouth firmly. Then she began a + crescendo. + </p> + <p> + Mother of God! was that all? Was he a child, to be sent away for such time + or for such purpose as best pleased the fathers? Was he to know no more + than that? With such gifts as God had given him, was he not at least to + have some word in disposing of them? Ah! SHE would not stand it. + </p> + <p> + The boy gazed admiringly at the piquant energy of the little figure before + him, and envied her courage. “It is the mestizo blood,” he murmured to + himself. Then aloud, “Thou shouldst have been a man, 'Nita.” + </p> + <p> + “And thou a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Or a priest. Eh, what is that?” + </p> + <p> + They had both risen, Juanita defiantly, her black braids flying as she + wheeled and suddenly faced the thicket, Francisco clinging to her with + trembling hands and whitened lips. A stone, loosened from the hillside, + had rolled to their feet; there was a crackling in the alders on the slope + above them. + </p> + <p> + “Is it a bear, or a brigand?” whispered Francisco, hurriedly, sounding the + uttermost depths of his terror in the two words. + </p> + <p> + “It is an eavesdropper,” said Juanita, impetuously; “and who and why, I + intend to know,” and she started towards the thicket. + </p> + <p> + “Do not leave me, good Juanita,” said the young acolyte, grasping the + girl's skirt. + </p> + <p> + “Nay; run to the hacienda quickly, and leave me to search the thicket. + Run!” + </p> + <p> + The boy did not wait for a second injunction, but scuttled away, his long + coat catching in the brambles, while Juanita darted like a kitten into the + bushes. Her search was fruitless, however, and she was returning + impatiently when her quick eye fell upon a letter lying amidst the dried + grass where she and Francisco had been seated the moment before. It had + evidently fallen from his breast when he had risen suddenly, and been + overlooked in his alarm. It was Father Pedro's letter to the Father + Superior of San Jose. + </p> + <p> + In an instant she had pounced upon it as viciously as if it had been the + interloper she was seeking. She knew that she held in her fingers the + secret of Francisco's sudden banishment. She felt instinctively that this + yellowish envelope, with its red string and its blotch of red seal, was + his sentence and her own. The little mestiza had not been brought up to + respect the integrity of either locks or seals, both being unknown in the + patriarchal life of the hacienda. Yet with a certain feminine instinct she + looked furtively around her, and even managed to dislodge the clumsy wax + without marring the pretty effigy of the crossed keys impressed upon it. + Then she opened the letter and read. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she stopped and put back her hair from her brown temples. Then a + succession of burning blushes followed each other in waves from her neck + up, and died in drops of moisture in her eyes. This continued until she + was fairly crying, dropping the letter from her hands and rocking to and + fro. In the midst of this she quickly stopped again; the clouds broke, a + sunshine of laughter started from her eyes, she laughed shyly, she laughed + loudly, she laughed hysterically. Then she stopped again as suddenly, + knitted her brows, swooped down once more upon the letter, and turned to + fly. But at the same moment the letter was quietly but firmly taken from + her hand, and Mr. Jack Cranch stood beside her. + </p> + <p> + Juanita was crimson, but unconquered. She mechanically held out her hand + for the letter; the American took her little fingers, kissed them, and + said:— + </p> + <p> + “How are you again?” + </p> + <p> + “The letter,” replied Juanita, with a strong disposition to stamp her + foot. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Cranch, with business directness, “you've read enough to know + it isn't for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor for you either,” responded Juanita. + </p> + <p> + “True. It is for the Reverend Father Superior of San Jose Mission. I'll + give it to him.” + </p> + <p> + Juanita was becoming alarmed, first at this prospect, second at the power + the stranger seemed to be gaining over her. She recalled Francisco's + description of him with something like superstitious awe. + </p> + <p> + “But it concerns Francisco. It contains a secret he should know.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you can tell him it. Perhaps it would come easier from you.” + </p> + <p> + Juanita blushed again. “Why?” she asked, half dreading his reply. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said the American, quietly, “you are old playmates; you are + attached to each other.” + </p> + <p> + Juanita bit her lips. “Why don't you read it yourself?” she asked bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “Because I don't read other people's letters, and if it concerns me you'll + tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “What if I don't?” + </p> + <p> + “Then the Father Superior will.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you know Francisco's secret already,” said the girl, boldly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Mother of God! Senor Crancho, what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not want to separate two such good friends as you and Francisco.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you'd like to claim us both,” said the girl, with a sneer that + was not devoid of coquetry. + </p> + <p> + “I should be delighted.” + </p> + <p> + “Then here is your occasion, Senor, for here comes my adopted father, Don + Juan, and your friend, Senor Br—r—own, the American alcalde.” + </p> + <p> + Two men appeared in the garden path below them. The stiff, glazed, + broad-brimmed black hat, surmounting a dark face of Quixotic gravity and + romantic rectitude, indicated Don Juan Briones. His companion, lazy, + specious, and red-faced, was Senor Brown, the American alcalde. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon we kin about call the thing fixed,” said Senor Brown, with + a large wave of the hand, suggesting a sweeping away of all trivial + details. “Ez I was saying to the Don yer, when two high-toned gents like + you and him come together in a delicate matter of this kind, it ain't no + hoss trade nor sharp practice. The Don is that lofty in principle that + he's willin' to sacrifice his affections for the good of the gal; and you, + on your hand, kalkilate to see all he's done for her, and go your whole + pile better. You'll make the legal formalities good. I reckon that old + Injin woman who can swear to the finding of the baby on the shore will set + things all right yet. For the matter o' that, if you want anything in the + way of a certificate, I'm on hand always.” + </p> + <p> + “Juanita and myself are at your disposition, caballeros,” said Don Juan, + with a grave exaltation. “Never let it be said that the Mexican nation was + outdone by the great Americanos in deeds of courtesy and affection. Let it + rather stand that Juanita was a sacred trust put into my hands years ago + by the goddess of American liberty, and nurtured in the Mexican eagle's + nest. Is it not so, my soul?” he added, more humanly, to the girl, when he + had quite recovered from the intoxication of his own speech. “We love + thee, little one, but we keep our honor.” + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing mean about the old man,” said Brown, admiringly, with a + slight dropping of his left eyelid; “his head is level, and he goes with + his party.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou takest my daughter, Senor Cranch,” continued the old man, carried + away by his emotion; “but the American nation gives me a son.” + </p> + <p> + “You know not what you say, father,” said the young girl, angrily, + exasperated by a slight twinkle in the American's eye. + </p> + <p> + “Not so,” said Cranch. “Perhaps one of the American nation may take him at + his word.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, caballeros, you will, for the moment at least, possess yourselves + of the house and its poor hospitality,” said Don Juan, with time-honored + courtesy, producing the rustic key of the gate of the patio. “It is at + your disposition, caballeros,” he repeated, leading the way as his guests + passed into the corridor. + </p> + <p> + Two hours passed. The hills were darkening on their eastern slopes; the + shadows of the few poplars that sparsedly dotted the dusty highway were + falling in long black lines that looked like ditches on the dead level of + the tawny fields; the shadows of slowly moving cattle were mingling with + their own silhouettes, and becoming more and more grotesque. A keen wind + rising in the hills was already creeping from the canada as from the mouth + of a funnel, and sweeping the plains. Antonio had forgathered with the + servants, had pinched the ears of the maids, had partaken of aguardiente, + had saddled the mules,—Antonio was becoming impatient. + </p> + <p> + And then a singular commotion disturbed the peaceful monotony of the + patriarchal household of Don Juan Briones. The stagnant courtyard was + suddenly alive with peons and servants, running hither and thither. The + alleys and gardens were filled with retainers. A confusion of questions, + orders, and outcrys rent the air, the plains shook with the galloping of a + dozen horsemen. For the acolyte Francisco, of the Mission San Carmel, had + disappeared and vanished, and from that day the hacienda of Don Juan + Briones knew him no more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + When Father Pedro saw the yellow mules vanish under the low branches of + the oaks beside the little graveyard, caught the last glitter of the + morning sun on Pinto's shining headstall, and heard the last tinkle of + Antonio's spurs, something very like a mundane sigh escaped him. To the + simple wonder of the majority of early worshipers—the half-breed + converts who rigorously attended the spiritual ministrations of the + Mission, and ate the temporal provisions of the reverend fathers—he + deputed the functions of the first mass to a coadjutor, and, breviary in + hand, sought the orchard of venerable pear trees. Whether there was any + occult sympathy in his reflections with the contemplation of their + gnarled, twisted, gouty, and knotty limbs, still bearing gracious and + goodly fruit, I know not, but it was his private retreat, and under one of + the most rheumatic and misshapen trunks there was a rude seat. Here Father + Pedro sank, his face towards the mountain wall between him and the + invisible sea. The relentless, dry, practical Californian sunlight falling + on his face grimly pointed out a night of vigil and suffering. The snuffy + yellow of his eyes was injected yet burning, his temples were ridged and + veined like a tobacco leaf; the odor of desiccation which his garments + always exhaled was hot and feverish, as if the fire had suddenly awakened + among the ashes. + </p> + <p> + Of what was Father Pedro thinking? + </p> + <p> + He was thinking of his youth, a youth spent under the shade of those pear + trees, even then venerable as now. He was thinking of his youthful dreams + of heathen conquest, emulating the sacrifices and labors of Junipero + Serra; a dream cut short by the orders of the archbishop, that sent his + companion, Brother Diego, north on a mission to strange lands, and + condemned him to the isolation of San Carmel. He was thinking of that + fierce struggle with envy of a fellow creature's better fortune that, + conquered by prayer and penance, left him patient, submissive, and devoted + to his humble work; how he raised up converts to the faith, even taking + them from the breast of heretic mothers. + </p> + <p> + He recalled how once, with the zeal of propagandism quickening in the + instincts of a childless man, he had dreamed of perpetuating his work + through some sinless creation of his own; of dedicating some virgin soul, + one over whom he could have complete control, restricted by no human + paternal weakness, to the task he had begun. But how? Of all the boys + eagerly offered to the Church by their parents there seemed none + sufficiently pure and free from parental taint. He remembered how one + night, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin herself, as he + firmly then believed, this dream was fulfilled. An Indian woman brought + him a Waugee child—a baby-girl that she had picked up on the + sea-shore. There were no parents to divide the responsibility, the child + had no past to confront, except the memory of the ignorant Indian woman, + who deemed her duty done, and whose interest ceased in giving it to the + Padre. The austere conditions of his monkish life compelled him to the + first step in his adoption of it—the concealment of its sex. This + was easy enough, as he constituted himself from that moment its sole nurse + and attendant, and boldly baptized it among the other children by the name + of Francisco. No others knew its origin, nor cared to know. Father Pedro + had taken a muchacho foundling for adoption; his jealous seclusion of it + and his personal care was doubtless some sacerdotal formula at once high + and necessary. + </p> + <p> + He remembered with darkening eyes and impeded breath how his close + companionship and daily care of this helpless child had revealed to him + the fascinations of that paternity denied to him; how he had deemed it his + duty to struggle against the thrill of baby fingers laid upon his yellow + cheeks, the pleading of inarticulate words, the eloquence of wonder-seeing + and mutely questioning eyes; how he had succumbed again and again, and + then struggled no more, seeing only in them the suggestion of childhood + made incarnate in the Holy Babe. And yet, even as he thought, he drew from + his gown a little shoe, and laid it beside his breviary. It was + Francisco's baby slipper, a duplicate to those worn by the miniature waxen + figure of the Holy Virgin herself in her niche in the transept. + </p> + <p> + Had he felt during these years any qualms of conscience at this + concealment of the child's sex? None. For to him the babe was sexless, as + most befitted one who was to live and die at the foot of the altar. There + was no attempt to deceive God; what mattered else? Nor was he withholding + the child from the ministrations of the sacred sisters; there was no + convent near the Mission, and as each year passed, the difficulty of + restoring her to the position and duties of her sex became greater and + more dangerous. And then the acolyte's destiny was sealed by what again + appeared to Father Pedro as a direct interposition of Providence. The + child developed a voice of such exquisite sweetness and purity that an + angel seemed to have strayed into the little choir, and kneeling + worshipers below, transported, gazed upwards, half expectant of a heavenly + light breaking through the gloom of the raftered ceiling. The fame of the + little singer filled the valley of San Carmel; it was a miracle vouchsafed + the Mission; Don Jose Peralta remembered, ah yes, to have heard in old + Spain of boy choristers with such voices! + </p> + <p> + And was this sacred trust to be withdrawn from him? Was this life which he + had brought out of an unknown world of sin, unstained and pure, + consecrated and dedicated to God, just in the dawn of power and promise + for the glory of the Mother Church, to be taken from his side? And at the + word of a self-convicted man of sin—a man whose tardy repentance was + not yet absolved by the Holy Church. Never! never! Father Pedro dwelt upon + the stranger's rejection of the ministrations of the Church with a + pitiable satisfaction; had he accepted it, he would have had a sacred + claim upon Father Pedro's sympathy and confidence. Yet he rose again, + uneasily and with irregular steps returned to the corridor, passing the + door of the familiar little cell beside his own. The window, the table, + and even the scant toilette utensils were filled with the flowers of + yesterday, some of them withered and dry; the white gown of the little + chorister was hanging emptily against the wall. Father Pedro started and + trembled; it seemed as if the spiritual life of the child had slipped away + with its garments. + </p> + <p> + In that slight chill, which even in the hottest days in California always + invests any shadow cast in that white sunlight, Father Pedro shivered in + the corridor. Passing again into the garden, he followed in fancy the + wayfaring figure of Francisco, saw the child arrive at the rancho of Don + Juan, and with the fateful blindness of all dreamers projected a picture + most unlike the reality. He followed the pilgrims even to San Jose, and + saw the child deliver the missive which gave the secret of her sex and + condition to the Father Superior. That the authority at San Jose might + dissent with the Padre of San Carmel, or decline to carry out his designs, + did not occur to the one-idea'd priest. Like all solitary people, isolated + from passing events, he made no allowances for occurrences outside of his + routine. Yet at this moment a sudden thought whitened his yellow cheek. + What if the Father Superior deemed it necessary to impart the secret to + Francisco? Would the child recoil at the deception, and, perhaps, cease to + love him? It was the first time, in his supreme selfishness, he had taken + the acolyte's feelings into account. He had thought of him only as one + owing implicit obedience to him as a temporal and spiritual guide. + </p> + <p> + “Reverend Father!” + </p> + <p> + He turned impatiently. It was his muleteer, Jose. Father Pedro's sunken + eye brightened. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Jose! Quickly, then; hast thou found Sanchicha?” + </p> + <p> + “Truly, your reverence! And I have brought her with me, just as she is; + though if your reverence make more of her than to fill the six-foot hole + and say a prayer over her, I'll give the mule that brought her here for + food for the bull's horns. She neither hears nor speaks, but whether from + weakness or sheer wantonness, I know not.” + </p> + <p> + “Peace, then! and let thy tongue take example from hers. Bring her with + thee into the sacristy and attend without. Go!” + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro watched the disappearing figure of the muleteer and hurriedly + swept his thin, dry hand, veined and ribbed like a brown November leaf, + over his stony forehead, with a sound that seemed almost a rustle. Then he + suddenly stiffened his fingers over his breviary, dropped his arms + perpendicularly before him, and with a rigid step returned to the corridor + and passed into the sacristy. + </p> + <p> + For a moment in the half-darkness the room seemed to be empty. Tossed + carelessly in the corner appeared some blankets topped by a few straggling + black horse tails, like an unstranded riata. A trembling agitated the mass + as Father Pedro approached. He bent over the heap and distinguished in its + midst the glowing black eyes of Sanchicha, the Indian centenarian of the + Mission San Carmel. Only her eyes lived. Helpless, boneless, and + jelly-like, old age had overtaken her with a mild form of deliquescence. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Sanchicha,” said the father, gravely. “It is important that thou + shouldst refresh thy memory for a moment. Look back fourteen years, + mother; it is but yesterday to thee. Thou dost remember the baby—a + little muchacha thou broughtest me then—fourteen years ago?” + </p> + <p> + The old woman's eyes became intelligent, and turned with a quick look + towards the open door of the church, and thence towards the choir. + </p> + <p> + The Padre made a motion of irritation. “No, no! Thou dost not understand; + thou dost not attend me. Knowest thou of any mark of clothing, trinket, or + amulet found upon the babe?” + </p> + <p> + The light of the old woman's eyes went out. She might have been dead. + Father Pedro waited a moment, and then laid his hand impatiently on her + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Dost thou mean there are none?” + </p> + <p> + A ray of light struggled back into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “None.” + </p> + <p> + “And thou hast kept back or put away no sign nor mark of her parentage? + Tell me, on this crucifix.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes caught the crucifix, and became as empty as the orbits of the + carven Christ upon it. + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro waited patiently. A moment passed; only the sound of the + muleteer's spurs was heard in the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + “It is well,” he said at last, with a sigh of relief. “Pepita shall give + thee some refreshment, and Jose will bring thee back again. I will summon + him.” + </p> + <p> + He passed out of the sacristy door, leaving it open. A ray of sunlight + darted eagerly in, and fell upon the grotesque heap in the corner. + Sanchicha's eyes lived again; more than that, a singular movement came + over her face. The hideous caverns of her toothless mouth opened—she + laughed. The step of Jose was heard in the corridor, and she became again + inert. + </p> + <p> + The third day, which should have brought the return of Antonio, was nearly + spent. Father Pedro was impatient but not alarmed. The good fathers at San + Jose might naturally detain Antonio for the answer, which might require + deliberation. If any mischance had occurred to Francisco, Antonio would + have returned or sent a special messenger. At sunset he was in his + accustomed seat in the orchard, his hands clasped over the breviary in his + listless lap, his eyes fixed upon the mountain between him and that + mysterious sea that had brought so much into his life. He was filled with + a strange desire to see it, a vague curiosity hitherto unknown to his + preoccupied life; he wished to gaze upon that strand, perhaps the very + spot where she had been found; he doubted not his questioning eyes would + discover some forgotten trace of her; under his persistent will and aided + by the Holy Virgin, the sea would give up its secret. He looked at the fog + creeping along the summit, and recalled the latest gossip of San Carmel; + how that since the advent of the Americanos it was gradually encroaching + on the Mission. The hated name vividly recalled to him the features of the + stranger as he had stood before him three nights ago, in this very garden; + so vividly that he sprang to his feet with an exclamation. It was no + fancy, but Senor Cranch himself advancing from under the shadow of a pear + tree. + </p> + <p> + “I reckoned I'd catch you here,” said Mr. Cranch, with the same dry, + practical business fashion, as if he was only resuming an interrupted + conversation, “and I reckon I ain't going to keep you a minit longer than + I did t'other day.” He mutely referred to his watch, which he already held + in his hand, and then put it back in his pocket. “Well! we found her!” + </p> + <p> + “Francisco,” interrupted the priest with a single stride, laying his hand + upon Cranch's arm, and staring into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cranch quietly removed Father Pedro's hand. “I reckon that wasn't the + name as I caught it,” he returned dryly. “Hadn't you better sit down?” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me—pardon me, Senor,” said the priest, hastily sinking back + upon his bench, “I was thinking of other things. You—you—came + upon me suddenly. I thought it was the acolyte. Go on, Senor! I am + interested.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you'd be,” said Cranch, quietly. “That's why I came. And then + you might be of service too.” + </p> + <p> + “True, true,” said the priest, with rapid accents; “and this girl, Senor, + this girl is—” + </p> + <p> + “Juanita, the mestiza, adopted daughter of Don Juan Briones, over on the + Santa Clare Valley,” replied Cranch, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, + and then sitting down upon the bench beside Father Pedro. + </p> + <p> + The priest turned his feverish eyes piercingly upon his companion for a + few seconds, and then doggedly fixed them upon the ground. Cranch drew a + plug of tobacco from his pocket, cut off a portion, placed it in his + cheek, and then quietly began to strap the blade of his jack-knife upon + his boot. Father Pedro saw it from under his eyelids, and even in his + preoccupation despised him. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are certain she is the babe you seek?” said the father, without + looking up. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon as near as you can be certain of anything. Her age tallies; she + was the only foundling girl baby baptized by you, you know,”—he + partly turned round appealingly to the Padre,—“that year. Injin + woman says she picked up a baby. Looks like a pretty clear case, don't + it?” + </p> + <p> + “And the clothes, friend Cranch?” said the priest, with his eyes still on + the ground, and a slight assumption of easy indifference. + </p> + <p> + “They will be forthcoming, like enough, when the time comes,” said Cranch; + “the main thing at first was to find the girl; that was MY job; the + lawyers, I reckon, can fit the proofs and say what's wanted, later on.” + </p> + <p> + “But why lawyers,” continued Padre Pedro, with a slight sneer he could not + repress, “if the child is found and Senor Cranch is satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + “On account of the property. Business is business!” + </p> + <p> + “The property?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cranch pressed the back of his knife-blade on his boot, shut it up + with a click, and putting it in his pocket said calmly,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon the million of dollars that her father left when he died, + which naturally belongs to her, will require some proof that she is his + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + He had placed both his hands in his pockets, and turned his eyes full upon + Father Pedro. The priest arose hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “But you said nothing of this before, Senor Cranch,” said he, with a + gesture of indignation, turning his back quite upon Cranch, and taking a + step towards the refectory. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I? I was looking after the girl, not the property,” returned + Cranch, following the Padre with watchful eyes, but still keeping his + careless, easy attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well! Will it be said so, think you? Eh! Bueno. What will the world + think of your sacred quest, eh?” continued the Padre Pedro, forgetting + himself in his excitement, but still averting his face from his companion. + </p> + <p> + “The world will look after the proofs, and I reckon not bother if the + proofs are all right,” replied Cranch, carelessly; “and the girl won't + think the worse of me for helping her to a fortune. Hallo! you've dropped + something.” He leaped to his feet, picked up the breviary which had fallen + from the Padre's fingers, and returned it to him with a slight touch of + gentleness that was unsuspected in the man. + </p> + <p> + The priest's dry, tremulous hand grasped the volume without + acknowledgment. + </p> + <p> + “But these proofs?” he said hastily; “these proofs, Senor?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, you'll testify to the baptism, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “But if I refuse; if I will have nothing to do with this thing! If I will + not give my word that there is not some mistake,” said the priest, working + himself into a feverish indignation. “That there are not slips of memory, + eh? Of so many children baptized, is it possible for me to know which, eh? + And if this Juanita is not your girl, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll help me to find who is,” said Cranch, coolly. + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro turned furiously on his tormentor. Overcome by his vigil and + anxiety. He was oblivious of everything but the presence of the man who + seemed to usurp the functions of his own conscience. “Who are you, who + speak thus?” he said hoarsely, advancing upon Cranch with outstretched and + anathematizing fingers. “Who are you, Senor Heathen, who dare to dictate + to me, a Father of Holy Church? I tell you, I will have none of this. + Never! I will not. From this moment, you understand—nothing. I will + never . . .” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. The first stroke of the Angelus rang from the little tower. + The first stroke of that bell before whose magic exorcism all human + passions fled, the peaceful bell that had for fifty years lulled the + little fold of San Carmel to prayer and rest, came to his throbbing ear. + His trembling hands groped for the crucifix, carried it to his left + breast; his lips moved in prayer. His eyes were turned to the cold, + passionless sky, where a few faint, far-spaced stars had silently stolen + to their places. The Angelus still rang, his trembling ceased, he remained + motionless and rigid. + </p> + <p> + The American, who had uncovered in deference to the worshiper rather than + the rite, waited patiently. The eyes of Father Pedro returned to the + earth, moist as if with dew caught from above. He looked half absently at + Cranch. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, my son,” he said, in a changed voice. “I am only a worn old + man. I must talk with thee more of this—but not to-night—not + to-night;—to-morrow—to-morrow—to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + He turned slowly and appeared to glide rather than move under the trees, + until the dark shadow of the Mission tower met and encompassed him. Cranch + followed him with anxious eyes. Then he removed the quid of tobacco from + his cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Just as I reckoned,” remarked he, quite audibly. “He's clean gold on the + bed rock after all!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + That night Father Pedro dreamed a strange dream. How much of it was + reality, how long it lasted, or when he awoke from it, he could not tell. + The morbid excitement of the previous day culminated in a febrile + exaltation in which he lived and moved as in a separate existence. + </p> + <p> + This is what he remembered. He thought he had risen at night in a sudden + horror of remorse, and making his way to the darkened church had fallen + upon his knees before the high altar, when all at once the acolyte's voice + broke from the choir, but in accents so dissonant and unnatural that it + seemed a sacrilege, and he trembled. He thought he had confessed the + secret of the child's sex to Cranch, but whether the next morning or a + week later he did not know. He fancied, too, that Cranch had also + confessed some trifling deception to him, but what, or why, he could not + remember; so much greater seemed the enormity of his own transgression. He + thought Cranch had put in his hands the letter he had written to the + Father Superior, saying that his secret was still safe, and that he had + been spared the avowal and the scandal that might have ensued. But through + all, and above all, he was conscious of one fixed idea: to seek the + seashore with Sanchicha, and upon the spot where she had found Francisco, + meet the young girl who had taken his place, and so part from her forever. + He had a dim recollection that this was necessary to some legal + identification of her, as arranged by Cranch, but how or why he did not + understand; enough that it was a part of his penance. + </p> + <p> + It was early morning when the faithful Antonio, accompanied by Sanchicha + and Jose, rode forth with him from the Mission of San Carmel. Except on + the expressionless features of the old woman, there was anxiety and gloom + upon the faces of the little cavalcade. He did not know how heavily his + strange abstraction and hallucinations weighed upon their honest hearts. + As they wound up the ascent of the mountain he noticed that Antonio and + Jose conversed with bated breath and many pious crossings of themselves, + but with eyes always wistfully fixed upon him. He wondered if, as part of + his penance, he ought not to proclaim his sin and abase himself before + them; but he knew that his devoted followers would insist upon sharing his + punishment; and he remembered his promise to Cranch, that for HER sake he + would say nothing. Before they reached the summit he turned once or twice + to look back upon the Mission. How small it looked, lying there in the + peaceful valley, contrasted with the broad sweep of the landscape beyond, + stopped at the further east only by the dim, ghost-like outlines of the + Sierras. But the strong breath of the sea was beginning to be felt; in a + few moments more they were facing it with lowered sombreros and flying + serapes, and the vast, glittering, illimitable Pacific opened out beneath + them. + </p> + <p> + Dazed and blinded, as it seemed to him, by the shining, restless expanse, + Father Pedro rode forward as if still in a dream. Suddenly he halted, and + called Antonio to his side. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, child, didst thou not say that this coast was wild and desolate + of man, beast, and habitation?” + </p> + <p> + “Truly I did, reverend father.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what is that?” pointing to the shore. + </p> + <p> + Almost at their feet nestled a cluster of houses, at the head of an arroyo + reaching up from the beach. They looked down upon the smoke of a + manufactory chimney, upon strange heaps of material and curious engines + scattered along the sands, with here and there moving specks of human + figures. In a little bay a schooner swung at her cables. + </p> + <p> + The vaquero crossed himself in stupefied alarm. “I know not, your + reverence; it is only two years ago, before the rodeo, that I was here for + strayed colts, and I swear by the blessed bones of San Antonio that it was + as I said.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it is like these Americanos,” responded the muleteer. “I have it from + my brother Diego that he went from San Jose to Pescadero two months ago, + across the plains, with never a hut nor fonda to halt at all the way. He + returned in seven days, and in the midst of the plain there were three + houses and a mill, and many people. And why was it? Ah! Mother of God! one + had picked up in the creek where he drank that much of gold;” and the + muleteer tapped one of the silver coins that fringed his jacket sleeves in + place of buttons. + </p> + <p> + “And they are washing the sands for gold there now,” said Antonio, eagerly + pointing to some men gathered round a machine like an enormous cradle. + “Let us hasten on.” + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro's momentary interest had passed. The words of his companions + fell dull and meaningless upon his dreaming ears. He was conscious only + that the child was more a stranger to him as an outcome of this hard, + bustling life, than when he believed her borne to him over the mysterious + sea. It perplexed his dazed, disturbed mind to think that if such an + antagonistic element could exist within a dozen miles of the Mission, and + he not know it, could not such an atmosphere have been around him, even in + his monastic isolation, and he remain blind to it? Had he really lived in + the world without knowing it? Had it been in his blood? Had it impelled + him to—He shuddered and rode on. + </p> + <p> + They were at the last slope of the zigzag descent to the shore, when he + saw the figures of a man and woman moving slowly through a field of wild + oats, not far from the trail. It seemed to his distorted fancy that the + man was Cranch. The woman! His heart stopped beating. Ah! could it be? He + had never seen her in her proper garb: would she look like that? Would she + be as tall? He thought he bade Jose and Antonio go on slowly before with + Sanchicha, and dismounted, walking slowly between the high stalks of + grain, lest he should disturb them. They evidently did not hear his + approach, but were talking earnestly. It seemed to Father Pedro that they + had taken each other's hands, and as he looked Cranch slipped his arm + round her waist. With only a blind instinct of some dreadful sacrilege in + this act, Father Pedro would have rushed forward, when the girl's voice + struck his ear. He stopped, breathless. It was not Francisco, but Juanita, + the little mestiza. + </p> + <p> + “But are you sure you are not pretending to love me now, as you pretended + to think I was the muchacha you had run away with and lost? Are you sure + it is not pity for the deceit you practiced upon me—upon Don Juan—upon + poor Father Pedro?” + </p> + <p> + It seemed as if Cranch had tried to answer with a kiss, for the girl drew + suddenly away from him with a coquettish fling of the black braids, and + whipped her little brown hands behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, look here,” said Cranch, with the same easy, good-natured, + practical directness which the priest remembered, and which would have + passed for philosophy in a more thoughtful man, “put it squarely, then. In + the first place, it was Don Juan and the alcalde who first suggested you + might be the child.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have said you knew it was Francisco all the time,” interrupted + Juanita. + </p> + <p> + “I did; but when I found the priest would not assist me at first, and + admit that the acolyte was a girl, I preferred to let him think I was + deceived in giving a fortune to another, and leave it to his own + conscience to permit it or frustrate it. I was right. I reckon it was + pretty hard on the old man, at his time of life, and wrapped up as he was + in the girl; but at the moment he came up to the scratch like a man.” + </p> + <p> + “And to save him you have deceived me? Thank you, Senor,” said the girl + with a mock curtsey. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I preferred to have you for a wife than a daughter,” said + Cranch, “if that's what you mean. When you know me better, Juanita,” he + continued, gravely, “you'll know that I would never have let you believe I + sought in you the one if I had not hoped to find in you the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Bueno! And when did you have that pretty hope?” + </p> + <p> + “When I first saw you.” + </p> + <p> + “And that was—two weeks ago.” + </p> + <p> + “A year ago, Juanita. When Francisco visited you at the rancho. I followed + and saw you.” + </p> + <p> + Juanita looked at him a moment, and then suddenly darted at him, caught + him by the lapels of his coat and shook him like a terrier. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure that you did not love that Francisco? Speak!” (She shook him + again.) “Swear that you did not follow her!” + </p> + <p> + “But—I did,” said Cranch, laughing and shaking between the clenching + of the little hands. + </p> + <p> + “Judas Iscariot! Swear you do not love her all this while.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Juanita!” + </p> + <p> + “Swear!” + </p> + <p> + Cranch swore. Then to Father Pedro's intense astonishment she drew the + American's face towards her own by the ears and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “But you might have loved her, and married a fortune,” said Juanita, after + a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Where would have been my reparation—my duty?” returned Cranch, with + a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Reparation enough for her to have had you,” said Juanita, with that rapid + disloyalty of one loving woman to another in an emergency. This provoked + another kiss from Cranch, and then Juanita said demurely,— + </p> + <p> + “But we are far from the trail. Let us return, or we shall miss Father + Pedro. Are you sure he will come?” + </p> + <p> + “A week ago he promised to be here to see the proofs to-day.” + </p> + <p> + The voices were growing fainter and fainter; they were returning to the + trail. + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro remained motionless. A week ago! Was it a week ago since—since + what? And what had he been doing here? Listening! He! Father Pedro, + listening like an idle peon to the confidences of two lovers. But they had + talked of him, of his crime, and the man had pitied him. Why did he not + speak? Why did he not call after them? He tried to raise his voice. It + sank in his throat with a horrible choking sensation. The nearest heads of + oats began to nod to him, he felt himself swaying backwards and forwards. + He fell—heavily, down, down, down, from the summit of the mountain + to the floor of the Mission chapel, and there he lay in the dark. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “He moves.” + </p> + <p> + “Blessed Saint Anthony preserve him!” + </p> + <p> + It was Antonio's voice, it was Jose's arm, it was the field of wild oats, + the sky above his head,—all unchanged. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” said the priest feebly. + </p> + <p> + “A giddiness seized your reverence just now, as we were coming to seek + you.” + </p> + <p> + “And you met no one?” + </p> + <p> + “No one, your reverence.” + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro passed his hand across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “But who are these?” he said, pointing to two figures who now appeared + upon the trail. + </p> + <p> + Antonio turned. + </p> + <p> + “It is the Americano, Senor Cranch, and his adopted daughter, the mestiza + Juanita, seeking your reverence, methinks.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Father Pedro. + </p> + <p> + Cranch came forward and greeted the priest cordially. “It was kind of you, + Father Pedro,” he said, meaningly, with a significant glance at Jose and + Antonio, “to come so far to bid me and my adopted daughter farewell. We + depart when the tide serves, but not before you partake of our hospitality + in yonder cottage.” + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro gazed at Cranch and then at Juanita. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he stammered. “But she goes not alone. She will be strange at + first. She takes some friend, perhaps—some companion?” he continued, + tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “A very old and dear one, Father Pedro, who is waiting for us now.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way to a little white cottage, so little and white and recent, + that it seemed a mere fleck of sea foam cast on the sands. Disposing of + Jose and Antonio in the neighboring workshop and outbuildings, he assisted + the venerable Sanchicha to dismount, and, together with Father Pedro and + Juanita, entered a white palisaded enclosure beside the cottage, and + halted before what appeared to be a large, folding trap-door, covering a + slight, sandy mound. It was locked with a padlock; beside it stood the + American alcalde and Don Juan Briones. Father Pedro looked hastily around + for another figure, but it was not there. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” began Cranch, in his practical business way, “I reckon you + all know we've come here to identify a young lady, who”—he hesitated—“was + lately under the care of Father Pedro, with a foundling picked up on this + shore fifteen years ago by an Indian woman. How this foundling came here, + and how I was concerned in it, you all know. I've told everybody here how + I scrambled ashore, leaving that baby in the dingy, supposing it would be + picked up by the boat pursuing me. I've told some of you,” he looked at + Father Pedro, “how I first discovered, from one of the men, three years + ago, that the child was not found by its father. But I have never told any + one, before now, I KNEW it was picked up here. + </p> + <p> + “I never could tell the exact locality where I came ashore, for the fog + was coming on as it is now. But two years ago I came up with a party of + gold hunters to work these sands. One day, digging near this creek, I + struck something embedded deep below the surface. Well, gentlemen, it + wasn't gold, but something worth more to me than gold or silver. Here it + is.” + </p> + <p> + At a sign the alcalde unlocked the doors and threw them open. They + disclosed an irregular trench, in which, filled with sand, lay the + half-excavated stern of a boat. + </p> + <p> + “It was the dingy of the Trinidad, gentlemen; you can still read her name. + I found hidden away, tucked under the stern sheets, mouldy and water-worn, + some clothes that I recognized to be the baby's. I knew then that the + child had been taken away alive for some purpose, and the clothes were + left so that she should carry no trace with her. I recognized the hand of + an Indian. I set to work quietly. I found Sanchicha here, she confessed to + finding a baby, but what she had done with it she would not at first say. + But since then she has declared before the alcalde that she gave it to + Father Pedro, of San Carmel, and that here it stands—Francisco that + was! Francisca that it is!” + </p> + <p> + He stepped aside to make way for a tall girl, who had approached from the + cottage. + </p> + <p> + Father Pedro had neither noticed the concluding words nor the movement of + Cranch. His eyes were fixed upon the imbecile Sanchicha,—Sanchicha, + on whom, to render his rebuke more complete, the Deity seemed to have + worked a miracle, and restored intelligence to eye and lip. He passed his + hand tremblingly across his forehead, and turned away, when his eye fell + upon the last comer. + </p> + <p> + It was she. The moment he had longed for and dreaded had come. She stood + there, animated, handsome, filled with a hurtful consciousness in her new + charms, her fresh finery, and the pitiable trinkets that had supplanted + her scapulary, and which played under her foolish fingers. The past had no + place in her preoccupied mind; her bright eyes were full of eager + anticipation of a substantial future. The incarnation of a frivolous + world, even as she extended one hand to him in half-coquettish + embarrassment she arranged the folds of her dress with the other. At the + touch of her fingers, he felt himself growing old and cold. Even the + penance of parting, which he had looked forward to, was denied him; there + was no longer sympathy enough for sorrow. He thought of the empty + chorister's robe in the little cell, but not now with regret. He only + trembled to think of the flesh that he had once caused to inhabit it. + </p> + <p> + “That's all, gentlemen,” broke in the practical voice of Cranch. “Whether + there are proofs enough to make Francisca the heiress of her father's + wealth, the lawyers must say. I reckon it's enough for me that they give + me the chance of repairing a wrong by taking her father's place. After + all, it was a mere chance.” + </p> + <p> + “It was the will of God,” said Father Pedro, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + They were the last words he addressed them. For when the fog had begun to + creep inshore, hastening their departure, he only answered their farewells + by a silent pressure of the hand, mute lips, and far-off eyes. + </p> + <p> + When the sound of their laboring oars grew fainter, he told Antonio to + lead him and Sanchicha again to the buried boat. There he bade her kneel + beside him. “We will do penance here, thou and I, daughter,” he said + gravely. When the fog had drawn its curtain gently around the strange + pair, and sea and shore were blotted out, he whispered, “Tell me, it was + even so, was it not, daughter, on the night she came?” When the distant + clatter of blocks and rattle of cordage came from the unseen vessel, now + standing out to sea, he whispered again, “So, this is what thou didst + hear, even then.” And so during the night he marked, more or less audibly + to the half-conscious woman at his side, the low whisper of the waves, the + murmur of the far-off breakers, the lightening and thickening of the fog, + the phantoms of moving shapes, and the slow coming of the dawn. And when + the morning sun had rent the veil over land and sea, Antonio and Jose + found him, haggard, but erect, beside the trembling old woman, with a + blessing on his lips, pointing to the horizon where a single sail still + glimmered:— + </p> + <p> + “Va Usted con Dios.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + She was barely twenty-three years old. It is probable that up to that age, + and the beginning of this episode, her life had been uneventful. Born to + the easy mediocrity of such compensating extremes as a small farmhouse and + large lands, a good position and no society, in that vast grazing district + of Kentucky known as the “Blue Grass” region, all the possibilities of a + Western American girl's existence lay before her. A piano in the + bare-walled house, the latest patented mower in the limitless meadows, and + a silk dress sweeping the rough floor of the unpainted “meeting-house” + were already the promise of those possibilities. Beautiful she was, but + the power of that beauty was limited by being equally shared with her few + neighbors. There were small, narrow, arched feet besides her own that trod + the uncarpeted floors of outlying log-cabins with equal grace and dignity; + bright, clearly opened eyes that were equally capable of looking unabashed + upon princes and potentates, as a few later did, and the heiress of the + county judge read her own beauty without envy in the frank glances and + unlowered crest of the blacksmith's daughter. Eventually she had married + the male of her species, a young stranger, who, as schoolmaster in the + nearest town, had utilized to some local extent a scant capital of + education. In obedience to the unwritten law of the West, after the + marriage was celebrated the doors of the ancestral home cheerfully opened, + and bride and bridegroom issued forth, without regret and without + sentiment, to seek the further possibilities of a life beyond these + already too familiar voices. With their departure for California as Mr. + and Mrs. Spencer Tucker, the parental nest in the Blue Grass meadows knew + them no more. + </p> + <p> + They submitted with equal cheerfulness to the privations and excesses of + their new conditions. Within three years the schoolmaster developed into a + lawyer and capitalist, the Blue Grass bride supplying a grace and ease to + these transitions that were all her own. She softened the abruptness of + sudden wealth, mitigated the austerities of newly acquired power, and made + the most glaring incongruity picturesque. Only one thing seemed to limit + their progress in the region of these possibilities. They were childless. + It was as if they had exhausted the future in their own youth, leaving + little or nothing for another generation to do. + </p> + <p> + A southwesterly storm was beating against the dressing-room windows of + their new house in one of the hilly suburbs of San Francisco, and + threatening the unseasonable frivolity of the stucco ornamentation of + cornice and balcony. Mrs. Tucker had been called from the contemplation of + the dreary prospect without by the arrival of a visitor. On entering the + drawing-room she found him engaged in a half-admiring, half-resentful + examination of its new furniture and hangings. Mrs. Tucker at once + recognized Mr. Calhoun Weaver, a former Blue Grass neighbor; with swift + feminine intuition she also felt that his slight antagonism was likely to + be transferred from her furniture to herself. Waiving it with the lazy + amiability of Southern indifference, she welcomed him by the familiarity + of a Christian name. + </p> + <p> + “I reckoned that mebbee you opined old Blue Grass friends wouldn't + naturally hitch on to them fancy doins,” he said, glancing around the + apartment to avoid her clear eyes, as if resolutely setting himself + against the old charm of her manner as he had against the more recent + glory of her surroundings, “but I thought I'd just drop in for the sake of + old times.” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't you, Cal?” said Mrs. Tucker with a frank smile. + </p> + <p> + “Especially as I'm going up to Sacramento to-night with some influential + friends,” he continued, with an ostentation calculated to resist the + assumption of her charms and her furniture. “Senator Dyce of Kentucky, and + his cousin Judge Briggs; perhaps you know 'em, or may be Spencer—I + mean Mr. Tucker—does.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon,” said Mrs. Tucker smiling; “but tell me something about the + boys and girls at Vineville, and about yourself. YOU'RE looking well, and + right smart too.” She paused to give due emphasis to this latter + recognition of a huge gold chain with which her visitor was somewhat + ostentatiously trifling. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know as you cared to hear anything about Blue Grass,” he + returned, a little abashed. “I've been away from there some time myself,” + he added, his uneasy vanity taking fresh alarm at the faint suspicion of + patronage on the part of his hostess. “They're doin' well, though; perhaps + as well as some others.” + </p> + <p> + “And you're not married yet,” continued Mrs. Tucker, oblivious of the + innuendo. “Ah, Cal,” she added archly, “I am afraid you are as fickle as + ever. What poor girl in Vineville have you left pining?” + </p> + <p> + The simple face of the man before her flushed with foolish gratification + at this old-fashioned, ambiguous flattery. “Now look yer, Belle,” he said, + chuckling, “if you're talking of old times and you think I bear malice + agin Spencer, why—” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Tucker interrupted what might have been an inopportune + sentimental retrospect with a finger of arch but languid warning. “That + will do! I'm dying to know all about it, and you must stay to dinner and + tell me. It's right mean you can't see Spencer too; but he isn't back from + Sacramento yet.” + </p> + <p> + Grateful as a tete-a-tete with his old neighbor in her more prosperous + surroundings would have been, if only for the sake of later gossiping + about it, he felt it would be inconsistent with his pride and his + assumption of present business. More than that, he was uneasily conscious + that in Mrs. Tucker's simple and unaffected manner there was a greater + superiority than he had ever noticed during their previous acquaintance. + He would have felt kinder to her had she shown any “airs and graces,” + which he could have commented upon and forgiven. He stammered some vague + excuse of preoccupation, yet lingered in the hope of saying something + which, if not aggressively unpleasant, might at least transfer to her + indolent serenity some of his own irritation. “I reckon,” he said, as he + moved hesitatingly towards the door, “that Spencer has made himself easy + and secure in them business risks he's taking. That 'ere Alameda ditch + affair they're talking so much about is a mighty big thing, rather TOO big + if it ever got to falling back on him. But I suppose he's accustomed to + take risks?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he is,” said Mrs. Tucker gayly. “He married ME.” + </p> + <p> + The visitor smiled feebly, but was not equal to the opportunity offered + for gallant repudiation. “But suppose you ain't accustomed to risks?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I married HIM,” said Mrs. Tucker. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Calhoun Weaver was human, and succumbed to this last charming + audacity. He broke into a noisy but genuine laugh, shook Mrs. Tucker's + hand with effusion, said, “Now that's regular Blue Grass and no mistake!” + and retreated under cover of his hilarity. In the hall he made a rallying + stand to repeat confidentially to the servant who had overheard them: + “Blue Grass, all over, you bet your life,” and, opening the door, was + apparently swallowed up in the tempest. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker's smile kept her lips until she had returned to her room, and + even then languidly shone in her eyes for some minutes after, as she gazed + abstractedly from her window on the storm-tossed bay in the distance. + Perhaps some girlish vision of the peaceful Blue Glass plain momentarily + usurped the prospect; but it is to be doubted if there was much romance in + that retrospect, or that it was more interesting to her than the positive + and sharply cut outlines of the practical life she now held. Howbeit she + soon forgot this fancy in lazily watching a boat that, in the teeth of the + gale, was beating round Alcatraz Island. Although at times a mere blank + speck on the gray waste of foam, a closer scrutiny showed it to be one of + those lateen-rigged Italian fishing boats that so often flecked the + distant bay. Lost in the sudden darkening of rain, or reappearing beneath + the lifted curtain of the squall, she watched it weather the island, and + then turn its laboring but persistent course towards the open channel. A + rent in the Indian-inky sky, that showed the narrowing portals of the + Golden Gate beyond, revealed, as unexpectedly, the destination of the + little craft, a tall ship that hitherto lay hidden in the mist of the + Saucelito shore. As the distance lessened between boat and ship, they were + again lost in the downward swoop of another squall. When it lifted, the + ship was creeping under the headland towards the open sea, but the boat + was gone. Mrs. Tucker in vain rubbed the pane with her handkerchief; it + had vanished. Meanwhile the ship, as she neared the Gate, drew out from + the protecting headland, stood outlined for a moment with spars and canvas + hearsed in black against the lurid rent in the horizon, and then seemed to + sink slowly into the heaving obscurity beyond. A sudden onset of rain + against the windows obliterated the remaining prospect; the entrance of a + servant completed the diversion. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Poindexter, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker lifted her pretty eyebrows interrogatively. Captain Poindexter + was a legal friend of her husband, and had dined there frequently; + nevertheless she asked: “Did you tell him Mr. Tucker was not at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, 'm.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he ask for ME?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, 'm.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I'll be down directly.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker's quiet face did not betray the fact that this second visitor + was even less interesting than the first. In her heart she did not like + Captain Poindexter. With a clever woman's instinct she had early detected + the fact that he had a superior, stronger nature than her husband; as a + loyal wife, she secretly resented the occasional unconscious exhibition of + this fact on the part of his intimate friend in their familiar + intercourse. Added to this slight jealousy, there was a certain moral + antagonism between herself and the captain which none but themselves knew. + They were both philosophers, but Mrs. Tucker's serene and languid optimism + would not tolerate the compassionate and kind-hearted pessimisms of the + lawyer. “Knowing what Jack Poindexter does of human nature,” her husband + had once said, “it's mighty fine in him to be so kind and forgiving. You + ought to like him better, Belle.” “And qualify myself to be forgiven,” + said the lady pertly. “I don't see what you're driving at, Belle; I give + it up,” had responded the puzzled husband. Mrs. Tucker kissed his high but + foolish forehead tenderly, and said: “I'm glad you don't, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile her second visitor had, like the first, employed the interval in + a critical survey of the glories of the new furniture, but with apparently + more compassion than resentment in his manner. Once only had his + expression changed. Over the fireplace hung a large photograph of Mr. + Spencer Tucker. It was retouched, refined, and idealized in the highest + style of that polite and diplomatic art. As Captain Poindexter looked upon + the fringed hazel eyes, the drooping raven moustache, the clustering + ringlets, and the Byronic full throat and turned-down collar of his + friend, a smile of exhausted humorous tolerance and affectionate + impatience curved his lips. “Well, you ARE a fool, aren't you?” he + apostrophized it half-audibly. + </p> + <p> + He was standing before the picture as she entered. Even in the trying + contiguity of that peerless work he would have been called a fine-looking + man. As he advanced to greet her, it was evident that his military title + was not one of the mere fanciful sobriquets of the locality. In his erect + figure and the disciplined composure of limb and attitude there were still + traces of the refined academic rigors of West Point. The pliant + adaptability of Western civilization which enabled him, three years + before, to leave the army and transfer his executive ability to the more + profitable profession of the law, had loosed sash and shoulder-strap, but + had not entirely removed the restraint of the one, or the bearing of the + other. + </p> + <p> + “Spencer is in Sacramento,” began Mrs. Tucker in languid explanation, + after the first greetings were over. + </p> + <p> + “I knew he was not here,” replied Captain Poindexter gently, as he drew + the proffered chair towards her, “but this is business that concerns you + both.” He stopped and glanced upwards at the picture. “I suppose you know + nothing of his business? Of course not,” he added reassuringly, “nothing, + absolutely nothing, certainly.” He said this so kindly, and yet so + positively, as if to promptly dispose of that question before going + further, that she assented mechanically. “Well, then, he's taken some big + risks in the way of business, and—well, things have gone bad with + him, you know. Very bad! Really, they couldn't be worse! Of course it was + dreadfully rash and all that,” he went on, as if commenting upon the + amusing waywardness of a child; “but the result is the usual smash-up of + everything, money, credit, and all!” He laughed and added: “Yes, he's got + cut off—mules and baggage regularly routed and dispersed! I'm in + earnest.” He raised his eyebrows and frowned slightly, as if to deprecate + any corresponding hilarity on the part of Mrs. Tucker, or any attempt to + make TOO light of the subject, and then rising, placed his hands behind + his back, beamed half-humorously upon her from beneath her husband's + picture, and repeated: “That's so.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker instinctively knew that he spoke the truth, and that it was + impossible for him to convey it in any other than his natural manner; but + between the shock and the singular influence of that manner she could at + first only say, “You don't mean it!” fully conscious of the utter inanity + of the remark, and that it seemed scarcely less cold-blooded than his own. + </p> + <p> + Poindexter, still smiling, nodded. + </p> + <p> + She arose with an effort. She had recovered from the first shock, and + pride lent her a determined calmness that more than equaled Poindexter's + easy philosophy. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “At sea, and I hope by this time where he can not be found or followed.” + </p> + <p> + Was her momentary glimpse of the outgoing ship a coincidence, or only a + vision? She was confused and giddy, but, mastering her weakness, she + managed to continue in a lower voice: + </p> + <p> + “You have no message for me from him? He told you nothing to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, absolutely nothing,” replied Poindexter. “It was as much as he + could do, I reckon, to get fairly away before the crash came.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you did not see him go?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no,” said Poindexter. “I'd hardly have managed things in this way.” + He checked himself and added, with a forgiving smile, “But he was the best + judge of what he needed, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I will hear from him,” she said quietly, “as soon as he is + safe. He must have had enough else to think about, poor fellow.” + </p> + <p> + She said this so naturally and quietly that Poindexter was deceived. He + had no idea that the collected woman before him was thinking only of + solitude and darkness, of her own room, and madly longing to be there. He + said, “Yes, I dare say,” in quite another voice, and glanced at the + picture. But as she remained standing, he continued more earnestly, “I + didn't come here to tell you what you might read in the newspapers + to-morrow morning, and what everybody might tell you. Before that time I + want you to do something to save a fragment of your property from the + ruin; do you understand? I want you to make a rally, and bring off + something in good order.” + </p> + <p> + “For him?” said Mrs. Tucker, with brightening eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, of course—if you like—but as if for yourself. Do + you know the Rancho de los Cuervos?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “It's almost the only bit of real property your husband hasn't sold, + mortgaged, or pledged. Why it was exempt, or whether only forgotten, I + can't say.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you why,” said Mrs. Tucker, with a slight return of color. “It + was the first land we ever bought, and Spencer always said it should be + mine and he would build a new house on it.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Poindexter smiled and nodded at the picture. “Oh, he did say that, + did he? Well, THAT'S evidence. But you see he never gave you the deed, and + by sunrise to-morrow his creditors will attach it—unless—” + </p> + <p> + “Unless—” repeated Mrs. Tucker, with kindling eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Unless,” continued Captain Poindexter, “they happen to find YOU in + possession.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go,” said Mrs. Tucker. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you will,” returned Poindexter, pleasantly; “only, as it's a + big contract to take, suppose we see how you can fill it. It's forty miles + to Los Cuervos, and you can't trust yourself to steamboat or stage-coach. + The steamboat left an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had only known this then!” ejaculated Mrs. Tucker. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it, but you had company then,” said Poindexter, with ironical + gallantry, “and I wouldn't disturb you.” Without saying how he knew it, he + continued, “In the stage-coach you might be recognized. You must go in a + private conveyance and alone; even I can not go with you, for I must go on + before and meet you there. Can you drive forty miles?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker lifted up her abstracted pretty lids. “I once drove fifty—at + home,” she returned simply. + </p> + <p> + “Good! and I dare say you did it then for fun. Do it now for something + real and personal, as we lawyers say. You will have relays and a plan of + the road. It's rough weather for a pasear, but all the better for that. + You'll have less company on the road.” + </p> + <p> + “How soon can I go?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “The sooner the better. I've arranged everything for you already,” he + continued with a laugh. “Come now, that's a compliment to you, isn't it?” + He smiled a moment in her steadfast, earnest face, and then said, more + gravely, “You'll do. Now listen.” + </p> + <p> + He then carefully detailed his plan. There was so little of excitement or + mystery in their manner that the servant, who returned to light the gas, + never knew that the ruin and bankruptcy of the house was being told before + her, or that its mistress was planning her secret flight. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon; I will see you to-morrow then,” said Poindexter, raising + his eyes to hers as the servant opened the door for him. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon,” repeated Mrs. Tucker quietly answering his look. “You + need not light the gas in my room, Mary,” she continued in the same tone + of voice as the door closed upon him; “I shall lie down for a few moments, + and then I may run over to the Robinsons for the evening.” + </p> + <p> + She regained her room composedly. The longing desire to bury her head in + her pillow and “think out” her position had gone. She did not apostrophize + her fate, she did not weep; few real women do in the access of calamity, + or when there is anything else to be done. She felt that she knew it all; + she believed she had sounded the profoundest depths of the disaster, and + seemed already so old in her experience that she almost fancied she had + been prepared for it. Perhaps she did not fully appreciate it; to a life + like hers it was only an incident, the mere turning of a page of the + illimitable book of youth; the breaking up of what she now felt had become + a monotony. In fact, she was not quite sure she had ever been satisfied + with their present success. Had it brought her all she expected? She + wanted to say this to her husband, not only to comfort him, poor fellow, + but that they might come to a better understanding of life in the future. + She was not perhaps different from other loving women who, believing in + this unattainable goal of matrimony, have sought it in the various + episodes of fortune or reverses, in the bearing of children, or the loss + of friends. In her childless experience there was no other life that had + taken root in her circumstances and might suffer transplantation; only she + and her husband could lose or profit by the change. The “perfect” + understanding would come under other conditions than these. + </p> + <p> + She would have gone superstitiously to the window to gaze in the direction + of the vanished ship, but another instinct restrained her. She would put + aside all yearning for him until she had done something to help him, and + earned the confidence he seemed to have withheld. Perhaps it was pride—perhaps + she never really believed his exodus was distant or complete. + </p> + <p> + With a full knowledge that to-morrow the various ornaments and pretty + trifles around her would be in the hands of the law, she gathered only a + few necessaries for her flight and some familiar personal trinkets. I am + constrained to say that this self-abnegation was more fastidious than + moral. She had no more idea of the ethics of bankruptcy than any other + charming woman; she simply did not like to take with her any contagious + memory of the chapter of the life just closing. She glanced around the + home she was leaving without a lingering regret; there was no sentiment of + tradition or custom that might be destroyed; her roots lay too near the + surface to suffer from dislocation; the happiness of her childless union + had depended upon no domestic centre, nor was its flame sacred to any + local hearthstone. It was without a sigh that, when night had fully + fallen, she slipped unnoticed down the staircase. At the door of the + drawing-room she paused and then entered with the first guilty feeling of + shame she had known that evening. Looking stealthily around she mounted a + chair before her husband's picture, kissed the irreproachable moustache + hurriedly, said, “You foolish darling, you!” and slipped out again. With + this touching indorsement of the views of a rival philosopher, she closed + the door softly and left her home forever. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + The wind and rain had cleared the unfrequented suburb of any observant + lounger, and the darkness, lit only by far-spaced, gusty lamps, hid her + hastening figure. She had barely crossed the second street when she heard + the quick clatter of hoofs behind her; a buggy drove up to the curbstone, + and Poindexter leaped out. She entered quickly, but for a moment he still + held the reins of the impatient horse. “He's rather fresh,” he said, eying + her keenly; “are you sure you can manage him?” + </p> + <p> + “Give me the reins,” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + He placed them in the two firm, well-shaped hands that reached from the + depths of the vehicle, and was satisfied. Yet he lingered. + </p> + <p> + “It's rough work for a lone woman,” he said, almost curtly. “I can't go + with you, but, speak frankly, is there any man you know whom you can trust + well enough to take? It's not too late yet; think a moment!” + </p> + <p> + He paused over the buttoning of the leather apron of the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + “No, there is none,” answered the voice from the interior; “and it's + better so. Is all ready?” + </p> + <p> + “One moment more.” He had recovered his half-bantering manner. “You HAVE a + friend and countryman already with you, do you know? Your horse is Blue + Grass. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + With these words ringing in her ears she began her journey. The horse, as + if eager to maintain the reputation which his native district had given + his race, as well as the race of the pretty woman behind him, leaped + impatiently forward. But pulled together by the fine and firm fingers that + seemed to guide rather than check his exuberance, he presently struck into + the long, swinging pace of his kind, and kept it throughout without + “break” or acceleration. Over the paved streets the light buggy rattled, + and the slender shafts danced around his smooth barrel, but when they + touched the level high-road, horse and vehicle slipped forward through the + night, a swift and noiseless phantom. Mrs. Tucker could see his graceful + back dimly rising and falling before her with tireless rhythm, and could + feel the intelligent pressure of his mouth until it seemed the responsive + grasp of a powerful but kindly hand. The faint glow of conquest came to + her cold cheek; the slight stirrings of pride moved her preoccupied heart. + A soft light filled her hazel eyes. A desolate woman, bereft of husband + and home, and flying through storm and night, she knew not where, she + still leaned forward towards her horse. “Was he Blue Grass, then, dear old + boy?” she gently cooed at him in the darkness. He evidently WAS, and + responded by blowing her an ostentatious equine kiss. “And he would be + good to his own forsaken Belle,” she murmured caressingly, “and wouldn't + let any one harm her?” But here, overcome by the lazy witchery of her + voice, he shook his head so violently that Mrs. Tucker, after the fashion + of her sex, had the double satisfaction of demurely restraining the + passion she had evoked. + </p> + <p> + To avoid the more traveled thoroughfare, while the evening was still + early, it had been arranged that she should at first take a less direct + but less frequented road. This was a famous pleasure-drive from San + Francisco, a graveled and sanded stretch of eight miles to the sea and an + ultimate “cocktail,” in a “stately pleasure-dome decreed” among the surf + and rocks of the Pacific shore. It was deserted now, and left to the + unobstructed sweep of the wind and rain. Mrs. Tucker would not have chosen + this road. With the instinctive jealousy of a bucolic inland race born by + great rivers, she did not like the sea; and again the dim and dreary waste + tended to recall the vision connected with her husband's flight, upon + which she had resolutely shut her eyes. But when she had reached it the + road suddenly turned, following the trend of the beach, and she was + exposed to the full power of its dread fascinations. The combined roar of + sea and shore was in her ears; as the direct force of the gale had + compelled her to furl the protecting hood of the buggy to keep the light + vehicle from oversetting or drifting to leeward, she could no longer shut + out the heaving chaos on the right from which the pallid ghosts of dead + and dying breakers dimly rose and sank as if in awful salutation. At times + through the darkness a white sheet appeared spread before the path and + beneath the wheels of the buggy, which, when withdrawn with a reluctant + hiss, seemed striving to drag the exhausted beach seaward with it. But the + blind terror of her horse, who swerved at every sweep of the surge, shamed + her own half-superstitious fears, and with the effort to control his alarm + she regained her own self-possession, albeit with eyelashes wet not + altogether with the salt spray from the sea. This was followed by a + reaction, perhaps stimulated by her victory over the beaten animal, when + for a time, she knew not how long, she felt only a mad sense of freedom + and power; oblivious of even her sorrows, her lost home and husband, and + with intense feminine consciousness she longed to be a man. She was + scarcely aware that the track turned again inland until the beat of the + horse's hoofs on the firm ground and an acceleration of speed showed her + she had left the beach and the mysterious sea behind her, and she + remembered that she was near the end of the first stage of her journey. + Half an hour later the twinkling lights of the roadside inn where she was + to change horses rose out of the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Happily for her, the ostler considered the horse, who had a local + reputation, of more importance than the unknown muffled figure in the + shadow of the unfurled hood, and confined his attention to the animal. + After a careful examination of his feet and a few comments addressed + solely to the superior creation, he led him away. Mrs. Tucker would have + liked to part more affectionately from her four-footed compatriot, and + felt a sudden sense of loneliness at the loss of her new friend, but a + recollection of certain cautions of Captain Poindexter's kept her mute. + Nevertheless, the ostler's ostentatious adjuration of “Now then, aren't + you going to bring out that mustang for the Senora?” puzzled her. It was + not until the fresh horse was put to, and she had flung a piece of gold + into the attendant's hand, that the “Gracias” of his unmistakable Saxon + speech revealed to her the reason of the lawyer's caution. Poindexter had + evidently represented her to these people as a native Californian who did + not speak English. In her inconsistency her blood took fire at this first + suggestion of deceit, and burned in her face. Why should he try to pass + her off as anybody else? Why should she not use her own, her husband's + name? She stopped and bit her lip. + </p> + <p> + It was but the beginning of an uneasy train of thought. She suddenly found + herself thinking of her visitor, Calhoun Weaver, and not pleasantly. He + would hear of their ruin tomorrow, perhaps of her own flight. He would + remember his visit, and what would he think of her deceitful frivolity? + Would he believe that she was then ignorant of the failure? It was her + first sense of any accountability to others than herself, but even then it + was rather owing to an uneasy consciousness of what her husband must feel + if he were subjected to the criticisms of men like Calhoun. She wondered + if others knew that he had kept her in ignorance of his flight. Did + Poindexter know it, or had he only entrapped her into the admission? Why + had she not been clever enough to make him think that she knew it already? + For the moment she hated Poindexter for sharing that secret. Yet this was + again followed by a new impatience of her husband's want of insight into + her ability to help him. Of course the poor fellow could not bear to worry + her, could not bear to face such men as Calhoun, or even Poindexter (she + added exultingly to herself), but he might have sent her a line as he + fled, only to prepare her to meet and combat the shame alone. It did not + occur to her unsophisticated singleness of nature that she was accepting + as an error of feeling what the world would call cowardly selfishness. + </p> + <p> + At midnight the storm lulled and a few stars trembled through the rent + clouds. Her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and her country + instincts, a little overlaid by the urban experiences of the last few + years, came again to the surface. She felt the fresh, cool radiation from + outlying, upturned fields, the faint, sad odors from dim stretches of + pricking grain and quickening leaf, and wondered if at Los Cuervos it + might be possible to reproduce the peculiar verdure of her native + district. She beguiled her fancy by an ambitious plan of retrieving their + fortunes by farming; her comfortable tastes had lately rebelled against + the homeless mechanical cultivation of these desolate but teeming + Californian acres, and for a moment indulged in a vision of a vine-clad + cottage home that in any other woman would have been sentimental. Her + cramped limbs aching, she took advantage of the security of the darkness + and the familiar contiguity of the fields to get down from the vehicle, + gather her skirts together, and run at the head of the mustang, until her + chill blood was thawed, night drawing a modest veil over this charming + revelation of the nymph and woman. But the sudden shadow of a coyote + checked the scouring feet of this swift Camilla, and sent her back + precipitately to the buggy. Nevertheless, she was refreshed and able to + pursue her journey, until the cold gray of early morning found her at the + end of her second stage. + </p> + <p> + Her route was changed again from the main highway, rendered dangerous by + the approach of day and the contiguity of the neighboring rancheros. The + road was rough and hilly, her new horse and vehicle in keeping with the + rudeness of the route—by far the most difficult of her whole + journey. The rare wagon tracks that indicated her road were often scarcely + discernible; at times they led her through openings in the half-cleared + woods, skirted suspicious morasses, painfully climbed the smooth, + dome-like hills, or wound along perilous slopes at a dangerous angle. + Twice she had to alight and cling to the sliding wheels on one of those + treacherous inclines, or drag them from impending ruts or immovable mire. + In the growing light she could distinguish the distant, low-lying marshes + eaten by encroaching sloughs and insidious channels, and beyond them the + faint gray waste of the Lower Bay. A darker peninsula in the marsh she + knew to be the extreme boundary of her future home: the Rancho de los + Cuervos. In another hour she began to descend to the plain, and once more + to approach the main road, which now ran nearly parallel with her track. + She scanned it cautiously for any early traveler; it stretched north and + south in apparent unending solitude. She struck into it boldly, and urged + her horse to the top of his speed, until she reached the cross road that + led to the rancho. But here she paused and allowed the reins to drop idly + on the mustang's back. A singular and unaccountable irresolution seized + her. The difficulties of her journey were over; the rancho lay scarcely + two miles away; she had achieved the most important part of her task in + the appointed time, but she hesitated. What had she come for? She tried to + recall Poindexter's words, even her own enthusiasm, but in vain. She was + going to take possession of her husband's property, she knew, that was + all. But the means she had taken seemed now so exaggerated and mysterious + for that simple end that she began to dread an impending something, or + some vague danger she had not considered, that she was rushing blindly to + meet. Full of this strange feeling she almost mechanically stopped her + horse as she entered the cross road. + </p> + <p> + From this momentary hesitation a singular sound aroused her. It seemed at + first like the swift hurrying by of some viewless courier of the air, the + vague alarm of some invisible flying herald, or like the inarticulate cry + that precedes a storm. It seemed to rise and fall around her as if with + some changing urgency of purpose. Raising her eyes she suddenly recognized + the two far-stretching lines of telegraph wire above her head, and knew + the aeolian cry of the morning wind along its vibrating chords. But it + brought another and more practical fear to her active brain. Perhaps even + now the telegraph might be anticipating her! Had Poindexter thought of + that? She hesitated no longer, but laying the whip on the back of her + jaded mustang again hurried forward. + </p> + <p> + As the level horizon grew more distinct, her attention was attracted by + the white sail of a small boat lazily threading the sinuous channel of the + slough. It might be Poindexter arriving by the more direct route from the + steamboat that occasionally lay off the ancient embarcadero of the Los + Cuervos Rancho. But even while watching it her quick ear caught the sound + of galloping hoofs behind her. She turned quickly and saw she was followed + by a horseman. But her momentary alarm was succeeded by a feeling of + relief as she recognized the erect figure and square shoulders of + Poindexter. Yet she could not help thinking that he looked more like a + militant scout, and less like a cautious legal adviser, than ever. + </p> + <p> + With unaffected womanliness she rearranged her slightly disordered hair as + he drew up beside her. “I thought you were in yonder boat,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Not I,” he laughed; “I distanced you by the high road two hours, and have + been reconnoitring, until I saw you hesitate at the cross roads.” + </p> + <p> + “But who is in the boat?” asked Mrs. Tucker, partly to hide her + embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Only some early Chinese market gardener, I dare say. But you are safe + now. You are on your own land. You passed the boundary monument of the + rancho five minutes ago. Look! All you see before you is yours from the + embarcadero to yonder Coast Range.” + </p> + <p> + The tone of half-raillery did not, however, cheer Mrs. Tucker. She + shuddered slightly and cast her eyes over the monotonous sea of tule and + meadow. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't look pretty, perhaps,” continued Poindexter, “but it's the + richest land in the State, and the embarcadero will some day be a town. I + suppose you'll call it Blue Grassville. But you seem tired!” he said, + suddenly dropping his voice to a tone of half-humorous sympathy. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker managed to get rid of an impending tear under the pretense of + clearing her eyes. “Are we nearly there?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nearly. You know,” he added with the same half-mischievous, + half-sympathizing gayety, “it's not exactly a palace you're coming to. + Hardly. It's the old casa that has been deserted for years, but I thought + it better you should go into possession there than take up your abode at + the shanty where your husband's farm-hands are. No one will know when you + take possession of the casa, while the very hour of your arrival at the + shanty would be known; and if they should make any trouble—” + </p> + <p> + “If they should make any trouble?” repeated Mrs. Tucker, lifting her + frank, inquiring eyes to Poindexter. + </p> + <p> + His horse suddenly rearing from an apparently accidental prick of the + spur, it was a minute or two before he was able to explain. “I mean if + this ever comes up as a matter of evidence, you know. But here we are!” + </p> + <p> + What had seemed to be an overgrown mound rising like an island out of the + dead level of the grassy sea now resolved itself into a collection of + adobe walls, eaten and incrusted with shrubs and vines, that bore some + resemblance to the usual uninhabited-looking exterior of a + Spanish-American dwelling. Apertures that might have been lance-shaped + windows or only cracks and fissures in the walls were choked up with weeds + and grass, and gave no passing glimpse of the interior. Entering a ruinous + corral they came to a second entrance, which proved to be the patio or + courtyard. The deserted wooden corridor, with beams, rafters, and floors + whitened by the eternal sun and wind, contained a few withered leaves, + dryly rotting skins, and thongs of leather, as if undisturbed by human + care. But among these scattered debris of former life and habitation there + was no noisome or unclean suggestion of decay. A faint, spiced odor of + desiccation filled the bare walls. There was no slime on stone or + sun-dried brick. In place of fungus or discolored moisture the dust of + efflorescence whitened in the obscured corners. The elements had picked + clean the bones of the crumbling tenement ere they should finally absorb + it. + </p> + <p> + A withered old peon woman, who in dress, complexion, and fibrous hair + might have been an animated fragment of the debris, rustled out of a low + vaulted passage and welcomed them with a feeble crepitation. Following her + into the dim interior Mrs. Tucker was surprised to find some slight + attempt at comfort and even adornment in the two or three habitable + apartments. They were scrupulously clean and dry, two qualities which in + her feminine eyes atoned for poverty of material. + </p> + <p> + “I could not send anything from San Bruno, the nearest village, without + attracting attention,” explained Poindexter; “but if you can manage to + picnic here for a day longer, I'll get one of our Chinese friends here,” + he pointed to the slough, “to bring over, for his return cargo from across + the bay, any necessaries you may want. There is no danger of his betraying + you,” he added, with an ironical smile; “Chinamen and Indians are, by an + ingenious provision of the statute of California, incapable of giving + evidence against a white person. You can trust your handmaiden perfectly—even + if she can't trust YOU. That is your sacred privilege under the + constitution. And now, as I expect to catch the up boat ten miles from + hence, I must say 'good-by' until to-morrow night. I hope to bring you + then some more definite plans for the future. The worst is over.” He held + her hand for a moment, and with a graver voice continued, “You have done + it very well—do you know—very well!” + </p> + <p> + In the slight embarrassment produced by his sudden change of manner she + felt that her thanks seemed awkward and restrained. “Don't thank me,” he + laughed, with a prompt return of his former levity, “that's my trade. I + only advised. You have saved yourself like a plucky woman—shall I + say like Blue Grass? Good-by!” He mounted his horse, but, as if struck by + an after-thought, wheeled and drew up by her side again. “If I were you I + wouldn't see many strangers for a day or two, and listen to as little news + as a woman possibly can.” He laughed again, waved her a half-gallant, + half-military salute, and was gone. The question she had been trying to + frame, regarding the probability of communication with her husband, + remained unasked. At least she had saved her pride before him. + </p> + <p> + Addressing herself to the care of her narrow household, she mechanically + put away the few things she had brought with her, and began to readjust + the scant furniture. She was a little discomposed at first at the absence + of bolts, locks, and even window-fastenings until assured, by Concha's + evident inability to comprehend her concern, that they were quite unknown + at Los Cuervos. Her slight knowledge of Spanish was barely sufficient to + make her wants known, so that the relief of conversation with her only + companion was debarred her, and she was obliged to content herself with + the sapless, crackling smiles and withered genuflexions that the old woman + dropped like dead leaves in her path. It was staring noon when, the house + singing like an empty shell in the monotonous wind, she felt she could + stand the solitude no longer, and, crossing the glaring patio and + whistling corridor, made her way to the open gateway. + </p> + <p> + But the view without seemed to intensify her desolation. The broad expanse + of the shadowless plain reached apparently to the Coast Range, trackless + and unbroken save by one or two clusters of dwarfed oaks, which at that + distance were but mossy excrescences on the surface, barely raised above + the dead level. On the other side the marsh took up the monotony and + carried it, scarcely interrupted by undefined water-courses, to the + faintly marked out horizon line of the remote bay. Scattered and + apparently motionless black spots on the meadows that gave a dreary + significance to the title of “the Crows” which the rancho bore, and sudden + gray clouds of sand-pipers on the marshes, that rose and vanished down the + wind, were the only signs of life. Even the white sail of the early + morning was gone. + </p> + <p> + She stood there until the aching of her straining eyes and the stiffening + of her limbs in the cold wind compelled her to seek the sheltered warmth + of the courtyard. Here she endeavored to make friends with a bright-eyed + lizard, who was sunning himself in the corridor; a graceful little + creature in blue and gold, from whom she felt at other times she might + have fled, but whose beauty and harmlessness solitude had made known to + her. With misplaced kindness she tempted it with bread-crumbs, with no + other effect than to stiffen it into stony astonishment. She wondered if + she should become like the prisoners she had read of in books, who poured + out their solitary affections on noisome creatures, and she regretted even + the mustang, which with the buggy had disappeared under the charge of some + unknown retainer on her arrival. Was she not a prisoner? The shutterless + windows, yawning doors, and open gate refuted her suggestion, but the + encompassing solitude and trackless waste still held her captive. + Poindexter had told her it was four miles to the shanty; she might walk + there. Why had she given her word that she would remain at the rancho + until he returned? + </p> + <p> + The long day crept monotonously away, and she welcomed the night which + shut out the dreary prospect. But it brought no cessation of the harassing + wind without, nor surcease of the nervous irritation its perpetual and + even activity wrought upon her. It haunted her pillow even in her + exhausted sleep, and seemed to impatiently beckon her to rise and follow + it. It brought her feverish dreams of her husband, footsore and weary, + staggering forward under its pitiless lash and clamorous outcry; she would + have gone to his assistance, but when she reached his side and held out + her arms to him it hurried her past with merciless power, and, bearing her + away, left him hopelessly behind. It was broad day when she awoke. The + usual night showers of the waning rainy season had left no trace in sky or + meadow; the fervid morning sun had already dried the patio; only the + restless, harrying wind remained. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker arose with a resolve. She had learned from Concha on the + previous evening that a part of the shanty was used as a tienda or shop + for the laborers and rancheros. Under the necessity of purchasing some + articles, she would go there and for a moment mingle with those people, + who would not recognize her. Even if they did, her instinct told her it + would be less to be feared than the hopeless uncertainty of another day. + As she left the house the wind seemed to seize her as in her dream, and + hurry her along with it, until in a few moments the walls of the low casa + sank into the earth again and she was alone, but for the breeze on the + solitary plain. The level distance glittered in the sharp light, a few + crows with slant wings dipped and ran down the wind before her, and a + passing gleam on the marsh was explained by the far-off cry of a curlew. + </p> + <p> + She had walked for an hour, upheld by the stimulus of light and morning + air, when the cluster of scrub oaks, which was her destination, opened + enough to show two rambling sheds, before one of which was a wooden + platform containing a few barrels and bones. As she approached nearer, she + could see that one or two horses were tethered under the trees, that their + riders were lounging by a horse-trough, and that over an open door the + word Tienda was rudely painted on a board, and as rudely illustrated by + the wares displayed at door and window. Accustomed as she was to the + poverty of frontier architecture, even the crumbling walls of the old + hacienda she had just left seemed picturesque to the rigid angles of the + thin, blank, unpainted shell before her. One of the loungers, who was + reading a newspaper aloud as she advanced, put it aside and stared at her; + there was an evident commotion in the shop as she stepped upon the + platform, and when she entered, with breathless lips and beating heart, + she found herself the object of a dozen curious eyes. Her quick pride + resented the scrutiny and recalled her courage, and it was with a slight + coldness in her usual lazy indifference that she leaned over the counter + and asked for the articles she wanted. + </p> + <p> + The request was followed by a dead silence. Mrs. Tucker repeated it with + some hauteur. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you don't seem to know this store is in the hands of the + sheriff,” said one of the loungers. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker was not aware of it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know any one who's a better right to know than Spence + Tucker's wife,” said another with a coarse laugh. The laugh was echoed by + the others. Mrs. Tucker saw the pit into which she had deliberately + walked, but did not flinch. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any one to serve here?” she asked, turning her clear eyes full + upon the bystanders. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better ask the sheriff. He was the last one to SARVE here. He + sarved an attachment,” replied the inevitable humorist of all Californian + assemblages. + </p> + <p> + “Is he here?” asked Mrs. Tucker, disregarding the renewed laughter which + followed this subtle witticism. + </p> + <p> + The loungers at the door made way for one of their party, who was half + dragged, half pushed into the shop. “Here he is,” said half a dozen eager + voices, in the fond belief that his presence might impart additional humor + to the situation. He cast a deprecating glance at Mrs. Tucker and said, + “It's so, madam! This yer place is attached; but if there's anything + you're wanting, why I reckon, boys,”—he turned half appealingly to + the crowd,—“we could oblige a lady.” There was a vague sound of + angry opposition and remonstrance from the back door of the shop, but the + majority, partly overcome by Mrs. Tucker's beauty, assented. “Only,” + continued the officer explanatorily, “ez these yer goods are in the hands + of the creditors, they ought to be represented by an equivalent in money. + If you're expecting they should be charged—” + </p> + <p> + “But I wish to PAY for them,” interrupted Mrs. Tucker, with a slight flush + of indignation; “I have the money.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I bet you have!” screamed a voice, as, overturning all opposition, + the malcontent at the back door, in the shape of an infuriated woman, + forced her way into the shop. “I'll bet you have the money! Look at her, + boys! Look at the wife of the thief, with the stolen money in diamonds in + her ears and rings on her fingers. SHE'S got money if WE'VE none. SHE can + pay for what she fancies, if we haven't a cent to redeem the bed that's + stolen from under us. Oh yes, buy it all, Mrs. Spencer Tucker! buy the + whole shop, Mrs. Spencer Tucker, do you hear? And if you ain't satisfied + then, buy my clothes, my wedding ring, the only things your husband hasn't + stolen.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you,” said Mrs. Tucker coldly, turning towards the + door. But with a flying leap across the counter her relentless adversary + stood between her and retreat. + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand! Perhaps you don't understand that your husband not + only stole the hard labor of these men, but even the little money they + brought here and trusted to his thieving hands. Perhaps you don't know + that he stole my husband's hard earnings, mortgaged these very goods you + want to buy, and that he is to-day a convicted thief, a forger, and a + runaway coward. Perhaps, if you can't understand ME, you can read the + newspaper. Look!” She exultingly opened the paper the sheriff had been + reading aloud, and pointed to the displayed headlines. “Look! there are + the very words, 'Forgery, Swindling, Embezzlement!' Do you see? And + perhaps you can't understand this. Look! 'Shameful Flight. Abandons his + Wife. Runs off with a Notorious—'” + </p> + <p> + “Easy, old gal, easy now. D—n it! Will you dry up? I say. STOP!” + </p> + <p> + It was too late! + </p> + <p> + The sheriff had dashed the paper from the woman's hand, but not until Mrs. + Tucker had read a single line, a line such as she had sometimes turned + from with weary scorn in her careless perusal of the daily shameful + chronicle of domestic infelicity. Then she had coldly wondered if there + could be any such men and women; and now! The crowd fell back before her; + even the virago was silenced as she looked at her face. The humorist's + face was as white, but not as immobile, as he gasped, “Christ! if I don't + believe she knew nothin' of it!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the full force of such a supposition, with all its poignancy, + its dramatic intensity, and its pathos, possessed the crowd. In the + momentary clairvoyance of enthusiasm they caught a glimpse of the truth, + and by one of the strange reactions of human passion they only waited for + a word of appeal or explanation from her lips to throw themselves at her + feet. Had she simply told her story they would have believed her; had she + cried, fainted, or gone into hysterics, they would have pitied her. She + did neither. Perhaps she thought of neither, or indeed of anything that + was then before her eyes. She walked erect to the door and turned upon the + threshold. “I mean what I say,” she said calmly. “I don't understand you. + But whatever just claims you have upon my husband will be paid by me, or + by his lawyer, Captain Poindexter.” + </p> + <p> + She had lost the sympathy but not the respect of her hearers. They made + way for her with sullen deference as she passed out on the platform. But + her adversary, profiting by the last opportunity, burst into an ironical + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Poindexter, is it? Well, perhaps he's safe to pay YOUR bill, but + as for your husband's—” + </p> + <p> + “That's another matter,” interrupted a familiar voice with the greatest + cheerfulness; “that's what you were going to say, wasn't it? Ha! ha! Well, + Mrs. Patterson,” continued Poindexter, stepping from his buggy, “you never + spoke a truer word in your life. One moment, Mrs. Tucker. Let me send you + back in the buggy. Don't mind ME. I can get a fresh horse of the sheriff. + I'm quite at home here. I say, Patterson, step a few paces this way, will + you? A little further from your wife, please. That'll do. You've got a + claim of five thousand dollars against the property, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that woman just driving away is your one solitary chance of getting + a cent of it. If your wife insults her again, that chance is gone. And if + YOU do—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as there is a God in Israel and a Supreme Court of the State of + California, I'll kill you in your tracks! . . . Stay!” + </p> + <p> + Patterson turned. The irrepressible look of humorous tolerance of all + human frailty had suffused Poindexter's black eyes with mischievous + moisture. “If you think it quite safe to confide to your wife this + prospect of her improvement by widowhood, you may!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Patterson did not inform his wife of the lawyer's personal threat to + himself. But he managed, after Poindexter had left, to make her conscious + that Mrs. Tucker might be a power to be placated and feared. “You've shot + off your mouth at her,” he said argumentatively, “and whether you've hit + the mark or not you've had your say. Ef you think it's worth a possible + five thousand dollars and interest to keep on, heave ahead. Ef you rather + have the chance of getting the rest in cash, you'll let up on her.” “You + don't suppose,” returned Mrs. Patterson contemptuously, “that she's got + anything but what that man of hers—Poindexter—lets her have?” + “The sheriff says,” retorted Patterson surlily, “that she's notified him + that she claims the rancho as a gift from her husband three years ago, and + she's in POSSESSION now, and was so when the execution was out. It don't + make no matter,” he added, with gloomy philosophy, “who's got a full hand + as long as WE ain't got the cards to chip in. I wouldn't 'a' minded it,” + he continued meditatively, “ef Spence Tucker had dropped a hint to me + afore he put out.” “And I suppose,” said Mrs. Patterson angrily, “you'd + have put out too?” “I reckon,” said Patterson simply. + </p> + <p> + Twice or thrice during the evening he referred, more or less directly, to + this lack of confidence shown by his late debtor and employer, and seemed + to feel it more keenly than the loss of property. He confided his + sentiments quite openly to the sheriff in possession, over the whiskey and + euchre with which these gentlemen avoided the difficulties of their + delicate relations. He brooded over it as he handed the keys of the shop + to the sheriff when they parted for the night, and was still thinking of + it when the house was closed, everybody gone to bed, and he was fetching a + fresh jug of water from the well. The moon was at times obscured by flying + clouds, the avant-couriers of the regular evening shower. He was stooping + over the well, when he sprang suddenly to his feet again. “Who's there?” + he demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said a voice so low and faint it might have been a whisper of the + wind in the palisades of the corral. But, indistinct as it was, it was the + voice of the man he was thinking of as far away, and it sent a thrill of + alternate awe and pleasure through his pulses. + </p> + <p> + He glanced quickly around. The moon was hidden by a passing cloud, and + only the faint outlines of the house he had just quitted were visible. “Is + that you, Spence?” he said tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the voice, and a figure dimly emerged from the corner of + the corral. + </p> + <p> + “Lay low, lay low, for God's sake,” said Patterson, hurriedly throwing + himself upon the apparition. “The sheriff and his posse are in there.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must speak to you a moment,” said the figure. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” said Patterson, glancing towards the building. Its blank, + shutterless windows revealed no inner light; a profound silence + encompassed it. “Come quick,” he whispered. Letting his grasp slip down to + the unresisting hand of the stranger, he half-dragged, half-led him, + brushing against the wall, into the open door of the deserted bar-room he + had just quitted, locked the inner door, poured a glass of whiskey from a + decanter, gave it to him, and then watched him drain it at a single + draught. The moon came out, and, falling through the bare windows full + upon the stranger's face, revealed the artistic but slightly disheveled + curls and moustache of the fugitive, Spencer Tucker. + </p> + <p> + Whatever may have been the real influence of this unfortunate man upon his + fellows, it seemed to find expression in a singular unanimity of + criticism. Patterson looked at him with a half-dismal, half-welcoming + smile. “Well, you are a h-ll of a fellow, ain't you?” + </p> + <p> + Spencer Tucker passed his hand through his hair and lifted it from his + forehead, with a gesture at once emotional and theatrical. “I am a man + with a price on me!” he said bitterly. “Give me up to the sheriff, and + you'll get five thousand dollars. Help me, and you'll get nothing. That's + my d——d luck, and yours too, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you're right there,” said Patterson gloomily. “But I thought you + got clean away. Went off in a ship—” + </p> + <p> + “Went off in a boat to a ship,” interrupted Tucker savagely; “went off to + a ship that had all my things on board—everything. The cursed boat + capsized in a squall just off the Heads. The ship, d—n her, sailed + away, the men thinking I was drowned, likely, and that they'd make a good + thing off my goods, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “But the girl, Inez, who was with you, didn't she make a row?” + </p> + <p> + “Quien sabe?” returned Tucker, with a reckless laugh. “Well, I hung on + like grim death to that boat's keel until one of those Chinese fishermen, + in a 'dug-out,' hauled me in opposite Saucelito. I chartered him and his + dug-out to bring me down here.” + </p> + <p> + “Why here?” asked Patterson, with a certain ostentatious caution that + ill-concealed his pensive satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “You may well ask,” returned Tucker, with an equal ostentation of + bitterness, as he slightly waved his companion away. “But I reckoned I + could trust a white man that I'd been kind to, and who wouldn't go back on + me. No, no, let me go! Hand me over to the sheriff!” + </p> + <p> + Patterson had suddenly grasped both the hands of the picturesque scamp + before him, with an affection that for an instant almost shamed the man + who had ruined him. But Tucker's egotism whispered that this affection was + only a recognition of his own superiority, and felt flattered. He was + beginning to believe that he was really the injured party. + </p> + <p> + “What I HAVE and what I have HAD is yours, Spence,” returned Patterson, + with a sad and simple directness that made any further discussion a + gratuitous insult. “I only wanted to know what you reckoned to do here.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to get over across the Coast Range to Monterey,” said Tucker. + “Once there, one of those coasting schooners will bring me down to + Acapulco, where the ship will put in.” + </p> + <p> + Patterson remained silent for a moment. “There's a mustang in the corral + you can take—leastways, I shan't know that it's gone—until + to-morrow afternoon. In an hour from now,” he added, looking from the + window, “these clouds will settle down to business. It will rain; there + will be light enough for you to find your way by the regular trail over + the mountain, but not enough for any one to know you. If you can't push + through to-night, you can lie over at the posada on the summit. Them + greasers that keep it won't know you, and if they did they won't go back + on you. And if they did go back on you, nobody would believe them. It's + mighty curious,” he added, with gloomy philosophy, “but I reckon it's the + reason why Providence allows this kind of cattle to live among white men + and others made in his image. Take a piece of pie, won't you?” He + continued, abandoning this abstract reflection and producing half a flat + pumpkin pie from the bar. Spencer Tucker grasped the pie with one hand and + his friend's fingers with the other, and for a few moments was silent from + the hurried deglutition of viand and sentiment. “YOU'RE a white man, + Patterson, anyway,” he resumed. “I'll take your horse, and put it down in + our account, at your own figure. As soon as this cursed thing is blown + over, I'll be back here and see you through, you bet. I don't desert my + friends, however rough things go with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I see you don't,” returned Patterson, with an unconscious and serious + simplicity that had the effect of the most exquisite irony. “I was only + just saying to the sheriff that if there was anything I could have done + for you, you wouldn't have cut away without letting me know.” Tucker + glanced uneasily at Patterson, who continued, “Ye ain't wanting anything + else?” Then observing that his former friend and patron was roughly but + newly clothed, and betrayed no trace of his last escapade, he added, “I + see you've got a fresh harness.” + </p> + <p> + “That d——d Chinaman bought me these at the landing; they're + not much in style or fit,” he continued, trying to get a moonlight view of + himself in the mirror behind the bar, “but that don't matter here.” He + filled another glass of spirits, jauntily settled himself back in his + chair, and added, “I don't suppose there are any girls around, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “'Cept your wife; she was down here this afternoon,” said Patterson + meditatively. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tucker paused with the pie in his hand. “Ah, yes!” He essayed a + reckless laugh, but that evident simulation failed before Patterson's + melancholy. With an assumption of falling in with his friend's manner, + rather than from any personal anxiety, he continued, “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “That man Poindexter was down here with her. Put her in the hacienda to + hold possession afore the news came out.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” said Tucker, rising hastily. “It don't belong—that is—” + he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Yer thinking the creditors 'll get it, mebbe,” returned Patterson, gazing + at the floor. “Not as long as she's in it; no sir! Whether it's really + hers, or she's only keeping house for Poindexter, she's a fixture, you + bet. They're a team when they pull together, they are!” + </p> + <p> + The smile slowly faded from Tucker's face, that now looked quite rigid in + the moonlight. He put down his glass and walked to the window as Patterson + gloomily continued, “But that's nothing to you. You've got ahead of 'em + both, and had your revenge by going off with the gal. That's what I said + all along. When folks—especially women folks—wondered how you + could leave a woman like your wife, and go off with a scallawag like that + gal, I allers said they'd find out there was a reason. And when your wife + came flaunting down here with Poindexter before she'd quite got quit of + you, I reckon they began to see the whole little game. No sir! I knew it + wasn't on account of the gal! Why, when you came here to-night and told me + quite nat'ral-like and easy how she went off in the ship, and then calmly + ate your pie and drank your whiskey after it, I knew you didn't care for + her. There's my hand, Spence; you're a trump, even if you are a little + looney, eh? Why, what's up?” + </p> + <p> + Shallow and selfish as Tucker was, Patterson's words seemed like a + revelation that shocked him as profoundly as it might have shocked a + nobler nature. The simple vanity and selfishness that made him unable to + conceive any higher reason for his wife's loyalty than his own personal + popularity and success, now that he no longer possessed that eclat, made + him equally capable of the lowest suspicions. He was a dishonored + fugitive, broken in fortune and reputation—why should she not desert + him! He had been unfaithful to her from wildness, from caprice, from the + effect of those fascinating qualities; it seemed to him natural that she + should be disloyal from more deliberate motives, and he hugged himself + with that belief. Yet there was enough doubt, enough of haunting suspicion + that he had lost or alienated a powerful affection, to make him thoroughly + miserable. He returned his friend's grasp convulsively and buried his face + upon his shoulder. But he was not above feeling a certain exultation in + the effect of his misery upon the dog-like, unreasoning affection of + Patterson, nor could he entirely refrain from slightly posing his + affliction before that sympathetic but melancholy man. Suddenly he raised + his head, drew back, and thrust his hand into his bosom with a theatrical + gesture. + </p> + <p> + “What's to keep me from killing Poindexter in his tracks?” he said wildly. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' but HIS shooting first,” returned Patterson, with dismal + practicality. “He's mighty quick, like all them army men. It's about even, + I reckon, that he don't get ME first,” he added in an ominous voice. + </p> + <p> + “No!” returned Tucker, grasping his hand again. “This is not your affair, + Patterson; leave him to me when I come back.” + </p> + <p> + “If he ever gets the drop on me, I reckon he won't wait,” continued + Patterson lugubriously. “He seems to object to my passin' criticism on + your wife, as if she was a queen or an angel.” + </p> + <p> + The blood came to Spencer's cheek, and he turned uneasily to the window. + “It's dark enough now for a start,” he said hurriedly, “and if I could get + across the mountain without lying over at the summit, it would be a day + gained.” + </p> + <p> + Patterson arose without a word, filled a flask of spirit, handed it to his + friend, and silently led the way through the slowly falling rain and the + now settled darkness. The mustang was quickly secured and saddled, a heavy + poncho afforded Tucker a disguise as well as a protection from the rain. + With a few hurried, disconnected words, and an abstracted air, he once + more shook his friend's hand and issued cautiously from the corral. When + out of earshot from the house he put spurs to the mustang, and dashed into + a gallop. + </p> + <p> + To intersect the mountain road he was obliged to traverse part of the + highway his wife had walked that afternoon, and to pass within a mile of + the casa where she was. Long before he reached that point his eyes were + straining the darkness in that direction for some indication of the house + which was to him familiar. Becoming now accustomed to the even obscurity, + less trying to the vision than the alternate light and shadow of cloud or + the full glare of the moonlight, he fancied he could distinguish its low + walls over the monotonous level. One of those impulses which had so often + taken the place of resolution in his character suddenly possessed him to + diverge from his course and approach the house. Why, he could not have + explained. It was not from any feeling of jealous suspicion or + contemplated revenge—that had passed with the presence of Patterson; + it was not from any vague lingering sentiment for the woman he had wronged—he + would have shrunk from meeting her at that moment. But it was full of + these and more possibilities by which he might or might not be guided, and + was at least a movement towards some vague end, and a distraction from + certain thoughts he dared not entertain and could not entirely dismiss. + Inconceivable and inexplicable to human reason, it might have been + acceptable to the Divine omniscience for its predestined result. + </p> + <p> + He left the road at a point where the marsh encroached upon the meadow, + familiar to him already as near the spot where he had embarked from the + Chinaman's boat the day before. He remembered that the walls of the + hacienda were distinctly visible from the tules where he had hidden all + day, and he now knew that the figures he had observed near the building, + which had deterred his first attempts at landing, must have been his wife + and his friend. He knew that a long tongue of the slough filled by the + rising tide followed the marsh, and lay between him and the hacienda. The + sinking of his horse's hoofs in the spongy soil determined its proximity, + and he made a detour to the right to avoid it. In doing so, a light + suddenly rose above the distant horizon ahead of him, trembled faintly, + and then burned with a steady lustre. It was a light at the hacienda. + Guiding his horse half abstractedly in this direction, his progress was + presently checked by the splashing of the animal's hoofs in the water. But + the turf below was firm, and a salt drop that had spattered to his lips + told him that it was only the encroaching of the tide in the meadow. With + his eyes on the light, he again urged his horse forward. The rain lulled, + the clouds began to break, the landscape alternately lightened and grew + dark; the outlines of the crumbling hacienda walls that enshrined the + light grew more visible. A strange and dreamy resemblance to the long + blue-grass plain before his wife's paternal house, as seen by him during + his evening rides to courtship, pressed itself upon him. He remembered, + too, that she used to put a light in the window to indicate her presence. + Following this retrospect, the moon came boldly out, sparkled upon the + overflow of silver at his feet, seemed to show the dark, opaque meadow + beyond for a moment, and then disappeared. It was dark now, but the lesser + earthly star still shone before him as a guide, and pushing towards it, he + passed in the all-embracing shadow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + As Mrs. Tucker, erect, white, and rigid, drove away from the tienda, it + seemed to her to sink again into the monotonous plain, with all its + horrible realities. Except that there was now a new and heart-breaking + significance to the solitude and loneliness of the landscape, all that had + passed might have been a dream. But as the blood came back to her cheek, + and little by little her tingling consciousness returned, it seemed as if + her life had been the dream, and this last scene the awakening reality. + With eyes smarting with the moisture of shame, the scarlet blood at times + dyeing her very neck and temples, she muffled her lowered crest in her + shawl and bent over the reins. Bit by bit she recalled, in Poindexter's + mysterious caution and strange allusions, the corroboration of her + husband's shame and her own disgrace. This was why she was brought hither—the + deserted wife, and abandoned confederate! The mocking glitter of the + concave vault above her, scoured by the incessant wind, the cold stare of + the shining pools beyond, the hard outlines of the Coast Range, and the + jarring accompaniment of her horse's hoofs and rattling buggy wheels + alternately goaded and distracted her. She found herself repeating “No! + no! no!” with the dogged reiteration of fever. She scarcely knew when or + how she reached the hacienda. She was only conscious that as she entered + the patio the dusty solitude that had before filled her with unrest now + came to her like balm. A benumbing peace seemed to fall from the crumbling + walls; the peace of utter seclusion, isolation, oblivion, death! + Nevertheless, an hour later, when the jingle of spurs and bridle were + again heard in the road, she started to her feet with bent brows and a + kindling eye, and confronted Captain Poindexter in the corridor. + </p> + <p> + “I would not have intruded upon you so soon again,” he said gravely, “but + I thought I might perhaps spare you a repetition of the scene of this + morning. Hear me out, please,” he added, with a gentle, half-deprecating + gesture, as she lifted the beautiful scorn of her eyes to his. “I have + just heard that your neighbor, Don Jose Santierra, of Los Gatos, is on his + way to this house. He once claimed this land, and hated your husband, who + bought of the rival claimant, whose grant was confirmed. I tell you this,” + he added, slightly flushing as Mrs. Tucker turned impatiently away, “only + to show you that legally he has no rights, and you need not see him unless + you choose. I could not stop his coming without perhaps doing you more + harm than good; but when he does come, my presence under this roof as your + legal counsel will enable you to refer him to me.” He stopped. She was + pacing the corridor with short, impatient steps, her arms dropped, and her + hands clasped rigidly before her. “Have I your permission to stay?” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly stopped in her walk, approached him rapidly, and fixing her + eyes on his, said,— + </p> + <p> + “Do I know ALL, now—everything?” + </p> + <p> + He could only reply that she had not yet told him what she had heard. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said scornfully, “that my husband has been cruelly imposed + upon—imposed upon by some wretched woman, who has made him sacrifice + his property, his friends, his honor—everything but me?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything but whom?” gasped Poindexter. + </p> + <p> + “But ME!” + </p> + <p> + Poindexter gazed at the sky, the air, the deserted corridor, the stones of + the patio itself, and then at the inexplicable woman before him. Then he + said gravely, “I think you know everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Then if my husband has left me all he could—this property,” she + went on rapidly, twisting her handkerchief between her fingers, “I can do + with it what I like, can't I?” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly can.” + </p> + <p> + “Then sell it,” she said, with passionate vehemence. “Sell it—all! + everything! And sell these.” She darted into her bedroom, and returned + with the diamond rings she had torn from her fingers and ears when she + entered the house. “Sell them for anything they'll bring, only sell them + at once.” + </p> + <p> + “But for what?” asked Poindexter, with demure lips but twinkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + “To pay the debts that this—this—woman has led him into; to + return the money she has stolen!” she went on rapidly, “to keep him from + sharing her infamy! Can't you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear madam,” began Poindexter, “even if this could be done—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell me 'if it could'—it MUST be done. Do you think I could + sleep under this roof, propped up by the timbers of that ruined tienda? Do + you think I could wear those diamonds again, while that termagant + shop-woman can say that her money bought them? No. If you are my husband's + friend you will do this—for—for his sake.” She stopped, locked + and interlocked her cold fingers before her, and said, hesitating and + mechanically, “You meant well, Captain Poindexter, in bringing me here, I + know! You must not think that I blame you for it, or for the miserable + result of it that you have just witnessed. But if I have gained anything + by it, for God's sake let me reap it quickly, that I may give it to these + people and go! I have a friend who can aid me to get to my husband or to + my home in Kentucky, where Spencer will yet find me, I know. I want + nothing more.” She stopped again. With another woman the pause would have + been one of tears. But she kept her head above the flood that filled her + heart, and the clear eyes fixed upon Poindexter, albeit pained, were + undimmed. + </p> + <p> + “But this would require time,” said Poindexter, with a smile of + compassionate explanation; “you could not sell now, nobody would buy. You + are safe to hold this property while you are in actual possession, but you + are not strong enough to guarantee it to another. There may still be + litigation; your husband has other creditors than these people you have + talked with. But while nobody could oust you—the wife who would have + the sympathies of judge and jury—it might be a different case with + any one who derived title from you. Any purchaser would know that you + could not sell, or if you did, it would be at a ridiculous sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + She listened to him abstractedly, walked to the end of the corridor, + returned, and without looking up, said,— + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you know her?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon?” + </p> + <p> + “This woman. You have seen her?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, to my knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are his friend! That's strange.” She raised her eyes to his. + “Well,” she continued impatiently, “who is she? and what is she? You know + that surely?” + </p> + <p> + “I know no more of her than what I have said,” said Poindexter. “She is a + notorious woman.” + </p> + <p> + The swift color came to Mrs. Tucker's face as if the epithet had been + applied to herself. “I suppose,” she said in a dry voice, as if she were + asking a business question, but with an eye that showed her rising anger,—“I + suppose there is some law by which creatures of this kind can be followed + and brought to justice—some law that would keep innocent people from + suffering for their crimes?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” said Poindexter, “that arresting her would hardly help + these people over in the tienda.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not speaking of them,” responded Mrs. Tucker, with a sudden sublime + contempt for the people whose cause she had espoused: “I am talking of my + husband.” + </p> + <p> + Poindexter bit his lip. “You'd hardly think of bringing back the strongest + witness against him,” he said bluntly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker dropped her eyes and was silent. A sudden shame suffused + Poindexter's cheek; he felt as if he had struck that woman a blow. “I beg + your pardon,” he said hastily, “I am talking like a lawyer to a lawyer.” + He would have taken any other woman by the hand in the honest fullness of + his apology, but something restrained him here. He only looked down gently + on her lowered lashes, and repeated his question if he should remain + during the coming interview with Don Jose: “I must beg you to determine + quickly,” he added, “for I already hear him entering the gate.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay,” said Mrs. Tucker, as the ringing of spurs and clatter of hoofs + came from the corral. “One moment.” She looked up suddenly, and said, “How + long had he known her?” But before he could reply there was a step in the + doorway, and the figure of Don Jose Santierra emerged from the archway. + </p> + <p> + He was a man slightly past middle age, fair and well shaven, wearing a + black broadcloth serape, the deeply embroidered opening of which formed a + collar of silver rays around his neck, while a row of silver buttons down + the side seams of his riding trousers, and silver spurs, completed his + singular equipment. Mrs. Tucker's swift feminine glance took in these + details, as well as the deep salutation, more formal than the exuberant + frontier politeness she was accustomed to, with which he greeted her. It + was enough to arrest her first impulse to retreat. She hesitated and + stopped as Poindexter stepped forward, partly interposing between them, + acknowledging Don Jose's distant recognition of himself with an ironical + accession of his usual humorous tolerance. The Spaniard did not seem to + notice it, but remained gravely silent before Mrs. Tucker, gazing at her + with an expression of intent and unconscious absorption. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right, Don Jose,” said Poindexter, with ironical concern, + “it is Mrs. Tucker. Your eyes do NOT deceive you. She will be glad to do + the honors of her house,” he continued, with a simulation of appealing to + her, “unless you visit her on business, when I need not say I shall be + only too happy, to attend you, as before.” + </p> + <p> + Don Jose, with a slight lifting of the eyebrows, allowed himself to become + conscious of the lawyer's meaning. “It is not of business that I come to + kiss the Senora's hand to-day,” he replied, with a melancholy softness; + “it is as her neighbor, to put myself at her disposition. Ah! the what + have we here for a lady?” he continued, raising his eyes in deprecation of + the surroundings; “a house of nothing, a place of winds and dry bones, + without refreshments, or satisfaction, or delicacy. The Senora will not + refuse to make us proud this day to send her of that which we have in our + poor home at Los Gatos, to make her more complete. Of what shall it be? + Let her make choice. Or if she would commemorate this day by accepting of + our hospitality at Los Gatos, until she shall arrange herself the more to + receive us here, we shall have too much honor.” + </p> + <p> + “The Senora would only find it the more difficult to return to this humble + roof again, after once leaving it for Don Jose's hospitality,” said + Poindexter, with a demure glance at Mrs. Tucker. But the innuendo seemed + to lapse equally unheeded by his fair client and the stranger. Raising her + eyes with a certain timid dignity which Don Jose's presence seemed to have + called out, she addressed herself to him. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind and considerate, Mister Santierra, and I thank you. I + know that my husband”—she let the clear beauty of her translucent + eyes rest full on both men—“would thank you too. But I shall not be + here long enough to accept your kindness in this house or in your own. I + have but one desire and object now. It is to dispose of this property, and + indeed all I possess, to pay the debt of my husband. It is in your power, + perhaps, to help me. I am told that you wish to possess Los Cuervos,” she + went on, equally oblivious of the consciousness that appeared in Don + Jose's face, and a humorous perplexity on the brow of Poindexter. “If you + can arrange it with Mr. Poindexter, you will find me a liberal vendor. + That much you can do, and I know you will believe I shall be grateful. You + can do no more, unless it be to say to your friends that Mrs. Belle Tucker + remains here only for that purpose, and to carry out what she knows to be + the wishes of her husband.” She paused, bent her pretty crest, dropped a + quaint curtsey to the superior age, the silver braid, and the gentlemanly + bearing of Don Jose, and with the passing sunshine of a smile disappeared + from the corridor. + </p> + <p> + The two men remained silent for a moment, Don Jose gazing abstractedly on + the door through which she had vanished, until Poindexter, with a return + of his tolerant smile, said, “You have heard the views of Mrs. Tucker. You + know the situation as well as she does.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes; possibly better.” + </p> + <p> + Poindexter darted a quick glance at the grave, sallow face of Don Jose, + but detecting no unusual significance in his manner, continued, “As you + see, she leaves this matter in my hands. Let us talk like business men. + Have you any idea of purchasing this property?” + </p> + <p> + “Of purchasing, ah, no.” + </p> + <p> + Poindexter bent his brows, but quickly relaxed them with a smile of + humorous forgiveness. “If you have any other idea, Don Jose, I ought to + warn you, as Mrs. Tucker's lawyer, that she is in legal possession here, + and that nothing but her own act can change that position.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, so.” + </p> + <p> + Irritated at the shrug which accompanied this, Poindexter continued + haughtily, “If I am to understand, you have nothing to say—” + </p> + <p> + “To say, ah, yes, possibly. But”—he glanced toward the door of Mrs. + Tucker's room—“not here.” He stopped, appeared to recall himself, + and with an apologetic smile and a studied but graceful gesture of + invitation, he motioned to the gateway, and said, “Will you ride?” + </p> + <p> + “What can the fellow be up to?” muttered Poindexter, as with an assenting + nod he proceeded to remount his horse. “If he wasn't an old hidalgo, I'd + mistrust him. No matter! here goes!” + </p> + <p> + The Don also remounted his half-broken mustang; they proceeded in solemn + silence through the corral, and side by side emerged on the open plain. + Poindexter glanced around; no other being was in sight. It was not until + the lonely hacienda had also sunk behind them that Don Jose broke the + silence. + </p> + <p> + “You say just now we shall speak as business men. I say no, Don Marco; I + will not. I shall speak, we shall speak, as gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Poindexter, who was beginning to be amused. + </p> + <p> + “I say just now I will not purchase the rancho from the Senora. And why? + Look you, Don Marco;” he reined in his horse, thrust his hand under his + serape, and drew out a folded document: “this is why.” + </p> + <p> + With a smile, Poindexter took the paper from his hand and opened it. But + the smile faded from his lips as he read. With blazing eyes he spurred his + horse beside the Spaniard, almost unseating him, and said sternly, “What + does this mean?” + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” repeated Don Jose, with equally flashing eyes, “I'll + tell you. It means that your client, this man Spencer Tucker, is a Judas, + a traitor! It means that he gave Los Cuervos to his mistress a year ago, + and that she sold it to me—to me, you hear!—ME, Jose + Santierra, the day before she left! It means that the coyote of a Spencer, + the thief, who bought these lands of a thief, and gave them to a thief, + has tricked you all. Look,” he said, rising in his saddle, holding the + paper like a baton, and defining with a sweep of his arm the whole level + plain, “all these lands were once mine, they are mine again to-day. Do I + want to purchase Los Cuervos? you ask, for you will speak of the BUSINESS. + Well, listen. I HAVE purchased Los Cuervos, and here is the deed.” + </p> + <p> + “But it has never been recorded,” said Poindexter, with a carelessness he + was far from feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Of a verity, no. Do you wish that I should record it?” asked Don Jose, + with a return of his simple gravity. + </p> + <p> + Poindexter bit his lip. “You said we were to talk like gentlemen,” he + returned. “Do you think you have come into possession of this alleged deed + like a gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + Don Jose shrugged his shoulders. “I found it tossed in the lap of a + harlot. I bought it for a song. Eh, what would you?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you sell it again for a song?” asked Poindexter. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! what is this?” said Don Jose, lifting his iron-gray brows; “but a + moment ago we would sell everything, for any money. Now we would buy. Is + it so?” + </p> + <p> + “One moment, Don Jose,” said Poindexter, with a baleful light in his dark + eyes. “Do I understand that you are the ally of Spencer Tucker and his + mistress, that you intend to turn this doubly betrayed wife from the only + roof she has to cover her?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I comprehend not. You heard her say she wished to go. Perhaps it may + please ME to distribute largess to these cattle yonder, I do not say no. + More she does not ask. But YOU, Don Marco, of whom are you advocate? You + abandon your client's mistress for the wife, is it so?” + </p> + <p> + “What I may do you will learn hereafter,” said Poindexter, who had + regained his composure, suddenly reining up his horse. “As our paths seem + likely to diverge, they had better begin now. Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Patience, my friend, patience! Ah, blessed St. Anthony, what these + Americans are! Listen. For what YOU shall do, I do not inquire. The + question is to me what I”—he emphasized the pronoun by tapping + himself on the breast—“I, Jose Santierra, will do. Well, I shall + tell you. To-day, nothing. To-morrow, nothing. For a week, for a month, + nothing! After, we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + Poindexter paused thoughtfully. “Will you give your word, Don Jose, that + you will not press the claim for a month?” + </p> + <p> + “Truly, on one condition. Observe! I do not ask you for an equal promise, + that you will not take this time to defend yourself.” He shrugged his + shoulders. “No! It is only this. You shall promise that during that time + the Senora Tucker shall remain ignorant of this document.” + </p> + <p> + Poindexter hesitated a moment. “I promise,” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “Good. Adios, Don Marco.” + </p> + <p> + “Adios, Don Jose.” + </p> + <p> + The Spaniard put spurs to his mustang and galloped off in the direction of + Los Gatos. The lawyer remained for a moment gazing on his retreating but + victorious figure. For the first time the old look of humorous toleration + with which Mr. Poindexter was in the habit of regarding all human + infirmity gave way to something like bitterness. “I might have guessed + it,” he said, with a slight rise of color. “He's an old fool; and she—well, + perhaps it's all the better for her!” He glanced backwards almost tenderly + in the direction of Los Cuervos, and then turned his head towards the + embarcadero. + </p> + <p> + As the afternoon wore on, a creaking, antiquated ox-cart arrived at Los + Cuervos, bearing several articles of furniture, and some tasteful + ornaments from Los Gatos, at the same time that a young Mexican girl + mysteriously appeared in the kitchen, as a temporary assistant to the + decrepit Concha. These were both clearly attributable to Don Jose, whose + visit was not so remote but that these delicate attentions might have been + already projected before Mrs. Tucker had declined them, and she could not, + without marked discourtesy, return them now. She did not wish to seem + discourteous; she would like to have been more civil to this old + gentleman, who still retained the evidences of a picturesque and decorous + past, and a repose so different from the life that was perplexing her. + Reflecting that if he bought the estate these things would be ready to his + hand, and with a woman's instinct recognizing their value in setting off + the house to other purchasers' eyes, she took a pleasure in tastefully + arranging them, and even found herself speculating how she might have + enjoyed them herself had she been able to keep possession of the property. + After all, it would not have been so lonely if refined and gentle + neighbors, like this old man, would have sympathized with her; she had an + instinctive feeling that, in their own hopeless decay and hereditary + unfitness for this new civilization, they would have been more tolerant of + her husband's failure than his own kind. She could not believe that Don + Jose really hated her husband for buying of the successful claimant, as + there was no other legal title. Allowing herself to become interested in + the guileless gossip of the new handmaiden, proud of her broken English, + she was drawn into a sympathy with the grave simplicity of Don Jose's + character, a relic of that true nobility which placed this descendant of + the Castilians and the daughter of a free people on the same level. + </p> + <p> + In this way the second day of her occupancy of Los Cuervos closed, with + dumb clouds along the gray horizon, and the paroxysms of hysterical wind + growing fainter and fainter outside the walls; with the moon rising after + nightfall, and losing itself in silent and mysterious confidences with + drifting scud. She went to bed early, but woke past midnight, hearing, as + she thought, her own name called. The impression was so strong upon her + that she rose, and, hastily enwrapping herself, went to the dark + embrasures of the oven-shaped windows, and looked out. The dwarfed oak + beside the window was still dropping from a past shower, but the level + waste of marsh and meadow beyond seemed to advance and recede with the + coming and going of the moon. Again she heard her name called, and this + time in accents so strangely familiar that with a slight cry she ran into + the corridor, crossed the patio, and reached the open gate. The darkness + that had, even in this brief interval, again fallen upon the prospect she + tried in vain to pierce with eye and voice. A blank silence followed. Then + the veil was suddenly withdrawn; the vast plain, stretching from the + mountain to the sea, shone as clearly as in the light of day; the moving + current of the channel glittered like black pearls, the stagnant pools + like molten lead; but not a sign of life nor motion broke the monotony of + the broad expanse. She must have surely dreamed it. A chill wind drove her + back to the house again; she entered her bedroom, and in half an hour she + was in a peaceful sleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + The two men kept their secret. Mr. Poindexter convinced Mrs. Tucker that + the sale of Los Cuervos could not be effected until the notoriety of her + husband's flight had been fairly forgotten, and she was forced to accept + her fate. The sale of her diamonds, which seemed to her to have realized a + singularly extravagant sum, enabled her to quietly reinstate the + Pattersons in the tienda and to discharge in full her husband's + liabilities to the rancheros and his humbler retainers. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the winter rains had ceased. It seemed to her as if the clouds + had suddenly one night struck their white tents and stolen away, leaving + the unvanquished sun to mount the vacant sky the next morning alone, and + possess it thenceforward unchallenged. One afternoon she thought the long + sad waste before her window had caught some tint of gayer color from the + sunset; a week later she found it a blazing landscape of poppies, broken + here and there by blue lagoons of lupine, by pools of daisies, by banks of + dog-roses, by broad outlying shores of dandelions that scattered their + lavish gold to the foot of the hills, where the green billows of wild oats + carried it on and upwards to the darker crest of pines. For two months she + was dazzled and bewildered with color. She had never before been face to + face with this spendthrift Californian Flora, in her virgin wastefulness, + her more than goddess-like prodigality. The teeming earth seemed to + quicken and throb beneath her feet; the few circuits of a plough around + the outlying corral were enough to call out a jungle growth of giant grain + that almost hid the low walls of the hacienda. In this glorious fecundity + of the earth, in this joyous renewal of life and color, in this opulent + youth and freshness of soil and sky, it alone remained, the dead and + sterile Past, left in the midst of buoyant rejuvenescence and + resurrection, like an empty churchyard skull upturned on the springing + turf. Its bronzed adobe walls mocked the green vine that embraced them, + the crumbling dust of its courtyard remained ungerminating and unfruitful; + to the thousand stirring voices without, its dry lips alone remained mute, + unresponsive and unchanged. + </p> + <p> + During this time Don Jose had become a frequent visitor at Los Cuervos, + bringing with him at first his niece and sister in a stately precision of + politeness that was not lost on the proud Blue Grass stranger. She + returned their visit at Los Gatos, and there made the formal acquaintance + of Don Jose's grandmother, a lady who still regarded the decrepit Concha + as a giddy muchacha, and who herself glittered as with the phosphorescence + of refined decay. Through this circumstance she learned that Don Jose was + not yet fifty, and that his gravity of manner and sedateness was more the + result of fastidious isolation and temperament than years. She could not + tell why the information gave her a feeling of annoyance, but it caused + her to regret the absence of Poindexter, and to wonder, also somewhat + nervously, why he had lately avoided her presence. The thought that he + might be doing so from a recollection of the innuendoes of Mrs. Patterson + caused a little tremor of indignation in her pulses. “As if—” but + she did not finish the sentence even to herself, and her eyes filled with + bitter tears. + </p> + <p> + Yet she had thought of the husband who had so cruelly wronged her less + feverishly, less impatiently than before. For she thought she loved him + now the more deeply, because, although she was not reconciled to his + absence, it seemed to keep alive the memory of what he had been before his + one wild act separated them. She had never seen the reflection of another + woman's eyes in his; the past contained no haunting recollection of waning + or alienated affection; she could meet him again, and, clasping her arms + around him, awaken as if from a troubled dream without reproach or + explanation. Her strong belief in this made her patient; she no longer + sought to know the particulars of his flight, and never dreamed that her + passive submission to his absence was partly due to a fear that something + in his actual presence at that moment would have destroyed that belief + forever. + </p> + <p> + For this reason the delicate reticence of the people at Los Gatos, and + their seclusion from the world which knew of her husband's fault, had made + her encourage the visits of Don Jose, until from the instinct already + alluded to she one day summoned Poindexter to Los Cuervos, on the day that + Don Jose usually called. But to her surprise the two men met more or less + awkwardly and coldly, and her tact as hostess was tried to the utmost to + keep their evident antagonism from being too apparent. The effort to + reconcile their mutual discontent, and some other feeling she did not + quite understand, produced a nervous excitement which called the blood to + her cheek and gave a dangerous brilliancy to her eyes, two circumstances + not unnoticed nor unappreciated by her two guests. But instead of + reuniting them, the prettier Mrs. Tucker became, the more distant and + reserved grew the men, until Don Jose rose before the usual hour, and with + more than usual ceremoniousness departed. + </p> + <p> + “Then my business does not seem to be with HIM?” said Poindexter, with + quiet coolness, as Mrs. Tucker turned her somewhat mystified face towards + him. “Or have you anything to say to me about him in private?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I don't know what you both mean,” she returned with a slight + tremor of voice. “I had no idea you were not on good terms. I thought you + were! It's very awkward.” Without coquetry and unconsciously she raised + her blue eyes under her lids until the clear pupils coyly and softly hid + themselves in the corners of the brown lashes, and added, “You have both + been so kind to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps that is the reason,” said Poindexter, gravely. But Mrs. Tucker + refused to accept the suggestion with equal gravity, and began to laugh. + The laugh, which was at first frank, spontaneous, and almost child-like, + was becoming hysterical and nervous as she went on, until it was suddenly + checked by Poindexter. + </p> + <p> + “I have had no difficulties with Don Jose Santierra,” he said, somewhat + coldly ignoring her hilarity, “but perhaps he is not inclined to be as + polite to the friend of the husband as he is to the wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Poindexter!” said Mrs. Tucker quickly, her face becoming pale again. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon!” said Poindexter, flushing; “but—” + </p> + <p> + “You want to say,” she interrupted coolly, “that you are not friends, I + see. Is that the reason why you have avoided this house?” she continued + gently. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I could be of more service to you elsewhere,” he replied + evasively. “I have been lately following up a certain clue rather closely. + I think I am on the track of a confidante of—of—that woman.” + </p> + <p> + A quick shadow passed over Mrs. Tucker's face. “Indeed!” she said coldly. + “Then I am to believe that you prefer to spend your leisure moments in + looking after that creature to calling here?” + </p> + <p> + Poindexter was stupefied. Was this the woman who only four months ago was + almost vindictively eager to pursue her husband's paramour! There could be + but one answer to it—Don Jose! Four months ago he would have smiled + compassionately at it from his cynical pre-eminence. Now he managed with + difficulty to stifle the bitterness of his reply. + </p> + <p> + “If you do not wish the inquiry carried on,” he began, “of course—” + </p> + <p> + “I? What does it matter to me?” she said coolly. “Do as you please.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, half an hour later, as he was leaving, she said, with a + certain hesitating timidity, “Do not leave me so much alone here, and let + that woman go.” + </p> + <p> + This was not the only unlooked-for sequel to her innocent desire to + propitiate her best friends. Don Jose did not call again upon his usual + day, but in his place came Dona Clara, his younger sister. When Mrs. + Tucker had politely asked after the absent Don Jose, Dona Clara wound her + swarthy arms around the fair American's waist and replied, “But why did + you send for the abogado Poindexter when my brother called?” + </p> + <p> + “But Captain Poindexter calls as one of my friends,” said the amazed Mrs. + Tucker. “He is a gentleman, and has been a soldier and an officer,” she + added with some warmth. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, a soldier of the law, what you call an oficial de policia, a + chief of gendarmes, my sister, but not a gentleman—a camarero to + protect a lady.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker would have uttered a hasty reply, but the perfect and + good-natured simplicity of Dona Clara withheld her. Nevertheless, she + treated Don Jose with a certain reserve at their next meeting, until it + brought the simple-minded Castilian so dangerously near the point of + demanding an explanation which implied too much that she was obliged to + restore him temporarily to his old footing. Meantime she had a brilliant + idea. She would write to Calhoun Weaver, whom she had avoided since that + memorable day. She would say she wished to consult him. He would come to + Los Cuervos; he might suggest something to lighten this weary waiting; at + least she would show them all that she had still old friends. Yet she did + not dream of returning to her Blue Grass home; her parents had died since + she left; she shrank from the thought of dragging her ruined life before + the hopeful youth of her girlhood's companions. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Calhoun Weaver arrived promptly, ostentatiously, oracularly, and + cordially, but a little coarsely. He had—did she remember?—expected + this from the first. Spencer had lost his head through vanity, and had + attempted too much. It required foresight and firmness, as he himself—who + had lately made successful “combinations” which she might perhaps have + heard of—well knew. But Spencer had got the “big head.” “As to that + woman—a devilish handsome woman too!—well, everybody knew that + Spencer always had a weakness that way, and he would say—but if she + didn't care to hear any more about her—well, perhaps she was right. + That was the best way to take it.” Sitting before her, prosperous, weak, + egotistical, incompetent, unavailable, and yet filled with a vague + kindliness of intent, Mrs. Tucker loathed him. A sickening perception of + her own weakness in sending for him, a new and aching sense of her utter + isolation and helplessness, seemed to paralyze her. + </p> + <p> + “Nat'rally you feel bad,” he continued, with the large air of a profound + student of human nature. “Nat'rally, nat'rally you're kept in an + uncomfortable state, not knowing jist how you stand. There ain't but one + thing to do. Jist rise up, quiet like, and get a divorce agin Spencer. + Hold on! There ain't a judge or jury in California that wouldn't give it + to you right off the nail, without asking questions. Why, you 'ld get it + by default if you wanted to; you 'ld just have to walk over the course! + And then, Belle,” he drew his chair still nearer her, “when you've settled + down again—well!—I don't mind renewing that offer I once made + ye, before Spencer ever came round ye—I don't mind, Belle, I swear I + don't! Honest Injin! I'm in earnest, there's my hand!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tucker's reply has not been recorded. Enough that half an hour later + Mr. Weaver appeared in the courtyard with traces of tears on his foolish + face, a broken falsetto voice, and other evidence of mental and moral + disturbance. His cordiality and oracular predisposition remained + sufficiently to enable him to suggest the magical words “Blue Grass” + mysteriously to Concha, with an indication of his hand to the erect figure + of her pale mistress in the doorway, who waved to him a silent but + half-compassionate farewell. + </p> + <p> + At about this time a slight change in her manner was noticed by the few + who saw her more frequently. Her apparently invincible girlishness of + spirit had given way to a certain matronly seriousness. She applied + herself to her household cares and the improvement of the hacienda with a + new sense of duty and a settled earnestness, until by degrees she wrought + into it not only her instinctive delicacy and taste, but part of her own + individuality. Even the rude rancheros and tradesmen who were permitted to + enter the walls in the exercise of their calling began to speak + mysteriously of the beauty of this garden of the almarjal. She went out + but seldom, and then accompanied by the one or the other of her female + servants, in long drives on unfrequented roads. On Sundays she sometimes + drove to the half-ruined mission church of Santa Inez, and hid herself, + during mass, in the dim monastic shadows of the choir. Gradually the + poorer people whom she met in these journeys began to show an almost + devotional reverence for her, stopping in the roads with uncovered heads + for her to pass, or making way for her in the tienda or plaza of the + wretched town with dumb courtesy. She began to feel a strange sense of + widowhood, that, while it at times brought tears to her eyes, was, not + without a certain tender solace. In the sympathy and simpleness of this + impulse she went as far as to revive the mourning she had worn for her + parents, but with such a fatal accenting of her beauty, and dangerous + misinterpreting of her condition to eligible bachelors strange to the + country, that she was obliged to put it off again. Her reserve and + dignified manner caused others to mistake her nationality for that of the + Santierras, and in “Dona Bella” the simple Mrs. Tucker was for a while + forgotten. At times she even forgot it herself. Accustomed now almost + entirely to the accents of another language and the features of another + race, she would sit for hours in the corridor, whose massive bronzed + inclosure even her tasteful care could only make an embowered mausoleum of + the Past, or gaze abstractedly from the dark embrasures of her windows + across the stretching almarjal to the shining lagoon beyond that + terminated the estuary. She had a strange fondness for this tranquil + mirror, which under sun or stars always retained the passive reflex of the + sky above, and seemed to rest her weary eyes. She had objected to one of + the plans projected by Poindexter to redeem the land and deepen the water + at the embarcadero, as it would have drained the lagoon, and the lawyer + had postponed the improvement to gratify her fancy. So she kept it through + the long summer unchanged save by the shadows of passing wings or the lazy + files of sleeping sea-fowl. + </p> + <p> + On one of these afternoons she noticed a slowly moving carriage leave the + high road and cross the almarjal skirting the edge of the lagoon. If it + contained visitors for Los Cuervos they had evidently taken a shorter cut + without waiting to go on to the regular road which intersected the highway + at right angles a mile farther on. It was with some sense of annoyance and + irritation that she watched the trespass, and finally saw the vehicle + approach the house. A few moments later the servant informed her that Mr. + Patterson would like to see her alone. When she entered the corridor, + which in the dry season served as a reception hall, she was surprised to + see that Patterson was not alone. Near him stood a well-dressed handsome + woman, gazing about her with good-humored admiration of Mrs. Tucker's + taste and ingenuity. + </p> + <p> + “It don't look much like it did two years ago,” said the stranger + cheerfully. “You've improved it wonderfully.” + </p> + <p> + Stiffening slightly, Mrs. Tucker turned inquiringly to Mr. Patterson. But + that gentleman's usual profound melancholy appeared to be intensified by + the hilarity of his companion. He only sighed deeply and rubbed his leg + with the brim of his hat in gloomy abstraction. + </p> + <p> + “Well! go on, then,” said the woman, laughing and nudging him. “Go on—introduce + me—can't you? Don't stand there like a tombstone. You won't? Well, + I'll introduce myself.” She laughed again, and then, with an excellent + imitation of Patterson's lugubrious accents, said, “Mr. Spencer Tucker's + wife that IS, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Spencer Tucker's sweetheart + that WAS! Hold on! I said THAT WAS. For true as I stand here, ma'am—and + I reckon I wouldn't stand here if it wasn't true—I haven't set eyes + on him since the day he left you.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the Gospel truth, every word,” said Patterson, stirred into a sudden + activity by Mrs. Tucker's white and rigid face. “It's the frozen truth, + and I kin prove it. For I kin swear that when that there young woman was + sailin' outer the Golden Gate, Spencer Tucker was in my bar room; I kin + swear that I fed him, lickered him, give him a hoss and set him in his + road to Monterey that very night.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, where is he now?” said Mrs. Tucker, suddenly facing them. + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other, and then looked at Mrs. Tucker. Then both + together replied slowly and in perfect unison, “That's—what—we—want—to—know.” + They seemed so satisfied with this effect that they as deliberately + repeated, “Yes—that's—what—we—want—to—know.” + </p> + <p> + Between the shock of meeting the partner of her husband's guilt and the + unexpected revelation to her inexperience, that in suggestion and + appearance there was nothing beyond the recollection of that guilt that + was really shocking in the woman—between the extravagant extremes of + hope and fear suggested by their words, there was something so grotesquely + absurd in the melodramatic chorus that she with difficulty suppressed a + hysterical laugh. + </p> + <p> + “That's the way to take it,” said the woman, putting her own good-humored + interpretation upon Mrs. Tucker's expression. “Now, look here! I'll tell + you all about it.” She carefully selected the most comfortable chair, and + sitting down, lightly crossed her hands in her lap. “Well, I left here on + the 13th of last January on the ship Argo, calculating that your husband + would join the ship just inside the Heads. That was our arrangement, but + if anything happened to prevent him, he was to join me in Acapulco. Well! + He didn't come aboard, and we sailed without him. But it appears now he + did attempt to join the ship, but his boat was capsized. There, now, don't + be alarmed! he wasn't drowned, as Patterson can swear to—no, catch + HIM! not a hair of him was hurt; but I—I was bundled off to the end + of the earth in Mexico, alone, without a cent to bless me. For true as you + live, that hound of a captain, when he found, as he thought, that Spencer + was nabbed, he just confiscated all his trunks and valuables and left me + in the lurch. If I hadn't met a man down there that offered to marry me + and brought me here, I might have died there, I reckon. But I did, and + here I am. I went down there as your husband's sweetheart, I've come back + as the wife of an honest man, and I reckon it's about square!” + </p> + <p> + There was something so startlingly frank, so hopelessly self-satisfied, so + contagiously good-humored in the woman's perfect moral unconsciousness, + that even if Mrs. Tucker had been less preoccupied her resentment would + have abated. But her eyes were fixed on the gloomy face of Patterson, who + was beginning to unlock the sepulchres of his memory and disinter his + deeply buried thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “You kin bet your whole pile on what this Mrs. Capting Baxter—ez + used to be French Inez of New Orleans—hez told ye. Ye kin take + everything she's unloaded. And it's only doin' the square thing to her to + say, she hain't done it out o' no cussedness, but just to satisfy herself, + now she's a married woman and past such foolishness. But that ain't + neither here nor there. The gist of the whole matter is that Spencer + Tucker was at the tienda the day after she sailed and after his boat + capsized.” He then gave a detailed account of the interview, with the + unnecessary but truthful minutiae of his class, adding to the particulars + already known that the following week he visited the Summit House and was + surprised to find that Spencer had never been there, nor had he ever + sailed from Monterey. + </p> + <p> + “But why was this not told to me before?” said Mrs. Tucker, suddenly. “Why + not at the time? Why,” she demanded almost fiercely, turning from the one + to the other, “has this been kept from me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell ye why,” said Patterson, sinking with crushed submission into a + chair. “When I found he wasn't where he ought to be, I got to lookin' + elsewhere. I knew the track of the hoss I lent him by a loose shoe. I + examined; and found he had turned off the high road somewhere beyond the + lagoon, jist as if he was makin' a bee line here.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mrs. Tucker, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Patterson, with the resigned tone of an accustomed martyr, + “mebbe I'm a God-forsaken idiot, but I reckon he DID come yer. And mebbe + I'm that much of a habitooal lunatic, but thinking so, I calkilated you'ld + know it without tellin'.” + </p> + <p> + With their eyes fixed upon her, Mrs. Tucker felt the quick blood rush to + her cheeks, although she knew not why. But they were apparently satisfied + with her ignorance, for Patterson resumed, yet more gloomily:— + </p> + <p> + “Then if he wasn't hidin' here beknownst to you, he must have changed his + mind agin and got away by the embarcadero. The only thing wantin' to prove + that idea is to know how he got a boat, and what he did with the hoss. And + thar's one more idea, and ez that can't be proved,” continued Patterson, + sinking his voice still lower, “mebbe it's accordin' to God's laws.” + </p> + <p> + Unsympathetic to her as the speaker had always been and still was, Mrs. + Tucker felt a vague chill creep over her that seemed to be the result of + his manner more than his words. “And that idea is . . . ?” she suggested + with pale lips. + </p> + <p> + “It's this! Fust, I don't say it means much to anybody but me. I've heard + of these warnings afore now, ez comin' only to folks ez hear them for + themselves alone, and I reckon I kin stand it, if it's the will o' God. + The idea is then—that—Spencer Tucker—WAS DROWNDED in + that boat; the idea is”—his voice was almost lost in a hoarse + whisper—“that it was no living man that kem to me that night, but a + spirit that kem out of the darkness and went back into it! No eye saw him + but mine—no ears heard him but mine. I reckon it weren't intended it + should.” He paused, and passed the flap of his hat across his eyes. “The + pie, you'll say, is agin it,” he continued in the same tone of voice,—“the + whiskey is agin it—a few cuss words that dropped from him, + accidental like, may have been agin it. All the same they mout have been + only the little signs and tokens that it was him.” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Baxter's ready laugh somewhat rudely dispelled the infection of + Patterson's gloom. “I reckon the only spirit was that which you and + Spencer consumed,” she said, cheerfully. “I don't wonder you're a little + mixed. Like as not you've misunderstood his plans.” Patterson shook his + head. “He'll turn up yet, alive and kicking! Like as not, then, Poindexter + knows where he is all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible! He would have told me,” said Mrs. Tucker, quickly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Baxter looked at Patterson without speaking. Patterson replied by a + long lugubrious whistle. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you,” said Mrs. Tucker, drawing back with cold + dignity. + </p> + <p> + “You don't?” returned Mrs. Baxter. “Bless your innocent heart! Why was he + so keen to hunt me up at first, shadowing my friends and all that, and why + has he dropped it now he knows I'm here, if he didn't know where Spencer + was?” + </p> + <p> + “I can explain that,” interrupted Mrs. Tucker, hastily, with a blush of + confusion. “That is—I—” + </p> + <p> + “Then mebbe you kin explain too,” broke in Patterson with gloomy + significance, “why he has bought up most of Spencer's debts himself, and + perhaps you're satisfied it ISN'T to hold the whip hand of him and keep + him from coming back openly. Pr'aps you know why he's movin' heaven and + earth to make Don Jose Santierra sell the ranch, and why the Don don't see + it all.” + </p> + <p> + “Don Jose sell Los Cuervos! Buy it, you mean?” said Mrs. Tucker. “I + offered to sell it to him.” + </p> + <p> + Patterson arose from the chair, looked despairingly around him, passed his + hand sadly across his forehead, and said: “It's come! I knew it would. + It's the warning! It's suthing betwixt jim-jams and doddering idjiocy. + Here I'd hev been willin' to swear that Mrs. Baxter here told me SHE had + sold this yer ranch nearly two years ago to Don Jose, and now you—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” said Mrs. Tucker, in a voice that chilled them. + </p> + <p> + She was standing upright and rigid, as if stricken to stone. “I command + you to tell me what this means!” she said, turning only her blazing eyes + upon the woman. + </p> + <p> + Even the ready smile faded from Mrs. Baxter's lips as she replied + hesitatingly and submissively: “I thought you knew already that Spencer + had given this ranch to me. I sold it to Don Jose to get the money for us + to go away with. It was Spencer's idea—” + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” said Mrs. Tucker. + </p> + <p> + There was a dead silence. The wrathful blood that had quickly mounted to + Mrs. Baxter's cheek, to Patterson's additional bewilderment, faded as + quickly. She did not lift her eyes again to Mrs. Tucker's, but, slowly + raising herself from her seat, said, “I wish to God I did lie; but it's + true. And it's true that I never touched a cent of the money, but gave it + all to him!” She laid her hand on Patterson's arm, and said, “Come! let us + go,” and led him a few steps towards the gateway. But here Patterson + paused, and again passed his hand over his melancholy brow. The necessity + of coherently and logically closing the conversation impressed itself upon + his darkening mind. “Then you don't happen to have heard anything of + Spencer?” he said sadly, and vanished with Mrs. Baxter through the gate. + </p> + <p> + Left alone to herself, Mrs. Tucker raised her hands above her head with a + little cry, interlocked her rigid fingers, and slowly brought her palms + down upon her upturned face and eyes, pressing hard as if to crush out all + light and sense of life before her. She stood thus for a moment motionless + and silent, with the rising wind whispering without and flecking her white + morning dress with gusty shadows from the arbor. Then, with closed eyes, + dropping her hands to her breast, still pressing hard, she slowly passed + them down the shapely contours of her figure to the waist, and with + another cry cast them off as if she were stripping herself of some + loathsome garment. Then she walked quickly to the gateway, looked out, + returned to the corridor, unloosening and taking off her wedding-ring from + her finger as she walked. Here she paused, then slowly and deliberately + rearranged the chairs and adjusted the gay-colored rugs that draped them, + and quietly re-entered her chamber. + </p> + <p> + Two days afterwards the sweating steed of Captain Poindexter was turned + loose in the corral, and a moment later the captain entered the corridor. + Handing a letter to the decrepit Concha, who seemed to be utterly + disorganized by its contents, and the few curt words with which it was + delivered, he gazed silently upon the vacant bower, still fresh and + redolent with the delicacy and perfume of its graceful occupant, until his + dark eyes filled with unaccustomed moisture. But his reverie was + interrupted by the sound of jingling spurs without, and the old humor + struggled back in his eyes as Don Jose impetuously entered. The Spaniard + started back, but instantly recovered himself. + </p> + <p> + “So I find you here. Ah! it is well!” he said passionately, producing a + letter from his bosom. “Look! Do you call this honor? Look how you keep + your compact!” + </p> + <p> + Poindexter coolly took the letter. It contained a few words of gentle + dignity from Mrs. Tucker, informing Don Jose that she had only that + instant learned of his just claims upon Los Cuervos, tendering him her + gratitude for his delicate intentions, but pointing out with respectful + firmness that he must know that a moment's further acceptance of his + courtesy was impossible. + </p> + <p> + “She has gained this knowledge from no word of mine,” said Poindexter, + calmly. “Right or wrong, I have kept my promise to you. I have as much + reason to accuse you of betraying my secret in this,” he added coldly, as + he took another letter from his pocket and handed it to Don Jose. + </p> + <p> + It seemed briefer and colder, but was neither. It reminded Poindexter that + as he had again deceived her she must take the government of her affairs + in her own hands henceforth. She abandoned all the furniture and + improvements she had put in Los Cuervos to him, to whom she now knew she + was indebted for them. She could not thank him for what his habitual + generosity impelled him to do for any woman, but she could forgive him for + misunderstanding her like any other woman, perhaps she should say, like a + child. When he received this she would be already on her way to her old + home in Kentucky, where she still hoped to be able by her own efforts to + amass enough to discharge her obligations to him. + </p> + <p> + “She does not speak of her husband, this woman,” said Don Jose, scanning + Poindexter's face. “It is possible she rejoins him, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps in one way she has never left him, Don Jose,” said Poindexter, + with grave significance. + </p> + <p> + Don Jose's face flushed, but he returned carelessly, “And the rancho, + naturally you will not buy it now?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I shall abide by my offer,” said Poindexter, quietly. + </p> + <p> + Don Jose eyed him narrowly, and then said, “Ah, we shall consider of it.” + </p> + <p> + He did consider it, and accepted the offer. With the full control of the + land, Captain Poindexter's improvements, so indefinitely postponed, were + actively pushed forward. The thick walls of the hacienda were the first to + melt away before them; the low lines of corral were effaced, and the early + breath of the summer trade winds swept uninterruptedly across the now + leveled plain to the embarcadero, where a newer structure arose. A more + vivid green alone marked the spot where the crumbling adobe walls of the + casa had returned to the parent soil that gave it. The channel was + deepened, the lagoon was drained, until one evening the magic mirror that + had so long reflected the weary waiting of the Blue Grass Penelope lay + dull, dead, lustreless, an opaque quagmire of noisome corruption and decay + to be put away from the sight of man forever. On this spot the crows, the + titular tenants of Los Cuervos, assembled in tumultuous congress, coming + and going in mysterious clouds, or laboring in thick and writhing masses, + as if they were continuing the work of improvement begun by human agency. + So well had they done the work that by the end of a week only a few + scattered white objects remained glittering on the surface of the quickly + drying soil. But they were the bones of the missing outcast, Spencer + Tucker! + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The same spring a breath of war swept over a foul, decaying quagmire of + the whole land, before which such passing deeds as these were blown as + vapor. It called men of all rank and condition to battle for a nation's + life, and among the first to respond were those into whose boyish hands + had been placed the nation's honor. It returned the epaulets to + Poindexter's shoulder with the addition of a double star, carried him + triumphantly to the front, and left him, at the end of a summer's day and + a hard-won fight, sorely wounded, at the door of a Blue Grass farmhouse. + And the woman who sought him out and ministered to his wants said timidly, + as she left her hand in his, “I told you I should live to repay you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + There was little doubt that the Lone Star claim was “played out.” Not dug + out, worked out, washed out, but PLAYED out. For two years its five + sanguine proprietors had gone through the various stages of mining + enthusiasm; had prospected and planned, dug and doubted. They had borrowed + money with hearty but unredeeming frankness, established a credit with + unselfish abnegation of all responsibility, and had borne the + disappointment of their creditors with a cheerful resignation which only + the consciousness of some deep Compensating Future could give. Giving + little else, however, a singular dissatisfaction obtained with the + traders, and, being accompanied with a reluctance to make further + advances, at last touched the gentle stoicism of the proprietors + themselves. The youthful enthusiasm which had at first lifted the most + ineffectual trial, the most useless essay, to the plane of actual + achievement, died out, leaving them only the dull, prosaic record of + half-finished ditches, purposeless shafts, untenable pits, abandoned + engines, and meaningless disruptions of the soil upon the Lone Star claim, + and empty flour sacks and pork barrels in the Lone Star cabin. + </p> + <p> + They had borne their poverty, if that term could be applied to a light + renunciation of all superfluities in food, dress, or ornament, ameliorated + by the gentle depredations already alluded to, with unassuming levity. + More than that: having segregated themselves from their fellow-miners of + Red Gulch, and entered upon the possession of the little + manzanita-thicketed valley five miles away, the failure of their + enterprise had assumed in their eyes only the vague significance of the + decline and fall of a general community, and to that extent relieved them + of individual responsibility. It was easier for them to admit that the + Lone Star claim was “played out” than confess to a personal bankruptcy. + Moreover, they still retained the sacred right of criticism of government, + and rose superior in their private opinions to their own collective + wisdom. Each one experienced a grateful sense of the entire responsibility + of the other four in the fate of their enterprise. + </p> + <p> + On December 24, 1863, a gentle rain was still falling over the length and + breadth of the Lone Star claim. It had been falling for several days, had + already called a faint spring color to the wan landscape, repairing with + tender touches the ravages wrought by the proprietors, or charitably + covering their faults. The ragged seams in gulch and canyon lost their + harsh outlines, a thin green mantle faintly clothed the torn and abraded + hillside. A few weeks more, and a veil of forgetfulness would be drawn + over the feeble failures of the Lone Star claim. The charming derelicts + themselves, listening to the raindrops on the roof of their little cabin, + gazed philosophically from the open door, and accepted the prospect as a + moral discharge from their obligations. Four of the five partners were + present. The Right and Left Bowers, Union Mills, and the Judge. + </p> + <p> + It is scarcely necessary to say that not one of these titles was the + genuine name of its possessor. The Right and Left Bowers were two + brothers; their sobriquets, a cheerful adaptation from the favorite game + of euchre, expressing their relative value in the camp. The mere fact that + Union Mills had at one time patched his trousers with an old flour sack + legibly bearing that brand of its fabrication, was a tempting baptismal + suggestion that the other partners could not forego. The Judge, a + singularly inequitable Missourian, with no knowledge whatever of the law, + was an inspiration of gratuitous irony. + </p> + <p> + Union Mills, who had been for some time sitting placidly on the threshold + with one leg exposed to the rain, from a sheer indolent inability to + change his position, finally withdrew that weather-beaten member, and + stood up. The movement more or less deranged the attitudes of the other + partners, and was received with cynical disfavor. It was somewhat + remarkable that, although generally giving the appearance of healthy youth + and perfect physical condition, they one and all simulated the decrepitude + of age and invalidism, and after limping about for a few moments, settled + back again upon their bunks and stools in their former positions. The Left + Bower lazily replaced a bandage that he had worn around his ankle for + weeks without any apparent necessity, and the Judge scrutinized with + tender solicitude the faded cicatrix of a scratch upon his arm. A passive + hypochondria, born of their isolation, was the last ludicrously pathetic + touch to their situation. + </p> + <p> + The immediate cause of this commotion felt the necessity of an + explanation. + </p> + <p> + “It would have been just as easy for you to have stayed outside with your + business leg, instead of dragging it into private life in that obtrusive + way,” retorted the Right Bower; “but that exhaustive effort isn't going to + fill the pork barrel. The grocery man at Dalton says—what's that he + said?” he appealed lazily to the Judge. + </p> + <p> + “Said he reckoned the Lone Star was about played out, and he didn't want + any more in his—thank you!” repeated the Judge with a mechanical + effort of memory utterly devoid of personal or present interest. + </p> + <p> + “I always suspected that man, after Grimshaw begun to deal with him,” said + the Left Bower. “They're just mean enough to join hands against us.” It + was a fixed belief of the Lone Star partners that they were pursued by + personal enmities. + </p> + <p> + “More than likely those new strangers over in the Fork have been paying + cash and filled him up with conceit,” said Union Mills, trying to dry his + leg by alternately beating it or rubbing it against the cabin wall. “Once + begin wrong with that kind of snipe and you drag everybody down with you.” + </p> + <p> + This vague conclusion was received with dead silence. Everybody had become + interested in the speaker's peculiar method of drying his leg, to the + exclusion of the previous topic. A few offered criticism, no one + assistance. + </p> + <p> + “Who did the grocery man say that to?” asked the Right Bower, finally + returning to the question. + </p> + <p> + “The Old man,” answered the Judge. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” ejaculated the Right Bower sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” echoed the other partners together. “That's like him. The Old + Man all over!” + </p> + <p> + It did not appear exactly what was like the Old Man, or why it was like + him, but generally that he alone was responsible for the grocery man's + defection. It was put more concisely by Union Mills. + </p> + <p> + “That comes of letting him go there! It's just a fair provocation to any + man to have the Old Man sent to him. They can't, sorter, restrain + themselves at him. He's enough to spoil the credit of the Rothschilds.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” chimed in the Judge. “And look at his prospecting. Why, he + was out two nights last week, all night, prospecting in the moonlight for + blind leads, just out of sheer foolishness.” + </p> + <p> + “It was quite enough for me,” broke in the Left Bower, “when the other + day, you remember when, he proposed to us white men to settle down to + plain ground sluicing, making 'grub' wages just like any Chinaman. It just + showed his idea of the Lone Star claim.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never said it afore,” added Union Mills, “but when that one of + the Mattison boys came over here to examine the claim with an eye to + purchasin', it was the Old Man that took the conceit out of him. He just + as good as admitted that a lot of work had got to be done afore any pay + ore could be realized. Never even asked him over to the shanty here to + jine us in a friendly game; just kept him, so to speak, to himself. And + naturally the Mattisons didn't see it.” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed, broken only by the rain monotonously falling on the + roof, and occasionally through the broad adobe chimney, where it provoked + a retaliating hiss and splutter from the dying embers of the hearth. The + Right Bower, with a sudden access of energy, drew the empty barrel before + him, and taking a pack of well-worn cards from his pocket, began to make a + “solitaire” upon the lid. The others gazed at him with languid interest. + </p> + <p> + “Makin' it for anythin'?” asked Mills. + </p> + <p> + The Right Bower nodded. + </p> + <p> + The Judge and Left Bower, who were partly lying in their respective bunks, + sat up to get a better view of the game. Union Mills slowly disengaged + himself from the wall and leaned over the “solitaire” player. The Right + Bower turned the last card in a pause of almost thrilling suspense, and + clapped it down on the lid with fateful emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “It went!” said the Judge in a voice of hushed respect. “What did you make + it for?” he almost whispered. + </p> + <p> + “To know if we'd make the break we talked about and vamose the ranch. It's + the FIFTH time today,” continued the Right Bower in a voice of gloomy + significance. “And it went agin bad cards too.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't superstitious,” said the Judge, with awe and fatuity beaming from + every line of his credulous face, “but it's flyin' in the face of + Providence to go agin such signs as that.” + </p> + <p> + “Make it again, to see if the Old Man must go,” suggested the Left Bower. + </p> + <p> + The suggestion was received with favor, the three men gathering + breathlessly around the player. Again the fateful cards were shuffled + deliberately, placed in their mysterious combination, with the same + ominous result. Yet everybody seemed to breathe more freely, as if + relieved from some responsibility, the Judge accepting this manifest + expression of Providence with resigned self-righteousness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, gentlemen,” resumed the Left Bower, serenely, as if a calm legal + decision had just been recorded, “we must not let any foolishness or + sentiment get mixed up with this thing, but look at it like business men. + The only sensible move is to get up and get out of the camp.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Old Man?” queried the Judge. + </p> + <p> + “The Old Man—hush! he's coming.” + </p> + <p> + The doorway was darkened by a slight lissome shadow. It was the absent + partner, otherwise known as “the Old Man.” Need it be added that he was a + BOY of nineteen, with a slight down just clothing his upper lip! + </p> + <p> + “The creek is up over the ford, and I had to 'shin' up a willow on the + bank and swing myself across,” he said, with a quick, frank laugh; “but + all the same, boys, it's going to clear up in about an hour, you bet. It's + breaking away over Bald Mountain, and there's a sun flash on a bit of snow + on Lone Peak. Look! you can see it from here. It's for all the world like + Noah's dove just landed on Mount Ararat. It's a good omen.” + </p> + <p> + From sheer force of habit the men had momentarily brightened up at the Old + Man's entrance. But the unblushing exhibition of degrading superstition + shown in the last sentence recalled their just severity. They exchanged + meaning glances. Union Mills uttered hopelessly to himself: “Hell's full + of such omens.” + </p> + <p> + Too occupied with his subject to notice this ominous reception, the Old + Man continued: “I reckon I struck a fresh lead in the new grocery man at + the Crossing. He says he'll let the Judge have a pair of boots on credit, + but he can't send them over here; and considering that the Judge has got + to try them anyway, it don't seem to be asking too much for the Judge to + go over there. He says he'll give us a barrel of pork and a bag of flour + if we'll give him the right of using our tail-race and clean out the lower + end of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the work of a Chinaman, and a four days' job,” broke in the Left + Bower. + </p> + <p> + “It took one white man only two hours to clean out a third of it,” + retorted the Old Man triumphantly, “for I pitched in at once with a pick + he let me have on credit, and did that amount of work this morning, and + told him the rest of you boys would finish it this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + A slight gesture from the Right Bower checked an angry exclamation from + the Left. The Old Man did not notice either, but, knitting his smooth + young brow in a paternally reflective fashion, went on: “You'll have to + get a new pair of trousers, Mills, but as he doesn't keep clothing, we'll + have to get some canvas and cut you out a pair. I traded off the beans he + let me have for some tobacco for the Right Bower at the other shop, and + got them to throw in a new pack of cards. These are about played out. + We'll be wanting some brushwood for the fire; there's a heap in the + hollow. Who's going to bring it in? It's the Judge's turn, isn't it? Why, + what's the matter with you all?” + </p> + <p> + The restraint and evident uneasiness of his companions had at last touched + him. He turned his frank young eyes upon them; they glanced helplessly at + each other. Yet his first concern was for them, his first instinct + paternal and protecting. He ran his eyes quickly over them; they were all + there and apparently in their usual condition. “Anything wrong with the + claim?” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + Without looking at him the Right Bower rose, leaned against the open door + with his hands behind him and his face towards the landscape, and said, + apparently to the distant prospect: “The claim's played out, the + partnership's played out, and the sooner we skedaddle out of this the + better. If,” he added, turning to the Old Man, “if YOU want to stay, if + you want to do Chinaman's work at Chinaman's wages, if you want to hang on + to the charity of the traders at the Crossing, you can do it, and enjoy + the prospects and the Noah's doves alone. But we're calculatin' to step + out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I haven't said I wanted to do it ALONE,” protested the Old Man with a + gesture of bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “If these are your general ideas of the partnership,” continued the Right + Bower, clinging to the established hypothesis of the other partners for + support, “it ain't ours, and the only way we can prove it is to stop the + foolishness right here. We calculated to dissolve the partnership and + strike out for ourselves elsewhere. You're no longer responsible for us, + nor we for you. And we reckon it's the square thing to leave you the claim + and the cabin, and all it contains. To prevent any trouble with the + traders, we've drawn up a paper here—” + </p> + <p> + “With a bonus of fifty thousand dollars each down, and the rest to be + settled on my children,” interrupted the Old Man, with a half-uneasy + laugh. “Of course. But—” he stopped suddenly, the blood dropped from + his fresh cheek, and he again glanced quickly round the group. “I don't + think—I—I quite sabe, boys,” he added, with a slight tremor of + voice and lip. “If it's a conundrum, ask me an easier one.” + </p> + <p> + Any lingering doubt he might have had of their meaning was dispelled by + the Judge. “It's about the softest thing you kin drop into, Old Man,” he + said confidentially; “if I hadn't promised the other boys to go with them, + and if I didn't need the best medical advice in Sacramento for my lungs, + I'd just enjoy staying with you.” + </p> + <p> + “It gives a sorter freedom to a young fellow like you, Old Man, like goin' + into the world on your own capital, that every Californian boy hasn't + got,” said Union Mills, patronizingly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it's rather hard papers on us, you know, givin' up everything, + so to speak; but it's for your good, and we ain't goin' back on you,” said + the Left Bower, “are we, boys?” + </p> + <p> + The color had returned to the Old Man's face a little more quickly and + freely than usual. He picked up the hat he had cast down, put it on + carefully over his brown curls, drew the flap down on the side towards his + companions, and put his hands in his pockets. “All right,” he said, in a + slightly altered voice. “When do you go?” + </p> + <p> + “To-day,” answered the Left Bower. “We calculate to take a moonlight + pasear over to the Cross Roads and meet the down stage at about twelve + to-night. There's plenty of time yet,” he added, with a slight laugh; + “it's only three o'clock now.” + </p> + <p> + There was a dead silence. Even the rain withheld its continuous patter, a + dumb, gray film covered the ashes of the hushed hearth. For the first time + the Right Bower exhibited some slight embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it's held up for a spell,” he said, ostentatiously examining the + weather, “and we might as well take a run round the claim to see if we've + forgotten nothing. Of course, we'll be back again,” he added hastily, + without looking at the Old Man, “before we go, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The others began to look for their hats, but so awkwardly and with such + evident preoccupation of mind that it was not at first discovered that the + Judge had his already on. This raised a laugh, as did also a clumsy + stumble of Union Mills against the pork barrel, although that gentleman + took refuge from his confusion and secured a decent retreat by a gross + exaggeration of his lameness, as he limped after the Right Bower. The + Judge whistled feebly. The Left Bower, in a more ambitious effort to + impart a certain gayety to his exit, stopped on the threshold and said, as + if in arch confidence to his companions, “Darned if the Old Man don't look + two inches higher since he became a proprietor,” laughed patronizingly, + and vanished. + </p> + <p> + If the newly-made proprietor had increased in stature, he had not + otherwise changed his demeanor. He remained in the same attitude until the + last figure disappeared behind the fringe of buckeye that hid the distant + highway. Then he walked slowly to the fire-place, and, leaning against the + chimney, kicked the dying embers together with his foot. Something dropped + and spattered in the film of hot ashes. Surely the rain had not yet + ceased! + </p> + <p> + His high color had already fled except for a spot on either cheek-bone + that lent a brightness to his eyes. He glanced around the cabin. It looked + familiar and yet strange. Rather, it looked strange BECAUSE still + familiar, and therefore incongruous with the new atmosphere that + surrounded it—discordant with the echo of their last meeting, and + painfully accenting the change. There were the four “bunks,” or sleeping + berths, of his companions, each still bearing some traces of the + individuality of its late occupant with a dumb loyalty that seemed to make + their light-hearted defection monstrous. In the dead ashes of the Judge's + pipe, scattered on his shelf, still lived his old fire; in the whittled + and carved edges of the Left Bower's bunk still were the memories of + bygone days of delicious indolence; in the bullet-holes clustered round a + knot of one of the beams there was still the record of the Right Bower's + old-time skill and practice; in the few engravings of female loveliness + stuck upon each headboard there were the proofs of their old extravagant + devotion—all a mute protest to the change. + </p> + <p> + He remembered how, a fatherless, truant schoolboy, he had drifted into + their adventurous, nomadic life, itself a life of grown-up truancy like + his own, and became one of that gypsy family. How they had taken the place + of relations and household in his boyish fancy, filling it with the + unsubstantial pageantry of a child's play at grown-up existence, he knew + only too well. But how, from being a pet and protege, he had gradually and + unconsciously asserted his own individuality and taken upon his younger + shoulders not only a poet's keen appreciation of that life, but its actual + responsibilities and half-childish burdens, he never suspected. He had + fondly believed that he was a neophyte in their ways, a novice in their + charming faith and indolent creed, and they had encouraged it; now their + renunciation of that faith could only be an excuse for a renunciation of + HIM. The poetry that had for two years invested the material and sometimes + even mean details of their existence was too much a part of himself to be + lightly dispelled. The lesson of those ingenuous moralists failed, as such + lessons are apt to fail; their discipline provoked but did not subdue; a + rising indignation, stirred by a sense of injury, mounted to his cheek and + eyes. It was slow to come, but was none the less violent that it had been + preceded by the benumbing shock of shame and pride. + </p> + <p> + I hope I shall not prejudice the reader's sympathies if my duty as a + simple chronicler compels me to state, therefore, that the sober second + thought of this gentle poet was to burn down the cabin on the spot with + all its contents. This yielded to a milder counsel—waiting for the + return of the party, challenging the Right Bower, a duel to the death, + perhaps himself the victim, with a crushing explanation in extremis, “It + seems we are ONE too many. No matter; it is settled now. Farewell!” Dimly + remembering, however, that there was something of this in the last + well-worn novel they had read together, and that his antagonist might + recognize it, or even worse, anticipate it himself, the idea was quickly + rejected. Besides, the opportunity for an apotheosis of self-sacrifice was + past. Nothing remained now but to refuse the proffered bribe of claim and + cabin by letter, for he must not wait their return. He tore a leaf from a + blotted diary, begun and abandoned long since, and essayed to write. + Scrawl after scrawl was torn up, until his fury had cooled down to a + frigid third personality. “Mr. John Ford regrets to inform his late + partners that their tender of house, of furniture,” however, seemed too + inconsistent with the pork-barrel table he was writing on; a more eloquent + renunciation of their offer became frivolous and idiotic from a caricature + of Union Mills, label and all, that appeared suddenly on the other side of + the leaf; and when he at last indited a satisfactory and impassioned + exposition of his feelings, the legible addendum of “Oh, ain't you glad + you're out of the wilderness!”—the forgotten first line of a popular + song, which no scratching would erase—seemed too like an ironical + postscript to be thought of for a moment. He threw aside his pen and cast + the discordant record of past foolish pastime into the dead ashes of the + hearth. + </p> + <p> + How quiet it was. With the cessation of the rain the wind too had gone + down, and scarcely a breath of air came through the open door. He walked + to the threshold and gazed on the hushed prospect. In this listless + attitude he was faintly conscious of a distant reverberation, a mere + phantom of sound—perhaps the explosion of a distant blast in the + hills—that left the silence more marked and oppressive. As he turned + again into the cabin a change seemed to have come over it. It already + looked old and decayed. The loneliness of years of desertion seemed to + have taken possession of it; the atmosphere of dry rot was in the beams + and rafters. To his excited fancy the few disordered blankets and articles + of clothing seemed dropping to pieces; in one of the bunks there was a + hideous resemblance in the longitudinal heap of clothing to a withered and + mummied corpse. So it might look in after years when some passing stranger—but + he stopped. A dread of the place was beginning to creep over him; a dread + of the days to come, when the monotonous sunshine should lay bare the + loneliness of these walls; the long, long days of endless blue and + cloudless, overhanging solitude; summer days when the wearying, incessant + trade winds should sing around that empty shell and voice its desolation. + He gathered together hastily a few articles that were especially his own—rather + that the free communion of the camp, from indifference or accident, had + left wholly to him. He hesitated for a moment over his rifle, but, + scrupulous in his wounded pride, turned away and left the familiar weapon + that in the dark days had so often provided the dinner or breakfast of the + little household. Candor compels me to state that his equipment was not + large nor eminently practical. His scant pack was a light weight for even + his young shoulders, but I fear he thought more of getting away from the + Past than providing for the Future. + </p> + <p> + With this vague but sole purpose he left the cabin, and almost + mechanically turned his steps towards the creek he had crossed that + morning. He knew that by this route he would avoid meeting his companions; + its difficulties and circuitousness would exercise his feverish limbs and + give him time for reflection. He had determined to leave the claim, but + whence he had not yet considered. He reached the bank of the creek where + he had stood two hours before; it seemed to him two years. He looked + curiously at his reflection in one of the broad pools of overflow, and + fancied he looked older. He watched the rush and outset of the turbid + current hurrying to meet the South Fork, and to eventually lose itself in + the yellow Sacramento. Even in his preoccupation he was impressed with a + likeness to himself and his companions in this flood that had burst its + peaceful boundaries. In the drifting fragments of one of their forgotten + flumes washed from the bank, he fancied he saw an omen of the + disintegration and decay of the Lone Star claim. + </p> + <p> + The strange hush in the air that he had noticed before—a calm so + inconsistent with that hour and the season as to seem portentous—became + more marked in contrast to the feverish rush of the turbulent + water-course. A few clouds lazily huddled in the west apparently had gone + to rest with the sun on beds of somnolent poppies. There was a gleam as of + golden water everywhere along the horizon, washing out the cold snowpeaks, + and drowning even the rising moon. The creek caught it here and there, + until, in grim irony, it seemed to bear their broken sluice-boxes and + useless engines on the very Pactolian stream they had been hopefully + created to direct and carry. But by some peculiar trick of the atmosphere, + the perfect plenitude of that golden sunset glory was lavished on the + rugged sides and tangled crest of the Lone Star mountain. That isolated + peak, the landmark of their claim, the gaunt monument of their folly, + transfigured in the evening splendor, kept its radiance unquenched long + after the glow had fallen from the encompassing skies, and when at last + the rising moon, step by step, put out the fires along the winding valley + and plains, and crept up the bosky sides of the canyon, the vanishing + sunset was lost only to reappear as a golden crown. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the young man were fixed upon it with more than a momentary + picturesque interest. It had been the favorite ground of his prospecting + exploits, its lowest flank had been scarred in the old enthusiastic days + with hydraulic engines, or pierced with shafts, but its central position + in the claim and its superior height had always given it a commanding view + of the extent of their valley and its approaches, and it was this + practical pre-eminence that alone attracted him at that moment. He knew + that from its crest he would be able to distinguish the figures of his + companions, as they crossed the valley near the cabin, in the growing + moonlight. Thus he could avoid encountering them on his way to the high + road, and yet see them, perhaps, for the last time. Even in his sense of + injury there was a strange satisfaction in the thought. + </p> + <p> + The ascent was toilsome, but familiar. All along the dim trail he was + accompanied by gentler memories of the past, that seemed, like the faint + odor of spiced leaves and fragrant grasses wet with the rain and crushed + beneath his ascending tread, to exhale the sweeter perfume in his effort + to subdue or rise above them. There was the thicket of manzanita, where + they had broken noonday bread together; here was the rock beside their + maiden shaft, where they had poured a wild libation in boyish enthusiasm + of success; and here the ledge where their first flag, a red shirt + heroically sacrificed, was displayed from a long-handled shovel to the + gaze of admirers below. When he at last reached the summit, the mysterious + hush was still in the air, as if in breathless sympathy with his + expedition. In the west, the plain was faintly illuminated, but disclosed + no moving figures. He turned towards the rising moon, and moved slowly to + the eastern edge. Suddenly he stopped. Another step would have been his + last! He stood upon the crumbling edge of a precipice. A landslip had + taken place on the eastern flank, leaving the gaunt ribs and fleshless + bones of Lone Star mountain bare in the moonlight. He understood now the + strange rumble and reverberation he had heard; he understood now the + strange hush of bird and beast in brake and thicket! + </p> + <p> + Although a single rapid glance convinced him that the slide had taken + place in an unfrequented part of the mountain, above an inaccessible + canyon, and reflection assured him his companions could not have reached + that distance when it took place, a feverish impulse led him to descend a + few rods in the track of the avalanche. The frequent recurrence of outcrop + and angle made this comparatively easy. Here he called aloud; the feeble + echo of his own voice seemed only a dull impertinence to the significant + silence. He turned to reascend; the furrowed flank of the mountain before + him lay full in the moonlight. To his excited fancy, a dozen luminous + star-like points in the rocky crevices started into life as he faced them. + Throwing his arm over the ledge above him, he supported himself for a + moment by what appeared to be a projection of the solid rock. It trembled + slightly. As he raised himself to its level, his heart stopped beating. It + was simply a fragment detached from the outcrop, lying loosely on the + ledge but upholding him by ITS OWN WEIGHT ONLY. He examined it with + trembling fingers; the encumbering soil fell from its sides and left its + smoothed and worn protuberances glistening in the moonlight. It was virgin + gold! + </p> + <p> + Looking back upon that moment afterwards, he remembered that he was not + dazed, dazzled, or startled. It did not come to him as a discovery or an + accident, a stroke of chance or a caprice of fortune. He saw it all in + that supreme moment; Nature had worked out their poor deduction. What + their feeble engines had essayed spasmodically and helplessly against the + curtain of soil that hid the treasure, the elements had achieved with + mightier but more patient forces. The slow sapping of the winter rains had + loosened the soil from the auriferous rock, even while the swollen stream + was carrying their impotent and shattered engines to the sea. + </p> + <p> + What mattered that his single arm could not lift the treasure he had + found! What mattered that to unfix those glittering stars would still tax + both skill and patience! The work was done, the goal was reached! even his + boyish impatience was content with that. He rose slowly to his feet, + unstrapped his long-handled shovel from his back, secured it in the + crevice, and quietly regained the summit. + </p> + <p> + It was all his own! His own by right of discovery under the law of the + land, and without accepting a favor from THEM. He recalled even the fact + that it was HIS prospecting on the mountain that first suggested the + existence of gold in the outcrop and the use of the hydraulic. HE had + never abandoned that belief, whatever the others had done. He dwelt + somewhat indignantly to himself on this circumstance, and half + unconsciously faced defiantly towards the plain below. But it was sleeping + peacefully in the full sight of the moon, without life or motion. He + looked at the stars; it was still far from midnight. His companions had no + doubt long since returned to the cabin to prepare for their midnight + journey. They were discussing him, perhaps laughing at him, or worse, + pitying him and his bargain. Yet here was his bargain! A slight laugh he + gave vent to here startled him a little, it sounded so hard and so + unmirthful, and so unlike, as he oddly fancied, what he really THOUGHT. + But WHAT did he think? + </p> + <p> + Nothing mean or revengeful; no, they never would say THAT. When he had + taken out all the surface gold and put the mine in working order, he would + send them each a draft for a thousand dollars. Of course, if they were + ever ill or poor he would do more. One of the first, the very first things + he should do would be to send them each a handsome gun and tell them that + he only asked in return the old-fashioned rifle that once was his. Looking + back at the moment in after years, he wondered that, with this exception, + he made no plans for his own future, or the way he should dispose of his + newly acquired wealth. This was the more singular as it had been the + custom of the five partners to lie awake at night, audibly comparing with + each other what they would do in case they made a strike. He remembered + how, Alnaschar-like, they nearly separated once over a difference in the + disposal of a hundred thousand dollars that they never had, nor expected + to have. He remembered how Union Mills always began his career as a + millionnaire by a “square meal” at Delmonico's; how the Right Bower's + initial step was always a trip home “to see his mother”; how the Left + Bower would immediately placate the parents of his beloved with priceless + gifts (it may be parenthetically remarked that the parents and the beloved + one were as hypothetical as the fortune); and how the Judge would make his + first start as a capitalist by breaking a certain faro bank in Sacramento. + He himself had been equally eloquent in extravagant fancy in those + penniless days, he who now was quite cold and impassive beside the more + extravagant reality. + </p> + <p> + How different it might have been! If they had only waited a day longer! if + they had only broken their resolves to him kindly and parted in good will! + How he would long ere this have rushed to greet them with the joyful news! + How they would have danced around it, sung themselves hoarse, laughed down + their enemies, and run up the flag triumphantly on the summit of the Lone + Star Mountain! How they would have crowned him “the Old Man,” “the hero of + the camp!” How he would have told them the whole story; how some strange + instinct had impelled him to ascend the summit, and how another step on + that summit would have precipitated him into the canyon! And how—but + what if somebody else, Union Mills or the Judge, had been the first + discoverer? Might they not have meanly kept the secret from him; have + selfishly helped themselves and done— + </p> + <p> + “What YOU are doing now.” + </p> + <p> + The hot blood rushed to his cheek, as if a strange voice were at his ear. + For a moment he could not believe that it came from his own pale lips + until he found himself speaking. He rose to his feet, tingling with shame, + and began hurriedly to descend the mountain. + </p> + <p> + He would go to them, tell them of his discovery, let them give him his + share, and leave them forever. It was the only thing to be done, strange + that he had not thought of it at once. Yet it was hard, very hard and + cruel to be forced to meet them again. What had he done to suffer this + mortification? For a moment he actually hated this vulgar treasure that + had forever buried under its gross ponderability the light and careless + past, and utterly crushed out the poetry of their old, indolent, happy + existence. + </p> + <p> + He was sure to find them waiting at the Cross Roads where the coach came + past. It was three miles away, yet he could get there in time if he + hastened. It was a wise and practical conclusion of his evening's work, a + lame and impotent conclusion to his evening's indignation. No matter. They + would perhaps at first think he had come to weakly follow them, perhaps + they would at first doubt his story. No matter. He bit his lips to keep + down the foolish rising tears, but still went blindly forward. + </p> + <p> + He saw not the beautiful night, cradled in the dark hills, swathed in + luminous mists, and hushed in the awe of its own loveliness! Here and + there the moon had laid her calm face on lake and overflow, and gone to + sleep embracing them, until the whole plain seemed to be lifted into + infinite quiet. Walking on as in a dream, the black, impenetrable barriers + of skirting thickets opened and gave way to vague distances that it + appeared impossible to reach, dim vistas that seemed unapproachable. + Gradually he seemed himself to become a part of the mysterious night. He + was becoming as pulseless, as calm, as passionless. + </p> + <p> + What was that? A shot in the direction of the cabin! yet so faint, so + echoless, so ineffective in the vast silence, that he would have thought + it his fancy but for the strange instinctive jar upon his sensitive + nerves. Was it an accident, or was it an intentional signal to him? He + stopped; it was not repeated, the silence reasserted itself, but this time + with an ominous death-like suggestion. A sudden and terrible thought + crossed his mind. He cast aside his pack and all encumbering weight, took + a deep breath, lowered his head and darted like a deer in the direction of + the challenge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + The exodus of the seceding partners of the Lone Star claim had been + scarcely an imposing one. For the first five minutes after quitting the + cabin, the procession was straggling and vagabond. Unwonted exertion had + exaggerated the lameness of some, and feebleness of moral purpose had + predisposed the others to obtrusive musical exhibition. Union Mills limped + and whistled with affected abstraction; the Judge whistled and limped with + affected earnestness. The Right Bower led the way with some show of + definite design; the Left Bower followed with his hands in his pockets. + The two feebler natures, drawn together in unconscious sympathy, looked + vaguely at each other for support. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said the Judge, suddenly, as if triumphantly concluding an + argument, “there ain't anything better for a young fellow than + independence. Nature, so to speak, points the way. Look at the animals.” + </p> + <p> + “There's a skunk hereabouts,” said Union Mills, who was supposed to be + gifted with aristocratically sensitive nostrils, “within ten miles of this + place; like as not crossing the Ridge. It's always my luck to happen out + just at such times. I don't see the necessity anyhow of trapesing round + the claim now, if we calculate to leave it to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Both men waited to observe if the suggestion was taken up by the Right and + Left Bower moodily plodding ahead. No response following, the Judge + shamelessly abandoned his companion. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't stand snoopin' round instead of lettin' the Old Man get used + to the idea alone? No; I could see all along that he was takin' it in, + takin' it in, kindly but slowly, and I reckoned the best thing for us to + do was to git up and git until he'd got round it.” The Judge's voice was + slightly raised for the benefit of the two before him. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't he say,” remarked the Right Bower, stopping suddenly and facing + the others, “didn't he say that that new trader was goin' to let him have + some provisions anyway?” + </p> + <p> + Union Mills turned appealingly to the Judge; that gentleman was forced to + reply, “Yes; I remember distinctly he said it. It was one of the things I + was particular about on his account,” responded the Judge, with the air of + having arranged it all himself with the new trader. “I remember I was + easier in my mind about it.” + </p> + <p> + “But didn't he say,” queried the Left Bower, also stopping short, “suthin' + about it's being contingent on our doing some work on the race?” + </p> + <p> + The Judge turned for support to Union Mills, who, however, under the + hollow pretense of preparing for a long conference, had luxuriously seated + himself on a stump. The Judge sat down also, and replied, hesitatingly, + “Well, yes! Us or him.” + </p> + <p> + “Us or him,” repeated the Right Bower, with gloomy irony. “And you ain't + quite clear in your mind, are you, if YOU haven't done the work already? + You're just killing yourself with this spontaneous, promiscuous, and + premature overwork; that's what's the matter with you.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I heard somebody say suthin' about it's being a Chinaman's + three-day job,” interpolated the Left Bower, with equal irony, “but I + ain't quite clear in my mind about that.” + </p> + <p> + “It'll be a sorter distraction for the Old Man,” said Union Mills, feebly—“kinder + take his mind off his loneliness.” + </p> + <p> + Nobody taking the least notice of the remark, union Mills stretched out + his legs more comfortably and took out his pipe. He had scarcely done so + when the Right Bower, wheeling suddenly, set off in the direction of the + creek. The Left Bower, after a slight pause, followed without a word. The + Judge, wisely conceiving it better to join the stronger party, ran feebly + after him, and left Union Mills to bring up a weak and vacillating rear. + </p> + <p> + Their course, diverging from Lone Star Mountain, led them now directly to + the bend of the creek, the base of their old ineffectual operations. Here + was the beginning of the famous tail-race that skirted the new trader's + claim, and then lost its way in a swampy hollow. It was choked with + debris; a thin, yellow stream that once ran through it seemed to have + stopped work when they did, and gone into greenish liquidation. + </p> + <p> + They had scarcely spoken during this brief journey, and had received no + other explanation from the Right Bower, who led them, than that afforded + by his mute example when he reached the race. Leaping into it without a + word, he at once began to clear away the broken timbers and driftwood. + Fired by the spectacle of what appeared to be a new and utterly frivolous + game, the men gayly leaped after him, and were soon engaged in a + fascinating struggle with the impeded race. The Judge forgot his lameness + in springing over a broken sluice-box; Union Mills forgot his whistle in a + happy imitation of a Chinese coolie's song. Nevertheless, after ten + minutes of this mild dissipation, the pastime flagged; Union Mills was + beginning to rub his leg when a distant rumble shook the earth. The men + looked at each other; the diversion was complete; a languid discussion of + the probabilities of its being an earthquake or a blast followed, in the + midst of which the Right Bower, who was working a little in advance of the + others, uttered a warning cry and leaped from the race. His companions had + barely time to follow before a sudden and inexplicable rise in the waters + of the creek sent a swift irruption of the flood through the race. In an + instant its choked and impeded channel was cleared, the race was free, and + the scattered debris of logs and timber floated upon its easy current. + Quick to take advantage of this labor-saving phenomenon, the Lone Star + partners sprang into the water, and by disentangling and directing the + eddying fragments completed their work. + </p> + <p> + “The Old Man oughter been here to see this,” said the Left Bower; “it's + just one o' them climaxes of poetic justice he's always huntin' up. It's + easy to see what's happened. One o' them high-toned shrimps over in the + Excelsior claim has put a blast in too near the creek. He's tumbled the + bank into the creek and sent the back water down here just to wash out our + race. That's what I call poetical retribution.” + </p> + <p> + “And who was it advised us to dam the creek below the race and make it do + the thing?” asked the Right Bower, moodily. + </p> + <p> + “That was one of the Old Man's ideas, I reckon,” said the Left Bower, + dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “And you remember,” broke in the Judge with animation, “I allus said, 'Go + slow, go slow. You just hold on and suthin' will happen.' And,” he added, + triumphantly, “you see suthin' has happened. I don't want to take credit + to myself, but I reckoned on them Excelsior boys bein' fools, and took the + chances.” + </p> + <p> + “And what if I happen to know that the Excelsior boys ain't blastin' + to-day?” said the Right Bower, sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + As the Judge had evidently based his hypothesis on the alleged fact of a + blast, he deftly evaded the point. “I ain't saying the Old Man's head + ain't level on some things; he wants a little more sabe of the world. He's + improved a good deal in euchre lately, and in poker—well! he's got + that sorter dreamy, listenin'-to-the-angels kind o' way that you can't + exactly tell whether he's bluffin' or has got a full hand. Hasn't he?” he + asked, appealing to Union Mills. + </p> + <p> + But that gentleman, who had been watching the dark face of the Right + Bower, preferred to take what he believed to be his cue from him. “That + ain't the question,” he said virtuously; “we ain't takin' this step to + make a card sharp out of him. We're not doin' Chinamen's work in this race + to-day for that. No, sir! We're teachin' him to paddle his own canoe.” Not + finding the sympathetic response he looked for in the Right Bower's face, + he turned to the Left. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon we were teachin' him our canoe was too full,” was the Left + Bower's unexpected reply. “That's about the size of it.” + </p> + <p> + The Right Bower shot a rapid glance under his brows at his brother. The + latter, with his hands in his pockets, stared unconsciously at the rushing + waters, and then quietly turned away. The Right Bower followed him. “Are + you goin' back on us?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Are you?” responded the other. + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “NO, then it is,” returned the Left Bower quietly. The elder brother + hesitated in half-angry embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Then what did you mean by saying we reckoned our canoe was too full?” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't that our idea?” returned the Left Bower, indifferently. Confounded + by this practical expression of his own unformulated good intentions, the + Right Bower was staggered. + </p> + <p> + “Speakin' of the Old Man,” broke in the Judge, with characteristic + infelicity, “I reckon he'll sort o' miss us, times like these. We were + allers runnin' him and bedevilin' him, after work, just to get him excited + and amusin', and he'll kinder miss that sort o' stimulatin'. I reckon + we'll miss it too, somewhat. Don't you remember, boys, the night we put up + that little sell on him and made him believe we'd struck it rich in the + bank of the creek, and got him so conceited, he wanted to go off and + settle all our debts at once?” + </p> + <p> + “And how I came bustin' into the cabin with a pan full of iron pyrites and + black sand,” chuckled Union Mills, continuing the reminiscences, “and how + them big gray eyes of his nearly bulged out of his head. Well, it's some + satisfaction to know we did our duty by the young fellow even in those + little things.” He turned for confirmation of their general + disinterestedness to the Right Bower, but he was already striding away, + uneasily conscious of the lazy following of the Left Bower, like a laggard + conscience at his back. This movement again threw Union Mills and the + Judge into feeble complicity in the rear, as the procession slowly + straggled homeward from the creek. + </p> + <p> + Night had fallen. Their way lay through the shadow of Lone Star Mountain, + deepened here and there by the slight, bosky ridges that, starting from + its base, crept across the plain like vast roots of its swelling trunk. + The shadows were growing blacker as the moon began to assert itself over + the rest of the valley, when the Right Bower halted suddenly on one of + these ridges. The Left Bower lounged up to him, and stopped also, while + the two others came up and completed the group. + </p> + <p> + “There's no light in the shanty,” said the Right Bower in a low voice, + half to himself and, half in answer to their inquiring attitude. The men + followed the direction of his finger. In the distance the black outline of + the Lone Star cabin stood out distinctly in the illumined space. There was + the blank, sightless, external glitter of moonlight on its two windows + that seemed to reflect its dim vacancy, empty alike of light, and warmth, + and motion. + </p> + <p> + “That's sing'lar,” said the Judge in an awed whisper. + </p> + <p> + The Left Bower, by simply altering the position of his hands in his + trousers' pockets, managed to suggest that he knew perfectly the meaning + of it, had always known it; but that being now, so to speak, in the hands + of Fate, he was callous to it. This much, at least, the elder brother read + in his attitude. But anxiety at that moment was the controlling impulse of + the Right Bower, as a certain superstitious remorse was the instinct of + the two others, and without heeding the cynic, the three started at a + rapid pace for the cabin. + </p> + <p> + They reached it silently, as the moon, now riding high in the heavens, + seemed to touch it with the tender grace and hushed repose of a tomb. It + was with something of this feeling that the Right Bower softly pushed open + the door; it was with something of this dread that the two others lingered + on the threshold, until the Right Bower, after vainly trying to stir the + dead embers on the hearth into life with his foot, struck a match and lit + their solitary candle. Its flickering light revealed the familiar interior + unchanged in aught but one thing. The bunk that the Old Man had occupied + was stripped of its blankets; the few cheap ornaments and photographs were + gone; the rude poverty of the bare boards and scant pallet looked up at + them unrelieved by the bright face and gracious youth that had once made + them tolerable. In the grim irony of that exposure, their own penury was + doubly conscious. The little knapsack, the teacup and coffee-pot that had + hung near his bed, were gone also. The most indignant protest, the most + pathetic of the letters he had composed and rejected, whose torn fragments + still littered the floor, could never have spoken with the eloquence of + this empty space! The men exchanged no words: the solitude of the cabin, + instead of drawing them together, seemed to isolate each one in selfish + distrust of the others. Even the unthinking garrulity of Union Mills and + the Judge was checked. A moment later, when the Left Bower entered the + cabin, his presence was scarcely noticed. + </p> + <p> + The silence was broken by a joyous exclamation from the Judge. He had + discovered the Old Man's rifle in the corner, where it had been at first + overlooked. “He ain't gone yet, gentlemen—for yer's his rifle,” he + broke in, with a feverish return of volubility, and a high excited + falsetto. “He wouldn't have left this behind. No! I knowed it from the + first. He's just outside a bit, foraging for wood and water. No, sir! + Coming along here I said to Union Mills—didn't I?—'Bet your + life the Old Man's not far off, even if he ain't in the cabin.' Why, the + moment I stepped foot—” + </p> + <p> + “And I said coming along,” interrupted Union Mills, with equally reviving + mendacity, “Like as not he's hangin' round yer and lyin' low just to give + us a surprise.' He! ho!” + </p> + <p> + “He's gone for good, and he left that rifle here on purpose,” said the + Left Bower in a low voice, taking the weapon almost tenderly in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Drop it, then!” said the Right Bower. The voice was that of his brother, + but suddenly changed with passion. The two other partners instinctively + drew back in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not leave it here for the first comer,” said the Left Bower, calmly, + “because we've been fools and he too. It's too good a weapon for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Drop it, I say!” said the Right Bower, with a savage stride towards him. + </p> + <p> + The younger brother brought the rifle to a half charge with a white face + but a steady eye. + </p> + <p> + “Stop where you are!” he said collectedly. “Don't row with ME, because you + haven't either the grit to stick to your ideas or the heart to confess + them wrong. We've followed your lead, and—here we are! The camp's + broken up—the Old Man's gone—and we're going. And as for the d——d + rifle—” + </p> + <p> + “Drop it, do you hear!” shouted the Right Bower, clinging to that one idea + with the blind pertinacity of rage and a losing cause. “Drop it!” + </p> + <p> + The Left Bower drew back, but his brother had seized the barrel with both + hands. There was a momentary struggle, a flash through the half-lighted + cabin, and a shattering report. The two men fell back from each other; the + rifle dropped on the floor between them. + </p> + <p> + The whole thing was over so quickly that the other two partners had not + had time to obey their common impulse to separate them, and consequently + even now could scarcely understand what had passed. It was over so quickly + that the two actors themselves walked back to their places, scarcely + realizing their own act. + </p> + <p> + A dead silence followed. The Judge and Union Mills looked at each other in + dazed astonishment, and then nervously set about their former habits, + apparently in that fatuous belief common to such natures, that they were + ignoring a painful situation. The Judge drew the barrel towards him, + picked up the cards, and began mechanically to “make a patience,” on which + Union Mills gazed with ostentatious interest, but with eyes furtively + conscious of the rigid figure of the Right Bower by the chimney and the + abstracted face of the Left Bower at the door. Ten minutes had passed in + this occupation, the Judge and Union Mills conversing in the furtive + whispers of children unavoidably but fascinatedly present at a family + quarrel, when a light step was heard upon the crackling brushwood outside, + and the bright panting face of the Old Man appeared upon the threshold. + There was a shout of joy; in another moment he was half-buried in the + bosom of the Right Bower's shirt, half-dragged into the lap of the Judge, + upsetting the barrel, and completely encompassed by the Left Bower and + Union Mills. With the enthusiastic utterance of his name the spell was + broken. + </p> + <p> + Happily unconscious of the previous excitement that had provoked this + spontaneous unanimity of greeting, the Old Man, equally relieved, at once + broke into a feverish announcement of his discovery. He painted the + details, with, I fear, a slight exaggeration of coloring, due partly to + his own excitement, and partly to justify their own. But he was strangely + conscious that these bankrupt men appeared less elated with their personal + interest in their stroke of fortune than with his own success. “I told you + he'd do it,” said the Judge, with a reckless unscrupulousness of statement + that carried everybody with it; “look at him! the game little pup.” “Oh + no! he ain't the right breed, is he?” echoed Union Mills with arch irony, + while the Right and Left Bower, grasping either hand, pressed a proud but + silent greeting that was half new to him, but wholly delicious. It was not + without difficulty that he could at last prevail upon them to return with + him to the scene of his discovery, or even then restrain them from + attempting to carry him thither on their shoulders on the plea of his + previous prolonged exertions. Once only there was a momentary + embarrassment. “Then you fired that shot to bring me back?” said the Old + Man, gratefully. In the awkward silence that followed, the hands of the + two brothers sought and grasped each other, penitently. “Yes,” interposed + the Judge, with delicate tact, “ye see the Right and Left Bower almost + quarreled to see which should be the first to fire for ye. I disremember + which did”—“I never touched the trigger,” said the Left Bower, + hastily. With a hurried backward kick, the Judge resumed, “It went off + sorter spontaneous.” + </p> + <p> + The difference in the sentiment of the procession that once more issued + from the Lone Star cabin did not fail to show itself in each individual + partner according to his temperament. The subtle tact of Union Mills, + however, in expressing an awakened respect for their fortunate partner by + addressing him, as if unconsciously, as “Mr. Ford” was at first + discomposing, but even this was forgotten in their breathless excitement + as they neared the base of the mountain. When they had crossed the creek + the Right Bower stopped reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “You say you heard the slide come down before you left the cabin?” he + said, turning to the Old Man. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I did not know then what it was. It was about an hour and a half + after you left,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Then look here, boys,” continued the Right Bower with superstitious + exultation; “it was the SLIDE that tumbled into the creek, overflowed it, + and helped US clear out the race!” + </p> + <p> + It seemed so clear that Providence had taken the partners of the Lone Star + directly in hand that they faced the toilsome ascent of the mountain with + the assurance of conquerors. They paused only on the summit to allow the + Old Man to lead the way to the slope that held their treasure. He advanced + cautiously to the edge of the crumbling cliff, stopped, looked bewildered, + advanced again, and then remained white and immovable. In an instant the + Right Bower was at his side. + </p> + <p> + “Is anything the matter? Don't—don't look so, Old Man, for God's + sake!” + </p> + <p> + The Old Man pointed to the dull, smooth, black side of the mountain, + without a crag, break, or protuberance, and said with ashen lips:— + </p> + <p> + “It's gone!” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + And it was gone! A SECOND slide had taken place, stripping the flank of + the mountain, and burying the treasure and the weak implement that had + marked its side deep under a chaos of rock and debris at its base. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” The blank faces of his companions turned quickly to the Right + Bower. “Thank God!” he repeated, with his arm round the neck of the Old + Man. “Had he stayed behind he would have been buried too.” He paused, and, + pointing solemnly to the depths below, said, “And thank God for showing us + where we may yet labor for it in hope and patience like honest men.” + </p> + <p> + The men silently bowed their heads and slowly descended the mountain. But + when they had reached the plain one of them called out to the others to + watch a star that seemed to be rising and moving towards them over the + hushed and sleeping valley. + </p> + <p> + “It's only the stage coach, boys,” said the Left Bower, smiling; “the + coach that was to take us away.” + </p> + <p> + In the security of their new-found fraternity they resolved to wait and + see it pass. As it swept by with flash of light, beat of hoofs, and jingle + of harness, the only real presence in the dreamy landscape, the driver + shouted a hoarse greeting to the phantom partners, audible only to the + Judge, who was nearest the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear—DID you hear what he said, boys?” he gasped, turning + to his companions. “No! Shake hands all round, boys! God bless you all, + boys! To think we didn't know it all this while!” + </p> + <p> + “Know what?” + </p> + <p> + “Merry Christmas!” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Frontier, by Bret Harte + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE FRONTIER *** + +***** This file should be named 2574-h.htm or 2574-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/7/2574/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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