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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29628-8.txt b/29628-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e179736 --- /dev/null +++ b/29628-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14375 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Woman, by Ridgwell Cullum + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Golden Woman + A Story of the Montana Hills + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + +Release Date: August 7, 2009 [EBook #29628] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WOMAN *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + The Golden Woman + + + A Story of the Montana Hills + + + By RIDGWELL CULLUM + + AUTHOR OF + "The Way of the Strong," "The Law Breakers," + "The Trail of the Axe," Etc. + + With Frontispiece in Colors + + A. L. BURT COMPANY + + Publishers New York + + Published by Arrangement with GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY + + + + + Copyright, 1913, by + GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY + Published February, 1916 + + _All rights reserved_ + Printed in U. S. A. + + + + +[Illustration: "It's the same book, dear, only a different chapter."] + + + + +Contents + + + I. AUNT MERCY 9 + II. OVER THE TELEPHONE 20 + III. THE PARIAH 26 + IV. TWO MEN OF THE WILDERNESS 39 + V. THE STEEPS OF LIFE 54 + VI. OUT OF THE STORM 73 + VII. A SIMPLE MANHOOD 85 + VIII. THE SECRET OF THE HILL 96 + IX. GATHERING FOR THE FEAST 106 + X. SOLVING THE RIDDLE 110 + XI. THE SHADOW OF THE PAST 121 + XII. THE GOLDEN WOMAN 133 + XIII. THE CALL OF YOUTH 149 + XIV. A WHIRLWIND VISIT 158 + XV. THE CLAIMS OF DUTY 165 + XVI. GOLD AND ALLOY 177 + XVII. TWO POINTS OF VIEW 187 + XVIII. WHEN LIFE HOLDS NO SHADOWS 204 + XIX. A STUDY IN MISCHIEF 217 + XX. THE ABILITIES OF MRS. RANSFORD 229 + XXI. THE MEETING ON THE TRAIL 240 + XXII. A MAN'S SUPPORT 246 + XXIII. THE BRIDGING OF YEARS 258 + XXIV. BEASLEY PLAYS THE GAME 273 + XXV. BUCK LAUGHS AT FATE 286 + XXVI. IRONY 301 + XXVII. THE WEB OF FATE 313 + XXVIII. A BLACK NIGHT 325 + XXIX. BEASLEY IN HIS ELEMENT 334 + XXX. THE MOVING FINGER 356 + XXXI. THE JOY OF BEASLEY 364 + XXXII. STRONGER THAN DEATH 374 + XXXIII. THE TEMPEST BREAKS 389 + XXXIV. THE EYES OF THE HILLS 402 + XXXV. FROM OUT OF THE ABYSS 407 + XXXVI. THE CATACLYSM 420 + XXXVII. ALONE-- 427 + XXXVIII. --IN THE WILDERNESS 432 + XXXIX. LOVE'S VICTORY 439 + + + + +The Golden Woman + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AUNT MERCY + + +An elderly woman looked up from the crystal globe before her. The +sound of horse's hoofs, clattering up to the veranda, had caught her +attention. But the hard, gray eyes had not yet recovered their normal +frigidity of expression. There were still traces in them of the +groping mind, searching on, amidst the chaos of a world unseen. Nor +was Mercy Lascelles posing at the trade which yielded her something +more than her daily bread. She had no reason for pose. She was an +ardent and proficient student of that remote science which has for its +field of research the border-land between earthly life and the +ultimate. + +For some moments she gazed half-vacantly through the window. Then +alertness and interest came back to her eyes, and her look resumed its +normal hardness. It was an unlovely face, but its unloveliness lay in +its expression. There was something so unyielding in the keen, +aquiline nose and pointed chin. The gray eyes were so cold. The +pronounced brows were almost threatening in their marking and +depression. There was not a feature in her face that was not handsome, +and yet, collectively, they gave her a look at once forbidding, and +even cruel. + +There was no softening, there never was any softening in Mercy +Lascelles' attitude toward the world now. Years ago she may have given +signs of the gentler emotions of her woman's heart. It is only +reasonable to suppose that at some time or other she possessed them. +But now no one was ever permitted beyond the harsh exterior. Perhaps +she owed the world a grudge. Perhaps she hoped, by closing the doors +of her soul, her attitude would be accepted as the rebuff she intended +to convey. + +"Is that you, Joan?" she demanded in a sharp, masterful tone. + +"It certainly is, auntie," came the gentle, girlish response from the +veranda. + +The next moment the door of the little morning-room opened, and a tall +girl stood framed in its white setting. + +Joan Stanmore possessed nothing whatever in common with her aunt. She +was of that healthy type of American girl that treats athletics as a +large part of her education. She was tall and fair, with a mass of +red-gold hair tucked away under the mannish hat which was part of her +dark green, tightly-fitting riding habit. Her brow was broad, and her +face, a perfect oval, was open and starred with a pair of fearless +blue eyes of so deep a hue as to be almost violet. Her nose and mouth +were delicately moulded, but her greatest beauty lay in the exquisite +peach-bloom of her soft, fair skin. + +Joan Stanmore was probably the handsomest girl in St. Ellis City, in a +suburb of which she and her aunt lived. She was certainly one of the +most popular girls, in spite of the overshadowing threat of an aunt +whom everybody disliked and whom most people feared. Her disposition +was one of serene gentleness, yet as fearless and open as her +beautiful eyes suggested. She was of a strongly independent spirit +too, but, even so, the woman in her was never for a moment jeopardized +by it; she was never anything but a delightful femininity, rejoicing +wholesomely in the companionship of the opposite sex. + +She and her aunt had lived for five years in this suburb of St. Ellis. +They had left New York for the southwest because the profession of +the elder woman had gained unpleasant notoriety in that city of +contradictions. The calling of the seer had appealed well enough to +the citizens individually, but a wave of moral rectitude, hurling its +municipal government spluttering upon a broken shore of repentance, +had decided it to expurgate such wickedness from its midst, lest the +local canker become a pestilence which might jeopardize the immortal +soul of the citizen, and, incidentally, hand the civic control over to +the opposition party. + +So aunt and orphaned niece had moved westward, seeking immunity in a +region where such obscure professions were regarded with a more +lenient eye. Joan had little enough sympathy with her relative's +studies. She neither believed in them, nor did she disbelieve. She was +so young, and so full of that vitality which makes for the wholesome +enjoyment of life, as viewed through eyes as yet undimmed by the +bitterness of experience, that she had neither time, place, nor +serious thought for such matters. Her only interest, if interest it +could be called, was an occasional wonderment at the extent of the +harvest Aunt Mercy reaped out of the credulity of the merchant and +finance-princes of the city. This, and the state of her aunt's health, +as pronounced by Dr. Valmer, were the only things which ever brought +such matters as "crystal gazing" and scientific astrology into her +mind. Otherwise horoscopes, prognostications, warnings, omens, passed +her by as mere words to raise a smile of youthful derision at the +expense of those who heaped money for such readings into the seer's +lap. + +Joan was in no way dependent upon her aunt. Living with her was a +matter of personal choice. Mercy Lascelles was her only relative for +one thing, and the elder woman being a lonely spinster, it seemed only +right that Joan should make her home under her scarcely hospitable +roof. Then, too, there was another reason which influenced the girl. +It was a purely sentimental reason, such as at her age might well +appeal to her. A whisper had reached her to the effect that, hard and +unsympathetic as her Aunt Mercy was, romance at one time had place in +her life--a romance which left her the only sufferer, a romance that +had spelt a life's disaster for her. To the adamantine fortune-teller +was attributed a devotion so strong, so passionate in the days of her +youth that her reason had been well-nigh unhinged by the hopelessness +of it. The object of it was her own sister's husband, Joan's father. +It was said that at the moment of his death Mercy Lascelles' youth +died too. All softness, all gentleness passed out of her life and left +her the hard, prematurely aged woman she now was. + +As a consequence Joan felt that her duty lay beside a woman whom Fate +had treated so ill; that duty demanded that an effort must be made to +bring a little brightness into so solitary and loveless a life. + +So her choice was made. And as she grew accustomed to the stern +companionship she often found herself wondering how a woman of such +curiously harsh disposition could ever have been the victim of such a +passion as was attributed to her. It was almost inconceivable, +especially when she tried to picture the father, whom she had never +known, but who was reputed to be such an intensely human man, so full +of the many frailties of a Wall Street gambler. + +Joan now saw the crystal lying in her aunt's lap. She saw, too, the +fevered eyes lifted to her face. And with an uncomfortable feeling of +disaster pending she moved across to the window-seat and flung herself +upon the pile of down cushions. + +"I do hope you're not--not seeing things again, auntie," she said in +an anxious voice, her eyes fixed resentfully upon the detested +crystal. "You know Dr. Valmer forbade you--practicing for at least six +months," she added warningly. + +"Dr. Valmer's a fool," came the sharp retort. + +The girl flushed. It was not the words: it was the manner that could +so hurt. But this time she felt it her duty to continue. Her aunt's +health was seriously affected, and the doctor had warned her +personally about it. + +"I dare say he is, auntie," she protested. "But you pay him good +dollars for being one. What is the use of it if you don't take his +advice?" + +Just for a second a peculiar look flashed into Mercy's eyes. Then she +allowed them to drop to the crystal in her lap. + +"Go and change your habit. It will keep you busy on your own affairs. +They need all your attention--just now." + +The rudeness left Joan untouched. She was too seriously concerned. + +Mercy Lascelles had only recently recovered from a bad nervous +breakdown, the result, so Dr. Valmer, the specialist, assured her, of +the enormous strain of her studies. He had warned Joan of the danger +to her aunt's mental balance, and begged her to use every effort to +keep her from her practice. But Joan found her task well-nigh +impossible, and the weight of her responsibility was heavy upon her. + +She turned away to the window and gazed out. She was feeling rather +hopeless. There were other things worrying her too, small enough +things, no doubt, but sufficiently personal to trouble her youthful +heart and shadow all her thought with regret. She was rapidly learning +that however bright the outlook of her life might be there were always +clouds hovering ready to obscure the smiling of her sun. + +She looked at the sky as though the movement were inspired by her +thought. There was the early summer sun blazing down upon an already +parching earth. And there, too, were the significant clouds, fleecy +white clouds for the most part, but all deepening to a heavy, gray +density. At any moment they might obscure that ruddy light and pour +out their dismal measure of discomfort, turning the world from a +smiling day-dream to a nightmare of drab regret. + +Her mood lightened as she turned to the picture of the garden city in +which they lived. It was called a garden city, but, more properly, it +was a beautiful garden village, or hamlet. The place was all hills and +dales, wood-clad from their crowns to the deepest hollows in which the +sandy, unmade roads wound their ways. + +Here and there, amidst the perfect sunlit woodlands, she could see the +flashes of white, which indicated homes similar to their own. They +were scattered in a cunningly haphazard fashion so as to preserve the +rural aspect of the place, and constructed on lines that could under +no circumstances offend the really artistic eye. And yet each house +was the last word in modernity; each house represented the +abiding-place of considerable wealth. + +Yes, there was something very beautiful in all this life with which +she was surrounded. The pity of it was that there must be those clouds +always hovering. She glanced up at the sky again. And with a shiver +she realized that the golden light had vanished, and a great +storm-cloud was ominously spreading its purplish pall. + +At that moment her aunt's voice, low and significant, reached her from +across the room. And its tone told her at once that she was talking to +herself. + +"You fool--you poor fool. It awaits you as surely as it awaits +everybody else. Ride on. Your fate awaits you. And thank your God it +is kept hidden from your blinded eyes." + +Joan started. + +"Auntie!" + +A pair of cold, gray eyes lifted to her face. The shaking, bony hands +clutched nervously at the crystal. The eyes stared unseeingly into the +girl's face for some moments, then slowly the fever crept into them +again--the fever which the doctor had warned Joan against. + +"Oh, auntie, put--put that away." Joan sprang from her seat and ran to +the other's side, where she knelt imploringly. "Don't--don't talk so. +You--frighten me." Then she hurried on as though to distract the +woman's attention. "Listen to me. I want to tell you about my ride. I +want to tell about----" + +"You need tell me nothing. I know it all," Mercy broke in, roughly +pushing the clinging hands from about her spare waist. "You rode with +young Sorley this morning--Dick Sorley. He asked you to marry him. He +told you that since he had known you he had made a small fortune on +Wall Street. That he had followed you here because you were the only +woman in the world for him. He told you that life without you was +impossible, and many other foolish things only fitted for the +credulity of a young girl. You refused him. You regretted your refusal +in conventional words. And he rode away, back to his hotel, and--his +fate." + +The girl listened breathlessly, wondering at the accuracy of this +harsh recapitulation of the events of her morning ride. But as the +final words fell from the seer's lips she cried out in protest-- + +"Oh, auntie. His fate? How? How? What do you mean? How do you know all +this?" + +Joan had risen to her feet and stood eyeing her aunt in wonder and +amazement. The elder woman fondled her crystal in her thin hands. A +look akin to joy suddenly leapt into her burning eyes. Her lips were +parted so that they almost smiled. + +"It is here, here. All here," she declared exultingly. "The mandates +of Fate are voiced amongst the stars, and the moving hand delineates +unerringly the enactments--here--here." She raised the crystal and +gazed upon it with eyes alight with ecstasy. "It is for the eye to +see, and for the mind to read. But the brain that comprehends must +know no thought of human passions, no human emotions. There is nothing +hidden in all the world from those who seek with the power of heart +and brain." + +Joan's amazement passed. It was replaced by something like horror and +even terror as she listened. To her the words were dreadful, they +spoke of the woman's straining brain, and her thoughts flew to the +doctor's verdict. Was this the madness he had feared? Was this the +final crash of a brain driven to breaking-point? The questions flew +through her mind only to be swept aside by the recollection of what +her aunt had told her of her morning ride. It was true--true. Every +word of it. Where could the insanity lie? No--no. It could not be. +But--but--such a power! + +Her thoughts were cut short. Again her aunt was speaking. But now her +voice had once more resumed its customary harshness. The fire had died +out of her eyes. Again the dreaded crystal was lying in her lap, +fondled by loving fingers. And something approaching a chuckle of +malice was underlying the words which flowed so rapidly from her thin +lips. + +"Haven't you learned yet? Can't you read what the hand of Fate is +trying to point out to your blinded eyes? Did not the man Cahusac ask +you to marry him? Did not you refuse him? And did not he die of +typhoid within two weeks of committing that foolishness? And Charlie +Hemming. He dared to make love to you. What then? Didn't he make a +fortune on the Cotton Exchange? Didn't he tell you that it was you who +brought him his luck? Luck? Your luck is disaster--disaster disguised. +What happened? Hemming plunged into an orgie of riotous living when +you refused him. Didn't he squander his fortune, bolt to Mexico, and +in twelve months didn't he get shot as a rebel and a renegade, and +thus add himself to the list of the victims of your--so-called +'luck'? Luck! Oh, the madness, the blindness of it!" + +The woman's passionate bitterness had lost all sense of proportion. +She saw only through her straining nerves. And the injustice of it all +brought swift protest to Joan's lips. + +"You are wrong. You are cruel--bitterly, wickedly cruel, auntie," she +cried. "How am I responsible? What have I done?" + +In an instant the gray eyes were turned upon her with something akin +to ferocity, and her voice rang with passion. + +"Wrong? Cruel? I am stating undeniable facts. I am telling you what +has happened. And now I am going to tell you the result of your +morning's ride. How are you responsible? What have you done? Dick +Sorley has gone to his fate as surely as though you had thrust a knife +through his heart." + +"Aunt! How--how dare----?" + +"How dare I say such things? Because I am telling you the truth--which +you cannot bear to face. You must and shall hear it. Who are you to +escape the miseries of life such as we all have to suffer? Such as you +have helped to make _me_ suffer." + +"Don't--don't!" Joan covered her face with her hands, as though to +shut out the sight of that cruel, working face before her--as though +to shut out of her mind the ruthless accusation hurled at her. + +But the seer was full of the bitterness so long stored up in her +heart, and the moment had come when she could no longer contain it +beneath the cold mask she had worn for twenty years. The revelation +was hers. Her strange mind and senses had witnessed the scenes that +now held her in the grip of their horror. They had driven her to the +breaking-point, and no longer had she thought for anything but her own +sufferings, and the injustice that a pariah should walk at large, +unknown to the world, unknown to itself. + +"Don't?" The woman laughed mirthlessly. Her thin lips parted, but the +light in her eyes was unrelenting. "I tell you it is so. Dick Sorley +has gone to his fate. Straight to his doom from your side. You sent +him to it. I have witnessed the whole enactment of it here--in this +crystal. You, and you alone, have killed him--killed him as surely as +though you had deliberately murdered him! Hark! That is the telephone +bell ringing----" + +She paused as the shrill peal of the instrument rang through the room. +There was a prolonged ringing. Then it broke off. Then again and again +it rang, in short, impatient jerks. + +"Go to it, girl. Go and listen to the message. You say I am cruel. +Hear what that senseless thing has to tell you. Listen to the voice at +the other end. It is at the hospital. The doctor is there, and he will +speak to you. And in a ward adjacent, your discarded lover +lies--dead." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OVER THE TELEPHONE + + +From the depths of her high-backed chair Mercy Lascelles stared at the +white door beyond which Joan had just vanished. Her gaunt figure was +no longer huddled over the fateful crystal she still clutched in her +two hands. Her brain was busy, and her eyes were hot and feverish. + +She was not thinking of the girl. She was not even thinking of the +message traveling over the wire at that moment. That she knew. For her +it had no greater significance than that it was the corroboration +necessary to convince the girl who was receiving it--to convince her +of the truth of that which she had charged her with. + +Her mind was far away, back in the dim years of her earlier womanhood. +Back amidst scenes of disaster through which she had long since +passed. All the old pain and suffering was at the surface again. Again +was she torn by the bitterness and injustice that had robbed her of +all that seemed good to her in life. Again through her mental picture +moved the figures of two men and one woman, the characters who went to +make up the cast of her wretched drama. Her feelings were once more +afire with hatred, hatred for one, and, for the others, a profound, +contemptuous bitterness. + +But hatred was dominant. The memory of one of those men had always +power to drive her to the verge of madness. He was a handsome, +brown-haired man of powerful physique. A man whose gentle manner and +swift, hot temper she abhorred, and the memory of whose influence upon +her life had still power to grind to ashes every gentle feeling she +ever possessed. + +It was of one of his terrible tempers she was thinking now. He had +displayed a fury she could never, would never forget. It was a memory +that tripped her even now at every turn, till it had become something +akin to an obsession. + +Every detail of the scene was as clear cut in her mind as a hideous +cameo, every word he had uttered, the accusations, the insinuations he +had made. Even the room, with its simple furnishings, its neatness, +its air of care--her care--stood out sharply in her memory. She +remembered it all so well. She was in the midst of preparing Charles +Stanmore's supper, and Joan, only a couple of weeks old, was fast +asleep in an adjoining bedroom. He had chosen this time to call, +because he knew that she, Mercy, would be alone. + +She remembered his handsome face clouded with sullen anger and +jealousy when she let him in at the door of the apartment. And then +his first words when he took up his position before the hard-coal +stove in the parlor-- + +"So you've pitched everything to the devil, and taken up your abode +with Charlie," he began, in tones of jealous fury. "And he--he is your +brother-in-law." + +There was no mistaking his meaning. He intended that she should make +no mistake, for he added a laugh--a hateful laugh--to his words. + +This was the man who had asked her to marry him almost numberless +times. This was the man whom she had refused time and again, making it +plain that, however hopelessly, her love was given to another. This +was the man who knew that she had come at her sister's death to care +for the little, new-born, motherless, baby girl, and help the man whom +she had always loved out of the hopeless dilemma in which he found +himself. This was the man who was the lifelong friend of Charles +Stanmore, whose mistress he was accusing her of having become. + +She remembered the sudden anger which leapt to her brain. She +remembered, too, the thought which came in its midst, and formulated +her instant retort. + +"Yes," she said coldly. "I have." + +Then she saw the real man as she had now come to regard him. She +remembered the sudden blaze of his eyes, the ghastly pallor of his +face, the look of almost insane jealousy which he turned upon her. And +then came that never-to-be-forgotten insult, those words which had +seared themselves upon her woman's heart as though branded thereon +with red-hot irons. + +"And you are the woman I have loved. Woman?" He laughed. "It's too +good for you. Do you know what we men call such creatures as you? All +this time you have waited--waited, and the moment your poor sister is +in her grave, almost before the blood in her veins is cold, you seize +your opportunity to fulfil your mad desire. Taking advantage of +Charlie's wretchedness and trouble, you force yourself upon him. You +force a position upon him from which there is no escape. The world +will accept the position at the value you intend, and he is powerless +to do anything but accept it too. You meant to have him, and I suppose +he is yours by now. And all this time I have wasted an honest love on +you--you----" + +And she had answered him, calmly and deliberately, before he could +utter the filthy epithet she knew he intended. + +"Please keep your voice down, or--or you'll wake little Joan." + +Even now she could never quite understand her own attitude at the +moment. Something inside her was urging her to fly at his throat and +tear the foul words from it. Yet there was something gripping her, +something compelling her to a calmness she was powerless to resist. + +Then, as swiftly as he had blazed into fury, had come a miraculous +change in the man. Perhaps it was the effect of her calm, perhaps it +was something in the man himself. Anyway the madness abruptly died out +of his eyes and left him shaking. He strove to speak, but no words +came. He passed his hand across his forehead as though to remove +something that was clouding his brain. He turned from her fixed stare +as though he could no longer support it. He moved across the room. He +hesitated. He turned to her. She did not see the movement, for her +back was now turned, but somehow she felt it. + +Then she heard his footsteps again, and, finally, the rattle of the +door handle as he clutched it. After that came his voice. All the +anger, the jealousy, had gone out of it. It was low, gentle, +imploring. But she did not move. + +"Mercy, Mercy! For--forgive me. I----" + +"Never!" + +Oh, the scorn, the hatred she had flung into the word! + +The next she remembered was that he passed swiftly and silently from +the room. Then, then at last her woman's weakness, a weakness she now +so cordially despised, overcame her, and she fell into a chair and +wept. + +But her weakness was short-lived. Her spirit rose in rebellion, and +her tears ceased to flow as the cruel iron entered her soul. She +pondered long and deeply, and presently she went on with her +preparations for Charles Stanmore's supper as though nothing unusual +had occurred. + +Nor, when he came home, did she tell him, nor did she ever by word or +act permit the secret of that interview to pass out of her keeping. +But the memory of it was forever with her. Day and night she hugged it +to herself, she nursed it, and fostered it for all those twenty years, +the bitterness, the cruel injustice of the insult, grinding its way +till it became a part of the very essence of her being. + +Suddenly a cry broke in upon her reverie. She started, and her eyes +lit with a gleam of satisfaction. Her mind had returned to the +present, and she called out-- + +"Joan!" + +Without waiting for an answer she left her seat, and, crossing swiftly +to the door, flung it wide open. + +Joan staggered in, and, dropping into the welcoming arms of a +rocking-chair, she buried her face in her hands. + +Mercy Lascelles stood silently contemplating the bowed head. There was +no sympathy in her attitude. Her heart was cold and hard as steel. But +she was interested in the cause rather than the effect. + +After a while the storm of grief slackened. The racking sobs came at +longer intervals. Then it was that Mercy Lascelles broke the silence. + +"Well?" she demanded sharply. + +The tear-stained face was slowly lifted, and the sight of the girl's +distress was heart-breaking. + +"He is dead," Joan said in a choking voice. Then, with something like +resentment--"Are--are you satisfied?" + +Mercy went back to her chair and her beloved crystal. And after a +moment she began to speak in a low, even tone, as though reciting a +well-learnt lesson. + +"It was at the crossing of 36th Street and Lisson Avenue, here the +street cars cross, here some also turn off. It was the fault of his +horse. The creature shied at a heavy truck. Two cars were approaching +from east and west. The shying horse slipped on the granite paving, +fell, and was caught between the two meeting cars before they could +pull up. The horse was killed on the spot, and--the rider was----" + +"Don't, auntie! Don't say it! Yes, yes, he was taken to the hospital, +and died of his injuries. But don't speak of his terrible mutilations. +I--I can't bear it." + +Again Joan buried her face in her hands as though to shut out the +horror of it all. But the elder woman had no such scruples. + +"Why harrow yourself with the picture?" she demanded brusquely. +"Imagination can add nothing to the fact. Tears will not change one +detail. They will only add to your distress. Dick Sorley left your +side to go to certain death. Nothing could have averted that. Such was +his fate--through you." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE PARIAH + + +Joan suddenly threw up her head. There was resentment in the violet +depths of her eyes, and her whole expression had hardened. It was as +though something of her youth, her softness, had passed from her. + +"You must tell me, auntie," she demanded in a tone as cold as the +other's. "I--I don't understand. But I mean to. You accuse me with the +responsibility of--this. Of responsibility for all that has happened +to those others. You tell me I am cursed. It is all too much--or too +little. Now I demand to know that which you know--all that there is to +know. It is my right. I never knew my father or mother, and you have +told me little enough of them. Well, I insist that you shall tell me +the right by which you dare to say such things to me. I know you are +cruel, that you have no sympathy for any one but--yourself. I know +that you grudge the world every moment of happiness that life +contains. Well, all this I try to account for by crediting you with +having passed through troubles of which I have no knowledge. But it +does not give you the right to charge me with the things you do. You +shall tell me now the reason of your accusations, or I will leave this +home forever, and will never, of my own free will, set eyes on you +again." + +Mercy's thin lips parted into a half-smile. + +"And I intend that you shall know these things," she replied promptly. +"You shall know them from my lips. Nor has any one more right to the +telling than I." The smile died abruptly, leaving her burning eyes +shining in an icy setting. "I am cruel, eh?" she went on intensely. +"Cruel because I have refused to bend beneath the injustice of my +fellows and the persecutions of Fate. Cruel because I meet the world +in the spirit in which it has received me. Why should I have sympathy? +The world has robbed me of the only happiness I ever desired. What +obligation, then, is mine? You are right. I have no sympathy for any +living creature--none!" + +Joan offered no comment. She was waiting--waiting for the explanation +she had demanded. She was no longer the young girl just returned +flushed with the healthy glow of her morning ride. Life had taken on a +fresh tone for her since then. It seemed as if years had suddenly +passed over her head and carried her into the middle of life. + +"You shall have your explanation," Mercy went on after a moment's +pause. "I will give it you from the beginning. I will show you how it +comes that you are a pariah, shedding disaster upon all men who come +under your influence." + +"A pariah!" + +Joan's eyes suddenly lit with horror at the loathsome epithet. + +"Yes. Pariah!" There was no mistaking the satisfaction which the use +of the word seemed to give the other woman. In her eyes was a +challenge which defied all protest. + +As Joan had no further comment she went on-- + +"But they were all blind--blind to the curse under which you were +born--under which you live. You shall have your wish. You shall know +the right which I have for charging these things at your door. And the +knowledge of it will forever shatter the last castle of your +day-dreams." + +Something of awe took hold of the listening girl. Something of terror, +too. What was the mystery into which she was blindly delving? Knowing +her aunt as she did, she felt, by her manner, that her words were the +prelude to disclosures that meant disaster to herself. And as the +other proceeded her half-frightened eyes watched her, fascinated by +the deliberateness of manner and the passionate sincerity underlying +every word of the story she told. + +"Listen," she said, checking her voice to a low, even monotone. "You +are the child of disaster if ever woman was. Your father was a poor, +weak fool, a big, handsome, good-hearted fool whom Nature had endowed +with nothing more than a perfect exterior. He was a Wall Street man, +of a sort. One of those gamblers who live on the fringe of the big +financial circles, and most of whom gather their livelihood from the +crumbs falling from the rich man's table, but are ready to steal them +when the fall is not sufficient to fill their hungry mouths. For three +years he and I were engaged to be married." + +She paused, and her hot eyes dropped to the crystal in her lap. Then +she went on, with harsh sarcasm breaking the level of her tone-- + +"For three years we waited for the coming of that trifling luck which +would enable us to marry. For three years I worked silently, joyfully, +to fill the wonderful bottom drawer which never failed to inspire me +with courage and hope. You see I--loved your father." + +Again she paused, and Joan forgot something of her own trouble as she +noted the evident pain these memories gave to her aunt. + +"The luck came. It was small enough. But with the little money I had +it was just sufficient. The license was procured. The wedding was +fixed. And I--well, God was good, the world was good, and life was a +joy beyond all dreams. You see I, too, was young then. My only +relative was a younger sister. She was a beautiful girl with red-gold +hair. And she was in business in California. I sent for her to come to +the wedding." + +Joan gave a tense sigh. She knew what was to follow. The red-gold hair +told its own story. Mercy Lascelles raised a pair of stony eyes, and +her thin lips were smiling. + +"I can see you understand," she said, without emotion. "Yes, she came, +and she stole your father from me. Oh, yes! she was handsome enough to +steal any man. She was even more beautiful than you are. It was just +before we were to be married. Less than a week. A good time to steal +him from me--after three years of waiting." She laughed bitterly. "She +stole him, and I--I cursed her. Oh, I didn't cry out! I simply cursed +her, I cursed her offspring, and burned every garment I had made or +bought for the wedding in my parlor stove. I sat by and watched the +fire as it hungrily devoured each record of my foolish day-dreams. And +as each one vanished in cinder and smoke I cursed her from the very +bottom of my heart." + +The woman laughed again, and Joan could not repress a shudder at the +sound. + +"Twelve months she had of him. And during those twelve months both he +and she nearly drove me mad in their efforts to make me marry your +father's great friend and fellow gambler. His name doesn't matter. He +was a brown-haired creature, who was, if possible, a greater gambler +than your father. But unlike your father his luck was phenomenal. He +grew rich whilst Charles Stanmore, with every passing week, grew +poorer. And for twelve long months he persecuted me with his +attentions. He never left me alone. I sometimes think he was crazy in +his desire to marry me. He knew the whole of my wretched story, yet it +made no difference. He swore to me in his mildly deliberate way that I +should marry him. Perhaps I ought to have read the real character of +the man underlying his gentle manner, but, poor fool that I was, I +didn't. It was left to later events to open my eyes, events which were +to teach me that under the guise of friendship he hated Charles +Stanmore, because--because, in spite of everything, I still loved him. + +"At the end of those twelve months my cup of bitterness was filled to +overflowing. You were born. You, with your deep-blue eyes and red-gold +hair. You, Charles Stanmore's child--but not mine." + +Her voice died out, and Joan understood something of the passion in +this strange woman's soul. But the next moment a hard laugh jarred her +nerves. It was a laugh that had no mirth. Only was it an audible +expression designed to disguise real feelings. + +"Oh, I had no grudge against you. You--you with your crumpled face and +big blue eyes. You could make no difference to my life as I saw it. +And yet you did." The woman's fingers suddenly clutched the crystal in +her lap with a force that left the thin tips of them white and +bloodless. "You did. A difference that in my maddest dreams I could +never have hoped for. You brought with you the curse of disaster from +which there was no escape for those to whom you belonged. + +"I can see it all now," she went on exultingly. "I can see it as I saw +it then, every detail of it. Your father's gambling had brought him +down to something like want. A week before you were born his home was +sold up, and he and your mother took shelter in a tiny three-roomed +apartment for which they had no money to pay the rent. In desperation +he came to _me_--to _me_ for help. And I gave it him. The day before +you were born I gave him the money for the expenses of your birth and +to tide him over for three months. It was almost all I had in the +world." Again came that mirthless laugh. Then she hurried on. "But the +temptation was too much for Charles Stanmore, gambler that he was. He +suddenly found himself with money in his pocket and hope in his +foolish soul. There was a big wheat operation going on at the moment, +and every penny of the money, along with all the credit he could +procure, he plunged into it." + +"And lost it all?" Joan whispered. + +The other shook her head. + +"No. The influence of your strange fate was at work. On the day that +you saw light Charles Stanmore was a comparatively rich man. And your +mother--was dead." + +Joan breathed a deep sigh. + +"Yes, wheat went up by leaps and bounds, and your father was delirious +with joy. He stood over you--I can see him now--and talked at you in +his foolish, extravagant way. 'You're the brightest, happiest, +luckiest little hoodlam that ever came into the world,' he cried. 'And +your name is "Golden," my little Golden Woman, for if ever there was +a golden kiddie in the world you are she. Gold? Why, you've showered +it on me. Luck? Why, I verily believe if you'd been around you'd +have brought luck to Jonah when he got mixed up with the whale's +internals.' And then, just as he finished, the bolt fell. The doctor +came in from the next room and took him aside. Your mother was dead." + +A sob broke from the listening girl, a great sob of sympathy for the +kindly, weak, irresponsible father she had never known. + +"Your father's disaster looked like my blessing. I had no regrets for +the woman," Mercy went on. "He was mine now by every right. The thief +had come by her reckoning. So I seized the opportunity that was thrust +in my way. Mine was the right to care for him and help him in his +trouble, nor have I shame in saying that I took it. + +"But the curse of your life was working full and sure. But for your +existence I should never have taken that step. But for that step other +matters would never have occurred. When your father's--friend +discovered what I had done his fury knew no bounds. His insults were +unforgettable--at least by me. But I persisted. For a great hope was +at work within me that now your mother was gone eventually Charles +Stanmore might come back to his allegiance, and I might step into her +place. It was a foolish hope, but--I loved your father. + +"Bah!" she went on impatiently. "It is no use raking amongst those +ashes. The details don't matter to you. Those things are dead. And +only is their effect alive to-day. My hopes were never to be +fulfilled. How should they be with the curse of your father's golden +girl involving us all in disaster. Let me cut the wretched history as +short as I can. At first money was plentiful enough, and luck in that +direction seemed to border on the marvelous. To give you an instance +your father--imbecile that he was--swore he would test it in your own +interests. He hunted round till he found the most hair-brained, +wildcat company ever floated for the purpose of robbing moneyed fools, +and invested ten thousand dollars in it as a life-dowry for you. It +was the joke of all his gambling friends. It was like pitching dollar +bills into the Hudson. And then in a month the miraculous happened. +After a struggle the company boomed, and you were left with a +competence for life. Yes, at first money was plentiful enough, but +your father never got over his shock of your mother's death. Sometimes +I used to think his brain was weakening. Anyway, he plunged into a +wild vortex of gambling. He drank heavily, and indulged himself in +excesses from which he had always kept clear up to that time. He took +to cards in a manner that frightened even me, used as I was to his +weaknesses. And in all these things his friend encouraged and indulged +him. + +"The end was not far off. How could it be? Your father's luck waned +and his debauches increased. He grew nervous and worried. But he +persisted in his mode of life. Then, in a little while, I knew that he +was borrowing. He never touched your money. But he was borrowing +heavily. This man whom I had come to regard as his evil genius +undoubtedly lent him money--much money. Then came a particularly bad +time. For two days Charles Stanmore went about like a madman. What the +trouble was I never knew--except that it was a question of money. And +this terminated in the night of disaster toward which everything had +been driving." + +Mercy Lascelles' voice dropped to a low, ominous pitch, and she paused +as though to draw all the threads of memory into one firm grasp. Her +look, too, changed. But it was a change quite unnoticed by Joan. + +"It was one night in the apartment. I had gone to bed. They, your +father and his--friend, were in the parlor. They had quarreled during +the evening over some money affairs which I did not understand. Your +father was headstrong, as he always was, and the other, well, he +rarely raised his voice--he was one of those quiet men who disguise +their purposes under a calm atmosphere--as a rule. However, on this +occasion high words had passed, and I knew that stormy feelings were +underlying the calm which finally ensued. At last, when they sat down +to a heavy game of baccarat, I crept away to bed. + +"I don't know how long I had been in bed when it happened. I know I +was asleep, for I wakened suddenly with a great sense of shock, and +sat up trying to realize what had happened. It took me some moments. I +know my mind ran over a dozen things before I decided what to do. I +remembered that we were alone in the place. The servants had been +dismissed more than a week before. There was only you, and your +father, and me in the place. Then I remembered that his friend was +there, and I had left them playing cards. Instantly I got out of bed. +I slipped on a dressing-gown and crept out into the passage. I moved +silently toward the door of the sitting-room. It was wide open. I had +left it shut. The gas was full on. I reached the door and cautiously +peered in. But there was no need for caution. Your father had fallen +forward in his chair, and lay with his head, face downward, upon the +table. He was dead and--the other had gone. I ran to the dead man's +side and raised him up. It was too late. All--all I had or cared for +in the world had been taken from me by the hand of the murderer." + +"Murdered?" Joan whispered in horrified tones. + +"Yes, murdered!" came the swift, vehement retort. "Shot--shot through +the heart, and in the stomach--and his murderer had fled. Oh, God, +shall I ever forget that moment!" + +The woman fell back in her chair, her whole withered body shaking with +emotion. Then with an effort she pulled herself together and went on +more calmly-- + +"I hardly know what I did. All I remember is that I gave the alarm, +and presently had the police there. I told them all I could, and gave +the name and description of--the man who had done the deed. But it was +useless. He had gone--bolted. Nor was he ever seen or heard of again. +The curse had worked out. You, your father's golden girl, were left +orphaned to the care of the woman to whom your very existence was an +ineradicable wrong, and who, through your coming, had been robbed of +all that made life possible." + +She raised her crystal and held it poised on the gathered finger-tips +of one hand. And when she spoke again her voice had gained strength +and tone. + +"Since those days I have learnt to read the words that are written by +the hand of Fate. And here--here is the open book. It is all here. The +storm of disaster that brought you into the world will dog your +footsteps. You are cursed with the luck that leads to disaster. +Wherever you go men will bless your name, and, almost in the same +breath, their blessings shall turn to the direst curses. It is not I +who am speaking. My tongue utters the words, but the writing of Fate +has been set forth for me to interpret. Wherever you go, wherever you +be, you cannot escape the destiny set out for you. I tell you you are +a leper, a pariah, whom all men, for their own safeguarding, must +shun." + +All through the final pronouncement Joan sat transfixed with horror. A +leper! A pariah! Nor, in the light of those things which to her own +knowledge had happened, could she doubt the hideous denunciation. She +had heard and understood that ill-luck could and did pursue its +victims. But this! Oh, it was too terrible--too cruel! For an instant +she thought of the doctor and his words of warning. But one glance at +the bowed figure, again intent upon her crystal, and the thought +passed. The story she had listened to was too real, too full of those +things which had driven her poor aunt to her present unyielding +attitude toward the world to be the ravings of an insane mind. And +suddenly panic gripped her, that panic which, in a moment of weakness, +so easily tends toward self-destruction. + +"Is--is there no hope, auntie?" she asked helplessly. + +Mercy Lascelles looked up from the crystal. She eyed her niece +steadily, as though to read all there was hidden behind the desperate +blue eyes. + +Slowly she shook her head. + +Again came that spasm of panic, and Joan seemed to hurl her whole +young strength into denial. + +"But there is. There must be," she cried, with a fierceness that held +the other in something like astonishment. "There must be," she +reiterated desperately. "No God could be so cruel--so--so wicked. +What have I done to deserve this? The injustice is demoniacal. Far +better go and throw myself before a passing train than live to carry +such a pestilence with me wherever I go through life. If you can read +these things--read on. Read on and tell me, for I swear that I will +not live with this curse forever tied about my neck." + +"You will live--you must live. It is written here." Mercy pointed at +the crystal. Then she laughed her cold, mirthless laugh. "There was +one power that served me, that helped me to save my reason through all +those early days. God knows how it may help you--for I can't see. I +loved your father with a passion nothing, no disaster could destroy. I +loved him so that I could crush every other feeling down, subservient +to my passion. Go you, child, and find such a love. Go you and find a +love so strong that no disaster can kill it. And maybe life may still +have some compensations for you, maybe it will lift the curse from +your suffering shoulders. It--it is the only thing in the world that +is stronger than disaster. It is the only thing in the world that is +stronger than--death." + +Joan had no answer. She stared straight ahead of her, focusing some +trifling detail of the pattern on the wall paper. Her face was +stony--stony as the face of the woman who was watching her. The +moments passed rapidly. A minute passed, and neither spoke. + +Then at last the girl abruptly rose from her seat. Almost mechanically +she moved over to a mirror, and, removing her hat, deftly patted her +beautiful hair till it assumed its wonted appearance. And quite +suddenly she turned about. + +"I have nearly fifty thousand dollars, auntie. I am going to realize +that capital. I am going to leave this house--I am going to leave it +forever. I shall change my name, and cover up my tracks, for I intend +going where I am not known. I am going where men cannot figure in my +life, which I intend to begin all over again. The burden Fate has +imposed upon me is too great. I am going to run from it." + +She laughed. And her laugh was as mirthless as her aunt's had been. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TWO MEN OF THE WILDERNESS + + +The westering sun was drooping heavily toward its fiery couch. The +purple of evening was deepening from the east, meeting and blending +softly with the gold of the dying day. A great furnace of ruddy cloud +rose above the mountain-tops, lighting the eternal snows of the peaks +and ancient glaciers with a wealth of kaleidoscopic color. Viewed from +the plains below there might have been a great fire raging among the +hill-caps, where only snow and ice could provide the fuel. + +The radiant colors of sunset held the quiet eyes of a solitary +horseman riding amidst the broken lands of the lesser foot-hills. He +was a big man, of powerful shoulders and stout limbs. He was a man of +fifty or thereabouts, yet his hair was snow white, a perfect mane that +reached low upon his neck, touching the soft collar of his cotton +shirt. His face was calm with something of the peace of the world +through which he was riding, something of the peace which comes to +those who have abandoned forever the strife of the busy life beyond. +It only needed the garb of the priest, and his appearance would have +matched perfectly his sobriquet, "the Padre." + +But Moreton Kenyon was clad in the rough moleskin, the riding boots +and general make-up of the western life to which he belonged. Even he +carried the protecting firearms by which to administer the personal +laws of the wilderness. His whole appearance, the very horse under +him, a prairie-bred broncho of excellent blood, suggested a man who +knew the life amidst which he lived, and was more than capable of +surviving it. + +Whatever his appearance, whatever his capacity for the rougher corners +of earth, Moreton Kenyon was a man of great kindliness, of great +sympathy, as the mission from which he was now returning might well +have testified. Those who knew him best held him in deep affection. +Those who knew him less withheld their judgment, but never failed to +treat him with a courtesy not usual amongst the derelicts of an +out-world camp. + +Just now something of the smallness of human life, of human aims and +efforts, of human emotions, was occupying the busy brain behind his +reflective eyes. The scene before him, upon which he had so often +looked, never failed to remind him of the greatness of that which lay +beyond the ken of man. Somehow it exalted his thoughts to planes to +which no association with his kind could ever have exalted them. It +never failed to inspire him with a reverence for the infinity of power +which crowned the glory of creation, and reduced self to a humble +realization of its atomic place in the great scheme of the Creator. + +His horse ambled easily over the ribbon-like trail, which seemed to +rise out of the eastern horizon from nowhere, and lose itself +somewhere ahead, amidst the dark masses of forest-crowned hills. The +journey was nearly over. Somewhere ahead lay the stable, which could +be reached at leisure in the cool of the evening, and neither master +nor beast seemed to feel the need for undue haste. + +As the light slowly faded out and left the snow-white hill-crests drab +with the gray of twilight, the man's mind reverted to those things +which had sent him on his journey. Many doubts had assailed him by the +way, doubts which set him debating with himself, but which rarely made +him turn from a purpose his mind was once set upon. He knew that his +action involved more than his own personal welfare, and herein had +lain the source of his doubt. But he had clearly argued every point +with himself, and through it all had felt the rightness of his +purpose. + +Then, too, he had had the support of that other with whom he was +concerned. And he smiled as he thought of the night when his decision +had been taken. Even now the picture remained in his mind of the eager +face of his youthful protégé as they discussed the matter. The younger +man had urged vehemently, protesting at every objection, that they two +had no right to live in comparative comfort with women and children +starving about them. + +He remembered young Buck's eager eyes, large dark-brown eyes that +could light with sudden, almost volcanic heat, or smile their soft, +lazy smile of amusement at the quaintnesses of life about him. The +Padre understood the largeness of heart, the courage which urged him, +the singleness of purpose which was always his. Then, when their +decision had been taken, he remembered the abrupt falling back of the +man into the quiet, almost monosyllabic manner which usually belonged +to him. + +Yes, Buck was a good lad. + +The thought carried him back to days long gone by, to a time when a +lad of something less than eight years, clad in the stained and worn +garb of a prairie juvenile, his feet torn and bleeding, his large +brown eyes staring out of gaunt, hungry sockets, his thin, pinched, +sunburnt face drawn by the ravages of starvation, had cheerfully +hailed him from beneath the shelter of a trail-side bush. + +That was nearly twenty years ago, but every detail of the meeting was +still fresh in his memory. His horse had shied at the sudden +challenge. He remembered he had thrashed the creature with his spurs. +And promptly had come the youthful protest. + +"Say, you needn't to lick him, mister," the boy piped in his thin +treble. "Guess he'll stand if you talk to him." + +Strangely enough the man had almost unconsciously obeyed the mandate. +And the memory of it made him smile now. Then had followed a dialogue, +which even now had power to stir every sympathy of his heart. He +started by casually questioning the starving apparition. + +"Where you from, sonny?" he asked. + +And with that unequivocal directness, which, after twenty years, still +remained with him, the boy flung out a thin arm in the direction of +the eastern horizon. + +"Back ther', mister." + +The natural sequence was to ask him whither he was bound, and his +answer came with a similar gesture with his other hand westward. + +"Yonder." + +"But--but who're your folks? Where are they?" the Padre had next +hazarded. And a world of desolation was contained in the lad's +half-tearful reply-- + +"Guess I ain't got none. Pop an' ma's dead. Our farm was burnt right +out. Y' see there was a prairie fire. It was at night, an' we was +abed. Pop got me out, an' went back for ma. I never see him agin. I +never see ma. An' ther' wa'an't no farm left. Guess they're sure +dead." + +He fought the tears back manfully, in a way that set the Padre +marveling at his courage. + +After a moment he continued his interrogation. + +"What's your name?" he asked. + +"Buck," came the frank response. + +"Buck--what?" + +"Buck--jest plain, mister." + +"But your father's name--what was that?" + +"Pop." + +"Yes, yes. That's what you called him. What did the folks call him?" + +"Ther' wa'an't no folks. Jest pop, an' ma, an' me." + +A great lump had risen in the man's throat as he looked down into +those honest, hungry eyes. And for a moment he was at a loss. But the +boy solved his dilemma in a way that proved the man in after-life. + +"Say, you ain't a farmer?" he inquired, with a speculative glance over +his general outfit. + +"Well, I am--in a small way," the Padre had replied, with a +half-smile. + +The boy brightened at once. + +"Then mebbe you can give me a job--I'm lookin' for a job." + +The wonder of it all brought a great smile of sympathy to the +man's eyes now, as he thought of that little starving lad of eight +years old, homeless, wandering amidst the vastness of all that +world--looking for a "job." It was stupendous, and he had sat +marveling until the lad brought him back to the business in hand. + +"Y' see I kin milk--an'--an' do chores around. Guess I can't plough +yet. Pop allus said I was too little. But mebbe I kin grow--later. +I--I don't want no wages--on'y food. Guess I'm kind o' hungry, +mister." + +Nor, for a moment, could the man make any reply. The pathos of it all +held him in its grip. He leant over and groped in his saddle-bag for +the "hardtack" biscuits he always carried, and passed the lad a +handful. + +He remembered how the boy snatched the rough food from his hands. +There was something almost animal in the way he crammed his mouth +full, and nearly choked himself in his efforts to appease the craving +of his small, empty stomach. In those moments the man's mind was made +up. He watched in silence while the biscuit vanished. Then he carried +out his purpose. + +"You can have a job," he said. "I've only a small farm, but you can +come and help me with it." + +"Do you mean that, mister?" the boy asked, almost incredulously. + +Then, as the Padre had nodded, a sigh of thankfulness escaped the +young lips, which were still covered with the crumbs of his recent +meal. + +"Say, I'm glad. Y' see I was gettin' tired. An' ther' didn't seem to +be no farms around--nor nuthin'. An' it's lonesome, too, at nights, +lyin' around." + +The man's heart ached. He could stand no more of it. + +"How long have you been sleeping--out?" + +"Three nights, mister." + +Suddenly the Padre reached out a hand. + +"Here, catch hold, and jump." + +The boy caught the strong hand, and was promptly swung up into the +saddle behind his benefactor. The next moment they were speeding back +over the trail to the lad's new home. Nor was the new-born hope solely +beating in the starving child's heart. The lonely farmer felt that +somehow the day was brighter, and the green earth more beautiful--for +that meeting. + +Such had been the coming together of these two, and through all the +long years of weary toil since then they still remained together, +working shoulder to shoulder in a relationship that soon became +something like that of father and son. The Padre remained the +farmer--in a small way. But the boy--well, as had been prophesied by +his dead father, later on he grew big enough to plough the furrows of +life with a strong and sure hand. + +The man's reflections were broken into abruptly. The time and distance +had passed more rapidly than he was aware of. The eager animal under +him raised its head, and, pricking its small ears and pulling heavily +on the reins, increased its pace to a gallop. Then it was that the +Padre became suddenly aware that the home stretch had been reached, +and before him lay a long, straight decline in the trail which split a +dense pine-wood bluff of considerable extent. + + * * * * * + +A man was lounging astride of a fallen pine log. His lean shoulders +were propped against the parent stump. All about him were other stumps +left by those who had made the clearing in the woods. Beyond this the +shadowy deep of the woods ranged on every side, except where the red +sand of a trail broke the monotony of tone. + +Near by two horses stood tethered together by a leading rein. One was +a saddle-horse, and the other was equipped with a well-loaded +pack-saddle. It was no mean burden of provisions. The carcass of a +large, black-tailed deer sprawled across the back of the saddle, while +on one side were secured three bags of flour, and on the other +several jack-rabbits were strung together. But the powerful beast +remained unconcernedly nibbling at the sparse green peeping here and +there through the carpet of rotting pine cones and needles which +covered the ground. + +The man's eyes were half-closed, yet he was by no means drowsing. On +the contrary, his mind was essentially busy, and the occasional +puckering of his dark brows, and the tightening of his strong jaws, +suggested that his thoughts were not always pleasant. + +After a while he sat up. But his movement was only the restlessness +caused by the worry of his thought. And the gaze he turned upon his +foraging horses was quite preoccupied. + +A change, however, was not long in coming. Simultaneously both horses +threw up their heads, and one of them gave a sharp, comprehensive +snort. Instantly the man's large brown eyes lit, and a pleasant +expectancy shone in their depths. He was on his feet in an instant, +and his tall figure became alert and vibrant with the lithe activity +which was so wonderfully displayed in his whole poise. He, too, had +become aware of a disturbing element in the silent depths of the +woods. + +He moved across to the trail, and, glancing down it, from out of the +silence reached him the distant, soft plod of hoofs in its heavy +covering of sand. His look of satisfaction deepened as he turned back +to his horses and tightened the cinchas of the saddles, and replaced +the bits in their mouths. Then he picked up the Winchester rifle +propped against a tree stump and turned again to the trail. + +A moment later another horseman appeared from beyond the fringe of +pines and drew up with an exclamation. + +"Why, Buck, I didn't reckon to find you around here!" he cried +cordially. + +"No." The young man smiled quietly up into the horseman's face. The +welcome of his look was unmistakable. No words of his could have +expressed it better. + +The Padre sprang from his saddle with the lightness of a man of half +his years, and his eyes rested on the pack-saddle on Buck's second +horse. + +"For the--folks?" he inquired. + +"Guess so. That's the last of the flour." + +For a moment a shadow passed across the Padre's face. Then it as +suddenly brightened. + +"How's things?" he demanded, in the stereotyped fashion of men who +greet when matters of importance must be discussed between them. + +"So," responded Buck. + +The Padre glanced quickly round, and his eyes fell on the log which +had provided the other with a seat. + +"Guess there's no hurry. Let's sit," he said, indicating the log. "I'm +a bit saddle weary." + +Buck nodded. + +They left the horses to their own devices, and moved across to the +log. + +"Quite a piece to Leeson Butte," observed Buck casually, as he dropped +upon the log beside his friend. + +"It surely is," replied the Padre, taking the young man in with a +quick, sidelong glance. + +Buck was good to look at, so strong, so calmly reliant. Every glance +of his big brown eyes suggested latent power. He was not strikingly +handsome, but the pronounced nose, the level, wide brows, the firm +mouth and clean-shaven chin, lifted him far out of the common. He was +clad simply. But his dress was perfectly suitable to the life of the +farmer-hunter which was his. His white moleskin trousers were tucked +into the tops of his Wellington boots, and a cartridge belt, from +which hung a revolver and holster, was slung about his waist. His +upper covering was a simple, gray flannel shirt, gaping wide open +across his sunburnt chest, and his modest-hued silk handkerchief tied +loosely about his neck. + +"Leeson Butte's getting quite a city," Buck went on presently. + +"That's so," replied the Padre, still bent upon his own thoughts. + +After that it was quite a minute before either spoke. Yet there seemed +to be no awkwardness. + +Finally it was the Padre who broached the matters that lay between +them. + +"I got ten thousand dollars for it!" he said. + +"The farm?" Buck's interrogation was purely mechanical. He knew well +enough that the other had purposely gone to Leeson Butte to sell the +farm on which they had both lived so long. + +The Padre nodded. + +"A fancy price," he said. "The lawyers closed quick. It was a woman +bought it. I didn't see her, though she was stopping at the hotel. I +figured on getting seven thousand five hundred dollars, and only asked +ten thousand dollars as a start. Guess the woman must have wanted it +bad. Maybe she's heard they're prospecting gold around. Well, anyway +she ought to get some luck with it, she's made it easy for us to help +the folks." + +Buck's eyes were steadily fixed on the horses. + +"It makes me feel bad seeing those fellers chasin' gold, and never a +color to show--an' all the while their womenfolk an' kiddies that thin +for food you can most see their shadows through 'em." + +The eyes of the elder man brightened. The other's words had helped to +hearten him. He had felt keenly the parting with his farm after all +those years of labor and association. Yet, to a mind such as his, it +had been impossible to do otherwise. How could he stand by watching a +small community, such as he was surrounded with, however misguided in +their search for gold, painfully and doggedly starving before his very +eyes? For the men perhaps his sympathy might have been less keen, but +the poor, long-suffering women and the helpless children--the thought +was too painful. No, he and Buck had but their two selves to think of. +They had powerful hands with which to help themselves. Those others +were helpless--the women and children. + +There was compensation in his sacrifice when he remembered the large +orders for edible stores he had placed with the merchants of Leeson +Butte before leaving that town. + +"There's a heap of food coming along for them presently," he said +after a pause. + +Buck nodded. + +"I've been settin' that old fur fort to rights, way up in the hills +back ther'," he said, pointing vaguely behind them. "Guess we'd best +move up ther' now the farm's--sold. We'll need a few bits of furniture +from the farm. That right--now you've sold it?" + +"Yes. I made that arrangement. She didn't seem to mind anything I +suggested. She must be a bully sort of woman. I'm sorry I didn't see +her. The lawyer says she comes from St. Ellis." + +"Young?" suggested Buck. + +The Padre shook his head. + +"I wouldn't say so. A young woman with money wouldn't be likely to +hide herself in these hills." + +"That's so. Guess it's the gold fetching her--the gold that isn't +here." + +"Gold's a cursed thing," said the Padre reflectively. + +"Yet none of 'em seem to shy at the curse." Buck smiled in his slow +way. + +"No. Not without experiencing it." The Padre's eyes were still +serious. Then he went on, "We shan't farm any up there--at the fur +fort?" + +Buck shook his head. + +"It means clearing every inch of land we need. Guess we best hunt, as +we said. We'll make out with pelts. There's the whole mountains for +traps." + +The other stared over at the horses, and his face was very grave. +After a while he turned directly to his companion, and his eyes were +mildly anxious. + +"See here, Buck," he said, with what seemed unnecessary emphasis. +"I've thought a heap on the way back--home. It seems to me I'm not +acting square by you. And I've made up my mind." He paused. Buck did +not change his position, and his eyes were carefully avoiding those of +his companion. Then the Padre went on with a decision that somehow +lacked confidence. "You must take half the money, and--and get busy +your own way. We've done farming, so there's no reason for you to hang +around here. You're a man now, and you've your way to make in the +world. You see, when we had the farm I thought it was good for you. +It would be yours when I died, and then who knows, in time, how +valuable it might become? Now it's all different. You see the hills +are best for me." He smiled strainedly. "They've always been good +friends to me. But----" + +"Yes, you don't fancy leavin' the hills." Buck's eyes wore a curious +expression. They were half-smiling, half-angry. But the other could +not see them. The Padre jumped eagerly at his words. + +"Just so. I've known them so long now that there doesn't seem to be +any other world for me. Even Leeson Butte makes me feel--er--strange." + +Buck nodded. Then he changed the subject. + +"Say, we don't sleep at the farm to-night," he said. "The blankets are +up at the old fort. That's why I got around here. When's she comin' +along?" + +"In two or three days." The Padre had no choice but to follow the +younger man's lead. "She's sending along a farm woman first. She's +going to run the place herself." + +"Ther's no man comin'?" Buck half turned to his friend. + +"I don't think so." + +"They can't do it--hereabouts," Buck retorted quickly. "That farm +needs a man." + +"Yes." + +Buck rose abruptly and went over to the horses. + +"Going?" inquired the Padre. + +"I'll get along with the vittles, and hand 'em over to the boys. Guess +I'll git back to the fort in a few hours." + +The Padre sat hesitating. He watched the movements of his companion +without observing them. + +"Buck!" + +The other paused as he was about to put his foot into the stirrup. He +glanced over his shoulder. + +"Yes?" + +"About that money. There's five thousand of it yours." + +"Not on your life, Padre!" + +The elder man sighed as he stood up, and his look changed so that it +almost seemed as if a weight had been lifted from his mind. Their eyes +met as Buck swung himself into the saddle. + +"Then we're going to the hills--together?" he said smilingly. + +"Sure," responded Buck promptly. Then he added, "But we're goin' to +hunt--not farm." + +His decisive manner left no room for doubt, and the Padre, moving over +to him, held out his hand. They gripped till the elder man winced. + +"I'm glad I found you on the trail that time," he said, looking +squarely into the steady brown eyes. "I've always been glad, but--I'm +gladder still now." + +"Me, too," said Buck, with a light laugh. "Guess I'd have hated to ha' +fed the coyotes." + +Buck swung round to the trail, leading his packhorse, and the Padre +went back to his horse. Just as he was about to mount the younger +man's voice reached him again. He paused. + +"Say, what's the woman's name?" Buck inquired. + +"Eh?" The Padre looked startled. "The woman that bought the farm?" + +"Yes--sure." + +The elder man's face flushed painfully. It was a curious sight. He +looked as stupidly guilty as any schoolboy. + +"I--I can't say. I never asked." He felt absurdly foolish and tried to +explain. "You see, I only dealt with the lawyer." + +Buck shook his head, and smiled in his slow fashion. + +"Sold the farm, an' don't know who to! Gee!" + +It was good to hear his laugh as he rode away. The Padre watched him +till he was out of sight. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE STEEPS OF LIFE + + +Buck leant over his horse's withers as the laboring creature clawed +tenaciously up the face of the rugged hill. His whole poise was that +of sympathetic straining. Nor were his eyes a whit less eager than +those of the faithful animal under him. + +He was making the last twenty yards of the climb up Devil's Hill from +the side on which lay the new home adopted by the Padre and himself. +Hitherto this point of approach had been accepted as inaccessible for +a horseman, nor, until now, had Buck seen reason to dispute the +verdict. But, to-day, a sudden impulse had constrained him to make the +attempt, not from any vainglorious reason, or from the recklessness +which was so much a part of his nature, but simply that somewhere high +up on the great table-land at the summit of the hill he hoped to find +an answer to a riddle that was sorely puzzling him. + +It had been a great struggle even on the lower and more gradual +slopes, for the basaltic rocks were barren, and broken, and slippery. +There was no gripping soil, or natural foothold. Just the weather-worn +rocks which offered no grip to Cæsar's metal-shod hoofs. Yet the +generous-hearted beast had floundered on up to the last stretch, where +the hill rose abruptly at a perilous angle. + +It was a terrible scramble. As he looked above, at the point where the +sky-line was cut by the broken rocks, even the reckless heart of the +man quailed. Yet there was no turning back. To do so meant certain +disaster. No horse, however sure-footed, could ever hope to make the +descent by the way they had come. Buck had looked back just for one +brief second, but his eyes had instantly turned again for relief to +the heights above. Disaster lay behind him. To go on--well, if he +failed to reach the brow of the blackened hill it would mean disaster +anyway. And a smile of utter recklessness slowly lit his face. + +So, with set jaws and straining body, he urged Cæsar to a last supreme +effort, and the great black creature responded gallantly. With head +low to the ground, his muscles standing out like ropes upon his +shoulders, his forelegs bent like grappling-hooks, his quarters tucked +beneath him, he put his giant heart into the work. Step by step, inch +by inch he gained, yawing and sliding, stumbling and floundering, +making way where all way seemed impossible. Slowly they crept up, +slowly, slowly they neared that coveted line. Buck was breathing hard. +Cæsar was blowing and had thrown his mouth agape, a sign that beyond +this he could make no further effort. Five yards--two yards. The +jagged line seemed to come down to meet them. At last, with a final +spring, the great horse trampled it under foot. + +Buck heaved a sigh of relief. + +"Gee!" he murmured. Then with the wide, black plain stretching before +him, its limits lost in a strange mist, he flung out of the saddle. + +He stared about him curiously. Devil's Hill was in no way new to him. +Many a time he had visited its mysterious regions, but always had he +approached it from the prospecting camp, or his own farm, both of +which lay away on the northern side of it. + +A wide plateau, nearly two miles in extent, stretched out before him. +It was as flat as the proverbial board, with just one isolated rock +towering upon its bosom. This was the chief object of interest now. +Away in the distance he beheld its ghostly outline, almost lost in the +ruddy atmosphere which, just now, seemed to envelop the whole of that +Western world. + +It was a desolate scene. So desolate as to carry a strange sense of +depression to the heart of the horseman. There was not a tree in +sight--nor a single blade of grass. There was nothing but the funereal +black of basaltic rock, of which the hill seemed to be one solid mass. +Such was its desolation that even the horse seemed to be drooping at +the sight of it. It was always the same with Buck. There was an +influence about the place which always left him feeling rather +hopeless. He knew the old Indian stories of superstition. He knew the +awe in which the more ignorant among the white folk held this hill. +But these things left him unaffected. He only regarded it from his own +personal observations, which were not very enlivening. + +Apart from the fact that not one atom of vegetation would grow either +upon the surface or slopes of Devil's Hill, no snows in winter had +ever been known to settle upon its uninviting bosom. Long before the +snow touched its surface, however low the temperature of the +atmosphere, however severe a blizzard might be raging--and the Montana +blizzards are notorious for their severity--the snow was turned to +water, and a deluge of rain hissed upon its surface. + +Then, too, there was that mystery rock in the distance of the great +plateau. It was one of Nature's little enigmas with which she loves to +puzzle the mind of man. How came it there, shot up in the midst of +that wide, flat stretch of rock? It stood within a few hundred yards +of the eastern brink of the hill which, in its turn, was another +mystery. The eastern extremity was not a mere precipice, it was a vast +overhang which left Yellow Creek, upon whose banks the mining camps +were pitched, flowing beneath the roof of a giant tunnel supported by +a single side. + +The rock on the plateau reared its misshapen head to the heavens at a +height of something over two hundred feet, and its great base formed a +vast cavern out of which, fanwise, spread a lake of steaming water, +which flowed on to the very brink of the hill where it overshadowed +the creek below. Thus it was, more than half the lake was held +suspended in mid-air, with no other support than the parent hill from +which its bed projected. It was an awesome freak of nature, calculated +to astonish even eyes that were accustomed to the sight of it. + +But Buck was not thinking of these things now. He was looking at the +view. He was looking at the sky. He was looking from this great height +for an explanation of the curious, ruddy light in the sunless sky, the +teeming haze which weighted down the brain, and, with the slightest +movement, opened the pores of the skin and set the perspiration +streaming. + +In all his years of the Montana hills he had never experienced such a +curious atmospheric condition. Less than an hour ago he had left the +Padre at the fur fort under a blazing summer sky, with the crisp +mountain air whipping in his nostrils. Then, quite of a sudden, had +come this change. There were no storm-clouds, and yet storm was in +every breath of the superheated air he took. There was no wind, nor +anything definite to alarm except this sudden blind heat and the +purple hue which seemed to have spread itself over the whole world. +Thus it was, as he neared the mysterious mountain, he had made up his +mind to its ascent in the hope of finding, there upon the unwholesome +plateau, the key to the atmospheric mystery. + +But none seemed to be forthcoming, so, turning at last to the patient +Cæsar, he once more returned to the saddle and rode on to the barren +shores of Devil's Lake. + +The lake was a desolate spot. The waters stretched out before him, +still, and silent, and black. There was not even a ripple upon its +steaming surface. Here the haze hung as it always hung, and the cavern +was belching forth deep mists, like the breathing of some prehistoric +monster. He glanced up at the birdless rock above, and into the broken +outlines of it he read the distorted features of some baleful, living +creature, or some savage idol. But there was no answer here to the +questions of his mind, any more than there had been on the rest of the +plateau, so he rode on along the edge of the water. + +He reached the extreme end of the lake and paused again. He could go +no farther, for nothing but a rocky parapet, less than twenty feet +wide, barred the waters from tumbling headlong to the depths below. + +After a moment Cæsar grew restless, his equine nerves seemed to be on +a jangle, and the steadying hand of his master had no effect. His eyes +were wistful and dilated, and he glanced distrustfully from side to +side, snorting loudly his evident alarm. Buck moved him away from his +proximity to the water, and turned to a critical survey of the remoter +crests of the Rocky Mountains. + +The white snowcaps had gone. The purple of the lesser hills, usually +so delicate in their gradings, were lost in one monotony of dull red +light. The nearer distance was a mere world of ghostly shadows tinged +with the same threatening hue, and only the immediate neighborhood was +in any way clean cut and sharp to the eye. His brows drew together in +perplexity. Again, down there in the valley, beyond the brink of the +plateau, the dull red fog prevailed, and yet through it he could see +the dim picture of grass-land, of woods, of river, and the rising +slopes of more hills beyond. + +No, the secret of the atmospheric phenomenon was not up here, and it +was useless to waste more time. So he moved off, much to his impatient +horse's relief, in a direction where he knew a gentle slope would lead +him from the hilltop to the neighborhood of the old farm and the ford +across Yellow Creek. + +But even this way the road required negotiation, for the same bald +rocks and barrenness offered no sure foothold. However, Cæsar was used +to this path, and made no mistakes. His master gave him his head, and, +with eyes to the ground, the sure-footed beast moved along with almost +cat-like certainty. At last the soft soil of the valley was reached +again, and once more the deepening woods swallowed them up. + +The end of Buck's journey lay across Yellow Creek, where a few +miserable hovels sheltered a small community of starving gold-seekers, +and thither he now hastened. On his way he had a distant view of the +old farm. He would have preferred to have avoided it, but that was +quite impossible. He had not yet got over the parting from it, which +had taken place the previous day. To him had fallen the lot of handing +it over to the farm-wife who had been sent on ahead from Leeson Butte +to prepare it for her employer's coming. And the full sense of his +loss was still upon him. Wrong as he knew himself to be, he resented +the newcomer's presence in his old home, and could not help regarding +her as something in the nature of a usurper. + +The camp to which he was riding was a wretched enough place. Nor could +Nature, here in her most luxuriant mood, relieve it from its sordid +aspect. A few of the huts were sheltered at the fringe of the dark +woods, but most were set out upon the foreground of grass, which +fronted the little stream. + +As Buck approached he could not help feeling that they were the most +deplorable huts ever built. They were like a number of inverted square +boxes, with roofs sloping from front to back. They were made out of +rough logs cut from the pine woods, roofed in with an ill-laid thatch +of mud and grass, supported on the lesser limbs cut from the trees +felled to supply the logs. How could such despairing hovels ever be +expected to shelter men marked out for success? There was disaster, +even tragedy, in every line of them. They were scarcely even shelters +from the elements. With their broken mud plaster, their doorless +entrances, their ill-laid thatch, they were surely little better than +sieves. + +Then their surroundings of garbage, their remnants of coarse garments +hanging out upon adjacent bushes, their lack of every outward sign of +industrial prosperity. No, to Buck's sympathetic eyes, there was +tragedy written in every detail of the place. + +Were not these people a small band of regular tramp gold-seekers? What +was their outlook? What was their perspective? The tramp gold-seeker +is a creature apart from the rest of the laboring world. He is not an +ordinary worker seeking livelihood in a regular return from his daily +effort. He works under the influence of a craze that is little less +than disease. He could never content himself with stereotyped +employment. + +Besides, the rot of degradation soon seizes upon his moral nature. No +matter what his origin, what his upbringing, his education, his +pursuit of gold seems to have a deadening effect upon all his finer +instincts, and reduces him swiftly to little better than the original +animal. Civilization is forgotten, buried deep beneath a mire of +moral mud, accumulated in long years, and often in months only of +association with the derelicts and "hard cases" of the world. Rarely +enough, when Fortune's pendulum swings toward one more favored +individual, a flickering desire to return to gentler paths will +momentarily stir amidst the mire, but it seldom amounts to more than +something in the nature of a drunkard's dream in moments of sobriety, +and passes just as swiftly. The lustful animal appetite is too +powerful; it demands the sordid pleasures which the possession of gold +makes possible. Nor will it be satisfied with anything else. A tramp +gold-seeker is irreclaimable. His joy lies in his quest and the dreams +of fortune which are all too rarely fulfilled Every nerve centre is +drugged with his lust, and, like all decadents, he must fulfil the +destiny which his own original weakness has marked out for him. + +Buck understood something of all this without reasoning it out in +his simple mind. He understood with a heart as reckless as their own, +but with a brain that had long since gathered strength from the +gentle wisdom of the man who was a sort of foster-father to him. He +did not pity. He felt he had no right to pity, but he had a deep +sympathy and love for the strongly human motives which stirred these +people. Success or failure, he saw them as men and women whose many +contradictory qualities made them intensely lovable and sometimes even +objects for respect, if for nothing else, at least for their very +hardihood and courage. + +He rode up to the largest hut, which stood beyond the shadow of a +group of pine-trees, and dropped out of the saddle. With careful +forethought he loosened the cinchas of Cæsar's saddle and removed the +bit from his mouth. Then, with one last look at the purpling heavens, +he pushed aside the tattered blanket which hung across the doorway and +strode into the dimly-lit apartment. + +It was a silent greeting that welcomed him. His own "Howdy" met with +no verbal response. But every eye of the men lying about on blankets +outspread upon the dusty floor was turned in his direction. + +The scene was strange enough, but for Buck it had nothing new. The +gaunt faces and tattered clothing had long since ceased to drive him +to despairing protest. He knew, in their own phraseology, they were +"up against it"--the "it" in this case meaning the hideous spectre of +starvation. He glanced over the faces and counted seven of them. He +knew them all. But, drawing forward an upturned soap-box, he sat down +and addressed himself to Curly Saunders, who happened to be lying on +his elbow nearest the door. + +"Say, I just came along to give you word that vittles are on the way +from Leeson Butte," he said, as though the fact was of no serious +importance. + +Curly, a short, thick-set man of enormous strength and round, youngish +face, eased himself into a half-sitting position. But before he could +answer another man, with iron-gray hair, sat up alertly and eyed their +visitor without much friendliness. + +"More o' the Padre's charity?" he said, in a manner that suggested +resentment at the benefit he had no intention of refusing. Curiously +enough, too, his careless method of expression in no way disguised the +natural refinement of his voice. + +Buck shook his head, and his eyes were cold. + +"Don't guess there's need of charity among friends, Beasley." + +Beasley Melford laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. + +"Guess it makes him feel good dopin' out stuff to us same as if we was +bums," he said harshly. + +"Shut up!" cried a voice from a remote corner. Buck looked over and +saw a lean, dark man hugging his knees and smoking a well-burnt briar +pipe. The same voice went on: "Guess you'd sicken most anybody, +Beasley. You got a mean mind. Guess the Padre's a hell of a bully +feller." + +"He sure is," said Montana Ike, lolling over on to his side and +pushing his canvas kit-bag into a more comfortable position. "You was +sayin' there was vittles comin' along, Buck? Guess ther' ain't no +'chawin'' now?" + +"Tobacco, sure," responded Buck with a smile. + +One by one the men sat up on their frowsy blankets. The thought of +provisions seemed to have roused them from their lethargy. Buck's eyes +wandered over the faces peering at him out of the murky shadows. The +squalor of the hut was painful, and, with the knowledge that help was +at hand, the sight struck him even more forcibly. + +"Quit work?" he asked a moment later, in his abrupt fashion. + +Somebody laughed. + +Buck looked round for an answer. And again his eyes caught the steely, +ironical gleam in the man Beasley's. + +"The last o' Slaney's kids 'passed in' last night. Guess we're goin' +to bury her." + +Buck nodded. He had no words. But he carefully avoided looking in the +direction of Slaney Dick, who sat in a far corner smoking his pipe and +hugging his great knees. + +Beasley went on in the same half-mocking tone-- + +"Guess it's up to me to read the service over her." + +"You!" + +Buck could not help the ejaculation. Beasley Melford was an unfrocked +Churchman. Nor was it known the reason of his dismissal from his +calling. All Buck knew was that Beasley was a man of particularly low +morals and detestable nature. The thought that he was to administer +the last rites of the Church over the dead body of a pure and innocent +infant set his every feeling in active protest. He turned to Slaney. + +"The Padre buried the others?" he said questioningly. + +It was Dick's partner, Abe Allinson, who took it upon himself to +answer. + +"Y' see the Padre's done a heap. Slaney's missis didn't guess we'd +orter worrit him. That's how she said." + +Buck suddenly swung round on Beasley. + +"Fix it for to-morrow, an' the Padre'll be right along." + +He looked the ex-Churchman squarely in the eye. He was not making a +request. His words were an emphatic refusal to allow the other the +office. It was Slaney who answered him. + +"I'm glad," he said. Then, as an afterthought, "an' the missis'll be +glad, too." + +After that nobody seemed inclined to break the silence. Nor was it +until somebody hawked and spat that the spell was broken. + +"We bin holdin' a meetin'," said Curly Saunders heavily. "Y' see, it +ain't no good." + +Buck nodded at the doorway. + +"You mean----?" + +"The prospect," Beasley broke in and laughed. "Say, we sure been +suckers stayin' around so long. Ther' ain't no gold within a hundred +miles of us. We're just lyin' rottin' around like--stinkin' sheep." + +Curly nodded. + +"Sure. That's why we held a meeting. We're goin' to up stakes an' +git." + +"Where to?" + +Buck's quick inquiry met with a significant silence, which Montana Ike +finally broke. + +"See here," he cried, with sudden force. "What's the use in astin' +fool questions? Ther' ain't no gold, ther' ain't nuthin'. We got color +fer scratchin' when we first gathered around like skippin' lambs, but +ther's nuthin' under the surface, an' the surface is played right +out. I tell you it's a cursed hole. Jest look around. Look at yonder +Devil's Hill. Wher'd you ever see the like? That's it. Devil's Hill. +Say, it's a devil's region, an' everything to it belongs to the devil. +Ther' ain't nuthin' fer us--nuthin', but to die of starvin'. Ah, +psha'! It's a lousy world. Gawd, when I think o' the wimminfolk it +makes my liver heave. Say, some of them pore kiddies ain't had milk +fer weeks, an' we only ke'p 'em alive thro' youse two fellers. Say," +he went on, in a sudden burst of passion, "we got a right, same as +other folk, to live, an' our kids has, an' our wimmin too. Mebbe we +ain't same as other folks, them folks with their kerridges an' things +in cities, mebbe our kiddies ain't got no names by the Chu'ch, an' our +wimmin ain't no Chu'ch writin' fer sharin' our blankets, but we got a +right to live, cos we're made to live. An' by Gee! I'm goin' to live! +I tell youse folk right here, ther's cattle, an' ther's horses, an' +ther's grain in this dogone land, an' I'm goin' to git what I need of +'em ef I'm gettin' it at the end of a gun! That's me, fellers, an' +them as has the notion had best foller my trail." + +The hungry eyes of the man shone in the dusk of the room. The harsh +lines of his weak face were desperate. Every word he said he meant, +and his whole protest was the just complaint of a man willing enough +to accept the battle as it came, but determined to save life itself by +any means to his hand. + +It was Beasley who caught at the suggestion. + +"You've grit, Ike, an' guess I'm with you at any game like that." + +Buck waited for the others. He had no wish to persuade them to any +definite course. He had come there with definite instructions from the +Padre, and in his own time he would carry them out. + +A youngster, who had hitherto taken no part in the talk, suddenly +lifted a pair of heavy eyes from the torn pages of a five-cent novel. + +"Wal!" he cried abruptly. "Wot's the use o' gassin'? Let's light right +out. That's how we sed 'fore you come along, Buck." He paused, and a +sly grin slowly spread over his features. Then, lowering his voice to +a persuasive note, he went on, "Here, fellers, mebbe ther' ain't +more'n cents among us. Wal, I'd sure say we best pool 'em, an' I'll +set right out over to Bay Creek an' git whisky. I'll make it in four +hours. Then we'll hev jest one hell of a time to-night, an' up stakes +in the morning, fer--fer any old place out o' here. How's that?" + +"Guess our few cents don't matter, anyways," agreed Curly, his dull +eyes brightening. "I'd say the Kid's right. I ain't lapped a sup o' +rye in months." + +"It ain't bad fer Soapy," agreed Beasley. "Wot say, boys?" + +He glanced round for approval and found it in every eye except +Slaney's. The bereaved father seemed utterly indifferent to anything +except his own thoughts, which were of the little waxen face he had +watched grow paler and paler in his arms only yesterday morning, until +he had laid the poor little dead body in his weeping woman's lap. + +Buck felt the time had come for him to interpose. He turned on Beasley +with unmistakable coldness. + +"Guess the Padre got the rest of his farm money yesterday--when the +woman came along," he said. "An' the vittles he ordered are on the +trail. I'd say you don't need to light out--yet." + +Beasley laughed offensively. + +"Still on the charity racket?" he sneered. + +Buck's eyes lit with sudden anger. + +"You don't need to touch the vittles," he cried. "You haven't any +woman, and no kiddies. Guess there's nothing to keep you from getting +right out." + +He eyed the man steadily, and then turned slowly to the others. + +"Here, boys, the Padre says the food and canned truck'll be along +to-morrow morning. And you can divide it between you accordin' to your +needs. If you want to get out it'll help you on the road. And he'll +hand each man a fifty-dollar bill, which'll make things easier. If you +want to stop around, and give the hill another chance, why the fifty +each will make a grub stake." + +The proposition was received in absolute silence. Even Beasley had no +sneering comment. The Kid's eyes were widely watching Buck's dark +face. Slaney had removed his pipe, and, for the moment, his own +troubles were forgotten under a sudden thrill of hope. Curly Saunders +sat up as though about to speak, but no words came. Abe Allinson, +Ike, and Blue Grass Pete contented themselves with staring their +astonishment at the Padre's munificence. Finally Slaney hawked and +spat. + +"Seems to me," he said, in his quiet, drawling voice, "the Padre sold +his farm to help us out." + +"By Gee! that's so," exclaimed Curly, thumping a fist into the palm of +his other hand. + +The brightening eyes lit with hope. The whole atmosphere of the place +seemed to have lost something of its depression. + +Ike shook his head. + +"I'm gettin' out. But say, the Padre's a bully feller." + +Abe nodded. + +"Ike's right. Slaney an' me's gettin' out, too. Devil's Hill's a +cursed blank." + +"Me, too," broke in the Kid. "But say, wot about poolin' our cents for +whisky?" he went on, his young mind still intent upon the contemplated +orgie. + +It was Buck who helped the wavering men to their decision. He +understood them. He understood their needs. The ethics of the +proposition did not trouble him. These men had reached a point where +they needed a support such as only the fiery spirits their stomachs +craved could give them. The Padre's help would come afterward. At the +moment, after the long weeks of disappointment, they needed something +to lift them, even if it was only momentarily. He reached round to his +hip-pocket and pulled out two single-dollar bills and laid them on the +dusty ground in front of him. + +"Ante up, boys," he said cheerfully. "Empty your dips. The Kid's +right. An' to-morrow you can sure choose what you're going to do." +Then he turned to the Kid. "My plug Cæsar's outside. Guess you best +take him. He'll make the journey in two hours. An' you'll need to +bustle him some, because ther's a kind o' storm gettin' around right +smart. Eh?" He turned and glanced sharply at Beasley. "You got a +dollar?" + +"It's fer whisky," leered the ex-Churchman, as he laid the dirty paper +on the top of Buck's. + +In two minutes the pooling was completed and the Kid prepared to set +out. Eight dollars was all the meeting could muster--eight dollars +collected in small silver, which represented every cent these men +possessed in the world. Buck knew this. At least he could answer for +everybody except perhaps Beasley Melford. That wily individual he +believed was capable of anything. He was sure that he was capable of +accepting anything from anybody, while yet being in a position to more +than help himself. + +Buck went outside to see the Kid off, and some of the men had gathered +in the doorway. They watched the boy swing himself into the saddle, +and the desperate shadows had lightened on their hungry faces. The +buoyancy of their irresponsible natures was reasserting itself. That +bridge, which the Padre's promise had erected between their despair +and the realms of hope, however slight its structure, was sufficient +to lift them once more to the lighter mood so natural to them. + +So their tongues were loosened, and they offered their messenger +the jest from which they could seldom long refrain, the coarse, +deep-throated jest which sprang from sheer animal spirits rather than +any subtlety of wit. They forgot for the time that until Buck's coming +they had contemplated the burial of a comrade's only remaining +offspring. They forgot that the grieving father was still within the +hut, his great jaws clenched upon the mouthpiece of his pipe, his +hollow eyes still gazing straight in front of him. That was their way. +There was a slight ray of hope for them, a brief respite. There was +the thought, too, of eight dollars' worth of whisky, a just portion of +which was soon to be in each stomach. + +But Buck was not listening to them. He had almost forgotten the +messenger riding away on his treasured horse, so occupied was he by +the further change that had occurred in the look of the sky and in the +atmosphere of the valley. Presently he lifted one strong, brown hand +to his forehead and wiped the beads of perspiration from it. + +"Phew! What heat! Here," he cried, pointing at Devil's Hill, away to +his left, "what d'you make of that?" + +For a moment all eyes followed the direction of his outstretched arm. +And slowly there grew in them a look of awe such as rarely found place +in their feelings. + +The crown of the hill, the whole of the vast, black plateau was +enveloped in a dense gray fog. Above that hung a mighty, thunderous +pall of purple storm-cloud. Back, away into the mountains in billowy +rolls it extended, until the whole distance was lost in a blackness as +of night. + +It was Curly Saunders who broke the awed silence. + +"Jumpin' Mackinaw!" he cried. Then he looked after their departing +messenger. "Say, that feller oughtn't to've gone to Bay Creek. He'll +never make it." + +Beasley, whose feelings were less susceptible, and whose mind was set +on the promised orgie, sneered at the other's tone. + +"Skeered some, ain't you? Tcha'! It's jest wind----" + +But he never completed his sentence. At that instant the whole of the +heavens seemed to split and gape open. A shaft of light, extending +from horizon to horizon, paralyzed their vision. It was accompanied by +a crash of thunder that set their ear-drums well-nigh bursting. Both +lightning and the thunder lasted for what seemed interminable minutes +and left their senses dazed, and the earth rocking beneath their +feet. Again came the blinding light, and again the thunder crashed. +Then, in a moment, panic had set in, and the tattered blanket had +fallen behind the last man as a rush was made for the doubtful shelter +of the hut. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +OUT OF THE STORM + + +The challenge had gone forth. In those two vivid shafts of light, +in the deafening peals of thunder the war of elements had been +proclaimed, and these men of the wilderness understood something of +their danger. + +Thereafter, for some moments, a threatening silence reigned +everywhere. The birds, the insects even, all life seemed to crouch, +hushed and expectant. The valley might have been the valley of death, +so still, so dark, so threatening was the superheated atmosphere that +hung over it. + +The men within the shelter of the hut waited, and only Buck and Blue +Grass Pete stood near the blanket-covered doorway. There was little +enough confidence in the inefficient shelter of the hut, but it was +their natural retreat and so they accepted it. Then the moment of +tension passed, and Buck, glancing swiftly round the hut, seized a +hammer and hastily secured the covering of the doorway. + +"She'll be on us right smart," he observed to Pete, who assisted him +while the others looked on. + +"Yes," replied Pete resignedly. "Guess we're goin' to git it good." +There was not only resignation, but indifference in his tone. + +Buck glanced up at the roof, and the rest followed his gaze curiously. +He shook his head. + +"It's worse than----" + +But he did not finish what he had to say. A strange hissing broke from +the distance, like the sound of rushing water, and, with each passing +moment, it grew in volume until, out of the heart of it, a +deep-throated roar boomed over the hilltops. + +It was a great wind-storm leaping down from the everlasting snows of +the mountains, tearing its way through the lean branches of the +forest-tops, the wide-gaping valleys, and rushing up the hillsides +with a violence that tore limbs from the parent trunks and rooted out +trees that had withstood a thousand storms. It was the deep breath of +the storm fiend launched upon a defenseless earth, carrying wreck and +destruction whithersoever its blast was turned. + +"By Jing'!" + +It was Montana Ike who voiced the awe crowding every heart. + +But his exclamation brought the practical mind of Buck to +consideration of their needs. His eyes turned again to the roof, and +Pete voiced his thoughts. + +"She'll carry away like--like a kite when it hits us," he declared. +Several more pairs of eyes were turned helplessly upward. Suddenly +Buck swung round upon the doorway. + +"Here she comes," he cried. "Holy----!" + +With a rush and a deafening roar the wind hit the building and set it +rocking. Buck and Pete flung themselves with arms outspread against +the ballooning blanket, and it held. Again the wind crashed against +the sides of the hut. Some one flung himself to the two men's +assistance. Then came a ripping and tearing, and the thatch hissed +away on the breath of the storm like straw caught in a whirlwind. The +men gazed stupidly up at the blackened heavens, which were now like +night. There was nothing to be done. What could they do? They were +helpless. And not even a voice could make itself heard in the howling +of the wind as it shrieked about the angles of the building. + +Then came the rain. It fell in great drops whose sheer weight and size +carried them, at the moment of impact, through the ragged shirts to +the warm flesh beneath. In a second, it seemed, a waterspout was upon +them and was pouring its tide into the roofless hut. + +With the deluge, the elemental battle began in desperate earnest. Peal +after peal of thunder crashed directly overhead, and with it came such +a display of heavenly pyrotechnics that in their wildest moments these +men had never dreamed of. Their eyes were blinded, and their ear-drums +were bursting with the incessant hammering of the thunder. + +But the wind had passed on, shrieking and tearing its way into the dim +distance until its voice was utterly drowned in the sterner +detonations of the battle. + +Drenched to the skin, knee-deep in water, the men stood herded +together like sheep in a pen. Their blankets were awash and floated +about, tangling their legs in the miniature lake that could not find +rapid enough exit through the doorway. They could only stand there +stupidly. To go outside was to find no other shelter, and only the +more openly to expose themselves to the savage forks of lightning +playing across the heavens in such blinding streaks. Nor could they +help the women even if they needed help in the other huts. The roofs +and doors would or would not hold, and, in the latter case, until the +force of the storm abated no help could serve them. + +The storm showed no signs of abatement. The black sky was the sky of +an unlit night. There was no lightening in any direction, and the +blinding flashes amidst the din of thunder only helped to further +intensify the pitchy vault. The splitting of trees amidst the chaos +reached the straining ears, and it was plain that every flash of light +was finding a billet for its forked tongue in the adjacent forests. + +The time dragged on. How long or how short was the period of the storm +none of the men wondered or cared. The rapidity of the thunder +crashes, the swift successions of lightning entirely held them, and, +strong as they were, these things kept their nerves jumping. + +Once in the midst of it all a man suddenly cried out. His cry came +with a more than usually brilliant flash of purplish, steel-blue fire. +The intensity of it carried pain to the now supersensitive nerves of +his vision, and he turned and flung himself with his face buried upon +his arm against the dripping wall. It was Beasley Melford. He stood +there cowering, a dreadful terror shaking his every nerve. + +The others turned stupidly in his direction, but none had thought for +his suffering. Each was hard pressed to face the terror of it all +himself; each was wondering at what moment his own limits would be +reached. Buck alone showed no sign of the nervous tension. His deep +brown eyes watched the group about him, automatically blinking with +every flash of light, and with only the slightest possible start as +the thunder crashed into his ears. + +He was thinking, too--thinking hard of many things. The Padre was out +in the hills with gun and traps. Would he have anticipated the swift +rising storm and regained the shelter of the stout old fort? With the +boom of falling trees going on about them, with the fiery crackle of +the blazing light as it hit the topmost branches of the adjacent +forest, he wondered and hoped, and feared for the old man in the same +thought. + +Then there were those others. The women and children in the other +huts. How were they faring? But he remembered that the married +quarters were better built than this hut had been, and he drew comfort +from the thought. And what of the Kid, and of Cæsar? + +More than two hours passed before any change came. The deafening peals +of thunder seemed as though they would never lessen in tone. The +night-like heavens seemed as though no sun could ever hope to +penetrate them again. And the streaming rain--was there ever such a +deluge since the old Biblical days! + +Buck understood now the nature of the storm. Probably twenty years +would elapse before another cloudburst would occur again, and the +thought set him speculating upon the effect this might have upon the +lake on Devil's Hill. What might not happen? And then the creek below! +He remembered that these huts of the gold-seekers were on the +low-lying banks of the creek. What if it flooded? He stirred uneasily, +and, turning to the doorway, opened a loose fold in the blanket and +peered out. + +He saw the creek in a sudden blaze of light, and in that momentary +brilliance he saw that the rushing water was rising rapidly. A grave +feeling of uneasiness stirred him and he turned back to his +companions. For once in his life he felt utterly helpless. + +Another hour passed. The atmospheric heat had passed, and the men +stood shivering in the water. The chill was biting into their very +bones, but still there was no respite. Twice more Buck turned anxious +eyes upon the creek. And each time his alarm increased as the blinding +light revealed the rapid rise of the water. He dared not voice his +fears yet. He understood the condition of mind prevailing. To warn his +companions would be to set them rushing to get their womenfolk out of +their shelters, and this must not be thought of--yet. + +He had just arrived at the conclusion that he would abide by his next +observation when the long-looked-for change began. It came as suddenly +as the rising of the storm itself. It came in a rapid lightening of +the sky overhead. From black to gray it turned almost in a second. A +dull, ominous, rolling world of gray rain-clouds. The thunder died +away and the blinding flashes came no more. It was as though the storm +had been governed by one all-powerful will and the word to "cease +fire" had been hurled across the heavens as the last discharge of +monstrous artillery had been fired. Then, with the lifting of the +darkness, the rain slackened too, and the deluge eased. + +Buck sighed his relief, and Curly Saunders, from near by, audibly +expressed his. + +"She's lettin' up," he growled. + +Pete caught at his words. + +"It sure is." + +Buck was about to speak, but his lips remained open and he stood +listening. + +What was that? + +Something was moving beyond the doorway. Something touched the +blanket as though seeking support. Then it slid down, its movement +visible in the bulging of the drenched cloth. This was followed by a +heavy, squelching flop. The body, whatever it was, had fallen into the +streaming water pouring from within the hut. Then came a long-drawn, +piteous moan that held the men gazing silently and stupidly at the +sagging blanket. + +It was while they stood thus that the rain ceased altogether, and the +great storm-clouds broke and began to disperse, and a watery sunbeam +lit the wreck of the passing storm. As its light poured in upon the +wretched interior a second moan, short and weak but distinctly +audible, reached the astounded ears of the men. There was a moment's +pause as it died out, then Buck's arm shot out, and, seizing the edge +of the blanket, he ripped it from its fastenings and let it fall to +the ground. Instantly every neck was set craning, and every eye was +alight with wonder, for there, half-resting upon the sill of the +doorway, and half-lying upon the ground with the water streaming +everywhere about her, lay the huddled, half-drowned figure of a young +woman. + +"It's--it's a--woman," cried Pete stupidly, unable to contain his +astonishment longer. + +"It sure is," murmured Curly, with equal brightness. + +But while they gave the company the benefit of their keenness of +perception Buck had dropped upon his knees and was bending over the +wretched victim of the storm. He raised her, and drew her tenderly +into his arms. + +"'Tain't one of ours," announced Ike over his shoulder. + +"No." Buck's monosyllable displayed no great interest in his remark. + +Amidst a dead silence Buck suddenly straightened up, with the +dripping figure clasped tightly in his strong arms. A great pity shone +in his eyes as he gazed down into the fair young face. It was the +first time in all his life he had held a woman in his arms, and the +sensation of it made him forget those others about him. + +Suddenly Ike's voice aroused him. + +"By Gar!" he cried. "Jest look at that red ha'r. Say, easy, boys, +we're treadin' it around in the mud." + +It was true. The great masses of the girl's red-gold hair had fallen +loose and were trailing in the water as Buck held her. It reached from +the man's shoulder, where her head was pillowed, and the heavy-footed +men were trampling the ends of it into the mud. Ike stooped and +rescued the sodden mass, and laid it gently across Buck's shoulders. + +For a moment the sun shone down upon the wondering group. The clouds +had broken completely, and were scattering in every direction as +though eager to escape observation after their recent shameful +display. No one seemed to think of moving out into the rapidly warming +open. They were content to gather about Buck's tall figure and gape +down at the beautiful face of the girl lying in his arms. + +It was Beasley Melford who first became practical. + +"She's alive, anyway," he said. "Sort o' stunned. Mebbe it's the +lightnin'." + +Pete turned, a withering glance upon his foxy face. + +"Lightnin' nuthin'," he cried scornfully. "If she'd bin hit she'd ha' +bin black an' dead. Why, she--she ain't even brown. She's white as +white." His voice became softer, and he was no longer addressing the +ex-Churchman. "Did y' ever see sech skin--so soft an' white? An' that +ha'r, my word! I'd gamble a dollar her eyes is blue--ef she'd jest +open 'em." + +He reached out a great dirty hand to touch the beautiful whiteness of +the girl's throat with a caressing movement, but instantly Buck's +voice, sharp and commanding, stayed his action. + +"Quit that!" he cried. "Ke'p your durned hands to yourself," he added, +with a strange hoarseness. + +Pete's eyes lit angrily. + +"Eh? What's amiss?" he demanded. "Guess I ain't no disease." + +Beasley chuckled across at him, and the sound of his mirth infuriated +Buck. He understood the laugh and the meaning underlying it. + +"Buck turned wet nurse," cried the ex-Churchman, as he beheld the +sudden flush on the youngster's face. + +"You can ke'p your durned talk," Buck cried. "You Beasley--and the lot +of you," he went on recklessly. "She's no ord'nary gal; she's--she's a +lady." + +Curly and Ike nodded agreement. + +But Beasley, whatever his fears of the storm, understood the men of +his world. Nor had he any fear of them, and Buck's threat only had the +effect of rousing the worst side of his nature, at all times very near +the surface. + +"Lady? Psha'! Write her down a woman, they're all the same, only +dressed different. Seems to me it's better they're all just women. An' +Pete's good enough for any woman, eh, Pete? She's just a nice, dandy +bit o' soft flesh an' blood, eh, Pete? Guess you like them sort, eh, +Pete?" + +The man's laugh was a hideous thing to listen to, but Pete was not +listening. Buck heard, and his dark face went ghastly pale, even +though his eyes were fixed on the beautiful face with its closed, +heavily-lashed eyes. Pete's attention was held by the delicate +contours of her perfect figure and the gaping, bedraggled white +shirt-waist, where the soft flesh of her fair bosom showed through, +and the delicate lace and ribbons of her undergarments were left in +full view. + +No one offered Beasley encouragement and his laugh fell flat. And when +Curly spoke it was to express something of the general thought. + +"Wonder how she came here?" he said thoughtfully. + +"Seems as though the storm had kind o' dumped her down," Abe Allinson +admitted. + +Again Beasley chuckled. + +"Say, was ther' ever such a miracle o' foolishness as you fellers? You +make me laff--or tired, or something. Wher'd she come from? Ain't the +Padre sold his farm?" he demanded, turning on Buck. "Ain't he sold it +to a woman? An' ain't he expectin' her along?" + +Buck withdrew his eyes from the beautiful face, and looked up in +answer to the challenge. + +"Why, yes," he said, his look suddenly hardening as he confronted +Beasley's face. "I had forgotten. This must surely be Miss--Miss Rest. +That's the name Mrs. Ransford, the old woman at the farm, said. Rest." +He repeated the name as though it were pleasant to his ears. + +"Course," cried Curly cheerfully. "That's who it is--sure." + +"Rest, eh? Miss--Rest," murmured the preoccupied Pete. Then he added, +half to himself, "My, but she's a dandy! Ain't--ain't she a pictur', +ain't she----?" + +Buck suddenly pushed him aside, and his action was probably rougher +than he knew. But for some reason he did not care. For some reason he +had no thought for any one but the fair creature lying in his arms. +His head was throbbing with a strange excitement, and he moved swiftly +toward the door, anxious to leave the inquisitive eyes of his +companions behind him. + +As he reached the door Beasley's hateful tones arrested him. + +"Say, you ain't takin' that pore thing up to the fort, are you?" he +jeered. + +Buck swung about with the swiftness of a panther. His eyes were ablaze +with a cold fire. + +"You rotten outlaw parson!" he cried. + +He waited for the insult to drive home. Then when he saw the fury in +the other's face, a fury he intended to stir, he went on-- + +"Another insinuation like that an' I'll shoot you like the dog you +are," he cried, and without waiting for an answer he turned to the +others. "Say, fellers," he went on, "I'm takin' this gal wher' she +belongs--down to the farm. I'm goin' to hand her over to the old woman +there. An' if I hear another filthy suggestion from this durned skunk +Beasley, what I said goes. It's not a threat. It's a promise, sure, +an' I don't ever forgit my promises." + +Beasley's face was livid, and he drew a sharp breath. + +"I don't know 'bout promises," he said fiercely. "But you won't find +me fergittin' much either." + +Buck turned to the door again and threw his retort over his shoulder. + +"Then you sure won't forgit I've told you what you are." + +"I sure won't." + +Nor did Buck fail to appreciate the venom the other flung into his +words. But he was reckless--always reckless. And he hurried through +the doorway and strode off with his still unconscious burden. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A SIMPLE MANHOOD + + +All thought of Beasley Melford quickly became lost in feelings of a +deeper and stronger nature as Buck passed out into the open. His was +not a nature to dwell unnecessarily upon the clashings of every-day +life. Such pinpricks were generally superficial, to be brushed aside +and treated without undue consideration until such time as some +resulting fester might gather and drastic action become necessary. The +fester had not yet gathered, therefore he set his quarrel aside for +the time when he could give it his undivided attention. + +As he strode away the world seemed very wide to Buck. So wide, indeed, +that he had no idea of its limits, nor any desire to seek them. He +preferred that his eyes should dwell only upon those things which +presented themselves before a plain, wholesome vision. He had no +desire to peer into the tainted recesses of any other life than that +which he had always known. And in his outlook was to be witnessed the +careful guidance of his friend, the Padre. Nor was his capacity +stunted thereby, nor his strong manhood. On the contrary, it left him +with a great reserve of power to fight his little battle of the +wilderness. + +Yet surely such a nature as his should have been dangerously open to +disaster. The guilelessness resulting from such a simplicity of life +ought surely to have fitted him for a headlong rush into the pitfalls +which are ever awaiting the unwary. This might have been so in a man +of less strength, less reckless purpose. Therein lay his greatest +safeguard. His was the strength, the courage, the resource of a mind +trained in the hard school of the battle for existence in the +wilderness, where, without subtlety, without fear, he walked over +whatever path life offered him, ready to meet every obstruction, every +disaster, with invincible courage. + +It was through this very attitude that his threat against Beasley +Melford was not to be treated lightly. His comrades understood it. +Beasley himself knew it. Buck had assured him that he would shoot him +down like a dog if he offended against the unwritten laws of +instinctive chivalry as he understood them, and he would do it without +any compunction or fear of consequences. + +A woman's fame to him was something too sacred to be lightly treated, +something quite above the mere consideration of life and death. The +latter was an ethical proposition which afforded him, where a high +principle was in the balance against it, no qualms whatsoever. It was +the inevitable result of his harsh training in the life that was his. +The hot, rich blood of strong manhood ran in his veins, but it was the +hot blood tempered with honesty and courage, and without one single +taint of meanness. + +As he passed down the river bank, beyond which the racing waters +flowed a veritable torrent, he saw the camp women moving about outside +their huts. He saw them wringing out their rain-drenched garments. +Thus he knew that the storm had served their miserable homes badly, +and he felt sorry for them. + +For the most part they were heavy, frowsy creatures, slatternly and +uncouth. They came generally from the dregs of frontier cities, or +were the sweepings of the open country, gleaned in the debauched +moments of the men who protected them. Nor, as his eyes wandered in +their direction, was it possible to help a comparison between them and +the burden of delicate womanhood he held in his arms, a comparison +which found them painfully wanting. + +He passed on under the bold scrutiny of those feminine eyes, but they +left him quite unconscious. His thoughts had drifted into a wonderful +dreamland of his own, a dreamland such as he had never visited before, +an unsuspected dreamland whose beauties could never again hold him as +they did now. + +The sparkling sunlight which had so swiftly followed in the wake of +the storm, lapping up the moisture of the drenching earth with its +fiery tongue, shed a radiance over the familiar landscape, so that it +revealed new and unsuspected beauties to his wondering eyes. How came +it that the world, his world, looked so fair? The distant hills, those +hills which had always thrilled his heart with the sombre note of +their magnificence, those hills which he had known since his earliest +childhood, with their black, awe-inspiring forests, they were somehow +different, so different. + +He traced the purple ridges step by step till they became a blurred, +gray monotony of tone fading away until it lost itself in the +glittering white of the snowcaps. Everything he beheld in a new light. +No longer did those hills represent the battle-ground where he and the +Padre fought out their meagre existence. They had suddenly become one +vast and beautiful garden where life became idyllic, where existence +changed to one long joy. The torrents had shrunk to gentle streams, +babbling their wonderful way through a fairy-land of scented gardens. +The old forceful tearing of a course through the granite hearts of the +hills was a thought of some long-forgotten age far back in the dim +recesses of memory. The gloom of the darkling forests, too, had passed +into the sunlit parks of delight. The rugged canyons had given place +to verdant valleys of succulent pasture. The very snows themselves, +those stupendous, changeless barriers, suggested nothing so much as +the white plains of perfect life. + +The old harsh lines of life had passed, and the sternness of the +endless battle had given way to an unaccountable joy. + +Every point that his delighted eyes dwelt upon was tinged with +something of the beatitude that stirred his senses. Every step he took +was something of an unreality. And every whispering sound in the +scented world through which he was passing found an echo of music in +his dreaming soul. + +Contact with the yielding burden lying so passive in his strong arms +filled him with a rapture such as he had never known. The thought of +sex was still far from his mind, and only was the manhood in him +yielding to the contact, and teaching him through the senses that +which his upbringing had sternly denied him. + +He gazed down upon the wonderful pale beauty of the girl's face. He +saw the rich parted lips between which shone the ivory of her perfect, +even teeth. The hair, so rich and flowing, dancing with glittering +beams of golden light, as, stirring beneath the breath of the +mountains, it caught the reflection of a perfect sun. + +How beautiful she was. How delicate. The wonderful, almost transparent +skin. He could trace the tangle of small blue veins like a fairy web +through which flowed the precious life that was hers. And her +eyes--those great, full, round pupils hidden beneath the veil of her +deeply-fringed lids! But he turned quickly from them, for he knew that +the moment she awoke his dream must pass into a memory. + +His gaze wandered to the swanlike roundness of her white throat, to +the gaping shirt-waist, where the delicate lace and tiny ribbon peeped +out at him. It was all so wonderful, so marvelous. And she was in his +arms--she, this beautiful stranger. Yet somehow she did not seem like +a stranger. To his inflamed fancy she seemed to have lain in his arms +all his life, all her life. No, she was no stranger. He felt that she +belonged to him, she was part of himself, his very life. + +Still she slept on. He suddenly found himself moving with greater +caution, and he knew he was dreading the moment when some foolish +stumble of his should bring her back to that life which he feared yet +longed to behold. He longed for the delight of watching the play of +emotions upon her lovely features, to hear her speak and laugh, and to +watch her smile. He feared, for he knew that with her waking those +delicious moments would be lost to him forever. + +So he dreamed on. In his inmost soul he knew he was dreaming, and, in +his reckless fashion, he desired the dream to remain unending. He saw +the old fur fort no longer the uncouth shelter of two lonely lives, +but a home made beautiful by a presence such as he had never dreamed +of, a presence that shed beauty upon all that came under the spell of +its influence. He pictured the warmth of delight which must be the +man's who lived in such an atmosphere. + +His muscles thrilled at the thought of what a man might do under such +an inspiration. To what might he not aspire? To what heights might he +not soar? Success must be his. No disaster could come-- + +The girl stirred in his arms. He distinctly felt the movement, and +looked down into her face with sudden apprehension. But his anxiety +was swiftly dispelled, and a tender smile at once replaced the look in +his dark eyes. No, she had not yet awakened, and so he was content. + +But the incident had brought him realization. His arms were stiff and +cramped, and he must rest them. Strong man that he was he had been +wholly unaware of the distance he had carried her. + +He gently laid her upon the grass and looked about him. Then it was +that wonder crept into his eyes. He was at the ford of the creek, more +than two miles from the camp, and on the hither bank, where the road +entered the water, a spring cart lay overturned and broken, with the +team of horses lying head down, buried beneath the turbulent waters as +they raced on down with the flood. + +Now he understood the full meaning of her presence in the camp. His +quick eyes took in every detail, and at once her coming was explained. +He turned back in the direction whence he had come, and his mind flew +to the distance of the ford from the camp. She had bravely faced a +struggle over two miles of a trail quite unknown to her when the worst +storm he had ever known was at its height. His eyes came back to the +face of the unconscious girl in even greater admiration. + +"Not only beautiful but----" + +He turned away to the wreck, for there were still things he wished to +know. And as he glanced about him he became more fully aware of the +havoc of the storm. Even in the brilliant sunshine the whole prospect +looked woefully jaded. Everywhere the signs told their pitiful tale. +All along the river bank the torn and shattered pines drooped +dismally. Even as he stood there great tree trunks and limbs of trees +were washed down on the flood before his eyes. The banks were still +pouring with the drainings of the hills and adding their quota to the +swelling torrent. + +But the overturned spring cart held most interest just now, and he +moved over to it. The vehicle was a complete wreck, so complete, +indeed, that he wondered how the girl had escaped without injury. Two +trunks lay near by, evidently thrown out by the force of the upset, +and it pleased him to think that they had been saved to their owner. +He examined them closely. Yes, the contents were probably untouched by +the water. But what was this? The initials on the lid were "J. S." The +girl's name was Rest. At least so Mrs. Ransford had stated. He +wondered. Then his wonder passed. These were very likely trunks +borrowed for the journey. He remembered that the Padre had a leather +grip with other initials than his own upon it. + +Where was the teamster? He looked out at the racing waters, and the +question answered itself. Then he turned quickly to the girl. Poor +soul, he thought, her coming to the farm had been one series of +disasters. So, with an added tenderness, he stooped and lifted her +gently in his arms and proceeded on his way. + +At last he came to the farm, which only that morning he had so eagerly +avoided. And his feelings were not at all unpleasant as he saw again +the familiar buildings. The rambling house he had known so long +inspired him with a fresh joy at the thought of its new occupant. He +remembered how it had grown from a log cabin, just such as the huts of +the gold-seekers, and how, with joy and pride, he and the Padre had +added to it and reconstructed as the years went by. He remembered the +time when he had planted the first wild cucumber, which afterward +became an annual function and never failed to cover the deep veranda +with each passing year. There, too, was the cabbage patch crowded with +a wealth of vegetables. And he remembered how careful he had been to +select a southern aspect for it. The small barns, the hog-pens, where +he could even now hear the grunting swine grumbling their hours away. +The corrals, two, across the creek, reached by a log bridge of their +own construction. Then, close by stood the nearly empty hay corrals, +waiting for this year's crop. No, the sight of these things had no +regrets for him now. It was a pleasant thought that it was all so +orderly and flourishing, since this girl was its future mistress. + +He reached the veranda before his approach was realized by the +farm-wife within. Then, as his footsteps resounded on the rough +surface of the flooring of split logs, Mrs. Ransford came bustling out +of the parlor door. + +"Sakes on me!" she cried, as she beheld the burden in her visitor's +arms. "If it ain't Miss Rest all dead an' done!" Her red hands went up +in the air with such a comical tragedy, and her big eyes performed +such a wide revolution in their fat, sunburnt setting that Buck +half-feared an utter collapse. So he hurriedly sought to reassure +her, and offered a smiling encouragement. + +"I allow she's mostly done, but I guess she's not dead," he said +quickly. + +The old woman heaved a tragic sigh. + +"My! but you made me turn right over, as the sayin' is. You should +ha' bin more careful, an' me with my heart too, an' all. The doctor +told me as I was never to have no shock to speak of. They might set +up hem--hemoritch or suthin' o' the heart, what might bring on +sing--sing--I know it was suthin' to do with singin', which means I'd +never live to see another storm like we just had, not if it sure come +on this minit----" + +"I'm real sorry, ma'm," said Buck, smiling quietly at the old woman's +volubility, but deliberately cutting it short. "I mean about the shock +racket. Y' see she needs fixin' right, an' I guess it's up to you to +git busy, while I go an' haul her trunks up from the creek." + +Again the woman's eyes opened and rolled. + +"What they doin' in the creek?" she demanded with sudden heat. "Who +put 'em ther'? Some scallawag, I'll gamble. An' you standin' by seein' +it done, as you might say. I never did see sech a place, nor sech +folk. To think o' that pore gal a-settin' watchin' her trunks bein' +pushed into the creek by a lot o' loafin' bums o' miners, an' no one +honest enough, nor man enough to raise a hand to--to----" + +"With respec', ma'm, you're talkin' a heap o' foolishness," cried Buck +impatiently, his anxiety for the girl overcoming his deference for the +other's sex. "If you'll show me the lady's room I'll carry her right +into it an' set her on her bed, an'----" + +"Mercy alive, what's the world a-comin' to!" cried the indignant +farm-wife. "Me let the likes o' you into the gal's bedroom! You? Guess +you need seein' to by the State, as the sayin' is. I never heard the +like of it. Never. An' she jest a slip of a young gal, too, an' all." + +But Buck's patience was quite exhausted, and, without a moment's +hesitation, he brushed the well-meaning but voluble woman aside and +carried the girl into the house. He needed no guidance here. He knew +which was the best bedroom and walked straight into it. There he laid +the girl upon an old chintz-covered settee, so that her wet clothes +might be removed before she was placed into the neat white bed waiting +for her. And the clacking tongue of Ma Ransford pursued his every +movement. + +"It's an insult," she cried angrily. "An insult to me an' mine, as you +might say. Me, who's raised two daughters an' one son, all of 'em +dead, more's the pity. First you drown the gal an' her baggage, an' +then you git carryin' her around, an' walkin' into her virgin bedroom +without no by your leave, nor nuthin'." + +But Buck quite ignored her protests. He felt it was useless to +explain. So he turned back and gave his final instructions from the +doorway. + +"You jest get her right to bed, ma'm, an' dose her," he said amiably. +"I'd guess you best give her hot flannels an' poultices an' things +while I go fetch her trunks. After that I'll send off to Bay Creek fer +the doctor. He ain't much, but he's better than the hoss doctor fer +womenfolk. Guess I'll git back right away." + +But the irate farm-wife, her round eyes blazing, slammed the door in +his face as she flung her final word after him. + +"You'll git back nuthin'," she cried furiously. "You let me git you +back here agin an' you'll sure find a sort o' first-class hell runnin' +around, an' you won't need no hot flannels nor poultices to ke'p you +from freezin' stone cold." + +Then, with perfect calmness and astonishing skill, she flung herself +to the task of caring for her mistress in that practical, feminine +fashion which, though he may appreciate, no man has ever yet quite +understood. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SECRET OF THE HILL + + +It was the morning following the great storm, a perfect day of +cloudless sunshine, and the Padre and Buck were on their way from the +fur fort to the camp. Their mission was to learn the decision of its +inhabitants as to their abandonment of the valley; and in the Padre's +pocket was a large amount of money for distribution. + +The elder man's spirits were quietly buoyant. Nor did there seem to be +much reason why they should be. But the Padre's moods, even to his +friends, were difficult to account for. Buck, on the contrary, seemed +lost in a reverie which held him closely, and even tended to make his +manner brusque. + +But his friend, in the midst of his own cheerful feelings, would not +allow this to disturb him. Besides, he was a far shrewder man than his +simple manner suggested. + +"It's well to be doing, lad," he said, after some considerable +silence. "Makes you feel good. Makes you feel life's worth a bigger +price than we mostly set it at." + +His quiet eyes took the other in in a quick, sidelong glance. He saw +that Buck was steadily, but unseeingly, contemplating the black slopes +of Devil's Hill, which now lay directly ahead. + +"Guess you aren't feeling so good, boy?" he went on after a moment's +thoughtful pause. + +The direct challenge brought a slow smile to Buck's face, and he +answered with surprising energy-- + +"Good? Why, I'm feelin' that good I don't guess even--even Beasley +could rile me this mornin'." + +The Padre nodded with a responsive smile. + +"And Beasley can generally manage to rile you." + +"Yes, he's got that way, surely," laughed Buck frankly. "Y' see +he's--he's pretty mean." + +"I s'pose he is," admitted the other. Then he turned his snow-white +head and glanced down at the lean flanks of Cæsar as the horse walked +easily beside his mare. + +"And that boy, Kid, was out in all that storm on your Cæsar," he went +on, changing the subject quickly from the man whom he knew bore him an +absurd animosity. "A pretty great horse, Cæsar. He's looking none the +worse for fetching that whisky either. Guess the boys'll be getting +over their drunk by now. And it's probably done 'em a heap of good. +You did right to encourage 'em. Maybe there's folks would think +differently. But then they don't just understand, eh?" + +"No." + +Buck had once more returned to his reverie, and the Padre smiled. He +thought he understood. He had listened overnight to a full account of +the arrival of the new owner of their farm, and had gleaned some +details of her attractiveness and youth. He knew well enough how +surely the isolated mountain life Buck lived must have left him open +to strong impressions. + +They set their horses at a canter down the long declining trail which +ran straight into the valley above which Devil's Hill reared its ugly +head. And as they went the signs of the storm lay everywhere about +them. Their path was strewn with débris. The havoc was stupendous. +Tree trunks were lying about like scattered nine-pins. Riven trunks, +split like match-wood by the lightning, stood beside the trail, gaunt +and hopeless. Partially-severed limbs hung drooping, their weeping +foliage appealing to the stricken world about them for a sympathy +which none could give. Even the hard, sun-baked trail, hammered and +beaten to an iron consistency under a hundred suns of summer, was +scored with now dry water-courses nearly a foot deep. With all his +knowledge and long experience of the mountains even the Padre was +filled with awe at the memory of what he had witnessed. + +"Makes you think, Buck, doesn't it?" he said, pointing at a stately +forest giant stretched prone along the edge of the trail, its proud +head biting deeply into the earth, and its vast roots lifting twenty +and more feet into the air. "I was out in the worst of it, too," he +went on thoughtfully. Then he smiled at the recollection of his puny +affairs while the elements had waged their merciless war. "I was +taking a golden fox out of a trap, 'way back there on the side of the +third ridge. While I was doing it the first two crashes came. A +hundred and more yards away two pines, big fellers, guess they were +planted before the flood, were standing out solitary on a big rock +overhanging the valley below. They were there when I first bent over +the trap. When I stood up they were gone--rock and all. It made me +think then. Guess it makes me think more now." + +"It surely was a storm," agreed Buck absently. + +They reached the open valley, and here the signs were less, so, taking +advantage of the clearing, they set their horses at a fast gallop. +Their way took them skirting the great slope of the hill-base, and +every moment was bearing them on toward the old farm, for that way, +some distance beyond, lay the ford which they must cross to reach the +camp. + +Neither seemed inclined for further talk. Buck was looking straight +out ahead in the direction of the farm, and his preoccupation had +given place to a smile of anticipation. The Padre was intent upon the +black slopes of the hill. Farther along, the hill turned away toward +the creek, and the trail bore to the left, passing on the hither side +of a great bluff of woods which stretched right up to the very corrals +of the farm. It was here, too, where the overhang of the suspended +lake came into view, where Yellow Creek poured its swift, shallow +torrent in the shadowed twilight of the single-walled tunnel and the +gold-seekers held their operations in a vain quest of fortune. + +They had just come abreast of this point and the Padre was observing +the hill with that never-failing interest with which the scene always +filled him. He believed there was nothing like it in all the world, +and regarded it as a stupendous example of Nature's engineering. But +now, without warning, his interest leapt to a pitch of wonderment that +set his nerves thrilling and filled his thoughtful eyes with an +unaccustomed light of excitement. One arm shot out mechanically, +pointing at the black rocks, and a deep sigh escaped him. + +"Mackinaw!" he cried, pulling his horse almost on to its haunches. +"Look at that!" + +Buck swung round, while Cæsar followed the mare's example so abruptly +that his master was almost flung out of the saddle. + +He, too, stared across in the direction indicated. And his whispered +exclamation was an echo of the other's astonishment. + +"By the----!" + +Then on the instant an almost unconscious movement, simultaneously +executed, set their horses racing across the open in the direction of +the suspended lake. + +The powerful Cæsar, with his lighter burden, was the first to reach +the spot. He drew up more than two hundred yards from where the domed +roof forming the lake bed hung above the waters of the creek. He could +approach no nearer, and his rider sat gazing in wonder at the +spectacle of fallen rock and soil, and the shattered magnificence of +the acres of crushed and broken pine woods which lay before him. + +The whole face of the hill for hundreds and hundreds of feet along +this side had been ruthlessly rent from its place and flung broadcast +everywhere, and, in the chaos he beheld, Buck calculated that hundreds +of thousands of tons of the blackened rock and subsoil had been +dislodged by the tremendous fall. + +Just for an instant the word "washout" flashed through his mind. But +he dismissed it without further consideration. How could a washout +sever such rock? Even he doubted the possibility of lightning causing +such destruction. No, his thoughts flew to an earth disturbance of +some sort. But then, what of the lake? He gazed up at where the rocky +arch jutted out from the parent hill, and apprehension made him +involuntarily move his horse aside. But his observation had killed the +theory of an earth disturbance. Anything of that nature must have +brought the lake down. For the dislodgment began under its very +shadow, and had even further deepened the yawning cavern beneath its +bed. + +The Padre's voice finally broke his reflections, and its tone +suggested that he was far less awed, and, in consequence, his thoughts +were far more practical. + +"Their works are gone," he said regretfully. "I'd say there's not a +sluice-box nor a conduit left. Maybe even their tools are lost. Poor +devils!" + +The man's calm words had their effect. Buck at once responded to the +practical suggestion. + +"They don't leave their tools," he said. Then he pointed up at the +lake. "Say, what if that had come down? What if the bowels o' that +hill had opened up an' the water been turned loose? What o' the camp? +What o' the women an'--the kiddies?" + +His imagination had been stirred again. Again the Padre's practice +brought him back. + +"You don't need to worry that way, boy. It hasn't fallen. Guess the +earth don't fancy turning her secrets loose all at once." + +Buck sighed. + +"Yet I'd say the luck sure seems rotten enough." + +There was no answer, and presently the Padre pointed at the face of +the hill. + +"It was a washout," he said with quiet assurance. "See that face? It's +softish soil. Some sort of gravelly stuff that the water got at. Sort +of gravel seam in the heart of the rock." + +Buck followed the direction indicated and sat staring at it. Then +slowly a curious look of hope crept into his eyes. It was the fanciful +hope of the imaginative. + +"Here," he cried suddenly, "let's get a peek at it. Maybe--maybe the +luck ain't as bad as we think." And he laughed. + +"What d'you mean?" asked the Padre sharply. + +For answer he had to put up with a curt "Come on." And the next moment +he was following in Cæsar's wake as he picked his way rapidly amongst +the trees skirting the side of the wreckage. Their way lay inland from +the creek, for Buck intended to reach the cliff face on the western +side of the fall. It was difficult going, but, at the distance, safe +enough. Not until they drew in toward the broken face of the hill +would the danger really begin. There it was obvious enough to anybody. +The cliff was dangerously overhanging at many points. Doubtless the +saturation which had caused the fall had left many of those great +projections sufficiently loose to dislodge at any moment. + +Buck sought out what he considered to be the most available spot and +drew his horse up. The rest must be done on foot. No horse could hope +to struggle over such a chaotic path. At his suggestion both animals +were tethered within the shelter of trees. At least the trees would +afford some slight protection should any more of the cliff give way. + +In less than a quarter of an hour they stood a hundred feet from the +actual base of the cliff, and Buck turned to his friend. + +"See that patch up there," he said, pointing at a spread of reddish +surface which seemed to be minutely studded with white specks. "Guess +a peek at it won't hurt. Seems to me it's about ten or twelve feet up. +Guess ther' ain't need for two of us climbin' that way. You best wait +right here, an' I'll git around again after a while." + +The Padre surveyed the patch, and his eyes twinkled. + +"Ten or twelve feet?" he said doubtfully. "Twenty-five." + +"May be." + +"You think it's----?" + +Buck laughed lightly. + +"Can't say what it is--from here." + +The other sat down on an adjacent rock. + +"Get right ahead. I'll wait." + +Buck hurried away, and for some moments the Padre watched his slim +figure, as, scrambling, stumbling, clinging, he made his way to where +the real climb was to begin. Nor was it until he saw the tall figure +halt under an overhanging rock, which seemed to jut right out over his +head, and look up for the course he must take in the final climb, that +Buck's actual danger came home to the onlooker. He was very little +more given to realizing personal danger than Buck himself, but now a +sudden apprehension for the climber gripped him sharply. + +He stirred uneasily as he saw the strong hands reach up and clutch the +jutting facets. He even opened his mouth to offer a warning as he saw +the heavily-booted feet mount to their first foothold. But he +refrained. He realized it might be disconcerting. A few breathless +moments passed as Buck mounted foot by foot. Then came the thing the +Padre dreaded. The youngster's hold broke, and a rock hurtled by him +from under his hand and very nearly dislodged him altogether. + +In an instant the Padre was on his feet with the useless intention of +going to his aid, but, even as he stood up, his own feet shot from +under him, and he fell back heavily upon the rock from which he had +just risen. + +With an impatient exclamation he looked down to discover the cause of +his mishap. There it lay, a loose stone of yellowish hue. He stooped +to remove it, and, in a moment, his irritation was forgotten. In a +moment everything else was forgotten. Buck was forgotten. The peril of +the hill. The cliff itself. For the moment he was lifted out of +himself. Years had passed away, his years of life in those hills. And +something of the romantic dreams of his early youth thrilled him once +again. + +He stood up bearing the cause of his mishap clasped in his two hands +and stared down at it. Then, after a long while, he looked up at the +climbing man. He stood there quite still, watching his movements with +unseeing eyes. His interest was gone. The danger had somehow become +nothing now. There was no longer any thought of the active figure +moving up the face of the hill with cat-like clinging hands and feet. +There was no longer thought for his success or failure. + +Buck reached his goal. He examined the auriferous facet with close +scrutiny and satisfaction. Then he began the descent, and in two +minutes he stood once more beside the Padre. + +"It's high-grade quartz," he cried jubilantly as he came up. + +The Padre nodded, his mind on other things. + +"I'd say the luck's changed," Buck went on, full of his own discovery +and not noticing the other's abstraction. He was enjoying the thought +of the news he had to convey to the starving camp. "I'd say there's +gold in plenty hereabouts and the washout----" + +The Padre suddenly thrust out his two hands which were still grasping +the cause of his discomfiture. He thrust them out so that Buck could +not possibly mistake the movement. + +"There surely is--right here," he said slowly. + +Buck gasped. Then, with shining eyes, he took what the other was +holding into his own two hands. + +"Gold!" he cried as he looked down upon the dull yellow mass. + +"And sixty ounces if there's a pennyweight," added the Padre +exultantly. "You see I--I fell over it," he explained, his quiet eyes +twinkling. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GATHERING FOR THE FEAST + + +Two hours later saw an extraordinary change at the foot of Devil's +Hill. The wonder of the "washout" had passed. Its awe was no longer +upon the human mind. The men of the camp regarded it with no more +thought than if the destruction had been caused by mere blasting +operations. They were not interested in the power causing the wreck, +but only in their own motives, their own greedy longings, their own +lust for the banquet of gold outspread before their ravening eyes. + +The Padre watched these people his news had brought to the hill with +tolerant, kindly eye. He saw them scattered like a small swarm of bees +in the immensity of the ruin wrought by the storm. They had for the +time forgotten him, they had forgotten everything in the wild moment +of long-pent passions unloosed--the danger which overhung them, their +past trials, their half-starved bodies, their recent sufferings. These +things were thrust behind them, they were of the past. Their present +was an insatiable hunger for finds such as had been thrust before +their yearning eyes less than an hour ago. + +He stood by and viewed the spectacle with a mind undisturbed, with a +gentle philosophy inspired by an experience which he alone could +appreciate. It was a wonderful sight. The effort, the haste, the +almost insane intentness of these people seeking the yellow metal, the +discovery of which was the whole bounds of their horizon. He felt +that it was good to see them. Good that these untamed passions should +be allowed full sway. He felt that such as these were the advance +guard of all human enterprise. Theirs was the effort, theirs the +hardship, the risk; and after them would come the trained mind, +perhaps the less honest mind, the mind which must harness the result +of their haphazard efforts to the process of civilization's evolution. +He even fancied he saw something of the influence of this day's work +upon the future of that mountain world. + +But there was regret too in his thought. It was regret at the +impossibility of these pioneers ever enjoying the full fruits of their +labors. They would enjoy them in their own way, at the moment, but +such enjoyment was not adequate reward for their daring, their +sacrifice, their hardihood. Well enough he knew that they were but the +toilers in a weed-grown vineyard, and that it would fall to the lot of +the skilled husbandman to be the man who reaped the harvest. + +It was a picture that would remain long enough in his memory. The +flaying picks rising and falling amongst the looser débris, the +grinding scrape of the shovel, turning again and again the heavy red +gravel. The shouts of hoarse voices hailing each other in jubilant +tones, voices thrilling with a note of hope such as they had not known +for weeks. He saw the hard muscles of sunburnt arms standing out +rope-like with the terrific labor they were engaged in. And in the +background of it all he saw the grim spectacle of the blackened hill, +frowning down like some evil monster, watching the vermin life eating +into a sore it was powerless to protect. + +It was wonderful, the transformation of these things. And yet it was +far less strange than his witness of the spectacle of the beaten, +hopeless men he had helped so long up in the camp. He was glad. + +He was glad, too, that even Buck had been caught in the fever of the +moment. He saw him with the rest, with borrowed tools, working with a +vigor and enthusiasm quite unsurpassed by the most ardent of the +professional gold-seekers. Yet he knew how little the man was tainted +with the disease of these others. He had no understanding whatever of +the meaning of wealth. And the greed of gold had left him quite +untouched. His was the virile, healthy enthusiasm for a quest for +something which was hidden there in the wonderful auriferous soil, a +quest that the heart of any live man is ever powerless to resist. + +With him it would last till sundown, maybe, and after that the fever +would pass from his veins. Then the claims of the life that had always +been his would reassert themselves. + +After a while the Padre's thoughts drifted to the pressing +considerations of the future. Several times he had heard the shouts of +men who had turned a nugget up in the gravel. And at each such cry he +had seen the rush of others, and the feverish manner in which they +took possession of the spot where the lucky individual was working and +hustled him out. It was in these rushes that he saw the danger lying +ahead. + +Hitherto these men had been accustomed to the slow process of washing +"pay-dirt." It was not only slow, but unemotional. It had not the +power to stir the senses to a pitch of excitement like this veritable +Tom Tiddler's ground, pitchforked into their very laps by one of +Nature's freakish impulses. + +With this thought came something very like regret at the apparent +richness of the find. Something must be done, and done without delay, +to regulate the situation. The place must be arranged in claims, and +definite regulations must be laid down and enforced by a council of +the majority. He felt instinctively that this would be the only way to +avert a state of anarchy too appalling to contemplate. It would be an +easy matter now, but a hopeless task to attempt later on. Yes, a big +trouble lay in those rushes, which seemed harmless enough at present. +And he knew that his must be the work of straightening out the +threatened tangle. + +But for the moment the fever must be allowed to run riot. It must work +itself out with the physical effort of hard muscles. In the calm of +rest after labor counsel might be offered and listened to. But not +until then. + +So that memorable day wore on to its close. The luck had come not in +the petty find such as these men had looked for, but in proportions of +prodigal generosity such as Nature sometimes loves to bestow upon +those whom she has hit the hardest. She had called to her aid those +strange powers of which she is mistress and hurled them headlong to do +her bidding. She had bestowed her august consent, and lo, the earth +was opened, and its wealth poured out at the very feet of those who +had so long and so vainly sought it. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SOLVING THE RIDDLE + + +The new owner of the Padre's farm had quite recovered from the effects +of her disastrous journey. Youth and a sound constitution, and the +overwhelming ministrations of Mrs. Ransford had done all that was +needed to restore her. + +She was sitting in an old, much-repaired rocking-chair, in what was +obviously the farm's "best" bedroom. Her trunks, faithfully recovered +from the wreck of the cart by the only too willing Buck, stood open on +the floor amidst a chaotic setting of their contents, while the old +farm-wife herself stood over them, much in the attitude of a faithful +and determined watch-dog. + +The girl looked on indifferent to the confusion and to the damage +being perpetrated before her very eyes. She was lost in thoughts of +her own which had nothing to do with such fripperies as lawns, and +silks, and _suèdes_, or any other such feminine excitements. She was +struggling with recollection, and endeavoring to conjure it. There was +a blank in her life, a blank of some hours, which, try as she would, +she could not fill in. It was a blank, as far as she could make out, +which terminated in her arrival at the farm _borne in the arms of some +strange man_. + +Well might such a thought shut out considerations like the almost +certain destruction of a mere wardrobe at the hands of her ignorant +but well-meaning helper. It would have been exciting, too, but for her +memory of the latter stages of her journey. They were still painful. +There was still uncertainty as to what had happened to the teamster +and the horses. + +At last, however, she abandoned further attempt to solve the riddle +unaided, and decided to question her housekeeper. + +"Was it the same man who brought those trunks--I mean the same man +who--brought me here?" she demanded sharply. + +"It surely was," replied Mrs. Ransford, desisting for a moment from +her efforts to bestow a pile of dainty shoes into a night-dress case +of elaborate drawn thread work. "An' a nice mess he's got things in. +Jest look at 'em all tossed about, same as you might toss slap-jacks, +as the sayin' is. It's a mercy of heaven, an' no thanks to him, you've +got a rag fit to wear. It surely ain't fer me to say it, but it's real +lucky I'm here to put things right for you. Drat them shoes! I don't +guess I'll ever git 'em all into this bag, miss--ma'm--I mean miss, +mum." + +Something of the tragedy of her wardrobe became evident to the girl +and she went to the rescue. + +"I'm sorry, but they don't go in there," she said, feeling that an +apology was due for her interference in such well-intended efforts. +"That's--you see, that's my sleeping-suit case," she added gently. + +"Sleepin'-soot?" A pair of round, wondering eyes stared out through +the old woman's glasses. + +The girl pointed at the silk trousers and jacket lying just inside the +nearest trunk, and the farm-wife picked them up gingerly, letting them +unfold as she did so. Just for one moment she inspected them, then +she hurriedly let them drop back into the trunk as though they were +some dangerous reptile, and, folding her arms, glared into the girl's +smiling face in comical reproach. + +"You sure don't wear them pants, miss--at night? Not reely?" she +exclaimed in horrified tones. + +The girl's smile hardened. + +"Why, yes. Lots of girls wear sleeping-suits nowadays." + +"You don't say!" + +The old woman pursed up her lips in strong disapproval. Then, with a +disdainful sniff, she went on-- + +"Wot gals ain't comin' to I don't know, I'm sure. Wot with silk next +their skin an' them draughty stockin's, as you might say, things is +gettin' to a pretty pass. Say, I wouldn't put myself into them pants, +no, not if the President o' the United States was to stand over me an' +wouldn't let me put on nuthin' else." + +The girl refrained from reply, but the obvious impossibility of the +feat appealed to her sense of humor. However, the solution of her +riddle was of prevailing interest, so she returned again to her +questioning. + +"Did he say how he found me?" she demanded. "Did he tell you any--any +particulars of what happened to the cart, and--and the teamster?" + +"No, ma'm--miss, beggin' your pardin,--that he didn't. I never see +sech a fresh feller outside a noospaper office. An' him the owner of +this farm that was, but isn't, as you might say. You take my word for +it he'll come to a bad end, he sure will. Wot with them wicked eyes of +his, an' that black, Dago-lookin' hair. I never did see a feller who +looked more like a scallawag than him. Makes me shiver to think of +him a-carryin' you in his two arms. Wher' from sez I--_an' why_?" + +"Because I couldn't walk, I expect," the girl replied easily. + +The farm-wife shook a fat, warning finger at her. + +"Oh, ma'm--miss--that's wot he says! You jest wait till you've got +more experience o' scallawags like him an' you'll sure know. Wot I sez +is men's that full o' tricks wher' females is to be deceived it 'ud +take 'em a summer vacation sortin' 'emselves out. Men is shockin' +scallawags," she finished up, flinging the shoes pell-mell into the +open trunk. + +A further rescue of her property was necessary and the girl protested. + +"Please don't bother any more with those clothes," she cried +hurriedly. "I'll see to them myself." Then, as the woman proceeded to +mop her perspiring brow with a pair of silk stockings, she sprang up +and thrust a hand-towel toward her. "Use this; you'll find it more +absorbent than--er--silk." + +The old woman thanked her profusely, and made the exchange. And when +the operation was completed the relieved girl returned to her seat and +went on with her examination. + +"What did you say his name was?" + +"I didn't say. An' he didn't tell me, neither. Fellers like him ain't +never ready with their names. Maybe he calls himself Moreton Kenyon. +Y' see he was the same as handed the farm over, an' you tol' me, back +ther' in Leeson Butte, you'd bo't Moreton Kenyon's farm. 'Moreton +Kenyon!' Sort o' high-soundin' name for such a scallawag. I don't +never trust high-soundin' names. They're most like whitewash. You +allus set that sort o' stuff on hog-pens an' sech, as you might say." + +"Perhaps he's not as bad as you suspect," the girl suggested kindly. +"Lots of good people start by making a bad impression." + +"I don't know what that means," cried the other promptly. "But I do +know what a scallawag is, an' that's him." + +It was useless to seek further information from such a source, so the +girl abandoned the attempt, and dismissed the pig-headed housekeeper +to her work, work which she felt she was far better suited to than +such a delicate operation as the straightening out a wardrobe. + +When Mrs. Ransford had taken her unwilling departure, not without +several well-meaning protests, the girl bent her own energies to +restoring order to her wardrobe. Nor was it an easy task. The +masculine manner of the bedroom left much to be desired in those +little depositories and cupboards, without which no woman can live in +comfort. And during the process of disposing her belongings many +mental notes were made for future alterations in the furnishings of +her new abode. + +It was not a bad room, however. The simplicity and cleanliness of it +struck wholesomely upon her. Yes, in spite of what her lieutenant had +said about him, Mr. Moreton Kenyon was certainly a man of some +refinement. She had never heard that such neatness and cleanliness was +the habit amongst small bachelor farmers in the outlands of the West. +And this was the man who had carried her--where from? + +Again she sat down in the rocker and gave herself up to the puzzlement +of those hours of her unconsciousness. The last event that was clear +in her mind was the struggle of the teamster to keep his horses +head-on for the bank of the flooded river. She remembered the surging +waters, she remembered that the bottom of the cart was awash, and that +she sat with her feet lifted and resting on the side of the vehicle. +She remembered that the horses were swimming before the driver's +flogging whip and blasphemous shoutings. All this was plain enough +still. Then came the man's order to herself. He warned her to get +ready to jump, and she had been quick to realize the necessity. In +spite of the horses' wildest struggles the cart was being washed +down-stream. Then had come his final shout. And she had jumped on the +instant. + +At this point of her recollections things became confused. She had a +hazy memory of floundering in the water, also she remembered a heavy +blow on the shoulder. Then some one seemed to seize hold of her. It +must have been the teamster, though she did not remember seeing him in +the water. How she got out was a mystery to her. Again it must have +been the teamster. Then what of him? Mrs. Ransford had not spoken of +him. Had he, too, escaped? or had he--she shuddered. For some moments +her thoughts depressed her. The thought of a brave man's life +sacrificed for her was too terrible. + +But after a while she continued in a lighter strain. It was at this +point that the blank began. True, she seemed to have some dim +recollection of a rough hut. It seemed to be made of logs. Then, too, +she had a dreamy sort of cognizance of a number of men's voices +talking. Then--no, there was nothing more after that. Nothing until +she awoke and found herself in bed, with a strange doctor standing +over her. + +It was all very puzzling, but--she turned toward the window as the +afternoon sun fell athwart it and lit the plain interior of her new +bedroom, searching the corners and the simple furnishings of the +carpetless room. + +From where she sat she could see the barns and corrals, and beyond +them the heavy-hued pine woods. Then, away out far, far in the +distance, the endless white snowcaps of the purpling hills. What a +scene to her unaccustomed eyes. The breadth of it. The immensity. + +She drew a deep breath and sat up. + +She was dressed in a simple white shirt-waist and blue serge skirt, +and her masses of red-gold hair were loosely coiled about her +well-shaped head. The eager light of interest in her violet eyes lit +her beautiful young face, lending it an animation which added a +wonderful vitality to her natural beauty. The firm, rich lips were +parted eagerly. The wide-open eyes, so deeply intelligent, shone with +a lustre of delight there was no mistaking. Her rounded bosom rose and +fell rapidly as the glad thought flew through her brain that +this--this was her new home, where she was to forget the past and shut +out all recollection of that evil shadow which had so long pursued +her. + +Yes, this was the beginning of her new life. Joan Stanmore was dead, +and out of the ashes had arisen Joan Rest, ready to face the world in +a spirit of well-doing bachelorhood. Here, here in the wild mountain +world, where men were few and apart from her old life, she could face +the future with perfect confidence. + +She breathed a deep sigh of contentment and lolled back in the rocker, +dropping her eyes from the snow-crowned hills to the precious little +farm that was all hers. Then, in an instant, she sat up again as the +tall figure of a young man appeared round the corner of the barn. + +For some moments she followed his movements wonderingly. He walked +straight over to the hay corral with long, easy strides. There was +none of the slouch of a man idling about him. His whole attitude was +full of distinct purpose. She saw him enter the corral and mount the +half-cut haystack, and proceed to cut deeper into it. A moment later +he pitched the loose hay to the ground, and himself slid down on to +it. Then, stooping, he gathered it in his arms and left the corral. + +Now she saw his face for the first time. It was dark. Nor could she be +certain that his coloring was due to sunburn. His eyes were dark, too, +and his hair. He was a good-looking man, she decided, and quite young. +But how tall. And what shoulders. She wondered who he was, and what he +was doing on her farm. + +Then, of a sudden, she remembered she had spoken of a hired man to +Mrs. Ransford. Had she----? + +Her reflections were cut short by the sudden appearance of the +farm-wife from the house. The old woman trotted hastily across the +yard toward the barn, her fat sides shaking as she waddled, and her +short, stout arms violently gesticulating. Joan needed nothing more +than the good woman's back view to tell her that the dame was very +angry, and that it was the stranger who had inspired her wrath. She +waited, smiling, for the _dénouement_. + +It came quickly. It came with the reappearance of the stranger round +the corner of the barn. What a splendid specimen of a man, she +thought, as she watched the expression of unruffled calm on his strong +features. His shirt sleeves were rolled well up above his elbows, and +even at that distance she could see the deep furrows in his arms +where the rope-like muscles stood out beneath the thin, almost +delicate skin. + +But her attention was quickly diverted by the clacking of the +farm-wife's tongue. She could hear it where she sat with the window +tight shut. And though she could not hear the words it was plain +enough from the violence of her gesticulations that she was rating the +patient man soundly. So patent was it, so dreadful, that even in her +keenest interest Joan found herself wondering if Mr. Ransford were +dead, and hoping that, if he were, his decease had occurred in early +youth. + +Nor had the man made any attempt at response. She was sure of it, +because she had watched his firm lips, and they had not moved. Perhaps +he had found retort impossible. It was quite possible, for the other +had not paused a moment in her tirade. What a flow. It was colossal, +stupendous. Joan felt sorry for the man. + +What a patience he had. Nor had his expression once altered. He merely +displayed the thoughtful attention that one might bestow, listening to +a brilliant conversationalist or an interesting story. It was too +ridiculous, and Joan began to laugh. + +Then the end came abruptly and without warning. Mrs. Ransford just +swung about and trotted furiously back to the house. Her face was +flaming, and her fat arms, flourishing like unlimber flails, were +pointing every verbal threat she hurled over her shoulder at the spot +where the man had stood. Yes, he had vanished again round the corner +of the barn, and the poor woman's best efforts were quite lost upon +the warm summer air. + +But her purpose was obvious, and Joan prepared herself for a +whirlwind visitation. Nor had she long to wait. There was a shuffling +of feet out in the passage, and, the next moment, the door of her room +was unceremoniously flung open and the indignant woman staggered in. + +"Well, of all the impidence, of all the sass, of all the ignorant bums +that ever I----!" She exploded, and stood panting under the strain of +her furious emotions. + +But Joan felt she really must assert herself. This sort of reign of +terror must not go on. + +"Don't fluster yourself, Mrs. Ransford," she said calmly. "I'll see to +the matter myself." + +But she might as well have attempted to stem the tide of the river +that had wrecked her journey as stay the irate woman's tongue. + +"But it's him!" she cried. "Him, that low-down scallawag that carried +you in his arms an' walked right into this yere bedroom an' laid you +on your own virgin bed without no by your leave nor nuthin'. Him, as +saw your trunks drownded an' you all mussed up with water, without +raisin' a hand to help, 'less it was to push you further under----" + +But Joan was equal to no more. She pushed the well-meaning creature on +one side and hurried out of the house, while the echoes of the other's +scathing indictment died down behind her. + +Joan did not hesitate. It was not her way to hesitate about anything +when her mind was made up. And just now she was determined to find out +the real story of what had happened to her. She was interested. This +man had carried her. He had brought her trunks up. And--yes, she liked +the look of him. + +But she felt it necessary to approach the matter with becoming +dignity. She was not given much to standing on her dignity, but she +felt that in her association with the men of these parts she must +harden herself to it. All friendships with men were banned. This she +was quite decided upon. And she sighed as she passed round the angle +of the barn. + +Her sigh died at its birth, however, and she was brought to a short +and terrified halt. Two prongs of a hayfork gleamed viciously within +three inches of her horrified eyes, and, behind them, with eyes no +less horrified, stood the dark-haired stranger. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SHADOW OF THE PAST + + +The gleaming prongs of the fork were sharply withdrawn, and a pleasant +voice greeted the girl. + +"Guess that was a near thing," it said half-warningly. + +Joan had started back, but at the sound of the voice she quickly +recovered herself. + +"It was," she agreed. Then as she looked into the smiling eyes of the +stranger she began to laugh. + +"Another inch an' more an' you'd sure have been all mussed up on that +pile of barn litter," he went on, joining in her laugh. + +"I s'pose I should," Joan nodded, her mirth promptly sobering to a +broad smile. + +She had almost forgotten her purpose so taken up was she in observing +this "scallawag," as Mrs. Ransford had called him. Nor did it take her +impressionable nature more than a second to decide that her worthy +housekeeper was something in the nature of a thoroughly stupid woman. +She liked the look of him. She liked his easy manner. More than all +she liked the confident look of his dark eyes and his sunburnt face, +so full of strength. + +"Hayforks are cussed things anyway," the man said, flinging the +implement aside as though it had offended him. + +Joan watched him. She was wondering how best to approach the questions +in her mind. Somehow they did not come as easily as she had +anticipated. It was one thing to make up her mind beforehand, and +another to put her decision into execution. He was certainly not the +rough, uncouth man she had expected to find. True, his language was +the language of the prairie, and his clothes, yes, they surely +belonged to his surroundings, but there was none of the uncleanness +about them she had anticipated. + +It was his general manner, however, that affected her chiefly. How +tall and strong he was, and the wonderful sunburn on his clean-cut +face and massive arms! Then he had such an air of reserve. No, it was +not easy. + +Finally, she decided to temporize, and wait for an opening. And in +that she knew in her heart she was yielding to weakness. + +"My housekeeper tells me it was you who handed the farm over to her?" +she said interrogatively. + +The man's eyes began to twinkle again. + +"Was that your--housekeeper?" he inquired. + +"Yes--Mrs. Ransford." + +Joan felt even less at her ease confronted by those twinkling eyes. + +"She's a--bright woman." + +The man casually picked up a straw and began to chew it. + +Joan saw that he was smiling broadly, and resented it. So she threw +all the dignity she could summon into her next question. + +"Then you must be Mr. Moreton Kenyon!" she said. + +The man shook his head. + +"Wrong. That's the 'Padre,'" he announced curtly. + +Joan forgot her resentment in her surprise. + +"The 'Padre'! Why, I thought Mr. Kenyon was a farmer!" + +The man nodded. + +"So he is. You see folks call him Padre because he's a real good +feller," he explained. Then he added: "He's got white hair, too. A +whole heap of it. That sort o' clinched it." + +The dark eyes had become quite serious again. There was even a tender +light in them as he searched the girl's fair face. He was wondering +what was yet to come. He was wondering how this interview was to bear +on the future. In spite of his easy manner he dreaded lest the threats +of Mrs. Ransford were about to be put into execution. + +Joan accepted his explanation. + +"I see," she said. Then, after a pause: "Then who are you?" + +"Me? Oh, I'm 'Buck,'" he responded, with a short laugh. + +"Buck--who?" + +"Jest plain 'Buck.'" Again came that short laugh. + +"Mr. Kenyon's son?" + +The man shook his head, and Joan tried again. + +"His nephew?" + +Again came that definite shake. Joan persisted, but with growing +impatience. + +"Perhaps you're--his partner?" she said, feeling that if he again +shook his head she must inevitably shake him. + +But she was spared a further trial. Buck had been quick to realize +her disappointment. Nor had he any desire to inspire her anger. On the +contrary, his one thought was to please and help her. + +"You see we're not related. Ther's nuthin' between us but that he's +jest my great big friend," he explained. + +His reward came promptly in the girl's sunny smile. And the sight of +it quickened his pulses and set him longing to hold her again in his +arms as he had done only yesterday. Somehow she had taken a place in +his thoughts which left him feeling very helpless. He never remembered +feeling helpless before. It was as though her coming into his life had +robbed him of all his confidence. Yesterday he had found a woman +almost in rags. Yesterday she was in trouble, and it had seemed the +simplest thing in the world for him to take her in his arms and carry +her to the home he knew to be hers. Now--now, all that confidence was +gone. Now an indefinable barrier, but none the less real, had been +raised between them. It was a barrier he felt powerless to break down. +This beautiful girl, with her deep violet eyes and wonderful red-gold +hair, clad in her trim costume of lawn and serge, seemed to him like a +creature from an undreamed-of world, and as remote from him as if +thousands of miles separated them. He sighed as Joan went on with her +examination-- + +"I suppose you have come to fetch some of your big friend's +belongings?" she said pleasantly. + +For answer Buck suddenly flung out a protecting arm. + +"Say, you're sure getting mussed with that dirty litter," he said +almost reproachfully. "See, your fixin's are right agin it. Say----" + +Joan laughed outright at his look of profound concern. + +"That doesn't matter a bit," she exclaimed. "I must get used to being +'mussed-up.' You see, I'm a farmer--now." + +The other's concern promptly vanished. He loved to hear her laugh. + +"You never farmed any?" he asked. + +"Never." Joan shook her head in mock seriousness. "Isn't it desperate +of me? No, I'm straight from a city." + +Buck withdrew his gaze from her face and glanced out at the hills. But +it was only for a moment. His eyes came back as though drawn by a +magnet. + +"Guess you'll likely find it dull here--after a city," he said at +last. "Y' see, it's a heap quiet. It ain't quiet to me, but then I've +never been to a city--unless you call Leeson Butte a city. Some folks +feel lonesome among these big hills." + +"I don't think I shall feel lonesome," Joan said quickly. "The peace +and quiet of this big world is all I ask. I left the city to get away +from--oh, from the bustle of it all! Yes, I want the rest and quiet of +these hills more than anything else in the world." + +The passionate longing in her words left Buck wondering. But he nodded +sympathetically. + +"I'd say you'd get it right here," he declared. Then he turned toward +the great hills, and a subtle change seemed to come over his whole +manner. His dark eyes wore a deep, far-away look in which shone a +wonderfully tender affection. It was the face of a man who, perhaps +for the first time, realizes the extent and depth of his love for the +homeland which is his. + +"It's big--big," he went on, half to himself. "It's so big it +sometimes makes me wonder. Look at 'em," he cried, pointing out at the +purpling distance, "rising step after step till it don't seem they can +ever git bigger. An' between each step there's a sort of world +different from any other. Each one's hidden all up, so pryin' eyes +can't see into 'em. There's life in those worlds, all sorts of life. +An' it's jest fightin', lovin', dyin', eatin', sleepin', same as +everywhere else. There's a big story in 'em somewhere--a great big +story. An' it's all about the game of life goin' on in there, jest the +same as it does here, an' anywher'. Yes, it's a big story and hard to +read for most of us. Guess we don't ever finish readin' it, +anyway--until we die. Don't guess they intended us to. Don't guess it +would be good for us to read it easy." + +He turned slowly from the scene that meant so much to him, and smiled +into Joan's astonished eyes. + +"An' you're goin' to git busy--readin' that story?" he asked. + +The startled girl found herself answering almost before she was aware +of it. + +"I--I hope to," she said simply. + +Then she suddenly realized her own smallness. She felt almost +overpowered with the bigness of what the man's words had shown her. It +was wonderful to her the thought of this--this "scallawag." The word +flashed through her mind, and with it came an even fuller realization +of Mrs. Ransford's stupidity. The man's thought was the poet's insight +into Nature's wonderlands. He was speaking of that great mountain +world as though it were a religion to him, as if it represented some +treasured poetic ideal, or some lifelong, priceless friendship. + +She saw his answering nod of sympathy, and sighed her relief. Just for +one moment she had been afraid. She had been afraid of some sign of +pity, even contempt. She felt her own weakness without that. Now she +was glad, and went on with more confidence. + +"I'm going to start from the very beginning," she said, with something +akin to enthusiasm. "I'm going to start here--right here, on my very +own farm. Surely the rudiments must lie here--the rudiments that must +be mastered before the greater task of reading that story is begun." +She turned toward the blue hills, where the summer clouds were wrapped +about the glistening snowcaps. "Yes," she cried, clasping her hands +enthusiastically, "I want to learn it all--all." Suddenly she turned +back and looked at him with a wonderful, smiling simplicity. "Will you +help me?" she said eagerly. "Perhaps--in odd moments? Will you help me +with those--lessons?" + +Buck's breath came quickly, and his simple heart was set thumping in +his bosom. But his face was serious, and his eyes quite calm as he +nodded. + +"It'll be dead easy for you to learn," he said, a new deep note +sounding in his voice. "You'll learn anything I know, an' much more, +in no time. You can't help but learn. You'll be quicker to understand, +quicker to feel all those things. Y' see I've got no sort of +cleverness--nor nuthin'. I jest look around an' see things--an' then, +then I think I know." He laughed quietly at his own conceit. "Oh, yes! +sometimes I guess I know it all. An' then I get sorry for folks that +don't, an' I jest wonder how it comes everybody don't understand--same +as me. Then something happens." + +"Yes, yes." + +Joan was so eager she felt she could not wait for the pause that +followed. Buck laughed. + +"Something happens, same as it did yesterday," he went on. "Oh, it's +big--it sure is!" he added. And he turned again to his contemplation +of the hills. + +But Joan promptly recalled his wandering attention. + +"You mean--the storm?" she demanded. + +Buck nodded. + +"That--an' the other." + +"What--other?" + +"The washout," he said. + +Then, as he saw the look of perplexity in the wide violet eyes, he +went on to explain-- + +"You ain't heard? Why, there was a washout on Devil's Hill, where for +nigh a year they bin lookin' for gold. Y' see they knew the gold was +there, but couldn't jest locate it. For months an' months they ain't +seen a sign o' color. They bin right down to 'hard pan.' They wer' +jest starvin' their lives clear out. But they'd sank the'r pile in +that hill, an' couldn't bring 'emselves to quit. Then along comes the +storm, an' right wher' they're working it washes a great lump o' the +hill down. Hundreds o' thousands o' tons of rock an' stuff it would +have needed a train load of dynamite to shift." + +"Yes, yes." Joan's eagerness brought her a step nearer to him. "And +they found----" + +"Gold!" Buck laughed. "Lumps of it." + +"Gold--in lumps!" The girl's eyes widened with an excitement which the +discovery of the precious metal ever inspires. + +The man watched her thoughtfully. + +"Why aren't you there?" Joan demanded suddenly. + +"Can't jest say." Buck shrugged. "Maybe it's because they bin lookin' +fer gold, an'--wal, I haven't." + +"Gold--in lumps!" Again came the girl's amazed exclamation, and Buck +smiled at her enthusiasm. + +"Sure. An' they kind o' blame you for it. They sort o' fancy you +brought 'em their luck. Y' see it came when you got around their hut. +They say ther' wasn't no luck to the place till you brought it. An' +now----" + +Joan's eyes shone. + +"Oh, I'm so glad. I'm so glad I've brought them----" + +But her expression of joy was never completed. She broke off with a +sharp ejaculation, and the color died out of her cheeks, leaving her +so ghastly pale that the man thought she was about to faint. She +staggered back and leant for support against the wall of the barn, and +Buck sprang to her side. In a moment, however, she stood up and +imperiously waved him aside. + +There was no mistaking the movement. Her whole manner seemed to have +frozen up. The frank girlishness had died as completely as though it +had never been, and the man stood abashed, and at a loss for +understanding. + +Now he saw before him a woman still beautiful, but a woman whose eyes +had lost every vestige of that happy light. Despair was written in +every feature, despair and utter hopelessness. Her mouth, that +beautiful mouth so rich and delicate, was now tight shut as of one in +great suffering, and deep, hard lines had suddenly gathered about the +corners of it. The change smote him to the heart, but left him utterly +helpless. + +Realization had come. Joan had suddenly remembered all that lay behind +her--all that had driven her to seek the remoteness of the wild +Western world. She had sought to flee from the fate which her Aunt +Mercy had told her was hers, and now she knew that she might as well +try to flee from her own shadow. + +Oh, the horror of it all! These people believed that she had brought +them their luck. _She knew that she had._ What was the disaster that +must follow? What lives must go down before the sword a terrible Fate +had placed in her hand? For the moment panic held her in its grip. For +a moment it seemed that death alone could save her from the dread +consequences of the curse that was upon her. It was cruel, cruel--the +desolation, the hopelessness of it all. And in her sudden anguish she +prayed that death might be visited upon her. + +But even amidst the horror of her realization the influence of the +man's presence was at work. She knew he was there a witness to the +terror she could not hide, and so she strove for recovery. + +Then she heard him speak, and at the sound of his quiet tone her +nerves eased and she grew calmer. + +"I don't guess you recovered from the storm. I'd sure say you need +rest," Buck said in his gentle, solicitous fashion. And in her heart +Joan thanked him for the encouragement his words gave her. He had +asked no questions. He had expressed no astonishment, and yet she knew +he must have realized that her trouble was no physical ailment. + +"Yes," she said, jumping at the opening he had given her, "I'm tired. +I'll--I'll go back to the house." + +Buck nodded, disguising his anxiety beneath a calm that seemed so +natural to him. + +"Jest get back an' rest. You needn't worry any 'bout the hosses, an' +cows, an' things. I'm fixin' them for the night, an' I'll be right +along in the morning to do the chores. Y' see I know this farm, an' +all that needs doin'. Guess I was raised on it," he added, with a +smile, "so the work's sort o' second nature to me." + +Joan's chance had come, but she passed it by. She knew she ought to +have refused his help. She ought to have, as Mrs. Ransford had said, +sent him about his business. But she did nothing of the sort. She +accepted. She did more. She held out her hand to him, and let him take +it in both of his in a friendly pressure as she thanked him. + +"I'm--I'm very grateful," she said weakly. And the man flushed under +his sunburn, while his temples hammered as the hot young blood mounted +to his brain. + +A moment later Buck stood staring at the angle of the barn round which +Joan had just vanished. He was half-dazed, and the only thing that +seemed absolutely real to him was the gentle pressure of her hand as +it had rested in his. He could feel it still; he could feel every +pressure of the soft, warm flesh where it had lain on his hard palms. +And all the time he stood there his whole body thrilled with an +emotion that was almost painful. + +At last he stirred. He stooped and picked up the discarded fork. He +had no definite purpose. He was scarcely aware of his action. He held +it for a moment poised in the air. Then slowly he let the prongs of it +rest on the ground, and, leaning his chin on his hands clasped about +the haft, stared out at the hills and gave himself up to such a dream +as never before had entered his life. + +The sun was dipping behind the snowcaps, and for half an hour the work +he had voluntarily undertaken remained untouched. + +How much longer he would have remained lost in his wonderful dreaming +it would have been impossible to tell. But he was ruthlessly awakened, +and all his youthful ardor received a cold douche as the evening quiet +was suddenly broken by the harsh voices of the crowd of gold-seekers, +whom he suddenly beheld approaching the farm along the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE GOLDEN WOMAN + + +Buck wondered as he noted the extraordinary picture of jubilation +which the approaching crowd presented. In all his association with +these people he had never witnessed anything to equal it or even come +near it. He never remembered anything like a real outburst of joy +during the long, dreary months since they had first camped on the +banks of Yellow Creek. + +He watched the faces as they drew near. From the shelter of the barn, +whither he had retreated, he had them in full view. He looked for the +old, weary signs of their recent privations and sufferings. There were +none, not one. They had passed as utterly as though they had never +been. + +It was a spectacle in which he found the greatest pleasure. The men +were clad in their work-stained clothing, their only clothing. Their +faces remained unwashed, and still bore the accumulations of dusty +sweat from their day's fevered labors. But it was the light in their +eyes, their grinning faces, the buoyancy of their gait that held him. +He heard their voices lifted in such a tone as would have seemed +impossible only a few days ago. The loud, harsh laugh, accompanying +inconsequent jests and jibes, it was good to hear. These men were +tasting the sweets of a moment of perfect happiness. Buck knew well +enough that soon, probably by the morrow, the moment would have +passed, and they would have settled again to the stern calling of +their lives. + +All his sympathy was with them, and their joy was reflected in his own +feelings. Their hope was his hope, their buoyancy was his buoyancy. +For his happiness was complete at the moment, and thus he was left +free to feel with those others. Such was his own wonderful exaltation +that the thought of the termination of these people's suffering was +the final note that made his joy complete. + +He laid his fork aside and waited till they had passed his retreat. +The object of their journey was obviously the farmhouse, and he felt +that he must learn their further purpose. He remembered Joan's going +from him. He had seen the pain and trouble in her beautiful eyes, and +so he feared that the sudden rush of animal spirits in these people +would drive them to extravagances, well enough meant, but which might +worry and even alarm her. + +He moved quickly out of the barn and looked after them. They had +reached the house, and stood like a herd of subdued and silly sheep +waiting for a sign from their leader. It was a quaint sight. The laugh +and jest had died out, and only was the foolish grin left. Yes, they +certainly had a definite purpose in their minds, but they equally +certainly were in doubt as to how it should be carried out. + +Buck drew nearer without attracting their attention. The men were so +deeply engaged with the dilemma of the moment that he might almost +have joined the group without observation. But he merely desired to be +on hand to help should the troubled girl need his help. He had no +desire to take active part in the demonstration. As he came near he +heard Beasley's voice, and the very sound of it jarred unpleasantly on +his ears. The man was talking in that half-cynical fashion which was +never without an added venom behind it. + +"Well," he heard him exclaim derisively, "wot's doin'? You're all +mighty big talkers back ther' in camp, but I don't seem to hear any +bright suggestions goin' around now. You start this gorl-durned racket +like a pack o' weak-headed fools, yearnin' to pitch away what's been +chucked right into your fool laps jest fer one o' Blue Grass Pete's +fat-head notions. Well, wot's doin'? I ask." + +"You ke'p that ugly map o' yours closed," cried Pete hotly. "_You_ +ain't bein' robbed any." + +"Guess I'll see to that," retorted Beasley, with a grin. "The feller +that robs me'll need to chew razors fer a pastime. If it comes to that +you're yearnin' fer glory at the Padre's expense--as usual." + +Buck's ears tingled, and he drew closer. Beasley always had a knack of +so blending truth with his personal venom that it stung far more than +downright insult. He wondered what the Padre's generosity had been, +and wherein lay its connection with their present purpose. The +explanation was not long in coming, for Montana Ike took up the +challenge amidst a storm of ominous murmurs from the gathered men. + +"Don't take nuthin' from him," cried the youngster scornfully. Then he +turned on Beasley fiercely. "You need Buck around to set you right, +Mister Lousy Beasley," he cried. "We ain't robbin' anybody, an' sure +not the Padre. He found that nugget, an' it's his to give or do wot he +likes with. The gal brought us the luck, an' the Padre guessed it was +only right she should have the first find. That nugget was the first +find, an' the Padre found it. Wal!" But as no reply was forthcoming he +hurried on, turning his tongue loose in the best abuse he could +command at the moment. "You're a rotten sort o' skunk anyway, an' you +ain't got a decent thought in your diseased head. I'd like to say +right here that you hate seein' a sixty-ounce lump o' gold in any +other hands than your own dirty paws. That's your trouble, so jest +shut right up while better folks handles a matter wot's a sight too +delicate fer a rotten mind like yours." + +The smile had returned to every face except the foxy features of the +ex-Churchman, who for once had no adequate retort ready. Curly +Saunders nodded appreciation, and helped to solve the momentary +dilemma prevailing. + +"That's sure done it fer you, Montana," he cried gleefully. "You make +the presentation. I'd say I never heard so elegant a flow of argyment +in this yer camp. You'll talk most pretty to the leddy." + +"An' it ain't fer me to say I can't do it if need be, neither," said +Montana modestly. "Don't guess it's much of a stunt yappin' pretty to +a sorrel-topped gal." + +Abe Allinson laughed. + +"It's sure up to you, Ike," he said. "Guess you best git busy right +away." + +The rest waited for the youngster's acceptance of the responsibility, +which promptly came with perfect good-will. + +"Gee! But you're a gritty outfit," he cried, with a wide grin. +"Say, I guess you'd need a fence around you shootin' jack-rabbits. +Jack-rabbits is ter'ble fierce. Guess you'd most be skeered to death +at a skippin' lamb bleatin' fer its mother. Can't say I ever heerd +tell as a feller need be skeered of a pair o' gal's eyes, nor a sight +o' red ha'r. You said it was red, Pete, didn't you? I'd sure say a +bright feller don't need to worry any over talkin' pretty to a gal +like that. She's up agin a proposition if she thinks she ken skeer me. +Wher' is she? Jest call her out. She's goin' to git her med'cine right +here in the open. I ain't doin' no parlor tricks." + +The boy stood out from the crowd with a decided show of mild bravado, +but he glanced about him, seeking the moral support of his fellows. + +"You best knock on the door, Ike," said Curly quietly. + +Ike hesitated. Then he turned doubtfully to those behind. + +"You--you mean that?" he inquired. "You ain't foolin' none?" Then, as +though realizing his own weakness, he began to bluster. "Cos I ain't +takin' no foolin' in a racket o' this sort. An' any feller thinks he +ken fool me'll sure hate hisself when I'm through with him." + +A mild snicker greeted his "big talk," and the boy flushed hotly. He +was half-inclined to add further resentment, but, second thoughts +prevailing, he abruptly turned to the door and hammered on it as +though anticipating stern resistance from those within. + + * * * * * + +Inside the house Mrs. Ransford was debating the situation with her +mistress. She had witnessed the advance of the besieging party, and, +half-frightened and half-resentful, the latter perhaps the more +plainly manifested, she was detailing in unmeasured terms her opinions +and fears to the still harassed girl. + +"Jest git a peek at 'em through the window, miss--'ma'm' I should say, +on'y I don't allus remember right, as you might say. Ther's twenty an' +more o' the lowest down bums ever I see outside a State penitentiary. +They're sure the most ter'blest lot ever I did see. An' they got +'emselves fixed up wi' guns an' knives, an' what not an' sech, till +you can't see the color o' their clothes fer the dirt on 'em. I'll +swar' to goodness, as the sayin' is, they ain't never see no water +sence they was christened, if they ever was christened, which I don't +believe no gospel preacher would ever so demean himself. An' as fer +soap, say, they couldn't even spell it if you was to hand 'em the +whole soap fact'ry literature of a fi'-cent daily noos-sheet. They're +jest ter'ble, an' it seems to me we sure need a reg'ment o' United +States Cavalry settin' around on horses an' field guns to pertect us, +ef we're to farm this one-hossed layout. They're 'bad men,' mum, +miss--which I made a mistake ag'in--that's wot they are. I've read +about 'em in the fi'-cent comics, so I sure know 'em when I see 'em. +You can't never make no mistake. They're jest goin' to shoot us all up +to glory, an' they'll dance around on our corpses, same as if they was +nuthin', nor no account anyways." + +In spite of her recent shock Joan found herself smiling at the strange +mixture of fear and anger in the old woman's manner. But she felt it +necessary to check her flow of wild accusations. She guessed easily +enough who the men were that were approaching the house, but their +object remained a mystery. + +"You're hasty. You mustn't judge these people by their appearance. +They're----" + +But the feverish tongue was promptly set clacking again. + +"An' wot, I asks, is they to be judged by if not by wot they are? They +jest come along a-yowlin', an' a-shootin' off'n their guns an' things, +same as they allus do when they's on the war-path. Scalps, that's wot +they's after. Scalps, no more an' no less. An' to think o' me at my +time o' life a-fallin' a prey to Injuns, as you might say. Oh, if on'y +my pore George D. Ransford was alive! He'd 'a' give 'em scalps. He was +a man, sure, even though he did set around playin' poker all night +when I was in labor with my twins. He was a great fighter was George +D.--as the marks on my body ken show to this very day." + +At that instant there was a terrific knocking at the door which opened +directly into the parlor in which the waiting women were standing, and +the farm-wife jumped and staggered back, and, finally, collapsed into +an adjacent chair. + +"Sakes on us," she cried, her fat face turning a sort of pea-green, +"if only my pore George D.----" + +But Joan's patience could stand no more. + +"For goodness' sake go back to your kitchen, you absurd creature. I'll +see to the matter. I----" + +But the old woman wobbled to her feet almost weeping. + +"Now, don't 'ee, miss," she cried in her tearful anxiety, getting her +form of address right the first time. "Don't 'ee be rash. Ther'll be +blood spilt, ther' sure will. Ther's on'y one way, miss, you must talk +'em nice, an', an' if they go fer to take liberties, you--why you," +she edged toward her kitchen, "you jest send for me right away." + +She hurried out, and the moment she was out of sight fled +precipitately to the farthest extremity of her own domain and armed +herself with the heavy iron shaker of the cook-stove. + +In the meantime Joan went to the door and flung it wide open. In spite +of the farm-wife's warnings she had not a shadow of doubt as to the +peaceful object of the visitation, and rather felt that in some sort +of way it was intended as an expression of good-will and greeting. Had +not Buck told her that they held her in the light of some sort of +benefactor? So she stood in the doorway erect and waiting, with a calm +face, on which there was not a shadow of a smile. + +She took in the gathering at a glance, and her eyes came to rest upon +the foremost figure of Montana Ike. She noted his slim, boyish figure, +the weak, animal expression shining in his furtive eyes. To her he +looked just what he was, a virile specimen of reckless young manhood, +of vicious and untamed spirit. She saw at once that he was standing +out from his companions, and understood that, for the moment at least, +he was their leader. + +"Good-evening," she said, her attitude mechanically unbending. + +"Evenin', miss," responded Ike bravely, and then relapsed into a +violent condition of blushing through his dirt. + +He stood there paralyzed at the girl's beauty. He just gaped foolishly +at her, his eyes seeking refuge in dwelling upon the well-cut skirt +she wore and the perfect whiteness of the lawn shirt-waist, which +permitted the delicate pink tinge of her arms and shoulders to show +through it. + +All his bravery was gone--all his assurance. If his life had depended +on it not one word of an address on behalf of his fellows could he +have uttered. + +Joan saw his confusion, and mercifully came to his rescue. + +"You wish to see me?" she inquired, with a smile which plunged the boy +into even more hopeless confusion. + +As no answer was forthcoming she looked appealingly at the other +faces. + +"It's very kind of you all to come here," she said gently. "Is--is +there anything I can--do for you?" + +Suddenly Beasley's voice made itself heard. + +"Git busy, Ike, you're spokesman," he cried. "Git on with the +presentation--ladle out the ad--dress. You're kind o' lookin' +foolish." + +He followed up his words with his unpleasant laugh, and it was the +sting the youthful leader needed. + +He turned fiercely on the speaker, his momentary paralysis all +vanished. + +"Ef I'm spokesman," he cried, "guess we don't need no buttin' in from +Beasley Melford." Then he turned again quickly. "Astin' your pardon, +miss," he added apologetically. + +"That's all right," said Joan, smiling amiably. "What are you +'spokesman' for?" + +The boy grinned foolishly. + +"Can't rightly say, missie." Then he jerked his head in his comrades' +direction. "Guess if you was to ast _them_, they'd call theirselves +_men_." + +"I didn't say 'who,' I said 'what,'" Joan protested, with a laugh at +his desperately serious manner. + +"'What?'" he murmured, smearing his dirty forehead with a horny hand +in the effort of his task. Then he brightened. "Why, gener'ly +speakin'," he went on, with sudden enthusiasm, "they ain't much +better'n skippin' sheep. Y' see they want to but darsent. +So--wal--they jest set me up to sling the hot air." + +The girl looked appealingly at the rough faces for assistance. But +instead of help she only beheld an expression of general discontent +turned on the unconscious back of the spokesman. And coming back to +the boy she pursued the only course possible. + +"I--I don't think I quite understand," she said. + +Ike readily agreed with her. + +"I'm durned sure you can't," he cried heartily. "They jest think it a +rotten kind of a job handin' a red-ha'r'd gal a few words an' an +a'mighty fine hunk o' gold. That's cos they ain't been dragged up jest +right. You can't expect elegant feedin' at a hog trough. Now it's kind +o' diff'rent wi' me. I----" + +"Oh, quit," cried the sharp voice of the exasperated Abe Allinson. And +there was no doubt but he was speaking for the rest of the audience. + +Pete followed him in a tone of equal resentment. + +"That ain't no sort o' way ad--dressin' a leddy," he said angrily. + +"Course it ain't," sneered Beasley. "Ther's sure bats roostin' in your +belfry, Ike." + +The boy jumped round on the instant. His good-nature could stand the +jibes of his comrades generally, but Beasley's sneers neither he nor +any one else could endure. + +"Who's that yappin'?" the youngster cried, glowering into the +speaker's face. "That the feller Buck called an outlaw passon?" he +demanded. His right hand slipped to the butt of his gun. "Say you," +he cried threateningly, "if you got anything to say I'm right here +yearnin' to listen." + +Joan saw the half-drawn weapon, and in the same instant became aware +of a movement on the part of the man Beasley. She was horrified, +expecting one of those fierce collisions she had heard about. But the +moment passed, and, though she did not realize it, it was caused by +Ike's gun leaving its holster first. + +Her woman's fear urged her, and she raised a protesting hand. + +"Please--please," she cried, her eyes dilating with apprehension. +"What have I done that you should come here to quarrel?" + +Buck in the background smiled. He was mentally applauding the girl's +readiness, while he watched the others closely. + +Ike turned to her again, and his anger had merged into a comical look +of chagrin. + +"Y' see, missie," he said in a fresh tone of apology, "ther's fellers +around here wi' no sort o' manners. They're scairt to death makin' a +big talk to a red-ha'r'd gal, so I jest got to do it. An' I sez it, it +ain't easy, folks like me speechin' to folks like you----" + +"Oh, git on!" cried Pete in a tired voice. + +"Your hot air's nigh freezin'," laughed Soapy Kid. + +"Quit it," cried Ike hotly. "Ain't they an ignorant lot o' hogs?" he +went on, appealing to the smiling girl. "Y' see, missie, we're right +glad you come along. We're prospectin' this layout fer gold an'----" + +"An' we ain't had no sort o' luck till you got around," added Pete +hastily. + +"In the storm," nodded Curly Saunders. + +"All mussed-up an' beat to hell," cried Ike, feeling that he was being +ousted from his rights. + +"Yes, an' Buck carried you to home, an' rode in fer the doc, an' had +you fixed right," cried Abe. + +Ike looked round indignantly. + +"Say, is youse fellers makin' this big talk or me? ain't yearnin', if +any feller's lookin' fer glory." + +His challenge was received with a chorus of laughter. + +"You're doin' fine," cried the Kid. + +Ike favored the speaker with a contemptuous stare and returned to his +work. He shrugged. + +"They ain't no account anyway, missie," he assured her, "guess they're +sore. Wal, y' see you come along in the storm, an' what should happen +but the side o' Devil's Hill drops out, an' sets gold rollin' around +like--like taters fallin' through a rotten sack. 'Gold?' sez we, an' +gold it is. 'Who bro't us sech luck?' we asts. An' ther' it is right +ther', so ther' can't be no mistake. Jest a pore, sick gal wi' red +ha'r, all beat to hell an'----" + +"Gee, ain't it beautiful!" sneered Curly. + +Soapy pretended to weep, and Abe thumped him heavily on the back. + +"Cheer up, Kid," he grinned. "'Tain't as bad as it seems. Ike'll feel +better after he's had his vittles." + +Pete sniggered. + +"Ain't he comic?" he cried. Then, seizing the opportunity, while Ike +turned round to retort he hustled him aside and usurped his place. + +"Say, missie, it's jest this, you're the Golden Woman who bro't us our +luck. Some of us ain't got your name right, nor nuthin'. Anyway that +don't figger nuthin'. We ain't had no luck till you come along, so +you're jest our Golden Woman, an' we're goin' to hand you----" + +Joan started back as though the man had struck her. Her beautiful +cheeks went a ghastly pallor. + +"No--no!" she cried half-wildly. + +"And why for not?" demanded Pete. + +"But my name is Joan," she cried, a terrible dread almost overpowering +her. "You see 'Golden' isn't my real name," she explained, without +pausing to think. "That's only a nickname my father ga--gave me. I--I +was christened 'Joan.'" + +Pete slapped his thigh heavily, and a great grin spread over his face. + +"Say, don't it beat the band?" he cried in wild delight. "Don't it?" +he repeated, appealing to the world at large. "'Golden.' That's her +name, an' we only hit on it cos she's got gold ha'r, an' bro't us +gold. An' all the time her pa used to call her 'Golden.' Can you beat +it?" Then he looked into Joan's face with admiring eyes. "Say, missie, +that's your name for jest as long as you stop around this layout. +That's her name, ain't it, boys?" He appealed to the crowd. "Here, +give it her good an' plenty, boys. Hooray for the 'Golden Woman'!" + +Instantly the air was filled with a harsh cheering that left the girl +almost weeping in her terror and misery. But the men saw nothing of +the effect of their good-will. They were only too glad to be able to +find such an outlet to their feelings. When the cheering ceased Pete +thrust out an arm toward her. His palm was stretched open, and lying +on it was the great yellow nugget that the Padre had found--the first +find of the "strike." + +"That's it, missie," he cried, his wild eyes rolling delightedly. +"Look right ther'. That's fer you. The Padre found it, an' it's his +to give, an' he sent it to you. That's the sort o' luck you bro't us." + +The crowd closed in with necks craning to observe the wonderful nugget +of gold; to the finding of its kind their lives were devoted. Beasley +was at Pete's elbow, the greediest of them all. + +"It wasn't no scrapin' an' scratchin' luck," the enthusiastic Pete +hurried on. "It was gold in hunks you bro't us." + +Beasley's eyes lit, and Buck, watching closely, edged in. + +"It's a present to you, missie," Pete went on. "That's wot we come +for. Jest to hand you that nugget. Nigh sixty ounces solid gold, an' +the first found at this yer camp." + +Balanced on his hand he thrust it farther out for the girl to take, +but she shrank back. Beasley saw the movement and laughed. He pointed +at it and leered up into her face. + +"You're sure right," he cried. "Don't you touch it. Jest look at it. +Say, can't you fellers see, or are you blind? She ain't blind. She can +see. She's seen wot's ther'. It's a death's head. Gold? Gee, I tell +you it's a death's head! Look at them eye-sockets," he cried, pointing +at the curious moulding of the nugget. "Ther's the nose bones, an' the +jaw. Look at them teeth, too, all gold-filled, same as if a dentist +had done 'em." He laughed maliciously. "It's a dandy present fer a +lady. A keepsake!" + +The men were crowding to see the markings which Beasley pointed out. +They were quite plain. They were so obvious that something like horror +lit the superstitious faces. Beasley, watching, saw that he had made +his point, so he hurried on-- + +"Don't you touch it, miss," he cried gleefully, as though he +thoroughly enjoyed delivering his warning. "It's rotten luck if you +do. That gold is Devil's gold. It's come from Devil's Hill, in a +Devil's storm. It's a death's head, an' there's all the trouble in the +world in it. There's----" + +His prophecy remained uncompleted. He was suddenly caught by a +powerful hand, and the next instant he found himself swung to the +outskirts of the crowd with terrific force. + +In a furious rage he pulled himself together just in time to see Buck, +pale with anger, seize the nugget from Pete's outstretched palm. + +"You don't need to worry with the trouble in that gold," he said with +biting coldness, raising it at arm's length above his head. + +Then before any one was aware of his intention he flung it with all +his force upon the flagstone at Joan's feet. Quickly he stooped and +picked it up again, and again flung it down with all his strength. He +repeated the process several times, and finally held it out toward the +troubled girl. + +"You ken take it now," he said, his whole manner softening. "Guess +Beasley's 'death's head' has gone--to its grave. Ther' ain't no sort +o' trouble can hurt any, if--you only come down on it hard enough. The +trouble ain't in that gold now, only in the back of Beasley's head. +An' when it gets loose, wal--I allow there's folks around here won't +see it come your way. You can sure take it now." + +Joan reached out a timid hand, while her troubled violet eyes looked +into Buck's face as though fascinated. The man moved a step nearer, +and the small hand closed over the battered nugget. + +"Take it," he said encouragingly. "It's an expression of the good +feelings of the boys. An' I don't guess you need be scared of _them_." + +Joan took the gold, but there was no smile in her eyes, no thanks on +her lips. She stepped back to her doorway and passed within. + +"I'm tired," she said, and her words were solely addressed to Buck. He +nodded, while she closed the door. Then he turned about. + +"Wal!" he said. + +And his manner was a decided dismissal. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CALL OF YOUTH + + +The fur fort was a relic of ancient days, when the old-time traders of +the North sent their legions of pelt hunters from the far limits of +the northern ice-world to the sunny western slopes of the great +American continent. It was at such a place as this, hemmed in amidst +the foot-hills, that they established their factor and his handful of +armed men; lonely sentries at the gates of the mountain world, to levy +an exorbitant tax upon the harvest of furs within. + +Here, within the ponderous stockade, now fallen into sore decay, +behind iron-bound doors secured by mighty wooden locks, and barred +with balks of timber, sheltered beneath the frowning muzzles of half a +dozen futile carronades, they reveled in obscene orgies and committed +their barbaric atrocities under the name of Justice and Commerce. Here +they amassed wealth for the parent companies in distant lands, and +ruthlessly despoiled the wild of its furry denizens. + +These were the pioneers, sturdy savages little better than the red man +himself, little better in their lives than the creatures upon which +they preyed. But they were for the most part men, vigorous, dauntless +men who not only made history, but prepared the way for those who were +to come after, leaving them a heritage of unsurpassable magnificence. + +Now, this old-time relic afforded a shelter for two lonely men, whose +only emulation of their predecessors was in the craft that was theirs. +In all else there remained nothing in common, unless it were that +common asset of all pioneers, a sturdy courage. They certainly lacked +nothing of this. But whereas the courage of their predecessors, +judging them by all historical records, in quality belonged largely to +the more brutal side of life, these men had no such inspiration. Their +calling was something in the nature of a passionate craving for the +exercise of wits and instincts in a hard field where the creatures of +the wild meet the human upon almost equal terms. + +Isolation was nothing new to these men. The remotenesses of the back +world had been their life for years. They understood its every mood, +and met them with nerves in perfect tune. The mountains filled their +whole outlook. They desired nothing better, nothing more. + +Yet it seemed strange that this should be. For the Padre had not +always lived beyond the fringes of civilization. He was a man of +education, a man of thought and even culture. These things must have +been obvious to the most casual observer. In Buck's case it was easier +to understand. He had known no other life than this. And yet he, too, +might well have been expected to look askance at a future lost to all +those things which he knew to lay beyond. Was he not at the threshold +of life? Were not his veins thrilling with the rich, red tide of +youth? Were not all those instincts which go to make up the sum of +young human life as much a part of him as of those others who haunted +the banks of Yellow Creek? The whole scheme was surely unusual. The +Padre's instinct was to roam deeper and deeper into the wild, and +Buck, offered his release from its wondrous thrall, had refused it. + +Thus they embraced this new home. The vast and often decaying timbers, +hewn out of the very forests they loved, cried out with all the old +associations they bore and held them. The miniature citadel contained +within the trenchant stockade, the old pelt stores, roofless and +worm-eaten, the armory which still suggested the clank of half-armored +men, who lived only for the joy of defying death. The factor's house, +whence, in the days gone by, the orders for battle had been issued, +and the sentence of life and death had been handed out with scant +regard for justice. Then there were the ruined walls of the +common-room, where the fighting men had caroused and slept. The scenes +of frightful orgies held in this place were easy to conjure. All these +things counted in a manner which perhaps remained unacknowledged by +either. But nevertheless they were as surely a part of the lure as the +chase itself, with all its elemental attraction. + +They had restored just as much of the old factor's house as they +needed for their simple wants. Two rooms were all they occupied, two +rooms as simple and plain as their own lives. Buck had added a new +roof of logs and clay plaster. He had set up two stretchers with +straw-stuffed paillasses for beds. He had manufactured a powerful +table, and set it upon legs cut from pine saplings. To this he had +added the removal of a cook-stove and two chairs, and their own +personal wardrobe from the farm, and so the place was complete. Yet +not quite. There was an arm rack upon the wall of the living-room, an +arm rack that had at one time doubtless supported the old flintlocks +of the early fur hunters. This he had restored, and laden it with +their own armory and the spare traps of their craft; while their only +luxury was the fastening up beside the doorway of a frameless +looking-glass for shaving purposes. + +They required a place to sleep in, a place in which to store their +produce, a place in which to break their fast and eat their meal at +dusk. Here it lay, ready to their hand, affording them just these +simple necessities, and so they adopted it. + +But the new life troubled the Padre in moments when he allowed himself +to dwell upon the younger man's future. He had offered him his +release, at the time he had parted with the farm, from a sense of +simple duty. It would have been a sore blow to him had Buck accepted, +yet he would have submitted readily, even gladly, for he felt that +with the passing of the farm out of their hands he had far more +certainly robbed Buck of all provision for his future than he had +deprived himself, who was the actual owner. He felt that in seeking to +help the little starving colony he had done it, in reality, at Buck's +expense. + +Something of this was in his mind as he pushed away from their frugal +breakfast-table. He stood in the doorway filling his pipe, while Buck +cleared the tin plates and pannikins and plunged them into the boiler +of hot water on the stove. + +He leant his stalwart shoulders against the door casing, and stared +out at the wooded valley which crossed the front of the house. Beyond +it, over the opposite rise, he could see the dim outline of the crest +of Devil's Hill several miles away. + +He felt that by rights Buck should be there--somewhere there beyond +the valley. Not because the youngster had any desire for the wealth +that was flowing into the greedy hands of the gold-seekers. It was +simply the thought of a man who knows far more of the world than he +cares to remember. He felt that in all honesty he should point out the +duties of a man to himself in these days when advancement alone +counts, and manhood, without worldly position, goes for so very +little. He was not quite sure that Buck didn't perfectly understand +these things for himself. He had such a wonderful understanding and +insight. However, his duty was plain, and it was not his way to shrink +from it. + +Buck was sprinkling the earth floor preparatory to sweeping it when +the Padre let his eyes wander back into the room. + +"Got things fixed?" he inquired casually. + +"Mostly." Buck began to sweep with that practiced hand which never +raises a dust on an earthen floor. + +The Padre watched his movements thoughtfully. + +"Seems queer seeing you sweeping and doing chores like a--a hired +girl." He laughed presently. + +Buck looked up and rested on his broom. He smilingly surveyed his +early benefactor and friend. + +"What's worryin'?" he inquired in his direct fashion. + +The Padre stirred uneasily. He knocked the ashes from his pipe and +pressed the glowing tobacco down with the head of a rusty nail. + +"Oh, nothing worrying," he said, turning back to his survey of the +valley beyond the decaying stockade. "The sun'll be over the hilltops +in half an hour," he went on. + +But the manner of his answer told Buck all he wanted to know. He too +glanced out beyond the valley. + +"Yes," he ejaculated, and went on sweeping. A moment later he paused +again. "Guess I can't be out at the traps till noon. Mebbe you ken do +without me--till then?" + +"Sure." The Padre nodded at the valley. Then he added: "I've been +thinking." + +"'Bout that gold strike? 'Bout me? You bin thinkin' I ought to quit +the traps, an'--make good wi' them. I know." + +The elder man turned back sharply and looked into the dark eyes with a +shrewd smile. + +"You generally get what I'm thinking," he said. + +"Guess you're not much of a riddle--to me," Buck laughed, drawing the +moist dust into a heap preparatory to picking it up. + +The Padre laughed too. + +"Maybe you know how I'm feeling about things, then? Y' see there's +nothing for you now but half the farm money. That's yours anyway. It +isn't a pile. Seems to me you ought to be--out there making a big +position for yourself." He nodded in the direction of Devil's Hill. + +"Out of gold?" + +"Why not? It's an opportunity." + +"What for?" Buck inquired, without a semblance of enthusiasm. + +"Why, for going ahead--with other folks." + +Buck nodded. + +"I know. Goin' to a city with a big pile. A big house. Elegant +clothes. Hired servants. Congress. Goin' around with a splash of big +type in the noospapers." + +"That's not quite all, Buck." The man at the door shook his head. "A +man when he rises doesn't need to go in for--well, for vulgar display. +There are a heap of other things besides. What about the intellectual +side of civilization? What about the advancement of good causes? What +about--well, all those things we reckon worth while out here? Then, +too, you'll be marrying some day." + +Buck picked up the dust and carefully emptied it into the blazing +stove. He watched it burn for a moment, and then replaced the round +iron top. + +"Marryin' needs--all those things?" he inquired at last. + +"Well, I wouldn't say that," returned the other quickly. He knew +something was lying behind Buck's quiet manner, and it made him a +little uncomfortable. "Most men find a means of marrying when they +want to--if they're men. Look here," he went on, with a sudden +outburst of simple candor, "I want to be fair to you, and I want you +to be fair to yourself. There's an opportunity over there"--he pointed +with his pipe in the direction of Devil's Hill--"an opportunity to +make a pile, which will help you to take a position in the world. I +don't want you to stay with me from any mistaken sense of gratitude or +duty. It is my lot, and my desire, to remain in these hills. But +you--you've got your life before you. You can rise to the top if you +want to. I know you. I know your capacity. Take your share of the farm +money, and--get busy." + +"An' if I don't want to--get busy?" Buck's dark eyes were alight with +a curious, intense warmth. + +The Padre shrugged and pushed his pipe into the corner of his mouth. + +"There's nothing more to be said," he replied. + +"But ther' is, Padre. There sure is," cried Buck, stepping over to him +and laying one hand on the great shoulder nearest him. "I get all you +say. I've got it long ago. You bin worryin' to say all this since ever +you got back from sellin' the farm. An' it's like you. But you an' me +don't jest figger alike. You got twenty more years of the world than +me, so your eyes look around you different. That's natural. You're +guessin' that hill is an opportunity for me. Wal, I'm guessin' it +ain't. Mebbe it is for others, but not for me. I got my opportunity +twenty years ago, an' you give me that opportunity. I was starvin' to +death then, an' you helped me out. You're my opportunity, an' it makes +me glad to think of it. Wher' you go I go, an' when we both done, why, +I guess it won't be hard to see that what I done an' what you done was +meant for us both to do. We're huntin' pelts for a livin' now, an' +when the time comes for us to quit it, why, we'll both quit it +together, an' so it'll go on. It don't matter wher' it takes us. Say," +he went on, turning away abruptly. "Guess I'll jest haul the drinkin' +water before I get." + +The Padre turned his quiet eyes on the slim back. + +"And what about when you think of marrying?" he asked shrewdly. + +Buck paused to push the boiler off the stove. He shook his head and +pointed at the sky. + +"Guess the sun's gettin' up," he said. + +The Padre laughed and prepared to depart. + +"Where you off to this morning?" he inquired presently. + +"That gal ain't got a hired man, yet," Buck explained simply, as he +picked up his saddle. Then he added ingenuously, "Y' see I don't guess +she ken do the chores, an' the old woman ain't got time to--for +talkin'." + +The Padre nodded while he bent over the breech of his Winchester. He +had no wish for Buck to see the smile his words had conjured. + +Buck swung his saddle on to his shoulder and passed out of the hut in +the direction of the building he had converted into a barn. And when +he had gone the Padre looked after him. + +"He says she's handsome, with red-gold hair and blue eyes," he +murmured. Then a far-away look stole into his steady eyes, and their +stare fixed itself upon the doorway of the barn through which Buck had +just vanished. "Curious," he muttered. "They've nicknamed her +'Golden,' which happened to be a nickname--her father gave her." + +He stood for some moments lost in thought. Then, suddenly pulling +himself together, he shouldered his rifle and disappeared into the +woods. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A WHIRLWIND VISIT + + +Joan was idling dispiritedly over her breakfast. A long, wakeful night +had at last ended in the usual aching head and eyes ringed with +shadows. She felt dreary, and looked forward drearily to inspecting +her farm--which, in her normal state, would have inspired nothing but +perfect delight--with something like apprehension. + +Her beginning in the new life had been swamped in a series of +disastrous events which left her convinced of the impossibility of +escape from the painful shadow of the past. All night her brain had +been whirling in a perfect chaos of thought as she reviewed her advent +to the farm. There had been nothing, from her point of view, but +disaster upon disaster. First her arrival. Then--why, then the "luck" +of the gold find. In her eyes, what was that but the threat of +disaster to come? Had not her aunt told her that this extraordinary +luck that she must ever bring was part of the curse shadowing her +life? Then the coincidence of her nickname. It was truly hideous. The +very incongruity of it made it seem the most terrible disaster of all. +Surely, more than anything else, it pointed the hand of Fate. It was +her father's nickname for her, and he--he had been the worst sufferer +at her hands. + +The whole thing seemed so hopeless, so useless. What was the use of +her struggle against this hateful fate? A spirit of rebellion urged +her, and she felt half-inclined to abandon herself to the life that +was hers; to harden herself, and, taking the cup life offered her, +drain it to the dregs. Why should she waste her life battling with a +force which seemed all-powerful? Why should she submit to the terror +of it? What were the affairs of these others to her? She was not +responsible. Nothing in the whole sane world of ethics could hold her +responsible. + +The spirit of rebellion, for the moment, obtained the upper hand. She +had youth; Fortune had bestowed a face and figure upon her that she +need not be ashamed of, and a healthy capacity for enjoyment. Then why +should she abandon all these gifts because of a fate for which she was +in no way responsible? + +She pushed back her chair from the table, and crossed to the open +front door. + +The sun was not yet up, and the morning air was dewy and fresh with +perfumes such as she had never experienced in St. Ellis. It was--yes, +it was good to be alive on such a day in spite of everything. + +She glanced out over the little farm--her farm. Yes, it was all hers, +bought and paid for, and she still had money for all her needs and to +do those things she wanted to do. She turned away and looked back into +the little parlor with its simple furnishings, its mannish odds and +ends upon the wall. She heard the sounds of the old housekeeper busy +in her heavy, blundering way with the domestic work of her home. She +had so many plans for the future, and every one in its inception had +given her the greatest delight. Now--now this hideous skeleton had +stepped from its cupboard and robbed her of every joy. No, she would +not stand it. She would steel her heart to these stupid, girlish +superstitions. She would-- + +Her gloomy reflections were abruptly cut short. There was a rush and +clatter. In a perfect whirlwind of haste a horseman dashed up, dragged +his horse back on to its haunches as he pulled up, and flung out of +the saddle. + +It was the boy, Montana Ike. He grabbed his disreputable hat from his +ginger head, and stared agape at the vision of loveliness he had come +in search of. + +"Good--good-morning," Joan said, hardly knowing how to greet this +strange apparition. + +The boy nodded, and moistened his lips as though consumed by a sudden +thirst. + +For a moment they stared stupidly at each other. Then Joan, feeling +the awkwardness of the situation, endeavored to relieve it. + +"Daylight?" she exclaimed interrogatively, "and you not yet out at +the--where the gold is?" + +Ike shook his head and grinned the harder. Then his tongue loosened, +and his words came with a sudden rush that left the girl wondering. + +"Y' see the folks is eatin' breakfast," he said. "Y' see I jest cut it +right out, an' come along. I heard Pete--you know Blue Grass +Pete--he's a low-down Kentuckian--he said he tho't some un orter git +around hyar case you was queer after last night. Sed he guessed he +would. Guess I'll git back 'fore they're busy. It'll take 'em all +hustlin' to git ahead o' me." + +"That's very kind," Joan replied mechanically. But the encouragement +was scarcely needed. The boy rushed on, like a river in flood time. + +"Oh, it ain't zac'ly kind!" he said. "Y' see they're mostly a low-down +lot, an' Pete's the low-downest. He's bad, is Pete, an' ain't no +bizness around a leddy. Then Beasley Melford. He's jest a durned skunk +anyways. Don't guess Curly Saunders ain't much account neither. He +makes you sick to death around a whisky bottle. Abe Allinson, he's +sort o' mean, too. Y' see Abe's Slaney Dick's pardner, an' they bin +workin' gold so long they ain't got a tho't in their gray heads 'cept +gold an' rot-gut rye. Still, they're better'n the Kid. The Kid's soft, +so we call him Soapy. Guess you orter know 'em all right away. Y' see +it's easy a gal misbelievin' the rights o' folks." + +Joan smiled. Something of the man's object was becoming plain. + +She studied his face while he was proceeding to metaphorically nail up +each of these men's coffins, and the curious animal alertness of it +held her interest. His eyes were wide and restless, and a hardness +marked the corners of his rather loose mouth. She wondered if that +hardness were natural, or whether it had been acquired in the +precarious life that these people lived. + +"It's just as well to know--everybody," she said gently. + +"Oh, it sure is, in a country like this," the man went on confidently. +"That's why I come along. Fellers chasin' gold is a hell of a bad +outfit. Y' see, I ain't bin long chasin' gold, an' I don't figger to +keep at it long neither. Y' see, I got a good claim. Guess it's sure +the best. We drew lots for 'em last night. It was the Padre fixed that +up. He's a great feller, the Padre. An' I got the best one--wher' the +Padre found that nugget you got. Oh, I'm lucky--dead lucky! Guess +I'll git a pile out o' my claim, sure. A great big pile. Then I'm +goin' to live swell in a big city an' have a great big outfit of folks +workin' fer me. An' I'll git hooked up with a swell gal. It'll be a +bully proposition. Guess the gal'll be lucky, cos I'll have such a big +pile." + +The youngster's enthusiasm and conceit were astounding. Nor could Joan +help the coldness they inspired in her voice. + +"She will be lucky--marrying you," she agreed. "But--aren't you afraid +you'll miss something if the others get out to the hill before you? I +mean, they being such a bad lot." + +The man became serious for a second before he answered. Then, in a +moment, his face brightened into a grin of confidence. + +"Course you can't trust 'em," he said, quite missing Joan's desire to +be rid of him. "But I don't guess any of 'em's likely to try monkey +tricks. Guess if any feller robbed me I'd shoot him down in his +tracks. They know that, sure. Oh, no, they won't play no monkey +tricks. An' anyway, I ain't givin' 'em a chance." + +He moved toward his horse and replaced the reins over its neck in +spite of his brave words. Joan understood. She saw the meanness +underlying his pretended solicitation for her well-being. All her sex +instincts were aroused, and she quite understood the purpose of the +somewhat brutal youth. + +"You're quite right to give them no chances," she said coldly. "And +now, I s'pose, you're going right out to your claim?" + +"I am that," exclaimed the other, with a gleam of cupidity in his +shifty eyes. "I'm goin' right away to dig lumps of gold fer to buy +di'monds fer that gal." + +He laughed uproariously at his pleasantry as he leapt into the saddle. +But in a moment his mirth had passed, and his whole expression +suddenly hardened as he bent down from the saddle. + +"But ef Pete comes around you git busy an' boot him right out. Pete's +bad--a real bad un. He's wuss'n Beasley. Wal, I won't say he's wuss. +But he's as bad. Git me?" + +Joan nodded. She had no alternative. The fellow sickened her. She had +been ready to meet him as one of these irresponsible people, ignorant, +perhaps dissipated, but at least well-meaning. But here she found the +lower, meaner traits of manhood she thought were only to be found +amongst the dregs of a city. It was not a pleasant experience, and she +was glad to be rid of him. + +"I think I understand. Good-bye." + +"You're a bright gal, you sure are," the youth vouchsafed cordially. +"I guessed you'd understand. I like gals who understand quick. That's +the sort o' gal I'm goin' to hitch up with." He grinned, and crushed +his hat well down on his head. "Wal, so long. See you ag'in. Course I +can't git around till after I finish on my claim. Guess you won't feel +lonesome tho', you got to git your farm fixed right. Wal, so long." + +Joan nodded as the man rode off, thankful for the termination of his +vicious, whirlwind visit. Utterly disgusted, she turned back to the +house to find Mrs. Ransford standing in the doorway. + +"What's he want?" the old woman demanded in her most uncompromising +manner. + +The girl laughed mirthlessly. + +"I think he wants a little honesty and kindliness knocked into his +very warped nature," she declared, with a sigh. + +"Warped? Warped?" The old woman caught at the word, and it seemed to +set her groping in search of adequate epithets in which to express her +feelings. "I don't know what that means. But he's it anyways--they all +are." + +And she vanished again into the culinary kingdom over which she +presided. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CLAIMS OF DUTY + + +Half an hour later Joan left the house for the barn. + +In that brief space she had lived through one of those swiftly-passing +epochs in human life when mind, heart and inclination are brought into +something approaching actual conflict. But, stern as the fight with +weakness had been, she had emerged chastened and victorious. +Realization had come to her--realization of whither her troubles had +been leading her. She knew she must not abandon herself to the +selfishness which her brief rebellion had prompted. She was young, +inexperienced, and of a highly-sensitive temperament, but she was not +weak. And it was this fact which urged her now. Metaphorically +speaking, she had determined to tackle life with shirt sleeves rolled +up. + +She knew that duty was not only duty, but something which was to yield +her a measure of happiness. She knew, too, that duty was not only to +be regarded from a point of view of its benefit to others. There +was a duty to oneself--which must not be claimed for the sin of +selfishness--just as surely as to others; that in its thoroughness of +performance lay the secret of all that was worth having in life, and +that the disobedience of the laws of such duty, the neglect of them, +was to outrage the canons of all life's ethics, and to bring down upon +the head of the offender the inevitable punishment. + +She must live her life calmly, honestly, whatever the fate hanging +over her. That was the first and most important decision she arrived +at. She must not weakly yield to panic inspired by superstitious +dread. To do so was, she felt, to undermine her whole moral being. She +must ignore this shadow, she must live a life that defied its power. +And when the cloud grew too black, if that method were not sufficient +to dispel it, she must appeal for alleviation and support from that +Power which would never deny its weak and helpless creatures. She knew +that human endurance of suffering was intended to be limited, and that +when that limit was honestly reached support was still waiting for the +sufferer. + +Thus she left the house in a chastened spirit, and once more full of +youthful courage. The work, the new life she had chosen for herself, +must fill every moment of her waking hours. And somehow she felt that +with her stern resolve had come a foretaste of that happiness she +demanded of life. Her spirits rose as she neared the barn, and a wild +excitement filled her as she contemplated a minute inspection of her +belongings and her intention to personally minister to their wants. + +Something of the instinct of motherhood stirred in her veins at the +thought. These were hers to care for--hers to attend and "do" for. She +laughed as she thought of the family awaiting her. What a family. Yes, +why not? These creatures were for the guardianship of the human race. +With all their physical might they were helpless dependents on human +aid. Yes, they must be thought for and cared for. They were her +family. And she laughed again. + +The barn was a sturdy building. Nor was it unpicturesque with its +solid, dovetailed lateral logs and heavy thatched roof. She saw that +it was built with the same care and finish as the house that was now +her home. She could not help wondering at the manner of man who had +designed and built it. She saw in it such deliberateness, such skill. +There was nothing here of the slap-dash prairie carpenter she had read +of--the man who flung up buildings simply for the needs of the moment. +These were buildings that might last for ages and still retain all +their original weather-proof comfort for the creatures they sheltered. +She felt pleased with this man Moreton Kenyon. + +She passed round the angle of the building to the doorway, and paused +for a moment to admire the scheme of the farm. Every building fronted +on a largish open space, which was split by the waters of Yellow +Creek, beyond which lay the corrals. Here was forethought. The +operative part of the farm was hidden from the house, and every detail +of it was adjacent one to another. There was the wagon shed with a +wagon in it, and harvesting implements stabled in perfect order. There +were the hog-pens, the chicken-houses; the sheds for milch cows. There +was the barn and the miniature grain store; then, across the creek, a +well, with accompanying drinking-trough, corrals with lowing kine in +them; a branding cage. And beyond these she could see a vista of +fenced pastures. + +As she stood reveling in the survey of her little possession the +thought recurred to her that this was hers, all hers. It was the home +of her family, and she laughed still more happily as she passed into +the barn. + +Pushing the door open she found herself greeted in the half-light by a +chorus of equine whinnying such as she had never before experienced, +and the sound thrilled her. There stood the team of great Clydesdale +horses, their long, fiddle heads turned round staring at her with +softly inquiring eyes. She wanted to cry out in her joy, but, +restraining herself, walked up beside the nearest of them and patted +its glossy sides. Her touch was a caress which more than gave +expression to her delight. + +Those were precious moments to Joan. They were so precious, indeed, +that she quite forgot the purpose which had brought her there. She +forgot that it was hers to tend and feed these great, helpless +creatures. It was enough for her to sit on the swinging bail between +the stalls, and revel in the gentle nuzzling of two velvety noses. In +those first moments her sensations were unforgettable. The joy of it +all held her in its thrall, and, for the moment at least, there was +nothing else in the world. + +The moments passed unheeded. Every sound was lost to her. And so it +came about that she did not hear the galloping of a horse approaching. +She did not hear it come to a halt near by. She did not even notice +the figure that presently filled the doorway. And only did her first +realization of the intrusion come with the pleasant sound of a man's +deep voice. + +"Bob an' Kitty's kind o' friendly, Miss Joan," it said. + +The girl turned with a jump and found herself confronted by Buck's +smiling face. And oddly enough her first flash of thought was that +this man had used her own name, and not her nickname, and she was +grateful to him. + +Then she saw that he had the fork in his hand with which she had first +seen him, and she remembered his overnight promise to do those very +things for her which she had set out to do, but, alas! had forgotten +all about. + +His presence became a reproach at once, and a slight pucker of +displeasure drew her even brows together. + +"You're very kind," she began, "but----" + +Buck's smile broadened. + +"'But's' a ter'ble word," he said. "It most always goes ahead of +something unpleasant." He quietly laid the fork aside, and, gathering +an armful of hay, proceeded to fill Kitty's manger. "Now what +you wer' going to say was something like that old--I mean your +housekeeper--said, only you wouldn't say it so mean. You jest want to +say I'm not to git around doing the chores here for the reason you +can't accept favors, an' you don't guess it would be right to offer me +pay, same as a 'hired' man." + +He hayed Bob's manger, and then loosened both horses' collar chains. + +"If you'll sit on the oat-box I'll turn 'em round an' take 'em to +water at the trough. That's it." + +Joan obeyed him without a word, and the horses were led out. And while +they were gone the girl was left to an unpleasant contemplation of the +situation. She determined to deal with the matter boldly, however, and +began the moment he returned. + +"You're quite right, Mr. Buck," she began. + +"Buck--jest plain Buck," he interrupted her. "But I hadn't jest +finished," he went on deliberately. "I want to show you how you can't +do those things the old--your housekeeper was yearnin' to do. Y' see, +you can't get a 'hired' man nearer than Leeson Butte. You can't get +him in less'n two weeks. You can't do the chores yourself, an' that +old--your housekeeper ain't fit to do anything but make hash. Then you +can't let the stock go hungry. Besides all of which you're doing me a +real kindness letting me help you out. Ther's no favor to you. It's +sure to me, an' these creatures which can't do things for themselves. +So it would be a sound proposition to cut that 'but' right out of our +talk an' send word to your lawyer feller in Leeson Butte for a 'hired' +man. An' when he gits around, why--well, you won't be needin' me." + +All the time he was speaking his fork was busy clearing the stalls of +their litter, and, at the finish, he leant on the haft of it and +quizzically smiled into the girl's beautiful, half-troubled face. + +Joan contemplated protesting, but somehow his manner was so friendly, +so frank and honest, that she felt it would be ungracious of her. +Finally he won the day, and she broke into a little laugh of yielding. + +"You talk too--too well for me," she cried. "I oughtn't to accept," +she added. "I know I oughtn't, but what am I to do? I can't do--these +things." Then she added regretfully: "And I thought it would be all so +simple." + +Buck saw her disappointment, and it troubled him. He felt in a measure +responsible, so he hastened to make amends. + +"Wal, y' see, men are rough an' strong. They can do the things needed +around a farm. I don't guess women wer' made for--for the rough work +of life. It ain't a thing to feel mean about. It's jest in the nature +of things." + +Joan nodded. All the time he was speaking she had been studying him, +watching the play of expression upon his mobile features rather than +paying due attention to his words. + +She decided that she liked the look of him. It was not that he +was particularly handsome. He seemed so strong, and yet so--so +unconcerned. She wondered if that were only his manner. She knew that +often volcanic natures, reckless, were hidden under a perfect calm. +She wondered if it were so in his case. His eyes were so full of a +brilliant dark light. Yes, surely this man roused might be an +interesting personality. She remembered him last night. She remembered +the strange, superheated fire in those same eyes when he had hurled +the gold at her feet. Yes, she felt sure a tremendous force lay behind +his calmness of manner. + +The man's thoughts were far less analytical. His was not the nature to +search the psychology of a beautiful girl. To him Joan was the most +wonderful thing on earth. She was something to be reverenced, to be +worshipped. His imagination, fired by all his youthful impulse, +endowed her with every gift that the mind of simple manhood could +conceive, every virtue, every beauty of mind as well as body. + +Joan watched him for some moments as he continued his work. It was +wonderful how easy he made it seem, how quickly it was done. She even +found herself regretting that in a few minutes the morning "chores" +would be finished, and this man would be away to--where? + +"You must have been up very early to get over here," she said +designedly. Her girlish curiosity and interest could no longer be +denied. She must find out what he was and what he did for a living. + +"I'm mostly up early," he replied simply. + +"Yes, of course. But--you have your own--stock to see to?" + +She felt quite pleased with her cunning. But her pleasure was +short-lived. + +"Sure," he returned, with disarming frankness. + +"It really doesn't seem fair that you should have the double work," +she went on, with another attempt to penetrate his reserve. + +Buck's smile was utterly baffling. He walked to the door of the barn +and gave a prolonged, low whistle. Then he came back. + +"It sure wouldn't be fair if I didn't," he said simply. + +"But you must have heaps to do on your--farm," Joan went on, feeling +that she was on the right track at last "Look at what you're doing for +me. These horses, the cattle, the--the pigs and things. I've no doubt +you have much more to see to of your own." + +At that moment the head of Cæsar appeared in the doorway. He stared +round the familiar stable evidently searching for his master. Finally +catching sight of him, he clattered in to the place and rubbed his +handsome head against Buck's shoulder. + +"This is my stock," Buck said, affectionately rubbing the creature's +nose. "An' I generally manage to see to him while the kettle's boilin' +for breakfast." + +Just for a moment Joan felt abashed at her deliberate attempt to pump +her companion. Then the quick, inquiring survey of the beautiful horse +was too much for her, and she left her seat to join in the caresses. + +"Isn't he a beauty?" she cried, smoothing his silken face from the +star on his forehead to the tip of his wide muzzle. + +Just for a second her hand came into contact with the man's, and, all +unconscious, she let it remain. Then suddenly realizing the position +she drew it away rather sharply. + +Buck made no move, but had she only looked up she must have noted the +sudden pallor of his face. That brief touch, so unconscious, so +unmeaning, had again set his pulses hammering through his body. And it +had needed all his control to repress the fiery impulse that stirred +him. He longed to kiss that soft white hand. He longed to take it in +his own strong palms and hold it for his own, to keep it forever. But +the moment passed, and when he spoke it was in the same pleasant, easy +fashion. + +"I kind o' thought I ought to let him go with the farm," he said, +"only the Padre wouldn't think of it. He'd have made a dandy feller +for you to ride." + +But Joan was up in arms in a moment. + +"I'd never have forgiven you if you'd parted with him," she cried. +"He's--he's perfectly beautiful." + +Buck nodded. + +"He's a good feller." And his tone said far more than his words. + +He led the beast to the door, and, giving him an affectionate slap, +sent him trotting off. + +"I must git busy," he said, with a laugh. "The hay needs cuttin'. +Guess I'll cut till dinner. After that I've got to quit till sundown. +I'll go right on cuttin' each mornin' till your 'hired' man comes +along. Y' see if it ain't cut now we'll be too late. I'll just throw +the harness on Kitty an' Bob an' leave 'em to git through with their +feed while I see the hogs fed. Guess that old--your housekeeper can +milk? I ran the cows into the corral as I came up. Seems to me she +could do most things she got fixed on doing." + +Joan laughed. + +"She was 'fixed' on sending you about what she called 'your +business,'" she said slyly. + +Buck raised his brows in mock chagrin. + +"Guess she succeeded, too. I sure got busy right away--until you come +along, and--and got me quittin'." + +"Oh!" Joan stared at him with round eyes of reproach. Then she burst +out laughing. "Well, now you shall hear the truth for that, and you'll +have to answer me too, Mr. Buck." + +"Buck--jest plain Buck." + +The girl made an impatient little movement. + +"Well, then, 'Buck.' I simply came along to thank you, and to tell you +that I couldn't allow your help--except as a 'hired' man. And--I'm +afraid you'll think me very curious--I came to find out who you were, +and how you came to find me and bring me home here. And--and I wanted +to know--well, everything about my arrival. And you--you've made it +all very difficult. You--insist on doing all this for me. +You're--you're not so kind as I thought." + +Joan's complaint was made half-laughingly and half-seriously. Buck saw +the reality underlying her words, but determined to ignore it and only +answer her lighter manner. + +"If you'd only asked me these things I'd have told you right away," he +protested, smiling. "Y' see you never asked me." + +"I--I was trying to," Joan said feebly. + +Buck paused in the act of securing Kitty's harness. + +"That old--your housekeeper wouldn't ha' spent a deal of time trying," +he said dryly. + +Joan ignored the allusion. + +"I don't believe you intend to tell me now," she said. + +Buck left the stall and stood before the corn-box. His eyes were still +smiling though his manner was tremendously serious. + +"You're wantin' to know who I am," he said. Then he paused, glancing +out of the doorway, and the girl watched the return of that thoughtful +expression which she had come to associate with his usual manner. +"Wal," he said at last, in his final way, "I'm Buck, and I was picked +up on the trail-side, starving, twenty years ago by the Padre. He's +raised me, an' we're big friends. An' now, since we sold his farm, +we're living at the old fur fort, back ther' in the hills, and we're +goin' to get a living pelt hunting. I've got no folks, an' no name +except Buck. I was called Buck. All I can remember is that my folks +were farmers, but got burnt out in a prairie fire, and--burnt to +death. That's why I was on the trail starving when the Padre found +me." + +Joan's eyes had softened with a gentle sympathy, but she offered no +word. + +"'Bout the other," the man went on, turning back to the girl, and +letting his eyes rest on her fair face, "that's easy, too. I was at +the shack of the boys in the storm. You come along an' wer' lying +right ther' on the door-sill when I found you. I jest carried you +right here. Y' see, I guessed who you wer'. Your cart was wrecked on +the bank o' the creek----" + +"And the teamster?" Joan's eyes were eagerly appealing. + +Buck turned away. + +"Oh, guess he was ther' too." Then he abruptly moved toward the +horses. "Say, I'll get on an' cut that hay." + +Joan understood. She knew that the teamster was dead. She sighed +deeply, and as the sound reached him Buck looked round. It was on the +tip of his tongue to say some word of comfort, for he knew that Joan +had understood that the man was dead, but the girl herself, under the +influence of her new resolve, made it unnecessary. She rose from her +seat, and her manner suggested a forced lightness. + +"I'll go and feed the chickens," she said. "I--I ought to be capable +of doing that." + +Buck smiled as he prepared to go and see to the hogs. + +"Guess you won't have trouble--if you know what to give 'em," he said. + +Nor was he quite sure if the girl were angry or smiling as she hurried +out of the barn. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +GOLD AND ALLOY + + +The seedling of success planted in rank soil generally develops a +wild, pernicious growth which, until the summer of its life has +passed, is untameable and pollutes all that with which it comes into +contact. The husbandman may pluck at its roots, but the seed is flung +broadcast, and he finds himself wringing his hands helplessly in the +wilderness. + +So it was on the banks of Yellow Creek. The seedling was already +flinging its tendrils and fastening tightly upon the life of the +little camp. The change had come within three weeks of the moment when +the Padre had gazed upon that first wonderful find of gold. So rapid +was its development that it was almost staggering to the man who stood +by watching the result of the news he had first carried to the camp. + +The Padre wandered the hills with trap and gun. Nothing could win him +from the pursuit which was his. But his eyes were wide open to those +things which had somehow become the care of his leisure. Many of his +evenings were spent in the camp, and there he saw and heard the things +which, in his working moments, gave him food for a disquietude of +thought. + +He knew that the luck that had come to the camp was no ordinary luck. +His first find had suggested something phenomenal, but it was nothing +to the reality. A wealth almost incalculable had been yielded by a +prodigal Nature. Every claim into which he, with the assistance of the +men of the camp, had divided the find, measured carefully and balloted +for, was rich beyond all dreams. Two or three were richer than the +others, but this was the luck of the ballot, and the natural envy +inspired thereby was of a comparatively harmless character. + +At first the thought of these things was one of a pleasant +satisfaction. These men had waited, and suffered, and starved for +their chance, and he was glad their chance had come. How many had +waited, and suffered and starved, as they had done, and done all those +things in vain? Yes, it was a pleasant thought, and it gave him zest +and hope in his own life. + +The first days passed in a perfect whirlwind of joy. Where before had +sounded only the moanings of despair, now the banks of Yellow Creek +rang with laughter and joyous voices, bragging, hoping, jesting. One +and all saw their long-dimmed hopes looming bright in the prospect of +fulfilment. + +Then came a change. Just at first it was hardly noticeable. But it +swiftly developed, and the shrewd mind of the watcher in the hills +realized that the days of halcyon were passing all too swiftly. Men +were no longer satisfied with hopes. They wanted realities. + +To want the realities with their simple, unrestrained passions, and +the means of obtaining them at their disposal, was to demand them. To +demand them was to have them. They wanted a saloon. They wanted an +organized means of gambling, they wanted a town, with all its means of +satisfying appetites that had all too long hungered for what they +regarded as the necessary pleasures of life. They wanted a means of +spending the accumulations gleaned from the ample purse of mother +Nature. And, in a moment, they set about the work of possessing these +things. + +As is always the case the means was not far to seek. It needed but one +mind, keener in self-interest than the rest, and that mind was to +hand. Beasley Melford, at no time a man who cared for the physical +hardships of the life of these people, saw his opportunity and +snatched it. He saw in it a far greater gold-mine than his own claim +could ever yield him, and he promptly laid his plans. + +He set to work without any noise, any fuss. He was too foxy to shout +until his purpose was beyond all possibility of failure. He simply +disappeared from the camp for a week. His absence was noted, but no +one cared. They were too full of their own affairs. The only people +who thought on the matter were the Padre and Buck. Nor did they speak +of it until he had been missing four days. Then it was, one evening as +they were returning from their traps, the Padre gave some inkling of +what had been busy in his thoughts all day. + +"It's queer about Beasley," he said, pausing to look back over a great +valley out of which they had just climbed, and beyond which the +westering sun was shining upon the distant snow-fields. + +Buck turned sharply at the sound of his companion's voice. They were +not given to talking much out on these hills. + +"He's been away nigh four days," he said, and took the opportunity of +shifting his burden of six freshly-taken fox pelts and lighting his +pipe. + +The Padre nodded. + +"I think he'll be back soon," he said. Then he added slowly: "It seems +a pity." + +"His coming back?" Buck eyed his companion quickly. + +"Yes." + +"Wher' d'you reckon he's gone?" + +The elder man raised a pair of astonished brows. + +"Why, to Leeson Butte," he said decidedly. Then he went on quietly, +but with neither doubt nor hesitation: "There's a real big change +coming here--when Beasley gets back. These men want drink, they are +getting restless for high play. They are hankering for--for the +flesh-pots they think their gold entitles them to. Beasley will give +them all those things when he comes back. It's a pity." + +Buck thought for some moments before he answered. He was viewing the +prospect from the standpoint of his years. + +"They must sure have had 'em anyway," he said at last. + +"Ye--es." + +The Padre understood what was in the other's mind. + +"You see," he went on presently, "I wasn't thinking of that so much. +It's--well, it amounts to this. These poor devils are just working to +fill Beasley's pockets. Beasley's the man who'll benefit by this +'strike.' In a few months the others will be on the road again, going +through all--that they've gone through before." + +"I guess they will," Buck agreed. His point of view had changed. He +was seeing through the older eyes. After that they moved on toward +their home lost in the thoughts which their brief talk had inspired. + +In a few days the Padre's prophecy was fulfilled. Beasley returned +from Leeson Butte at the head of a small convoy. He had contrived his +negotiations with a wonderful skill and foresight. His whole object +had been secrecy, and this had been difficult. To shout the wealth of +the camp in Leeson Butte would have been to bring instantly an +avalanche of adventurers and speculators to the banks of Yellow Creek. +His capital was limited to the small amount he had secretly hoarded +while his comrades were starving, and the gold he had taken from his +claim. The latter was his chief asset not from its amount, but its +nature. Therefore he had been forced to take the leading merchant in +the little prairie city into his confidence, and to suggest a +partnership. This he had done, and a plausible tongue, and the sight +of the wonderful raw gold, had had the effect he desired. The +partnership was arranged, the immediate finance was forthcoming, and, +for the time at least, Leeson Butte was left in utter ignorance of its +neighboring Eldorado. + +Once he had made his deal with Silas McGinnis, Beasley promptly opened +his heart in characteristic fashion. + +"They're all sheep, every one of 'em," he beamed upon his confederate. +"They'll be so easy fleecin' it seems hardly worth while. All they +need is liquor, and cards, and dice. Yes, an' a few women hangin' +around. You can leave the rest to themselves. We'll get the gilt, and +to hell with the dough under it. Gee, it's an elegant proposition!" +And he rubbed his hands gleefully. "But ther' must be no delay. We +must get busy right away before folks get wind of the luck. I'll need +marquees an' things until I can get a reg'lar shanty set up. Have you +got a wood spoiler you can trust?" + +McGinnis nodded. + +"Then weight him down with money so we don't need to trust him too +much, and ship him out with the lumber so he can begin right away. +We're goin' to make an elegant pile." + +In his final remark lay the key-note of his purpose. But the truth of +it would have been infinitely more sure had the pronoun been singular. + +Never was so much popularity extended to Beasley in his life as at the +moment of his return to camp. When the gold-seekers beheld his convoy, +with the wagons loaded with all those things their hearts and stomachs +craved, the majority found themselves in a condition almost ready to +fling welcoming arms about his neck. Their wishes had been expressed, +their demands made, and now, here they were fulfilled. + +A rush of trade began almost before the storekeeper's marquee was +erected. It began without regard to cost, at least on the purchasers' +parts. The currency was gold, weighed in scales which Beasley had +provided, and his exorbitant charges remained quite unheeded by the +reckless creatures he had marked down for his victims. + +In twenty-four hours the camp was in high revelry. In forty-eight +Beasley's rough organization was nearing completion. And long before +half those hours had passed gold was pouring into the storekeeper's +coffers at a pace he had never even dreamed of. + +But the first rush was far too strenuous to be maintained for long. +The strain was too great even for such wild spirits as peopled the +camp. It soared to its height with a dazzling rapidity, culminating in +a number of quarrels and fights, mixed up with some incipient +shooting, after which a slight reaction set in which reduced it to a +simmer at a magnificently profitable level for the foxy storekeeper. +Still, there remained ample evidence that the Devil was rioting in the +camp and would continue to do so just as long as the lure of gold +could tempt his victims. + +Then came the inevitable. In a few days it became apparent that the +news of the "strike" had percolated abroad. Beasley's attempt at +secrecy had lasted him just sufficiently long to establish himself as +the chief trader. Then came the rush from the outside. + +It was almost magical the change that occurred in one day. The place +became suddenly alive with strangers from Leeson Butte and Bay Creek, +and even farther afield. Legitimate traders came to spy out the land. +Loafers came in and sat about waiting for developments. Gamblers, +suave, easy, ingratiating, foregathered and started the ball of high +stakes rolling. And in their wake came all that class of carrion which +is ever seeking something for nothing. But the final brand of +lawlessness was set on the camp by the arrival of a number of jaded, +painted women, who took up their abode in a disused shack sufficiently +adjacent to Beasley's store to suit their purposes. It was all very +painful, all very deplorable. Yet it was the perfectly natural +evolution of a successful mining camp--a place where, before the firm +hand of Morality can obtain its restraining grip, human nature just +runs wild. + +The seedling had grown. Its rank tendrils were everywhere reaching out +and choking all the better life about it. Its seeds were scattered +broadcast and had germinated as only such seeds can. It only remained +for the husbandman to gaze regretful and impotent upon his handiwork. +His hand had planted the seedling, and now--already the wilderness was +beyond all control. + +Something of this was in the Padre's mind as he sat in his doorway +awaiting Buck's return for the night. The dusk was growing, and +already the shadows within the ancient stockade were black with +approaching night. The waiting man had forgotten his pipe, so deeply +was he engrossed with his thoughts, and it rested cold in his powerful +hand. + +He sat on oblivious of everything but that chain of calm reasoning +with which he tried to tell himself that the things happening down +there on the banks of the Yellow Creek must be. He told himself that +he had always known it; that the very fact of this lawlessness pointed +the camp's prosperity, and showed how certainly the luck had come to +stay. Later, order would be established out of the chaos, but for the +moment there was nothing to be done but--wait. All this he told +himself, but it left him dissatisfied, and his thoughts concentrated +upon the one person he blamed for all the mischief. Beasley was the +man--and he felt that wherever Beasley might be, trouble would never +be far----What was that? + +An unusual sound had caught and held his attention. He rose quickly +from his seat and stood peering out into the darkness which he had +failed to notice creeping on him. There was no mistaking it. The sound +of running feet was quite plain. Why running? + +He turned about and moved over to the arm rack. The next moment he was +in the doorway again with his Winchester at his side. + +A few moments later a short, stocky man leapt out of the darkness and +halted before him. As the Padre recognized him his finger left the +trigger of his gun. + +"For Gawd's sake don't shoot, Padre!" + +It was Curly Saunders' voice, and the other laid his gun aside. + +"What's amiss?" demanded the Padre, noting the man's painful gasping +for breath. + +For a moment Curly hesitated. Then, finally, between heavy breaths he +answered the challenge. + +"I got mad with the Kid--Soapy," he said. "Guess I shot him up. He +ain't dead an' ain't goin' to die, but Beasley, curse him, set 'em on +to lynch me. They're all mad drunk--guess I was, too, 'fore I started +to run--an' they come hot foot after me. I jest got legs of 'em an' +come along here. It's--it's a mighty long ways." + +The Padre listened without moving a muscle--the story so perfectly +fitted in with his thoughts. + +"The Kid isn't dead? He isn't going to die?" His voice had neither +condemnation nor sympathy in it. + +"No. It's jest a flesh wound on the outside of his thigh." + +"What was the trouble?" + +"Why, the durned young skunk wus jest tryin' to set them--them women +payin' a 'party' call on the gal at the farm, an' they wus drunk +enough to do it. It made me mad--an'--an', wal, we got busy with our +tongues, an' I shot him up fair an' squar'." + +"And how about Beasley?" + +"Why, it was him set the Kid to git the women on the racket. When he +see how I'd stopped it he got madder than hell, an' went right out fer +lynchin' me. The boys wus drunk enough to listen to his lousy talk." + +"Was he drunk?" + +"Not on your life. Beasley's too sweet on the dollars. But I guess +he's got his knife into that Golden Woman of ours." + +The Padre had no more questions to ask. He dropped back into the room +and lit the oil lamp. + +"Come right in, Curly," he said kindly. Then he laid his rifle on the +table and pointed at it. "The magazine's loaded plumb up. Guess no man +has a right to give up his life without a kick. That'll help you if +they come along--which they won't. Maybe Buck'll be along directly. +Don't shoot him down. Anyway he's got Cæsar with him--so you'll know. +I'm going down to the camp." + +For a second the two men looked into each other's eyes. The Padre read +the suspicion in Curly's. He also saw the unhealthy lines in his +cheeks and round his mouth. Nor could he help feeling disgusted at the +thoughts of the fortune that had come to the camp and brought all +these hideous changes in its wake. + +He shook his head. + +"I'm not giving you away," he said. "Guess I'll be back in an hour." + +Curly nodded and moved over to one of the two chairs. + +"Thanks, Padre," he said as the other passed quickly out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +TWO POINTS OF VIEW + + +Beasley Melford was in a detestable mood. For one reason his miserable +bar was empty of all customers, and, for another, he knew that he was +responsible for the fact. + +Had he any sense of humor, the absurdity of the thing must have forced +itself upon him and possibly helped to improve his temper. But he had +no humor, and so abandoned himself to the venomous temper that was +practically the mainspring of his life. + +He cursed his absent customers. He cursed the man, Curly Saunders. He +cursed the girl whom the trouble had been about. But more than all he +cursed himself for his own folly in permitting a desire to bait Joan +Rest to interfere with his business. + +In his restless mood he sought to occupy himself, and, nothing else +offering, he cleared his rough counter of glasses, plunged them into a +bucket of filthy water, and set them out to drain. Then he turned his +attention to his two oil lamps. He snuffed them with his dirty fingers +in a vain attempt to improve their miserable light. Then, seating +himself upon his counter, he lit a cheap green cigar and prepared to +wait. + +"Damn 'em all anyway," he muttered comprehensively, and abandoned +himself to watching the hands of a cheap alarm clock creeping on +toward the hour of nine. + +Apparently the soothing influence of his cigar changed the trend of +his thoughts, for presently he began to smile in his own unpleasant +way. He was reviewing the scene which his venom had inspired, and the +possibilities of it--at the moment delayed, but not abandoned--gave +him a peculiar sense of gratification. + +He was thinking, too, of Joan Rest and some others. He was thinking of +the day of her arrival in the camp, and the scene that had followed +Buck's discovery of her. He could never forgive that scene, or those +who took part in it. Buck, more surely than anybody else, he could +never forgive. He had always hated Buck and his friend the Padre. They +had been in a position to hand out benefits to the starving camp, and +patronage was an intolerable insult to a man of his peculiar venom. +The thought that he owed those men anything was anathema to him, for +he knew in his heart that they despised him. + +Since the day of Joan's coming he had pondered upon how he could pay +Buck something of that which he owed him for the insult that still +rankled. He had been called an "outlaw parson," and the truth of the +appellation made the insult only the more maddening. Nothing else +could have hurt the man so much as to remind him of the downfall which +had reduced him to an "outlaw parson." + +He had told Buck then that he would not forget. He might have added +that he could not forget. So, ever since, he had cast about for any +and every means of hurting the man who had injured him, and his +curiously mean mind set him groping in the remotest and more subtle +directions. Nor had it taken him long to locate the most vulnerable +point in Buck's armor. He had realized something of the possibilities +at the first coming of Joan. He had seen then the effect of the +beautiful inanimate body upon the man's susceptibilities. It had been +instantaneous. Then had come that scene at the farm, and Buck's +further insult over the gold which he had hated to see pass into the +girl's possession. It was then that the first glimmer of an opening +for revenge had shown itself to him. + +The rest was the simple matter of camp gossip. Here he learned, +through the ridicule bestowed upon Montana Ike and Pete, who were +always trying to outdo each other in their rivalry for the favors of +Joan, and who never missed an opportunity of visiting the farm when +they knew they would find her there, of Buck's constant attendance +upon Joan. He needed very little of his evil imagination to tell him +the rest. With Buck in love with the woman it was a simple enough +process to his scheming mind to drive home his revenge upon the +man--through her. + +The necessary inspiration had come that night, when the four women +vultures, plying their trade of preying upon the men in his bar, had +reached a sufficient degree of drunkenness. Then it had occurred to +his devilish mind to bribe them into going across to the farm and +paying what he was pleased to call a "party" call upon its mistress, +and, in their own phraseology, to "raise hell with her." + +It was a master stroke. Then had come Curly's interference. The fool +had spoilt it all. Nobody but Curly had attempted to interfere. The +men had all been too drunk to bother, and the women had jumped at the +chance of morally rending a virtuous member of their own sex. + +He laughed silently as he thought of it all. But his laugh only +expressed his gratification at the subtlety of his ideas. His failure +still annoyed him. Curly had stood champion for this Golden Woman, as +they called her. Well, it wasn't his, Beasley's, fault if he hadn't +paid for his interference by this time. The men were quite drunk +enough to hang him, or shoot him for "doing up" young Kid, who had +been a mere tool in the matter. He cordially hoped they had. Anyway, +the sport at Joan's expense was too good to miss, and the night was +still young. + +The prospect almost entirely restored his good-humor, and he was still +smiling when the door was suddenly pushed open and the Padre's burly +figure appeared on the threshold. + +The saloon-keeper's smile died at sight of the familiar white hair. Of +all the people on Yellow Creek this was the man he least wanted to see +at the moment. But he was shrewd enough to avoid any sign of open +antagonism. He knew well enough that Moreton Kenyon was neither a fool +nor a coward. He knew that to openly measure swords with him was to +challenge a man of far superior intellect and strength, and the +issue was pretty sure to go against him. Besides, this man they +affectionately called the Padre had the entire good-will of the place. + +But though he always avoided open antagonism the storekeeper never let +go his grip on his dislike. He clung to it hoping to discover some +means of breaking the man's position in the camp and bringing about an +utter revulsion of the public feeling for him. There was much about +the Padre that gave him food for thought. One detail in particular was +always in his mind, a detail such as a mind like his was bound to +question closely. He could never understand the man's object in the +isolation of the life he had lived for so many years here in the back +country of the West. + +However, he was only concerned at the moment with the object of this +unusual visit, and his shrewd speculation turned upon the pursuit of +Curly. + +"Evenin', Padre," he said, with a cordiality the most exacting could +have found no fault with. + +"Good-evening," replied the newcomer, smiling pleasantly as he glanced +round the sordid hovel. Then he added: "Times are changed, sure. +But--where are your customers?" + +Beasley's quick eyes gazed sharply at the perfect mask of disarming +geniality. He was looking for some sign to give him a lead, but there +was only easy good-nature in the deep gray eyes beneath their shaggy +brows. + +"Guess they're out chasin' that fool-head Curly Saunders," he said +unguardedly. However, he saw his mistake in an instant and tried to +rectify it. "Y' see they're always skylarkin' when they git liquor +under their belts." + +"Skylarking?" The Padre propped himself against the bar, and his eyes +suddenly rested on an ugly stain on the sand floor. + +Beasley followed his glance, and beheld the pool of blood which had +flowed from the Kid's wound. He cursed himself for not having +obliterated it. Then, in a moment, he decided to carry the matter with +a high hand. + +"Psha'! What's the use'n beatin' around!" he said half-defiantly. +"They're chasin' Curly to lynch him for shootin' up the Kid." + +The Padre gave a well-assumed start and emitted a low whistle. Then he +turned directly toward the counter. + +"You best have a drink on me--for the good of the house," he said. +"I'll take rye." + +Beasley swung himself across the counter with a laugh. + +"Say, that beats the devil!" he cried. "I'll sure drink with you. No +one sooner." + +The Padre nodded. + +"Splendid," he smiled. Then as the other passed glasses and the +bottle, he went on: "Tell us about it--the racket, I mean." + +Beasley helped himself to a drink and laughed harshly. + +"Wal, I didn't get it right," he said, raising his glass. "Here's +'how'!" He gulped down his drink and set the empty glass on the +counter. "Y' see, I was handin' out drinks when the racket started. +They were all muckin' around with them four sluts that come in town +the other day. Guess they was all most sloshed to the gills. First +thing I know they were quarreling, then some un got busy with a gun. +Then they started chasin' Curly, an' I see the Kid lying around shot +up. It was jest a flesh wound, an' I had him boosted out to his own +shack. His partner, Pete--they struck a partnership, those two--why, I +guess he's seein' to him. 'Tain't on'y a scratch." + +The Padre set his glass down. He had not drunk his liquor at a gulp +like the other. + +"Pity," he said, his eyes turned again to the blood-stained floor. "I +s'pose it was the women--I mean the cause?" + +The man's manner was so disarming that Beasley felt quite safe in +"opening out." + +"Pity?" he laughed brutally. "Wher's the pity? Course it was the +women. It's always the women. Set men around a bunch of women and +ther's always trouble. It's always been, and it always will be. Ther's +no pity about it I can see. We're all made that way, and those who set +us on this rotten earth meant it so, or it wouldn't be." + +The Padre's gray eyes surveyed the narrow face before him. This man, +with his virulent meanness, his iron-gray hair, his chequered past, +always interested him. + +"And do you think this sort of trouble would occur if--if the men +hadn't been drunk?" he asked pointedly. + +Beasley's antagonism surged, but his outward seeming was perfectly +amiable. + +"Meaning me?" he asked, with a grin. + +The Padre shrugged. + +"I was thinking that these things have been occurring ever since the +camp was flooded with----" + +"Rye!" Beasley's eyes sparkled. He reached the Padre's now empty glass +and gave him a fresh one, pushing the bottle toward him. "You'll hev a +drink on me, an' if you've got time, I'll tell you about this thing." + +The other submitted, and the drink was poured out. The Padre ignored +his. + +"Get right ahead," he said in his easy way. + +Beasley leered over the rim of his glass as he drank his whisky. + +"You think it's rye," he said, setting his glass down with unnecessary +force. "An' I say it's the women--or the woman. Trouble come to this +camp with that tow-headed gal over at the farm. Anybody with two eyes +could see that. Anybody that wasn't as blind as a dotin' mother. The +boys are all mad 'bout her. They're plumb-crazed. They got her +tow-head and sky-blue eyes on their addled brains, an' all the +youngsters, anyway, are fumin' jealous of each other, and ready to +shoot, or do anything else that comes handy, to out the other feller. +That's the root of the trouble--an' you brought that about selling her +your farm." + +Beasley had let himself go intending to aggravate, but the other's +manner still remained undisturbed. + +"But this only happens when they're drunk," he said mildly. + +Beasley's angry impatience broke out. + +"Tcha'! Drunk or sober it don't make any difference. I tell you the +whole camp's on edge over that gal. It only needs a word to set things +hummin'. It's that gal! She's a Jonah, a Hoodoo to us all--to this +place. She's got rotten luck all over her--and you brought her here. +You needn't try an' sling mud at me fer handing them the rot-gut the +boys ask for. Get that woman out of the place and things'll level up +right away." + +The man's rudeness still seemed to have no effect. + +"But all this doesn't seem to fit in with--with this affair to-night," +the Padre argued. "You said it began, you thought, over the four women +you allow in here." + +Beasley was being steadily drawn without knowing it. His swift-rising +spleen led him farther into the trap. + +"So it did," he snapped. Then he laughed mirthlessly. "Y' see some one +suggested those gals pay a 'party' call on your Golden Woman," he said +with elaborate sarcasm. "And it was because Mr. Curly Saunders sort o' +fancies he's got some sort of right to that lady he butted in and shot +up the Kid." + +"Who suggested it?" asked the other quickly, his mild gray eyes +hardening. + +"Why, the Kid." + +The Padre looked the saloon-keeper squarely in the eye. + +"And who put it into that foolish boy's head?" he asked slowly. + +Beasley's face purpled with rage. + +"You needn't to put things that way with me," he cried. "If you got +things to say, say 'em right out. You reckon I was the man who +suggested----" + +"I do." + +The Padre's eyes were wide open. The hard gray gleam literally bored +into the other's heated face. He stood up, his whole body rigid with +purpose. + +"I say right here that you were responsible for it all. The Kid wasn't +capable of inventing such a dirty trick on a decent girl. He was +sufficiently drunk to be influenced by you, and, but for Curly's +timely interference, you would doubtless have had your rotten way. I +tell you the trouble, whatever trouble happens in this camp, is +trouble which you are directly or indirectly responsible for. These +men, in their sober senses, are harmless. Give them the poison you +charge extortionately for and they are ready to do anything. I warn +you, Beasley, to be careful what you do--be damned careful. There are +ways of beating you, and, by thunder! I'll beat you at your own game! +Good-night!" + +The Padre turned and walked out, leaving the discomfited storekeeper +speechless with rage, his narrow eyes glaring after him. + +Moreton Kenyon was never a man to allow an impulse of anger to get the +better of him. All that he had said to Beasley he had made up his mind +to say before starting for the camp. There was only one way of dealing +with the man's genius for mischief. And that way did not lie in the +direction of persuasion or moral talk. Force was the only thing such a +nature as his would yield to. The Padre knew well enough that such +force lay to his command should he choose to exert his influence in +the camp. He was man of the world enough to understand that the moral +condition of the life in this camp must level itself. It could not be +regulated--yet. But the protection of a young and beautiful girl was +not only his duty, but the duty of every sane citizen in the district, +and he was determined it should be carried out. There was no ordinary +law to hold this renegade in check, so, if necessary, he must be +treated to the harshness of a law framed by the unpracticed hands of +men who only understood the wild in which they lived. + +On his way home the Padre encountered Buck, who had been back to the +fur fort, and, learning from Curly the facts of what had occurred, was +now on his way to join his friend. + +They paused to talk for some minutes, and their talk was upon those +things which were still running through their minds in a hot tide of +resentment. After a while they parted, Buck to continue his way to the +camp, and the Padre to his home. + +"I think it's all right for to-night," the Padre said as he prepared +to move off. "I don't think he'll make another attempt. Anyway, the +boys will be sober. But you might have an eye on him." + +Buck nodded, and in the darkness the fierce anger in his dark eyes was +lost to his companion. + +"I'll be to home when the camp's abed," he said. "I'll sure see the +gal safe." + +So they parted, leaving the Padre perfectly confident in Buck's +ability to make good his assurance. + + * * * * * + +It was a wild scene inside the drinking-booth over which the +ex-Churchman presided. The men had returned from their fruitless +pursuit of their intended victim. And as they came in, no longer +furiously determined upon a man's life, but laughing and joking over +the events of their blind journey in the darkness, Beasley saw that +they were rapidly sobering. + +Still raging inwardly at the result of the Padre's visit he set to +work at once, and, before any one else could call for a drink, he +seized the opportunity himself. He plied them with a big drink at his +own expense, and so promptly enlisted their favor--incidentally +setting their appetites for a further orgie with a sharpness that it +would take most of the night to appease. + +The ball set rolling by his cunning hand quickly ran riot, and soon +the place again became the pandemonium which was its nightly habit. +Good-humor was the prevalent note, however. The men realized now, in +their half-sober senses, that the Kid was only wounded, and this +inclined them to leniency toward Curly. So it was quickly evident that +their recently-intended victim need no longer have any fear for his +life. He was forgiven as readily and as easily as he had been +condemned. + +So the night proceeded. The roulette board was set going again in one +corner of the hut and a crowd hung about it, while the two operators +of it, "Diamond" Jack and his partner, strangers to the place, raked +in their harvest. The air was thick with the reek of cheap cigars, +sold at tremendous prices, and the foul atmosphere of stale drink. +The usual process of a further saturation had set in. Nor amidst the +din of voices was there a discordant note. Even the cursings of the +losers at the roulette board were drowned in the raucous din of +laughter and loud-voiced talk around the bar. + +As time went on Beasley saw that his moment was rapidly approaching. +The shining, half-glazed eyes, the sudden outbursts of wild whoopings, +told him the tale he liked to hear. And he promptly changed his own +attitude of bonhomie, and began to remind those who cared to listen of +the fun they had all missed through Curly's interference. This was +done at the same time as he took to pouring out the drinks himself in +smaller quantities, and became careless in the matter of making +accurate change for the bigger bills of his customers. + +Beasley's hints were not long in bearing the fruit he desired. Some +one recollected the women who had been participants in their earlier +frolic, and instantly there was a clamor for their presence. + +Beasley grinned. He was feeling almost joyous. + +The women readily answered the summons. They came garbed in long, +flowing, tawdry wrappers, the hallmark of the lives they lived. Nor +was it more than seconds before they were caught in the whirl of the +orgie in progress. + +The sight was beyond all description in its revolting and hideous +pathos. These blind, besotted men hovered about these wrecks of +womanhood much in the manner of hungry animals. They plied them with +drink, and sought to win their favors by ribald jesting and talk as +obscene as their condition of drunkenness would permit them, while the +women accepted their attentions in the spirit in which they were +offered, calculating, watching, with an eye trained to the highest +pitch of mercenary motive, for the direction whence the greatest +benefit was to come. + +Beasley was watching too. He knew that the Padre's threat had been no +idle one, but he meant to forestall its operation. The Padre was away +to his home by now. Nothing that he could do could operate until the +morning, when these men were sober. He had got this night, at least, +in which to satisfy his evil whim. + +His opportunity came sooner than he expected. One of the girls, quite +a young creature, whose originally-pretty face was now distorted and +bloated by the life she lived, suddenly appealed to him. She jumped up +from the bench on which she had been sitting listening to the drunken +attentions of a stranger who bored her, and challenged the +saloon-keeper with a laugh and an ingratiating wink. + +"Say, you gray-headed old beer-slinger," she cried, "how about that +'party' call you'd fixed up for us? Ain't ther' nuthin' doin' since +that mutt with the thin yeller thatch got busy shootin'? Say, he got +you all scared to a pea shuck." + +She laughed immoderately, and, swaying drunkenly, was caught by the +attentive stranger. + +"Quit it, Mamie," protested one of the other girls. "If you want +another racket I don't. You're always raisin' hell." + +"Quit yourself," shrieked Mamie in sudden anger. "I ain't scared of a +racket." She turned to Beasley, who was pouring out a round of drinks +for Abe Allinson, now so drunk that he had to support himself against +the counter. "Say, you don't need to be scared, that feller's out o' +the way now," she jeered. "Wot say? Guess it would be a 'scream.'" + +Beasley handed the change of a twenty-dollar bill to Abe and turned to +the girl. + +"Sure it would," he agreed promptly, his face beaming. Then he added +cunningly: "But it's you folks are plumb scared." + +"Who the h---- scared of a gal like that?" Mamie yelled at him, her +eyes blazing. "I ain't. Are you, Lulu? You, Kit?" She turned to the +other women, but ignored the protesting Sadie. + +Lulu sprang from the arms of a man on whose shoulder she had been +reclining. + +"Scared?" she cried. "Come right on. I'm game. Beasley's keen to give +her a twistin'--well, guess it's always up to us to oblige." And she +laughed immoderately. + +Kit joined in. She cared nothing so long as she was with the majority. +And it was Beasley himself who finally challenged the recalcitrant +Sadie. + +"Guess you ain't on, though," he said, and there was something like a +threat in his tone. + +Sadie shrugged. + +"It don't matter. If the others----" + +"Bully for you, Sadie!" cried Mamie impulsively. "Come right on! Who's +comin' to get the 'scream'?" she demanded of the men about her, while +Beasley nodded his approval from his stand behind the bar. + +But somehow her general invitation was not received with the same +enthusiasm the occasion had met with earlier in the evening. The +memory of the Kid still hovered over some of the muddled brains, and +only a few of those who were in the furthest stages of drunkenness +responded. + +Nothing daunted, however, the girl Mamie, furiously anxious to stand +well with the saloon-keeper, laughed over at him. + +"We'll give her a joyous time," she shrieked. "Say, what's her name? +Joan Rest, the Golden Woman! She'll need the rest when we're through. +Come on, gals. We'll dance a cancan on her parlor table. Come on." + +She made a move and the others prepared to follow. Several of the men, +laughing recklessly, were ready enough to go whither they led. Already +Mamie was within a pace of the closed door when a man suddenly pushed +Abe Allinson roughly aside, leant his right elbow on the counter, and +stood with his face half-turned toward the crowd. It was Buck. His +movements had been so swift, so well calculated, that Beasley found +himself looking into the muzzle of the man's heavy revolver before he +could attempt to defend himself. + +"Hold on!" + +Buck's voice rang out above the din of the barroom. Instantly he had +the attention of the whole company. The girls stood, staring back at +him stupidly, and the men saw the gun leveled at the saloon-keeper's +head. They saw more. They saw that Buck held another gun in his left +hand, which was threatening the entire room. Most of them knew him. +Some of them didn't. But one and all understood the threat and waited +motionless. Nor did they have to wait long. + +"Gals," said Buck sternly, "this racket's played out. Ther's been +shootin' to-night over the same thing. Wal, ther's going to be more +shootin' if it don't quit right here. If you leave this shanty to go +across to the farm to molest the folks there, Beasley, here, is a dead +man before you get a yard from the door." + +Then his glance shifted so that the saloon-keeper came into his focus, +while yet he held a perfect survey of the rest of the men. + +"Do you get me, Beasley?" he went on coldly. "You're a dead man if +those gals go. An' if you send them to the farm after this--ever--I'll +shoot you on sight. Wal?" + +Beasley knew when he was beaten. He had reckoned only on the Padre. He +had forgotten Buck. However, he wouldn't forget him in the future. + +"You can put up your gun, Buck," he said, with an assumption of +geniality that deceived no one, and Buck least of all. "Quit your +racket, gals," he went on. Then he added with the sarcasm he generally +fell back on in such emergencies: "Guess this gentleman feels the same +as Curly--only he ain't as--hasty." + +The girls went slowly back to their seats, and Buck, lowering his +guns, quietly restored them both to their holsters. + +Beasley watched him, and as he saw them disappear his whole manner +changed. + +"Now, Mister Buck," he said, with a snarl, "I don't guess I need +either your dollars or your company on my premises. You'll oblige +me--that door ain't locked." And he pointed at it deliberately for the +man to take his departure. + +But Buck only laughed. + +"Don't worry, Beasley," he said. "I'm here--till you close up for the +night." + +And the enraged saloon-keeper had a vision of a smile at his expense +which promptly lit the faces of the entire company. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +WHEN LIFE HOLDS NO SHADOWS + + +The mellow evening light glows with a living warmth of color upon +hill, and valley, and plain. The myriad tints shine in perfect +harmony, for Nature is incapable of discord whether in her reign of +beauty or her moments of terror. Discord belongs to the imperfect +human eye, the human brain, the human heart. Thus must the most +perfect human creation be ever imperfect. + +But Nature's perfections are never lost upon the human mind. They are +not intended to be lost. They serve well their purpose of elevating, +of uplifting all thought, and affording inspiration for all that which +is good and beautiful in hearts thrilling with emotions which need +strong support to save them from their own weaknesses. + +Something of this influence was at work in the hearts of a man and a +girl riding over the hard sand trail in the pleasant evening light. +The man's youthful heart was thrilling with a hope he dared not +attempt to define, and could not if he would. His every feeling was +inspired by a joy he had no proper understanding of. The glance of his +dark eyes bespoke his mood, and his buoyancy seemed to communicate +itself to the great horse under him. All he knew was that the glory of +the day was all about him, and, beside him, Joan was riding the +Padre's sturdy horse. + +The girl at his side was no less uplifted. At the moment shadows +troubled her not at all. They were gone, merged into soft, hazy gauzes +through which peeped the scenes of life as she desired life to be, and +every picture was rose-tinted with the wonderful light of an evening +sun. + +Her fair young face was radiant; a wonderful happiness shone in the +violet depths of her eyes. Her sweet lips were parted, displaying her +even, white teeth, and her whole expression was much that of a child +who, for the first time, opens its eyes to the real joy of living. +Every now and again she drew a deep, long sigh of content and +enjoyment. + +For a while they rode in silence, their bodies swaying easily to the +rhythmic gait of the horses. Their direction lay toward the sun, that +direction which ever makes for hope. Ahead of them, and behind them, +lay the forest of tall, garbless trunks, their foliage-crowned, +disheveled heads nodding in the light breezes from the hilltops, which +left the lower atmosphere undisturbed. The scented air, pungent with +pleasant odors, swept them by as their horses loped easily along. It +was a moment of perfect peace, a moment when life could hold no +shadows. + +But such feelings are only for the silent moments of perfect +companionship. The spoken word, which indexes thought, robs them of +half their charm and beauty. The girl felt something of this as the +calm voice of her companion broke the wonderful spell. + +"That feller's shaping well," he said, his thoughts for the moment +evidently upon the practical side of her comfort. + +The girl nodded. That look of rapturous joy had left her, and she too +became practical. + +"I think so--when Mrs. Ransford leaves him alone," she said, with a +little laugh. "She declares it is always necessary to harass a 'hired' +man from daylight to dark. If I were he I'd get out into the pastures, +or hay sloughs, or forest, or somewhere, and stay there till she'd +gone to bed. Really, Buck, she's a terrible woman." + +In the growing weeks of companionship Joan had learned to use this +man's name as familiarly as though she had known him all her life. It +would have seemed absurd to call him anything but Buck now. Besides, +she liked doing so. The name fitted him. "Buck;" it suggested to +her--spirit, independence, courage, everything that was manly; and she +had long ago decided that he was all these things--and more. + +Buck laughed in his quiet fashion. He rarely laughed loudly. Joan +thought it sounded more like a deep-throated gurgle. + +"She sure is," he declared heartily. + +"Of course," Joan smiled. "You have crossed swords with her." + +The man shook his head. + +"Not me," he said. "She did the battlin'. Guess I sat tight. You see, +words ain't as easy to a man, as to--some women." + +Joan enjoyed the tact of his remark. She leant forward and smoothed +the silky neck of the Padre's horse, and Buck's admiring eyes took in +the perfect lines of her well-cut habit. He had never seen anything +like it before, and failed to understand the excellence of its +tailoring, but he knew that everything about this girl was wonderfully +beautiful, and he would have liked to have been able to tell her so. + +As he watched her he could not help thinking of the moment when he had +held her in his arms. It was a thought almost always with him, a +thought which never failed to stir his pulses and set them racing. + +"But you see I can't do without her," the girl went on as she sat up +in her saddle again. "She's a good worker, herself. She's taught me a +good deal already. Oh, yes," she smiled at his look of incredulity, +"I've begun my lessons. I am learning all I can, preparing for the +bigger lessons of this--this"--she gave a comprehensive glance at the +hills--"wonderful world." + +Buck nodded. But he rode on in silence, his face for the moment +clouded with deep thought. He was thinking of that night in Beasley's +store. He was thinking of what might have happened there if those +women had carried out their purpose. He was wondering what the lessons +might be that this girl might yet find herself confronted with. The +matter troubled him. And Joan's surreptitious glance into his face +warned her that the cloud had obscured his sun. + +The man finally broke the silence. + +"Have you got any menfolk?" he asked abruptly. + +Joan turned quickly. + +"No--why?" + +"An uncle--a brother. Maybe a--father?" + +There was something almost anxious in Buck's manner as he enumerated +the possible relationships. + +But the girl shook her head at each one, and he went on in a tone of +disappointment. + +"It's kind of a pity," he observed. Then, in answer to the girl's +quick look of inquiry, he added evasively: "You see it's lonesome for +a gal--out in these hills." + +Joan knew that that was not the reason of his inquiry, and she smiled +quietly at her horse's ears. + +"Why did you want to know if I had--menfolk?" she asked. "I mean the +real reason." She looked up frankly smiling, and compelled his +attention. + +Buck was not easy to corner, even though he had no experience of +women. Again Joan heard his strange gurgle, and her smile broadened. + +"You could sure learn your lessons easier with your menfolk around to +help you," he said. + +For a second the girl's face dropped. Then she laughed good-humoredly. + +"You're smart, Buck," she exclaimed. "But--but you're most +exasperating. Still, I'll tell you. The only relative I have in the +world, that I know of, is--Aunt Mercy." + +"Ah! she's a woman." + +"Yes, a woman." + +"It's a pity." Suddenly Buck pointed ahead at a great mass of towering +rock above the trees. "There's Devil's Hill!" he exclaimed. + +Joan looked up, all eager delight to behold this wonderful hill Buck +had brought her out to see. She expected something unusual, for +already she had listened to several accounts of this place and the +gold "strike" she was supposed to have brought about. Nor was she +disappointed now, at least at first. She stared with wondering eyes at +the weird, black giant raising its ugly head in a frowning threat +above them, and gave a gasp of surprise. + +Then in a moment her surprise died out, and into her eyes crept a +strange look of repulsion and even fear. She had no words to offer. +She made no move. It was almost as if she sat fascinated like some +harmless bird held by the hypnotic stare of a python. So long did she +remain silent that Buck at last turned and looked into her face. And +something like alarm caught and held him when he beheld her gray look +of horror as she faced the gloomy crags mounting up before them. + +He too looked out ahead. But his imagination failed him, and his eyes +came back to her. The change in her happy, smiling eyes was +incredible. Her smile had gone utterly--the bright color of her +cheeks. There was no awe in her look, neither curiosity nor +admiration. To him it almost seemed that her whole body was thrilled +with an utter repugnance and loathing at what she beheld. + +"It's--ugly," he hazarded at last. + +"It's--it's dreadful." The girl's reply came in a tone there was no +mistaking. It was one of concentrated detestation. + +"You don't--like it?" Buck felt helpless. + +But Joan's next words left him without any doubt. + +"I--I think I--hate it," she said harshly. + +Buck drew rein on the instant. + +"Then we'll get back to home." + +But Joan had no such intention. + +"No--no!" she exclaimed quickly. "We'll go on. I want to see it. I--I +_must_ see it." + +Her manner had suddenly become agitated, and Buck was left wondering +the more. She was stirred with strange feelings which embodied a dozen +different emotions, and it was the sight of that great black crown, +like the head of a Gorgon, which had inspired them. Its fascination +was one of cruel attraction. Its familiarity suggested association +with some part of her life. It seemed as if she belonged to it, or +that it belonged to her--that in some curious way it was actually a +part of her life. And all the time her detestation, her fear surged +through her heart and left her revolting. But she knew she must go on. +Its fascination claimed her and drew her, calling to her with a +summons she dared not disobey--had no real desire to disobey. + +It was she who took the lead now. She pressed on at a rapid gallop. +Her fair young face was set and cold. She remained silent, and her +manner forbade the man's interruption. + +But Buck kept pace with her, and a great sympathy held him silent too. +He had no real understanding of her mood, only he knew that, for the +moment, his presence had no place in her thought. + +So they drew toward the shadow of the hill. Each was lost in disturbed +reflections. Joan was waiting, expectant of she knew not what, and the +man, filled with puzzlement, knew that the solution lay only with the +girl beside him. + +It had been his thought to point out the things which his practiced +mind suggested as of interest, but now, as he beheld the rapt +expression of her face, it all became different. Therefore he checked +the eager Cæsar and let her lead the way. + +Joan had no observation for anything as she rode on right up to the +very shadow of the suspended lake. Then, almost mechanically, as +though urged by some unseen hand, she drew up sharply. She was no +longer looking at the hill, she sat in her saddle limply, and stared +vacantly at the rough workings of the miners which had been abandoned +for the day. + +Still Buck waited in silence. + +At last he had his reward. The girl made a movement almost like a +shiver. Then she sat up erect. The color came back to her cheeks and +she turned to him with eyes in which a ghost of a smile flitted. + +"I--I had forgotten," she said half-apologetically. "This is what has +brought prosperity to the camp. This is what has saved them from +starvation. We--we should owe it gratitude." + +"I don't guess the rocks need gratitude," replied Buck quietly. + +"No!" + +Joan looked up at the black roof above her and shivered. + +"It's a weird place, where one might well expect weird happenings." + +Buck smiled. He was beginning to obtain some insight into the girl's +mood. So used was he to the gloomy hill that its effect was quite lost +on him. Now he knew that some superstitious chord had been struck in +the girl's feelings, and this strange hill had been the medium of its +expression. + +He suddenly leant forward. Resting on the horn of his saddle he looked +into the fair face he so loved. He had seen that haunted look in her +face before. He remembered his first meeting with her at the barn. Its +termination had troubled him then. It had troubled him since. He +remembered the incident when the gold had been presented to her. Again +he had witnessed that hunted, terrified look, that strange +overpowering of some painful thought--or memory. + +Now he felt that she needed support, and strove with all his power to +afford it her. + +"Guess ther's nothing weird outside the mind of man," he said. +"Anyway, nothing that needs to scare folk." He turned and surveyed the +hill and the wonderful green country surrounding them. "Get a look +around," he went on, with a comprehensive gesture. "This rock--it's +just rock, natural rock; it's rock you'll find most anywhere. It's got +dumped down right here wher' most things are green, an' dandy, an' +beautiful to the eye; so it looks queer, an' sets your thoughts +gropin' among the cobwebs of mystery. Ther's sure no life to it but +the life of rock. This great overhang has just been cut by washouts of +centuries in spring, when the creek's in flood, an' it just happens +ther's a hot sulphur lake on top, fed by a spring. I've known it these +years an' years. Guess it's sure always been the same. It ain't got +enough to it to scare a jack-rabbit." + +Joan shook her head. But the man was glad to see the return of her +natural expression, and that her smiling eyes were filled with a +growing interest He knew that her strange mood was passing. + +He went on at once in his most deliberate fashion. + +"You needn't to shake your head," he said, with a smile of confidence. +"It's jest the same with everything. It sure is. We make life what it +is for ourselves. It's the same for everybody, an' each feller gets +busy makin' it different. The feller that gets chasin' trouble don't +need to run. He only needs to set around and shout. Guess it'll come +along if he's yearnin' for it. But it don't come on its own. That's +sure as sure. Keep brain an' body busy doin' the things that lie +handy, an' when you got to make good among the rocks of life, why, I +sure guess you won't find a rock half big enough to stop you." + +Watching the deep glowing eyes of the man Joan felt that his +confidence was not merely the confidence of brave words. A single +glance into his purposeful face left the definite impression that his +was a strength that is given to few. It was the strength of a simple, +honest mind as yet unfouled by the grosser evils of an effete +civilization. His was the force and courage of the wild--the impulse +which governs all creatures who live in the midst of Nature's +battle-grounds. + +"That's--that's because you're so strong you feel that way," she said, +making no attempt to disguise the admiration she felt. "The burden of +life does not always fall so easily. There are things, too, in spite +of what you say, that we cannot control--evils, I mean evils which +afflict us." + +Buck glanced away down the creek. Then his eyes came back to her, and +a new resolve lay behind them. + +"I'm no stronger than others," he said. "Guess I haven't ha'f the +strength of some. I'd say----" he paused. Then he went on, his eyes +gazing fearlessly into hers: "I'd say I haven't ha'f the strength of a +gal who gives up the city--a young gal jest beginning a woman's life +with 'most everything in her favor--an' comes right out here to farm +without a livin' soul to pass her a hand. I ain't got ha'f the courage +of a gal who does that jest because she's chased by thoughts that +worry her an' make her days no better than to set her--hatin' them. +Strength? Say, when you ken laff an' all the time feel that life ain't +ha'f so pleasant as death, why, I'd sure say ther' ain't no greater +strength this side of the check-taker's box." + +Joan could hardly believe her ears as she listened. Astonishment, +resentment, helplessness, incredulity, all struggled for place. How +had this man discovered her secret? How? How? What did he know +besides? For a moment her feelings robbed her of speech and betrayed +themselves in her expressive face. + +But the man's smile, so easy, so disarming, held her. He saw and +understood, and he hastened to reassure her. + +"Guess I ain't pryin'," he said bluntly. "These things just come along +to my tongue, feeling you were troubled at this--hill. You've told me +a heap since you come to the farm. You told me things which I don't +guess you wer' yearnin' to tell any one. But you didn't tell 'em with +your tongue. An' I don't guess you need to. Set your mind easy. You're +scared to death of some trouble which ain't of your seekin'--wal, I +don't believe in such trouble." + +Then he laughed in so unconcerned, so buoyant and whole-hearted a +fashion that Joan's confidence and hope leapt again. + +"Say," he added, as he saw the brightening of her face, "when you +fancy that trouble's gettin' around, when you fancy it's good an' big, +an' a whole heap to carry, why, you can pass it right on to me. I'm +yearnin' to get busy with jest sech a proposition." + +Buck's manner was irresistible. Joan felt herself swept along by it. +She longed there and then to tell him the whole of her miserable +little story. Yes, he made it seem so small to her now. He made it, at +the moment, seem like nothing. It was almost as though he had +literally lifted her burden and was bearing the lion's share of it +himself. Her heart thrilled with gratitude, with joy in this man's +wonderful comradeship. She longed to open her heart to him--to implore +him to shield her from all those terrible anxieties which beset her. +She longed to feel the clasp of his strong hand in hers and know that +it was there to support her always. She felt all these things without +one shadow of fear--somehow his very presence dispelled her shadows. + +But only did she permit her warm smile to convey something of all she +felt as she rejected his offer. + +"You don't know what you are asking," she said gently. Then she shook +her head. "It is impossible. No one can shift the burdens of life on +to the shoulders of another--however willing they be. No one has the +right to attempt it. As we are born, so we must live. The life that is +ours is ours alone." + +Buck caught at her words with a sudden outburst of passionate +remonstrance. + +"You're wrong--dead wrong," he declared vehemently, his eyes glowing +with the depth of feeling stirring him, a hot flush forcing its way +through the deep tanning of his cheeks. "No gal has a right to carry +trouble with a man around to help. She's made for the sunlight, for +the warmth an' ease of life. She's made to set around an' take in all +those good things the good God meant for her so she can pass 'em right +on to the kiddies still to be born. A woman's jest the mother of the +world. An' the men she sets on it are there to see her right. The +woman who don't see it that way is wrong--dead wrong. An' the man that +don't get right up on to his hind legs an' do those things--wal, he +ain't a man." + +It was a moment Joan would never forget. As long as she lived that +eager face, with eyes alight, the rapid tongue pouring out the +sentiments of his simple heart must ever remain with her. It was a +picture of virile manhood such as in her earliest youth she had +dreamed of, a dream which had grown dimmer and dimmer as she +progressed toward womanhood and learned the ways of the life that had +been hers. Here it was in all reality, in all its pristine simplicity, +but--she gathered up her reins and moved her horse round, heading him +toward home. + +"I'm glad I came out here--in the wilderness," she said earnestly. +"I'm glad, too, that I came to see this great black hill. Yes, and I'm +glad to think that I have begun the lessons which this great big world +is going to teach me. For the rest--we'd better go home. Look! The +daylight is going." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A STUDY IN MISCHIEF + + +Nearly three months had passed and all Beasley Melford's affairs were +amply prospering. His new saloon was the joy of his heart. It had been +completed more than a week, which week had been something in the +nature of a triumph of financial success. The camp was booming as he +had never dared to hope it would boom. Traders were opening up +business all round him, and the output of gold was increasing every +day. But, with all this rapid development, with all the wrangling and +competition going on about him, he was the centre of the commercial +interests of Yellow Creek, and his saloon was the centre of all its +traffic. + +But he was quite alive to the fact that he must maintain his position +and custom by keeping well in line, even just a little ahead of all +competition. He knew that to rest on his oars would be to court swift +disaster. It must be his constant thought to make his place more and +more attractive, to listen to the voice of public requirements, and +seize every opportunity of catering for them. + +His saloon was no better than a gambling-hell and drinking-booth, the +dry goods side of his enterprise being almost insignificant. For he +knew that the more surely his customers could indulge in such pastimes +in comparative comfort the more surely he would keep them. So he made +these things the basis of his trade. But there were other needs to be +provided for. Therefore, on the completion of his new saloon, and the +moment his vanity had been satisfied by the erection of a great board +top, set up on the pitch of the roof, announcing in blatant lettering +that it was "Melford's Hotel," he set to work to erect a dance hall +and a livery barn. He foresaw the necessity of running a stage, and he +never lost sight of the fact that a great number of the women of the +class he wished to see about were invading the place. Then, too, the +dance hall could be used as a boarding establishment for those who had +no homes of their own. + +It was a precious thought, and, after a journey to Leeson Butte to +consult his partner, these matters were put in hand. He no longer +worked single-handed. His establishment was increased by the advent of +a bartender, a Chinese cook, and a livery stable keeper. These, and +some casual labor from among the loafers, supplied him with all the +help he so far found necessary. + +The bar and the gambling-tables were always his own care. These were +the things he would never trust to other hands. The bartender was his +helper only, who was never allowed to escape the observation of his +lynx eyes. + +Yes, Beasley Melford was flourishing as he intended to flourish, and +his satisfaction was enormous. In the mornings he was always busy +supervising the work, in the afternoons he gave himself what leisure +his restless spirit demanded. But in the evenings he gathered his +harvest by rascally methods of flagrant extortion. + +It was during the latter part of his afternoon leisure that he was +suddenly disturbed by the appearance of Montana Ike in his bar. He was +stretched full length upon his counter, comfortably reviewing a +perfect maze of mental calculations upon the many schemes which he +had in hand, when the youngster pushed the swing door open and +blustered in. + +Beasley was sitting up in an instant. He hated this sort of sudden +disturbance. He hated men who rushed at him. He could never be certain +of their intentions. When he saw who his visitor was there was very +little friendliness in his greeting. + +"Wot in hell you want rushin' that way?" he demanded arrogantly. +"Guess your thirst ain't on a time limit." + +But the ginger-headed youth ignored his ill-temper. He was too full of +his own affairs. He simply grinned. + +"Fish out them durned scales o' yours," he cried gleefully. "Fish 'em +out, an' set your big weights on 'em. Ther' ain't goin' to be no chat +nor drink till you weighed in. Then I guess the drink'll be right up +to you." + +Beasley's mood changed like lightning. He swung over behind his bar +and dropped to the floor on the other side, his eyes alight, and every +faculty alert for trade. + +"Wot's it?" he demanded. "Struck it big?" he went on as the dingy gold +scales were produced from the shelf at the back. Then he laughed +amiably. "It needs to be big, wakin' me in my slack time." + +"Oh, it's big enuff," cried Ike confidently, his eager, young, animal +face alight with pleasure. + +He watched the other with impatient eyes as he deliberately picked out +the weights. But Beasley was too slow, and, with an impatient +exclamation, he snatched up the biggest of them and set it on the +somewhat delicate scales with a heavy hand. + +"Say, you're rapid as a sick funeral," he cried. "I ain't got no time +to waste. What I got here'll need that--an' more. Ther'!" + +Beasley's temper was never easy, and his narrow eyes began to sparkle. + +"You're mighty fresh," he cried. "Guess I'm----" + +But his remark remained unfinished. With a boisterous laugh the boy +flung a small canvas bag on the counter and emptied its contents +before the other's astonished eyes. + +"Ther'," he cried gleefully. "I want dollars an' dollars from you. An' +you'll sure see they ain't duds." + +Beasley's eyes opened wide. In a moment he had forgotten his +ill-humor. + +From the gold spread out before him he looked up into the other's face +with a half-suspicious, wholly incredulous stare. + +"You got that from your claim--to-day?" he asked. + +"An' wher' in hell else?" + +"Sure!" Beasley fingered the precious nuggets lovingly. "Gee! Ther's +nigh five hundred dollars there." + +"Fi' hundred--an' more," cried Ike anxiously. + +But Beasley's astonishment was quickly hidden under his commercial +instincts. He would have called them "commercial." + +"We'll soon fix that," he said, setting the scales. + +Ike leant against the bar watching the man finger his precious ore as +he placed each of the six nuggets in the scale and weighed them +separately. He took the result down on paper and worked their separate +values out at his own market prices. In five minutes the work was +completed, and the man behind the bar looked up with a grin. + +"I don't gener'ly make a bad guess," he said blandly. "But I reckoned +'em a bit high this journey. Ther's four hundred an' seventy-six +dollars comin' to you--ha'f cash an' ha'f credit. Is it a deal?" + +The other's face flamed up. A volcanic heat set him almost shouting. + +"To hell!" he cried fiercely. "Ther's fi' hundred dollars ther' if +ther's a cent. An' I want it all cash." + +Beasley shook his head. He had this boy's exact measure, and knew just +how to handle him. + +"The scales don't lie," he said. "But ther', it's the way wi' youse +fellers. You see a chunk o' gold an' you don't see the quartz stickin' +around it. Here, I'll put a hundred an' seventy-six credit an' the +rest cash. I can't speak fairer." + +He drew a roll of bills from his hip-pocket and began counting the +three hundred out. He knew the sight of them was the best argument he +could use. It never failed. Nor did it do so now. + +Ike grumbled and protested in the foulest language he was capable of, +but he grabbed the dollars when they were handed to him, and stowed +them into his hip-pocket with an eagerness which suggested that he +feared the other might repent of his bargain. And Beasley quickly +swept the precious nuggets away and securely locked them in his safe, +with the certain knowledge that his profit on the deal was more than +cent for cent. + +"You'll take rye," he said as he returned his keys to his pocket. "An' +seein' it's your good day, an' it's on me, we'll have it out o' this +thirteen-year-old bottle." + +He pushed the bottle across the counter and watched Ike pour himself +out a full "four fingers." The sight of his gluttony made Beasley feel +glad that the thirteen-year-old bottle had been replenished that +morning from the common "rot-gut" cask. After their drink he became +expansive. + +"That's an elegant claim of yours, Ike," he said, taking up his +favorite position on the bar. "It's chock full of alluvial. Don't +scarcely need washing. Guess I must ha' paid you two thousand dollars +an' more since--since we got busy. Your luck was mighty busy when they +cast the lots." + +"Luck? Guess I'm the luckiest hoboe in this layout," Ike cried with a +confidence that never seemed to require the support of rye whisky. + +Beasley's eyes sparkled maliciously. + +"How about Pete?" he grinned. He knew that Ike had an utter +detestation of Pete, and did not have to guess at the reason. "I paid +him more than that by fi' hundred. How's that?" + +"Tcha'! Pete ain't no account anyways," Ike retorted angrily. "Say, he +pitches his dollars to glory at poker 'most every night. Pete ain't +got no sort o' savee. You don't see me bustin' my wad that way." + +"How about the gals? Guess you hand 'em a tidy pile." + +"Gals!" Ike suddenly became thoughtful. His gaze wandered toward the +window. Then he abruptly turned back to the bar and clamored for +another drink. "We'll have that thirteen-year-old," he cried. "An' +guess I'll have a double dose. Gals!" he went on, with a sneer, as the +other watched him fill a brimming tumbler. + +"Ther's sure on'y one gal around here. That's why I got around now. +Guess I'm payin' her a 'party' call right now, 'fore the folks get +around. Say, I'm goin' to marry that gal. She's sure a golden woman. +Golden! Gee, it sounds good!" + +Beasley grinned. He was on a hot trail and he warmed to his work. + +"Goin' to ask her now?" he inquired amiably, eyeing the spirit the man +had poured out. + +Ike laughed self-consciously. + +"Sure," he said, draining his glass. + +"What about Pete?" + +Ike looked sharply into the other's grinning face. Then he banged his +glass angrily on the counter and moved toward the door. + +"Pete ken go plumb to hell!" he cried furiously over his shoulder as +he passed out. + +Beasley dropped nimbly from his counter and looked after him through +the window. He saw him vault into the saddle and race away down the +trail in the direction of the farm. + +His eyes were smiling wickedly. + +"Don't guess Pete's chasin' ther' to suit you, Master Ike," he +muttered. "Marry that gal, eh? Not on your life. You pore silly guys! +You're beat before you start--beat a mile. Buck's got you smashed to a +pulp. Kind of wish I'd given you less cash and more credit. Hello!" + +He swung round as the door was again thrust open. This time it was +Blue Grass Pete who strode into the room. + +"Wher's Ike?" he demanded without preamble the moment he beheld the +grinning face of the saloon-keeper. + +"Gee!" Beasley's grin suddenly broke out into a loud laugh. He brought +his two hands down on the counter and gave himself up to the joy of +the moment. + +Pete watched him with growing unfriendliness. + +"You're rattled some," he said at last, with elaborate sarcasm. Then, +as Beasley stood up choking with laughter and rubbing his eyes, he +went on: "Seems to me I asked you a civil question." + +Beasley nodded, and guffawed again. + +"You sure did," he said at last, stifling his mirth as he beheld the +other's threatening frown. "Well, I ain't laffin' at you. It's--it's +jest at things." + +But Pete had no sense of humor. He disliked Beasley, and simply wanted +his information now. + +"Ike been along?" he demanded doggedly. + +Beasley spluttered. Then he subsided into a malicious grin again. + +"Sure," he said. "He's been in with a fat wad. Say, he's a lucky +swine. 'Most everything comes his way. Guess he can't never touch bad. +He's ahead on the game, he's a golden-haired pet with the gals, an' he +gits gold in--lumps." + +But Pete's dark face and hungry eyes showed no appreciation, and +Beasley knew that the man's mood was an ugly one. + +"Wher's he now?" + +"Can't jest say. I didn't ask him wher' he was goin'. Y' see I cashed +his gold, and we had a drink. He seemed excited some. Guess he was +sort of priming himself. Maybe he's gone along to the gals. Have a +drink?" + +"No--yes, give us a horn of rye." + +The man behind the bar pushed the bottle across. + +"What you needin' him for?" he asked with apparent unconcern. + +Pete snatched at his drink. + +"That ain't your affair," he retorted surlily. + +"Sure it ain't. I jest asked--casual." + +Pete banged his empty glass on the counter. + +"I'm needin' him bad," he cried, his eyes furiously alight. "I'm +needin' him cos I know the racket he's on. See? He quit his claim +early cos--cos----" + +"Cos he's goin' to pay a 'party' call on that Golden Woman," cried +Beasley, appearing to have made a sudden discovery. "I got it, now. +That's why he was in sech a hurry. That's why he needed a good dose o' +rye. Say, that feller means marryin' that gal. I've heard tell he's +got it all fixed with her. I've heard tell she's dead sweet on him. +Wal, I ain't sure but wot it's natural. He's a good looker; so is she. +An' he's a bright boy. Guess he's got the grit to look after a gal +good. He's a pretty scrapper. Another drink?" + +Pete refilled his glass. His fury was at bursting-point, and Beasley +reveled in the devil now looking out of his angry eyes. + +"He's gone across ther' now?" he demanded, after swallowing his second +drink. His question was ominously quiet. + +Beasley saw the man's hands finger the guns at his waist. It was a +movement the sight of which gave him a wonderful satisfaction. + +"Seems like it," he said. "Though course I can't rightly say. I see +him ride off down the trail that way----" + +"Here, I'll take another drink. I'm goin' after----" + +"Say, you ain't goin' to butt in with two folks courtin'?" cried +Beasley, blandly innocent. + +But Pete had no reply. He drained his third drink and, flinging the +glass down, bolted out of the bar; while Beasley turned with a +malicious chuckle, and scrupulously entered up three drinks against +the man's name on the slate. + +"I'd give somethin' to see it," he muttered. Then he rubbed out the +entry he had made. "Guess I'll make it six drinks. He's too rattled to +remember." + +Ten minutes later a number of men were lounging in the saloon, and +Beasley, in the leisure of administering to their wants, was relating +to them the story of the afternoon's events. At the conclusion he +added his own comment, which was not without definite purpose. + +"Say, if they ain't jest like two dogs worritin' a bone you got me +plumb beat," he said. Then he added with an air of outraged virtue: +"I'd like to say right here she's jest playin' them fellers for their +wads. Oh, she's a keen one, her eyes is right on to business. She'll +sure have 'em shootin' each other right up. Seems to me a gal like +that ain't no right in this yer city. She's a scandal to the place. +An' a danger. Wot we fellers needs to figure on is the liberty an' +safety of our citizens, an' anything calc'lated to be a danger to that +needs to git seen to." + +Some of the men concurred half-heartedly. They were men who had come +into the camp with the rush, and were anxious to keep in with the +saloon-keeper. Still, even they were very little stirred by his +appeal. They cared not the least bit in the world who was shot up, or +who did the shooting, so long as they were not personally concerned +beyond the rôle of spectators. + +So for once his mischief fell flat. It was too early in the day to +make the impression he needed. They were not sufficiently primed with +rye. So Beasley contented himself with insinuating the bottle toward +doubtful customers, and easing his disappointment by making all the +trade he could. + +But presently a diversion occurred by the advent of Buck. He rode up, +his great horse loaded down with the carcasses of three splendid deer. +He had brought them in for sale. Game was a precious thing in this +camp, where a diet of simple beef ruled. + +The moment he displayed his wares there was a rush to bid for them, +and Beasley, much to his chagrin, found himself forced to pay boom +prices before he could secure them for retailing. He paid ungraciously +enough. If there was one man more than another in the camp he +begrudged anything to it was Buck. Besides, it made him utterly +furious to think that he never came up against this man on any +debatable matter but what he managed to come off worst. + +However, his policy forced him to stifle his resentment, and he paid, +mentally adding another item to the long list of his personal +animosities to be wiped out at some future date. + +But Buck's presence was an opportunity for mischief not to be +altogether missed. Nor was Beasley the man to let the moment pass +without availing himself of it. Buck's interest in Joan was something +to be played upon at all times. Therefore he drew him aside in a +manner as portentous and ingratiating as he could make it. + +Buck, wondering at his drift, submitted all unwillingly. + +"Say," Beasley began, the moment they were out of ear-shot of the +rest, "guess you ain't bin around the farm lately--I mean this +afternoon?" + +Buck looked him coldly in the eye. + +"No--why?" + +Beasley returned his look in consummate irritation. He pretended to be +annoyed at his coolness. He shrugged and turned away, speaking over +his shoulder as he went. + +"Oh, nuthin'! Guess it might be as well if you had." + +He went back to his bar, and in a moment was busy again at his trade. +Buck looked after him for one doubting second. Then he too turned away +and went out to his horse. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE ABILITIES OF MRS. RANSFORD + + +Joan was smiling happily, watching the waging of a droll little +farmyard warfare. Just now her life was running very smoothly, and the +shadows of memory were steadily receding. She had almost forgotten the +few unpleasant moments when she had first beheld the repellent +ugliness of Devil's Hill nearly a week ago. Since then nothing had +occurred to raise fresh alarm, and memory, with that pleasant knack +inspired of perfect physical health, had gently mellowed and lost +something of its power to disturb. + +It was a curious scene. The farm was still, so still, in the glowing +afternoon heat. The cattle were out in the pastures filling themselves +with the succulent grass and dozing the long daylight hours away. The +"hired" man was out with the team, breaking a new patch of prairie +land in the interim between the haying and harvesting. The hogs were +gently snuffling in their pens, and a few hens and cockerels were +amiably flirting whilst scratching about amongst the barn litter in +that busy, inconsequent manner so suggestive to the human mind of +effort for the sheer delight of being busy. + +It was a scene such as she had often dreamed of, and something which +very nearly approached her ideal. + +Here, in one corner of the yard, where she stood, sun-bonneted to +shelter her face from the burning attentions of the summer sun, +leaning idly against a water barrel standing at the corner of the +barn, she watched the farmyard comedy which was rapidly threatening to +disturb the general peace. A large hen with a late-hatched brood of +chicks, whose colors suggested the polygamous conditions under which +her matrimonial affairs were carried on, with feathers ruffled and +comb flaming, with head lowered and beak agape, was angrily defying an +absurd-looking pig which had scarcely passed its sucking age. + +They had met quite suddenly round the corner of the implement shed. +For the moment they stood disconcerted, while the agitated hen clucked +alarm at her offspring. The pig, squealing in a high treble, was +standing with snout twitching and front feet apart, a picture of +idiotic confusion. Perhaps the hen, with the superior feminine +knowledge of her age, understood something of the situation, and +appreciated the young porker's inability. Anyway, she took the +initiative in aggression, and, vainly struggling to cover her rather +riotous brood with outspread wings, cackled furiously and prepared for +the onslaught which secretly she knew was not forthcoming. + +The porker's mind seemed to be in a whirl of doubt, for he looked +vainly from side to side to find some adequate means of escape. His +sense did not carry him sufficiently far to prompt him to turn tail +and bolt for safety. He just stood there and continued his helpless +baby squealing. This was all the old hen needed to drive her to +extremities. Realizing his weakness she gave one fluttering spring, +scattering her chicks in all directions, pecked the pig's nose +violently, turned something like a somersault as she landed on the +ground, gathered herself together, and incontinently fled, leaving +her brood to care for themselves. Thus the pig was left looking after +her with an expression in its silly eyes that suggested to the girl +nothing so much as an amazed wonder as to what the fuss was all about. + +Joan stood convulsed with laughter. The pig interested her vastly more +than the hen, and she waited the further working of its stupid mind. +But she was disappointed. Its momentary confusion had passed, and, +lowering its pink snout, it groveled on in search of offal, the +delights of which its young mind was just awakening to. + +She had moved away to pass on toward the house when she was startled +by the sound of a harsh laugh close behind her. She turned and found +herself staring into the grinning face of Montana Ike. + +She was angry and not without a qualm of apprehension. This man had +become a constant caller at the farm at all sorts of odd and +unexpected moments. And his attitude was such that she thoroughly +resented him. In his vaunting, braggadocio manner he had assumed a +sort of proprietary interest in her and her affairs. + +The moment she faced him, his confident attitude became more +pronounced. + +"Comic, ain't it?" he suggested. Then he added, as though to assure +her of his appreciation: "Nigh as comic as a cirkis." + +But all Joan's delight in the scene was gone. Her beautiful eyes were +sparkling angrily. She made up her mind then and there to be rude to +the man. She would not have him about the place. + +"What do you want?" she inquired bluntly. + +The boy's grin remained, but his furtive eyes opened a shade wider. + +"Wot do I want? Gee! You're feelin' friendly." Then he put on a manner +he intended to be facetious. "An' me left my patch o' pay-dirt, an' +all, to pay a 'party' call. Say, Miss Golden, that ain't sassiety ways +in this yer camp." + +His attempt at pleasantry went for nothing. Joan, studying the man +closely, saw that his face was flushed, and, even at that distance, +she could smell the drink he had been imbibing. She must get rid of +him, but it was not so easy to her gentle nature. However, she took a +firm stand. + +"Maybe not," she said coldly. "But when people make 'party' calls they +generally do it at convenient times. I'm very busy." + +The man laughed in the harsh manner she disliked and rather feared. + +"Kind o' seemed busy when I got around. Y' see you was sure that busy +you didn't hear my hoss comin' along, you never see me git off him an' +leave him back ther', an' me come along over an' stand watchin' you +doin' nuthin' fer nigh fi' minutes. Oh, you're sure busy!" + +Joan flushed. She knew she had lied, but to be told so by this man was +infuriating. She made no attempt to further disguise her feelings. + +"I said I was busy," she cried deliberately. "Surely that should be +sufficient." + +But the man had no intention of accepting his dismissal. + +"It jest depends wot a feller's come around for," he said, no whit +disconcerted. "Mebbe you won't find you're busy when you heard what I +got to say." He laughed immoderately. Beasley's whisky was at work, +and he had no fear for the purpose in hand. + +Suddenly he dived a hand into his hip-pocket and drew out the bills +the saloon-keeper had paid him. + +"Look at them," he cried in a voice that was high-pitched with +elation. "Ther's dollars an' dollars ther', but 'tain't nuthin' to +wot's to come. Say, I got another cache o' gold waitin' back ther' at +my shack, but I ain't handin' it to Beasley," he went on cunningly. +"Oh, no, not me! I'm a business guy, I am. I hold that up, an' all the +rest I git from my patch, an' I'm goin' to cash it in Leeson Butte, at +the bank, fer a proper exchange. See? Oh, I ain't no sucker, I ain't. +An' a feller needs a heap o' dollars, treatin' his gal right." + +Joan hardly knew how to deal with such a situation. Besides, the now +obvious condition of the man alarmed her. However, he gave her no +opportunity to reply. For, delighted with his own talk, he went on +promptly-- + +"Now I tho't a whole heap since I got this wad. A wad like this takes +you thinkin', that is, ef you ain't a low-down rattle-brain like Pete, +or a psalm-smitin' son-of-a-moose like that feller, Buck. Course they +ain't got no sort o' savvee, anyways, so they don't count nuthin'. But +wi' a feller like me things is diff'rent. Now, this is what I got +fixed. Y' see you can't have no sort of a time in this yer camp, but +it's diff'rent in Leeson Butte. Guess we'll get a buggy from the camp +an' drive into Leeson. Ther's dance halls ther', an' they run a decent +faro joint at a place I know. An' they sell elegant rye, too. Wal, +we'll git that buggy, an' git fixed up reg'lar in Leeson, an' have a +bully time, an' git right back to here an' run this yer farm between +us. How's that?" + +"I--I don't think I understand." + +Joan's alarm grew. This man was deliberately proposing to marry her. +Supported by the nerve his half-drunken condition inspired, his senses +were so inflamed that he took the whole matter for granted. She looked +into his sensual young face, the hard eyes, and at the loose lips that +surrounded his unclean teeth, and something like panic seized her. +However, she knew she must not show her fear. + +But he was waiting. And in reality her reply came without any +hesitation. She shook her head. + +"You've made a mistake," she said decidedly but gently. "I have no +intention of marrying anybody." Then, taking her courage in both +hands, she permitted something of her dislike and contempt to creep +into her manner. "It seems to me you take a great deal too much for +granted. You come here when you think you will, wholly uninvited, and, +from the first, you hint broadly that you regard me as--as the person +you intend to marry. That is presumption, to put it mildly, and I have +no use for people who--presume." + +She moved as though to return to the house. But Ike, all his +confidence suddenly merged into a volcanic heat, reached out a hand to +detain her. His hand came into rough contact with the soft flesh of +her shoulder, and, shaking it off, she faced him with flaming eyes. + +"Don't dare to do that again," she cried, with bosom heaving. "Go, +leave this farm instantly. Remember you are trespassing here!" + +Her anger had outweighed all her alarm, even, perhaps, all discretion. +For the man was in no mood to accept his dismissal easily. + +"So that's it, is it?" he cried with a sudden hoarseness. "Oho, my +lady! We're putting on airs," he sneered. "Not good enough, eh? +Presuming, am I? An' who in blazes are you that you can't be touched? +Seems to me a decent honest citizen's jest as good fer you as fer any +other gal, an' my dollars are clean. What in thunder's amiss?" Then +his heat lessened, and his manner became more ingratiating. "See here, +Golden," he went on persuasively, "you don't mean that, sure! Wot's +the matter with me? I ain't weak-kneed, nor nuthin'. I ain't scared o' +no man. I'd scrap the devil ef you ast me. An' say, just think wot we +ken do with the dollars. You'd make a real upstander in a swell house, +with folks waitin' around on you, an' di'monds an' things. Say, I'm +jest bustin' to make good like that. You can't jest think how much +gold ther' is in my patch--an' you brought it along with you. You give +it to me--your luck." + +There was something almost pathetic in his pleading, and for a brief +moment a shade of sympathy softened the girl. + +"Please don't persist, Ike," she said almost gently. "Still, I can +never marry you. It's--it's--absurd," she added, with a touch of +impatience she could not wholly keep back. + +But that touch of impatience suddenly set fire again to the man's +underlying intolerance of being thwarted. + +"Absurd, is it?" He laughed with a curious viciousness which once more +disturbed the girl. "Absurd fer you to marry me," he cried harshly. +"Absurd fer you, cos I ain't got no smarmy eddication, cos I ain't +dressed in swaller tails an' kids, same as city folks. Oh, I know! +You're a leddy--a city-raised leddy, an' I--I'm jest a prairie hog. +That's it. You ain't got no use fer me. You jest come along right here +an' laff, an' laff at us folks. Oh, you needn't to say you hav'n't!" +as she raised a protesting hand. "Think I'm blind, think I'm deaf. Me! +Say, you shown it right along jest so plain ther' wer'n't no need to +tell it in langwidge." He broke off for a moment as though his anger +had robbed him of further speech, and Joan watched the growing purpose +in his hot eyes. Her own face was the color of marble. She was +inwardly trembling, but she stood her ground with eyes stonily cold. +She made no attempt to speak now, or defend herself against his +accusations. She knew it would be useless. Only she longed in her mind +for the presence of Buck to protect her from the insult she felt to be +coming. Nor was she mistaken. + +The man's pause gave way before the surge of his anger. + +"See here," he suddenly cried, as though he had just arrived at a +decision. "I ain't an easy man to laff at, as the folks around here +knows. Ther' ain't no man around here can laff at Montana Ike, an' I +don't guess no gal wi' red ha'r's goin' to neither. See?" He glanced +swiftly round the farm. There was no one in sight. Suddenly one great +hand shot out and he seized the girl by the arm in a crushing, +powerful grasp and dragged her to him. + +"You guess you ken laff at me," he cried, seizing her with both hands +and holding her in spite of her struggles. "Wal, you ken laff after +you kissed me. You ken laff, oh, yes! when I tell the folks you kissed +me. Seems to me the laff'll mostly be with me." + +He drew her toward him while she struggled violently. Then she +shrieked for help, but she knew the only help she could hope for was +the wholly inadequate help of her housekeeper. She shrieked Mrs. +Ransford's name with all her power, while the man's face came nearer. +It was quite hopeless; she knew she could not defend herself. And the +half-drunken man was laughing as though he enjoyed her terror. + +She felt his hot breath on her cheeks, she closed her eyes to shut out +the sight of his grinning face. He released his hold with one hand and +flung his arm about her waist. She fought with might and main, +shrieking with all the power of her lungs. She suddenly felt the +impress of his hot lips on her cheek, not once, but a dozen times. +Then of a sudden he released her with a bitter oath, as the shrieking +voice of Mrs. Ransford sounded close by, and the thwack of a heavy +broom fell upon his head and shoulders. + +"I'll teach you, you miser'ble hoboe!" cried the old woman's strident +voice as her powerful arms swung her lusty broom aloft. "I'll teach +you, you scallawag!" Thwack fell the broom, and, releasing Joan, the +man sought to protect his head with his arms. "I'll give you a dose +you won't fergit, you scum o' creation!" Thwack went the broom again. +"Wait till the folks hear tell o' this, you miser'ble, miser'ble cur!" +Again the broom fell, and the man turned to flee. "You'd run, would +you? Git a fork, Miss Joan!" With a surprising rush the fat creature +lunged another smash at the man's head with her favorite weapon. + +The blow fell short, for Ike had made good his retreat. And curiously +enough he made no attempt to disarm her, or otherwise stand his ground +once he was beyond the range of her blows. Perhaps he realized the +immensity of his outrage, perhaps he foresaw what might be the result +to himself when the story of his assault reached the camp. Perhaps it +was simply that he had a wholesome terror of this undoubted virago. +Anyway, he bolted for his horse and vaulted into the saddle, galloping +away as though pursued by something far more hurtful than a fat +farm-wife's avalanche of vituperation. + +"Mussy on us!" cried the old woman, flinging her broom to the ground +as the man passed out of sight. "Mussy me, wot's he done to you, my +pretty?" she cried, rushing to the girl's side and catching her to her +great bosom. "There, there, don't 'e cry, don't 'e to cry for a +scallawag like that," she said, as the girl buried her face on her +shoulder and sobbed as though her heart would break. "There, there," +she went on, patting the girl's shoulder, "don't 'e demean yerself +weppin' over a miser'ble skunk like that. Kiss yer, did he? Kiss yer! +Him! Wal, he won't kiss nobody no more when the folks is put wise. An' +I'll see they gets it all. You, a 'Merican gal, kissed by a hog like +that. Here, wipe yer cheeks wi' this overall; guess they'll sure +fester if you don't. Ther', that's better," she went on as Joan, +choking back her sobs, presently released herself from her bear-like +embrace. + +"It's my own fault," the girl said tearfully. "I ought never to have +spoken to him at all. I----" + +But Mrs. Ransford gave her no chance to finish what she had to say. + +"Wot did I tell you?" she cried, with a power of self-righteousness. +"Wot did I tell you? You ain't got no right to git a hob-a-nobbin' +with sech scum. They're all scallawags, every one of 'em. Men!--say, +these yer hills is the muck-hole o' creation, an' the men is the +muck. I orter know. Didn't I marry George D. Ransford, an' didn't I +raise twins by him, as you might say, an' didn't I learn thereby, an' +therewith, as the sayin' is, that wi' muck around there's jest one way +o' cleanin' it up an' that's with a broom! Come right into the house, +pretty. You're needin' hot milk to soothe your nerves, my pore, pore! +Come right in. Guess I'm a match fer any male muck around these hills. +Mussy on us, what's that!" + +Both women started and stood staring with anxious, terrified eyes down +the trail which led to the camp. Two shots had been fired almost +simultaneously, and now, as they waited in horrified silence, two more +shots rang out, echoing against the hills in the still air with +ominous threat. After that all was quiet again. + +Presently the strained look in the farm-wife's face relaxed, and she +turned to her charge. + +"That's him," she cried, with a swift return to her angry, +contemptuous manner. "It's him showin' off--like all them scallawags. +Come right in, missie," she added, holding out her hands to lead the +girl home. + +But her kindly intention received an unexpected shock. Joan brushed +her roughly aside, and her look was almost of one suddenly demented. + +"No, no," she cried in a voice of hysterical passion. "You don't +understand. You can't understand. Those shots--oh! It is my fate--my +curse. I must go!" + +And she fled down the trail in the direction whence the sound had +proceeded--fled, leaving Mrs. Ransford staring stupidly after her, a +prey to utter bewilderment. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE MEETING ON THE TRAIL + + +The quiet was profound. All the world seemed so still. There was no +sign of life, yet the warm air was thrilling with the unseen life of +an insect world. The heat haze rose from the soft, deep surface sand +of the trail, and the grass-lined edges looked parched beneath the +glare of the summer sun. There was no breath from the mountains down +here, where the forest trees crowded in on either side, forming a +great screen against the cooling breezes, and holding the heat like +the sides of an oven. + +A startled bird fluttered amongst the branches of a tree with that +restless movement which so surely indicates the alarm of some subtle +sense which no other creature possesses in so keen a degree. An +answering rustle came from near by. And in a moment this was followed +by a bustling rush among the leaves as two winged mates fled farther +into the forest. Yet the sudden flight seemed quite unnecessary. + +Again the stillness was broken. This time it was by the harsh voice of +a black carrion. This too was followed by movement, only the movement +had no haste or suggestion of fear. It was simply the heavy flapping +of slow-moving wings. Two enormous crows launched themselves upon the +air from the topmost branches of a distant tree, and perched on the +crest of another at the trail-side. + +They sat there in solemn, unmoving silence, but with eyes alert and +watchful, and who might tell the thought passing through their +unwholesome minds! + +But now a further sound broke the stillness--a sound which perhaps +accounted for the movements of the birds. A soft patter grew out of +the distance like the pad of muffled feet. But it was faint and +seemingly far off. The sharp eyes of the feathered watchers were +scanning the horizon from their lofty perches. The sound grew. And as +it grew the waiting carrion turned to view both distances of the +trail. It was evident that the growing sound had a double source. + +The padding feet became more distinct. Yes, the sounds were sharper. +The softness had gone, developing into the rhythmic beat of hard hoofs +speeding from either direction. Two horses were galloping down the +trail at a rapid pace, and quickly it became evident that their +meeting must occur somewhere almost directly beneath the watchful eyes +of the waiting birds. + +Nearer and nearer came the hoof-beats. The birds were plucking at +their feathers with an unconcern all too apparent. They ruffled their +wings and preened their plumage, a sure indication of satisfaction. +One of the galloping horses slackened its gait. Perhaps its rider had +heard the approach of that other, and, with the curious instinctive +suspicion of the western trail, prepared to pass him under the best +conditions for defensiveness. Perhaps it was simply the natural action +of a horseman on the trail. + +But the horse from the other direction had slackened speed too. His +rider, too, had reduced his gait to a walk. + +The birds overhead ceased their preening and looked below for the +possible development they seem to be ever awaiting. It makes no +difference, they follow the trail of all animal life, waiting, +waiting, with a patience inexhaustible, for the moment of stillness +which tells them that life has passed and the banquet awaits them. + +One of the horsemen came into full view from the height above. The +second horseman appeared round a bend. Both men were mounted on the +lean, hard-muscled horses of prairie breeding. They were spare of +flesh and uncared for, but their muscles were hard and their legs +clean. Between them a bend in the trail still intervened, but with +each moment they were drawing nearer to each other. + +Right under the tree upon which the crows were perched Pete drew rein +and sat listening to the shuffling gait of the oncoming horse. The +man's lean face was dark with a brooding hatred. His eyes were +fiercely alight with expectancy. A revolver lay across his thigh, the +butt of it firmly grasped in a hand clutching it with desperate +purpose. + +The trail was the trail to the farm. Ike had gone to the farm. A +horseman was returning along that trail from the direction of the +farm. Such was the argument behind his aggressive action. It was a +simple argument which in his sober senses might have needed support to +urge him to the course he now contemplated. But he was not sober; +Beasley had seen to that. He was no more sober than was Ike. + +Ike's horse was moving slowly--much slower than its usual walking gait +The man was craning forward. Who, he wondered, was riding toward the +farm, and for what purpose? His right hand was on the butt of his +revolver, but his weapon was still in its holster, for his action was +purely precautionary in a country where, when a man has enemies, or +has done those things which he knows his fellows resent, it is +advisable to look for no support outside his own ability to defend +himself. + +He remembered the screams of Joan, and he knew how the hills echoed. +He wondered, and wondering he regretted something of what he had done. +But he regretted it only for possible consequences to himself. In +reality he reveled in the warm memory of the feel of the girl's soft +cheek. + +His horse reached the bend. He could no longer hear the hoof-beats of +the other. He drew up with a sudden, nervous movement, and his gun +left its holster. But his nerves passed, and, with a foul oath, he +urged his horse forward. He rounded the bend and came face to face +with the figure of Blue Grass Pete. + +"Wher' you bin?" demanded the latter in a manner that was a deliberate +insult. + +Ike did the only thing his wit could prompt. He laughed. It was a +harsh, mirthless laugh, which was equally an insult. + +"Quit it!" roared Pete in a blind fury. "Wher' you bin, I say?" + +Ike abandoned his laugh, but his face was furiously grinning. + +"Bin?" he echoed. "I bin wher' you needn't to go--wher' it ain't no +use your goin'," he cried, his love of boast prompting him. "I bin to +fix things up. She's goin' to mar----" + +A shot rang out. Ike's face blanched, but like lightning his pistol +bit out its retort. Pete reeled and recovered himself, and again he +fired. Ike leant forward as though seeking support from the horn of +his saddle. Pete had fallen forward on to his horse's neck. Ike raised +his gun and fired again, but there had really been no need for the +shot. Even as his gun spoke the other man fell to the ground and +rolled over. His dark face was turned upward, so that the waiting +crows had a full view of it. + +After that Ike remained quite still. His pale face, turning to a +greenish hue in contrast to his ginger hair, was staring down at the +result of his handiwork. But his eyes were almost unseeing. He was +faint and weary, and in great pain. + +The moments passed. At last he stirred. But his movement was merely to +clutch with feeble fingers at the mane of his horse. Vainly his left +hand clawed amongst the lank hair, while the fingers of his right +released their grip upon his pistol and let it clatter to the ground. + +He crouched there breathing heavily, while a harsh croak from above +split the air. Again he moved as though the sound had awakened him. He +strove to sit up, to lift the reins, and to urge his horse forward. +The beast moved in response to his effort. But the movement was all +that was needed. The man reeled, lost his balance, and fell heavily to +the ground. He too had rolled on to his back--he too was gazing up +with unseeing eyes at the dark-hued carrion whose patience was +inexhaustible. + +For a moment all was still. Then the horses moved as by common +consent. They drew near to each other, and their noses met in that +inquiring equine fashion which suggests friendly overtures. They stood +thus for a while. Then both moved to the side of the trail and began +to graze upon the parching grass after the unconcerned manner of +their kind. + +The heavy flapping of wings told of a fresh movement in the trees +above. Two great black bodies swung out upon the air. They circled +round as though assuring themselves that all was as they could wish +it. Then they settled again. But this time it was on the boughs of a +low bush less than six feet above the staring faces of their intended +victims. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A MAN'S SUPPORT + + +Buck looked up as two crows flew low over his head and passed on their +way, croaking out their alarm and dissatisfaction. Mechanically his +eyes followed their movements. For he was well versed in the sights, +and sounds, and habits of his world. + +Presently he turned again to the trail, and the expression of his eyes +had changed to one of speculation. Cæsar was traveling eagerly. He had +not yet forgotten that farther on along that trail lay the old barn +which had been his home from his earliest recollections. + +Buck had had no intention of making this visit to the farm when he +left Beasley's saloon. He had not had the remotest intention of +carrying out the man's broadly-given hint. A hint from Beasley was +always unwelcome to him, and generally roused an obstinate desire to +take an opposite course. Nor was it until he reached the ford of the +creek that the significance of the man's tone penetrated his dislike +of him. Quite abruptly he made up his mind to keep straight on. +Curiosity, added to a slight feeling of uneasiness, urged him, and, +leaving the ford behind him, he kept on down the trail. + +His decision once taken, he felt easier as he rode on. Besides, he +admitted to himself now, he was rather thankful to the saloon-keeper +for providing him with something in the nature of an excuse for such a +visit. He was different from those others, who, in perfect confidence +and ignorance, required not the least encouragement to persecute Joan +with their attentions. He found it more than difficult to realize that +his visits were anything but irksome to the new owner of the farm now +that she had settled down with the adequate support of her "hired" +man. + +Joan's graciousness to him was the one great delight of his every +waking hour. But he dreaded the moment when her manner might become +the mere tolerance she displayed toward Ike and Pete, and any of the +others who chose to make her farm a halting-place. So his visits had +become rarer; far rarer than made for his own peace of mind, for Joan +was always in his thoughts. + +Tramping the long trail of the mountains her smiling eyes were always +somewhere ahead of him, encouraging him, and shedding a radiance of +hope and delight upon the dullest moments of his routine. Never for +one moment was the delightful picture of her presence absent from his +thoughts. And to him there was nothing in the whole wide world so +fair, and sweet, and worthy of the worship he so willingly cast at her +feet. + +His life had always been full in his wilderness of Nature's splendor. +In his moments of leisure he had been more than happily content in the +pleasant friendship of the man who had sheltered him from childhood. +But now--now as he looked back over all those years, the associations +seemed dull and empty--empty of all that made life worth living. Not +only had he come to realize the woman's place in a man's life. It was +the old story of the fruit of knowledge. Woman had always been a +sealed book to him. Now, at last, the cover had been turned and the +pages lay before him for the reading. He yearned for Joan with all +the strength and passionate ardor of his strong young heart. Nor, even +in his yearning, had he full understanding of the real depths of his +feelings. + +How could he study or analyze them? His love had no thought of the +world in it. It had no thought of anything that could bring it down to +the level of concrete sensation. He could not have told one feeling +that was his. With Joan at his side he moved in a mental paradise +which no language could depict. With Joan at his side he lived with +every nerve pulsating, attuned to a perfect consciousness of joy. With +Joan at his side there was nothing but light and radiance which filled +every sense with a happiness than which he could conceive no greater. +Alone, this great wide world about him was verily a wilderness. + +The man's feelings quickly mastered his momentary uneasiness as his +horse bore him on toward his goal. The forest path over which he was +traveling had lost its hue of gloom which the shadowed pine woods ever +convey. There was light everywhere, that light which comes straight +from the heart and is capable of lending radiance even to the +grave-side itself. + +The trail lay straight ahead of him for some distance. Then it swerved +in a big sweep away to the left. He knew this bend. The farm lay +something less than half a mile beyond it. As they neared it Cæsar +pricked his ears and whinnied. Buck leant forward and patted his neck +out of the very joy of anticipation. It almost seemed to him as if the +creature knew who was waiting at the end of the journey and was +rejoicing with him. For once he had misunderstood the mood of his +horse. + +He realized this in a moment. The eager creature began to move with a +less swinging stride, and his gait quickly became something in the +nature of a "prop." They were round the bend, and the horse whinnied +again. This time it raised its head and snorted nervously. And +instantly Buck was alive to the creature's anxiety. He understood the +quick glancing from side to side, and the halting of that changing +step which is always a sign of fear. + +Ahead the trail completed the letter S it had begun. They were nearing +the final curve to the right. Buck searched the distance for the cause +of Cæsar's apprehension. And all unconsciously his mind went back to +the winging of the crows overhead and the sound of their harsh voices. +He spurred the creature sharply, and steadied him down. + +They reached the final bend and passed round it, and in a moment Buck +had an answer to the questions in his mind. It was a terrible +spectacle that greeted his eyes as he reined his horse in and brought +him to an abrupt halt. He had reached the battle-ground where death +had claimed its toll of human passion. There, swiftly, almost +silently, two men had fought out their rivalry for a woman's favor--a +favor given to neither. + +It needed little enough imagination to read the facts. All the +ingredients of the swift-moving drama were there before his eyes--the +combatants stretched out in the sand of the trail, with staring eyes +and dropping jaws, gazing up at the brilliant vault of the heavens, +whither, may be, their savage spirits had fled; the woman crouching +down at the roadside with face buried upon outstretched arms, her +slight body heaving with hysterical sobs; the horses, horses he knew +well enough by sight, lost to the tragedy amidst the more succulent +roots of the parching grass beneath the shadow of overhanging trees. + +One glance at the combatants told Buck all he wanted to know. They +were dead. He had been too long upon the western trail to doubt the +signs he beheld. His duty and inclination were with the living. In a +moment he was out of the saddle and at Joan's side, raising her from +her position of grief and misery in arms as gentle as they were +strong. + +He had no real understanding of the necessities of the moment. All he +knew, all he desired, was to afford the girl that help and protection +he felt she needed. His first thought was to keep her from a further +sight of what had occurred. So he held her in his arms, limp and +yielding, for one uncertain moment. Then, for the second time in his +life, he bore her off toward her home. + +But now his feelings were of a totally different nature. There was +neither ecstasy nor dreaming. He was anxious and beset. As he bore her +along he spoke to her, encouraging her with gentle words of sympathy +and hope. But her fainting condition left him no reward, and her +half-closed eyes, filled with unshed tears, remained dull and +unresponsive. + + * * * * * + +No sound broke the stillness in the parlor at the farm. Buck was +leaning against the small centre-table gravely watching the bowed head +of the silently-weeping girl, who was seated upon the rough settle +which lined the wall. Her slight figure was supported by the pillows +which had been set in place by the ministering hands of Mrs. Ransford. + +Buck's reception by the farm-wife had been very different on this +occasion. She had met him with his burden some distance down the +trail, whither she had followed her young mistress, whose fleetness +had left her far behind. Her tongue had started to clack at once, but +Buck was in no mood to put up with unnecessary chatter. A peremptory +order had had the astonishing effect of silencing her, and a further +command had set her bustling to help her mistress. + +Once immediate needs had been attended to, the man told his story +briefly, and added his interpretation of the scene he had just +witnessed. He further dispatched the old woman to summon the hired man +from his ploughing, and, for once, found ready obedience where he +might well have expected nothing but objection. + +Thus it was the man and girl were alone in the parlor. Buck was +waiting for Joan's storm of tears to pass. + +The moment came at last, and quite abruptly. Joan stirred; she flung +her head up and dashed the weak tears from her eyes, struggling +bravely for composure. But the moment she spoke her words belied the +resolution, and showed her still in the toils of an overwhelming +despair. + +"What can I do?" she cried piteously. "What am I to do? I can see +nothing--nothing but disaster in every direction. It is all a part of +my life; a part of me. I cannot escape it. I have tried to, but--I +cannot. Oh, I feel so helpless--so helpless!" + +Buck's eyes shone with love and pity. He was stirred to the depths of +his manhood by her appeal. Here again was that shadow she had spoken +of before, that he had become familiar with. He tried to tell himself +that she was simply unnerved, but he knew her trouble was more than +that. All his love drove him to a longing for a means of comforting +her. + +"Forget the things you seen," he said in a low tone. And he felt that +his words were bald--even stupid. + +The girl's troubled eyes were looking up into his in a desperate hope. +It was almost as if this man were her only support, and she were +making one final appeal before abandoning altogether her saving hold. + +"Forget them? Oh, Buck, Buck, you don't know what you are saying. You +don't understand--you can't, or you would not speak like that. You +see," she went on, forgetting in her trouble that this man did not +know her story, "Ike was here. Here! He made--love to me. He--he +kissed me. He brutally kissed me when I had no power to resist him. +And now--now this has happened." + +But the man before her had suddenly changed while she was speaking. +The softness had left his eyes. They had suddenly become hot, and +bloodshot, and hard. His breath came quickly, heavily, his thin +nostrils dilating with the furious emotion that swept through his +body. Ike had kissed her. He had forgotten all her sufferings in his +own sudden, jealous fury. + +Joan waited. The change in the man had passed unobserved by her. Then, +as no answer was forthcoming, she went on-- + +"Wherever I go it is the same. Death and disaster. Oh, it is awful! +Sometimes I think I shall go mad. Is there no corner of the earth +where I can hide myself from the shadow of this haunting curse?" + +"Ike kissed you?" + +Buck's voice grated harshly. Somehow her appeal had passed him by. +All his better thoughts and feelings were overshadowed for the moment. +A fierce madness was sweeping through his veins, his heart, his brain, +a madness of feeling such as he had never before experienced. + +The girl answered him, still without recognizing the change. + +"Yes," she said in a dull, hopeless way. "And the inevitable happened. +It followed swiftly, surely, as it always seems to follow. He is +dead." + +"He got it--as he should get it. He got no more than he'd have got if +I'd been around." + +Buck's mood could no longer escape her. She looked into the hard, +young face, startled. She saw the fury in his eyes, the clenched jaws, +with their muscles outstanding with the force of the fury stirring +him. + +The sight agitated her, but somehow it did not frighten. She half +understood. At least she thought she did. She read his resentment as +that of a man who sees in the outrage a breaking of all the laws of +chivalry. She missed the real note underlying it. + +"What does his act matter?" she said almost indifferently, her mind on +what she regarded as the real tragedy. "He was drunk. He was not +responsible. No, no. It is not that which matters. It was the other. +He left me--to go to his death. Had Pete not been waiting for him it +would have been just the same. Disaster! Death! Oh! can you not see? +It is the disaster which always follows me." + +Her protest was not without its effect. So insistent was she on the +resulting tragedy that Buck found himself endeavoring to follow her +thought in spite of his own feelings. She was associating this +tragedy with herself--as part of her life, her fate. + +But it was some moments before the man was sufficiently master of +himself--before he could detach his thought altogether from the human +feelings stirring him. The words sang on his ear-drums. "He--he kissed +me." They were flaming through his brain. They blurred every other +thought, and, for a time, left him incapable of lending her that +support he would so willingly give her. Finally, however, his better +nature had its way. He choked down his jealous fury, and strove to +find means of comforting her. + +"It's all wrong," he cried, with a sudden force which claimed the +girl's attention, and, for the time at least, held her troubled +thought suspended. "How can this be your doing? Why for should it be a +curse on you because two fellers shoot each other up? They hated each +other because of you. Wal--that's natural. It's dead human. It's been +done before, an' I'm sure guessin' it'll be done again. It's not you. +It's--it's nature--human nature. Say, Miss Joan, you ain't got the +lessons of these hills right yet. Folks out here are diffrent to city +folks. That is, their ways of doin' the same things are diff'rent. We +feel the same--that's because we're made the same--but we act +diff'rent. If I'd bin around, I'd have shot Ike--with a whole heap of +pleasure. An' if I had, wher's the cuss on you? Kissin' a gal like +that can't be done around here." + +"But Pete was not here. He didn't know." + +Joan was quick to grasp the weakness of his argument. + +"It don't matter a cent," cried Buck, his teeth clipping his words. +"He needed his med'cine--an' got it." + +Joan sighed hopelessly. + +"You don't understand, and--and I can't tell it you all. Sometimes I +feel I could kill myself. How can I help realizing the truth? It is +forced on me. I am a leper, a--a pariah." + +The girl leant back on her cushions, and her whole despairing attitude +became an appeal to his manhood. The last vestige of Buck's jealousy +passed from him. He longed to tell her all there was in his heart. He +longed to take her in his arms and comfort her, and protect her from +every shadow the whole wide world held for her. He longed to tell her +of the love that was his, and how no power on earth could change it. +But he did none of these things. + +"The things you're callin' yourself don't sound wholesome," he said +simply. "I can't see they fit in anyway. Guess they ain't natural." + +Joan caught at the word. + +"Natural!" she cried. "Is any of it natural?" She laughed +hysterically. + +Buck nodded. + +"It's all natural," he said. "You've hit it. You don't need my word. +Jest you ask the Padre. He'll give it you all. He'll tell you jest how +notions can make a cuss of any life, an' how to get shut of sech +notions. He's taught me, an' he'll teach you. I can't jest pass his +words on. They don't git the same meaning when I say 'em. I ain't wise +to that sort of thing. But ther's things I am wise to, and they're the +things he's taught me. You're feeling mean, mean an' miser'ble, that +makes me ter'ble mean to see. Say, Miss Joan, I ain't much handin' +advice. I ain't got brain enough to hand that sort of thing around, +but I'd sure ask you to say right here ther' ain't no cuss on your +life, an' never was. You jest guess there's a cuss around chasin' +glory at your expense. Wal, git right up, an' grit your teeth an' +fight good. Don't sit around feeling mean. If you'd do that, I tell +you that cuss'll hit the trail so quick you won't git time to see it, +an' you'll bust yourself laffin' to think you ever tho't it was around +your layout. An' before I done talkin' I'll ast you to remember that +when menfolks git around insultin' a helpless gal, cuss or no cuss, +he's goin' to git his med'cine good--an' from me." + +Buck's effort had its reward. The smile that had gradually found its +way into his own eyes caught something of a reflection in those of the +girl. He had dragged her from the depths of her despair by the force +of the frank courage that was his. He had lifted her by the sheer +strength and human honesty which lay at the foundation of his whole, +simple nature. Joan sighed, and it was an acknowledgment of his +success. + +"Thank you, Buck," she said gently. "You are always so good to me. You +have been so ever since I came. And goodness knows you have little +enough reason for it, seeing it is I who have turned you out of this +home of yours----" + +"We got your money," interrupted Buck, almost brusquely. "This farm +was the Padre's. You never turned me out. An' say, the Padre don't +live a big ways from here. Maybe you'd like him to tell you about +cusses an' things." His eyes twinkled. "He's sure great on cusses." + +But Joan did not respond to the lightness of his manner, and Buck +realized that her trouble was still strong upon her. + +He waited anxiously, watching for the signs of her acceptance of his +invitation. But they were not forthcoming. The deep violet of her eyes +seemed to grow deeper with a weight of thought, and gradually the +man's hopes sank. He had wanted her to see his friend, he had wanted +his friend to see her. But more than all he had wanted to welcome her +to his own home. Nor was the reason of his desire clear even to +himself. + +At last she rose from her seat and crossed over to the window, just as +the sound of voices heralded the return of Mrs. Ransford and the hired +man. It was at that moment she turned to him, speaking over her +shoulder. + +"They've got back," she said. "What are you going to do?" + +"Send those--others--on into camp." + +"Yes." Joan shivered. + +Then she came back to him, and stood with one hand resting on the +table. + +"I--I think I should like to see the Padre. Will you take me to him +one day?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE BRIDGING OF YEARS + + +It was nearly a week later that Joan paid her visit to the fur fort. + +The Padre moved about the room a little uncertainly. Its plainness +troubled him, but its cleanliness was unquestionable. Both he and Buck +had spent over two hours, earlier in the day, setting the place to +rights and preparing for their visitor. + +He shook his head as he viewed the primitive condition of the +furniture. It was all very, very home-made. There was not one seat he +felt to be suitable to offer to a lady. He was very dissatisfied. +Dissatisfied with it all, and particularly with Buck for bringing Joan +to this wretched mountain abode. It would have been far better had he +called at the farm. It even occurred to him now as curious that he had +never done so before. + +Yet perhaps it was not so curious after all. He had been attached to +the home which had sheltered him all those years, the home his own two +hands had built. Yes, it was different making a place, building it, +driving every nail oneself, setting up every fence post, turning every +clod of soil. It was different to purchasing it, ready-made, or hiring +labor. He had no desire to go near the farm again. That, like other +things, had passed out of his life forever. + +Three times he rearranged the room in the vain hope of giving it an +added appearance of comfort, but the task was hopeless. Finally, he +sat down and lit his pipe, smiling at his almost childish desire that +his home should find favor in the eyes of the girl Buck was bringing +to see him. + +Buck had told him very little. He had spoken of the visit, and hinted +at Joan's desire for advice. He had been very vague. But then that was +Buck's way in some things. It was not often that he had need to go +into reasons in his intercourse with his friend. Such a perfect +understanding had always existed between them that they were rarely +discoursive. He had told the Padre of the shooting, and explained the +apparent cause. He had also told him of the reception of the news in +the camp, and how a small section of the older inhabitants had adopted +an attitude of resentment against the innocent cause of it. He had +shown him that there was plainly no sympathy, or very little, for Joan +when the story was told. And to the elder man this was disquieting. +Buck had treated it with the contempt of youth, but the Padre had +detected in it a food for graver thought than he let the boy +understand. + +It would be time enough to break up Buck's confidence should any +trouble develop. In the meantime he had understood that there was +something like real necessity for him to see this girl. If she needed +any help then it was plainly his duty to give it her. And, besides, +there was another reason. Buck desired this interview. + +He smiled to himself as he thought of the turn events had taken with +Buck. He must have been blind indeed if he had not seen from the very +first the way things were going. The boy had fallen hopelessly in love +with the first girl with whom he had definitely been brought into +contact. And why not? Yes, he was rather anxious to see and talk with +this girl who had set the boy's heart on fire. + +Yet it seemed strange. Buck had never been anything but a boy to him. +He had never really grown up. He was still the small, pathetic figure +he had first encountered on the trail-side. And now here he was +hopelessly, madly in love with a girl. He would never forget the fire +of jealousy that had lain behind his words when Buck had told him that +Ike had forcibly kissed her. + +His thought lost its more sympathetic note, and he became grave. Love +had come into this youngster's life, and he wondered in what direction +it would influence it. He knew well enough, no one better, how much +damage love could do. He knew well enough the other, and right side of +the picture. But Buck was an unusual experiment. Even to him, who knew +the boy so well, he was still something of a problem in many ways. One +thing was certain. He would get the trouble badly, and time alone +could show what ravages and complications might be forthcoming. + +He rose from his chair and knocked out his pipe. Then, in smiling +dismay, he sniffed the air. He had done the very thing he had meant to +avoid. He shook his white head, and opened wide both the window and +the door in the hope that the fresh mountain air would sweeten the +atmosphere before the girl's arrival. + +But his hopes were quickly dashed. As he took up his position in the +doorway, prepared to extend her the heartiest greeting, he heard the +clatter of hoofs on the trail, and the man and the girl rode into the +stockade. + +Buck had departed to perform his usual evening tasks. He had gone to +water and feed the horses, to "buck" cord-wood for the stove, and to +draw the water for their household purposes. He was full early with +his work, but he was anxious that the Padre and Joan should remain +undisturbed. Such was his faith in the Padre that he felt that on this +visit depended much of the girl's future peace of mind. + +Now the white-haired man and the girl were alone--alone with the ruddy +westering sun pouring in through window and door, in an almost +horizontal shaft of gracious light. Joan was sitting bending over the +cook-stove, her feet resting on the rack at the foot of the oven, her +hands outstretched to the warming glow of the fire. The evenings in +the hills, even in the height of summer, were never without a nip of +cold which drifted down from the dour, ages-old glaciers crowning the +distant peaks. She was talking, gazing into the glowing coals. She was +piecing out her story as it had been told her by her Aunt Mercy, +feeling that only with a full knowledge of it could this wise old +white-haired friend of Buck's understand and help her. + +The Padre was sitting close under the window. His back was turned to +it, so that his face was almost lost in the shadow. And it was as +well. As the story proceeded, as incident after incident was unfolded, +the man's face became gray with unspeakable emotion, and from robust +middle age he jumped to an old, old man. + +But Joan saw none of this. Never once did she turn her eyes in his +direction. She was lost in painful recollections of the hideous things +with which she seemed to be surrounded. She told him of her birth, +those strange circumstances which her aunt had told her of, and which +now, in her own cold words, sounded so like a fairy tale. She told him +of her father and her father's friend, the man who had always been his +evil genius. She told him of her father's sudden good fortune, and of +the swift-following disaster. She told him of his dreadful death at +the hands of his friend. Then she went on, mechanically reciting the +extraordinary events which had occurred to her--how, in each case +where men sought her regard and love, disaster had followed hard upon +their heels; how she had finally fled before the disaster which dogged +her; how she had come here, here where she thought she might be free +from associations so painful, only to find that escape was impossible. + +"I need not tell you what has happened since I came," she finished up +dully. "You know it all. They say I brought them their luck. Luck? Was +there ever such luck? First my coming cost a man's life, and now--now +Ike and Pete. What is to follow?" + +The Padre had not once interrupted her in her long story, and, even +now, as the last sound of her voice died out, it was some moments +before he spoke. + +The fire in the grate rustled and the cinders shook down. + +It was then that the girl stirred as though suddenly made aware of the +silence. Immediately the man's voice, cold--almost harsh, in contrast +to his usual tone, startled her. + +"'Rest' is not your name," he said. "You have changed your name--to +further aid your escape from----" + +"How do you know that?" Then the girl went on, wondering at the man's +quickness of understanding. "I had not intended telling you. But it +doesn't matter. Nothing seems to matter. Evidently my disguise is +useless with you. No, my name is not Rest. My father was Charles +Stanmore." + +The man made no reply. He did not move. His keen eyes were on the +red-gold hair so neatly coiled about the girl's head. His lips were +compressed, and a deep frown had disturbed the usual serenity of his +broad brow. + +For a moment Joan bowed her head, and her hands clasped tightly as +they were held toward the fire. Presently her voice sounded again. It +began low, held under a forced calm. + +"Is there no hope?" she implored him. "Buck said you could help me. +What have I done that these things should curse my life? I only want +peace--just a little peace. I am content to live and die just as I am. +I desire nothing more than to be left--alone." + +"Who told you--all this?" The Padre's voice had no sympathy. + +"My aunt. Aunt Mercy." + +"You were--happy before she told you?" + +"Yes." + +"Why did she tell you?" + +"I don't know. At least--yes, she told me so as to warn me. So that I +might avoid bringing disaster upon those whom I had no desire to +hurt." + +The Padre rose from his seat and crossed to where the girl was +sitting. He stood for a moment just behind her chair. Then, very +gently, he laid one sunburnt hand upon her shoulder. + +"Little girl," he said, with a wonderful kindliness that started the +long-threatened tears to the girl's eyes, "you've got a peck of +trouble inside that golden head of yours. But it's all in there. +There's none of it outside. Look back over all those things you've +told me. Every one of them. Just show me where your hand in them lies. +There is not a disaster that you have mentioned but what possesses its +perfectly logical, natural cause. There is not one that has not been +duplicated, triplicated, ah! dozens and dozens of times since this +quaint old world of ours began. You believe it is due to your +influence because a silly old woman catches you in an overwrought +moment and tells you so. She has implanted a parasite in your little +head that has stuck there and grown out of all proportion. Believe me, +child, you cannot influence the destinies of men. You have no say in +the matter. As we are made, so we must work out our own salvation. It +has been your lot to witness many disasters, but had these things +occurred with other girls as the central figure, would you have +attributed this hideous curse to their lives? Would you? Never. But +you readily attribute it to your own. I am an old man my dear; older +to-day, perhaps, by far than my years call for. I have seen so much of +misery and trouble that sometimes I have thought that all life is just +one long sea of disaster. But it isn't--unless we choose to make it +so. You are rapidly making yours such. You are naturally generous, and +kind, and sympathetic. These things you have allowed to develop in you +until they have become something approaching disease. Vampires sucking +out all your nervous strength. Abandon these things for a while. Live +the life the good God gave you. Enjoy your living moments as you were +intended to enjoy them. And be thankful that the sun rises each +morning, and that you can rise up from your bed refreshed and ready +for the full play of heart, and mind, and limbs. Disasters will go on +about you as they go on about me, and about us all. But they do not +belong to us. That is just life. That is just the world and its +scheme. There are lessons in all these things for us to learn--lessons +for the purification of our hearts, and not diseases for our silly, +weak brains. Now, little girl, I want you to promise that you will +endeavor to do as I say. Live a wholesome, healthy life. Enjoy all +that it is given you to enjoy. Where good can be done, do it. Where +evil lies, shun it. Forget all this that lies behind you, and--Live! +Evil is merely the absence of Good. Life is all Good. If we deny that +good, then there is Evil. Live your life with all its blessings, and +your God will bless _you_. This is your duty to yourself; to your +fellows; to life; to your God." + +Joan had risen from her seat. Her face was alight with a hope that had +not been there for many days. The man's words had taken hold of her. +Her troubled mind could not withstand them. He had inspired her with a +feeling of security she had not known for weeks. Her tears were no +longer tears of despair. They were tears of thankfulness and hope. But +when she spoke her words seemed utterly bald and meaningless to +express the wave of gratitude that flooded her heart. + +"I will; I will," she cried with glistening eyes. "Oh, Padre!" she +went on, with happy impulse, "you don't know what you've done for +me--you don't know----" + +"Then, child, do something for me." The man was smiling gravely down +into the bright, upturned face. "You must not live alone down there at +the farm. It is not good in a child so young as you. Get some +relative to come and share your home with you." + +"But I have no one--except my Aunt Mercy." + +"Ah!" + +"You see she is my only relative. But--but I think she would come if I +asked her." + +"Then ask her." + + * * * * * + +The Padre was sitting in the chair that Joan had occupied. He too was +bending over the stove with his hands outstretched to the warming +blaze. Perhaps he too was feeling the nip of the mountain air. Feeling +it more than usual to-night. Buck was sitting on the edge of the table +close by. He had just returned from taking Joan back to the farm. + +The young man's journey home had been made in a condition of mental +exhilaration which left him quite unconscious of all time and +distance. The change wrought in Joan had been magical, and Cæsar, for +once in his life, felt the sharp spur of impatience in the man's eager +desire to reach his friend and speak something of the gratitude he +felt. + +But habit was strong upon Buck, and his gratitude found no outlet in +words when the moment came. Far from it. On his arrival he found the +Padre sitting at their fireside without even the most ordinary welcome +on his lips. A matter so unusual that it found Buck dumb, waiting for +the lead to come, as he knew it inevitably would, in the Padre's own +good time. + +It took longer than he expected, however, and it was not until he had +prepared their frugal supper that the elder man stirred from his moody +contemplation of the fire. + +He looked up, and a smile struggled painfully into his eyes. + +"Hungry, Buck?" he inquired. + +"So!" + +"Ah! then sit right down here, boy, an' light your pipe. There's +things I want to say--first." + +"Get right ahead." Buck drew up a chair, and obediently filled and lit +his pipe. + +"Life's pretty twisted," the Padre began, his steady gray eyes smiling +contemplatively. "So twisted, it makes you wonder some. That girl's +happier now, because I told her there were no such things as cusses. +Yes, it's all queer." + +He reached out and helped himself from Buck's tobacco pouch. Then he, +too, filled and lit his pipe. + +"You've never asked me why I live out here," he went on presently. +"Never since I've known you. Once or twice I've seen the question in +your eyes, but--it never stayed there long. You don't ask many +questions, do you, Buck?" + +The Padre puffed slowly at his pipe. His manner was that of a man +looking back upon matters which had suddenly acquired an added +interest for him. Yet the talk he desired to have with this youngster +inspired an ill-flavor. + +"If folks want to answer questions ther' ain't no need to ask 'em." +Buck's philosophy interested the other, and he nodded. + +"Just so. That's how it is with me--now. I want to tell you--what +you've never asked. You'll see the reason presently." + +Buck waited. His whole manner suggested indifference. Yet there was a +thoughtful look in his dark eyes. + +"That girl," the Padre went on, his gaze returning to a contemplation +of the fire. "She's put me in mind of something. She's reminded me how +full of twists and cranks life is. She's full of good. Full of good +thoughts and ideals. Yet life seems to take a delight in impressing +her with a burden so unwholesome as to come very nearly undoing all +the good it has endowed her with. It seems queer. It seems devilish +hard. But I generally notice the harder folk try in this world the +heavier the cross they have to carry. Maybe it's the law of fitness. +Maybe folks must bear a burden at their full capacity so that the +result may be a greater refining. I've thought a lot lately. Sometimes +I've thought it's better to sit around and--well, don't worry with +anything outside three meals a day. That's been in weak moments. You +see, we can't help our natures. If it's in us to do the best we +know--well, we're just going to do it, and--and hang the result." + +"H'm." Buck grunted and waited. + +"I was thinking of things around here," the other went on. "I was +wondering about the camp. It's a stinking hole now. It's full of +everything--rotten. Yet they think it's one huge success, and they +reckon we helped them to it." + +"How?" + +"Why, by feeding them when they were starving, and so making it +possible for them to hang on until Nature opened her treasure-house." + +Buck nodded. + +"I see." + +"All I see is--perhaps through our efforts--we've turned loose a hell +of drunkenness and debauchery upon earth. These people--perhaps +through our efforts--have been driven along the very path we would +rather have saved them from. The majority will end in disaster. Some +have already done so. But for our help this would not have been." + +"They'd jest have starved." + +"We should not have sold our farm, and Ike and Pete would have been +alive now." + +"In Ike's case it would have been a pity." + +The Padre smiled. He took Buck's protest for what it was worth. + +"Yes, life's pretty twisted. It's always been the same with me. +Wherever I've got busy trying to help those I had regard for I +generally managed to find my efforts working out with a result I never +reckoned on. That's why I am here." + +The Padre smoked on for some moments in silence. + +"I was hot-headed once," he went on presently. "I was so hot-headed +that I--I insulted the woman I loved. I insulted her beyond +forgiveness. You see, she didn't love me. She loved my greatest +friend. Still, that's another story. It's the friend I want to talk +about. He was a splendid fellow. A bright, impetuous gambler on the +New York Stock Exchange. We were both on Wall Street. I was a gambler +too. I was a lucky gambler, and he was an unlucky one. In spite of my +love for the woman, who loved him, it was my one great desire to help +him. My luck was such that I believed I could do it--my luck and my +conceit. You see, next to the woman I loved he was everything in the +world to me. Do you get that?" + +Buck nodded. + +"Well, in spite of all I could and did do, after a nice run of luck +which made me think his affairs had turned for the better, a spell of +the most terrible ill-luck set in. There was no checking it. He rode +headlong for a smash. I financed him time and again, nearly ruining +myself in my effort to save him. He took to drink badly. He grew +desperate in his gambling. In short, I saw he had given up all hope. +Again I did the best I could. I was always with him. My object was to +endeavor to keep him in check. In his drinking bouts I was with him, +and when he insisted on poker and other gambling I was there to take a +hand. If I hadn't done these things--well, others would have, but with +a different object. By a hundred devices I managed to minimize the bad +results of his wild, headstrong career. + +"Then the end came. Had I been less young, had I been less hopeful for +him, less wrapped up in him, I must have foreseen it. We were playing +cards in his apartments. His housekeeper and his baby girl were in a +distant room. They were in bed. You see, it was late at night. It was +the last hand. His luck had been diabolical, but the stakes were +comparatively low. I shall never forget the scene. His nerves were +completely shattered. He picked up his hand, glanced at it--we were +playing poker--jack pots--and flung it down. 'I'm done,' he cried, +and, kicking back his chair, rose from the table. He moved a pace away +as though to go to the side-table where the whisky and soda stood. I +thought he meant having a drink. His back was turned to me. The next +moment I heard shots. He seemed to stumble, swung round with a sort of +jerk, and fell face downward across the table. + +"I jumped to his assistance. But--he was dead. He had shot himself +through the heart and in the stomach. My horror? Well, it doesn't +matter now. I was utterly and completely unnerved. If I hadn't been +perhaps I should have acted differently. I should have called +his--housekeeper. I should have summoned the police--a doctor. But I +did none of these. My horror and grief were such that I--fled; fled +like the coward I was. Nor did I simply flee from the house. I left +everything, and fled from the city that night. It was not until some +days afterward that I realized what my going meant to me. You see, I +had left behind me, in his housekeeper, the woman I loved--and had +insulted past forgiveness. I was branded as his murderer. Do you see? +She loved him, and was his housekeeper. Oh, there was nothing wrong in +it! I knew that. His baby girl was the child of his dead wife. Several +times I thought of returning to establish my innocence, but somehow my +conduct and my story wouldn't have fitted in the eyes of a jury. +Besides, there was that insulted woman. She had accused me of the +murder. It was quite useless to go back. It meant throwing away my +life. It was not worth it. So I came here." + +Buck offered no comment for a long time. Comment seemed unnecessary. +The Padre watched him with eyes striving to conceal their anxiety. + +Finally, Buck put a question that seemed unnecessary. + +"Why d'you tell me now?" he asked. His pipe had gone out and he pushed +it into his hip-pocket. + +The Padre's smile was rather drawn. + +"Because of you. Because of my friend's--baby girl." + +"How?" + +"The child's name was Joan. Joan Rest is the daughter of Charles +Stanmore--the man I am accused of murdering. This afternoon I advised +her to have some one to live with her--a relative. She is sending for +the only one she has. It is her aunt, Stanmore's housekeeper--the +woman I insulted past forgiveness." + +Not for an instant did Buck's expression change. + +"Why did you advise--that?" he asked. + +The Padre's eyes suddenly lit with a subdued fire, and his answer came +with a passion such as Buck had never witnessed in him before. + +"Why? Why? Because you love this little Joan, daughter of my greatest +friend. Because I owe it to you--to her--to face my accusers and prove +my innocence." + +The two men looked long and earnestly into each other's eyes. Then the +Padre's voice, sharp and strident, sounded through the little room. + +"Well?" + +Buck rose from his seat. + +"Let's eat, Padre," he said calmly. "I'm mighty hungry." Then he came +a step nearer and gripped the elder man's hand. "I'm right with you, +when things--get busy." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +BEASLEY PLAYS THE GAME + + +Joan lost no time in carrying out the Padre's wishes. Such was her +changed mood, such was the strength of her new-born hope, such was the +wonderful healing his words had administered to her young mind, that, +for the time at least, her every cloud was dispersed, lost in a +perfect sheen of mental calm. + +The change occurred from the moment of her return home. So changed +indeed was she that her rough but faithful housekeeper, dull of +perception to all those things outside the narrow focus of her life in +domestic service, caught a faint glimpse of it without anything +approaching a proper understanding. She realized an added energy, +which seriously affected her own methods of performing her duties and +caused her to make a mental note that her young mistress was assuming +"airs" which did not fit in with her inexperience of those things +amidst which she, the farm-wife, had floundered all her life. She +heard her moving about the house, her joy and hope finding outlet in +song such as had never echoed through the place before. And promptly +she set this new phase down to the result of her associations with the +young "scallawag" Buck. She noted, too, an added care in her toilet, +and this inspired the portentous belief that she was "a-carryin' on" +with the same individual. But when it came to a general "turning-out" +of the living-rooms of the house, a matter which added an immense +amount of effort to her own daily duties, her protest found immediate +vent in no uncertain terms. + +It came while the midday dinner was in preparation. It rose to +boiling-point amidst the steam from her cooking pots. Finally it +bubbled over, much as might one of her own kettles. + +Joan was standing in the kitchen giving her orders preparatory to +departing to the camp, whither she was going to mail her letter to her +aunt at Beasley's store. + +"You see," she was saying, "I'll have to make some changes in the +house. I'm expecting my aunt from St. Ellis to come and stay with me. +She won't be able to do with the things which have been sufficient for +me. She will have my room. I shall buy new furniture for it. I shall +get Beasley to order it for me from Leeson Butte. Then I shall use the +little room next yours. And while we're making these changes we'll +have a general housecleaning. You might begin this afternoon on the +room I am going to move into." + +The old woman turned with a scarlet face. It may have been the result +of the heat of cooking. Then again it may have had other causes. + +"An' when, may I ast, do I make bricks?" she inquired with ponderous +sarcasm. + +Joan stood abashed for a moment. So unexpected was the retort, so much +was it at variance with her own mood that she had no answer ready, and +the other was left with the field to herself. + +"Now jest look right here, Miss Joan--ma'm," she cried, flourishing a +cooking spoon to point her words. "I ain't a woman of many words by no +means, as you might say, but what I sure says means what I mean, no +more an' no less, as the sayin' is. I've kep' house all my life, an' I +reckon ther's no female from St. Ellis ken show _me_. I've bin a wife +an' a mother, an' raised my offsprings till they died. I did fer a man +as knew wot's wot in my George D. An' if I suffered fer it, it was +jest because I know'd my duty an' did it, no matter the consequences +to me an' mine. I tell you right here, an' I'm a plain-spoken woman +who's honest, as the sayin' is, I turn out no house, nor room, nor +nothin' of an afternoon. I know my duty an' I do it. Ther's a chapter +of the Bible fer every day o' my life, an' it needs digestin' +good--with my dinner. An' I don't throw it up fer nobody." + +"But--but----" Joan began to protest, but the other brushed objection +aside with an added flourish of her spoon. + +"It ain't no use fer you to persuade, nor cajole, nor argify. What I +says goes fer jest so long as I'm willin' to accept your ter'ble +ordinary wages, which I say right here won't be fer a heap long time +if things don't change some. I'm a respectable woman an' wife that +was, but isn't, more's the pity, an' it ain't my way to chase around +the house a-screechin' at the top o' my voice jest as though I'd come +from a cirkis. You ain't got your mind on your work. You ain't got +your heart in it, singin' all over the house, like--like one o' them +brazen cirkis gals. No, nor wot with scallawags a-comin' around +sparkin' you, an' the boys shootin' theirselves dead over you, an' +folks in the camp a-callin' of you a Jony gal, I don't guess I'll need +to stay an' receive con--contamination, as you might say. That's how +I'm feelin'; an' bein' a plain woman, an' a 'specterble widow of +George D., who was a man every inch of him, mind you, if he had his +failin's, chasin' other folks' cattle, an' not readin' their brands +right, why, out it comes plump like a bad tooth you're mighty glad to +be rid of, as the sayin' is." + +The woman turned back to her cooking. Her manner was gravely +disapproving, and she had managed to convey a sting which somehow hurt +Joan far more than she was willing to admit. Her refusal to undertake +the added work was merely churlish and disconcerting, but those other +remarks raised a decided anger not untouched by a feeling of shame and +hurt. But Joan did not give way to any of these feelings in her reply. +She did the only dignified thing possible. + +"You need not wait until your dissatisfaction with me overwhelms you, +Mrs. Ransford," she said promptly. "I engaged you by the month, and I +shall be glad if you will leave me to-day month." Then she added with +a shadow of reproach: "Really, I thought you were made of better +stuff." + +But her attitude had a far different result to what she had expected. +She turned to go, preferring to avoid a further torrent of abuse from +the harsh old woman, when the spoon flourished in the air as the widow +of George D. swung round from her pots with an amazing alacrity. + +"You ain't chasin' me out, Miss Joan--ma'm?" she cried aghast, her +round eyes rolling in sudden distress. "Why, miss--ma'm, I never meant +no harm--that I didn't. Y' see I was jest sore hearin' them sayin' +things 'bout you in the camp, an' you a-singin' made me feel you +didn't care nuthin'. An' these scallawags a-comin' around a-sassin' +you, an' a-kissin' you, sort o' set my blood boilin'. No, miss--ma'm, +you ain't a-goin' to chase me out! You wouldn't now, would you?" she +appealed. "Jest say you won't, an' I'll have the house turned sheer +upside down 'fore you know wher' you are. There, jest think of it. You +may need some un to ke'p that scallawag Buck in his place. How you +goin' to set about him without me around? I ain't quittin' this day +month, am I, miss--ma'm?" + +The old woman's abject appeal was too much for Joan's soft heart, and +her smiling eyes swiftly told the waiting penitent that the sentence +was rescinded. Instantly the shadow was lifted from the troubled face. + +"It was your own fault, Mrs. Ransford," Joan said, struggling to +conceal her amusement. "However, if you want to stay----Well, I must +drive into the camp before dinner, and we'll see about the little room +when I return." + +"That we will, mum--miss. That we will," cried the farm-wife in +cordial relief as Joan hurried out of the room. + + * * * * * + +Joan drew up at Beasley's store just as that individual was preparing +to adjourn his labors for dinner. The man saw her coming from the door +of his newly-completed barn, and softly whistled to himself at the +sight of the slim, girlish figure sitting in the wagon behind the +heavy team of horses he had so long known as the Padre's. + +This was only the third time he had seen the girl abroad in the camp, +and he wondered at the object of her visit now. + +Whatever malice he bore her, and his malice was of a nature only to be +understood by his warped mind, his admiration was none the less for +it. Not a detail of her appearance escaped his quick, lustful eyes. +Her dainty white shirt-waist was covered by the lightest of dust +coats, and her pretty face was shadowed by a wide straw hat which +protected it from the sun's desperate rays. Her deeply-fringed eyes +shone out from the shade, and set the blood pulsing through the man's +veins. He saw the perfect oval of her fair face, with its ripe, full +lips and delicate, small nose, so perfect in shape, so regular in its +setting under her broad open brow. Her wonderful hair, that +ruddy-tinted mass of burnished gold which was her most striking +feature, made him suck in a whistling breath of sensual appreciation. +Without a moment's hesitation, hat in hand he went to meet her. + +As he came up his foxy eyes were alight with what he intended for a +grin of amiability. Whatever his peculiarly vindictive nature he was +more than ready to admit to himself the girl's charms. + +"Say, Miss Golden," he cried, purposely giving her the name the +popular voice had christened her, "it's real pleasant of you to get +around. Guess the camp's a mighty dull show without its lady citizens. +Maybe you'll step right up into my storeroom. I got a big line of new +goods in from Leeson. Y' see the saloon ain't for such as you," he +laughed. "Guess it does for the boys all right. I'm building a slap-up +store next--just dry goods an' notions. Things are booming right now. +They're booming so hard there's no keepin' pace. I'll tie your hosses +to this post." + +His manner was perfect in its amiability, but Joan detested it because +of the man. He could never disguise his personality, and Joan was +beginning to understand such personalities as his. + +"Thanks," she said coldly, as, taking advantage of his being occupied +with the horses, she jumped quickly from the vehicle. "I came to mail +a letter," she said, as she moved on up to the big barn which was +Beasley's temporary storehouse, "and to give you a rather large order +for furnishing and things." + +She produced a paper with her list of requirements, and handed it to +him. + +"You see, I'm refurnishing the farm," she went on, while the man +glanced an appreciative eye over the extensive order. "Can you do +those things?" she asked as he looked up from his perusal. + +"Why, yes. There's nothing difficult there. What we can't do here we +can send on to Leeson Butte for. I've got some elegant samples of +curtains just come along. Maybe you'll step inside?" + +In spite of her dislike of the man Joan had no hesitation in passing +into the storeroom. She had no desire in the world to miss the joy of +inspecting a fresh consignment of dry goods. She felt almost as +excited, and quite as much interested, as though she were visiting one +of the great stores in St. Ellis. + +In a few moments she was lost in a close inspection of the display. +Nor had she any thought, or wonder, that here in the wilderness, on +the banks of Yellow Creek, such things should already have found their +way. For a long time the keen man of business expended his arts of +persuasion upon her, and, by the time the girl had exhausted his +stock, he had netted a sound order. His satisfaction was very evident, +and now he was prepared to regard her rather as a woman than a +customer. + +"Makes you think some," he observed, with a wave of his hand in the +direction of the piled-up fabrics and unopened cases. Then he laughed +in a way that jarred upon the girl. "Ther's money to burn here. Money! +Whew!" Then his eyes became serious. "If it only lasts!" + +"Why shouldn't it?" asked Joan unsuspiciously. She had finished, and +was anxious to get away. But the man seemed to want to talk, and it +seemed churlish to deny him. + +Beasley shook his head, while his eyes devoured her appealing beauty. + +"It won't," he said decidedly. "It's too big--too rich. Besides----" + +"Besides what?" + +The man's eyes had lost their grin. They were the eyes of the real +man. + +"It's--devil's luck. I've said it all along. Only ther's sech plaguey +knowalls around they won't believe it. Buck now--I got nothing against +Buck. He's a good citizen. But he's got a streak o' yeller in him, an' +don't hold with no devil's luck. Maybe you remember." He grinned +unpleasantly into the girl's eyes. + +She remembered well enough. She was not likely to forget the manner in +which Buck had come to her help. She flushed slightly. + +"What do you mean by 'a streak of yellow'?" she demanded coldly. + +"It don't need a heap of explaining. He's soft on mission talk." + +Joan's flush deepened. This man had a mean way of putting things. + +"If you mean that he doesn't believe in--in superstitions, and that +sort of thing, if you mean he's just a straightforward, +honest-thinking man--well, I agree with you." + +Beasley was enjoying the spectacle of the warmth which prompted her +defense. She was devilish pretty, he admitted to himself. + +"Maybe you feel that way," he said, in a tone that jarred. "Say," he +went on shrewdly, "I'm no sucker, I'm not one of these slobs chasin' +gold they're eager to hand on to the first guy holdin' out his hand. +I'm out to make a pile. I had a claim in the ballot. Maybe it's a good +claim. I ain't troubled to see. Why? I'll tell you. Maybe I'd have +taken a few thousand dollars out of it. Maybe a heap. Maybe only a +little. Not good--with all these slobs around." He shook his head. "I +figured I'd git the lot if I traded. I'd get the show of _all_ of the +claims. See? The 'strike' ain't goin' to last. It's a pocket in the +hill, an' it'll peter out just as dead sure as--well as can be. An' +when it's petered out there's going to be jest one feller around here +who's made a profit--an' it ain't one of those who used the +sluice-boxes. No, you can believe what you like. This 'strike' was +jest a devil's laugh at folks who know no better. An' master Buck has +handed you something of devil's luck when he made you take that gold." + +There was something very keen about this man, and in another Joan +might have admired it; but Beasley's mind was tainted with such a +vicious meanness that admiration was impossible. + +"I don't believe it," said Joan staunchly. "Neither does Buck. He +would never willingly hand me the trouble you suggest." + +Her words were the result of an impetuous defense of the absent man. +To hear this man attack Buck was infuriating. But the moment she had +uttered them, the moment she had seen their effect, that meaning laugh +which they brought to the storekeeper's lips, she wished they had +never been spoken. + +"Don't guess Buck needs to scrap fer himself with you around, Miss +Golden," he laughed. "Gee! He's in luck. I wonder!" + +Joan choked back her swift-rising indignation. The man wasn't worth +it, she told herself, and hurriedly prepared to depart. But Beasley +had no intention of letting her go like that. + +"I wonder whether he is in luck, though," he went on quickly, in a +tone he knew the girl would not be able to resist. His estimate was +right. She made no further move to go. + +"How?" she asked. + +"Oh, nuthin' of consequence," he said aggravatingly. "I was just +thinking of the way folks are talking." Then he laughed right out; and +if Joan had only understood the man she would have known that his +merriment was but the precursor of something still more unpleasant. + +But such natures as his were quite foreign to her. She merely +instinctively disliked him. + +"What do you mean?" she asked unsuspiciously. + +Beasley was serious again, and wore an air of deprecation when he +answered her. + +"Oh!" he exclaimed, "'tain't nuthin'. Y' see folks are always most +ready to gas around. It's 'bout them two boys. They're hot about 'em. +Y' see Pete was a mighty popular feller, an' Ike had good friends. Y' +see they were always good spenders--an' most folks like good +spenders. But ther'--'tain't nuthin' that needs tellin' you. Guess +it'll only make a dandy gal like you feel mean." + +The man's purpose must have been evident to anybody less simple than +Joan. As it was she jumped at the bait so skilfully held out. + +"But you must tell me," she said, remembering Mrs. Ransford's remarks. +"I insist on knowing if it is anything concerning me." + +Beasley's air was perfect. His eyes were as frankly regretful as he +could make them. + +"Wal," he said, "it certainly does concern you--but I'd rather not say +it." + +"Go on." + +Joan's face was coldly haughty. + +"I wouldn't take it too mean," said Beasley warningly. "I sure +wouldn't. You see folks say a heap o' things that is trash. They guess +it's your doin' 'bout them boys. They reckon you played 'em one ag'in +t'other for their wads, an' both o' them ag'in--Buck. Y' see--mind I'm +jest tellin' you cos you asked--they guess you ast 'em both to supper +that evenin'. Pete said he was ast, an' Ike let on the same. You ast +'em both for the fun of the racket. An' you had Buck around to watch +the fun. Yes, they're pretty hot. An' you can't blame 'em, believin' +as they do. One of 'em--I forget who it rightly was--he called you the +camp Jonah. Said just as long as you wer' around ther'd be trouble. He +was all for askin' you to clear right out. He said more than that, but +I don't guess you need to know it all." + +"But I do need to know it all. I need to know all they said, and--who +said it." + +Joan's eyes were blazing. Beasley made no attempt to conceal his +satisfaction, and went on at once-- + +"Course I can't give you names. But the facts I don't guess I'm likely +to forget--they made me so riled. They said that farm of yours was +just a blind. It--it was--well, you'd come along here for all you +could get--an' that----" + +Joan cut him short. + +"That's enough," she cried. "You needn't tell me any more. I--I +understand. Oh, the brutal, heartless ruffians! Tell me. Who was it +said these things? I demand to know. I insist on the names. Oh!" + +The girl's exasperation was even greater than Beasley had hoped for. +He read, too, the shame and hurt underlying it, and his satisfaction +was intense. He felt that he was paying her off for some of the +obvious dislike she had always shown him, and it pleased him as it +always pleased him when his mischief went home. But now, having +achieved his end, he promptly set about wriggling clear of +consequences, which was ever his method. + +"I'd like to give you the names," he said frankly. "But I can't. You +see, when fellers are drunk they say things they don't mean, an' it +wouldn't be fair to give them away. I jest told you so you'd be on +your guard--just to tell you the folks are riled. But it ain't as bad +as it seems. I shut 'em up quick, feeling that no decent citizen could +stand an' hear a pretty gal slandered like that. An' I'll tell you +this, Miss Golden, you owe me something for the way I made 'em quit. +Still," he added, with a leer, "I don't need payment. You see, I was +just playin' the game." + +Joan was still furious. And somehow his wriggling did not ring true +even in her simple ears. + +"Then you won't tell me who it was?" she cried. + +Beasley shook his head. + +"Nuthin' doin'," he said facetiously. + +"Then you--you are a despicable coward," she cried. "You--oh!" And she +almost fled out of the hated creature's storeroom. + +Beasley looked after her. The satisfaction had gone from his eyes, +leaving them wholly vindictive. + +"Coward, am I, ma'm!" he muttered. Then he looked at the order for +furniture which was still in his hand. + +The sight of it made him laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +BUCK LAUGHS AT FATE + + +The telling of the Padre's story cost Buck a wakeful night. It was not +that he had any doubts either of the truth of the story, or of his +friend. He needed no evidence to convince him of either. Or rather, +such was his nature that no evidence could have broken his faith and +friendship. Strength and loyalty were the key-note of his whole life. +To him the Padre was little less than a god, in whom nothing could +shake his belief. He honored him above all men in the world, and, such +as it was, his own life, his strength, his every nerve, were at his +service. Moreover, it is probable that his loyalty would have been no +whit the less had the man pleaded guilty to the crime he was accused +of. + +No, it was not the story he had listened to which kept him wakeful. It +was not the rights or wrongs, or the significance of it, that inspired +his unrest. It was something of a far more personal note. + +It was the full awakening of a mind and heart to a true understanding +of themselves. And the manner of his awakening had been little short +of staggering. He loved, and his love had risen up before his eyes in +a manner the full meaning of which he had only just realized. It was +his friend who had brought about his awakening, his friend who had put +into brief words that which had been to him nothing but a delicious +dream. + +The man's words rang through his brain the night long. + +"Why? Why?" they said. "Because you love this little Joan, daughter of +my greatest friend. Because I owe it to you--to her, to face my +accusers and prove my innocence." + +That brief passionate declaration had changed the whole outlook of his +life. The old days, the old thoughts, the old unexpressed feelings and +hazy ambitions had gone--swept away in one wave of absorbing passion. +There was neither future nor past to him now. He lived in the thought +of this woman's delightful presence, and beyond that he could see +nothing. + +Vaguely he knew that much must lay before him. The past, well, that +was nothing. He understood that the drift of life's stream could no +longer carry him along without his own effort at guidance. He knew +that somewhere beyond this dream a great battle of Life lay waiting +for his participation. He felt that henceforth he was one of those +struggling units he had always regarded as outside his life. And all +because of this wonderful sunlight of love which shone deep into the +remotest cells of brain and heart. He felt strong for whatever lay +before him. This perfect sunshine, so harmonious with every feeling, +thrilled him with a virile longing to go out and proclaim his defiance +against the waiting hordes in Life's eternal battle. No road could be +so rough as to leave him shrinking, no fight so fierce that he was not +confident of victory, no trouble so great that it could not be borne +with perfect cheerfulness. As he had awakened to love so had he +awakened to life, yearning and eager. + +As the long night wore on his thought became clearer, more definite. +So that before his eyes closed at last in a broken slumber he came to +many decisions for the immediate future. The greatest, the most +momentous of these was that he must see Joan again without delay. He +tried to view this in perfect coolness, but though the decision +remained with him the fever of doubt and despair seized him, and he +became the victim of every fear known to the human lover's heart. To +him who had never known the meaning of fear his dread became tenfold +appalling. He must see her--and perhaps for the last time in his life. +This interview might well terminate once and for all every thought of +earthly happiness, and fling him back upon the meagre solace of a +wilderness, which now, without Joan, would be desolation indeed. + +Yet he knew that the chances must be faced now and at once. For +himself he would probably have delayed, rather basking in the sunshine +of uncertainty than risk witnessing the swift gathering clouds which +must rob him of all light forever. But he was not thinking only of +himself. There was that other, that white-haired, lonely man who had +said, "Because you love this little Joan." + +The wonderful unselfishness of the Padre had a greater power to stir +Buck's heart than any other appeal. His sacrifice must not be +permitted without a struggle. He knew the man, and he knew how useless +mere objection would be. Therefore his duty lay plain before him. Joan +must decide, and on her decision must his plans all be founded. He had +no reason to hope for a return of his love. On the contrary, it seemed +absurd even to hope, and in such an event then the Padre's sacrifice +would be unnecessary. If on the other hand--but he dared not let the +thought take shape. All he knew was that with Joan at his side no +power of law should touch one single white hair of the Padre's head, +while the breath of life remained in his body. + +It was a big thought in the midst of the most selfish of human +passions. It was a thought so wide, that, in every aspect, it spoke of +the great world which had been this man's lifelong study. It told of +sublime lessons well learned. Of a mind and heart as big, and broad, +and loyal as was the book from which the lessons had been studied. + +With the morning light came a further steadiness of decision. But with +it also came an added apprehension, and lack of mental peace. The +world was radiant about him with the wonder of his love, but his +horizon was lost in a mist of uncertainty and even dread. + +The morning dragged as such intervening hours ever drag, but at length +they were done with, and the momentous time arrived. Neither he nor +the Padre had referred again to their talk. That was their way. Nor +did any question pass between them until Cæsar stood saddled before +the door. + +The Padre was leaning against the door casing with his pipe in his +mouth. His steady eyes were gravely thoughtful. + +"Where you making this afternoon?" he inquired, as Buck swung into the +saddle. + +Buck nodded in the direction of Joan's home. + +"The farm." + +The Padre's eyes smiled kindly. + +"Good luck," he said. And Buck nodded his thanks as he rode away. + +But Buck's outward calm was studied. For once in his life his +confidence had utterly failed him. He rode over the trail in a dazed +condition which left him almost hopeless by the time he reached the +familiar corrals of the girl's home. As a consequence he reduced +Cæsar's pace to a walk with something almost childlike in his desire +to postpone what he now felt must be his farewell to the wonderful +dream that had been his. + +But even at a walk the journey must come to an end. In his case it +came all too soon for his peace of mind, and, to his added disquiet, +he found himself at the door of the old barn. Just for one moment he +hesitated. Then he lightly dropped to the ground. The next moment the +horse itself had taken the initiative. With none of its master's +scruples it clattered into the barn, and, walking straight into its +old familiar stall, commenced to search in the corners of the manger +for the sweet-scented hay usually awaiting it. + +The lead was irresistible to the man. He followed the creature in, +removed its bridle and loosened the cinchas of the saddle. Then he +went out in search of hay. + +His quest occupied several minutes. But finally he returned with an +ample armful and filled up the manger. Then came upon him a further +avalanche of doubt, and he stood beside his horse, stupidly smoothing +the beautiful creature's warm, velvet neck while it nuzzled its +fodder. + +"Why--is that you, Buck?" + +The exclamation startled the man out of his reverie and set his pulses +hammering madly. He turned to behold Joan framed in the doorway. For a +moment he stared stupidly at her, his dark eyes almost fearful. Then +his answer came quietly, distinctly, and without a tremor to betray +the feelings which really stirred him. + +"It surely is," he said. Then he added, "I didn't know I was coming +along when you were up at the fort yesterday." + +But Joan was thinking only how glad she was of his coming. His +explanation did not matter in the least. She had been home from the +camp something over an hour, and had seen some one ride up to the barn +without recognizing Buck or the familiar Cæsar. So she had hastened to +investigate. Something of her gladness at sight of him was in the +manner of her greeting now, and Buck's despondency began to fall from +him as he realized her unfeigned pleasure. + +"I'm so glad you came," Joan went on impulsively. "So glad, so glad. +I've been in camp to order things for--for my aunt's coming. You know +your Padre told me to send for her. I mailed the letter this morning." + +"You--sent for your aunt?" + +In a moment the whole hideous position of the Padre came upon him, +smothering all his own personal feelings, all his pleasure, all his +doubts and fears. + +"Why--yes." Joan's eyes opened wide in alarm. "Have I done wrong? He +said, send for her." + +Buck shook his head and moved out of the stall. + +"You sure done dead right. The Padre said it." + +"Then what was the meaning in your--what you said?" + +Buck smiled. + +"Nothing--just nothing." + +Joan eyed him a moment in some doubt. Then she passed the matter over, +and again the pleasure at his coming shone forth. + +"Oh, Buck," she cried, "there are some mean people in the world. I've +been talking to that horror, Beasley. He is a horror, isn't he? He's +been telling me something of the talk of the camp. He's been telling +me how--how popular I am," she finished up with a mirthless laugh. + +"Popular? I--I don't get you." + +Buck's whole expression had changed at the mention of Beasley's name. +Joan had no reason to inquire his opinion of the storekeeper. + +"You wouldn't," she hastened on. "You could never understand such +wicked meanness as that man is capable of. I'm sure he hates me, and +only told me these--these things to make me miserable. And I was +feeling so happy, too, after seeing your Padre," she added +regretfully. + +"An' what are the things he's been sayin'?" + +Buck's jaws were set. + +"Oh, I can't tell you what he said, except--except that the men think +I'm responsible for the death of those two. The other things were too +awful. It seems I'm--I'm the talk of the camp in--in an awful way. He +says they hate me. But I believe it's simply him. You see, he's tried +to--to ingratiate himself with me--oh, it's some time back, and +I--well, I never could stand him, after that time when the boys gave +me the gold. I wish they had never given me that gold. He still +persists it's unlucky, and I--I'm beginning to think so, too." + +"Did he--insult you?" Buck asked sharply, ignoring the rest. + +Joan looked quickly into the man's hot eyes, and in that moment +realized the necessity for prudence. The fierce spirit was shining +there. That only partly tamed spirit, which made her so glad when she +thought of it. + +"Oh, no," she said. "It wasn't that he insulted me. No--no. Don't +think that. Only he went out of his way to tell me these things, to +make me miserable. I was angry then, but I've got over it now. It--it +doesn't matter. You see I just told you because--because----" + +"If that man insulted you, I'd--kill him!" + +Buck had drawn nearer to her. His tall figure was leaning forward, and +his eyes, so fiercely alight, burned down into hers in a manner that +half frightened her, yet carried with it a feeling that thrilled her +heart with an almost painful delight. There was something so magnetic +in this man's outburst, something so sweeping to her responsive +nature. It was almost as though he had taken her in his two strong +hands and made her yield obedience to his dominating will. It gave her +a strange and wonderful confidence. It made her feel as if this power +of his must possess the same convincing strength for the rest of the +world. That he must sway all who came into contact with him. Her +gladness at his visit increased. It was good to feel that he was near +at hand. + +But her woman's mind sought to restrain him. + +"Please--please don't talk like that," she said, in a tone that +carried no real conviction. "No, Beasley would not dare insult me--for +himself." + +The girl drew back to the oat-box, and seated herself. Buck's moment +of passion had brought a deep flush to his cheeks, and his dark eyes +moved restlessly. + +"Why did you tell me?" + +There was no escaping the swift directness of this man's mind. His +question came with little less force than had been his threat against +Beasley. He was still lashed by his thought of the wretched +saloon-keeper. + +But Joan had no answer ready. Why had she told him? She knew. She knew +in a vague sort of way. She had told him because she had been sure of +his sympathy. She had told him because she knew his strength, and to +lean on that always helped her. Without questioning herself, or her +feelings, she had come to rely upon him in all things. + +But his sharp interrogation had given her pause. She repeated his +question to herself, and somehow found herself avoiding his gaze. +Somehow she could give him no answer. + +Buck chafed for a moment in desperate silence. He turned his hot eyes +toward the door, and stared out at the distant hills. Cæsar rattled +his collar chain, and scattered the hay in his search for the choicest +morsels. The heavy draft horses were slumbering where they stood. +Presently the man's eyes came back to the girl, devouring the beauty +of her still averted face. + +"Say," he went on presently, "you never felt so that your head would +burst, so that the only thing worth while doin' would be to kill some +one?" He smiled. "That's how I feel, when I know Beasley's been +talkin' to you." + +Joan turned to him with a responsive smile. She was glad he was +talking again. A strange discomfort, a nervousness not altogether +unpleasant had somehow taken hold of her, and the sound of his voice +relieved her. + +She shook her head. + +"No," she said frankly. "I--don't think I ever feel that way. But I +don't like Beasley." + +Buck's heat had passed. He laughed. + +"That was sure a fool question to ask," he said. "Say, it 'ud be like +askin' a dove to get busy with a gun." + +"I've heard doves are by no means the gentle creatures popular belief +would have them." + +"Guess ther's doves--an' doves," Buck said enigmatically. "I can't +jest see you bustin' to hurt a fly." + +"Not even Beasley?" + +Joan laughed slily. + +But Buck ignored the challenge. He stirred restlessly. He thrust his +fingers into the side pockets of the waist-coat he wore hanging open. +He withdrew them, and shifted his feet. Then, with a sudden, impatient +movement, he thrust his slouch hat back from his forehead. + +"Guess I can't say these things right," he gulped out with a swift, +impulsive rush. "What I want to say is that's how I feel when anything +happens amiss your way. I want to say it don't matter if it's Beasley, +or--or jest things that can't be helped. I want to get around and set +'em right for you----" + +Joan's eyes were startled. A sudden pallor had replaced the smile on +her lips, and drained the rich, warm color from her cheeks. + +"You've always done those things for me, Buck," she interrupted him +hastily. "You've been the kindest--the best----" + +"Don't say those things," Buck broke in with a hardly restrained +passion. "It hurts to hear 'em. Kindest? Best? Say, when a man feels +same as me, words like them hurt, hurt right in through here," he +tapped his chest with an awkward gesture. "They drive a man nigh +crazy. A man don't want to hear them from the woman he loves. Yes, +loves!" + +The man's dark eyes were burning, and as the girl rose from her seat +he reached out one brown hand to detain her. But his gesture was +needless. She made no move to go. She stood before him, her proud +young face now flushing, now pale with emotion, her wonderful eyes +veiled lest he should read in their depths feelings that she was +struggling to conceal. Her rounded bosom rose and fell with the +furious beatings of a heart she could not still. + +"No, no," the man rushed on, "you got to hear me, if it makes you hate +me fer the rest of your life. I'm nothing but jest a plain feller +who's lived all his life in this back country. I've got no education, +nothin' but jest what I am--here. An' I love you, I love you like +nothing else in all the world. Say," he went on, the first hot rush of +his words checking, "I bin gropin' around these hills learning all +that's bin set there for me to learn. I tried to learn my lessons +right. I done my best. But this one thing they couldn't teach me. +Something which I guess most every feller's got to learn some time. +An' you've taught me that. + +"Say." The restraint lost its power, and the man's great passion swept +him on in a swift torrent. "I never knew a gal since I was raised. I +never knew how she could git right hold of your heart, an' make the +rest of the world seem nothing. I never knew how jest one woman could +set the sun shining when her blue eyes smiled, and the storm of +thunder crowding over, when those eyes were full of tears. I never +dreamed how she could get around in fancy, and walk by your side +smilin' and talkin' to you when you wandered over these lonesome hills +at your work. I never knew how she could come along an' raise you up +when you're down, an' most everything looks black. I've learned these +things now. I've learned 'em because you taught me." + +He laughed with a sort of defiance at what he felt must sound +ridiculous in her ears. "You asked me to teach you! Me teach you! Say, +it's you taught me--everything. It's you taught me life ain't just a +day's work an' a night's sleep. It's you taught me that life's a +wonderful, wonderful dream of joy an' delight. It's you taught me the +sun's shining just for _me_ alone, an' every breath of these mountains +is just to make _me_ feel good. It's you taught me to feel there's +nothing on God's earth I couldn't and wouldn't do to make you happy. +You, who taught me to Live! You, with your wonderful blue eyes, an' +your beautiful, beautiful face. You, with your mind as white an' pure +as the mountain snow, an' your heart as precious as the gold our folks +are forever chasin'. I love you, Joan. I love you, every moment I +live. I love you so my two hands ain't enough by a hundred to get +helping you. I love you better than all the world. You're jest--jest +my whole life!" + +He stood with his arms outstretched toward the shrinking girl. His +whole body was shaking with the passion that had sent his words +pouring in a tide of unthought, unconsidered appeal. He had no +understanding of whither his words had carried him. All he knew was +that he loved this girl with his whole soul and body. That she could +love him in return was something unbelievable, yet he must tell her. +He must tell her all that was in his simple heart. + +He waited. It seemed ages, but in reality it was only moments. + +Presently Joan looked up. She raised her eyes timidly, and in a moment +Buck saw that they were filled with unshed tears. He started forward, +but she shrank back farther. But it was not with repugnance. Her +movement was almost reluctant, yet it was decided. It was sufficient +for the man, and slowly, hopelessly he dropped his arms to his sides +as the girl's voice so full of distress at last broke the silence. + +"Oh, Buck, Buck, why--oh, why have you said these things to me? You +don't know what you have done. Oh, it was cruel of you." + +"Cruel?" Buck started. The color faded from his cheeks. "Me cruel--to +you?" + +"Yes, yes. Don't you understand? Can't you see? Now--now there is +nothing left but--disaster. Oh, to think that I should have brought +this upon you--you of all men!" + +Buck's eyes suddenly lit. Unversed as he was in all such matters, he +was not blind to the feeling underlying her words. But the light +swiftly died from his eyes as he beheld the great tears roll slowly +down the girl's fair cheeks, and her face droop forward into her +hands. + +In a moment all restraint was banished in the uprising of his great +love. Without a thought of consequences he bridged the intervening +space at one step, and, in an instant, his arms were about the slim, +yielding figure he so tenderly loved. In a moment his voice, low, +tender, yet wonderful in its consoling strength, was encouraging her. + +"Disaster?" he said. "Disaster because I love you? Where? How? Say, +there's no disaster in my love for you. There can't be. All I ask, all +I need is jest to make your path--easier. Your troubles ain't yours +any longer. They sure ain't. They're mine, now, if you'll jest hand +'em to me. Disaster? No, no, little gal. Don't you to cry. Don't. Your +eyes weren't made for cryin'. They're jest given you to be a man's +hope. For you to see just how much love he's got for you." + +Joan submitted to his embrace for just so long as he was speaking. +Then she looked up with terrified eyes and released herself. + +"No, no, Buck. I must not listen. I dare not. It is my fate. My +terrible fate. You don't understand. Beasley was right. I _was_ +responsible for Ike's death. For Pete's death. But not in the way he +meant. It is my curse. They loved me, and--disaster followed +instantly. Can't you see? Can't you see? Oh, my dear, can't you see +that this same disaster must dog you--now?" + +Buck stared. Then he gathered himself together. + +"Your fate?" + +"Yes, yes. I am cursed. Oh," Joan suddenly gave a shrill laugh that +was painful to hear. "Every man that has ever told me--what you have +told me--has met with disaster, and--death." + +For one second no sound broke the stillness of the barn but the +restless movements of Cæsar. Then, suddenly, a laugh, a clear, buoyant +laugh, full of defiance, full of incredulity, rang through the +building. + +It was Buck. He moved forward, and in a moment the girl was lying +close upon his breast. + +"Is that the reason you mustn't, daren't, listen to me?" he cried, in +a voice thrilling with hope and confidence. "Is that the only reason? +Jest because of death an' disaster to me? Jest that, an'--nothing +more? Tell me, little gal. Tell me or--or I'll go mad." + +"Yes, yes. But oh, you don't----" + +"Yes, I do. Say, Joan, my little, little gal. Tell me. Tell me right +now. You ain't--hatin' me for--for loving you so bad. Tell me." + +Joan hid her face, and the tall man had to bend low to catch her +words. + +"I couldn't hate you, Buck. I--I----" + +But Buck heard no more. He almost forcibly lifted the beautiful, +tearful face to his, as he bent and smothered it with kisses. + +After a few moments he stood her away from him, holding her slight +shoulders, one in each hand. His dark eyes were glowing with a wild +happiness, a wonderful, reckless fire, as he peered into her blushing +face. + +"You love me, little gal? You love me? Was ther' ever such a thought +in the mind of sane man? You love me? The great big God's been mighty +good to me. Disaster? Death? Let all the powers of man or devil come +along, an' I'll drive 'em back to the hell they belong to." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +IRONY + + +The hills roll away, banking on every side, mounting up, pile on pile, +like the mighty waves of a storm-swept ocean. The darkening splendor, +the magnificent ruggedness crowds down upon the narrow open places +with a strange sense of oppression, almost of desolation. It seems as +if nothing on earth could ever be so great as that magnificent world, +nothing could ever be so small as the life which peoples it. + +The oppression, the desolation grows. The silent shadows of the +endless woods crowd with a suggestion of horrors untold, of mysteries +too profound to be even guessed at. A strange feeling as of a reign of +enchantment pervading sets the flesh of the superstitious creeping. +And the narrow, patchy sunlight, by its brilliant contrast, only +serves to aggravate the sensitive nerves. + +Yet in the woods lurk few enough dangers. It is only their dark +stillness. They are still, still in the calm of the brightest day, or +in the chill of a windless night. A timid bear, a wolf who spends its +desolate life in dismal protest against a solitary fate, the crashing +rush of a startled caribou, the deliberate bellow of a bull moose, +strayed far south from its northern fastnesses. These are the harmless +creatures peopling the obscure recesses. For the rest, they are the +weird suggestions of a sensitive imagination. + +The awe, however, is undeniable and the mind of man can never wholly +escape it. Familiarity may temper, but inborn human superstition is +indestructible. The brooding silence will shadow the lightest nature. +The storms must ever inspire wonder. The gloom hushes the voice. And +so the growing dread. Man may curse the hills in his brutal moments, +the thoughtful may be driven to despair, the laughter-loving may seek +solace in tears of depression. But the fascination clings. There is no +escape. The cloy of the seductive drug holds to that world of mystery, +and they come to it again, and yet again. + +Something of all this was vaguely drifting through the mind of one of +the occupants of a four-horsed, two-wheeled spring cart as it rose +upon the monstrous shoulder of one of the greater hills. Before it lay +a view of a dark and wild descent, sloping away unto the very bowels +of a pit of gloom. The trail was vague and bush-grown, and crowding +trees dangerously narrowed it. To the right the hill fell sharply away +at the edge of the track, an abyss that might well have been +bottomless for aught that could be seen from above. To the left the +crown of the hill rose sheer and barren, and only at its foot grew the +vegetation that so perilously narrowed the track. Then, ahead, where +the trail vanished, a misty hollow, dark and deep--the narrowing walls +of a black canyon. + +The blue eyes of the teamster were troubled. Was there ever such a +country for white man to travel? His horses were jaded. Their lean +sides were tuckered. Gray streaks of sweat scored them from shoulder +to flank. + +The man lolled heavily in his driving seat in the manner of the +prairie teamster. He knew there was trouble ahead, but it was +practically all he did know of the journey before him. + +As the cart topped the rise he bestirred himself. His whip flicked the +air without touching the horses, and he chirrupped encouragingly. The +weary but willing creatures raised their drooping heads, their ribs +expanded as they drew their "tugs" taut, and, at a slow, shuffling +trot, they began the descent. + +A voice from behind caused the man to glance swiftly over his +shoulder. + +"It's no use asking you where we are now, I suppose?" it said in a +peevish tone. + +But the teamster's mood was its match. + +"Not a heap, I guess, ma'm," he retorted, and gave up his attention to +avoiding the precipice on his right. + +"How far is the place supposed to be?" + +The woman's unease was very evident. Her eyes were upon the darkening +walls of the canyon toward which they were traveling. + +"Eighty miles from Crowsfoot. That's how the boss said, anyways." + +"How far have we come now?" + +The man laughed. There seemed to be something humorous in his +passenger's inquiries. + +"Crowsfoot to Snarth's farm, thirty-five miles, good. Snarth's to +Rattler Head, thirty. Sixty-five. Fifteen into this precious camp on +Yellow Creek. Guess we bin comin' along good since sun-up, an' now +it's noon. Countin' our stop fer breakfast we ought to make thirty odd +miles. Guess we come a good hundred." He laughed again. + +The woman gave an exclamation of impatience and vexation. + +"I think your employer ought to be ashamed of himself sending you to +do the journey. You don't know where you are, or what direction we're +going in. The horses are nearly foundered, and we may be miles and +miles from our destination. What are you going to do?" + +"Ke'p goin' jest as long as the hosses ken ke'p foot to the ground. +Guess we'll ease 'em at the bottom, here. It's nigh feed time. Say, +ma'm, it ain't no use worritin'. We'll git som'eres sure. The sun's +dead ahead." + +"What's the use of that?" Mercy Lascelles snapped at the man's easy +acceptance of the situation. "I wish now I'd come by Leeson Butte." + +"That's sure how the boss said," retorted the man. "The Leeson trail +is the right one. It's a good trail, an' I know most every inch of it. +You was set comin' round through the hills. Guessed you'd had enough +prairie on the railroad. It's up to you. Howsum, we'll make somewheres +by nightfall. Seems to me I got a notion o' that hill, yonder. That +one, out there," he went on, pointing with his whip at a bald, black +cone rising in the distance against the sky. "That kind o' seems like +the peak o' Devil's Hill. I ain't jest sure, but it seems like." + +Mercy looked in the direction. Her eyes were more angry than anxious, +yet anxiety was her principal feeling. + +"I hope to goodness it is. Devil's Hill. A nice name. That's where the +camp is, isn't it? I wish you'd hurry on." + +The teamster spat over the dashboard. A grim smile crept into his +eyes. His passenger had worried him with troublesome questions all +the journey, and he had long since given up cursing his boss for +sending him on the job. + +"'Tain't no use," he said shortly. Then he explained. "Y' see, it 'ud +be easy droppin' over the side of this. Guess you ain't yearnin' fer +glory that way?" + +"We'll never get in at this pace," the woman cried impatiently. + +But the teamster was losing patience, too. Suddenly he became very +polite, and his pale blue eyes smiled mischievously down upon his +horses' backs. + +"Guess we don't need to hurry a heap, ma'm," he said. "Y' see, in +these hills you never can tell. Now we're headin' fer that yer canyon. +Maybe the trail ends right ther'." + +"Good gracious, man, then what are we going to do?" + +"Do? Why, y' see, ma'm, we'll have to break a fresh trail--if that +dogone holler ain't one o' them bottomless muskegs," he added +thoughtfully. + +He flicked his whip and spat again. His passenger's voice rose to a +sharp staccato. + +"Then for goodness' sake why go on?" she demanded. + +"Wal, y' see, you can't never tell till you get ther' in these hills. +Maybe that canyon is a river, an' if so the entrance to it's nigh sure +a muskeg. A bottomless muskeg. You seen 'em, ain't you? No? Wal, +they're swamps, an' if we get into one, why, I guess ther's jest Hail +Columby, or some other fool thing waitin' for us at the bottom. Still +ther' mayn't be no muskeg. As I sez, you never can tell, tho' ther' +most gener'ly is. Mebbe that's jest a blank wall without no trail. +Mebbe this trail ends at a sheer drop of a few hundred feet an' more. +Mebbe agin the trail peters out 'fore we get ther'. That's the way in +these yer hills, ma'm; you never can tell if you get lost. An' gittin' +lost is so mighty easy. Course we ain't likely to starve till we've +eat up these yer dogone ol' hosses. Never eaten hoss? No? 'Tain't so +bad. Course water's easy, if you don't light on one o' them fever +swamps. Mountain fever's pretty bad. Still, I don't guess we'll git +worried that way, ma'm. I'd sure say you're pretty tough fer mountain +fever to git a holt of. It's the time that's the wust. It might take +us weeks gittin' out,--once you git lost proper. But even so I don't +guess ther's nothin' wuss than timber wolves to worry us. They're +mean. Y' see they're nigh allus starvin'--or guess they are. B'ars +don't count a heap, less you kind o' run into 'em at breedin' season. +Le's see, this is August. No, 'tain't breedin' season." He sighed as +if relieved. Then he stirred quickly and glanced round, his face +perfectly serious. "Guess you got a gun? It's allus good to hev a gun +round. You never ken tell in these yer hills--when you git lost +proper." + +"Oh, you're a perfect fool. Go on with your driving." Mercy sat back +in her seat fuming, while the teamster sighed, gently smiling down at +his horses. + +"Mebbe you're right, ma'm," he said amiably. "These dogone hills makes +fools o' most fellers, when they git lost proper--as I'd sure say we +are now." + +But the man had achieved his object. The woman desisted from further +questioning. She sat quite still, conscious of the unpleasant fact +that the man was laughing at her, and also perfectly aware that his +incompetence was responsible for the fact that they were utterly lost +amongst the wild hills about them. + +She was very angry. Angry with the man, angry with herself, for not +being guided by the hotel keeper at Crowsfoot, but more than all she +was angry with Joan for bidding her make the journey. + +Yet she had been unable to resist the girl's appeal. Her inability was +not from any sentimental feeling or sympathy. Such feelings could +never touch her. But the appeal of the manner in which her curse still +followed the girl, and the details she had read through the lines of +her letter, a letter detailing the circumstances of her life on Yellow +Creek, and written under the impulse and hope inspired by the Padre's +support had given her the keenest interest. All the mystical side of +her nature had been stirred in a manner she could not deny, had no +desire to deny. + +Yes, she had come to investigate, to observe, to seek the truth of her +own pronouncement. She had come without scruple, to watch their +effect. To weigh them in the balance of her scientific mysticism. She +had come to watch the struggles of the young girl in the toils which +enveloped her. Her mind was the diseased mind of the fanatic, prompted +by a nature in which cruelty held chief place. + +But now had come this delay. Such was her nature that personal danger +ever appalled her. Death and disaster in the abstract were nothing to +her, but their shadows brushing her own person was something more than +terrifying. And as she thought of the immensity of the world about +her, the gloom, the awful hush, the spirit of the hills got hold of +her and left her full of apprehension. + +The teamster now devoted his whole attention to his whereabouts. His +passenger's interminable questioning silenced, he felt more at his +ease. And feeling at his ease he was able to bring his prairie-trained +faculties to bear on the matter in hand. As they progressed down the +slope he closely observed the tall, distant crown which he thought he +recognized, and finally made up his mind that his estimate was right. +It certainly was the cone crown of Devil's Hill. Thus his certainty +now only left him concerned with the ultimate development of the trail +they were on. + +It was quite impossible to tell what that might be. The road seemed to +be making directly for the mouth of the canyon, and yet all his +experience warned him that such a destination would be unusual. It +must turn away. Yet where? How? + +He searched ahead on the hillside above him for a modification of its +slope. And a long way ahead he fancied he detected such an indication. +But even so, the modification was so slight that there seemed little +enough hope. + +He kept on with dogged persistence. To return was not to be thought of +yet. Any approach to vacillation now would be quite fatal. + +The trail was fading out to little more than a double cattle track, +and the farther he looked along it the more indistinct it seemed to +become. Yet it continued, and the ever downward slope went on, and on. + +His anxious eyes were painfully alert. Where? Where? He was asking +himself with every jog of his weary horses. Then all of a sudden his +questions ceased, and a decided relief leapt into his eyes as he drew +his horses up to a halt. + +He turned to his passenger and pointed with his whip at the hill +abreast of them, his eyes undoubtedly witnessing his relief. + +"See that, ma'm?" he cried. And Mercy beheld a narrow, rough flight of +steps cut in the face of the hill. Each step was deliberately +protected with a timber facing securely staked against "washouts," and +though the workmanship was rough it was evidently the handiwork of men +who thought only of endurance. It rose from the trail-side in a +slanting direction, and, adopting the easiest course on the slope, +wound its way to the very crown of the hill, over the top of which it +vanished. + +"Well?" + +The woman's inquiry was ungracious enough. + +"Why, that's the meanin' o' this yer trail." The man pointed above. +"That sure leads somewheres." + +"I suppose it does." + +Mercy snapped her reply. + +"Sure," said the man. "There's shelter up ther', anyways. An' by the +looks o' them steps I'd say folks is livin' ther' right now." + +"Then for goodness' sake go up and see, and don't sit there wasting +time. I never had to deal with such a perfect fool in my life. Pass +the reins over to me, and I'll wait here." + +The man grinned. But instead of handing her the reins he secured them +to the iron rail of the cart. + +"Guess them hosses know best wot to do 'emselves," he observed +quietly, as he scrambled from the cart. "Best let 'em stand +theirselves, ma'm,--you never know wot's along the end of that +trail--muskegs is----" His final jibe was lost in a deep-throated +chuckle as he began the steep ascent before him. + +Mercy watched him with angry eyes. The man added impertinence to his +foolishness, and the combination was altogether too much for her +temper. But for the fact that she required his services, she would +well have wished that he might fall and break his neck. But her chief +concern was to reach her destination, so she watched him climb the +long steps in the hope that some comforting result might follow. + +As the man rose higher and higher, and his figure grew smaller, his +climb possessed an even greater interest for Mercy Lascelles than she +admitted. She began to appreciate the peril of it, and peril, in +others, always held her fascinated. + +He was forced to move slowly, clinging closely with both hands to the +steps above him. It would be easy to slip and fall, and she waited for +that fall. She waited with nerves straining and every faculty alert. + +So absorbed was she that she had forgotten the horses, forgotten her +own position, everything, in the interest of the moment. Had it been +otherwise, she must have noticed that something had attracted the +drooping horses' attention. She must have observed the suddenly lifted +heads, and pricked ears. But these things passed her by, as did the +approach of a solitary figure bearing a burden of freshly taken fox +pelts, which quite enveloped its massive shoulders. + +The man was approaching round a slight bend in the trail, and the +moment the waiting cart came into view, he stood, startled at the +apparition. Then he whistled softly, and glanced back over the road he +had come. He looked at a narrow point where the trail suddenly ended, +a sharp break where the cliff dropped away abruptly, and further +progress could only be made by an exhausting downward climb by a +skilled mountaineer. + +Then he came slowly on, his gray eyes closely scrutinizing the figure +in the cart. In a moment he saw that it was a woman, and, by her +drooping pose, recognized that she was by no means young. His eyes +took on a curious expression--half doubt, half wonder, and his face +grew a shade paler under his tan. But the change only lasted a few +seconds. He quickly pulled himself together, and, shaking his white +head thoughtfully, continued his way toward the vehicle with the +noiseless gait which moccasins ever give to the wearer. He reached the +cart quite unobserved. The woman's whole attention was absorbed by the +climbing man, and the newcomer smiled curiously as he passed a +greeting. + +"You've hit a wrong trail, haven't you?" he inquired. + +The woman in the cart gave a frantic start, and clutched at the side +rail as though for support. Then her eyes came on a level with the +man's smiling face, and fear gave way to a sudden expression of +relentless hatred. + +"You?" she cried, and her lean figure seemed to crouch as though about +to spring. + +The man returned her stare without flinching. His eyes still wore +their curious smile. + +"Yes," he said. "It is I." + +The woman's lips moved. She swallowed as though her throat had +suddenly become parched. + +"Moreton Bucklaw," she murmured. "And--and after all these years." + +The man nodded. Then several moments passed without a word. + +Finally it was the man who spoke. His manner was calm, so calm that +no one could have guessed a single detail of what lay between these +two, or the significance of their strange meeting. + +"You've hit a bad trail," he said. "There's a big drop back there. +These steps go on up to my home. The old fort. They're an old short +cut to this valley. Guess your man'll need to unhitch his horses and +turn the cart round. He can't get it round else. Then, if you go back +past the shoulder of the hill, you'll see an old track, sharp to your +right. That leads into the trail that'll take you right on down to the +farm where little Joan lives." He moved toward the steps. "I'll tell +your man," he said. + +He mounted the steps with the ease of familiarity, his great muscles +making the effort appear ridiculously easy. A little way up he paused, +and looked down at her. + +"Guess I shall see you again?" he said, with the same curious smile in +his steady eyes. + +And the woman's reply came sharply up the hillside to him. It came +with all the pent-up hatred of years, concentrated into one sentence. +The hard eyes were alight with a cold fury, which, now, in her +advancing years, when the freshness and beauty that had once been hers +could no longer soften them, was not without its effect upon the man. + +"Yes. You will see me again, Moreton Bucklaw." + +And the man continued the ascent with a feeling as though he had +listened to the pronouncement of his death sentence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE WEB OF FATE + + +Joan had looked forward to her aunt's coming with very mixed feelings. +There were moments when she was frankly glad at the prospect of a +companionship which had been hers since her earliest childhood. Her +nature had no malice in it, and the undoubted care, which, in her +early years, the strange old woman had bestowed upon her counted for +much in her understanding of duty and gratitude. Then, besides, +whatever Aunt Mercy's outlook, whatever the unwholesomeness of the +profession she followed with fanatical adherence, she was used to her, +used to her strangenesses, her dark moments. If affection had never +been particularly apparent in the elder woman's attitude toward her, +there had certainly been a uniform avoidance of the display of any +other feeling until those last few days immediately preceding her own +flight from St. Ellis. Habit was strong with Joan, so strong, indeed, +that in her happy moments she was glad at the thought of the return +into her life of the woman who had taken the place of her dead +parents. + +Then, too, even the memory of that frenzied morning, when Aunt Mercy, +laboring under her awful disease of mysticism, had assumed the rôle +of prophetess, and accuser, and hurled at her troubled head a +denunciation as cruel as it was impossible, had lost something of its +dread significance and sting. At the time it had been of a blasting +nature, but now--now, since she had conferred with Buck's great +friend, since Buck's wonderful support had been added to her life, all +the harshness of the past appeared in a new and mellowed light. She +believed she saw her aunt as she really was, a poor, torn creature, +whose mind was diseased, as a result of those early fires of +disappointment through which she had passed. + +The Padre had denied the fate that this aunt had convinced her of. +Buck had defied it, and laughed it out of countenance. These men, so +strong, so capable, had communicated to her receptive nature something +of the hope and strength that was theirs. Thus she was ready to +believe, to stand shoulder to shoulder with them, feeling that in the +future nothing could hurt her. So she was ready for her aunt's coming. + +But to live up to her determination was not always easy. She had +yielded to all her old superstitious dread at the moment when Buck had +first opened her eyes to the wonderful love that had so silently, so +unknown, yet so swiftly grown up in her heart for him. In that +delicious awakening, when lost in a joy almost inconceivable, when her +defenses were at their weakest, the enemy's attack had come swiftly +and surely. Her very love had aided it. Her dread for the man had +gripped her heart, and all her mind and senses had gone back to the +unspeakable fears she had only just learnt to deny. Nor was it until +his denial, a denial given with that wonderful laugh of confidence, +had she been able to drag herself back to the new path which his +white-haired friend had marked out for her. + +Since then, however, she had been able to contemplate her aunt's +coming in something of the spirit in which she desired to welcome +her. She felt that now, at least, she was proof against the +unwholesome thought of the woman's diseased mind. There were certain +unacknowledged trepidations as the time drew near, but these she +contrived to smother under the excitement and interest of preparing +her house for the reception, and the radiant confidence of Buck, which +never failed to support her. + +Every morning and every evening brought Buck's strong presence to the +farm for a brief visit. And each visit was a dream of delight to the +simple, loving girl. All day long, as she labored through her +household cares, and the affairs of the farm she lived in, she dwelt +on the memory of the morning visit, or looked forward to her lover's +coming as the sun reached the western skies. Every night, when she +sought the snow-white ease of her bed, it was to spend her few +remaining minutes of waking dwelling on the happiness of past moments, +and ultimately to anticipate in dreams the delights of the morrow. + +So the days sped rapidly by and the time for Aunt Mercy's arrival drew +on. And with each passing day the shadows receded, her trepidations +became less and less, until they almost reached the vanishing-point. +She felt that in Buck's love no shadow could live. With him at her +side she need have no fear of evil. He was exalted by the very +wholesomeness of his mind and heart, and the strength and confidence +that was his, far, far above the level of hideous superstitions and +happenings. His love for her, her love for him were too great, far too +great, for disaster to ever touch them. + +Then came Aunt Mercy. + +She came in the middle of an oppressive afternoon. The days of late +had assumed an extraordinary oppressiveness for the season of the +year. She came amidst the peaceful calm when all farm life seems to be +wrapped in a restful somnolence, when the animal world has spent its +morning energies, and seeks rest that it may recuperate for the +affairs surrounding its evening meal. + +With her coming Joan's first realization was of dismay at the manner +in which she had underestimated the woman's personality, how strangely +absence had distorted her view of the mind behind those hard, gray +eyes. And with this realization came an uneasy feeling that the power +and influence which had sent her rushing headlong from her home, to +seek the peace of the wilderness, was no fancy of a weak, girlish +mind, but a force, a strong, living force, which made itself felt the +instant she came into the woman's uncanny presence again. + +She was just the same unyielding creature she had always known. Her +peevish plaint at the journey, her railing at the stupidity and +impertinence of the teamster, her expressed disgust at the country, +her complaining of everything. These things were just what Joan must +have expected, had she not lived away from her aunt, and so lost her +proper focus. Joan did her best to appease her. She strove by every +art of her simple mind to interest her and divert her thought and mood +into channels less harsh. But she had little success, and it quickly +became apparent that the lapse of time since her going from home had +aggravated rather than improved the strange mental condition under +which her aunt labored. + +After the first greetings, and Joan had conducted her to her room, +which she had spent infinite time and thought in arranging, the old +woman remained there to rest until supper-time. Then she reappeared, +and, by the signs of her worn, ascetic face, the cruel hollows about +those adamant eyes, the drawn cheeks and furrowed brow, the girl +realized that rest with her was not easy to achieve. She saw every +sign in her now that in the old days she had learned to dread so +acutely. + +However, there was no help for it. She knew it was not in the nature +of that busy brain to rest, and one day the breaking-point would be +reached, and the end would come suddenly. + +But at supper-time there was a definite change in her aunt's mental +attitude. Whereas before her whole thought had been for the outpouring +of her complaint at her personal discomforts, now all that seemed to +have been forgotten in something which held her alert and watchful. +Joan had no thought or suspicion of the working of the swift-moving +brain. Only was she pleased, almost delighted at the questioning and +evident interest in her own affairs. + +The meal was nearly over. Aunt Mercy, as was her habit, had eaten +sparingly, while she alternately listened to the details of the girl's +farm life, the manner of the gold camp, the history of her arrival +there and the many vicissitudes which had followed, and voiced the +questions of her inquisitorial mind. Now she leant back in her chair +and slowly sipped a cup of strong, milkless tea, while her eyes +watched the girl's expressive face. + +Joan had purposely avoided mention of the many details which had had +such power to disturb her in the past. She had no desire to afford a +reopening of the scene she had endured that morning at St. Ellis. But +Mercy Lascelles was not to be thwarted by any such simple subterfuge. + +"You've told me a lot of what doesn't matter," she said sharply, after +a pause, while she sipped her tea. "Now tell me something that does." +She glanced down at the flashing diamond rings upon her fingers. "By +your letter you have not escaped from those things you hoped to--when +you left St. Ellis." + +Joan started. She was sitting with her elbows on the table, her chin +resting on her clasped hands. Mercy Lascelles observed the start, but +offered no comment. She waited. She could afford to wait. She had read +and understood the girl's letter. Besides, there was something else in +her mind. Something else which required piecing into the web which +linked their lives together. She knew that it held an important place, +but its exact position her busy brain was still groping to resolve. + +"Do you want me to talk about--those things?" the girl asked half +appealingly. "Is it necessary? I am very happy, auntie, so happy that +I don't want to risk losing a moment of it. I have not always been +happy since I came here." + +The hard, gray eyes suddenly lifted to the girl's face, and there was +mocking in their depths. + +"You mentioned them light-heartedly enough in your letter. You spoke +of the death of two men to point your assurance that their death had +nothing to do with your--fate. Some one had reassured you. Some one +had made plain the absurdity that such a fate could ever be. Some one +had shown you that such convictions only lived in the human mind and +had no actual place in the scheme of things. Surely with this +wonderful truth behind you, you need not shrink from details of things +which have no connection with your life." + +The icy sarcasm would not be denied. It was the old note Joan had been +so familiar with. Its sting was as poignant as ever, but somehow now +it stirred her to a defense of those who had come to her aid in her +direst need. + +But this was her aunt's first day on the farm. She felt she must +restrain herself. She tried to smile, but it was a weakly attempt. + +"You are quite unchanged, auntie," she said. + +"I might say the same of you, Joan," came the sharp retort. + +But Joan shook her head. + +"You would be quite wrong. I have changed so much that you can never +make me believe again in--all that which you made me believe before. +Let me be frank. Nothing but my conviction that I am no more cursed by +an evil fate than is every other living creature would have induced me +to ask you here. I have asked you to come here and share my home +because you are my aunt, my only relative, who has been good to me in +the past. Because I am lonely here without you, and--and--oh, don't +you understand? There are only us two left. Yes, I want to be with +you." She broke off, but in a moment went on rapidly. "But this could +never have been had I still believed what you made me believe. Under +that old shadow I would have gone to the ends of the world rather than +have been near you. Can't you understand? Let us forget it all--let us +begin a new life together." + +Mercy shook her head. She was quite unmoved by the girl's appeal. + +"There is only one life. There is no beginning again. Those who talk +like that are fools. That is why I say you, too, are unchanged." The +woman's eyes lit. They suddenly became filled with that cold fire +which Joan knew so well. "You think you are changed. You think by an +effort of will--your own, combined with that of another, you have +escaped that which has followed you from your birth. You think that +every disaster that has ever occurred to those with whom you have been +associated, and those who have belonged to you, can be accounted for +naturally. You, with your foolish brain, and the equally foolish brain +of that other. Why, girl, you deny it in every line of the letter you +wrote me. It is there--there in every word, in its very atmosphere. +You are lying to yourself under the influence of this other--who lies +to you. Prove what you say if you want me to believe. The scientific +mind must have proof, undeniable, irrefutable proof. Statements, mere +statements of unbelief are meaningless things which do not convince +even their authors. If you need to convince yourself, and convince me, +then engage yourself to some man, marry him, and I tell you now you +will bring about the direst tragedy that ever befel human creature." + +"I--I have done what--what you dare me to do. I have engaged myself to +marry. I am going to marry the man I love more than life itself." + +Joan had risen from her seat. She stood erect, her beautiful head +thrown back. An ecstatic light shone in the deep velvet softness of +her eyes. But even as she spoke a sudden paling lessened the delicate +bloom of her cheeks. + +The other, with her cold eyes leveled at her, was quick to observe. + +"And who is--your victim?" + +Joan's pallor increased as she stared for a moment with dilating eyes +at the woman who could be capable of such cruelty. Then, of a sudden, +a protest of such bitterness sprang to her lips that even Mercy +Lascelles was startled. + +"Oh, God, was there ever such callous heartlessness in human creature? +Was there ever such madness in sane woman? You ask me to prove my +convictions, you ask me for the one method by which even you can be +convinced, and when I show you how far my new faith has carried me you +taunt me by asking who is my--victim. Oh, aunt, for the love of all +you ever held dear, leave me in peace. Let me prove to you my own +destiny, but leave me in peace until I have done so, or--failed. Can +you not see that I am trying to preserve my sanity? And by every word +and look you are driving me to the verge of madness. The man I love +knows all, he and his great friend. He knows all you have ever told +me, and his love is the strongest and bravest. He laughs this fate to +scorn, he has no fears for himself, or for me. I tell you you shall +have your proof. But you must leave me in peace." + +For a moment it almost seemed as if her aunt were abashed at the +passion of her protest. She withdrew her cold stare, and, with her +jeweled hands folded in her lap, gazed down at the white table-cloth. +She waited until Joan dropped despairingly back into her chair, then +she looked up, and her glance was full of malicious irony. + +"You shall have your way--after to-night. You shall not hear one +word of warning from me. But to-night you must let me have my way. +You say you believe. I tell you I _know_. You must do your best, +and--fail. Have your way." She withdrew her gaze and her eyes became +introspective. "Who is this man--you say you are going to marry?" + +Joan warmed under the change in her aunt's manner. Her relief at the +other's assurance was almost boundless, although the effect of the +woman's previous attitude was to leave her far less sure of herself. + +"It is Buck," she said impulsively. "He is the great friend of the man +from whom I bought this farm. Oh, auntie, wait until you see him. You +will realize, as I have, his strength, his goodness. You will have no +doubts when you know him. You will understand that he has no fear of +any--any supernatural agencies, has no fear of any fancied fate that +may be awaiting him. Auntie, he is tall, so tall, and--oh, he's +wonderful. And his name, Buck--don't you like it? It is so like him. +Buck--independence, courage, confidence. And, oh, auntie, I love him +so." + +Mercy remained quite unmoved. It almost seemed doubtful if she heard +and understood all the simple girlishness in her niece's rhapsody, so +preoccupied she seemed with her own thoughts. + +"It was his friend, you say, who has taught you that--you have nothing +further to fear? And who is this paragon?" + +"He is the man who sold me the farm. He is such a good, kind creature. +He is loved and respected by every soul in the place. He is so wise, +too,--he is quite wonderful. You know, he only sold his farm to me to +keep the miners from starving before they found the gold. He is a sort +of foster-father to Buck. He found him when he was a little +boy--picked him up on the trail-side. That's about twenty years ago, +soon after the Padre--that's what they call him--first came here." + +"Yes, yes; but his name?" + +Mercy had little patience with such detail as interested the fresh +young mind of the girl. + +"Moreton Kenyon." + +The eyes of the old woman shot a swift glance into the girl's face. + +"Moreton--who?" + +"Kenyon." + +Mercy sat up in her chair. Her whole figure was poised alertly. Her +eyes were no longer uninterested. She was stirred to swift mental +activity. She knew that the web was readjusting itself. The portion +she had been seeking to place was finding its own position. + +"He has a head of thick white hair. He has gray eyes, darkly fringed. +He is a man of something over fifty. His shoulders are massive. His +limbs sturdy and powerful." + +Mercy detailed her description of the man in sharp, jerky sentences, +each one definite and pointed. She spoke with the certainty of +conviction. She was not questioning. + +Joan's surprise found vent in a wondering interrogation. + +"Then, you have seen him? You know him?" + +Her aunt laughed. It was a painful, hideous laugh, suggesting every +hateful feeling rather than mirth. Joan was shocked, and vaguely +wondered when she had ever before heard her aunt laugh. + +"Know him? Yes, I know him." The laugh was gone and a terrible look +had suddenly replaced the granite hardness of her eyes. "I have known +him all my life. I saw him only to-day, in the hills. He knew me. Oh, +yes, he knew me, and I knew him. We have reason to know each other. +But his name is not Moreton Kenyon. It is--Moreton Bucklaw." + +Joan's wonder gave place to alarm as the other's venomous manner +increased. The look in her eyes she recognized as the look she had +seen in the woman's eyes when she had first listened to the story of +her childhood. + +"Moreton Bucklaw?" + +"Yes, Moreton Bucklaw," her aunt cried, with sudden vehemence, which +seemed to grow with every word she spoke. "Moreton Bucklaw. Do you +understand? No, of course you don't. So this is your paragon of +goodness and wisdom. This is the man who has told you that your +fate only exists in distorted fancy. This is the man who is the +foster-father of your wonderful Buck, who defies the curse of disaster +which dogs your feet. Child, child, you have proved my words out of +your own lips. The disaster you deny is hard upon your heels, hard +upon the heels of this man you love. Your own hand, the hand even of +your lover, is in it. Was it fate that brought you here? Was it fate +that you should love this man? Was it fate that made my teamster lose +his way and so bring me face to face with this man, almost at the door +of his own home? Was it fate that brought me here? Yes, yes, yes! I +tell you it was fate that did all these things--your fate. The curse +from which you can never escape. Moreton Bucklaw!" She mouthed the +words with insane glee. "It is almost laughable," she cried. "You have +promised to marry the foster-son of the man who is shortly to pay the +penalty for the murder of--your father." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A BLACK NIGHT + + +The Padre sat staring into space before the stove. Buck was in his +favorite position at the open door, gazing out into the darkness of +the night. As he smoked his evening pipe he was thinking, as usual, of +the woman who was never quite out of his thoughts. He was intensely +happy in the quiet fashion that was so much a part of him. It seemed +to him unbelievable that he could have lived and been content before +he met Joan. Now there could be no life without her, no world even. +She pervaded his every sense, his whole being, with her beautiful +presence. + +He breathed deeply. Yes, it was all very, very wonderful. Then, by +degrees, his thoughts ran on to the expected arrival of Joan's +relative--that aunt whom he had heard so much about from the Padre. +And in a moment an uneasy feeling made him shift his position. The +Padre's story was still vivid in his mind; he could never forget it. +Nor could he forget this woman's place in it. These thoughts set him +speculating uneasily as to the possible result of her visit. + +He surreptitiously glanced over at the silent figure beside the stove. +The man's pipe was still in his mouth, but it had gone out. Also he +saw, in that quick glance, that the fire in the stove had fallen low. +But he made no move to replenish it. The night was very sultry. + +He turned again to his contemplation of the outer world. The night was +black, jet black. There was not a star visible. The mountain air had +lost its cool snap, the accustomed rustle of the woods was gone. There +was a tense stillness which jarred in an extraordinary degree. + +"A desperate, dark night," he said suddenly. He was merely voicing his +thought aloud. + +The sound of his voice roused the other from his reverie. The Padre +lifted his head and removed the pipe from between his teeth. + +"Yes--and hot. Throw us your tobacco." + +Buck pitched his pouch across, but remained where he was. + +"Guess that leddy's down at the farm by now," Buck went on. "Joan was +guessing she'd get around to-day. That's why I didn't go along there." + +"Yes, she is there." The Padre lit his pipe and smoked steadily. + +Buck turned quickly. + +"How d'you know?" + +"I met her on the trail. They missed their way this morning and hit +the trail below here, at the foot of the steps." + +"You didn't--let her see you?" Buck asked, after a pause. + +The Padre smiled. + +"I spoke to her. I put her on the right trail." + +"You spoke to her?" Buck's tone was half incredulous. "Did +she--recognize you?" + +The other nodded. + +"You see, I've not changed much--except for my hair." + +"What did she do--say?" + +The Padre's smile remained. + +"Said--I should see her again." + +For some moments the two men faced each other across the room. The +yellow lamplight plainly revealed their different expressions. The +Padre's smile was inimitable in its sphinx-like obscurity, but Buck's +eyes were frankly troubled. + +"And that means?" Buck's question rang sharply. + +"She has neither forgotten nor--forgiven." + +Buck returned abruptly to his contemplation of the night, but his +thoughts were no longer the happy thoughts of the lover. Without +knowing it he was proving to himself that there were other things in +the world which could entirely obscure the happy light which the +presence of Joan shed upon his life. + +The Padre sat back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, +while his pipe burned hot and the smoke of it rose thickly. It was the +only outward sign he gave of any emotion. Buck suddenly forgot the +night. A desperate thought was running hotly through his brain. His +friend's admission had set his fertile young brain working furiously. +It was traveling just whither a vivid imagination carried it. A +reckless purpose was swiftly formulating. + +After a while he turned again. His resolve was taken on the impulse of +the moment. + +"Padre," he said, "you shall never----" But his sentence remained +incomplete. He broke off, listening. + +The other was listening too. + +There was the sharp cracking of a forest tree--one of those mysterious +creakings which haunt the woodland night. But there was another sound +too. The trained ears of these men caught its meaning on the instant. +It was the vague and distant sound of wheels upon the soft bed of the +sandy trail. + +"A heavy wagon, an'--two hosses," said Buck. + +The Padre nodded. + +"Coming from the direction of the farm. Sounds like the old team,--and +they're being driven too fast for heavy horses. Joan hasn't got a +saddle-horse of her own." + +His last remark explained his conviction, and the suggestion found +concurrence in Buck's mind. + +They waited, and the sound grew louder. Then, without a word, Buck +passed out of the room. + +A few minutes later the rumble of wheels ceased, and the Padre heard +Buck's voice greeting Joan. + + * * * * * + +A tragic light shone in Joan's eyes as she stood in the centre of the +room glancing from her lover to his friend. She was searching for an +opening for what she had come to say. Her distraught brain was +overwhelmed with thoughts she could not put into words. She had driven +over with the heavy team and wagon because she had no other means of +reaching these two, and unless she reached them to-night she felt that +by morning her sanity must be gone. Now--now--she stood speechless +before them. Now, her brain refused to prompt her tongue. All was +chaos in her mind, and her eyes alone warned the men of the object of +her coming. + +It was the Padre's voice that finally guided her. He read without +hesitation or doubt the object of her mission. + +"Yes," he said simply. "I am Moreton Bucklaw, the man accused of your +father's murder." + +Suddenly the girl's head drooped forward, and her hands covered her +face as though to shut out the terrible truth which the man's words +conveyed. + +"O God!" she cried. "Then she was not lying to me." + +Buck's eyes, fierce, almost savage at the sight of the girl's despair, +shot a swift glance at his friend. It was a glance which only the +white-haired man could have understood. To the looker-on it would have +expressed a terrible threat. To the Padre it was the expression of a +heart torn to shreds between love and friendship. + +"If she told you I killed him--she was lying." + +The man had not raised his tone. There was no other emotion in his +manner than distress for the girl's suffering. + +Joan looked up, and a gleam of hope struggled through her despair. + +"Then it's not true? Oh, I knew it--I knew it! She _was_ lying to me. +She _was_ lying to me as she has always lied to me. Oh, thank God, +thank God!" She dropped back into the chair that had been placed for +her, but which up to that moment she had ignored. + +The two men waited for her emotion to pass. Buck as yet had nothing to +say. And the Padre knew that until she was mistress of herself words +would only be wasted. + +Presently she looked up. Her eyes were dry, and the agony that had +sent her upon her headlong mission was passing. The Padre's relief +showed in the smile with which he met her glance. Buck stood steadily +regarding her, longing to help her, but knowing that his time had not +come yet. + +"Tell me," she said, struggling hard for steadiness. "Tell me all--for +I--I cannot seem to understand anything." + +The Padre bowed his head. + +"You know your own story. It is all substantially true that Mercy +Lascelles has told you. All, that is, except that she claims I killed +your father. She did not see your father die. I did. I was the only +one who saw him die--by his own hand, a desperate and ruined man. +Listen, and I will tell you the whole story without concealing one +tittle of my own doings and motives." + +Half an hour passed while the man's even voice recited without emotion +all the details leading up to Charles Stanmore's death. He kept +nothing back--his own love for the then handsome Mercy, and the +passionate insult he had offered her, when, in her love for the dead +man, she became his housekeeper. He intended that, for Buck's sake, +this girl should know everything, nor had he the least desire for any +concealment on personal account. He did not spare his own folly and +the cowardice of his flight. He felt that concealment of any sort +could only injure Buck, whom at all costs he must not hurt. He even +analyzed, with all the logic at his command, Mercy Lascelles' motives +in accusing him. He declared his belief in her desire to marry the +widowed man and her own consequent hatred of himself, whose presence +was a constant thwart to her plans. + +And when he had finished something of the trouble had passed out of +the girl's eyes. The color had returned to her cheeks, and he knew +that he had achieved his purpose. + +"I suppose it is terrible to you, child, to hear me speak of your +aunt, one of your own sex, a blood relative, in this way," he said in +conclusion. "But I believe that she is absolutely mad in her hatred of +me. And now that she has discovered my whereabouts nothing less will +satisfy her than that I must stand my trial, and--go to the electric +chair. It is my purpose to stand my trial. It was for that reason, +when I recognized her this morning, before she even saw me, I +purposely thrust myself in her way. I intended that she should not +lack opportunity, and my reason--well, that doesn't much matter." + +The girl nodded. + +"I think I am glad of your decision," she said simply. "You see, when +you have established your innocence----" + +"I fear that result is--doubtful." + +The man's admission was quite frank. Nor was there even a suggestion +of regret in his voice. But Joan's heart gripped with alarm. The +thought of such a contingency had never occurred to her simple mind. +He had not committed murder. Then, of course, he was innocent. It had +all been made so simple. Now--now she was suddenly overwhelmed with a +new terror. + +"You mean--you cannot prove--your innocence?" she cried incredulously. + +"You forget I was the only man with him. I was the last person with +him. And--I fled when I should have stayed to--help. The circumstances +are terribly against me." + +Joan's throat had suddenly parched. She struggled to speak, but no +sound came. She looked to Buck for help and the man ran to her side. + +The gentle pressure of his protecting arm, as he rested one caressing +hand upon her shoulder, gave her the relief she needed. + +"Oh, Buck, Buck! For the love of Heaven say something--do something," +she appealed. "They will kill him for a crime--of which he is +innocent." + +Suddenly the Padre's eyes glowed with a strange light of happiness. +The girl's appeal to Buck had been the one saving touch in the midst +of the cloud of tribulation overshadowing him. The daughter of his +best friend, the daughter of the man he was supposed to have done to +death, had given her verdict. She believed in his innocence. He sighed +with the depth of his thankfulness. He could now face whatever lay +before him with perfect equanimity. + +But Buck had yet to play his part in the little drama so swiftly +working itself out. His part was far different to the passive attitude +of the other man. He had no tolerance for the possible sacrifice of an +innocent life at the demand of a crazy woman who had come so nearly +wrecking the life of the girl he loved. As Joan appealed to him his +eyes lit with a sudden fire of rebellion. And his answer came in a hot +rush. + +"You think I'm goin' to let him die, Joan?" he cried, the hot blood +staining his cheeks and brow. "I tell you he won't. I swear to you, +sure, sure, he shan't die a murderer's death! I tell you right here, +little gal, ther' ain't a sheriff in the country big enough to take +him. He says he must give up to arrest when the time comes. Wal, he'll +have to do it over my dead body." + +His words were in answer to Joan's appeal, but they were hurled at the +man beside the fire, and were a defiance and a challenge from the +depths of a loyal heart. + +The Padre's smile was good to see. But he shook his head. And +instantly Joan caught at the enthusiasm which stirred her lover and +hugged it to herself. She sprang to her feet, and a wonderful light +shone in her eyes. + +"Buck is right, Padre. He is right," she cried. "Do you hear? You +shall not take the risk, you must not. Oh, Padre! you must live for +our sakes. We know your innocence, then what more is needed after all +these years? For once let us be your mentors--you who have always been +the mentor of others. Padre, Padre, you owe this to us. Think of it! +Think of what it would mean. A murderer's death! You shall not, you +cannot give yourself up. Buck is right. I, too, am with him." + +She turned to the man at her side, and, raising her arms, clasped her +hands about his neck. + +"Buck--my Buck. Let us swear together that, while we have life, he +shall never be the victim of this crazy, terrible woman. It shall be +our fight--yours and mine." + +Buck gazed down into her beautiful, pleading eyes as he clasped her +slim body in his strong, young arms. Her eyes were alight with a love, +radiant in its supremacy over her whole being. Her championship of his +innocent friend would have endeared her a thousandfold had such a +thing been possible. In that moment it was as though her courage, her +loyalty, had completed the bond between them. His jaws gritted tight. +His eyes shone with a fervent resolution. + +"It goes, little gal," he cried. "It's our lives for his. It sure +goes--every time." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +BEASLEY IN HIS ELEMENT + + +The camp was sweltering under an abnormal heat. There was not one +breath of the usual invigorating mountain air. A few more degrees of +humidity, and the cup of endurance would have been filled to +overflowing and toiling humanity breathing something like sheer +moisture. The sky was heavy and gray, and a dull sun, as though it too +had been rendered faint-hearted, was painfully struggling against the +laden atmosphere. + +The work of the camp went on. For hours human nature wrestled with a +growing inertia which robbed effort of all snap. But gradually, as the +day wore on, the morning impetus gave way, and peevish tongues voiced +the general plaint. Men moved about slowly, their tongues actively +cursing. They cursed the heat as they mopped their dripping brows. +They cursed the flies, and hurled mighty blows for their destruction. +They cursed all work, and gold became the last thing in the world they +desired at such a price. They cursed the camp, the country, but more +than all they cursed the black hill from which they drew their living. + +Then came acknowledgment of defeat. One by one at first, and finally +in batches, they shouldered their tools and moodily withdrew from the +attack. As they went weary eyes glanced back with hate and disgust at +the frowning buttresses of the hill, with awe at the steaming cloud +hanging above the simmering waters of the suspended lake. The +depressing shadow of Devil's Hill had for the moment become +intolerable. + +Beasley hated the heat just as cordially as these toilers, but he +would have hated still more its sudden going, and the consequent +appeasement of unnatural thirsts, which it was his pleasure and profit +to slake. His own feelings were at all times subservient to his +business instincts. This sudden, unaccountable heat meant added profit +to him, therefore his complaint was half-hearted. It was almost as if +he feared to give offense to the gods of his good fortune. + +Then, too, Beasley had so many things to occupy his busy brain. His +trade was one that required much scheming, a matter in which he +reveled at all times. Problems of self-interest were his salt of life, +and their accurate solution brought him as near earthly happiness as +well could be. + +Curiously enough problems were always coming his way. He chanced upon +one that morning while busy in his storeroom, his attention divided +between pricing and stacking new dry goods and smashing flies on the +back of his superheated neck. And it served him with food for thought +for the rest of the day. + +It took him quite unawares, and for that very reason gave him ample +satisfaction. He was bending over a pile of rolls of fabric when a +voice suddenly hailed him from the doorway. + +"Are you the proprietor of the livery stables?" + +He turned about with a start. Such a question in that camp seemed +superfluous. It was absurd. He looked up, and his astonished eyes fell +upon the vision of an extremely well-dressed, refined-looking woman +whom he judged to be anything over fifty. But what held his attention +most was the lean, emaciated face and penetrating eyes. There was +something of the witch about it, as there was about the bowed figure. +But more than all she was a _stranger_. + +He admitted the impeachment in the midst of his astonishment with an +abruptness equal to her own. + +"Sure," he said, and waited. + +"Where will I find the sheriff of this place?" + +Beasley's eyes opened wider. + +"Guess ther' ain't no sheriff in this camp." + +The woman's next words came impatiently. + +"Why isn't there? Is there a lawyer?" + +Beasley grinned. His astonishment was giving place to curiosity and +speculation. He tapped the revolver at his hip. + +"We're mostly our own lawyers around here," he said easily. + +But the woman ignored his levity. + +"Where can I find one--a lawyer, or sheriff?" she demanded with an +added imperiousness. + +"Guess Leeson Butte's nearest." + +The stranger considered a moment. Beasley's eyes never left her. He +had noticed the refinement of her accent, and wondered the more. + +"How can I get there--best?" the woman next demanded. + +"Guess I ken let you have a team," Beasley said with alacrity. He +smelt good business. + +"How much?" + +"Fifty dollars. In an' out--with teamster." + +"Does he know the way?" + +"Sure." + +The woman eyed him steadily. + +"I don't want any mistakes. This--is a case of murder." + +Beasley's interest suddenly redoubled. The problem was growing in its +attractiveness. + +"Who's the feller?" he asked unguardedly. + +"That's not your business." The woman's eyes were cold. "Send the team +over to the farm down the river in two hours' time. The horses must be +able to travel fast. Here's the money." + +The saloon-keeper took the money promptly. But for once his +astonishment held him silent. Mercy Lascelles had reached the door to +go. Then she seemed to change her mind. She paused. + +"There's fifty dollars more when I get back--if you keep your tongue +quiet," she said warningly. "I don't want my business to get around. I +should say gossip travels fast amongst the hills. That's what I don't +want." + +"I see." + +It was all the astonished man could think of to say at the moment. But +he managed an abundant wink in a markedly friendly way. + +His wink missed fire, however, for the woman had departed; and by the +time he reached the door to look after her he saw her mounting the +wagon, which was drawn by the heavy team from Joan's farm, and driven +by her hired man. + +As the stranger drove off he leant against the doorway and emitted a +low whistle. In his own phraseology he was "beat," completely and +utterly "beat." + +But this state of things could not last long. His fertile brain could +not long remain under such a cloud of astonished confusion. He must +sort out the facts and piece them together. This he set to work on at +once. + +Abandoning his work in the storeroom he went at once to the barn, and +gave orders for the dispatch of the team. And herein, for once, he +traded honestly with his visitor. He ordered his very best team to be +sent. Perhaps it was in acknowledgment of the problem she had offered +him. + +Then he questioned his helpers. Here he was absolutely despotic. And +in less than half an hour he had ascertained several important facts. +He learned that a team had come in from Crowsfoot the previous +afternoon, bringing a passenger for the farm. The team had remained at +the farm, likewise the teamster. Only the fact that daylight that +morning had brought the man into camp for a supply of fodder and +provisions had supplied them with the news of his presence in the +district. This had happened before Beasley was up. + +With this Beasley went back to the saloon, where his dinner was served +him in the bar. His bartender was taking an afternoon off. It was a +thoughtful meal. The man ate noisily with the aid of both knife and +fork. He had acquired all the habits of the class he had so long mixed +with. Nor was it until his plate of meat and canned vegetables had +nearly disappeared that light began to creep into his clouded brain. + +He remembered that Joan had refurnished the farm. Why? Because some +one from the East, no doubt, was coming to stay with her. Who? Mother? +Aunt? Cousin? Female anyway. Female arrives. Queer-looking female. +Goes to farm. Stays one night. Comes looking for sheriff next +morning. A case of murder. No murder been done around here. Where? +East? Yes. Then there's some one here she's found--or she knows is +here--and he's wanted for murder. Who? + +At this point Beasley grinned. How many might there not be on Yellow +Creek who could be so charged? + +But his shrewd mind was very quick. This woman had not been into camp +until she visited him. Where had she been? In the hills--coming from +Crowsfoot. Still she might have been aware of the presence of her man +before she came--through Joan. + +For a moment he was disappointed. + +But it was only for a moment. He quickly brightened up. A new idea had +occurred to him which narrowed his field of possibilities. This woman +was educated, she belonged to a class he had once known himself. She +would know nothing of the riffraff of this camp. It must be somebody +of the same class, or near it, somebody of education----He drew a +sharp breath, and his wicked eyes lit. + +The wildest, the most impossible thought had occurred to him. He +pondered long upon the passage of the trail from Crowsfoot to the +farm. He remembered how she did not desire the "gossip" to +travel--especially to the hills. + +Suddenly he hailed his Chinese cook and flung his knife and fork down +upon his plate. In his elation he forgot the heat, the sticky flies. +He forgot his usual custom of abstention during the day. He poured +himself out a long drink of really good whisky, which he gulped down, +smacking his lips with appreciation before flinging his customary +curse at the head of his Mongolian servitor. + +He had never had such a morning in his life. + +Two of the boys came in for a drink. Such was his mood that he upset +their whole focus of things by insisting that they have it at his +expense. And when a third came along with a small parcel of gold dust +he bought it at its full value. + +These were significant signs. Beasley Melford was in a generous mood. +And such a mood in such a man required a lot of inspiration. + +But it was not likely to continue for long. And surely enough it +quickly reached its limit, and resolved itself into his every-day +attitude, plus a desire to make up, at the first opportunity, the +losses incurred by his moments of weak generosity. + +The heat of the day soon afforded him his desire, for the limp and +sweating miners straggled back into camp long before their usual +working day was ended. And what is more, they came to seek solace and +refreshment under his willing roof. + +By the middle of the afternoon the bar was fairly well filled. The +place was little better than a furnace of humid heat. But under the +influence of heartening spirits the temperature passed almost +unnoticed, or at least uncared. Here at least the weary creatures were +called upon for no greater effort than to deal cards, or raise a glass +to their lips and hold it there until drained. They could stand any +heat in the pursuit of such pastimes. + +Beasley watched his customers closely. Three tables of poker were +going, and from each he drew a percentage for the "chips" sold at the +bar. Each table was well supplied with drinks. A group of five men +occupied one end of the counter, and two smaller groups were farther +along. They were all drinking with sufficient regularity to suit his +purposes. Amongst the crowd gathered he noticed many of the men of the +original camp. There was Curly Saunders and Slaney at one poker table +with Diamond Jack. Abe Allinson was in close talk with two financial +"sharps" from Leeson, at the bar. The Kid was with a number of new +hands who had only just come in to try their luck. He was endeavoring +to sell a small share of his claim at a large price. Two others were +with the larger group at the bar, discussing "outputs" and new methods +of washing gold. It was a mixed collection of humanity, but there were +sufficient of the original members of the camp to suit him. + +In a lull in the talk, when for a moment only the click of poker +"chips" and the shuffle of cards broke the silence, Beasley propped +himself against his counter and, for once, paused from his everlasting +habit of glass wiping. + +"Guess none o' you heard the news?" he inquired, with a grin of +anticipation. + +His first effort failed to produce the effect he desired, so a +repetition followed quickly. For a moment play was suspended at one of +the tables, and the men looked up. + +"Noos?" inquired Diamond Jack. + +The Kid and his youthful companions looked round at the foxy face of +their host. + +"Oh! I don't guess it's nuthin'," said Beasley. "Only--it's so dogone +queer." + +His manner was well calculated. His final remark drew the entire +barroom. All play and all talk was abruptly held up. + +"Wot's queer?" demanded Diamond Jack, while all eyes searched the +saloon-keeper's sharp face. + +Beasley bit the end off a green cigar. + +"That's just it," he said. "Ther's suthin' I can't jest make out. +Say----" he paused while he lit his cigar with a sulphur match. "Any +you fellers heard of a murder around here lately? Can't say I have." + +He puffed leisurely at his cigar. The scattered groups at the bar drew +closer. There was no question but he now had the attention he desired. +The blank negative on the faces about him gave him his answer. + +"Sure," he observed thoughtfully. "That's wher' I'm beat. But--ther's +sure murder been done, an' ther's goin' to be a big doin' around--in +consequence. Ther's word gone in to the sheriff at Leeson, an' the law +fellers o' that city is raisin' a mighty business to get warrants +signed. Say, I heerd they're sendin' a dozen dep'ties to hunt these +hills. Seems to me the guy whoever it is is a pretty hot tough, an' +he's livin' in the hills. I heard more than that. I heard the murder +was a low-down racket that if folks knew about it they'd be right out +fer lynchin' this guy. That's why it's bin kep' quiet. I bin goin' +over the folks in my mind to locate the--murderer. But it's got me +beat." + +"Ther' ain't bin no murder since the camp got boomin'," said Abe +Allinson thoughtfully, "'cept you reckon that racket of Ike an' +Pete's." + +Beasley shook his head. + +"'Tain't that. That was jest clear shootin'. Though it's queer you +mention that. Say, this racket's got somethin' to do with that farm. +It's mighty queer about that farm. That gal's brought a heap of +mischief. She sure is an all-fired Jonah." + +"But what's she to do wi' this new racket?" inquired Slaney. + +Beasley shook his head. + +"You got me beat again. The sheriff's comin' right out to that farm, +chasin' some feller for murder. Ther's the fact--plain fact. He's +comin' to that farm--which shows that gal is mussed-up with the racket +someways. Now I tho't a heap on this thing. An' I'm guessin' this +murder must have been done back East. Y' see that gal comes from back +East. 'Wal, now,' says I, 'how do we shape then?' Why, that gal--that +Jonah gal--comes right here an' locates some feller who's done murder +back East. Who is it? I gone over every feller in this yer camp, an' +'most all are pretty clear accounted for. Then from what I hear the +sheriff's posse is to work the hills. Who is ther' in the hills?" + +Beasley paused for effect. His purpose was rapidly becoming evident. +He glanced over the faces about him, and knew that the same thought +was in each mind. + +He laughed as though an absurd thought had passed through his mind. + +"Course," he exclaimed, "it's durned ridic'lous. Ther's two fellers we +know livin' in the hills. Jest two. Ther's Buck an'--the Padre. Buck's +bin around this creek ever since he was raised. I ain't no use for +Buck. He's kind o' white livered, but he's a straight citizen. Then +the Padre," he laughed again, "he's too good. Say, he's next best to a +passon. So it can't be him." + +He waited for concurrence, and it came at once. + +"I'll swar' it ain't the Padre," cried Curly warmly. + +"It sure ain't," agreed Slaney, shaking his serious head. + +"The Padre?" cried Abe, with a scornful laugh. "Why, I'd sooner guess +it's me." + +Beasley nodded. + +"You're dead right ther', boys," he said, with hearty good-will. "It +sure ain't the Padre. He's got religion, an' though I'm 'most allus +curious 'bout folks with religion--it ain't right to say ther's any +queer reason fer 'em gettin' it. Then the Padre's bin here nigh twenty +years. Jest fancy! A feller of his eddication chasin' around these +hills fer twenty years! It's easy fer a feller raised to 'em, like +Buck. But when you've been a feller in a swell position East, to come +an' hunt your hole in these hills fer twenty years, why, it's--it's +astonishin'. Still, that don't make no diff'rence. It can't be the +Padre. He's got his reasons fer stayin' around here. Wal, nigh all of +us has got reasons fer bein' here. An' it ain't fer us to ask why. No, +though I don't usually trust folks who get religion sudden, I ain't +goin' agin the Padre. He's a white man, sure." + +"The whitest around here," cried Curly. He eyed Beasley steadily. +"Say, you," he went on suspiciously, "who give you all this?" + +It was the question Beasley had been waiting for. But he would rather +have had it from some one else. He twisted his cigar across his lips +and spat a piece of tobacco leaf out of his mouth. + +"Wal," he began deliberately, "I don't guess it's good med'cine +talkin' names. But I don't mind sayin' right here this thing's made me +feel mean. The story's come straight from that--that--Jonah gal's +farm. Yep, it makes me feel mean. Ther's nothin' but trouble about +that place now--'bout her. I ain't got over Ike and Pete. Wal, I don't +guess we'll get to the rights of that now. They wer' two bright boys. +Here are us fellers runnin' this camp fer all we know, all good +citizens, mind, an' ther' ain't nothin' amiss. We ke'p the place good +an' clean of rackets. We're goin' to boom into a big concern, an' +we're goin' to make our piles--clean. An' we got to put up with the +wust sort of mischief--from this farm. It ain't right. It ain't a +square shake by a sight. I sez when ther's Jonahs about they need to +be put right out. An' mark you, that gal, an' that farm are Jonahs. +Now we got this sheriff feller comin' around with his dep'ties chasin' +glory after a crook. He'll get his nose into everybody. An' sheriffs' +noses is quick at gettin' a nasty smell. I ain't sayin' a thing about +any citizen in this place--but I don't guess any of us has store halos +about us, an' halos is the only things'll keep any feller safe when +sheriffs get around." + +A murmur of approval greeted his argument. Few of the men in the camp +desired the presence of a sheriff in their midst. There were few +enough among them who would care to have the ashes of their past +disturbed by any law officer. Beasley had struck the right note for +his purpose. + +"How'd you put this Jonah out, Beasley?" cried Diamond Jack. + +Beasley thought for a moment. + +"How'd I put her out?" he said at last. "That's askin' some. How'd I +put her out? Say," his face flushed, and his eyes sparkled, "ef I had +my way I'd burn every stick o' that dogone farm. Then she'd light out. +That's what I'd do. I ain't got no use for Jonahs. An' I say right +here I'd give five hundred dollars to see her back turned on this +place. I tell you, boys, an' I'm speakin' for your good, an' mine, if +she stops around here we're goin' to get it--we'll get it good. The +Lord knows how it's goin' to come. But it's comin', I feel it in my +bones. It's comin' as sure as my name's Beasley." + +He threw such a sincerity and earnestness into his manner that he made +a marked impression. Even Curly Saunders, who, with one or two of the +older hands, had some sort of regard for the girl they believed had +founded their fortunes, was not quite without doubts. There was no +question but mischief did seem to hang about the farm. Ike and Pete +had been popular enough. The newer people had no sentiment on the +matter, but they listened with interest to the saloon-keeper, feeling +that his was the voice of the leading citizen. Besides, the matter of +the sheriff's coming was not pleasant. Many had spent a great part of +their lives avoiding such contact. + +"Seems to me you're forgettin' that gal brought us our luck," the Kid +suggested impulsively. "You were ther' when we handed her the----" + +"Death's-head," laughed Beasley. Then his face hardened. "Tcha!" he +cried with some heat. "You make me sick. I told you then, as I tell +you now, it was that storm brought us our luck, an' it brought us our +Jonah with it. If you'd got a cent's worth of grit that gal 'ud go. We +don't wish her harm. I ain't one to wish a gal harm. But go she must +if we want to be quit of trouble. Still, I'm on'y just sayin' what I +feel. It don't matter a heap. Ther's the sheriff comin' along to grab +some one for murder. Maybe he'll chase up a few other rackets to fill +in his time. It's things of that nature do matter. He's got to git +some one. Maybe it's some one in the hills. Maybe it ain't. +Maybe--wal, I sure do hope it ain't--the Padre." + +He laughed as he turned to attend the wants of some fresh customers +who entered the bar at that moment. The malice underlying his jest +must have been plain to any one observing the man. + +With this fresh diversion play at the card tables was resumed while +the men at the bar fell back into their original groups. But the +general interest was absorbed in Beasley's news, and the channels of +talk were diverted. Beasley had sown his seed on fruitful soil. He +knew it. The coming of a sheriff, or any form of established law, into +a new mining camp was not lightly to be welcomed by the earliest +pioneers. + +In the midst of this atmosphere a further interest arose. The last +person Beasley expected to see in his bar at that hour of the day was +Buck. He was not even sure he wanted to see him after what had passed. +Yet Buck suddenly pushed his way through the swing-doors. + +The saloon-keeper was in the act of replacing the whisky bottle under +the counter, having just served his fresh customers, when his foxy +eyes encountered the dark face of the man he most hated on Yellow +Creek. + +In a moment he was all smiles. + +"Howdy, Buck," he cried, as though the sight of him was the one thing +in the world he desired. Then he covertly winked at those nearest him. + +His wink conveyed all he intended, and the men turned and eyed the +newcomer curiously. + +Buck responded to the greeting indifferently, and proceeded to +business. He had not come for the pleasure of the visit. He passed a +slip of paper across the counter. + +"Can you do them for me?" he inquired. "Just cast an eye over that +list. If you'll get 'em put up I'll ride in in the mornin' an' fetch +'em out. I'll need 'em early." + +His manner was short and cold. It was his way with Beasley, but now +there was more in his mind to make for brevity. + +Beasley studied the paper closely. And as he read down the list a +smile spread over his mean face. It was a long list of supplies which +included rifle and revolver ammunition. He whistled softly. + +"Mackinaw!" Then he looked up into the dark eyes of the waiting man, +and his own expressed an unwonted good-humor. "Say, wot's doin' at the +fort? Gettin' ready for a siege? Or--or are you an' the Padre chasin' +the long trail?" + +Buck's thin cheeks flushed as he pointed at the paper. + +"You can do that for me?" he inquired still more coldly. + +Beasley shot a swift glance round at the interested faces of the men +standing by. + +"Oh, guess I can do it," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Sure I can do +it. Say, you fellers ain't lightin' out?" + +He winked again. This time it was deliberately at Buck. + +"They're winter stores," said Buck shortly. + +Then, as Beasley laughed right out, and he became aware of a general +smile at his expense, he grew hot. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded sharply. And his demand was not +intended for the saloon-keeper alone. + +"Ke'p your shirt on, Buck," exclaimed Beasley, with studied +good-nature. "We couldn't jest help but laff." Then his eyes became +sentimentally serious. "Y' see, we bin worried some. We wus guessin' +when you came along. Y' see, ther's a sheriff an' a big posse o' +dep'ties comin' right along to this yer camp. Y' see, ther's some guy +chasin' around the hills, an' he's wanted fer--murder." + +The man was watching for an effect in Buck's face. But he might as +well have looked for expression in that of a sphinx. + +"Wal?" + +It was the only response Buck afforded him. + +"Wal," Beasley shifted his gaze. He laughed feebly, and the onlookers +transferred their attention to him. "Y' see, it was sort o' laffable +you comin' along buyin' winter stores in August, an' us jest guessin' +what guy the sheriff would be chasin'--in the hills. He won't be +smellin' around the fort now?" He grinned amiably into the dark face. +But deep in his wicked eyes was an assurance which Buck promptly read. + +Nor did it take him a second to come to a decision. He returned the +man's look with a coolness that belied his real feelings. He knew +beyond question that Mercy Lascelles had already commenced her +campaign against the Padre. He had learned of her journey into the +camp from Joan. The result of that journey had not reached him yet. At +least it was reaching him now. + +"You best hand it me straight, Beasley," he said. "Guess nothin' +straight is a heap in your line. But jest for once you've got no +corners to crawl around. Hand it out--an' quick." + +Buck's manner was dangerously sharp set. There was a smouldering fire +growing in his passionate eyes. Beasley hesitated. But his hesitation +was only for the reason of his own growing heat. He made one last +effort to handle the matter in the way he had originally desired, +which was with a process of good-humored goading with which he hoped +to keep the company present on his side. + +"Ther's no offense, Buck," he said. "At least ther' sure needn't to +be. You never could play easy. I wus jest handin' you a laff--same as +we had." + +"I'm waitin'," said Buck with growing intensity, utterly ignoring the +explanation. + +But Beasley's hatred of the man could not be long denied. Besides, his +last attempt had changed the attitude of the onlookers. There was a +lurking derision, even contempt in their regard for him. It was the +result of what had occurred before Buck's coming. They expected him to +talk as plainly as he had done then. So he gave rein to the venom +which he could never long restrain. + +"Guess I hadn't best ke'p you waitin', sure," he said ironically. Then +his eyes suddenly lit. "Winter stores, eh?" he cried derisively. +"Winter stores--an' why'll the Padre need 'em, the good kind Padre, +when the sheriff's comin' along to round him up fer--murder?" + +There was a moment of tense silence as the man flung his challenge +across the bar. Every eye in the room was upon the two men facing each +other. In the mind of every one present was only one expectation. The +lightning-like play of life and death. + +But the game they all understood so well was not forthcoming. For once +Buck's heat was controlled by an iron will. To have shot Beasley down +where he stood would have been the greatest delight of his life, but +he restrained the impulse. There were others to think of. He forced +himself to calmness. + +Beasley had fired his shot in the firm conviction it would strike home +unfailingly. Yet he knew that it was not without a certain random in +it. Still, after what had been said, it was imperative to show no +weakening. He was certain the quarry was the Padre, and his +conviction received further assurance as he watched Buck's face. + +For an instant Buck would willingly have hurled the lie in his teeth. +But to do so would have been to lie himself, and, later, for that lie +to be proved. There was only one course open to him to counter the +mischief of this man. He looked squarely into the saloon-keeper's +face. + +"The truth don't come easy to you, Beasley," he said calmly, "unless +it's got a nasty flavor. Guess that's how it's come your way to tell +it now." + +"Winter stores," laughed the man behind the bar. And he rubbed his +hands gleefully, and winked his delight in his own astuteness at the +men looking on. + +Then his face sobered, and it seemed as though all his animosity had +been absorbed in a profound regret. His whole attitude became the +perfection of a righteous indignation and sympathy, which almost +deceived Buck himself. + +"See here, Buck," he exclaimed, leaning across his bar. "You an' me +don't always see things the same way. Guess I don't allus hit it with +the Padre. No, I guess ther' ain't a heap of good feeling among the +three of us. But before you leave here I want to say jest one thing, +an' it's this. Sheriff or no sheriff, deputies or no deputies, if +they're lookin' fer the Padre for murder I say it's a jumped-up fake. +That man couldn't do a murder, not to save his soul. An' it'll give me +a whole heap o' pleasure fixin' up your winter stores. An' good luck +to you both--when you hit the long trail." + +A murmur of approval went round the room amongst those of the company +who remembered the days before the gold strike. And Beasley, in his +long career of mischief, almost achieved popularity. + +Buck could scarcely believe his ears. And his incredulity was not +lessened as he looked into the furtive eyes of the man who had +expressed himself so cordially. + +But he had been given the opportunity he knew he would need sooner or +later. He knew that there were men in the camp who would stand by the +Padre in emergency, and they must know the truth. Since Aunt Mercy's +campaign had opened, and the news of it was spread abroad, these men +must be told the facts, and know his own attitude. He might well need +their assistance in the future, as they, in the past, had needed the +Padre's. + +"I take it you mean that, Beasley," he said without warmth. Then, +ignoring the man, he turned to those gathered about him. "I don't know +how Beasley's got this thing, fellers," he said, in his simple +fashion. "It don't matter, anyway. I hadn't a notion the sheriff was +comin' along yet, either. That don't matter. Anyways I guessed he +would be comin' sooner or later, an' that's the reason I'm layin' in +stores of gun stuff an' things. Yes, he's comin' for the Padre on a +charge of murder, a low-down charge of murder that he never committed. +You know the ways of the law, an' how things sure go in such rackets. +The charge is nigh twenty years old. Wal, maybe it'll be nigh +impossible for him to prove he didn't do it. It looks that way. +Anyways, I tell you right here, ther' ain't no sheriff in this country +goin' to git him while I'm alive. He's raised me from a starvin' kid, +an' he's bin the biggest thing on earth to me, an' I'm goin' to see +him through. You fellers, some o' you, know the Padre. You know what +he's done right here to help folks when they were starvin'. He even +sold his farm to help. Sold it right out, an' give up twenty years' +work to hand grub to empty bellies. Wal, they want him fer murder. +Him, the best and straightest man I ever knew. I ain't got nothin' +more to say 'cept Beasley's right--the sheriff's comin'. An' when he +comes he'll find the hills hotter than hell fer him, an' I'll have a +hand in makin' 'em that way." He turned abruptly to Beasley, and +pointed at the paper lying on the counter. "You'll do them things for +me, an' I'll get 'em to-morrow." + +He turned away, flinging his farewell back over his shoulder as he +reached the door. + +"So long, fellers," he cried, and pushed his way out. + +The moment he had gone every tongue was let loose. The gamblers cashed +their "chips" at the bar. There was no more play that afternoon. +Excitement ran high, and discussion was at fever heat. To a man those +who knew the Padre, and those who didn't, commended Buck's attitude. +And amongst the older hands of the camp was an ardent desire to take a +hand in resisting the law. Beasley was in agreement with nearly +everybody. He expressed a wonderful fury at the absurdity and +injustice, as he described it, of the charge. And, finally, he +possessed himself of the floor again for the purposes of his own +subtle scheming. + +"What did I tell you, fellers?" he cried, when he had obtained a +general hearing. "What did I tell you?" he reiterated in a fine fury. +"I don't like him, but Buck's a man. A straight, bully feller. He's +goin' to do the right thing. He'll stand by that Padre feller while +he's got a breath in his body, an' he'll shoot the sheriff up as sure +as sure. An' why? Because that feller, the Padre, sold his farm to +help us old hands. Because he sold his farm to that 'Jonah' gal, who's +brought all this trouble about. If she hadn't come around Pete an' Ike +would have bin living now. If she hadn't come around the Padre +wouldn't be wanted for a murder he never committed. If she hadn't come +around Buck wouldn't have set himself up agin the law, an' found +himself chasin' the country over--an outlaw. D'yer see it? You're +blind if you don't." He brought his clenched fist down on the counter +in a whirlwind of indignation. "She's got to go," he cried. "I tell +you, she's got to go. Chase her out. Burn her out. Get rid of her from +here. An' I got five hundred dollars says--do it." + +Beasley knew his men. And in every eye he saw that they were with him +now. Nor could anything have pleased him more than when Curly shouted +his sudden sympathy. + +"Beasley's right, boys," he cried. "She's brought the rotten luck. She +must go. Who's to say whose turn it'll be next?" + +"Bully for you," cried Beasley. "Curly's hit it. Who's the next victim +of the rotten luck of this Golden Woman?" + +His final appeal carried the day. The men shouted a general approval, +and Beasley reveled inwardly in his triumph. He had played his hand +with all the skill at his command--and won. And now he was satisfied. +He knew he had started the ball rolling. It would grow. In a few hours +the majority of the camp would be with him. Then, when the time came, +he would play them for his own ends, and so pay off all his old +scores. + +The Padre would be taken. He would see to that. The sheriff should +know every detail of Buck's intentions. Buck would ultimately be +taken--after being outlawed. And Joan--the proud beauty whom Buck was +in love with--well, if she got out with her life it would be about all +she would escape with. + +Beasley felt very happy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE MOVING FINGER + + +The Padre stood at the top of the steps and looked out over the wide +stretching valley below him. His long day was drawing to a close, but +he felt no weariness of body. There was a weariness of mind, a +weariness of outlook. There was something gray and cold and hopeless +upon his horizon, something which left him regretful of all that which +lay within his view now. + +There was a half smile in his eyes, as, for a moment, they rested on +the narrow indistinct trail which looked so far below him. He was +thinking of that apparition he had met only a few days back, the +apparition which had suddenly leapt out of his past. It was all very +strange, very wonderful, the working of those mysterious things which +make it certain that no page in a human creature's life can be turned +once and for all. + +Yes, it was all very wonderful. The hand of Fate had begun to move +against him when he had greeted that starving fragment of humanity at +the trail-side, more than twenty years ago. It had moved steadily +since then in every detail of his life. It had been progressing in the +work he had done in the building of his farm. Its moving finger had +pointed every day of Buck's young life. In the necessities of those +poor gold-seekers it had shown its unerring direction, even in the +spirit which had prompted him to help them, which involved the +selling of his farm. + +Then he saw its bitter irony. It had done its work by bringing Joan +into contact with Buck, and, with cruel derision, had shown him how +unnecessary his sacrifice had been. Then had come all those other +things, moving so swiftly that it was almost impossible to count each +step in the iron progress of the moving finger. It had come with an +overwhelming rush which swept him upon its tide like a feather upon +the bosom of the torrent. And now, caught in the whirling rapids below +the mighty falls, he could only await the completion of the sentence +so long since pronounced. + +The smile broadened, spreading gently across his face. He realized he +was admitting all he had denied to Joan. But the thought brought him +no weakening. The wisdom of years had taught him much that must not be +communicated to a younger generation. Life would teach them in their +turn; they must not learn the truths which lay before them before +their time. It was better to lie than to destroy the hope of youth. + +His conscience was clear, his resolve perfect in its steadiness. The +happiness of two people was at stake. For Buck he would give up all. +There was no sacrifice too great. For Joan--she was the fair daughter +of his oldest friend. His duty was clear by her. There was one course, +and one course only that he could see for himself. To remove the last +shadow from these young lives he must face the ordeal which lay before +him. What its outcome might be he could not quite see, but he was not +without hope. There were certain details surrounding the death of his +friend which did not fit in with his guilt. He had no weapon upon him +in that house. Nor was there the least reason for the crime. He knew +he would be confronted by the evidence of a woman who hated him, a +woman capable of manufacturing evidence to suit her own ends. But, +whatever else she might do, she could not produce a weapon belonging +to him, nor could she invent a reason for the crime that could not be +disproved. At least this was the hope he clung to. + +However, he knew that he could not leave the shadow of his possible +guilt to cloud the lives of these two, just setting out on their long +journey together. The possibilities of it for harm were far too great. +The ocean of hot, youthful love was far too possible of disaster for +an unnecessary threat to overshadow it. + +No, he had refused the request of these two from the first moment when +he had realized his duty by them, and now, after careful thought, his +resolve remained unshaken. + +Still, he was not without regret as he gazed out over that vast world +he had learned to love so well. The thought of possibly never seeing +it again hurt him. The wide valleys, the fair, green pastures, the +frowning, mysterious woods with their utter silence, the butting crags +with their barren crests, or snow-clad shoulders. They held him in a +thrall of almost passionate devotion. They would indeed be hard to +part with. + +He looked away down the gaping jaws of the valley at the black crest +of Devil's Hill. It was a point that never failed to attract him, and +now more so than ever. Was it not round this hill that all his past +efforts had been concentrated? + +He studied it. Its weirdness held him. A heavy mist enveloped its +crown, that steaming mist which ever hung above the suspended lake. +It was denser now than usual. It had been growing denser for the last +two days, and, in a vague way, he supposed that those internal fires +which heated the water were glowing fiercer than usual. He glanced up +at the sky, and almost for the first time realized the arduous efforts +of the westering sun to penetrate the densely humid atmosphere. It was +stiflingly hot, when usually the air possessed a distinct chill. + +But these things possessed only a passing interest. The vagaries of +the mountain atmosphere rarely concerned him. His vigorous body was +quite impervious to its changes. He picked up his "catch" of pelts and +shouldered them. They were few enough, and as he thought of the +unusual scarcity of foxes the last few days he could not help feeling +that the circumstance was only in keeping with the rest of the passing +events of his life. + +He made his way along the foot-path which wound its way through the +pine bluff, in the midst of which the old fur fort lay hidden inside +its mouldering stockade. He flung the pelts into the storeroom, and +passed on to the house, wondering if Buck had returned from the camp, +whither he knew he had been that day. + +He found him busy amidst a pile of stores spread out upon the floor +and table, and a mild surprise greeted the youngster as he looked +round from his occupation. + +"You never said--you were getting stores, Buck?" + +The Padre eyed the pile curiously. Finally his eyes paused at the +obvious ammunition cases. + +Buck followed the direction of his gaze. + +"No," he said; and turned again to his work of bestowing the goods in +the places he had selected for them. + +The Padre crossed the room and sat down. Then he leisurely began to +exchange his moccasins for a pair of comfortable house-shoes. + +"Had we run short?" he asked presently. + +"No." + +Buck's manner was touched with something like brusqueness. + +"Then--why?" + +Buck straightened up, bearing in his arms an ammunition box. + +"Because we may need 'em," he said, and bestowed the box under the +settle with a kick. + +"I don't get you--that's revolver ammunition you just put away." + +"Yes." + +Buck continued his work until the room was cleared. The other watched +him interestedly. Then as the younger man began to prepare their +supper the Padre again reverted to it. + +"Maybe you'll tell me about 'em--now?" he said, with his easy smile. + +Buck had just set the kettle on the stove. He stood up, and a frown of +perplexity darkened his brow. + +"Maybe I won't be able to get to camp again," he said. "Maybe we'll +need 'em for another reason." + +"What other?" + +"The sheriff's comin'. That woman's sent for him. I've figgered out he +can't get along till 'bout to-morrow night, or the next mornin'. +Anyway it don't do to reckon close on how quick a sheriff can git +doin'." + +The Padre's smile had died out of his eyes. He sighed. + +"The sheriff's coming, eh?" Then he went on after a pause. "But these +stores--I don't see----" + +A dark flame suddenly lit Buck's eyes, but though he broke in quickly +it was without the heat that was evidently stirring within him. + +"They're for Joan, an' me--an' you. When the time comes guess we're +going where no sheriff can follow us, if you don't make trouble. I +don't guess you need tellin' of the valley below us. You know it, an' +you know the steps. You know the canyon away on toward Devil's Hill. +That's the way we're goin'--when the time comes. An' I'd say there +ain't no sheriff or dep'ties'll care to follow us through that canyon. +After that we cut away north. Ther's nobody can follow our trail that +way." + +Something almost of defiance grew into his voice as he proceeded. He +was expecting denial, and was ready to resist it with all his force. + +The Padre shook his head. + +"Buck, Buck, this is madness--rank madness," he cried. "To resist the +law in the way your hot head dictates is to outlaw yourselves beyond +all redemption. You don't understand what you are doing. You don't +know to what you are condemning this little Joan. You don't know how +surely your methods will condemn _me_." + +But Buck was on fire with rebellion against the injustice of a +law which claimed the Padre as its victim. He saw the hideous +possibilities following upon his friend's arrest, and was determined +to give his life in the service of his defense. + +"It's not madness," he declared vehemently. "It's justice, real +justice that we should defend our freedom. If you wer' guilty, Padre, +it would be dead right to save yourself. It's sure the right of +everything to save its life. If you're innocent you sure got still +more right. Padre, I tell you they mean to fix you. That woman's got +a cinch she ain't lettin' go. She's lived for this time, Joan's told +me. She'll raise plumb hell to send you to your death. Padre, just +listen to us. It's me an' Joan talkin' now. What I say she says. We +can see these things different to you; we're young. You say it's your +duty to give up to this woman. We say it's our duty you _shan't_. If +you give up to her you're giving up to devil's mischief, an' that's +dead wrong. An' nothin' you can say can show me you got a right to +help devil's work. We'll light out of here before they come. Us three. +If you stop here, we stop too, an' that's why I got the ammunition. +More than that. Ther's others, too, won't see you taken. Ther's +fellers with us in the camp--fellers who owe you a heap--like I do." + +The Padre watched the steam rising from the kettle with moody eyes. +The youngster was tempting him sorely. He knew Buck's determination, +his blind loyalty. He felt that herein lay his own real danger. Yes, +to bolt again, as he had done that time before, would be an easy way +out. But its selfishness was too obvious. He could not do it. To do so +would be to drag them in his train of disaster, to blight their lives +and leave them under the grinding shadow of the law. + +No, it could not be. + +"Looked at from the way you look at it, there is right enough in what +you say, boy," he said kindly. "But you can't look at civilized life +as these mountains teach you to look at things. When the sheriff comes +I yield to arrest, and I trust in God to help us all. My mind is made +up." + +For some moments Buck stared down at the sturdy friend who had taken +the place of his dead father. His eyes softened, and their fire died +out. But there was no rescinding of his desperate decision. He was +thinking of what it would mean, the thought of this white-haired man +in the hands of the executioner. He was thinking of the kindly heart +beating within that stalwart bosom. He was thinking of the wonderful, +thoughtful kindness for others which was always the motive of his +life. And a deep-throated curse rose to his lips. But it found no +utterance. It could not in that presence. + +"An' my mind's made up," he jerked out at last, with concentrated +force. Then he added with an abrupt softening, "Let's eat, Padre. I +was forgettin'. Mebbe you're hungry some." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE JOY OF BEASLEY + + +An unusual number of horses were tethered at the posts outside +Beasley's saloon, and, a still more unusual thing, their owners, for +the most part, were not in their usual places within the building. +Most of them were lounging on the veranda in various attitudes best +calculated to rest them from the effects of the overpowering heat of +the day. Beasley was lounging with them. For once he seemed to have +weakened in his restless energy, or found something of greater +interest than that of netting questionable gains. + +The latter seemed to be the more likely, for his restless eyes +displayed no lack of mental activity. At any rate, he displayed an +attitude that afternoon which startled even his bartender. Not once, +but several times that individual, of pessimistic mood, had been +called upon to dispense free rations of the worst possible liquor in +the place, until, driven from wonder to protest, he declared, with +emphatic conviction and an adequate flow of blasphemy, addressing +himself to the bottles under the counter, the smeary glasses he +breathed upon while wiping with a soiled and odoriferous cloth, that +the boss was "bug--plumb bug." Nevertheless, his own understanding of +"crookedness" warned him that the man had method, and he was anxious +to discover the direction in which it was moving. Therefore he +watched Beasley's doings with appreciative eyes, and his interest grew +as the afternoon waned. + +"He's on a crook lay," he told himself after a while. And the thought +brightened his outlook upon life, and helped to banish some of his +pessimism. + +The chief feature of interest for him lay in the fact that the men +foregathered were a collection of those who belonged to the +"something-for-nothing" class, as he graphically described them. And +he observed, too, that Beasley was carefully shepherding them. There +were a few of the older hands of the camp, but these seemed to have +less interest for his boss. At least he showed far less consideration +for them. And it quickly became evident that the whole afternoon's +object was the adequate ingratiation and stimulation of these dregs of +frontier life. + +This the bartender saw quite clearly. For the rest he was content to +wait. He had spent most of his life in thus waiting and watching the +nefarious schemes of unscrupulous men. + +The heat was overpowering. It was almost an effort to breathe, let +alone move about. The men lolled, propped against the baulks of timber +supporting the veranda roof, stretched out on benches, or crouching on +the raised edge of the wooden flooring. One and all were in a state of +wiltering in the stewing heat, from which only an intermittent flow of +fiery spirit could rouse them. + +Beasley was the one exception to this general condition of things. +Mentally he was particularly alert. And, what is more, his temper, +usually so irritable and fiery, was reduced to a perfect level of good +humor. + +For some moments talk had died out. Then in a sudden fit of +irritability Abe Allinson kicked a loose stone in the direction of the +tethered horses. + +"Say," he observed, "this 'minds one o' the time we struck color at +the hill." + +His eyes wandered toward the gathering shadows, slowly obscuring the +grim sides of Devil's Hill. His remark was addressed to no one in +particular. + +Beasley took him up. It was his purpose to keep these men stirring. + +"How?" he inquired. + +"Why, the heat. Say, git a peek at that sky. Look yonder. The sun. Get +them durned banks o' cloud swallerin' it right up atop o' them hills. +Makes you think, don't it? That's storm. It's comin' big--an' before +many hours." + +"For which we'll all be a heap thankful." Beasley laughed. "Another +day of this an' I'll be done that tender a gran'ma could eat me." + +His remark drew a flicker of a smile. + +"She'd need good ivories," observed the gambler, Diamond Jack, with +mild sarcasm. + +Beasley took the remark as a compliment to his business capacity, and +grinned amiably. + +"Jack's right. You'd sure give her an elegant pain, else," added +Curly, in a tired voice. He was steadily staring down the trail in a +manner that suggested indifference to any coming storm. Somebody +laughed half-heartedly. But Curly had no desire to enliven things, and +went on quite seriously. + +"Say, when's this bum sheriff gettin' around?" he demanded. + +Beasley took him up at once. + +"Some time to-night," he said, in a well-calculated tone of +resentment. "That's why I got you boys around now," he added +significantly. + +"You mean----?" Diamond Jack nodded in the direction of the farm. + +Beasley nodded. + +"That old crow bait got back early this mornin'," he went on. "I was +waitin' on her. She guessed she hadn't a thing to say, an' I surely +was up agin a proposition. So I jest made out I was feelin' good +seein' her git back, an' told her I wa'an't lookin' for information +she didn't guess she was givin', and ther' wasn't no need fer her to +say a thing. She guessed that was so. After that I passed things by, +sayin' how some o' the boys hated sheriffs wuss'n rattlesnakes--an' +she laffed. Yes, sir, she laffed, an' it must have hurt her some. +Anyways she opened out at that, an' said, if any boys hated the sight +of sheriffs they'd better hunt their holes before sun-up. Guess she +didn't just use them words, but she give 'em that time limit. Say, if +I was the Padre I'd sooner have the devil on my trail than that +old--bunch o' marrow bones." + +Slaney looked up from the bench on which he was spread out. + +"Guess he'll have wuss'n her when Bob Richards gets around," he said +gloomily. + +"D'you reckon they'll git him--with Buck around?" inquired Curly +anxiously. + +"Buck! Tcha!" Beasley's dislike for the moment got the better of his +discretion. But he quickly realized his mistake, and proceeded to +twist his meaning. "It makes me mad. It makes me plumb crazed when I +think o' that bully feller, the Padre, bein' give dead away by the +folks at the farm. Buck? Psha'! Who's Buck agin a feller like Bob +Richards? Bob's the greatest sheriff ever stepped in Montana. He'll +twist Buck so he won't know rye whisky from sow-belly. Buck's grit, +elegant grit, but Bob--wal, I'd say he's the wisest guy west of +Chicago, when it comes to stringin' up a crook." + +"I'm with you, boss," cried Diamond Jack, in a quick rage. "This farm +needs lookin' to to-night sure. We got to git in 'fore sheriffs git +around. They're playin' a low-down racket. Jonahs don't cut no ice +with me, but they're chasin' up glory agin the camp. That's how I read +it. Guess none of us is saints, anyways I don't seem to hear no wings +flappin'; but givin' folks up to the law is--low." + +Abe Allinson grunted, and a general atmosphere of silent approval +prevailed. Beasley, whose eyes were watching every expression, pushed +the ball further along. + +"Low?" he cried. "You, Jack, don't know the guy we're so dead keen to +help out. If you did you'd git right up on to your hind legs an' cuss +terrible--an' you've cussed some in your time. But for him this camp +wouldn't be the bonanza it is. You wouldn't be nettin' a pile of +dollars every night in my bar. I wouldn't be runnin' a big proposition +in dollar makin'. These boys wouldn't be chasin' gold on full bellies. +Gee, it makes me mad--an' thirsty. Let's get around inside an' see +what that glass rustler of mine can do." + +The response was immediate and complete. No man had ever been known to +refuse Beasley's hospitality. Everybody drank. And they drank again at +Diamond Jack's expense. Then later they drank at their own. And all +the while Beasley, with consummate skill, shepherded them to his own +ends. + +It was truly wonderful to see the manner in which he handled them. He +adopted the simplest tactics, once he had set the ball rolling, +contenting himself with dropping in a word here and there every time +the subject of the sheriff drifted toward his ears. He knew these men. +He possessed that keenness of insight into his customers which no +successful saloon-keeper fails to acquire. He understood their +weaknesses in a manner which left it a simple enough task to play upon +them. In this case the basis of his procedure was drink--strong, harsh +whisky, of a violent type. + +The banking clouds rose ponderously upon the hilltops, blacking out +the twilight with an abruptness which must have held deep significance +for men less occupied. But the dominant overcast of their minds was +the coming of the sheriff. For many of them it was far more ominous +than any storm of nature. + +The bar filled to overflowing. No one cared to gamble. There would +have been no room for them, anyway. Even Diamond Jack showed no +inclination to pursue his trade. Perhaps this was the most significant +feature of all. + +His was a weighty word thrown in the balance of public opinion. +Perhaps this was the result of his well-understood shrewdness. At any +rate he never failed to find a ready audience for his opinions, and +to-night his opinions were strongly and forcefully declared. Beasley +listened to him with interest, and smiled as he observed him moving +about amongst the crowd drinking with one, treating another, his +tongue never idle in his denunciation of sheriffs, and all those who +called in their aid. It almost seemed as if the man was acting under +orders, orders, perhaps inspired by a subtler mind, to disguise the +real source whence they sprang. + +The gambler was truly a firebrand, and so well did he handle his +people, so well did he stir them by his disgust and righteous horror +at the employment of a sheriff in their midst, that by nine o'clock +the camp was loud in its clamor for retribution to be visited upon +those who had brought such a terror into their midst. + +Beasley's amiability grew. His bartender watched it in amazement. But +it oppressed him. His pessimism resented it. He hated joy, and the +evidences of joy in others. There was real pleasure for him in Diamond +Jack's hectoring denunciations. It was something which appealed to +him. Besides, he could see the gambler was harassed, perhaps afraid of +the sheriff himself. He even envied him his fear. But Beasley's +satisfaction was depressing, and, as a protest, he neglected to +overcharge the more drunken of their customers. Beasley must not have +all the satisfaction. + +But, as far as Beasley was concerned, the bartender was little better +than a piece of furniture that night. His employer had almost +forgotten his existence. Truth to tell, Beasley had lost his head in +his disease of venom. One thought, and one thought only urged him. +To-night, before the advent of the sheriff to seize upon the person of +the hated Padre, he hoped, by one stroke, to crush the heart of Buck, +and bow the proud head of the girl who had so plainly showed her +dislike and contempt for him, in the dust of shame and despair. + +It was a moment worth waiting for. It was a moment of joy he would not +lightly forego. Nor did he care what time, patience, or money it cost +him. To strike at those whom he hated was as the breath of life to +him. And he meant to drink deeply of his cup of joy. + +His moment came. It came swiftly, suddenly, like most matters of great +import. His opportunity came at the psychological moment, when the +last shred of temperance had been torn from wild, lawless hearts, +which, in such moments, were little better than those of savage +beasts. It came when the poison of complaint and bitterness had at +last searched out the inmost recesses of stunted, brutalized minds. +And Beasley snatched at it hungrily, like a worm-ridden dog will +snatch at the filthiest offal. + +The drunken voice of Abe Allinson lifted above the general din. He was +lolling against one end of the counter, isolated from his fellows by +reason of his utterly stupefied condition. He was in a state when he +no longer had interest for his companions. He rolled about blear-eyed +and hopelessly mumbling, with a half-emptied glass in his hand, which +he waved about uncertainly. Suddenly an impotent spasm of rage seemed +to take hold of him. With a hoarse curse he raised his glass and +hurled it crashing against the wall. Then, with a wild, prolonged +whoop he shouted the result of his drunken cogitations. + +"We'll burn 'em! Drown 'em! Shoot 'em! Hang 'em! Come on, fellers, +foller me!" + +He made a staggering effort to leave his support. He straightened up. +For a moment he poised, swaying. Then he pitched forward on his face +and lay stretched full length upon the floor. + +But all had heard. And Beasley snatched at his opportunity. He sprang +upon the counter in the moment of astonished quiet, and, before +tongues broke loose again, he had the whole attention of the crowd. + +"Here, boys," he cried. "Abe's right. Drunk as he is, he's right. Only +he sure wants to do too much--more than his legs'll let him." He +grinned. "We're goin' to do this thing right now. But we're goin' to +do it like good citizens of a dandy city. We ain't goin' to act like a +gang of lynchers. We're dealin' with a gal, with gold ha'r an' blue +eyes, an' we're goin' to deal accordin'. We ain't lookin' fer her +life. That's too easy, an', wal--she's a woman. No, we're goin' to rid +this place of her an' all her tribe. We're goin' to make it so she +can't stop to do no more harm, bringin' sheriffs around. We're goin' +to burn her home right out, an' we're goin' to set her in her wagon +an' team, an' let her drive to hell out of here. We're goin' to do it +right now, before the sheriff gets busy along here. After that we'll +be too late. Are you game? Who's comin'? We're goin' to burn that +Jonah farm till ther' ain't a stick left above ground to say it ever +stood there. That's what we're goin' to do, an' I'm the man who'll +start the bonfire. Say, we'll make it like a fourth o' July. We'll +have one royal time--an' we'll be quit of all Jonahs." + +As he finished speaking he leapt to the ground amidst the crowd. Nor +did he need to wait to hear the response to his appeal. It came in one +of those unanimous, drunken roars, only to be heard in such a place, +at such a time, or on a battle-field, when insensate fury demands a +raucous outlet. Every man in the place, lost, for the moment, to all +the dictates of honest manhood, was ready to follow the leadership of +one whom, in sober moments, they all disliked. It was an extraordinary +exhibition of the old savage which ever lies so near the surface in +men upon the fringe of civilization. + +Nor did Beasley give them time to think. His orders came rapidly. The +bartender, for once his eyes sparkling at the thought of trouble about +to visit an unsuspecting fellow-creature, hurled himself to the task +of dealing out one large final drink to everybody. Then when a +sufficient supply of materials of an inflammatory nature had been +gathered together, the saloon-keeper placed himself at the head of his +men, supported by the only too willing Diamond Jack, and the +procession started out. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +STRONGER THAN DEATH + + +From the time of her aunt's going to Leeson Butte to the morning of +her return to the farm Joan passed through a nightmare of uncertainty +and hopelessness. Every moment of her time seemed unreal. Her very +life seemed unreal. It was as though her mind were detached from her +body, and she was gazing upon the scenes of a drama in which she had +no part, while yet she was weighted down with an oppressive fear of +the tragedy which she knew was yet to come. + +Every moment she felt that the threat of disaster was growing. That it +was coming nearer and nearer, and that now no power on earth could +avert it. + +Twice only during that dreary interval of waiting she saw Buck. But +even his presence did little more than ease her dread and despair, +leaving it crushing her down the more terribly with the moment of his +going. He came to her with his usual confidence, but it was only with +information of his own preparations for his defense of his friend. She +could listen to them, told in his strong, reliant manner, with hope +stirring her heart and a great, deep love for the man thrilling her +every nerve. But with his going came the full realization of the +significance of the necessity of such preparations. The very +recklessness of them warned her beyond doubt how small was the chance +of the Padre's escape. Buck had declared his certainty of outwitting +the law, even if it necessitated using force against the man whom he +intended to save. + +Left to her own resources Joan found them weak enough. So weak indeed +that at last she admitted to herself that the evidences of the curse +that had dogged her through life were no matters of distorted +imagination. They were real enough. Terribly real. And the admission +found her dreading and helpless. She knew she had gone back to the +fatal obsession, which, aided by the Padre and her lover, she had so +loyally contended. She knew in those dark moments she was weakly +yielding. These men had come into her life, had sown fresh seeds of +promise, but they had been sown in soil choked with weeds of +superstition, and so had remained wholly unfruitful. + +How could it be otherwise? Hard upon the heels of Buck's love had come +this deadly attack of fate upon him and his. The miracle of it was +stupendous. It had come in a way that was utterly staggering. It had +come, not as with those others who had gone before, but out of her +life. It had come direct from her and hers. And the disaster +threatened was not merely death but disgrace, disgrace upon a good +man, even upon her lover, which would last as long as they two had +life. + +The sense of tragedy merged into the maddening thought of the +injustice of it. It was monstrous. It was a tyranny for which there +was no justification, and it goaded her to the verge of hysteria. +Whatever she did now the hand of fate would move on irrevocably +fulfilling its purpose to the bitter end. She knew it. In spite of all +Buck's confidence, all his efforts to save his friend, the disaster +would be accomplished, and her lover would be lost to her in the +vortex of her evil destiny. + +Fool--fool that she had been. Wicked even, yes, wicked, that she had +not foreseen whither her new life was drifting. It was for her to have +anticipated the shoals of trouble in the tide of Buck's strong young +life. It was for her to have prevented the mingling of their lives. It +was for her to have shut him out of her thoughts and denied him access +to the heart that beat so warmly for him. She had been weak, so weak. +On every count she had failed to prove the strength she had believed +herself to possess. It was a heart-breaking thought. + +But she loved. It would have been impossible to have denied her love. +She would not have denied it if she could. Her rebellion against her +fate now carried her further. She had the right to love this man. She +had the right which belongs to every woman in the world. And he +desired her love. He desired it above all things in the world--and he +had no fear. + +Then the strangeness of it. With all that had gone before she had had +no misgivings until the moment he had poured out all the strength of +his great love into her yearning ears. She had not recognized the +danger besetting them. She had not paused to ask a question of +herself, to think of the possibilities. She loved him, and the thought +of his love thrilled her even now amidst all her despair. But the +moment his words of love had been spoken, even with the first +wonderful thrill of joy had come the reality of awakening. Then--then +it was that the evil of her fate had unmasked itself and showed its +hideous features, leering, mocking, in the memory of what had gone +before, taunting her for her weakly efforts to escape the doom marked +out for her. + +All this she thought of in her black moments. All this and far, far +more than could ever take shape in words. And her terror of what was +to come became unspeakable. But through it all one thing, one gleam of +hope obtruded itself. It was not a tangible hope. It was not even a +hope that could have found expression. It was merely a picture that +ever confronted her, even when darkness seemed most nearly to +overwhelm her. + +It was the picture of Buck's young face, full of strength and +confidence. Somehow the picture was always one of hope. It caught no +reflection of her own trouble, but lived in her memory undiminished by +any despair, however black. + +Once or twice she found herself wondering at it. Sometimes she felt it +to be merely a trick of memory to taunt her with that which could +never be, and so she tried to shut out the vague hopes it aroused. +But, as time went on, and the hour for her aunt's return drew near, +the recurrence of the picture became so persistent that it was rarely +out of her mental vision. It was a wonderful thought. She saw him as +she had seen him when first he laughed her threat of disaster and +death to scorn. She could never forget that moment. She could hear his +laugh now, that laugh, so full of youthful courage, which had rung +through the old barn. + +Pondering thus her mind suddenly traveled back to something which, in +the midst of all her tribulations, had completely passed out of her +recollection. She was startled. She was startled so that she gasped +with the sudden feeling it inspired. What was it? Something her aunt +had said. Yes, she remembered now. And with memory the very words came +back to her, full of portentous meaning. And as they rushed pell-mell +through her straining brain a great uplifting bore her toward that +hope which she suddenly realized was not yet dead. + +"Go you and find a love so strong that no disaster can kill it. And +maybe life may still have some compensations for you, maybe it will +lift the curse from your suffering shoulders. It--it is the only thing +in the world that is stronger than disaster. It is the only thing in +the world that is stronger than--death." + +They were her aunt's words spoken in the vehemence of her prophetic +passion. It was the one thing, she had warned her, that could save +her. + +Was this the love she had found? Was this the love to lead her to +salvation--this wonderful love of Buck's? Was this that which was to +leave life some compensations? Was this that which was stronger than +disaster--than death? Yes, yes! Her love was her life. And now without +it she must die. Yes, yes! Buck--young, glorious in his courage and +strength. He was stronger than disaster, and their love--was it not +stronger than death? + +From the moment of this wonderful recollection, a gentle calm +gradually possessed her. The straining of those two long wakeful +nights, the nightmare of dread which had pursued her into the daylight +hours, left her with a sudden ease of thought she had never hoped to +find again. It all came back to her. Her aunt had told her whither she +must seek the key that would unlock the prison gates of fate, and all +inadvertently she had found it. + +In Buck's love must lay her salvation. With that stronger than death +no disaster could come. He was right, and she was all wrong. He had +laughed them to scorn--she must join in his laugh. + +So at last came peace. The last wakeful night before the morning of +her aunt's return terminated in a few hours of refreshing, much-needed +slumber. Hope had dawned, and the morrow must bring the morrow's +events. She would endeavor to await them with something of the +confidence which supported Buck. + + * * * * * + +The room was still, so still that its atmosphere might have been +likened to the night outside, which was heavy with the presage of +coming storm. There was a profound feeling of opposing forces at work, +yet the silence remained undisturbed. + +It was nearly nine o'clock, and the yellow lamplight shed its soft +monotony over the little parlor, revealing the occupants of the room +in attitudes of tense concentration, even antagonism. Mercy Lascelles +swayed slowly to and fro in the new rocking-chair Joan had purchased +for her comfort. Her attenuated figure was huddled down in that +familiar attitude which the girl knew so well, but her face wore an +expression which Joan had never beheld before. + +Usually her hard eyes were coldly unsmiling. Now they +smiled--terribly. Usually her thin cheeks were almost dead white in +their pallor. Now they were flushed and hectic with a suggestion of +the inward fire that lit her eyes. The harsh mouth was irrevocably +set, till nose and chin looked as though they soon must meet, while +the hideous dark rings showed up the cruel glare of her eyes, which +shone diabolically. + +Joan stood some paces away. She was looking down aghast at the +crouching figure, and her eyes were horrified. This was the first she +had seen of her relative since her return that morning. The old woman +had shut herself up in her bedroom, refusing to speak, or to eat, all +day. But now she had emerged from her seclusion, and Joan had been +forced to listen to the story of her journey. + +It was a painful story, and still more painfully told. It was full of +a cruel enjoyment such as never in her life Joan had believed this +woman capable of. Her eccentricities were many, her nervous tendencies +strange and often weird, but never had such a side of her character as +she now presented been allowed to rise to the surface. + +At first Joan wondered as she listened. She wondered at the fierce +purpose which underlaid this weakly body. But with each passing +moment, with each fresh detail of her motives and methods, her wonder +deepened to a rapidly growing conviction which filled her with horror +and repulsion. She told herself that the woman was no longer sane. At +last she had fallen a victim to her racked and broken nerves, as the +doctors had prophesied. To them, and to the everlasting brooding upon +her disappointments and injuries for all these long years. + +This she felt, and yet the feeling conveyed no real conviction to her +mind. All she knew was that loathing and repulsion stirred her, until +the thought revolted her that she was breathing the same air as one +who could be capable of such vicious cruelty. But she struggled to +stifle all outward sign. And though she was only partly successful she +contrived to keep her words calm, even if her eyes, those windows of +her simple girl's soul, would not submit to such control. + +"I'm over fifty now, girl," Mercy finished up, in a low suppressed +tone, husky with feeling, yet thrilling with a cruel triumph. "Over +fifty, and, for the last twenty and more years of it, I have waited +for this moment. I have waited with a patience you can never +understand because you have never been made to suffer as I have. But I +knew it would come. I have known it every day of those twenty years, +because I have read it in that book in which I have read so many +things which concern human life. I was robbed of life years and years +ago. Yes, life. I have been a dead woman these twenty years. My life +was gone when your father died, leaving you, another woman's child, in +my hands. God in heaven! Sometimes I wonder why I did not strangle the +wretched life out of you years ago--you, another woman's child, but +yet with Charles Stanmore's blood in your veins. Perhaps it was +because of that I spared your life. Perhaps it was because I read your +fate, and knew you had to suffer, that I preferred my sister's child +should reap the reward of her mother's crime--yes, crime. Perhaps it +was that while Charles Stanmore lived my hopes and longings were still +capable of fulfilment. But he is dead--dead years and years ago. And +with his death my life went out too. Now there is only revenge. No, +not revenge," she laughed, "justice to be dealt out. That justice it +is my joy to see dispensed. That justice it is my joy to feel that my +hand has brought its administering about. + +"I have laid all the information necessary. I have a lawyer in Leeson +Butte in communication with my man in New York. And--and the sheriff +and his men will be here before daylight. Oh, yes, I can afford to +tell you now that the work is accomplished. You shall have no +opportunity of communicating with your friends. I shall not sleep +to-night. Nor will you leave this house. There is a means of holding +you here. A means which will never be far from my hand." She tapped +the bosom of her dress significantly, and Joan understood that she had +armed herself. "The arrest will be made while they are still sleeping +in that old fort of theirs--and your young Buck will pay the penalty +if he interferes. Yes, yes," she added, rubbing her lean, almost +skeleton hands together in an access of satisfaction, "when you sip +your coffee in the morning, my girl, your Buck's foster-father will be +on his way to the jail from which he will only emerge for the comfort +of an electric chair. I have endured twenty years of mental torture, +but--I have not endured them in vain." + +The cold, consummate completeness with which the woman detailed her +carefully considered plans turned Joan's heart to stone. It chilled +her and left her shivering in the awful heat. For one moment, one weak +moment when her woman's spirit quailed before the deadly array of +facts, she felt faint, and one hand sought the table for support. But +with a tremendous effort she recovered herself. It was the thought of +Buck which helped her. She could not let him fall into the trap so +well laid by this--this creature, without an effort to save them both. +In a flash her mind pictured the scene of the Padre's capture. She saw +the fort surrounded by the "deputies." She saw the Padre shackled +before he could rise from his blankets. She saw Buck, under cover of +ruthless firearms, hurl himself to the rescue and pay for his temerity +with his life. In a sudden overwhelming passion of appeal she flung +herself on her knees before the terrible old woman. + +"Aunt, aunt!" she cried. "You cannot be so heartless, so cruel. There +is a mistake. You are mistaken. The Padre swears to his innocence, and +if you knew him as I know him, as all this countryside knows him, you +_must_ believe. He is not capable of murder. My father committed +suicide. Think, think of all that went before his death, and you, too, +will see that everything points to suicide. Oh, aunt, think of what +you are doing. The plans you have made _must_ involve the man I love. +A perfectly innocent man, as even you know. If my father was all your +world, so is Buck all mine. He will defend the Padre. I know him. And +as you say he will pay the penalty with his life. If you have one +grain of pity, if you have one remaining thought of love for my dead +father, then spare this man to his daughter. Where is the right that +you should involve Buck? You do not even know him. Oh, aunt, you have +lived all these twenty years with me. In your own way you have cared +for me. Sacrifice your enmity against this innocent man. It will give +you a peace of mind you have never known before, and will give me the +happiness of the man I love." + +Mercy's eyes lit with fine scorn as she caught at Joan's final words. + +"The happiness of the man you love!" she cried with passionate anger, +"Why should I give you your man's love? Why should I help any woman to +a happiness I have never been allowed to taste? Perhaps it pleases me +to think that your Buck will be involved. Have I not warned you of the +disaster which you have permitted him to court? Listen, girl, not one +detail of all that which I have waited for will I forego. Not one +detail. When it is accomplished nothing on earth matters to me. The +sooner I am off it the better. The sooner I leave this world for +other realms the sooner I shall be able to pursue those others who +have injured me and passed on to--a fresh habitation. Do you +understand? Do you understand that I will brook no interference from +you? Peace, child, I want no more talk. When this night is over I +leave here--nor shall I ever willingly cross your path again. You are +another woman's child, and so long as you live, so long as we are +brought into contact, the sting of the past must ever remain in my +heart. Go to your bed, and leave me to watch and wait until the +morning." + +The old woman's domination was strong--it was so strong that Joan felt +appalled before the terrible mental force she was putting forth. The +horror of her diseased mind sickened her, and filled her with +something closely allied to terror. But she would not submit. Her love +was greater than her courage, her power to resist for herself. She was +thinking of those two men, but most of all she was thinking of Buck. +She was determined upon another effort. And when that effort was +spent--upon still another. + +"Listen to me, aunt," she cried with no longer any attempt at appeal, +with no longer any display of regard for this woman as a relation. "I +am mistress in my own house, and I shall do as I choose. I, too, shall +sit up and you will have to listen to me." + +Mercy smiled ironically. + +"Yes, you are mistress in your own house, so long as you do not +attempt to interfere with my plans. Sit up, girl, if you choose, and +talk. I am prepared to listen even though your twaddle bores me." + +A sound caught Joan's attention, and the desperate position of her +lover and his friend set thought flashing swiftly through her mind. +The sound was of Mrs. Ransford moving in the kitchen. + +"Then listen to this," she cried. "You have told me that I am cursed. +You have told me that death and disaster must follow me wherever I go. +I love Buck. It is the first and only time I shall ever love. I know +that. He is the love of my whole life. Without him, without his love, +life to me is inconceivable. He and his love are so precious to me +that I would give my life for his at any moment--now, if need be. I +want you to know that. You have armed yourself so that I shall not +interfere with your plans. I tell you it is useless, for I shall warn +him--cost me what it may." + +She watched the other closely. She watched for the effect of her +words--every one of which was spoken from the bottom of her heart. The +effect was what she anticipated. She knew this woman's expressed +intention was deliberate, and would be carried out. One hand moved +toward her lean bosom, and Joan knew, without doubt, what she had to +face. Turning her back deliberately she moved across to the window, +which was wide open in a vain attempt to cool the superheated room, +and took up her place near the table, so that she was in full view of +her aunt's insane eyes. Then she went on at once-- + +"You call it justice that you would mete out to the Padre. I tell you +it is a ruthless, cold-hearted revenge, which amounts to deliberate +murder. It is murder because you know he cannot prove his innocence. +That, perhaps, is your affair. But Buck's life is mine. And in +threatening the Padre you threaten him, because he will defend his +friend to the last. Perhaps by this, in your insane vanity, you hope +to justify yourself as a seer and prophetess, instead of being +forced to the admission that you are nothing but a mountebank, an +unscrupulous mountebank--and even worse. But I will humor you. I will +show you how your own words are coming back on you. I had almost +forgotten them, so lost was I in my foolish belief in your powers. You +told me there was salvation for me in a love that was stronger than +death. Well, I have found that love. And if, as you claim, there is +truth in your science, then I challenge you, the disaster and death +you would now bring about cannot--will not take place. You are only a +woman of earthly powers, a heartless creature, half demented by your +venomous hatred of a good man. Your ends can, and will be defeated." + +She paused, breathing hard with the emotion which the effort of her +denunciation had inspired, and in that pause she beheld a vision of +devilish hatred and purpose such as she could never have believed +possible in her aunt. + +"You would rebel! You challenge me!" cried Mercy, springing from her +chair with a movement almost unbelievable in so ailing a creature. +"You are mad--utterly mad. It is not I who am insane, but you--you. +You call me a mountebank. What has your life been? Has not everything +I have told you been part of it? Even here--here. Did I not tell you +you could not escape your curse? Have you escaped it? And you think +you can escape it now." She laughed suddenly, a hideous laugh which +set Joan shuddering. "The love you have found must prove itself. You +say it is the love that will save you. I tell you it is not. Nothing +can save this man now. Nothing can save your Buck if he interferes +now. Nothing can save you, if you interfere now. I tell you I have +taken every care that there is no loophole of escape. No earthly power +can serve you." + +"No earthly power?" Joan echoed the words unconsciously, while she +stood fascinated by that terrible face so working with malignant +hatred. + +But only for a moment it held her. Her love was stronger that all her +woman's fears. Her Buck was in danger, and that other. The warning. +She must get that warning to them. + +Suddenly she leant forward upon the table as though to emphasize what +she had to say. + +"Whatever happens to-night, aunt," she cried, her big eyes glowing in +a growing excitement, her red-gold hair shining like burnished copper +in the light from the lamp which was so near to it, "I hope God may +forgive you this terrible wicked spirit which is driving you. Some day +I may find it in my heart to forgive you. That which I have to do you +are driving me to, and I pray God I may succeed." + +As the last word left her lips she seized the lamp from the table, +and, with all her strength, hurled it through the open window. As it +sped it extinguished itself and crashed to the ground outside, leaving +the room in utter darkness. At the same instant she sprang to the sill +of the open window, and flung herself from the room. As she, too, fell +to the ground a shot rang out behind her, and she felt the bullet tear +through her masses of coiled hair. + +But her excitement was at fever heat. She waited for nothing. Her +lover's life was claiming every nerve in her body. His life, and that +other's. She scrambled to her feet and dodged clear of the window, +just as a chorus of harsh execration reached her ears. She looked +toward the barns and hay corrals whence the sound came, and, on the +instant, a hideous terror seized upon her. The barn was afire! The hay +had just been fired! And, in the inky blackness of the night, the +ruddy glow leapt suddenly and lit up the figures of a crowd of men, +now shouting and blaspheming at the result of the shot from the house. + +For one moment Joan stood still, trembling in every limb, heedless of +the vengeful creature behind her. She was overwhelmed by the now utter +and complete hopelessness of her case. Her horses were in the barn +which had been fired. And they were her only means of reaching her +lover. + +Then in a moment, as she beheld the shouting crowd coming toward the +house, voicing their intent to burn that, along with its occupants, +her mind went back to those still within. The wretched woman, whose +death by burning might save the Padre, and her rough but faithful +housekeeper. Regardless of all consequences to herself, now regardless +even of the lives of those two men she had hoped to save, she ran back +to the house. + +Flight alone could save the women inside from this drunken crowd. +Flight--and at once. For, resentful at the shot which had felled one +of their comrades, the lawless minds of these creatures saw but one +course to pursue. Well enough Joan knew their doctrine of a life for a +life. She must go back. She must save those two from this ravening +horde. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +THE TEMPEST BREAKS + + +Buck moved out of Cæsar's stall. He had just finished lightly securing +the double cinchas of his saddle. The bulging saddle-bags had been +made fast behind the cantle and the wallets strapped upon the horn. +Now the great animal was hungrily devouring an added feed of oats +which his master had poured into its manger. + +The man glanced over the equipments, and moved to the other end of the +stable, where stood the Padre's heavily built chestnut. It, too, was +ready saddled as though for a journey. Here again the saddle-bags and +wallets had been filled and adjusted. Here again the creature was +devouring an extra feed. + +Buck heaved a sigh of satisfaction and turned away to where the +lantern was hanging on a nail in the wooden wall. Close beside this a +belt, loaded down with revolver ammunition, and carrying two holsters +from which the butts of a pair of heavy revolvers protruded, was +suspended from another nail. This he took down and strapped about his +waist. + +His work for the night was done, and all his preparations made. The +night itself must direct the further course of action for him. As far +as he could see he had prepared for every possible development, but, +as he admitted to himself, he could only see from his own point of +view. He was at work against two opposing forces. There was the law +and Bob Richards on the one hand, and, on the other, the Padre, with a +determination equal to his own. Of the two, he felt that the +redoubtable Bob, backed by the law, would be far the easier to deal +with. + +This night, he anticipated, was to be the last he spent in that old +fort. He more than anticipated it; he felt certain. He had heard early +in the day of the return of Joan's Aunt Mercy, and this was an +all-sufficient reason for his belief. Since that moment he had +completed every preparation which before he had only tentatively +considered; and such matters had been attended to entirely independent +of his friend. + +This had to be. It was useless to inform him of anything, worse than +useless, until the last moment, when he intended that his schemes +should be executed to the last detail. After much painful thought he +had finally decided upon coercion to gain his ends. No mere bluff, but +a straightforward, honest declaration of his intentions. It was very +hurtful that he must do this thing. But he could not help it. He had +resolved on saving his friend from himself, and no considerations of +personal feelings or, in fact, anybody's feelings, should be allowed +to stand in his way. He regarded his duty as a man, and not as a +law-abiding citizen. He had no real understanding of the law. His was +the only law that guided him, and his law demanded of him, rightly or +wrongly, the defense from all harm of those whom he loved. + +His manhood dictated this, and he had no thought of personal danger, +or toward what painful destiny it might carry him. The future belonged +to the future, life and death were things of no more account than +waking to daylight, or the profound slumbers of night. Those who +would injure him or his friend must be dealt with in the only way he +understood. To outwit them was his first thought, but he must defeat +their ends if it cost him his life. + +This was the man who had learned from the book of Life, as it is +written in the earth's rough places. He was not naturally desperate, +but, as with the creatures of the forests, which had taught him so +many lessons, when brought to bay in defense of their own, so he was +ready to bare his teeth--and use them. + +He reached for the lantern with the thought of extinguishing it. But +he changed his mind. There was no window that the light might become a +beacon. He would close the door and leave it burning. + +He turned to pass out, but remained where he was. The Padre was +standing in the doorway, and his steady eyes were upon the saddled +horses. + +Buck had no word of greeting to offer. His dark eyes were intently +fixed upon the other's face. In a moment his friend turned to him. + +"It's just on nine, Buck," he said, in his kindest fashion. "We +haven't eaten yet--it's ready." + +It was Buck's turn to glance over at the horses so busily eating their +oats. A curious smile lit his eyes. He knew well enough that the other +had more than fathomed the meaning of those preparations. He was glad +he had made no attempt to conceal them. That sort of thing was never +his way. He had nothing to conceal from his friend. + +"I had a few chores to git fixed," he said easily, indicating the +horses. "They'll sure need a good feed before daylight, I guess." + +The Padre pointed at his belt and revolvers. + +"And you're sleeping in--them." + +"Guess I'm not sleepin'--to-night." + +"No--I suppose not." + +The Padre looked into the strong young face with a speculative glance. + +Buck returned his look with a sudden eagerness. + +"You heard?" he asked sharply. + +"I've heard--Mercy is back." + +Buck watched him turn away to continue his survey of the horses. + +"So have you--I s'pose," the older man went on a moment later, +indicating the horses. + +"Yep. Guess they'll need to do a long journey soon. Mebbe--to-night." + +"Cæsar?" said the Padre. + +"Both," returned Buck, with an emphasis, the meaning of which could +not well be missed. + +The Padre's eyes were smiling. He glanced round the tumbled-down old +barn. They had contrived to house their horses very comfortably, and +Buck kept them wonderfully cared for. These things appealed to him in +a way that made him regret many things. + +"Who's riding--my plug?" the Padre asked deliberately. + +Buck shrugged. + +"Why ask?" he said doggedly. "Who generally does? I don't seem to +guess we need beat around," he went on impatiently. "That ain't bin +our way, Padre. Guess those hosses are ready for us. They'll be ready +night an' day--till the time comes. Then--wal, we're both goin' to use +'em." + +The younger man's impatience had no disturbing effect upon the other. +But his smile deepened to a great look of affection. + +"Still chewin' that bone?" he said. Then he shook his head. "What's +the use? We're just men, you and I; we got our own way of seeing +things. Twenty years ago maybe I'd have seen things your way. Twenty +years hence no doubt you'll see things mine----" + +"Jest so," Buck broke in, his eyes lighting, and a strong note +suddenly adding force to his interruption. "But I'm not waitin' twenty +years so's to see things diff'rent." + +"That's what I should have said--twenty years ago." + +Buck's face suddenly flushed, and his dark brows drew together as he +listened to the calm words of his friend. In a moment his answer was +pouring from his lips in a hot tide which swept his hearer along and +made him rejoice at the bond which existed between them. Nor, in those +moments, could he help feeling glad for that day when he had found the +hungry wayfarer at the trail-side. + +"Ther's more than twenty years between us, sure," Buck cried with +intense feeling. "Nuthin' can alter that, an' ther's sure nuthin' can +make us see out o' the same eyes, nor feel with the same feelin's. +Ther's nuthin' can make things seem the same to us. I know that, an' +it ain't no use you tellin' me. Guess we're made diff'rent that +way--an' I allow it's as well. If we weren't, wal, I guess neither of +us would have things right. See here, Padre, you give most everything +to me you could, ever since you brought me along to the farm. That's +because it's your way to give. I hadn't nuthin' to give. I haven't +nuthin' to give now. I can't even give way. Guess you can, though, +because it's your nature, and because I'm askin' it. Padre, I'm goin' +to act mean. I'm goin' to act so mean it'll hurt you. But it won't +hurt you more than it'll hurt me. Mebbe it won't jest hurt you so +much. But I'm goin' to act that way--because it's my way--when I'm set +up agin it. You're settin' me up agin it now." + +He paused, vainly watching the other's steady eyes for a sign. + +"Go on." The Padre's smile was undiminished. + +Buck made an impatient movement, and pointed at the horses. + +"See them? Ther' they stand," he cried. "Ther' they'll sure stand till +we both set out for the long trail. I got it all fixed. I got more +than that fixed. See these guns?" He tapped one of the guns at his +waist. "They're loaded plumb up. The belt's full of shots. I got two +repeatin' rifles stowed away, an' their magazines are loaded plumb up, +too. Wal--unless you say right here you're goin' to hit the trail with +me, when--things get busy; unless you tell me right out you're goin' +to let me square off jest a bit of the score you got chalked up agin +me all these years by lettin' me help you out in this racket, then I'm +goin' to set right out ther' by the old stockade, and when Bob +Richards gets around, he an' as many of his dogone dep'ties as I can +pull down are goin' to get their med'cine. They'll need to take me +with you, Padre. Guess I'm sharin' that 'chair' with you, if they +don't hand it me before I get ther'. What I'm sayin' goes, every word +of it. This thing goes, jest as sure as I'll blow Bob Richards to hell +before he lays hand on you." + +The younger man's eyes shone with a passionate determination. There +was no mistaking it. His was a fanatical loyalty that was almost +staggering. + +The Padre drew a sharp breath. He had not studied this youngster for +all those years without understanding something of the recklessness he +was capable of. Buck's lips were tightly compressed, his thin nostrils +dilating with the intense feeling stirring him. His cheeks were pale, +and his dark eyes flashed their burning light in the dim glow of the +lantern. He stood with hands gripping, and the muscles of his bare +arms writhed beneath the skin with the force with which they clenched. +He was strung to an emotion such as the Padre had never before seen in +him, and it left the older man wavering. + +He glanced away. + +"Aren't we worrying this thing on the crossways?" he said, endeavoring +to disguise his real feelings. + +But Buck would have none of it. He was in no mood for evasion. In no +mood for anything but the straightest of straight talk. + +"Ther's no crosswise to me," he cried bluntly, with a heat that might +almost have been taken for anger. Then, in a moment, his manner +changed. His tone softened, and the drawn brows smoothed. "Say, you +bin better'n a father to me. You sure have. Can I stand around an' see +you passed over to a low-down sort o' law that condemns innocent +folks? No, Padre, not--not even for Joan's sake. I jest love that +little Joan, Padre. I love her so desprit bad I'd do most anything for +her sake. You reckon this thing needs doin' for her." He shook his +head. "It don't. An' if it did, an' she jest wanted it done--which she +don't--I'd butt in to stop it. Say, I love her that way I want to fix +her the happiest gal in this country--in the world. But if seein' you +go to the law without raisin' a hand to stop it was to make her +happy, guess her chances that way 'ud be so small you couldn't never +find 'em. If my life figures in her happiness, an' I'm savin' that +life while you take your chance of penitentiary an'--the 'chair,' wal, +I guess she'll go miserable fer jest as many years as she goes on +livin'." + +The Padre turned away. It was impossible for him to longer face those +earnest young eyes pleading to be allowed to give their life for his +liberty. The reckless prodigality of the youngster's heart filled him +with an emotion that would not be denied. He moved over to where Cæsar +stood, and smoothed the great creature's silky quarters with a shaking +hand. Buck's storming he could have withstood, but not--this. + +The other followed his every movement, as a beggar watches for the +glance of sympathy. And as the moments passed, and the Padre remained +silent, his voice, keyed sharply, further urged him. + +"Wal?" + +But the other was thinking, thinking rapidly of all those things which +his conscience, and long years of weary hiding prompted. He was trying +to adapt his focus anew. His duty had seemed so plain to him. Then, +too, his inclination had been at work. His intention had not seemed a +great sacrifice to him. He was weary of it all--these years of +avoiding his fellows. These years during which his mind had been +thrown back upon the thought of whither all his youthful, headlong +follies and--cowardice had driven him. Strong man as he was, something +of his strength had been undermined by the weary draining of those +years. He no longer had that desire to escape, which, in youth, had +urged him. He was almost anxious to face his accusers. And with that +thought he knew that he was getting old. Yes, he was getting old--and +Buck--Buck was almost his son. He could not see the boy's young life +thrown away for him, a life so full of promise, so full of quiet +happiness. He knew that that would happen if he persisted. He knew +that every word of Buck's promise would be carried out to the letter. +That was his way. There was no alternative left now but for him to +give way. So he turned back and held out his hand. + +"What you say--goes," he said huskily. "I--I hope what we're doing is +right." + +Buck caught the strong hand in his, and the other winced under his +grip. + +"Right?" he cried, his eyes shining with a great happiness. "Right? +You'll save that old woman the worst crime on earth. You're savin' the +law from a crime which it's no right to commit. You're handin' little +Joan a happiness you can't even guess at in keepin' your liberty--an' +me, wal, you're handin' me back my life. Say, I ain't goin' to thank +you, Padre. I don't guess I know how. That ain't our way." He laughed +happily. "Guess the score you got agin me is still mountin' right up. +I don't never seem to git it squared. Wal, we'll let it go. Maybe it's +almost a pity Bob Richards won't never have the chance of thanking you +for--savin' his life, too." + +The delight in his manner, his shining joy were almost sufficient +recompense to the Padre. He had given way to this youngster as he +always gave way. It had been so from the first. Yes, it was always so, +and--he was glad. + +Buck turned toward the door, and, as he did so, his arm affectionately +linked into that of his friend. + +"We'll need that supper, Padre," he said, more soberly. "There's a +long night, and it ain't easy to guess what may happen before +daylight. Come right along." + +They passed the doorway, but proceeded no farther. Buck held up his +hand, and they stood listening. + +"Wait! Hark!" he cried, and both turned their eyes toward the westward +hills. + +As they stood, a low, faint growl of thunder murmured down the distant +hillsides, and died away in the long-drawn sigh of a rising wind. The +wind swept on, and the rustling trees and suddenly creaking branches +of the forest answered that sharp, keen breath. + +"It's coming--from the northwest," said the Padre, as though the +direction were significant. + +"Yes." Buck nodded with understanding. "That's wher' the other come +from." + +They stood for some moments waiting for a further sign. But nothing +came. The night was pitch black. There was no break anywhere in the +sky. The lamplight in the house stared out sharp and clear, but the +house itself, as with the barns and other outbuildings, the stockade, +even the line of the tree tops where they met the sky, was quite lost +in the inky night. + +"It'll come quick," said the Padre. + +"Sure." + +They moved on to the house, and in a few minutes were sitting down to +one of those silent meals which was so much a part of their habit. Yet +each man was alert. Each man was thinking of those things which they +knew to be threatening. Each man was ready for what might be +forthcoming. Be it tempest or disaster, be it battle or death, each +was ready to play his part, each was ready to accept the verdict as it +might be given. + +Buck was the first to push back from the table. He rose from his seat +and lit his pipe. Then, as the pungent fumes lolled heavily on the +superheated air, he passed over to the open window and took his seat +upon the sill. + +The Padre was more leisurely. He remained in his seat and raked out +the bowl of his pipe with the care of a keen smoker. Then he cut his +tobacco carefully from his plug, and rolled it thoughtfully in the +palms of his hands. + +"Say, about little Joan," he said abruptly. "Will she join us on----?" + +His question remained unfinished. At that instant Buck sprang from his +seat and leant out of the window. The Padre was at his side in an +instant. + +"What----?" + +"Holy Mackinaw! Look!" cried Buck, in an awed tone. + +He was pointing with one arm outstretched in a direction where the +ruined stockade had fallen, leaving a great gaping space. The opening +was sharply silhouetted against a wide glow of red and yellow light, +which, as they watched, seemed to grow brighter with each passing +moment. + +Each man was striving to grasp the full significance of what he +beheld. It was fire. It needed no second thought to convince them of +that. But where--what? It was away across the valley, beyond the +further lip which rose in a long, low slope. It was to the left of +Devil's Hill, but very little. For that, too, was dimly silhouetted, +even at that distance. + +The Padre was the first to speak. + +"It's big. But it's not the camp," he said. "Maybe it's the--forest." + +For a moment Buck made no answer. But a growing look of alarm was in +his straining eyes. + +"It's not a prairie fire," the Padre went on. "There's not enough +grass that way. Say, d'you think----" A sudden fear had leapt into his +eyes, too, and his question remained unfinished. + +Buck stirred. He took a deep breach. The alarm in his eyes had +suddenly possessed his whole being. Something seemed to be clutching +his heart, so that he was almost stifled. + +"It's none o' them things," he said, striving to keep his voice +steady. Then of a sudden he reached out, and clutched the arm of his +friend, so that his powerful fingers sank deep into its flesh. + +"It's the--farm!" he cried, in a tone that rang with a terrible dread. +"Come on! The hosses!" And he dashed from the room before the last +sound of his voice had died out. + +The Padre was hard on his heels. With danger abroad he was no laggard. +Joan--poor little Joan! And there were miles to be covered before her +lover could reach her. + +But the dark shadows of disaster were crowding fast. Evil was abroad +searching every corner of the mountain world for its prey. Almost in a +moment the whole scene was changed, and the dull inertia of past days +was swept aside amidst a hurricane of storm and demoniacal tempest. + +A crash of appalling thunder greeted the ears of the speeding men. The +earth seemed to shake to its very foundations. Ear-splitting +detonations echoed from crag to crag, and down deep into the valleys +and canyons, setting the world alive with a sudden chaos. Peal after +peal roared over the hills, and the lightning played, hissing and +shrieking upon ironstone crowns, like a blinding display of +pyrotechnics. + +There was no pause in the sudden storm. There was no mercy for +wretched human nerves. The blinding light was one endless chain, +sweeping across the heavens as though bent on forever wresting from +its path the black shadows that defied it. + +And amidst all this turmoil, amidst all the devastating roar, which +shook the earth as though bent on wrecking the very mountains +themselves, amidst all the blinding, hellish light, so fierce, so +intense, that the last secrets of the remotest forest depths must be +yielded up, two horsemen dashed down the trail from the fur fort as +fast as sharp spurs could drive their eager beasts. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THE EYES OF THE HILLS + + +The thunder roared without intermission. It rose and fell, that was +all. From a truculent piano it leapt to a titanic crescendo only to +find relief again in a fierce growling dissatisfaction. It seemed less +of an elemental war than a physical attack upon a shuddering earth. +The electric fires rifting the darkness of this out-world night were +beyond compare in their terror. The radiance of sunlight might well +have been less than the blaze of a rush candle before the staggering +brilliancy. It was wild, wild and fearsome. It was vicious and utterly +terrifying. + +Below the quaking earth was in little better case. Only was the scene +here in closer touch with human understanding. Here the terror was of +earth, here disaster was of human making. Here the rack of heart was +in destruction by wanton fire. Shrieking, hissing, crackling, only +insignificant by comparison with the war of the greater elements, +flames licked up and devoured with ravening appetites the tinder-like +structures of Joan's farm. + +The girl was standing in the open. A confined enough open space almost +completely surrounded by fire. Before her were the blazing farm +buildings, behind her was the raging furnace that once had been her +home. And on one side of her the flames commingled so as to be +impassable. Her head was bowed and her eyes were closed, her hands +were pressed tight over her ears in a vain attempt to shut out +cognizance of the terror that reigned about and above her. She stood +thus despairing. She was afraid, terribly afraid. + +Beside her was her aunt, that strange creature whose brain had +always risen superior to the sufferings of the human body. Now +she was crushed to earth in mute submission to the powers which +overwhelmed her. She lay huddled upon the ground utterly lost to all +consciousness. Terror had mercifully saved her from a contemplation of +those things which had inspired it. + +These two were alone. The other woman had gone, fled at the first +coming of that dreaded fiend--fire. And those others, those wretched, +besotted creatures whose mischief had brought about this wanton +destruction, they too had fled. But their flight was in answer to the +wrathful voice of the heavens which they feared and dreaded above all +things in the wild world to which they belonged. + +Alone, helpless, almost nerveless, Joan waited that end which she felt +could not long be delayed. She did not know, she could not understand. +On every hand was a threat so terrible that in her weakness she +believed that life could not long last. The din in the heavens, the +torturing heat so fierce and painful. The glare of light which +penetrated even her closed eyelids, the choking gasps of smoke-laden, +scorching air with which she struggled. Death itself must come, nor +could it be far from her now. + +The wind rushed madly down from the hilltops. It swept over forest and +plain, it howled through canyon and crevasse in its eager haste to +reach the centre of the battle of elements. It pounced upon the +blinding smoke-cloud and swept it from its path and plunged to the +heart of the conflagration with a shriek and roar of cruel delight. +One breath, like the breath of a tornado, and its boisterous lungs +had sent its mischief broadcast in the flash of an eye. With a howl of +delight it tore out the blazing roof of the house, and, lifting it +bodily, hurled it like a molten meteor against the dark walls of the +adjacent pine forest. + +Joan saw nothing of this, she understood nothing. She was blind and +deaf to every added terror. All she felt, all she understood was +storm, storm, always storm. Her poor weary brain was reeling, her +heart was faint with terror. She was alive, she was conscious, but she +might well have been neither in the paralysis that held her. It meant +no more that that avalanche of fire, hurled amidst the resinous woods, +had suddenly brought into existence the greatest earthly terror that +could visit the mountain world; it meant no more to her that an added +roar of wind could create a greater peril; it meant no more to her +that, in a moment, the whole world about her would be in a blaze so +that the burning sacrifice should be complete. Nothing could possibly +mean more to her, for she was at the limit of human endurance. + +But other eyes, other brains were alive to all these things, eyes and +minds trained by a knowledge which only that mountain world could +teach. To them the significance was all absorbing. To them this new +terror was a thousandfold more appalling than all other storm and +tempest. With the forest afire there was safety for neither human nor +beast. With that forest afire flight was well-nigh impossible. With +that forest afire to save any living creature would be well-nigh a +miracle, and miracles had no place in their thoughts. + +Yet those eyes, so watchful, remained unchanged. Those straining +brains only strained the harder. Those eager hearts knew no flinching +from their purpose, and if they quailed it was merely at the natural +dread for those whom they were seeking to succor. + +Even in face of the added peril their purpose remained. The heavens +might roar their thunders, the lightnings might blind their staring +eyes, the howling gale might strew their path with every obstruction, +nothing could change them, nothing could stop them but death itself. + +So with horses a-lather they swept along. Their blood-stained spurs +told their tale of invincible determination. These two men no longer +sat in their saddles, they were leaning far out of them over their +racing horses' necks, urging them and easing them by every trick in a +horseman's understanding. They were making a trail which soon they +knew would be a path of fire. They knew that with every stride of the +stalwart creatures under them they were possibly cutting off the last +hope of a retreat to safety. They knew, none better, that once amidst +that furnace which lay directly ahead it was something worse than an +even chance of life. + +Buck wiped the dripping sweat out of his eyes that he might get a +clearer view. The blaze of lightning was of no use to him. It only +helped to make obscure that which the earthly fires were struggling to +reveal. The Padre's horse was abreast of his saddle. The sturdy brute +was leaving Cæsar to make the pace while she doggedly pursued. + +"We'll make it yet!" shouted Buck, over his shoulder, amidst the roar +of thunder. + +The Padre made no attempt at response. He deemed it useless. + +Buck slashed Cæsar's flanks with ruthless force. + +The blazing farm was just ahead, as was also the roaring fire of the +forest. It was the latter on which both men were concentrating their +attention. For the moment its path lay eastward, away to the right of +the trail. But this they knew was merely the howling force of the +wind. With a shift of direction by half a point and the gale would +drive it straight down the trail they were on. + +The trail bent away to the left. And as they swung past the turn Buck +again shouted. + +"Now for it!" + +He dashed his spurs again at the flanks of his horse, and the great +beast stretched out for a final burst across the bridge over the +narrow creek. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +FROM OUT OF THE ABYSS + + +Joan swayed where she stood. She stumbled and fell; and the fall went +on, and on, and on. It seemed to her that she was rushing down through +endless space toward terrors beyond all believing. It seemed to her +that a terrific wind was beating on her, and driving her downward +toward a fiercely storm-swept ocean, whose black, hideous waves were +ever reaching up to engulf her. + +She cried out. She knew she cried out, and she knew she cried out in +vain. Some one, it seemed to her, was far, far up above her, watching, +seeking to aid her, but powerless to respond to her heart-broken +cries. Still she called, and she knew she must go on calling, till the +dark seas below drowned the voice in her throat. + +Now shadows arose about her, mocking, cruel shadows. They were +definite figures, but she could not give them definite form in her +mind. She reached out toward them, clutching vainly at fluttering +shapes, but ever missing them in her headlong career. She sped on, +buffeted and hurtling, and torn; on, on, making that hideous journey +through space. + +Her despairing thoughts flashed at lightning speed through her +whirling brain. Faster they came, faster and faster, till she had no +time to recognize, no power to hold them. She could see them, yes, she +could literally see them sweep by, vanishing like shadows in that +black space of terror. + +Then came a sudden accession of sharp stabbing pain. It seemed to tick +through her body as might a clock, and each stab came as with the sway +of the pendulum, and with a regularity that was exquisite torture. The +stabs of pain came quicker, the pendulum was working faster. Faster +and faster it swung, and so the torture was ever increasing. Now the +pain was in her head, her eyes, her ears, her brain. The agony was +excruciating. Her head was bursting. She cried louder and louder, and, +with every cry, the pain increased until she felt she was going mad. +Then suddenly the pendulum stopped swinging and her cries and her +agony ceased, and all was still, silent and dark. + +It might have been a moment, or it might have been ages. Suddenly this +wonderful peace was disturbed. It was as though she had just awakened +from a deep refreshing sleep in some strange, unfamiliar world. The +darkness remained, but it was the darkness of peace. The beating wind +had gone, and she only heard it sighing afar off. She was calling +again, but no longer in despair. She was calling to that some one far +above her with the certain knowledge that she would be answered. The +darkness was passing, too. Yes, and she was no longer falling, but +soaring up, up, winging her way above, without effort, without pain. + +The savage waves were receding, their voices had died to a low murmur, +like the voice of a still, summer sea on a low foreshore. Now, too, +between every cry she waited for that answer which she knew must be +forthcoming. It was some man's voice she was awaiting, some man, +whose name ever eluded her searching brain. She strained to hear till +the pulses of her ear-drums throbbed, for she knew when she heard the +voice she would recognize the speaker. + +Hark, there it was, far, far away. Yes, she could hear it, but how far +she must have fallen. There it was again. It was louder, and--nearer. +Again and again it came. It was quite plain. It was a voice that set +her brain and heart afire with longing. It was a voice she loved more +than all the world. Hark! What was that it said? Yes, there it was +again. + +"Pore little gal, pore little Joan." + +Now she knew, and a flood of thankfulness welled up in her heart. A +great love thrilled through her veins, and tears flooded her eyes, +tears of thankfulness and joy. Tears for herself, for him, for all the +world. It was Buck's voice full of pity and a tender love. + +In a moment she was awake. She knew she was awake to a sort of dazed +consciousness, because instantly her brain was flooded with all the +horror of memory. Memory of the storm, the fire, of the devastation of +her home. + +For long minutes she had no understanding of anything else. She was +consumed by the tortures of that memory. Yes, it was still storming, +she could hear the howling of the wind, the roar of thunder, and the +hiss and crackling of fire. Where was she? Ah, she knew. She was +outside, with the fire before and behind her. And her aunt was at her +side. She reached out a hand to reassure herself, and touched +something soft and warm. But what was that? Surely it was Buck's voice +again? + +"Thank God, little gal, I tho't you was sure dead." + +In desperate haste she struggled to rise to her feet, but everything +seemed to rock and sway under her. And then, as Buck spoke again, she +abandoned her efforts. + +"Quiet, little gal, lie you still, or I can't hold you. You're dead +safe fer the moment. I've got you. We're tryin' to git out o' this +hell, Cæsar an' me. An' Cæsar's sure doin' his best. Don't you worrit. +The Padre's behind, an' he's got your auntie safe." + +Joan's mind had suddenly become quite clear. There was no longer any +doubt in it. Now she understood where she was. Buck had come to save +her. She was in his arms, on Cæsar's back--and she knew she would be +saved. + +With an effort she opened her eyes and found herself looking into the +dark face of the man she loved, and a great sigh of contentment +escaped her. She closed them again, but it was only to open them +almost immediately. Again she remembered, and looked about her. + +Everywhere was the lurid glow of fire, and she became aware of intense +heat. Above her head was the roar of tempest, and the vivid, hellish +light of the storm. Buck had called it "hell." + +"The whole world seems to be afire," she said suddenly. + +Buck looked down into her pale face. + +"Well nigh," he said. Then he added, "Yes, it's afire, sure. It's +afire that bad the Almighty alone guesses if we'll git out." + +But his doubt inspired no apprehension. Somehow Joan's confidence was +the effect of his strong supporting arm. + +She stirred again in his arms. But it was very gently. + +"Buck," she said, "let me sit up. It will ease you--and help poor +Cæsar. I'm--I'm not afraid now." + +Buck gave a deep-throated laugh. He felt he wanted to laugh, now he +was sure that Joan was alive. + +"You don't need. Say, you don't weigh nuthin'. An' Cæsar, why, Cæsar's +mighty proud I'm lettin' him carry you." + +But the girl had her way, and, in a moment, was sitting up with one +arm about the man's broad shoulders. It brought her face near to his, +and Buck bent his head toward her, and kissed the wonderful ripe lips +so temptingly adjacent. + +For a moment Joan abandoned herself to the joy of that kiss. Then the +rhythmic sway of Cæsar's body under her reminded her that there were +other things. She wanted to ask Buck how they had known and come to +her help. She wanted to ask a dozen woman's questions. But she +refrained. Buck had spoken of "hell," and she gazed about her seeking +the reason of his doubt. + +In a few minutes she was aware of it all. In a few minutes she +realized that he had well named the country through which they were +riding. In a few minutes she knew that it was a race for life, and +that their hope was in the great heart of Cæsar. + +Far as the eye could see in that ruddy light, tortured and distorted +by the flashes of storm above, was an ocean of fire spread out. The +crowning billows of smoke, like titanic foam-crests, rolled away +upward and onward before them. They, too, were ruddy-tinted by the +reflection from below. They crowded in every direction. They swept +along abreast of them, they rose up behind them, and the distance was +lost in their choking midst. The scorching air was laden to +suffocation by the odors of burning resin. She knew they were on a +trail, a narrow, confined trail, which was lined by unburnt woods. And +the marvel of it filled her. + +"These woods are untouched," she said. + +Again Buck laughed. It was a grim laugh which had no mirth, but yet +was it dashed by a wonderful recklessness. + +"So far," he said. Then he added, with a quick look up at the belching +smoke, "If they weren't I don't guess we'd be here now. Say, it's +God's mercy sure this trail heads from the farm southeast. Further on +it swings away at a fork. One trail goes due east, an' the other +sou'west. One of 'em's sure cut by the fire. An' the other--wal, it's +a gamble with luck." + +"It's the only way out?" The girl's eyes were wide with her question +and the knowledge of the meaning of a reply in the affirmative. + +"That's so." + +"We're like--rats in a trap." + +A sharp oath escaped the man's lips. + +"We ain't beat yet," he cried fiercely. + +The reply was the heart of the man speaking. Joan understood it. And +from it she understood more. She understood the actual peril in the +midst of which they were. + +There was nothing more to be said. Buck's whole attention was upon the +billows of smoke and the lurid reflections thereon. The thunders above +them, the blinding lightnings, left him undisturbed. The wind, the +smoke and the fire were his only concern now. Already, ahead, he could +see in the vague light where the trail gave to the left. Beyond that +was the fork. + +Joan gave no thought to these things. She had no right understanding +of how best they could be served. She was studying the face of the +man, the dark, brave face that was now her whole world. She was aware +of the horseman behind, with his burden, she was aware of the horrors +surrounding them, but the face of the man held her, held her without a +qualm of fear--now. If death lay before them she was in his arms. + +Buck's thoughts were far enough from death. He had snatched the woman +he loved from its very jaws, and he had no idea of yielding. There was +no comfort for him in the thought of their dying together. Living, +yes. Life was more sweet to him just then than ever it had been +before. And he meant that they two should live on, and on. + +They passed the bend and the forking trail loomed up amidst the +shadows. The crisis had come. And as they reached the vital spot Buck +took hold of the horse and reined him up. In a moment the Padre was at +his side with his inanimate burden. + +Joan stared at the still form of her relative while the men talked. + +"It's got us beat to the eastward," said Buck, without a moment's +hesitation. + +"Yes. The fire's right across the trail. It's impassable." + +The Padre's eyes were troubled. The eastward trail led to the open +plains. + +"We must make the other," Buck said sharply, gathering up his reins. + +"Yes. That means----" + +"Devil's Hill, if the fire ain't ahead of us." + +"And if it is?" Curiously enough the Padre, even, seemed to seek +guidance from Buck. + +"It sure will be if we waste time--talkin'." + +Cæsar leapt at his bit in response to the sharp stroke of the spur. + +Now Buck had no thought for anything but the swift traveling fire on +his left. It was the pace of his horse against the pace at which the +gale was driving this furnace. It was the great heart of his horse +against endurance. Would it stand the test with its double burden? If +they could reach that bald, black hill, there was safety and rest. If +not--but they must reach it. They must reach it if it was the last +service he ever claimed from his faithful servant. For once in his +life the mystery of the hill afforded Buck hope and comfort. For once +it was a goal to be yearned for, and he could think of no greater +delight than to rest upon its black summit far from the reach of the +hungry flames, that now, like an invading army, were seeking by every +means to envelop him. + +Could they make it? + +A hundred thoughts and sensations were passing through the man's body +and mind. He was sub-consciously estimating Cæsar's power by the gait +at which he was traveling. He was guessing at the rate of the racing +fire. He was calculating the direction of the wind to an absurd +fraction. He was observing without interest the racing of a strangely +assorted commingling of forest creatures down the trail, seeking +safety in flight from the speeding fire. He cared nothing for them. He +had no feelings of pity for anything or any one but Joan. Every hope +in his heart, every atom of power in his body, every thought was for +her well-being and ultimate safety. Oh, for the rain; oh, for such a +rain as he had seen that time before. + +But the storming heavens were dry-eyed and merciless. That freakish +phenomenon of a raging thunder-storm without the usual deluge of rain +was abroad with all its deadly danger. It was extraordinary. It was so +extraordinary that Buck was utterly at a loss. Why, why? And his +impatient questioning remained without answer. There had been every +indication of rain and yet none had come----What was that? + +Cæsar suddenly seemed to sway drunkenly. He shook his head in the +manner of a horse irritated, and alarm set his ears flat back in his +head, and he stretched his neck, and, of his own accord, increased his +pace. Buck saw nothing to cause this sudden disturbance other than +that which had been with them all the time, and yet his horse's alarm +was very evident. + +A moment later occurred something still more unusual. Cæsar stumbled. +He did not fall. It was a mere false step, and, as he recovered, Buck +felt the poor beast trembling under him. Was it the end of his +endurance? No. The horse was traveling even faster than before, and he +found it necessary to check the faithful creature, an attention that +quickly aroused its opposition. + +Buck's puzzled eyes lifted from his horse to the rapidly nearing fire. +It must be that Cæsar must have realized its proximity, and, in his +effort to outstrip it, had brought about his own floundering. So he no +longer checked the willing creature, and the race went on at the very +limit of the horse's pace. Then, in a moment, again came that absurd +reeling and uncertainty. And Buck's added puzzlement found expression +in words, while his eyes watched closely for some definite cause. + +"Ther's suthin' amiss with Cæsar," he said, with an unconcern of +manner which his words belied. + +"What do you mean?" Joan's eyes lifted to his in sudden alarm. Then +she added, "I seemed to notice something." + +"Seems like he's--drunk." Buck laughed. + +"Perhaps--the earth's shaking. I shouldn't wonder, with this--this +storm." + +"Shaking?" + +Buck echoed her word, but his mind had suddenly seized upon it with a +different thought from hers. If the earth were shaking, it would not +be with the storm above. His eyes peered ahead. Devil's Hill lay less +than a mile away, and that was where he reckoned the fire would strike +the trail. Devil's Hill. A sudden uncomfortable repulsion at the +thought of its barren dome took hold of him. For some subtle reason it +no longer became the haven to be yearned for that it had been. Rather +was it a resting-place to be sought only in extremity--if the earth +were shaking. + +His attention now became divided between the fire and Cæsar. The horse +was evidently laboring. He was moving without his accustomed freedom +of gait, and yet he did not seem to be tiring. + +Half the distance to the foot of the hill had been covered. The fire +was nearing rapidly, so near indeed was it that the air was alive with +a perfect hail of glowing sparks, swept ahead of it by the terrific +wind. The scorching air was becoming unendurable, and the mental +strain made the trail seem endless, and their efforts almost hopeless. +Buck looked down at the girl's patient face. + +"It's hot--hot as hell," he said with another meaningless laugh. + +The girl read through his words and the laugh--read through them to +the thought behind them, and promptly protested. + +"Don't worry for me. I can stand--anything now." + +The added squeeze of her arm upon his shoulders set Buck's teeth +gritting. + +Suddenly he reined Cæsar in. + +"I must know 'bout that--shakin'," he said. + +For a second the horse stood with heaving body. It was only a moment, +but in that moment he spread out his feet as though to save himself +from falling. Then in answer to the spur he sped on. + +"It's the earth, sure," cried Buck. And had there been another escape +he would have turned from the barren hill now rising amidst the +banking smoke-clouds ahead of him. + +"Earthquake!" said the girl. + +"Yes." + +Nothing more was said. The air scorched their flesh, and Joan was +fearful lest the falling sparks should fire her clothing. With every +passing moment Cæsar was nearing their forbidding goal. The fire was +so adjacent that the roar and crackle of it shrieked in their ears, +and through the trees shone the hideous gleam of flame. It was neck +and neck, and their hope lay beneath them. Buck raked the creature's +flanks again with his spurs, and the gallant beast responded. On, on +they sped at a gait that Buck knew well could not last for long. But +with every stride the hill was coming nearer, and it almost seemed as +if Cæsar understood their necessity, and his own. Once Joan looked +back. That sturdy horse of the Padre was doggedly pursuing. Step for +step he hugged his stable companion's trail, but he was far, far +behind. + +"The Padre," cried Joan. "They are a long way back." + +"God help him!" cried Buck, through clenched teeth. "I can't. To wait +fer him sure means riskin' you." + +"But----" Joan broke off and turned her face up to the canopy of smoke +driving across them. "Rain!" she cried, with a wild thrill of hope. +"Rain--and in a deluge." + +In a moment the very heavens seemed to be emptying their reservoirs. +It came, not in drops, but in streams that smote the earth, the fire, +themselves with an almost crushing force. In less than half a minute +they were drenched to the skin, and the water was pouring in streams +from their extremities. + +"We've won out," cried Buck, with a great laugh. + +"Thank God," cried Joan, as she turned her scorched face up to receive +the grateful water. + +Buck eased the laboring Cæsar. + +"That fire won't travel now, an'--ther's the hill," the man nodded. + +They had steadied to a rapid gallop. The hill, as Buck indicated, was +just ahead. Joan's anxious eyes looked for the beginning of the slope. +Yes, it was there. Less than two hundred yards ahead. + +The air filled with steam as the angry fire strove to battle with its +arch-enemy. But the rain was as merciless in its onslaught as had been +the storm, and the fire itself. The latter had been given full scope +to work its mischief, and now it was being called to its account. +Heavier and heavier the deluge fell, and the miracle of its +irresistible power was in the rapid fading of the ruddy glow in the +smoke-laden atmosphere. The fire was beaten from the outset and its +retreat before the opposing element was like a panic flight. + +In five minutes Cæsar was clawing his way up over the boulder-strewn +slopes of the hill, and Joan knew that, for the time at least, they +were safe. She knew, too, if the rain held for a couple of hours, the +blazing woods would be left a cold waste of charred wreckage. + + * * * * * + +But the rain did not hold. It lasted something less than a quarter of +an hour. It was like a merciful act of Providence that came at the one +moment when it could serve the fugitives. The chances had been all +against them. Buck had known it. The fire must have met them at the +foot of the hill and so barred their ultimate escape. The Padre behind +had been inevitably doomed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +THE CATACLYSM + + +Two hours later two men and a girl gazed out from the plateau of +Devil's Hill. The whole earth it seemed was a raging sea of fire. Once +more the forests were ablaze in every direction. The blistering +tongues of fire had licked up the heavy rain, and were again roaring +destruction over the land. + +Far as the eye could reach the lurid pall of smoke was spread out, +rolling upward and onward, borne upon the bosom of the gale. In its +midst, and through it, the merciless flames leapt up and up. The +booming of falling timbers, and the roar of the flames smote painfully +upon the hearts of the watchers. It was a spectacle to crush every +earthly hope. It was a sight so painful as to drive the mind of man +distracted. In all their lives these people had never imagined such a +terror. In all their lives they could never witness such again. + +They stood there silent and awed. They stood there with eyes straining +and ear-drums throbbing with the din of the battle. Their horses were +roaming at will and the still form of Aunt Mercy was at their feet. +There was no shelter. There was no hope. Only they knew that where +they stood was safety, at least, from the fire below. + +Presently Joan knelt at her aunt's side and studied her ashen features +in the ruddy light. The woman's unconsciousness had remained through +all that journey. Or was she dead? Joan could not make up her mind. + +Once, as she knelt, she reeled and nearly fell across that still body. +And when, recovering herself, she looked up at the men she saw that +they were braced, with feet apart, supporting each other. Then, in the +roar of the storm she heard Buck's voice shouting in the Padre's ear. + +"Guess--ther's more to come yet," he said with a profound +significance. + +She saw the Padre's nod, and she wondered at the fresh danger he saw +ahead. + +Buck turned and looked out over the desolate plateau with troubled +eyes. She followed his gaze. Strangely she had little fear, even with +that trouble in her lover's eyes. + +The plateau was desperately gloomy. It was hot, too, up there, +terribly hot. But Joan had no thought for that except that she +associated it with the hot wind blowing up from below. Her observation +was narrowed to a complete dependence on Buck. He was her hope, her +only hope. + +Suddenly she saw him reel. Then, in a moment, she saw that both men +were down on hands and knees, and, almost at the instant, she, +herself, was hurled flat upon the ground beside the body of her aunt. + +The earth was rocking, and now she understood more fully her lover's +trouble. Her courage slowly began to ebb. She fought against it, but +slowly a terror of that dreadful hill crept up in her heart, and she +longed to flee anywhere from it--anywhere but down into that caldron +of fire below. But the thought was impossible. Death was on every hand +beyond that hill, and the hill itself was--quaking. + +Now Buck was speaking again. + +"We'll have to git som'ere from here," he said. + +The Padre answered him-- + +"Where?" + +It was an admission of the elder man's weakness. Buck must guide. The +girl's eyes remained upon her lover's face; she was awaiting his +reply. She understood, had always known it, that all human help for +her must come from him. + +Her suspense was almost breathless. + +"There's shelter by the lake," Buck said, after a long pause. "We can +get to leeward of the rock, an'--it's near the head of that path +droppin' to the creek. The creek seems better than anywher' +else--after this." + +His manner was decided, but his words offered poor enough comfort. + +The Padre agreed, and, at once, they moved across to Joan. For the +moment the earth was still again. Its convulsive shudder had passed. +Joan struggled to her feet, but her increasing terror left her +clinging to the man she loved. The Padre silently gathered Mercy into +his arms, and the journey across the plateau began. + +But as they moved away the subterranean forces attacked again. Again +came that awful rocking, and shaking, which left them struggling for a +foothold. Twice they were driven to their knees, only to stagger on as +the convulsions lessened. It was a nightmare of nervous tension. Every +step of the journey was fraught with danger, and every moment it +seemed as though the hill must fall beneath them to a crumbling +wreckage. + +With heart-sick apprehension Joan watched the growing form of the +great rock, which formed the source of the lake, as it loomed out of +the smoke-laden dusk. It was so high, so sheer. What if it fell, +wrecked with those dreadful earth quakings? But her terror found no +voice, no protest. She would not add to the burden of these men. The +rock passed behind them, and her relief was intense as the shadow was +swallowed up again in the gloom. Then a further relief came to her as +the edge of the plateau was reached, and the Padre set his burden down +at the head of the narrow path which suggested a possible escape to +the creek below. + +She threw herself beside her aunt, and heard Buck speaking again to +his friend. + +"Stop right here with the women," he said. "I'm goin' around that +lake--seems to me we need to get a peek at it." + +Joan understood something of what he feared. She remembered the +weirdness of that suspended lake, and thought with a shudder of the +dreadful earth quakings. So she watched him go with heart well-nigh +breaking. + +Buck moved cautiously away into the gloom. He knew the lake shore +well. The evident volcanic origin of it might well answer many +questions and doubts in his mind. Its rugged shore offered almost +painful difficulties with the, now, incessant quakings below. But he +struggled on till he came to the eminence he sought. Here he took up a +position, lying on his stomach so that he had a wide view of the +surface of the wind-swept water. + +He remained for a long while watching, watching, and striving to +digest the signs he beheld. They were many, and alarming. But their +full meaning was difficult to his untutored mind. + +Here it was that the Padre ultimately found him. He had been gone so +long that the elder man's uneasiness for his safety had sent him in +search. + +"What d'you make of it, Buck?" he demanded, as he came up, his +apprehensions finding no place in his manner. + +Buck displayed no surprise. He did not even turn his head. + +"The fires are hotting. The water's nigh boiling. There's goin' to be +a mighty bust-up." + +The Padre looked out across the water. + +"There's fire around us, fire above us, and now--fire under us. We've +got to choose which we're going to face, Buck--quick." + +The Padre's voice was steady. His feelings were under perfect control. + +Buck laughed grimly. + +"Ther's fire we know, an' fire we don't. Guess we best take the fire +we know." + +They continued to gaze out across the lake in silence after that. Then +the Padre spoke again. + +"What about the horses?" he asked. + +The question seemed to trouble Buck, for he suddenly caught his +breath. But, in a moment, his answer came with decision. + +"Guess they must take their chances," he said. "Same as we have to. I +hate to leave him, but Cæsar's got sense." + +"Yes." + +The Padre's eyes were fixed upon one spot on the surface of the water. +It was quite plain, even in that light, that a seething turmoil was +going on just beneath it. He pointed at the place, but went on talking +of the other things in his mind. + +"Say, you best take this pocketbook. We may get separated before the +night's out. It's half the farm money. You see--ther's no telling," he +ended up vaguely. + +For one instant Buck removed his eyes from the surface of the lake to +glance at the snow-white head of his friend. Then he reached out and +took the pocketbook. + +"Maybe Joan'll need it, anyway," he said, and thrust it in his pocket. +"We must----Say, git busy! Look!" + +Buck's quick eyes had suddenly caught sight of a fresh disturbance in +the water. Of a sudden the whole surface of the lake seemed to be +rising in a great commotion. And as he finished speaking two terrific +detonations roared up from somewhere directly beneath them. + +In an instant both men were on their feet and racing in headlong +flight for the point where they had left the women. + +"Get Joan!" shouted the Padre from behind. He was less swift of foot +than Buck. "Get Joan! I'll see to the other." + +Buck reached the girl's side. She had heard the explosions of the +underworld and stood shaking with terror. + +"We're up agin it, Joan," he cried. And before the panic-stricken girl +could reply she was in his strong young arms speeding for the downward +path, which was their only hope. + +"But the Padre! Aunt Mercy!" cried Joan, in a sudden recollection. + +"They're comin' behind. He'll see to her----God in heaven!" + +A deafening roar, a hundred times greater than the first explosions, +came from directly beneath the man's feet. The air was full of it. To +the fugitives it was as if the whole world had suddenly been riven +asunder. For one flashing moment it seemed to Buck that he had been +struck with fearful force from somewhere behind him, and as the blow +fell he was hurled headlong down the precipitous path. + +A confused, painful sense of cruel buffeting left him only +half-conscious. There was a roar in his ears like the bombardment of +unearthly artillery. It filled his brain to the exclusion of all else, +while he hugged the girl close in his arms with some instinct of +saving her, and shielding her from the cruel blows with his own body. + +Beyond that he had practically no sensation. Beyond that he had no +realization whatever. They were falling, falling, and every limb in +his body seemed to find the obstructions with deadly certainty. How +far, how long they were falling, whither the awful journey was +carrying them, these things passed from him utterly. + +Then, abruptly, all sensation ceased. The limit of endurance had been +reached. For him, at least, the battle for life seemed ended. The +greater forces might contest in bitter rage. Element might war with +element, till the whole face of the world was changed; for Providence, +in a belated mercy, had suspended animation, and spared these two poor +atoms of humanity a further witness of a conflict of forces beyond +their finite understanding. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +ALONE-- + + +"Buck! Buck!" + +Faint and small, the cry was lost in the wilderness of silence. It +died out, a heart-broken moan of despair, fading to nothingness in the +still, desolate world. + +Then came another sound. It was the crash of a falling tree. It was +louder, but it, too, could scarcely break the stillness, so silent was +the world, so desolate was it in the absence of all life. + +Day had broken. The sky was brilliant with swift-speeding clouds of +fleecy white. The great sun had lifted well above the horizon, and +already its warming rays were thirstily drinking from a sodden, +rain-drenched earth. + +The perfect calm of a summer morning reigned. Up above, high up, where +it was quite lost to the desolation below, a great wind was still +speeding on the fleecy storm-clouds, brushing them from its path and +replacing them with the frothing scud of a glorious day. But the air +had not yet regained its wonted freshness. The reek of charred timber +was everywhere. It poisoned the air, and held memory whence it would +willingly escape. + +"Oh, Buck, speak to me! Open your eyes! Oh, my love, my dear, dear +love!" + +The cry had grown in pitch. It was the cry of a woman whose whole soul +is yearning for the love which had been ruthlessly torn from her +bosom. + +Again it died away in a sob of anguish, and all was still again. Not a +sound broke the appalling quiet. Not a leaf rustled, for the world +seemed shorn of all foliage. Not a sound came from the insect world, +for even the smallest, the most minute of such life seemed to have +fled, or been destroyed. There was neither the flutter of a wing, nor +the voice of the prowling carnivora, for even the winged denizens of +the mountains and the haunting scavengers had fled in terror from such +a wilderness of desolation. + +"Buck, oh, my Buck! Speak, speak! He's dead! Oh, my God, he's dead!" + +Louder the voice came, and now in its wail was a note of hysteria. +Fear had made harsh the velvet woman's tones. Fear, and a rising +resentment against the cruel sentence that had been passed upon her. + +She crouched down, rocking herself amidst a low scrub upon which the +dead leaves still hung where the fires had scorched them. But the fire +had not actually passed over them. A wide spread of barren rock +intervened between the now skeleton woods and where the girl sat +huddled. + +In front of her lay the figure of a man, disheveled and bleeding, and +scarcely recognizable for the staunch youth who had yielded himself to +the buffets of life that the woman he loved might be spared. + +But Joan only saw the radiant young face she loved, the slim, graceful +figure so full of life and strength. He was hers. And--and death had +snatched him from her. Death had claimed him, when all that she could +ever long for seemed to be within her grasp. Death, ruthless, fierce, +hateful death had crushed out that life in its cruellest, most +merciless fashion. + +She saw nothing of the ruin which lay about her. She had no thought of +anything else, she had no thought of those others. All she knew was +that her Buck, her brave Buck, lay before her--dead. + +The girl suddenly turned her despairing eyes to the white heavens, +their deep blue depths turned to a wonderful violet of emotion. Her +wealth of golden hair hung loose about her shoulders, trailing about +her on the sodden earth, where it had fallen in the midst of the +disaster that had come upon her. Her rounded young figure was bent +like the figure of an aged woman, and the drawn lines of anguish on +her beautiful face gave her an age she did not possess. + +"Oh, he is not dead!" she cried, in a vain appeal. "Tell me he is not +dead!" she cried, to the limitless space beyond the clouds. "He is all +I have, all I have in the world. Oh, God, have mercy upon me! Have +mercy!" + +Her only reply was the stillness. The stillness as of death. She +raised her hands to her face. There were no tears. She was beyond that +poor comfort. Dry, hard sobs racked her body, and drove the rising +fever to her poor brain. + +For long moments she remained thus. + +Then, after a while, her sobs ceased and she became quite still. She +dropped her hands inertly from her face, and let them lie in her lap, +nerveless, helpless, while she gazed upon the well-loved features, so +pale under the grime and tanning of the skin. + +She sat quite still for many minutes. It almost seemed as if the power +of reason had at last left her, so colorless was her look, so +unchanging was her vacant expression. But at last she stirred. And +with her movement a strange light grew in her eyes. It was a look +bordering upon the insane, yet it was full of resolve, a desperate +resolve. Her lips were tightly compressed, and she breathed hard. + +She made no sound. There were no further lamentations. Slowly she +reached out one hand toward the beloved body. Nor was the movement a +caress. It passed across the tattered garments, through which the +painfully contused flesh peered hideously out at her. It moved with +definite purpose toward one of the gaping holsters upon the man's +waist-belt. Her hand came to a pause over the protruding butt of a +revolver. Just for a moment there was hesitation. Then it dropped upon +it and her fingers clasped the weapon firmly. She withdrew it, and in +a moment it rested in her lap. + +She gazed down upon it with straining, hopeless eyes. It was as if she +were struggling to nerve herself for that one last act of cowardice +which the despairing find so hard to resist. Then, with a deep-drawn +sigh, she raised the weapon with its muzzle ominously pointing at her +bosom. + +Again came a pause. + +Then she closed her eyes, as though fearing to witness the passing of +the daylight from her life, and her forefinger moved to embrace the +trigger. It reached its object, and its pressure tightened. + +But as it tightened, and the trigger even moved, she felt the warm +grip of a hand close over hers, and the pistol was turned from its +direction with a wrench. + +Her startled eyes abruptly opened, and her grip upon the weapon +relaxed, while a cry broke from her ashen lips. She had left the gun +in Buck's hand, and his dark eyes were gazing into hers from his bed +amongst the crushed branches of the bush amidst which he was lying. + +For long moments she stared at him almost without understanding. Then, +slowly, the color returned to her cheeks and lips, and great tears of +joy welled up into her loving eyes. + +"Buck," she murmured, as the heavy tears slowly rolled down her +cheeks, and her bosom heaved with unspeakable joy. "My--my Buck." + +For answer the man's eyes smiled. Her heaven had opened at last. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +--IN THE WILDERNESS + + +The golden sun was high in the heavens. Its splendor was pouring down +upon a gently steaming earth. But all its joyous light, all its +perfect beneficence could not undo one particle of the havoc the long +dark hours of night had wrought. + +High up on a shattered eminence, where a sea of tumbled rock marked +the face of Devil's Hill, where the great hot lake had been held +suspended, Joan and Buck gazed out upon the battle-ground of nature's +forces. + +Presently the girl's eyes came back to the face of her lover. She +could not long keep them from the face, which, such a few hours ago, +she had believed she would never behold again in life. She felt as +though he were one returned to her from the grave, and feared lest she +should wake to find his returning only a dream. + +He was a strange figure. The tattered remains of his clothing were +scarcely enough to cover his nakedness, and Joan, with loving, +unskilled hands, had lavered and dressed his wounds with portions of +her own undergarments and the waters of the creek, whither, earlier, +she had laboriously supported his enfeebled body. But Providence had +spared him an added mercy besides bringing him back to life. It seemed +a sheer miracle that his bones had been left whole. His flesh was +torn, his whole body was terribly bruised and lacerated, but that +worst of all disasters in life had been spared him, and he was left +with the painful use of every limb. + +But the thought of this miracle left the man untouched. Only did Joan +remember, and offer up her thankfulness. The man was of the wild, he +was young, life was with him, life with all its joys and sorrows, all +its shadowy possibilities, so he recked nothing of what he had +escaped. That was his way. + +While Joan's devoted eyes watched the steady light in his, staring out +so intently at the wreck of world before him, no word passed her lips. +It was as though he were the lord of their fate and she waited his +commands. + +But for long Buck had no thought for their personal concerns. He +forgot even the pains which racked his torn body, he forgot even the +regrets which the destruction he now beheld had first inspired him +with. He was marveling, he was awed at the thought of those dread +elements, those titanic forces he had witnessed at play. + +There lay the hideous skeleton picked bare to the bones. Every +semblance of the beauty lines, which, in the earth's mature +completion, it had worn, had vanished, and only mouldering remains +were left. How had it happened? What terrible, or sublime purpose, had +been achieved during that night of terror? He could not think. + +His eyes dropped to that which lay immediately before him. He was +gazing into chaotic depths of torn black rock amidst which a great +cascade of water poured out from the bowels of the earth and flowed on +to join the waters of Yellow Creek. It was the site where had hung the +suspended lake. Half the great hill had been torn away by some +terrible subterranean upheaval, which seemed to have solely occurred +on that side where the lake had been, and where the hill had +confronted the distant camp. Gone were the workings of the miners. +Gone was that great bed of auriferous soil. And in their places lay an +ocean of rock, so vast, so torn, that the power which had hurled it +broadcast was inconceivable to his staggered mind. + +For a while he contemplated the scene with thoughts struggling and +emotions stirring. Then with a sigh he looked out beyond. The valley +of the creek, that little narrow strip of open grass-land, bordered by +pine forests all its length, was gone, too. The creek was now a +wide-spread expanse of flowing water, which had swept from its path +the last vestige of the handiwork of those people who had lived upon +the banks of the original stream. + +There was not a sign of a house or log hut to be seen anywhere. Gone, +gone, swept away like the buildings of children's toy bricks. + +What of those who had dwelt where the water now flowed? Had they, too, +gone on the rushing tide? He wondered. Where had been their escape? +Maybe they had had time. And yet, somehow it seemed doubtful. The +skeleton forests stretched out on every hand to a great distance. They +backed where the camp had stood. They rose up beyond the northern +limits. To the west of the water it was the same. Had he not witnessed +the furnace upon that side? And here, here to the south would they +have faced this terrible barrier belching out its torrential waters, +perhaps amidst fire and smoke? + +He did not know. He could not think. They were gone as everything else +that indicated life was gone, and--they two were left alone in a +wilderness of stricken earth. + +He sighed again as he thought of the gracious woods which the long +centuries had built up. All Nature's wonderful labors, the patient +efforts of ages, wiped out in a few moments of her own freakish mood. +It was heart-breaking to one who had always loved the wild hills where +the all-powerful Dame's whimsies had so long run riot. + +Then as he stared out upon the steaming horizon where hills greater +and greater rose up confronting him and narrowed the limits of his +vision, he saw where the dividing line ran. He remembered suddenly +that even in her destructions Nature had still controlled. The floods +of the heavens must have been abruptly poured out at some time during +the night, or the fire would still be raging on, searching out fresh +fuel beyond those hills, traveling on on and on through the limitless +forests which lay to the north, and south, and west. + +The memory gave him fresh hope. It told him that the world was still +outside waiting to welcome them to its hostels. And so he turned at +last to the patient woman at his side. + +"It seems so a'mighty queer, little Joan," he said gently. "It +seems so a'mighty queer I can't rightly get the hang of things. +Yesterday--yesterday--why, yesterday all this," he waved an arm to +indicate the broken world about him, "was as God made it, an' now +ther's jest ruin--blank ruin that'll take all your life, and mine, an' +dozens who're comin' after us to--to build up agin. Yesterday this +camp was full of busy folk chasin' a livin' from the products Nature +had set here. Now she's wiped 'em out. Why? Yesterday a good man was +threatened by man's law, an' it looked as if that law was to suck us +all into its web an' make criminals of us. Now he's gone an' the +law'll be chased back to hunt around for its prey in places with less +danger to 'em. It's all queer--mighty queer. An' it's queerer still to +think of you an' me sittin' here puzzlin' out these things." + +"Yes." + +Joan nodded without removing her eyes from the face she loved so well. +Then after a pause she went on-- + +"You think--he's dead?" + +Buck was some time before he answered her. His grave eyes were fixed +on a spot across the water, where a break in the charred remains of +the forest revealed a sky-line of green grass. + +"How else?" he said, at last. "He was behind me with your aunt. He was +on the hill. You've scoured what remains of the plateau. Wal, he ain't +there, an' he didn't come down the path wher' we come. We ain't see +'em anyways. Yep," he went on, with a sigh, "guess the Padre's dead, +an' one o' them rocks down ther' is markin' his grave. Seems queer. He +went with her. She was the woman he had loved. They've gone together, +even though she just--hated him. He was a good man an'--he'd got grit. +He was the best man in the world an'--an' my big friend." + +His voice was husky with emotion, and something like a sob came with +his last word, and Joan's eyes filled with tears of sympathy and +regret. + +"Tell me," he went on, after a pause. "I ain't got it right. The fall +knocked you plumb out. An' then?" + +His eyes were still on the distant break of the trees. + +"I don't know what happened," Joan said wearily, spreading out her +drenched skirt to the now blazing sun. "I know I woke up quite +suddenly, feeling so cold that even my teeth were chattering. The rain +was falling like--like hailstones. It was dark, so dark, and I was +terribly afraid. I called to you, but got no answer, and--and I +thought I was alone. It was terrible. The thunder had ceased, and the +lightning was no longer playing. There was no longer any forest fire, +or--or earthquakings. All was still and black, and the rain--oh, it +was dreadful. I sat where I was, calling you at intervals. I sat on, +and on, and on, till I thought the dark would never go, that day would +never break again, and I began to think that all the world had come to +an end, and I, alone, was left. Then at last the rain stopped, and I +saw that day was breaking. But it was not until broad daylight that I +knew where I was. And then--and then I saw you lying close at my feet. +Oh, Buck, don't let me think of it any more. Don't remind me of it. It +was awful. I believed you were dead--dead. And it seemed to me that my +heart died, too. It was so dreadful that I think I--I was mad. And +then--you saved me--again." + +Buck raised a stiff arm and gently drew her toward him with a +wonderfully protecting movement. The girl yielded herself to him, and +he kissed her sweet upturned lips. + +"No, little Joan, gal. Don't you think of it. We got other things to +think of--a whole heap." + +"Yes, yes," cried the girl eagerly. "We've got life--together." + +Buck nodded with a grave smile. + +"An' we must sure keep it." + +He released her and struggled to his feet, where he stood supporting +himself by clinging to a projection of rock. + +"What do you mean, Buck? What are you going to do?" Joan demanded +anxiously, springing to her feet and shaking out her drenched skirt. + +"Do? Why, look yonder. Ther' across the water. Ther' wher' them +burnt-up woods break. See that patch o' grass on the sky-line? Look +close, an' you'll see two--somethings standin' right ther'. Wal, we +got to git near enough that way so Cæsar can hear my whistle." + +"Cæsar? Is--is that Cæsar? Why--how----?" + +Buck nodded his head. + +"Maybe I'm guessin'. I ain't sayin'. But--wal, you can't be sure this +ways off. Y' see, Cæsar has a heap o' sense, an' his saddle-bags are +loaded down with a heap o' good food. An' you're needin' that--same as +me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +LOVE'S VICTORY + + +The rightness of Buck's conjecture was proved before evening, but not +without long and painful effort. Joan was utterly weary, and the man +was reduced to such weakness and disability as, in all his life, he +had never known. + +But they faced their task with the knowledge that with every moment of +delay in procuring food their chances of escape from that land of ruin +were lessening. With food, and, consequently, with Buck's horse, +safety would be practically assured. They would then, too, be able to +prosecute a search for the man they both had learned to love so well. + +With nightfall their hopes were realized, but only at a terrible cost +to the man. So great had become his weakness and suffering that it was +Joan who was forced to make provision for the night. + +Both horses were grazing together with an unconcern that was truly +equine. Nor, when reviewed, was their escape the miracle it appeared. +At the height of the storm they had been left on the farthest confines +of the plateau of Devil's Hill, where no fire would reach them, and at +a considerable distance from the lake. Their native terror of fire +would have held them there in a state bordering on paralysis. In all +probability no power on earth could have induced them to stir from the +spot where they had been left, until the drenching rain had blotted +out the furnace raging below. This had been Buck's thought. Then, +perhaps, laboring under a fear of the quakings caused by the +subterranean fires of the hill, and their hungry stomachs crying out +for food, they had left the dreaded hill in quest of the pastures they +craved. + +The well-stocked saddle-bags, which Buck's forethought had filled for +the long trail, now provided these lonely wanderers in the wilderness +with the food they needed, the saddle-blankets and the saddles +furnished their open-air couches, and the horses, well, the horses +were there to afford them escape when the time came, and, in the +meantime, could be left to recover from the effects of the storm and +stress through which they, too, had passed. + +With the following dawn Buck's improvement was wonderful, and Joan +awoke from a deep, night-long slumber, refreshed and hopeful. An +overhauling of their supplies showed them sufficient food, used +sparingly, to last a week. And with this knowledge Buck outlined their +plans to the girl, who hung upon his every word. + +"We can't quit yet," he said, when they had broken their fast. + +The girl waited, watching his dark contemplative eyes as they looked +across the water at the diminished hill. + +"Nope," he went on. "We owe him more'n that. We must chase around, +an'--find him. We must----" + +"Yes," Joan broke in, her eyes full of eager acquiescence. "We must +not leave him--to--to--the coyotes." She shuddered. + +"No. Guess I'll git the horses." + +"You? Oh, Buck--let me. I am well and strong. It is my turn to do +something now. Your work is surely finished." + +Her pleading eyes smiled up into his, but the man shook his head with +that decision she had come to recognize and obey almost without +question. + +"Not on your life, little gal," he said, in his kindly, resolute +fashion, and Joan was left to take her woman's place in their scheme +of things. + +But she shared in the search of the hill and the woods. She shared in +the ceaseless hunt for three long, weary, heart-breaking days over a +land of desolation and loneliness. She rode at Buck's side hour after +hour on the sturdy horse that had served the Padre so faithfully, till +her body was healthily weary, and her eyes grew heavy with straining. +But she welcomed the work. For, with the tender mother eye of the +woman in her, she beheld that which gladdened her heart, and made the +hardest work a mere labor of love. Each passing day, almost with each +passing hour, she witnessed the returning vigor of the man she loved. +His recuperative powers were marvelous, and she watched his bodily +healing as though he were her own helpless offspring. + +For the rest their search was hopeless. The battling forces of a +storm-riven earth had claimed their toll to the last fraction, and +with the cunning of the miser had secreted the levy. Not a trace was +there of any human life but their own. The waters from the hill swept +the little valley, and hugged to their bosom the secrets that lay +beneath their surface. And the fall of rock held deeply buried all +that which it had embraced in its rending. The farm was utterly +destroyed, and with it had fallen victims every head of stock Joan had +possessed. The old fur fort had yielded to the fire demon, where, for +all the ages, it had resisted the havoc of storm. There was nothing +left to mark the handiwork of man, nothing but the terrible +destruction it had brought about. + +Thus it was on the fourth morning, after breaking their fast, and the +horses had been saddled, Buck once more packed the saddle-bags and +strapped them into their places behind the saddles. Joan watched him +without question. She no longer had any question for that which he +chose to ordain. + +When all was ready he lifted her into her saddle, which she rode +astride, in the manner of the prairie. She was conscious of his +strength, now returned to its full capacity. She was nothing in his +arms now, she might have been a child by the ease with which he lifted +her. He looked to her horse's bridle, he saw that she was comfortable. +Then he vaulted into Cæsar's saddle with all his old agility. + +"Which way, Buck?" The girl spoke with the easy manner of one who has +little concern, but her eyes belied her words. A strange thrill was +storming in her bosom. + +"Leeson Butte," said Buck, a deep glow shining in his dark eyes. + +Joan let her horse amble beside the measured, stately walk of Cæsar. +Her reins hung loose, and her beautiful eyes were shining as they +gazed out eagerly ahead. She was thrilling with a happiness that +conflicted with a strange nervousness at the naming of their +destination. She had no protest to offer, no question. It was as if +the lord of her destiny had spoken, and it was her happiness and +desire to obey. + +They rode on, and their way lay amidst the charred skeleton of a wide, +stately wood. The air was still faint with the reek of burning. There +was no darkness here beyond the blackened tree trunks, for the +brilliant summer sun lit up the glades, which, for ages, no sun's rays +had ever penetrated. The sense of ruin was passing from the minds of +these children of the wilderness. Their focus had already adapted +itself. Almost, even, their youthful eyes and hearts saw new beauties +springing up about them. It was the work of that wonderful fount of +hope, which dies so hardly in us all, and in youth never. + +At length they left the mouldering skeletons behind them, and the +gracious, waving, tawny grass of the plains opened out before their +gladdened eyes. A light breeze tempered the glorious sunlight, and set +ripples afloat upon the waving crests of the motionless rollers of a +grassy ocean. + +Buck drew his horse down to a walk beside the girl, and his look had +lost its reflection of the sadness they were leaving behind. He had no +desire now to look back. For all his life the memory of his "big +friend" would remain, for the rest his way lay directly ahead, his +life, and his--hope. + +"It's all wonderful--wonderful out here, little Joan," he said, +smiling tenderly down upon her sweet face from the superior height at +which Cæsar carried him. "Seems like we're goin' to read pages of +a--fresh book. Seems like the old book's all mussed up, so we can't +learn its lessons ever again." + +Joan returned the warmth of his gaze. But she shook her head with an +assumption of wisdom. + +"It's the same book, dear, only it's a different chapter. You see the +story always goes on. It must go on--to the end. Characters drop out. +They die, or are--killed. Incidents happen, some pleasant, some--full +of sadness. But that's all part of the story, and must be. The story +always goes on to the end. You see," she added with a tender smile, +"the hero's still in the picture." + +"An' the--gal-hero." + +Joan shook her head decidedly. + +"There's no heroine to this story," she said. "You need courage to be +a heroine, and I--I have none. Do you know, Buck," she went on +seriously, "when I look back on all that's gone I realize how much my +own silly weakness has caused the trouble. If I had only had the +courage to laugh at my aunt's prophecies, my aunt's distorted +pronouncements, all this trouble would have been saved. I should never +have come to the farm. My aunt would never have found the Padre. Those +men would never have fired those woods when they burnt my farm, +and--and the gentle-hearted Padre would never have lost his life." + +It was Buck's turn to shake his head. + +"Wrong, wrong, little gal," he said with a warmth of decision. "When +you came to us--to me, an' we saw your trouble, we jest set to work to +clear a heap o' cobwebs from your mind. That was up to us, because you +were sure sufferin', and you needed help. But all we said, all we told +you not to believe, those things were sure marked out, an' you, an' +all of us had to go thro' with 'em. We can't talk away the plans o' +Providence. You jest had to come to that farm. You jest had to do all +the things you did. Maybe your auntie, in that queer way of hers, told +you the truth, maybe she saw things us others didn't jest see. Who can +tell?" + +Joan's eyes lit with a startled look as she listened to the man's +words. They made her wonder at the change in him. Had that terrible +cataclysm impressed him with a new view of the life by which he was +surrounded? It might be. Then, suddenly, a fresh thought occurred to +her. A memory rose up and confronted her, and a sudden joyous anxiety +thrilled her. + +"Do you really think that, Buck?" she cried eagerly. "Do you? Do you?" + +"Things seem changed, little gal," he said, half ruefully. "Seems to +me the past week's been years an' years long." He laughed. "Maybe I +got older. Maybe I think those things now, same as most folks think +'em--when they get older." + +But Joan was full of her own thought, and she went on eagerly, passing +his reasons by. + +"Listen, Buck, when Aunt Mercy told me all my troubles, she told me +something else. But it seemed so small by the side of those other +things, that I--that I almost forgot it. What was it? Her words? Yes, +yes, I asked her, was there no hope for me? No means by which I could +be saved from my fate? And she said that my only hope lay in finding a +love that was stronger than death. These were her words---- + +"'I loved your father with a passion nothing, no disaster could +destroy. Go you, child, and find you such a love. Go you and find a +love so strong that no disaster can kill it. And maybe life may still +have some compensations for you, maybe it will lift the curse from +your suffering shoulders. It--it is the only thing in the world that +is stronger than disaster. It is the only thing in the world that is +stronger than--death.'" + +Her words dropped to a whisper as she finished speaking, and she +waited, like a criminal awaiting sentence, for the man's judgment on +them. Her eyes were downcast, and her rounded bosom was stirring +tumultuously. What would he say? What would he think? And yet she must +have told him. Was he not the one person in the world who held her +fate in his hands? Yes, he must know all there was in her mind. And +she knew in her heart that he would understand as she wanted him to +understand. + +Buck suddenly reined Cæsar in, and brought him to a standstill, +turning him about so that he looked back upon the world they were +leaving behind them forever. In silence Joan responded to his +movement, and her horse closed up against the other. + +"Guess your auntie's notions were all queer, so queer they're mighty +hard to understand," he said reflectively. "But seems to me she's hit +a big truth some way. That curse is sure lifted--sure, sure." + +He pointed at the grim outline of Devil's Hill, now fading in the +distance. + +"Look ther' yonder. Yonder's the disaster, yonder is--death. An' +we--we've sure passed through it. She's right. Our love is stronger +than disaster--stronger than death." + +Then he turned and gazed ardently into her upturned face. "Guess we +sure found that love together, little gal. An' it's ours to keep +forever an' ever. Ther' ain't no other love comin' around. I'm yours +fer jest so long as I have life, an' you--wal, you're jest my whole, +whole world." + +He leant toward her, his dark eyes shining with his great love. +Reaching out he drew her toward him, his strong, protecting arm +encircling her slim waist. + +"Say, little gal," he went on urgingly, "we're goin' right on now to +Leeson Butte. Ther's a passon ther' who can fix us right. An' when +that's done, an' ther' ain't nuthin' in the world can come between us, +why, then I sure got two mighty strong hands yearnin' to git busy +handin' you those things which can make a woman's life easy, an'--an' +happy. Will you come, little Joan? Will you sure come?" + +His eager young face was close to hers, and his deep breath fanned her +warm cheek. She gave him no verbal reply. At that moment she had no +words. But she turned toward him. And, as she turned, her lips met his +in one long, passionate kiss. He needed no other reply. She was giving +him herself. It was the soul of the woman speaking. + +Some moments later their horses were again heading for Leeson Butte. +The eyes of the girl were shining with a happiness such as she had +never known before, and Buck sat with head erect, and the light of a +great purpose in his eyes. For a while they rode thus. Then the man's +eyes twinkled with a sudden thought. For a moment he glanced at the +golden head so close beside him. Then he smiled. + +"Say, little Joan," he cried, "guess you're that gal-hero after all." + +Joan responded to his look. + +"How?" she inquired, with a heightened color. + +"Why, jest git a look at me. Me! You're goin' to marry me! I'd sure +say you've a heap more grit than any gal-hero I've heard tell of." + +Joan surveyed his unkempt figure,--the torn clothing, his unshaven +face; the bandages made of her own undergarments, which he still +wore,--and the happy smile on her young face broadened. + +"Well, you see, Buck, dear," she said joyously, "you can't be a proper +hero if you don't carry the scars of battle on you." She sighed +contentedly. "No, I'm afraid it doesn't need much 'grit' to marry +you." + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; +otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's +words and intent. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Woman, by Ridgwell Cullum + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WOMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 29628-8.txt or 29628-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/6/2/29628/ + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Golden Woman + A Story of the Montana Hills + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + +Release Date: August 7, 2009 [EBook #29628] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WOMAN *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="bbox centerbox"> + +<p class="smallgap"> </p> + +<h1>The Golden Woman</h1> + +<p class="double"> </p> + +<h3>A Story of the Montana Hills</h3> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>By RIDGWELL CULLUM</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Author of</span><br /> +“The Way of the Strong,” “The Law Breakers,”<br /> +“The Trail of the Axe,” Etc.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 103px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="103" height="100" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">With Frontispiece in Colors</p> + +<p class="double"> </p> + +<h3>A. L. BURT COMPANY</h3> + +<p class="center">Publishers New York</p> + +<p class="center">Published by Arrangement with <span class="smcap">George W. Jacobs & Company</span> +</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p class="center">Copyright, 1913, by<br /> +<span class="smcap">George W. Jacobs & Company</span><br /> +Published February, 1916</p> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved</i><br /> +Printed in U. S. A.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 335px;"> +<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="“It’s the same book, dear, only a different chapter.”" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“It’s the same book, dear, only a different chapter.”</span> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr> +<td align="right">I.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Aunt Mercy</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#The_Golden_Woman">9</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">II.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Over the Telephone</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">20</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">III.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Pariah</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">26</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">IV.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Two Men of the Wilderness</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">39</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">V.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Steeps of Life</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">54</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VI.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Out of the Storm</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">73</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Simple Manhood</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">85</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VIII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Secret of the Hill</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">96</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">IX.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Gathering for the Feast</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">106</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">X.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Solving the Riddle</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">110</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XI.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Shadow of the Past</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">121</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Golden Woman</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">133</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Call of Youth</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">149</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIV.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Whirlwind Visit</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">158</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XV.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Claims of Duty</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">165</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XVI.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Gold and Alloy</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">177</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XVII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Two Points of View</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">187</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XVIII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">When Life Holds No Shadows</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">204</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIX.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Study in Mischief</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">217</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XX.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Abilities of Mrs. Ransford</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">229</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXI.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Meeting On the Trail</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">240</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Man’s Support</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">246</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXIII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Bridging of Years</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">258</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXIV.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Beasley Plays the Game</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">273</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXV.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Buck Laughs at Fate</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">286</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXVI.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Irony</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">301</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXVII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Web of Fate</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">313</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXVIII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Black Night</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">325</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXIX.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Beasley in His Element</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">334</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXX.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Moving Finger</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">356</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXXI.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Joy of Beasley</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">364</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXXII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Stronger Than Death</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">374</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXXIII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Tempest Breaks</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">389</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXXIV.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Eyes of the Hills</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">402</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXXV.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">From Out of the Abyss</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">407</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXXVI.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Cataclysm</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">420</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXXVII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Alone—</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">427</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXXVIII.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">—In the Wilderness</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">432</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXXIX.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Love’s Victory</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">439</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Golden_Woman" id="The_Golden_Woman"></a>The Golden Woman</h2> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>AUNT MERCY</h3> + +<p>An elderly woman looked up from the crystal globe before her. The +sound of horse’s hoofs, clattering up to the veranda, had caught her +attention. But the hard, gray eyes had not yet recovered their normal +frigidity of expression. There were still traces in them of the +groping mind, searching on, amidst the chaos of a world unseen. Nor +was Mercy Lascelles posing at the trade which yielded her something +more than her daily bread. She had no reason for pose. She was an +ardent and proficient student of that remote science which has for its +field of research the border-land between earthly life and the +ultimate.</p> + +<p>For some moments she gazed half-vacantly through the window. Then +alertness and interest came back to her eyes, and her look resumed its +normal hardness. It was an unlovely face, but its unloveliness lay in +its expression. There was something so unyielding in the keen, +aquiline nose and pointed chin. The gray eyes were so cold. The +pronounced brows were almost threatening in their marking and +depression. There was not a feature in her face that was not handsome, +and yet, collectively, they gave her a look at once forbidding, and +even cruel.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>There was no softening, there never was any softening in Mercy +Lascelles’ attitude toward the world now. Years ago she may have given +signs of the gentler emotions of her woman’s heart. It is only +reasonable to suppose that at some time or other she possessed them. +But now no one was ever permitted beyond the harsh exterior. Perhaps +she owed the world a grudge. Perhaps she hoped, by closing the doors +of her soul, her attitude would be accepted as the rebuff she intended +to convey.</p> + +<p>“Is that you, Joan?” she demanded in a sharp, masterful tone.</p> + +<p>“It certainly is, auntie,” came the gentle, girlish response from the +veranda.</p> + +<p>The next moment the door of the little morning-room opened, and a tall +girl stood framed in its white setting.</p> + +<p>Joan Stanmore possessed nothing whatever in common with her aunt. She +was of that healthy type of American girl that treats athletics as a +large part of her education. She was tall and fair, with a mass of +red-gold hair tucked away under the mannish hat which was part of her +dark green, tightly-fitting riding habit. Her brow was broad, and her +face, a perfect oval, was open and starred with a pair of fearless +blue eyes of so deep a hue as to be almost violet. Her nose and mouth +were delicately moulded, but her greatest beauty lay in the exquisite +peach-bloom of her soft, fair skin.</p> + +<p>Joan Stanmore was probably the handsomest girl in St. Ellis City, in a +suburb of which she and her aunt lived. She was certainly one of the +most popular girls, in spite of the overshadowing threat of an aunt +whom everybody disliked and whom most people feared. Her disposition +was one of serene gentleness, yet as fearless and open as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>her beautiful eyes suggested. She was of a strongly independent spirit +too, but, even so, the woman in her was never for a moment jeopardized +by it; she was never anything but a delightful femininity, rejoicing +wholesomely in the companionship of the opposite sex.</p> + +<p>She and her aunt had lived for five years in this suburb of St. Ellis. +They had left New York for the southwest because the profession of the +elder woman had gained unpleasant notoriety in that city of +contradictions. The calling of the seer had appealed well enough to +the citizens individually, but a wave of moral rectitude, hurling its +municipal government spluttering upon a broken shore of repentance, +had decided it to expurgate such wickedness from its midst, lest the +local canker become a pestilence which might jeopardize the immortal +soul of the citizen, and, incidentally, hand the civic control over to +the opposition party.</p> + +<p>So aunt and orphaned niece had moved westward, seeking immunity in a +region where such obscure professions were regarded with a more +lenient eye. Joan had little enough sympathy with her relative’s +studies. She neither believed in them, nor did she disbelieve. She was +so young, and so full of that vitality which makes for the wholesome +enjoyment of life, as viewed through eyes as yet undimmed by the +bitterness of experience, that she had neither time, place, nor +serious thought for such matters. Her only interest, if interest it +could be called, was an occasional wonderment at the extent of the +harvest Aunt Mercy reaped out of the credulity of the merchant and +finance-princes of the city. This, and the state of her aunt’s health, +as pronounced by Dr. Valmer, were the only things which ever brought +such matters as “crystal <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>gazing” and scientific astrology into her +mind. Otherwise horoscopes, prognostications, warnings, omens, passed +her by as mere words to raise a smile of youthful derision at the +expense of those who heaped money for such readings into the seer’s +lap.</p> + +<p>Joan was in no way dependent upon her aunt. Living with her was a +matter of personal choice. Mercy Lascelles was her only relative for +one thing, and the elder woman being a lonely spinster, it seemed only +right that Joan should make her home under her scarcely hospitable +roof. Then, too, there was another reason which influenced the girl. +It was a purely sentimental reason, such as at her age might well +appeal to her. A whisper had reached her to the effect that, hard and +unsympathetic as her Aunt Mercy was, romance at one time had place in +her life—a romance which left her the only sufferer, a romance that +had spelt a life’s disaster for her. To the adamantine fortune-teller +was attributed a devotion so strong, so passionate in the days of her +youth that her reason had been well-nigh unhinged by the hopelessness +of it. The object of it was her own sister’s husband, Joan’s father. +It was said that at the moment of his death Mercy Lascelles’ youth +died too. All softness, all gentleness passed out of her life and left +her the hard, prematurely aged woman she now was.</p> + +<p>As a consequence Joan felt that her duty lay beside a woman whom Fate +had treated so ill; that duty demanded that an effort must be made to +bring a little brightness into so solitary and loveless a life.</p> + +<p>So her choice was made. And as she grew accustomed to the stern +companionship she often found herself wondering how a woman of such +curiously harsh disposition <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>could ever have been the victim of such a +passion as was attributed to her. It was almost inconceivable, +especially when she tried to picture the father, whom she had never +known, but who was reputed to be such an intensely human man, so full +of the many frailties of a Wall Street gambler.</p> + +<p>Joan now saw the crystal lying in her aunt’s lap. She saw, too, the +fevered eyes lifted to her face. And with an uncomfortable feeling of +disaster pending she moved across to the window-seat and flung herself +upon the pile of down cushions.</p> + +<p>“I do hope you’re not—not seeing things again, auntie,” she said in +an anxious voice, her eyes fixed resentfully upon the detested +crystal. “You know Dr. Valmer forbade you—practicing for at least six +months,” she added warningly.</p> + +<p>“Dr. Valmer’s a fool,” came the sharp retort.</p> + +<p>The girl flushed. It was not the words: it was the manner that could +so hurt. But this time she felt it her duty to continue. Her aunt’s +health was seriously affected, and the doctor had warned her +personally about it.</p> + +<p>“I dare say he is, auntie,” she protested. “But you pay him good +dollars for being one. What is the use of it if you don’t take his +advice?”</p> + +<p>Just for a second a peculiar look flashed into Mercy’s eyes. Then she +allowed them to drop to the crystal in her lap.</p> + +<p>“Go and change your habit. It will keep you busy on your own affairs. +They need all your attention—just now.”</p> + +<p>The rudeness left Joan untouched. She was too seriously concerned.</p> + +<p>Mercy Lascelles had only recently recovered from a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>bad nervous +breakdown, the result, so Dr. Valmer, the specialist, assured her, of +the enormous strain of her studies. He had warned Joan of the danger +to her aunt’s mental balance, and begged her to use every effort to +keep her from her practice. But Joan found her task well-nigh +impossible, and the weight of her responsibility was heavy upon her.</p> + +<p>She turned away to the window and gazed out. She was feeling rather +hopeless. There were other things worrying her too, small enough +things, no doubt, but sufficiently personal to trouble her youthful +heart and shadow all her thought with regret. She was rapidly learning +that however bright the outlook of her life might be there were always +clouds hovering ready to obscure the smiling of her sun.</p> + +<p>She looked at the sky as though the movement were inspired by her +thought. There was the early summer sun blazing down upon an already +parching earth. And there, too, were the significant clouds, fleecy +white clouds for the most part, but all deepening to a heavy, gray +density. At any moment they might obscure that ruddy light and pour +out their dismal measure of discomfort, turning the world from a +smiling day-dream to a nightmare of drab regret.</p> + +<p>Her mood lightened as she turned to the picture of the garden city in +which they lived. It was called a garden city, but, more properly, it +was a beautiful garden village, or hamlet. The place was all hills and +dales, wood-clad from their crowns to the deepest hollows in which the +sandy, unmade roads wound their ways.</p> + +<p>Here and there, amidst the perfect sunlit woodlands, she could see the +flashes of white, which indicated homes <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>similar to their own. They +were scattered in a cunningly haphazard fashion so as to preserve the +rural aspect of the place, and constructed on lines that could under +no circumstances offend the really artistic eye. And yet each house +was the last word in modernity; each house represented the +abiding-place of considerable wealth.</p> + +<p>Yes, there was something very beautiful in all this life with which +she was surrounded. The pity of it was that there must be those clouds +always hovering. She glanced up at the sky again. And with a shiver +she realized that the golden light had vanished, and a great +storm-cloud was ominously spreading its purplish pall.</p> + +<p>At that moment her aunt’s voice, low and significant, reached her from +across the room. And its tone told her at once that she was talking to +herself.</p> + +<p>“You fool—you poor fool. It awaits you as surely as it awaits +everybody else. Ride on. Your fate awaits you. And thank your God it +is kept hidden from your blinded eyes.”</p> + +<p>Joan started.</p> + +<p>“Auntie!”</p> + +<p>A pair of cold, gray eyes lifted to her face. The shaking, bony hands +clutched nervously at the crystal. The eyes stared unseeingly into the +girl’s face for some moments, then slowly the fever crept into them +again—the fever which the doctor had warned Joan against.</p> + +<p>“Oh, auntie, put—put that away.” Joan sprang from her seat and ran to +the other’s side, where she knelt imploringly. “Don’t—don’t talk so. +You—frighten me.” Then she hurried on as though to distract the +woman’s attention. “Listen to me. I want to tell you about my ride. I +want to tell about——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><p>“You need tell me nothing. I know it all,” Mercy broke in, roughly +pushing the clinging hands from about her spare waist. “You rode with +young Sorley this morning—Dick Sorley. He asked you to marry him. He +told you that since he had known you he had made a small fortune on +Wall Street. That he had followed you here because you were the only +woman in the world for him. He told you that life without you was +impossible, and many other foolish things only fitted for the +credulity of a young girl. You refused him. You regretted your refusal +in conventional words. And he rode away, back to his hotel, and—his +fate.”</p> + +<p>The girl listened breathlessly, wondering at the accuracy of this +harsh recapitulation of the events of her morning ride. But as the +final words fell from the seer’s lips she cried out in protest—</p> + +<p>“Oh, auntie. His fate? How? How? What do you mean? How do you know all +this?”</p> + +<p>Joan had risen to her feet and stood eyeing her aunt in wonder and +amazement. The elder woman fondled her crystal in her thin hands. A +look akin to joy suddenly leapt into her burning eyes. Her lips were +parted so that they almost smiled.</p> + +<p>“It is here, here. All here,” she declared exultingly. “The mandates +of Fate are voiced amongst the stars, and the moving hand delineates +unerringly the enactments—here—here.” She raised the crystal and +gazed upon it with eyes alight with ecstasy. “It is for the eye to +see, and for the mind to read. But the brain that comprehends must +know no thought of human passions, no human emotions. There is nothing +hidden in all the world from those who seek with the power of heart +and brain.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p><p>Joan’s amazement passed. It was replaced by something like horror and +even terror as she listened. To her the words were dreadful, they +spoke of the woman’s straining brain, and her thoughts flew to the +doctor’s verdict. Was this the madness he had feared? Was this the +final crash of a brain driven to breaking-point? The questions flew +through her mind only to be swept aside by the recollection of what +her aunt had told her of her morning ride. It was true—true. Every +word of it. Where could the insanity lie? No—no. It could not be. +But—but—such a power!</p> + +<p>Her thoughts were cut short. Again her aunt was speaking. But now her +voice had once more resumed its customary harshness. The fire had died +out of her eyes. Again the dreaded crystal was lying in her lap, +fondled by loving fingers. And something approaching a chuckle of +malice was underlying the words which flowed so rapidly from her thin +lips.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you learned yet? Can’t you read what the hand of Fate is +trying to point out to your blinded eyes? Did not the man Cahusac ask +you to marry him? Did not you refuse him? And did not he die of +typhoid within two weeks of committing that foolishness? And Charlie +Hemming. He dared to make love to you. What then? Didn’t he make a +fortune on the Cotton Exchange? Didn’t he tell you that it was you who +brought him his luck? Luck? Your luck is disaster—disaster disguised. +What happened? Hemming plunged into an orgie of riotous living when +you refused him. Didn’t he squander his fortune, bolt to Mexico, and +in twelve months didn’t he get shot as a rebel and a renegade, and +thus add himself to the list of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>the victims of your—so-called +‘luck’? Luck! Oh, the madness, the blindness of it!”</p> + +<p>The woman’s passionate bitterness had lost all sense of proportion. +She saw only through her straining nerves. And the injustice of it all +brought swift protest to Joan’s lips.</p> + +<p>“You are wrong. You are cruel—bitterly, wickedly cruel, auntie,” she +cried. “How am I responsible? What have I done?”</p> + +<p>In an instant the gray eyes were turned upon her with something akin +to ferocity, and her voice rang with passion.</p> + +<p>“Wrong? Cruel? I am stating undeniable facts. I am telling you what +has happened. And now I am going to tell you the result of your +morning’s ride. How are you responsible? What have you done? Dick +Sorley has gone to his fate as surely as though you had thrust a knife +through his heart.”</p> + +<p>“Aunt! How—how dare——?”</p> + +<p>“How dare I say such things? Because I am telling you the truth—which +you cannot bear to face. You must and shall hear it. Who are you to +escape the miseries of life such as we all have to suffer? Such as you +have helped to make <i>me</i> suffer.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t—don’t!” Joan covered her face with her hands, as though to +shut out the sight of that cruel, working face before her—as though +to shut out of her mind the ruthless accusation hurled at her.</p> + +<p>But the seer was full of the bitterness so long stored up in her +heart, and the moment had come when she could no longer contain it +beneath the cold mask she had worn for twenty years. The revelation +was hers. Her strange mind and senses had witnessed the scenes that +now held <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>her in the grip of their horror. They had driven her to the +breaking-point, and no longer had she thought for anything but her own +sufferings, and the injustice that a pariah should walk at large, +unknown to the world, unknown to itself.</p> + +<p>“Don’t?” The woman laughed mirthlessly. Her thin lips parted, but the +light in her eyes was unrelenting. “I tell you it is so. Dick Sorley +has gone to his fate. Straight to his doom from your side. You sent +him to it. I have witnessed the whole enactment of it here—in this +crystal. You, and you alone, have killed him—killed him as surely as +though you had deliberately murdered him! Hark! That is the telephone +bell ringing——”</p> + +<p>She paused as the shrill peal of the instrument rang through the room. +There was a prolonged ringing. Then it broke off. Then again and again +it rang, in short, impatient jerks.</p> + +<p>“Go to it, girl. Go and listen to the message. You say I am cruel. +Hear what that senseless thing has to tell you. Listen to the voice at +the other end. It is at the hospital. The doctor is there, and he will +speak to you. And in a ward adjacent, your discarded lover +lies—dead.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>OVER THE TELEPHONE</h3> + +<p>From the depths of her high-backed chair Mercy Lascelles stared at the +white door beyond which Joan had just vanished. Her gaunt figure was +no longer huddled over the fateful crystal she still clutched in her +two hands. Her brain was busy, and her eyes were hot and feverish.</p> + +<p>She was not thinking of the girl. She was not even thinking of the +message traveling over the wire at that moment. That she knew. For her +it had no greater significance than that it was the corroboration +necessary to convince the girl who was receiving it—to convince her +of the truth of that which she had charged her with.</p> + +<p>Her mind was far away, back in the dim years of her earlier womanhood. +Back amidst scenes of disaster through which she had long since +passed. All the old pain and suffering was at the surface again. Again +was she torn by the bitterness and injustice that had robbed her of +all that seemed good to her in life. Again through her mental picture +moved the figures of two men and one woman, the characters who went to +make up the cast of her wretched drama. Her feelings were once more +afire with hatred, hatred for one, and, for the others, a profound, +contemptuous bitterness.</p> + +<p>But hatred was dominant. The memory of one of those men had always +power to drive her to the verge of madness. He was a handsome, +brown-haired man of powerful <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>physique. A man whose gentle manner and +swift, hot temper she abhorred, and the memory of whose influence upon +her life had still power to grind to ashes every gentle feeling she +ever possessed.</p> + +<p>It was of one of his terrible tempers she was thinking now. He had +displayed a fury she could never, would never forget. It was a memory +that tripped her even now at every turn, till it had become something +akin to an obsession.</p> + +<p>Every detail of the scene was as clear cut in her mind as a hideous +cameo, every word he had uttered, the accusations, the insinuations he +had made. Even the room, with its simple furnishings, its neatness, +its air of care—her care—stood out sharply in her memory. She +remembered it all so well. She was in the midst of preparing Charles +Stanmore’s supper, and Joan, only a couple of weeks old, was fast +asleep in an adjoining bedroom. He had chosen this time to call, +because he knew that she, Mercy, would be alone.</p> + +<p>She remembered his handsome face clouded with sullen anger and +jealousy when she let him in at the door of the apartment. And then +his first words when he took up his position before the hard-coal +stove in the parlor—</p> + +<p>“So you’ve pitched everything to the devil, and taken up your abode +with Charlie,” he began, in tones of jealous fury. “And he—he is your +brother-in-law.”</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking his meaning. He intended that she should make +no mistake, for he added a laugh—a hateful laugh—to his words.</p> + +<p>This was the man who had asked her to marry him almost numberless +times. This was the man whom she had refused time and again, making it +plain that, however <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>hopelessly, her love was given to another. This +was the man who knew that she had come at her sister’s death to care +for the little, new-born, motherless, baby girl, and help the man whom +she had always loved out of the hopeless dilemma in which he found +himself. This was the man who was the lifelong friend of Charles +Stanmore, whose mistress he was accusing her of having become.</p> + +<p>She remembered the sudden anger which leapt to her brain. She +remembered, too, the thought which came in its midst, and formulated +her instant retort.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said coldly. “I have.”</p> + +<p>Then she saw the real man as she had now come to regard him. She +remembered the sudden blaze of his eyes, the ghastly pallor of his +face, the look of almost insane jealousy which he turned upon her. And +then came that never-to-be-forgotten insult, those words which had +seared themselves upon her woman’s heart as though branded thereon +with red-hot irons.</p> + +<p>“And you are the woman I have loved. Woman?” He laughed. “It’s too +good for you. Do you know what we men call such creatures as you? All +this time you have waited—waited, and the moment your poor sister is +in her grave, almost before the blood in her veins is cold, you seize +your opportunity to fulfil your mad desire. Taking advantage of +Charlie’s wretchedness and trouble, you force yourself upon him. You +force a position upon him from which there is no escape. The world +will accept the position at the value you intend, and he is powerless +to do anything but accept it too. You meant to have him, and I suppose +he is yours by now. And all this time I have wasted an honest love on +you—you——”</p> + +<p>And she had answered him, calmly and deliberately, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>before he could +utter the filthy epithet she knew he intended.</p> + +<p>“Please keep your voice down, or—or you’ll wake little Joan.”</p> + +<p>Even now she could never quite understand her own attitude at the +moment. Something inside her was urging her to fly at his throat and +tear the foul words from it. Yet there was something gripping her, +something compelling her to a calmness she was powerless to resist.</p> + +<p>Then, as swiftly as he had blazed into fury, had come a miraculous +change in the man. Perhaps it was the effect of her calm, perhaps it +was something in the man himself. Anyway the madness abruptly died out +of his eyes and left him shaking. He strove to speak, but no words +came. He passed his hand across his forehead as though to remove +something that was clouding his brain. He turned from her fixed stare +as though he could no longer support it. He moved across the room. He +hesitated. He turned to her. She did not see the movement, for her +back was now turned, but somehow she felt it.</p> + +<p>Then she heard his footsteps again, and, finally, the rattle of the +door handle as he clutched it. After that came his voice. All the +anger, the jealousy, had gone out of it. It was low, gentle, +imploring. But she did not move.</p> + +<p>“Mercy, Mercy! For—forgive me. I——”</p> + +<p>“Never!”</p> + +<p>Oh, the scorn, the hatred she had flung into the word!</p> + +<p>The next she remembered was that he passed swiftly and silently from +the room. Then, then at last her woman’s weakness, a weakness she now +so cordially despised, overcame her, and she fell into a chair and +wept.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p><p>But her weakness was short-lived. Her spirit rose in rebellion, and +her tears ceased to flow as the cruel iron entered her soul. She +pondered long and deeply, and presently she went on with her +preparations for Charles Stanmore’s supper as though nothing unusual +had occurred.</p> + +<p>Nor, when he came home, did she tell him, nor did she ever by word or +act permit the secret of that interview to pass out of her keeping. +But the memory of it was forever with her. Day and night she hugged it +to herself, she nursed it, and fostered it for all those twenty years, +the bitterness, the cruel injustice of the insult, grinding its way +till it became a part of the very essence of her being.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a cry broke in upon her reverie. She started, and her eyes +lit with a gleam of satisfaction. Her mind had returned to the +present, and she called out—</p> + +<p>“Joan!”</p> + +<p>Without waiting for an answer she left her seat, and, crossing swiftly +to the door, flung it wide open.</p> + +<p>Joan staggered in, and, dropping into the welcoming arms of a +rocking-chair, she buried her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>Mercy Lascelles stood silently contemplating the bowed head. There was +no sympathy in her attitude. Her heart was cold and hard as steel. But +she was interested in the cause rather than the effect.</p> + +<p>After a while the storm of grief slackened. The racking sobs came at +longer intervals. Then it was that Mercy Lascelles broke the silence.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she demanded sharply.</p> + +<p>The tear-stained face was slowly lifted, and the sight of the girl’s +distress was heart-breaking.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>“He is dead,” Joan said in a choking voice. Then, with something like +resentment—“Are—are you satisfied?”</p> + +<p>Mercy went back to her chair and her beloved crystal. And after a +moment she began to speak in a low, even tone, as though reciting a +well-learnt lesson.</p> + +<p>“It was at the crossing of 36th Street and Lisson Avenue, here the +street cars cross, here some also turn off. It was the fault of his +horse. The creature shied at a heavy truck. Two cars were approaching +from east and west. The shying horse slipped on the granite paving, +fell, and was caught between the two meeting cars before they could +pull up. The horse was killed on the spot, and—the rider was——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t, auntie! Don’t say it! Yes, yes, he was taken to the hospital, +and died of his injuries. But don’t speak of his terrible mutilations. +I—I can’t bear it.”</p> + +<p>Again Joan buried her face in her hands as though to shut out the +horror of it all. But the elder woman had no such scruples.</p> + +<p>“Why harrow yourself with the picture?” she demanded brusquely. +“Imagination can add nothing to the fact. Tears will not change one +detail. They will only add to your distress. Dick Sorley left your +side to go to certain death. Nothing could have averted that. Such was +his fate—through you.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE PARIAH</h3> + +<p>Joan suddenly threw up her head. There was resentment in the violet +depths of her eyes, and her whole expression had hardened. It was as +though something of her youth, her softness, had passed from her.</p> + +<p>“You must tell me, auntie,” she demanded in a tone as cold as the +other’s. “I—I don’t understand. But I mean to. You accuse me with the +responsibility of—this. Of responsibility for all that has happened +to those others. You tell me I am cursed. It is all too much—or too +little. Now I demand to know that which you know—all that there is to +know. It is my right. I never knew my father or mother, and you have +told me little enough of them. Well, I insist that you shall tell me +the right by which you dare to say such things to me. I know you are +cruel, that you have no sympathy for any one but—yourself. I know +that you grudge the world every moment of happiness that life +contains. Well, all this I try to account for by crediting you with +having passed through troubles of which I have no knowledge. But it +does not give you the right to charge me with the things you do. You +shall tell me now the reason of your accusations, or I will leave this +home forever, and will never, of my own free will, set eyes on you +again.”</p> + +<p>Mercy’s thin lips parted into a half-smile.</p> + +<p>“And I intend that you shall know these things,” she replied promptly. +“You shall know them from my lips. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>Nor has any one more right to the +telling than I.” The smile died abruptly, leaving her burning eyes +shining in an icy setting. “I am cruel, eh?” she went on intensely. +“Cruel because I have refused to bend beneath the injustice of my +fellows and the persecutions of Fate. Cruel because I meet the world +in the spirit in which it has received me. Why should I have sympathy? +The world has robbed me of the only happiness I ever desired. What +obligation, then, is mine? You are right. I have no sympathy for any +living creature—none!”</p> + +<p>Joan offered no comment. She was waiting—waiting for the explanation +she had demanded. She was no longer the young girl just returned +flushed with the healthy glow of her morning ride. Life had taken on a +fresh tone for her since then. It seemed as if years had suddenly +passed over her head and carried her into the middle of life.</p> + +<p>“You shall have your explanation,” Mercy went on after a moment’s +pause. “I will give it you from the beginning. I will show you how it +comes that you are a pariah, shedding disaster upon all men who come +under your influence.”</p> + +<p>“A pariah!”</p> + +<p>Joan’s eyes suddenly lit with horror at the loathsome epithet.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Pariah!” There was no mistaking the satisfaction which the use +of the word seemed to give the other woman. In her eyes was a +challenge which defied all protest.</p> + +<p>As Joan had no further comment she went on—</p> + +<p>“But they were all blind—blind to the curse under which you were +born—under which you live. You shall <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>have your wish. You shall know +the right which I have for charging these things at your door. And the +knowledge of it will forever shatter the last castle of your +day-dreams.”</p> + +<p>Something of awe took hold of the listening girl. Something of terror, +too. What was the mystery into which she was blindly delving? Knowing +her aunt as she did, she felt, by her manner, that her words were the +prelude to disclosures that meant disaster to herself. And as the +other proceeded her half-frightened eyes watched her, fascinated by +the deliberateness of manner and the passionate sincerity underlying +every word of the story she told.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” she said, checking her voice to a low, even monotone. “You +are the child of disaster if ever woman was. Your father was a poor, +weak fool, a big, handsome, good-hearted fool whom Nature had endowed +with nothing more than a perfect exterior. He was a Wall Street man, +of a sort. One of those gamblers who live on the fringe of the big +financial circles, and most of whom gather their livelihood from the +crumbs falling from the rich man’s table, but are ready to steal them +when the fall is not sufficient to fill their hungry mouths. For three +years he and I were engaged to be married.”</p> + +<p>She paused, and her hot eyes dropped to the crystal in her lap. Then +she went on, with harsh sarcasm breaking the level of her tone—</p> + +<p>“For three years we waited for the coming of that trifling luck which +would enable us to marry. For three years I worked silently, joyfully, +to fill the wonderful bottom drawer which never failed to inspire me +with courage and hope. You see I—loved your father.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>Again she paused, and Joan forgot something of her own trouble as she +noted the evident pain these memories gave to her aunt.</p> + +<p>“The luck came. It was small enough. But with the little money I had +it was just sufficient. The license was procured. The wedding was +fixed. And I—well, God was good, the world was good, and life was a +joy beyond all dreams. You see I, too, was young then. My only +relative was a younger sister. She was a beautiful girl with red-gold +hair. And she was in business in California. I sent for her to come to +the wedding.”</p> + +<p>Joan gave a tense sigh. She knew what was to follow. The red-gold hair +told its own story. Mercy Lascelles raised a pair of stony eyes, and +her thin lips were smiling.</p> + +<p>“I can see you understand,” she said, without emotion. “Yes, she came, +and she stole your father from me. Oh, yes! she was handsome enough to +steal any man. She was even more beautiful than you are. It was just +before we were to be married. Less than a week. A good time to steal +him from me—after three years of waiting.” She laughed bitterly. “She +stole him, and I—I cursed her. Oh, I didn’t cry out! I simply cursed +her, I cursed her offspring, and burned every garment I had made or +bought for the wedding in my parlor stove. I sat by and watched the +fire as it hungrily devoured each record of my foolish day-dreams. And +as each one vanished in cinder and smoke I cursed her from the very +bottom of my heart.”</p> + +<p>The woman laughed again, and Joan could not repress a shudder at the +sound.</p> + +<p>“Twelve months she had of him. And during those twelve months both he +and she nearly drove me mad in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>their efforts to make me marry your +father’s great friend and fellow gambler. His name doesn’t matter. He +was a brown-haired creature, who was, if possible, a greater gambler +than your father. But unlike your father his luck was phenomenal. He +grew rich whilst Charles Stanmore, with every passing week, grew +poorer. And for twelve long months he persecuted me with his +attentions. He never left me alone. I sometimes think he was crazy in +his desire to marry me. He knew the whole of my wretched story, yet it +made no difference. He swore to me in his mildly deliberate way that I +should marry him. Perhaps I ought to have read the real character of +the man underlying his gentle manner, but, poor fool that I was, I +didn’t. It was left to later events to open my eyes, events which were +to teach me that under the guise of friendship he hated Charles +Stanmore, because—because, in spite of everything, I still loved him.</p> + +<p>“At the end of those twelve months my cup of bitterness was filled to +overflowing. You were born. You, with your deep-blue eyes and red-gold +hair. You, Charles Stanmore’s child—but not mine.”</p> + +<p>Her voice died out, and Joan understood something of the passion in +this strange woman’s soul. But the next moment a hard laugh jarred her +nerves. It was a laugh that had no mirth. Only was it an audible +expression designed to disguise real feelings.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I had no grudge against you. You—you with your crumpled face and +big blue eyes. You could make no difference to my life as I saw it. +And yet you did.” The woman’s fingers suddenly clutched the crystal in +her lap with a force that left the thin tips of them white and +bloodless. “You did. A difference that in my maddest <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>dreams I could +never have hoped for. You brought with you the curse of disaster from +which there was no escape for those to whom you belonged.</p> + +<p>“I can see it all now,” she went on exultingly. “I can see it as I saw +it then, every detail of it. Your father’s gambling had brought him +down to something like want. A week before you were born his home was +sold up, and he and your mother took shelter in a tiny three-roomed +apartment for which they had no money to pay the rent. In desperation +he came to <i>me</i>—to <i>me</i> for help. And I gave it him. The day before +you were born I gave him the money for the expenses of your birth and +to tide him over for three months. It was almost all I had in the +world.” Again came that mirthless laugh. Then she hurried on. “But the +temptation was too much for Charles Stanmore, gambler that he was. He +suddenly found himself with money in his pocket and hope in his +foolish soul. There was a big wheat operation going on at the moment, +and every penny of the money, along with all the credit he could +procure, he plunged into it.”</p> + +<p>“And lost it all?” Joan whispered.</p> + +<p>The other shook her head.</p> + +<p>“No. The influence of your strange fate was at work. On the day that +you saw light Charles Stanmore was a comparatively rich man. And your +mother—was dead.”</p> + +<p>Joan breathed a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>“Yes, wheat went up by leaps and bounds, and your father was delirious +with joy. He stood over you—I can see him now—and talked at you in +his foolish, extravagant way. ‘You’re the brightest, happiest, +luckiest little hoodlam that ever came into the world,’ he cried. ‘And +your name is “Golden,” my little Golden Woman, for if <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>ever there was +a golden kiddie in the world you are she. Gold? Why, you’ve showered +it on me. Luck? Why, I verily believe if you’d been around you’d have +brought luck to Jonah when he got mixed up with the whale’s +internals.’ And then, just as he finished, the bolt fell. The doctor +came in from the next room and took him aside. Your mother was dead.”</p> + +<p>A sob broke from the listening girl, a great sob of sympathy for the +kindly, weak, irresponsible father she had never known.</p> + +<p>“Your father’s disaster looked like my blessing. I had no regrets for +the woman,” Mercy went on. “He was mine now by every right. The thief +had come by her reckoning. So I seized the opportunity that was thrust +in my way. Mine was the right to care for him and help him in his +trouble, nor have I shame in saying that I took it.</p> + +<p>“But the curse of your life was working full and sure. But for your +existence I should never have taken that step. But for that step other +matters would never have occurred. When your father’s—friend +discovered what I had done his fury knew no bounds. His insults were +unforgettable—at least by me. But I persisted. For a great hope was +at work within me that now your mother was gone eventually Charles +Stanmore might come back to his allegiance, and I might step into her +place. It was a foolish hope, but—I loved your father.</p> + +<p>“Bah!” she went on impatiently. “It is no use raking amongst those +ashes. The details don’t matter to you. Those things are dead. And +only is their effect alive to-day. My hopes were never to be +fulfilled. How should they be with the curse of your father’s golden +girl involving <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>us all in disaster. Let me cut the wretched history as +short as I can. At first money was plentiful enough, and luck in that +direction seemed to border on the marvelous. To give you an instance +your father—imbecile that he was—swore he would test it in your own +interests. He hunted round till he found the most hair-brained, +wildcat company ever floated for the purpose of robbing moneyed fools, +and invested ten thousand dollars in it as a life-dowry for you. It +was the joke of all his gambling friends. It was like pitching dollar +bills into the Hudson. And then in a month the miraculous happened. +After a struggle the company boomed, and you were left with a +competence for life. Yes, at first money was plentiful enough, but +your father never got over his shock of your mother’s death. Sometimes +I used to think his brain was weakening. Anyway, he plunged into a +wild vortex of gambling. He drank heavily, and indulged himself in +excesses from which he had always kept clear up to that time. He took +to cards in a manner that frightened even me, used as I was to his +weaknesses. And in all these things his friend encouraged and indulged +him.</p> + +<p>“The end was not far off. How could it be? Your father’s luck waned +and his debauches increased. He grew nervous and worried. But he +persisted in his mode of life. Then, in a little while, I knew that he +was borrowing. He never touched your money. But he was borrowing +heavily. This man whom I had come to regard as his evil genius +undoubtedly lent him money—much money. Then came a particularly bad +time. For two days Charles Stanmore went about like a madman. What the +trouble was I never knew—except that it was a question of money. And +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>this terminated in the night of disaster toward which everything had +been driving.”</p> + +<p>Mercy Lascelles’ voice dropped to a low, ominous pitch, and she paused +as though to draw all the threads of memory into one firm grasp. Her +look, too, changed. But it was a change quite unnoticed by Joan.</p> + +<p>“It was one night in the apartment. I had gone to bed. They, your +father and his—friend, were in the parlor. They had quarreled during +the evening over some money affairs which I did not understand. Your +father was headstrong, as he always was, and the other, well, he +rarely raised his voice—he was one of those quiet men who disguise +their purposes under a calm atmosphere—as a rule. However, on this +occasion high words had passed, and I knew that stormy feelings were +underlying the calm which finally ensued. At last, when they sat down +to a heavy game of baccarat, I crept away to bed.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know how long I had been in bed when it happened. I know I +was asleep, for I wakened suddenly with a great sense of shock, and +sat up trying to realize what had happened. It took me some moments. I +know my mind ran over a dozen things before I decided what to do. I +remembered that we were alone in the place. The servants had been +dismissed more than a week before. There was only you, and your +father, and me in the place. Then I remembered that his friend was +there, and I had left them playing cards. Instantly I got out of bed. +I slipped on a dressing-gown and crept out into the passage. I moved +silently toward the door of the sitting-room. It was wide open. I had +left it shut. The gas was full on. I reached the door and cautiously +peered in. But there was no need for caution. Your father had fallen +forward <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>in his chair, and lay with his head, face downward, upon the +table. He was dead and—the other had gone. I ran to the dead man’s +side and raised him up. It was too late. All—all I had or cared for +in the world had been taken from me by the hand of the murderer.”</p> + +<p>“Murdered?” Joan whispered in horrified tones.</p> + +<p>“Yes, murdered!” came the swift, vehement retort. “Shot—shot through +the heart, and in the stomach—and his murderer had fled. Oh, God, +shall I ever forget that moment!”</p> + +<p>The woman fell back in her chair, her whole withered body shaking with +emotion. Then with an effort she pulled herself together and went on +more calmly—</p> + +<p>“I hardly know what I did. All I remember is that I gave the alarm, +and presently had the police there. I told them all I could, and gave +the name and description of—the man who had done the deed. But it was +useless. He had gone—bolted. Nor was he ever seen or heard of again. +The curse had worked out. You, your father’s golden girl, were left +orphaned to the care of the woman to whom your very existence was an +ineradicable wrong, and who, through your coming, had been robbed of +all that made life possible.”</p> + +<p>She raised her crystal and held it poised on the gathered finger-tips +of one hand. And when she spoke again her voice had gained strength +and tone.</p> + +<p>“Since those days I have learnt to read the words that are written by +the hand of Fate. And here—here is the open book. It is all here. The +storm of disaster that brought you into the world will dog your +footsteps. You are cursed with the luck that leads to disaster. +Wherever you go men will bless your name, and, almost in the same +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>breath, their blessings shall turn to the direst curses. It is not I +who am speaking. My tongue utters the words, but the writing of Fate +has been set forth for me to interpret. Wherever you go, wherever you +be, you cannot escape the destiny set out for you. I tell you you are +a leper, a pariah, whom all men, for their own safeguarding, must +shun.”</p> + +<p>All through the final pronouncement Joan sat transfixed with horror. A +leper! A pariah! Nor, in the light of those things which to her own +knowledge had happened, could she doubt the hideous denunciation. She +had heard and understood that ill-luck could and did pursue its +victims. But this! Oh, it was too terrible—too cruel! For an instant +she thought of the doctor and his words of warning. But one glance at +the bowed figure, again intent upon her crystal, and the thought +passed. The story she had listened to was too real, too full of those +things which had driven her poor aunt to her present unyielding +attitude toward the world to be the ravings of an insane mind. And +suddenly panic gripped her, that panic which, in a moment of weakness, +so easily tends toward self-destruction.</p> + +<p>“Is—is there no hope, auntie?” she asked helplessly.</p> + +<p>Mercy Lascelles looked up from the crystal. She eyed her niece +steadily, as though to read all there was hidden behind the desperate +blue eyes.</p> + +<p>Slowly she shook her head.</p> + +<p>Again came that spasm of panic, and Joan seemed to hurl her whole +young strength into denial.</p> + +<p>“But there is. There must be,” she cried, with a fierceness that held +the other in something like astonishment. “There must be,” she +reiterated desperately. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>“No God could be so cruel—so—so wicked. +What have I done to deserve this? The injustice is demoniacal. Far +better go and throw myself before a passing train than live to carry +such a pestilence with me wherever I go through life. If you can read +these things—read on. Read on and tell me, for I swear that I will +not live with this curse forever tied about my neck.”</p> + +<p>“You will live—you must live. It is written here.” Mercy pointed at +the crystal. Then she laughed her cold, mirthless laugh. “There was +one power that served me, that helped me to save my reason through all +those early days. God knows how it may help you—for I can’t see. I +loved your father with a passion nothing, no disaster could destroy. I +loved him so that I could crush every other feeling down, subservient +to my passion. Go you, child, and find such a love. Go you and find a +love so strong that no disaster can kill it. And maybe life may still +have some compensations for you, maybe it will lift the curse from +your suffering shoulders. It—it is the only thing in the world that +is stronger than disaster. It is the only thing in the world that is +stronger than—death.”</p> + +<p>Joan had no answer. She stared straight ahead of her, focusing some +trifling detail of the pattern on the wall paper. Her face was +stony—stony as the face of the woman who was watching her. The +moments passed rapidly. A minute passed, and neither spoke.</p> + +<p>Then at last the girl abruptly rose from her seat. Almost mechanically +she moved over to a mirror, and, removing her hat, deftly patted her +beautiful hair till it assumed its wonted appearance. And quite +suddenly she turned about.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>“I have nearly fifty thousand dollars, auntie. I am going to realize +that capital. I am going to leave this house—I am going to leave it +forever. I shall change my name, and cover up my tracks, for I intend +going where I am not known. I am going where men cannot figure in my +life, which I intend to begin all over again. The burden Fate has +imposed upon me is too great. I am going to run from it.”</p> + +<p>She laughed. And her laugh was as mirthless as her aunt’s had been.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>TWO MEN OF THE WILDERNESS</h3> + +<p>The westering sun was drooping heavily toward its fiery couch. The +purple of evening was deepening from the east, meeting and blending +softly with the gold of the dying day. A great furnace of ruddy cloud +rose above the mountain-tops, lighting the eternal snows of the peaks +and ancient glaciers with a wealth of kaleidoscopic color. Viewed from +the plains below there might have been a great fire raging among the +hill-caps, where only snow and ice could provide the fuel.</p> + +<p>The radiant colors of sunset held the quiet eyes of a solitary +horseman riding amidst the broken lands of the lesser foot-hills. He +was a big man, of powerful shoulders and stout limbs. He was a man of +fifty or thereabouts, yet his hair was snow white, a perfect mane that +reached low upon his neck, touching the soft collar of his cotton +shirt. His face was calm with something of the peace of the world +through which he was riding, something of the peace which comes to +those who have abandoned forever the strife of the busy life beyond. +It only needed the garb of the priest, and his appearance would have +matched perfectly his sobriquet, “the Padre.”</p> + +<p>But Moreton Kenyon was clad in the rough moleskin, the riding boots +and general make-up of the western life to which he belonged. Even he +carried the protecting firearms by which to administer the personal +laws of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>wilderness. His whole appearance, the very horse under +him, a prairie-bred broncho of excellent blood, suggested a man who +knew the life amidst which he lived, and was more than capable of +surviving it.</p> + +<p>Whatever his appearance, whatever his capacity for the rougher corners +of earth, Moreton Kenyon was a man of great kindliness, of great +sympathy, as the mission from which he was now returning might well +have testified. Those who knew him best held him in deep affection. +Those who knew him less withheld their judgment, but never failed to +treat him with a courtesy not usual amongst the derelicts of an +out-world camp.</p> + +<p>Just now something of the smallness of human life, of human aims and +efforts, of human emotions, was occupying the busy brain behind his +reflective eyes. The scene before him, upon which he had so often +looked, never failed to remind him of the greatness of that which lay +beyond the ken of man. Somehow it exalted his thoughts to planes to +which no association with his kind could ever have exalted them. It +never failed to inspire him with a reverence for the infinity of power +which crowned the glory of creation, and reduced self to a humble +realization of its atomic place in the great scheme of the Creator.</p> + +<p>His horse ambled easily over the ribbon-like trail, which seemed to +rise out of the eastern horizon from nowhere, and lose itself +somewhere ahead, amidst the dark masses of forest-crowned hills. The +journey was nearly over. Somewhere ahead lay the stable, which could +be reached at leisure in the cool of the evening, and neither master +nor beast seemed to feel the need for undue haste.</p> + +<p>As the light slowly faded out and left the snow-white hill-crests drab +with the gray of twilight, the man’s mind <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>reverted to those things +which had sent him on his journey. Many doubts had assailed him by the +way, doubts which set him debating with himself, but which rarely made +him turn from a purpose his mind was once set upon. He knew that his +action involved more than his own personal welfare, and herein had +lain the source of his doubt. But he had clearly argued every point +with himself, and through it all had felt the rightness of his +purpose.</p> + +<p>Then, too, he had had the support of that other with whom he was +concerned. And he smiled as he thought of the night when his decision +had been taken. Even now the picture remained in his mind of the eager +face of his youthful protégé as they discussed the matter. The younger +man had urged vehemently, protesting at every objection, that they two +had no right to live in comparative comfort with women and children +starving about them.</p> + +<p>He remembered young Buck’s eager eyes, large dark-brown eyes that +could light with sudden, almost volcanic heat, or smile their soft, +lazy smile of amusement at the quaintnesses of life about him. The +Padre understood the largeness of heart, the courage which urged him, +the singleness of purpose which was always his. Then, when their +decision had been taken, he remembered the abrupt falling back of the +man into the quiet, almost monosyllabic manner which usually belonged +to him.</p> + +<p>Yes, Buck was a good lad.</p> + +<p>The thought carried him back to days long gone by, to a time when a +lad of something less than eight years, clad in the stained and worn +garb of a prairie juvenile, his feet torn and bleeding, his large +brown eyes staring out of gaunt, hungry sockets, his thin, pinched, +sunburnt face <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>drawn by the ravages of starvation, had cheerfully +hailed him from beneath the shelter of a trail-side bush.</p> + +<p>That was nearly twenty years ago, but every detail of the meeting was +still fresh in his memory. His horse had shied at the sudden +challenge. He remembered he had thrashed the creature with his spurs. +And promptly had come the youthful protest.</p> + +<p>“Say, you needn’t to lick him, mister,” the boy piped in his thin +treble. “Guess he’ll stand if you talk to him.”</p> + +<p>Strangely enough the man had almost unconsciously obeyed the mandate. +And the memory of it made him smile now. Then had followed a dialogue, +which even now had power to stir every sympathy of his heart. He +started by casually questioning the starving apparition.</p> + +<p>“Where you from, sonny?” he asked.</p> + +<p>And with that unequivocal directness, which, after twenty years, still +remained with him, the boy flung out a thin arm in the direction of +the eastern horizon.</p> + +<p>“Back ther’, mister.”</p> + +<p>The natural sequence was to ask him whither he was bound, and his +answer came with a similar gesture with his other hand westward.</p> + +<p>“Yonder.”</p> + +<p>“But—but who’re your folks? Where are they?” the Padre had next +hazarded. And a world of desolation was contained in the lad’s +half-tearful reply—</p> + +<p>“Guess I ain’t got none. Pop an’ ma’s dead. Our farm was burnt right +out. Y’ see there was a prairie fire. It was at night, an’ we was +abed. Pop got me out, an’ went back for ma. I never see him agin. I +never see ma. An’ ther’ wa’an’t no farm left. Guess they’re sure +dead.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p><p>He fought the tears back manfully, in a way that set the Padre +marveling at his courage.</p> + +<p>After a moment he continued his interrogation.</p> + +<p>“What’s your name?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Buck,” came the frank response.</p> + +<p>“Buck—what?”</p> + +<p>“Buck—jest plain, mister.”</p> + +<p>“But your father’s name—what was that?”</p> + +<p>“Pop.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes. That’s what you called him. What did the folks call him?”</p> + +<p>“Ther’ wa’an’t no folks. Jest pop, an’ ma, an’ me.”</p> + +<p>A great lump had risen in the man’s throat as he looked down into +those honest, hungry eyes. And for a moment he was at a loss. But the +boy solved his dilemma in a way that proved the man in after-life.</p> + +<p>“Say, you ain’t a farmer?” he inquired, with a speculative glance over +his general outfit.</p> + +<p>“Well, I am—in a small way,” the Padre had replied, with a +half-smile.</p> + +<p>The boy brightened at once.</p> + +<p>“Then mebbe you can give me a job—I’m lookin’ for a job.”</p> + +<p>The wonder of it all brought a great smile of sympathy to the man’s +eyes now, as he thought of that little starving lad of eight years +old, homeless, wandering amidst the vastness of all that +world—looking for a “job.” It was stupendous, and he had sat +marveling until the lad brought him back to the business in hand.</p> + +<p>“Y’ see I kin milk—an’—an’ do chores around. Guess I can’t plough +yet. Pop allus said I was too little. But <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>mebbe I kin grow—later. +I—I don’t want no wages—on’y food. Guess I’m kind o’ hungry, +mister.”</p> + +<p>Nor, for a moment, could the man make any reply. The pathos of it all +held him in its grip. He leant over and groped in his saddle-bag for +the “hardtack” biscuits he always carried, and passed the lad a +handful.</p> + +<p>He remembered how the boy snatched the rough food from his hands. +There was something almost animal in the way he crammed his mouth +full, and nearly choked himself in his efforts to appease the craving +of his small, empty stomach. In those moments the man’s mind was made +up. He watched in silence while the biscuit vanished. Then he carried +out his purpose.</p> + +<p>“You can have a job,” he said. “I’ve only a small farm, but you can +come and help me with it.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean that, mister?” the boy asked, almost incredulously.</p> + +<p>Then, as the Padre had nodded, a sigh of thankfulness escaped the +young lips, which were still covered with the crumbs of his recent +meal.</p> + +<p>“Say, I’m glad. Y’ see I was gettin’ tired. An’ ther’ didn’t seem to +be no farms around—nor nuthin’. An’ it’s lonesome, too, at nights, +lyin’ around.”</p> + +<p>The man’s heart ached. He could stand no more of it.</p> + +<p>“How long have you been sleeping—out?”</p> + +<p>“Three nights, mister.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly the Padre reached out a hand.</p> + +<p>“Here, catch hold, and jump.”</p> + +<p>The boy caught the strong hand, and was promptly swung up into the +saddle behind his benefactor. The next moment they were speeding back +over the trail to the lad’s new home. Nor was the new-born hope solely +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>beating in the starving child’s heart. The lonely farmer felt that +somehow the day was brighter, and the green earth more beautiful—for +that meeting.</p> + +<p>Such had been the coming together of these two, and through all the +long years of weary toil since then they still remained together, +working shoulder to shoulder in a relationship that soon became +something like that of father and son. The Padre remained the +farmer—in a small way. But the boy—well, as had been prophesied by +his dead father, later on he grew big enough to plough the furrows of +life with a strong and sure hand.</p> + +<p>The man’s reflections were broken into abruptly. The time and distance +had passed more rapidly than he was aware of. The eager animal under +him raised its head, and, pricking its small ears and pulling heavily +on the reins, increased its pace to a gallop. Then it was that the +Padre became suddenly aware that the home stretch had been reached, +and before him lay a long, straight decline in the trail which split a +dense pine-wood bluff of considerable extent.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>A man was lounging astride of a fallen pine log. His lean shoulders +were propped against the parent stump. All about him were other stumps +left by those who had made the clearing in the woods. Beyond this the +shadowy deep of the woods ranged on every side, except where the red +sand of a trail broke the monotony of tone.</p> + +<p>Near by two horses stood tethered together by a leading rein. One was +a saddle-horse, and the other was equipped with a well-loaded +pack-saddle. It was no mean burden of provisions. The carcass of a +large, black-tailed deer sprawled across the back of the saddle, while +on one side <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>were secured three bags of flour, and on the other +several jack-rabbits were strung together. But the powerful beast +remained unconcernedly nibbling at the sparse green peeping here and +there through the carpet of rotting pine cones and needles which +covered the ground.</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes were half-closed, yet he was by no means drowsing. On +the contrary, his mind was essentially busy, and the occasional +puckering of his dark brows, and the tightening of his strong jaws, +suggested that his thoughts were not always pleasant.</p> + +<p>After a while he sat up. But his movement was only the restlessness +caused by the worry of his thought. And the gaze he turned upon his +foraging horses was quite preoccupied.</p> + +<p>A change, however, was not long in coming. Simultaneously both horses +threw up their heads, and one of them gave a sharp, comprehensive +snort. Instantly the man’s large brown eyes lit, and a pleasant +expectancy shone in their depths. He was on his feet in an instant, +and his tall figure became alert and vibrant with the lithe activity +which was so wonderfully displayed in his whole poise. He, too, had +become aware of a disturbing element in the silent depths of the +woods.</p> + +<p>He moved across to the trail, and, glancing down it, from out of the +silence reached him the distant, soft plod of hoofs in its heavy +covering of sand. His look of satisfaction deepened as he turned back +to his horses and tightened the cinchas of the saddles, and replaced +the bits in their mouths. Then he picked up the Winchester rifle +propped against a tree stump and turned again to the trail.</p> + +<p>A moment later another horseman appeared from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>beyond the fringe of +pines and drew up with an exclamation.</p> + +<p>“Why, Buck, I didn’t reckon to find you around here!” he cried +cordially.</p> + +<p>“No.” The young man smiled quietly up into the horseman’s face. The +welcome of his look was unmistakable. No words of his could have +expressed it better.</p> + +<p>The Padre sprang from his saddle with the lightness of a man of half +his years, and his eyes rested on the pack-saddle on Buck’s second +horse.</p> + +<p>“For the—folks?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Guess so. That’s the last of the flour.”</p> + +<p>For a moment a shadow passed across the Padre’s face. Then it as +suddenly brightened.</p> + +<p>“How’s things?” he demanded, in the stereotyped fashion of men who +greet when matters of importance must be discussed between them.</p> + +<p>“So,” responded Buck.</p> + +<p>The Padre glanced quickly round, and his eyes fell on the log which +had provided the other with a seat.</p> + +<p>“Guess there’s no hurry. Let’s sit,” he said, indicating the log. “I’m +a bit saddle weary.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded.</p> + +<p>They left the horses to their own devices, and moved across to the +log.</p> + +<p>“Quite a piece to Leeson Butte,” observed Buck casually, as he dropped +upon the log beside his friend.</p> + +<p>“It surely is,” replied the Padre, taking the young man in with a +quick, sidelong glance.</p> + +<p>Buck was good to look at, so strong, so calmly reliant. Every glance +of his big brown eyes suggested latent power. He was not strikingly +handsome, but the pronounced <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>nose, the level, wide brows, the firm +mouth and clean-shaven chin, lifted him far out of the common. He was +clad simply. But his dress was perfectly suitable to the life of the +farmer-hunter which was his. His white moleskin trousers were tucked +into the tops of his Wellington boots, and a cartridge belt, from +which hung a revolver and holster, was slung about his waist. His +upper covering was a simple, gray flannel shirt, gaping wide open +across his sunburnt chest, and his modest-hued silk handkerchief tied +loosely about his neck.</p> + +<p>“Leeson Butte’s getting quite a city,” Buck went on presently.</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” replied the Padre, still bent upon his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>After that it was quite a minute before either spoke. Yet there seemed +to be no awkwardness.</p> + +<p>Finally it was the Padre who broached the matters that lay between +them.</p> + +<p>“I got ten thousand dollars for it!” he said.</p> + +<p>“The farm?” Buck’s interrogation was purely mechanical. He knew well +enough that the other had purposely gone to Leeson Butte to sell the +farm on which they had both lived so long.</p> + +<p>The Padre nodded.</p> + +<p>“A fancy price,” he said. “The lawyers closed quick. It was a woman +bought it. I didn’t see her, though she was stopping at the hotel. I +figured on getting seven thousand five hundred dollars, and only asked +ten thousand dollars as a start. Guess the woman must have wanted it +bad. Maybe she’s heard they’re prospecting gold around. Well, anyway +she ought to get some luck with it, she’s made it easy for us to help +the folks.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p><p>Buck’s eyes were steadily fixed on the horses.</p> + +<p>“It makes me feel bad seeing those fellers chasin’ gold, and never a +color to show—an’ all the while their womenfolk an’ kiddies that thin +for food you can most see their shadows through ’em.”</p> + +<p>The eyes of the elder man brightened. The other’s words had helped to +hearten him. He had felt keenly the parting with his farm after all +those years of labor and association. Yet, to a mind such as his, it +had been impossible to do otherwise. How could he stand by watching a +small community, such as he was surrounded with, however misguided in +their search for gold, painfully and doggedly starving before his very +eyes? For the men perhaps his sympathy might have been less keen, but +the poor, long-suffering women and the helpless children—the thought +was too painful. No, he and Buck had but their two selves to think of. +They had powerful hands with which to help themselves. Those others +were helpless—the women and children.</p> + +<p>There was compensation in his sacrifice when he remembered the large +orders for edible stores he had placed with the merchants of Leeson +Butte before leaving that town.</p> + +<p>“There’s a heap of food coming along for them presently,” he said +after a pause.</p> + +<p>Buck nodded.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been settin’ that old fur fort to rights, way up in the hills +back ther’,” he said, pointing vaguely behind them. “Guess we’d best +move up ther’ now the farm’s—sold. We’ll need a few bits of furniture +from the farm. That right—now you’ve sold it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I made that arrangement. She didn’t seem to mind anything I +suggested. She must be a bully sort of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>woman. I’m sorry I didn’t see +her. The lawyer says she comes from St. Ellis.”</p> + +<p>“Young?” suggested Buck.</p> + +<p>The Padre shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t say so. A young woman with money wouldn’t be likely to +hide herself in these hills.”</p> + +<p>“That’s so. Guess it’s the gold fetching her—the gold that isn’t +here.”</p> + +<p>“Gold’s a cursed thing,” said the Padre reflectively.</p> + +<p>“Yet none of ’em seem to shy at the curse.” Buck smiled in his slow +way.</p> + +<p>“No. Not without experiencing it.” The Padre’s eyes were still +serious. Then he went on, “We shan’t farm any up there—at the fur +fort?”</p> + +<p>Buck shook his head.</p> + +<p>“It means clearing every inch of land we need. Guess we best hunt, as +we said. We’ll make out with pelts. There’s the whole mountains for +traps.”</p> + +<p>The other stared over at the horses, and his face was very grave. +After a while he turned directly to his companion, and his eyes were +mildly anxious.</p> + +<p>“See here, Buck,” he said, with what seemed unnecessary emphasis. +“I’ve thought a heap on the way back—home. It seems to me I’m not +acting square by you. And I’ve made up my mind.” He paused. Buck did +not change his position, and his eyes were carefully avoiding those of +his companion. Then the Padre went on with a decision that somehow +lacked confidence. “You must take half the money, and—and get busy +your own way. We’ve done farming, so there’s no reason for you to hang +around here. You’re a man now, and you’ve your way to make in the +world. You see, when we had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>the farm I thought it was good for you. +It would be yours when I died, and then who knows, in time, how +valuable it might become? Now it’s all different. You see the hills +are best for me.” He smiled strainedly. “They’ve always been good +friends to me. But——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you don’t fancy leavin’ the hills.” Buck’s eyes wore a curious +expression. They were half-smiling, half-angry. But the other could +not see them. The Padre jumped eagerly at his words.</p> + +<p>“Just so. I’ve known them so long now that there doesn’t seem to be +any other world for me. Even Leeson Butte makes me feel—er—strange.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded. Then he changed the subject.</p> + +<p>“Say, we don’t sleep at the farm to-night,” he said. “The blankets are +up at the old fort. That’s why I got around here. When’s she comin’ +along?”</p> + +<p>“In two or three days.” The Padre had no choice but to follow the +younger man’s lead. “She’s sending along a farm woman first. She’s +going to run the place herself.”</p> + +<p>“Ther’s no man comin’?” Buck half turned to his friend.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so.”</p> + +<p>“They can’t do it—hereabouts,” Buck retorted quickly. “That farm +needs a man.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Buck rose abruptly and went over to the horses.</p> + +<p>“Going?” inquired the Padre.</p> + +<p>“I’ll get along with the vittles, and hand ’em over to the boys. Guess +I’ll git back to the fort in a few hours.”</p> + +<p>The Padre sat hesitating. He watched the movements of his companion +without observing them.</p> + +<p>“Buck!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>The other paused as he was about to put his foot into the stirrup. He +glanced over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“About that money. There’s five thousand of it yours.”</p> + +<p>“Not on your life, Padre!”</p> + +<p>The elder man sighed as he stood up, and his look changed so that it +almost seemed as if a weight had been lifted from his mind. Their eyes +met as Buck swung himself into the saddle.</p> + +<p>“Then we’re going to the hills—together?” he said smilingly.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” responded Buck promptly. Then he added, “But we’re goin’ to +hunt—not farm.”</p> + +<p>His decisive manner left no room for doubt, and the Padre, moving over +to him, held out his hand. They gripped till the elder man winced.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad I found you on the trail that time,” he said, looking +squarely into the steady brown eyes. “I’ve always been glad, but—I’m +gladder still now.”</p> + +<p>“Me, too,” said Buck, with a light laugh. “Guess I’d have hated to ha’ +fed the coyotes.”</p> + +<p>Buck swung round to the trail, leading his packhorse, and the Padre +went back to his horse. Just as he was about to mount the younger +man’s voice reached him again. He paused.</p> + +<p>“Say, what’s the woman’s name?” Buck inquired.</p> + +<p>“Eh?” The Padre looked startled. “The woman that bought the farm?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—sure.”</p> + +<p>The elder man’s face flushed painfully. It was a curious sight. He +looked as stupidly guilty as any schoolboy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p><p>“I—I can’t say. I never asked.” He felt absurdly foolish and tried to +explain. “You see, I only dealt with the lawyer.”</p> + +<p>Buck shook his head, and smiled in his slow fashion.</p> + +<p>“Sold the farm, an’ don’t know who to! Gee!”</p> + +<p>It was good to hear his laugh as he rode away. The Padre watched him +till he was out of sight.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE STEEPS OF LIFE</h3> + +<p>Buck leant over his horse’s withers as the laboring creature clawed +tenaciously up the face of the rugged hill. His whole poise was that +of sympathetic straining. Nor were his eyes a whit less eager than +those of the faithful animal under him.</p> + +<p>He was making the last twenty yards of the climb up Devil’s Hill from +the side on which lay the new home adopted by the Padre and himself. +Hitherto this point of approach had been accepted as inaccessible for +a horseman, nor, until now, had Buck seen reason to dispute the +verdict. But, to-day, a sudden impulse had constrained him to make the +attempt, not from any vainglorious reason, or from the recklessness +which was so much a part of his nature, but simply that somewhere high +up on the great table-land at the summit of the hill he hoped to find +an answer to a riddle that was sorely puzzling him.</p> + +<p>It had been a great struggle even on the lower and more gradual +slopes, for the basaltic rocks were barren, and broken, and slippery. +There was no gripping soil, or natural foothold. Just the weather-worn +rocks which offered no grip to Cæsar’s metal-shod hoofs. Yet the +generous-hearted beast had floundered on up to the last stretch, where +the hill rose abruptly at a perilous angle.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible scramble. As he looked above, at the point where the +sky-line was cut by the broken rocks, even <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>the reckless heart of the +man quailed. Yet there was no turning back. To do so meant certain +disaster. No horse, however sure-footed, could ever hope to make the +descent by the way they had come. Buck had looked back just for one +brief second, but his eyes had instantly turned again for relief to +the heights above. Disaster lay behind him. To go on—well, if he +failed to reach the brow of the blackened hill it would mean disaster +anyway. And a smile of utter recklessness slowly lit his face.</p> + +<p>So, with set jaws and straining body, he urged Cæsar to a last supreme +effort, and the great black creature responded gallantly. With head +low to the ground, his muscles standing out like ropes upon his +shoulders, his forelegs bent like grappling-hooks, his quarters tucked +beneath him, he put his giant heart into the work. Step by step, inch +by inch he gained, yawing and sliding, stumbling and floundering, +making way where all way seemed impossible. Slowly they crept up, +slowly, slowly they neared that coveted line. Buck was breathing hard. +Cæsar was blowing and had thrown his mouth agape, a sign that beyond +this he could make no further effort. Five yards—two yards. The +jagged line seemed to come down to meet them. At last, with a final +spring, the great horse trampled it under foot.</p> + +<p>Buck heaved a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>“Gee!” he murmured. Then with the wide, black plain stretching before +him, its limits lost in a strange mist, he flung out of the saddle.</p> + +<p>He stared about him curiously. Devil’s Hill was in no way new to him. +Many a time he had visited its mysterious regions, but always had he +approached it from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>the prospecting camp, or his own farm, both of +which lay away on the northern side of it.</p> + +<p>A wide plateau, nearly two miles in extent, stretched out before him. +It was as flat as the proverbial board, with just one isolated rock +towering upon its bosom. This was the chief object of interest now. +Away in the distance he beheld its ghostly outline, almost lost in the +ruddy atmosphere which, just now, seemed to envelop the whole of that +Western world.</p> + +<p>It was a desolate scene. So desolate as to carry a strange sense of +depression to the heart of the horseman. There was not a tree in +sight—nor a single blade of grass. There was nothing but the funereal +black of basaltic rock, of which the hill seemed to be one solid mass. +Such was its desolation that even the horse seemed to be drooping at +the sight of it. It was always the same with Buck. There was an +influence about the place which always left him feeling rather +hopeless. He knew the old Indian stories of superstition. He knew the +awe in which the more ignorant among the white folk held this hill. +But these things left him unaffected. He only regarded it from his own +personal observations, which were not very enlivening.</p> + +<p>Apart from the fact that not one atom of vegetation would grow either +upon the surface or slopes of Devil’s Hill, no snows in winter had +ever been known to settle upon its uninviting bosom. Long before the +snow touched its surface, however low the temperature of the +atmosphere, however severe a blizzard might be raging—and the Montana +blizzards are notorious for their severity—the snow was turned to +water, and a deluge of rain hissed upon its surface.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>Then, too, there was that mystery rock in the distance of the great +plateau. It was one of Nature’s little enigmas with which she loves to +puzzle the mind of man. How came it there, shot up in the midst of +that wide, flat stretch of rock? It stood within a few hundred yards +of the eastern brink of the hill which, in its turn, was another +mystery. The eastern extremity was not a mere precipice, it was a vast +overhang which left Yellow Creek, upon whose banks the mining camps +were pitched, flowing beneath the roof of a giant tunnel supported by +a single side.</p> + +<p>The rock on the plateau reared its misshapen head to the heavens at a +height of something over two hundred feet, and its great base formed a +vast cavern out of which, fanwise, spread a lake of steaming water, +which flowed on to the very brink of the hill where it overshadowed +the creek below. Thus it was, more than half the lake was held +suspended in mid-air, with no other support than the parent hill from +which its bed projected. It was an awesome freak of nature, calculated +to astonish even eyes that were accustomed to the sight of it.</p> + +<p>But Buck was not thinking of these things now. He was looking at the +view. He was looking at the sky. He was looking from this great height +for an explanation of the curious, ruddy light in the sunless sky, the +teeming haze which weighted down the brain, and, with the slightest +movement, opened the pores of the skin and set the perspiration +streaming.</p> + +<p>In all his years of the Montana hills he had never experienced such a +curious atmospheric condition. Less than an hour ago he had left the +Padre at the fur fort under a blazing summer sky, with the crisp +mountain air <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>whipping in his nostrils. Then, quite of a sudden, had +come this change. There were no storm-clouds, and yet storm was in +every breath of the superheated air he took. There was no wind, nor +anything definite to alarm except this sudden blind heat and the +purple hue which seemed to have spread itself over the whole world. +Thus it was, as he neared the mysterious mountain, he had made up his +mind to its ascent in the hope of finding, there upon the unwholesome +plateau, the key to the atmospheric mystery.</p> + +<p>But none seemed to be forthcoming, so, turning at last to the patient +Cæsar, he once more returned to the saddle and rode on to the barren +shores of Devil’s Lake.</p> + +<p>The lake was a desolate spot. The waters stretched out before him, +still, and silent, and black. There was not even a ripple upon its +steaming surface. Here the haze hung as it always hung, and the cavern +was belching forth deep mists, like the breathing of some prehistoric +monster. He glanced up at the birdless rock above, and into the broken +outlines of it he read the distorted features of some baleful, living +creature, or some savage idol. But there was no answer here to the +questions of his mind, any more than there had been on the rest of the +plateau, so he rode on along the edge of the water.</p> + +<p>He reached the extreme end of the lake and paused again. He could go +no farther, for nothing but a rocky parapet, less than twenty feet +wide, barred the waters from tumbling headlong to the depths below.</p> + +<p>After a moment Cæsar grew restless, his equine nerves seemed to be on +a jangle, and the steadying hand of his master had no effect. His eyes +were wistful and dilated, and he glanced distrustfully from side to +side, snorting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>loudly his evident alarm. Buck moved him away from his +proximity to the water, and turned to a critical survey of the remoter +crests of the Rocky Mountains.</p> + +<p>The white snowcaps had gone. The purple of the lesser hills, usually +so delicate in their gradings, were lost in one monotony of dull red +light. The nearer distance was a mere world of ghostly shadows tinged +with the same threatening hue, and only the immediate neighborhood was +in any way clean cut and sharp to the eye. His brows drew together in +perplexity. Again, down there in the valley, beyond the brink of the +plateau, the dull red fog prevailed, and yet through it he could see +the dim picture of grass-land, of woods, of river, and the rising +slopes of more hills beyond.</p> + +<p>No, the secret of the atmospheric phenomenon was not up here, and it +was useless to waste more time. So he moved off, much to his impatient +horse’s relief, in a direction where he knew a gentle slope would lead +him from the hilltop to the neighborhood of the old farm and the ford +across Yellow Creek.</p> + +<p>But even this way the road required negotiation, for the same bald +rocks and barrenness offered no sure foothold. However, Cæsar was used +to this path, and made no mistakes. His master gave him his head, and, +with eyes to the ground, the sure-footed beast moved along with almost +cat-like certainty. At last the soft soil of the valley was reached +again, and once more the deepening woods swallowed them up.</p> + +<p>The end of Buck’s journey lay across Yellow Creek, where a few +miserable hovels sheltered a small community of starving gold-seekers, +and thither he now hastened. On his way he had a distant view of the +old farm. He <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>would have preferred to have avoided it, but that was +quite impossible. He had not yet got over the parting from it, which +had taken place the previous day. To him had fallen the lot of handing +it over to the farm-wife who had been sent on ahead from Leeson Butte +to prepare it for her employer’s coming. And the full sense of his +loss was still upon him. Wrong as he knew himself to be, he resented +the newcomer’s presence in his old home, and could not help regarding +her as something in the nature of a usurper.</p> + +<p>The camp to which he was riding was a wretched enough place. Nor could +Nature, here in her most luxuriant mood, relieve it from its sordid +aspect. A few of the huts were sheltered at the fringe of the dark +woods, but most were set out upon the foreground of grass, which +fronted the little stream.</p> + +<p>As Buck approached he could not help feeling that they were the most +deplorable huts ever built. They were like a number of inverted square +boxes, with roofs sloping from front to back. They were made out of +rough logs cut from the pine woods, roofed in with an ill-laid thatch +of mud and grass, supported on the lesser limbs cut from the trees +felled to supply the logs. How could such despairing hovels ever be +expected to shelter men marked out for success? There was disaster, +even tragedy, in every line of them. They were scarcely even shelters +from the elements. With their broken mud plaster, their doorless +entrances, their ill-laid thatch, they were surely little better than +sieves.</p> + +<p>Then their surroundings of garbage, their remnants of coarse garments +hanging out upon adjacent bushes, their lack of every outward sign of +industrial prosperity. No, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>to Buck’s sympathetic eyes, there was +tragedy written in every detail of the place.</p> + +<p>Were not these people a small band of regular tramp gold-seekers? What +was their outlook? What was their perspective? The tramp gold-seeker +is a creature apart from the rest of the laboring world. He is not an +ordinary worker seeking livelihood in a regular return from his daily +effort. He works under the influence of a craze that is little less +than disease. He could never content himself with stereotyped +employment.</p> + +<p>Besides, the rot of degradation soon seizes upon his moral nature. No +matter what his origin, what his upbringing, his education, his +pursuit of gold seems to have a deadening effect upon all his finer +instincts, and reduces him swiftly to little better than the original +animal. Civilization is forgotten, buried deep beneath a mire of moral +mud, accumulated in long years, and often in months only of +association with the derelicts and “hard cases” of the world. Rarely +enough, when Fortune’s pendulum swings toward one more favored +individual, a flickering desire to return to gentler paths will +momentarily stir amidst the mire, but it seldom amounts to more than +something in the nature of a drunkard’s dream in moments of sobriety, +and passes just as swiftly. The lustful animal appetite is too +powerful; it demands the sordid pleasures which the possession of gold +makes possible. Nor will it be satisfied with anything else. A tramp +gold-seeker is irreclaimable. His joy lies in his quest and the dreams +of fortune which are all too rarely fulfilled Every nerve centre is +drugged with his lust, and, like all decadents, he must fulfil the +destiny which his own original weakness has marked out for him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>Buck understood something of all this without reasoning it out in his +simple mind. He understood with a heart as reckless as their own, but +with a brain that had long since gathered strength from the gentle +wisdom of the man who was a sort of foster-father to him. He did not +pity. He felt he had no right to pity, but he had a deep sympathy and +love for the strongly human motives which stirred these people. +Success or failure, he saw them as men and women whose many +contradictory qualities made them intensely lovable and sometimes even +objects for respect, if for nothing else, at least for their very +hardihood and courage.</p> + +<p>He rode up to the largest hut, which stood beyond the shadow of a +group of pine-trees, and dropped out of the saddle. With careful +forethought he loosened the cinchas of Cæsar’s saddle and removed the +bit from his mouth. Then, with one last look at the purpling heavens, +he pushed aside the tattered blanket which hung across the doorway and +strode into the dimly-lit apartment.</p> + +<p>It was a silent greeting that welcomed him. His own “Howdy” met with +no verbal response. But every eye of the men lying about on blankets +outspread upon the dusty floor was turned in his direction.</p> + +<p>The scene was strange enough, but for Buck it had nothing new. The +gaunt faces and tattered clothing had long since ceased to drive him +to despairing protest. He knew, in their own phraseology, they were +“up against it”—the “it” in this case meaning the hideous spectre of +starvation. He glanced over the faces and counted seven of them. He +knew them all. But, drawing forward an upturned soap-box, he sat down +and addressed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>himself to Curly Saunders, who happened to be lying on +his elbow nearest the door.</p> + +<p>“Say, I just came along to give you word that vittles are on the way +from Leeson Butte,” he said, as though the fact was of no serious +importance.</p> + +<p>Curly, a short, thick-set man of enormous strength and round, youngish +face, eased himself into a half-sitting position. But before he could +answer another man, with iron-gray hair, sat up alertly and eyed their +visitor without much friendliness.</p> + +<p>“More o’ the Padre’s charity?” he said, in a manner that suggested +resentment at the benefit he had no intention of refusing. Curiously +enough, too, his careless method of expression in no way disguised the +natural refinement of his voice.</p> + +<p>Buck shook his head, and his eyes were cold.</p> + +<p>“Don’t guess there’s need of charity among friends, Beasley.”</p> + +<p>Beasley Melford laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh.</p> + +<p>“Guess it makes him feel good dopin’ out stuff to us same as if we was +bums,” he said harshly.</p> + +<p>“Shut up!” cried a voice from a remote corner. Buck looked over and +saw a lean, dark man hugging his knees and smoking a well-burnt briar +pipe. The same voice went on: “Guess you’d sicken most anybody, +Beasley. You got a mean mind. Guess the Padre’s a hell of a bully +feller.”</p> + +<p>“He sure is,” said Montana Ike, lolling over on to his side and +pushing his canvas kit-bag into a more comfortable position. “You was +sayin’ there was vittles comin’ along, Buck? Guess ther’ ain’t no +‘chawin’’ now?”</p> + +<p>“Tobacco, sure,” responded Buck with a smile.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p><p>One by one the men sat up on their frowsy blankets. The thought of +provisions seemed to have roused them from their lethargy. Buck’s eyes +wandered over the faces peering at him out of the murky shadows. The +squalor of the hut was painful, and, with the knowledge that help was +at hand, the sight struck him even more forcibly.</p> + +<p>“Quit work?” he asked a moment later, in his abrupt fashion.</p> + +<p>Somebody laughed.</p> + +<p>Buck looked round for an answer. And again his eyes caught the steely, +ironical gleam in the man Beasley’s.</p> + +<p>“The last o’ Slaney’s kids ‘passed in’ last night. Guess we’re goin’ +to bury her.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded. He had no words. But he carefully avoided looking in the +direction of Slaney Dick, who sat in a far corner smoking his pipe and +hugging his great knees.</p> + +<p>Beasley went on in the same half-mocking tone—</p> + +<p>“Guess it’s up to me to read the service over her.”</p> + +<p>“You!”</p> + +<p>Buck could not help the ejaculation. Beasley Melford was an unfrocked +Churchman. Nor was it known the reason of his dismissal from his +calling. All Buck knew was that Beasley was a man of particularly low +morals and detestable nature. The thought that he was to administer +the last rites of the Church over the dead body of a pure and innocent +infant set his every feeling in active protest. He turned to Slaney.</p> + +<p>“The Padre buried the others?” he said questioningly.</p> + +<p>It was Dick’s partner, Abe Allinson, who took it upon himself to +answer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>“Y’ see the Padre’s done a heap. Slaney’s missis didn’t guess we’d +orter worrit him. That’s how she said.”</p> + +<p>Buck suddenly swung round on Beasley.</p> + +<p>“Fix it for to-morrow, an’ the Padre’ll be right along.”</p> + +<p>He looked the ex-Churchman squarely in the eye. He was not making a +request. His words were an emphatic refusal to allow the other the +office. It was Slaney who answered him.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, “an’ the missis’ll be +glad, too.”</p> + +<p>After that nobody seemed inclined to break the silence. Nor was it +until somebody hawked and spat that the spell was broken.</p> + +<p>“We bin holdin’ a meetin’,” said Curly Saunders heavily. “Y’ see, it +ain’t no good.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded at the doorway.</p> + +<p>“You mean——?”</p> + +<p>“The prospect,” Beasley broke in and laughed. “Say, we sure been +suckers stayin’ around so long. Ther’ ain’t no gold within a hundred +miles of us. We’re just lyin’ rottin’ around like—stinkin’ sheep.”</p> + +<p>Curly nodded.</p> + +<p>“Sure. That’s why we held a meeting. We’re goin’ to up stakes an’ +git.”</p> + +<p>“Where to?”</p> + +<p>Buck’s quick inquiry met with a significant silence, which Montana Ike +finally broke.</p> + +<p>“See here,” he cried, with sudden force. “What’s the use in astin’ +fool questions? Ther’ ain’t no gold, ther’ ain’t nuthin’. We got color +fer scratchin’ when we first gathered around like skippin’ lambs, but +ther’s nuthin’ <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>under the surface, an’ the surface is played right +out. I tell you it’s a cursed hole. Jest look around. Look at yonder +Devil’s Hill. Wher’d you ever see the like? That’s it. Devil’s Hill. +Say, it’s a devil’s region, an’ everything to it belongs to the devil. +Ther’ ain’t nuthin’ fer us—nuthin’, but to die of starvin’. Ah, +psha’! It’s a lousy world. Gawd, when I think o’ the wimminfolk it +makes my liver heave. Say, some of them pore kiddies ain’t had milk +fer weeks, an’ we only ke’p ’em alive thro’ youse two fellers. Say,” +he went on, in a sudden burst of passion, “we got a right, same as +other folk, to live, an’ our kids has, an’ our wimmin too. Mebbe we +ain’t same as other folks, them folks with their kerridges an’ things +in cities, mebbe our kiddies ain’t got no names by the Chu’ch, an’ our +wimmin ain’t no Chu’ch writin’ fer sharin’ our blankets, but we got a +right to live, cos we’re made to live. An’ by Gee! I’m goin’ to live! +I tell youse folk right here, ther’s cattle, an’ ther’s horses, an’ +ther’s grain in this dogone land, an’ I’m goin’ to git what I need of +’em ef I’m gettin’ it at the end of a gun! That’s me, fellers, an’ +them as has the notion had best foller my trail.”</p> + +<p>The hungry eyes of the man shone in the dusk of the room. The harsh +lines of his weak face were desperate. Every word he said he meant, +and his whole protest was the just complaint of a man willing enough +to accept the battle as it came, but determined to save life itself by +any means to his hand.</p> + +<p>It was Beasley who caught at the suggestion.</p> + +<p>“You’ve grit, Ike, an’ guess I’m with you at any game like that.”</p> + +<p>Buck waited for the others. He had no wish to persuade <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>them to any +definite course. He had come there with definite instructions from the +Padre, and in his own time he would carry them out.</p> + +<p>A youngster, who had hitherto taken no part in the talk, suddenly +lifted a pair of heavy eyes from the torn pages of a five-cent novel.</p> + +<p>“Wal!” he cried abruptly. “Wot’s the use o’ gassin’? Let’s light right +out. That’s how we sed ’fore you come along, Buck.” He paused, and a +sly grin slowly spread over his features. Then, lowering his voice to +a persuasive note, he went on, “Here, fellers, mebbe ther’ ain’t +more’n cents among us. Wal, I’d sure say we best pool ’em, an’ I’ll +set right out over to Bay Creek an’ git whisky. I’ll make it in four +hours. Then we’ll hev jest one hell of a time to-night, an’ up stakes +in the morning, fer—fer any old place out o’ here. How’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Guess our few cents don’t matter, anyways,” agreed Curly, his dull +eyes brightening. “I’d say the Kid’s right. I ain’t lapped a sup o’ +rye in months.”</p> + +<p>“It ain’t bad fer Soapy,” agreed Beasley. “Wot say, boys?”</p> + +<p>He glanced round for approval and found it in every eye except +Slaney’s. The bereaved father seemed utterly indifferent to anything +except his own thoughts, which were of the little waxen face he had +watched grow paler and paler in his arms only yesterday morning, until +he had laid the poor little dead body in his weeping woman’s lap.</p> + +<p>Buck felt the time had come for him to interpose. He turned on Beasley +with unmistakable coldness.</p> + +<p>“Guess the Padre got the rest of his farm money yesterday—when the +woman came along,” he said. “An’ the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>vittles he ordered are on the +trail. I’d say you don’t need to light out—yet.”</p> + +<p>Beasley laughed offensively.</p> + +<p>“Still on the charity racket?” he sneered.</p> + +<p>Buck’s eyes lit with sudden anger.</p> + +<p>“You don’t need to touch the vittles,” he cried. “You haven’t any +woman, and no kiddies. Guess there’s nothing to keep you from getting +right out.”</p> + +<p>He eyed the man steadily, and then turned slowly to the others.</p> + +<p>“Here, boys, the Padre says the food and canned truck’ll be along +to-morrow morning. And you can divide it between you accordin’ to your +needs. If you want to get out it’ll help you on the road. And he’ll +hand each man a fifty-dollar bill, which’ll make things easier. If you +want to stop around, and give the hill another chance, why the fifty +each will make a grub stake.”</p> + +<p>The proposition was received in absolute silence. Even Beasley had no +sneering comment. The Kid’s eyes were widely watching Buck’s dark +face. Slaney had removed his pipe, and, for the moment, his own +troubles were forgotten under a sudden thrill of hope. Curly Saunders +sat up as though about to speak, but no words came. Abe Allinson, Ike, +and Blue Grass Pete contented themselves with staring their +astonishment at the Padre’s munificence. Finally Slaney hawked and +spat.</p> + +<p>“Seems to me,” he said, in his quiet, drawling voice, “the Padre sold +his farm to help us out.”</p> + +<p>“By Gee! that’s so,” exclaimed Curly, thumping a fist into the palm of +his other hand.</p> + +<p>The brightening eyes lit with hope. The whole atmosphere <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>of the place +seemed to have lost something of its depression.</p> + +<p>Ike shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I’m gettin’ out. But say, the Padre’s a bully feller.”</p> + +<p>Abe nodded.</p> + +<p>“Ike’s right. Slaney an’ me’s gettin’ out, too. Devil’s Hill’s a +cursed blank.”</p> + +<p>“Me, too,” broke in the Kid. “But say, wot about poolin’ our cents for +whisky?” he went on, his young mind still intent upon the contemplated +orgie.</p> + +<p>It was Buck who helped the wavering men to their decision. He +understood them. He understood their needs. The ethics of the +proposition did not trouble him. These men had reached a point where +they needed a support such as only the fiery spirits their stomachs +craved could give them. The Padre’s help would come afterward. At the +moment, after the long weeks of disappointment, they needed something +to lift them, even if it was only momentarily. He reached round to his +hip-pocket and pulled out two single-dollar bills and laid them on the +dusty ground in front of him.</p> + +<p>“Ante up, boys,” he said cheerfully. “Empty your dips. The Kid’s +right. An’ to-morrow you can sure choose what you’re going to do.” +Then he turned to the Kid. “My plug Cæsar’s outside. Guess you best +take him. He’ll make the journey in two hours. An’ you’ll need to +bustle him some, because ther’s a kind o’ storm gettin’ around right +smart. Eh?” He turned and glanced sharply at Beasley. “You got a +dollar?”</p> + +<p>“It’s fer whisky,” leered the ex-Churchman, as he laid the dirty paper +on the top of Buck’s.</p> + +<p>In two minutes the pooling was completed and the Kid <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>prepared to set +out. Eight dollars was all the meeting could muster—eight dollars +collected in small silver, which represented every cent these men +possessed in the world. Buck knew this. At least he could answer for +everybody except perhaps Beasley Melford. That wily individual he +believed was capable of anything. He was sure that he was capable of +accepting anything from anybody, while yet being in a position to more +than help himself.</p> + +<p>Buck went outside to see the Kid off, and some of the men had gathered +in the doorway. They watched the boy swing himself into the saddle, +and the desperate shadows had lightened on their hungry faces. The +buoyancy of their irresponsible natures was reasserting itself. That +bridge, which the Padre’s promise had erected between their despair +and the realms of hope, however slight its structure, was sufficient +to lift them once more to the lighter mood so natural to them.</p> + +<p>So their tongues were loosened, and they offered their messenger the +jest from which they could seldom long refrain, the coarse, +deep-throated jest which sprang from sheer animal spirits rather than +any subtlety of wit. They forgot for the time that until Buck’s coming +they had contemplated the burial of a comrade’s only remaining +offspring. They forgot that the grieving father was still within the +hut, his great jaws clenched upon the mouthpiece of his pipe, his +hollow eyes still gazing straight in front of him. That was their way. +There was a slight ray of hope for them, a brief respite. There was +the thought, too, of eight dollars’ worth of whisky, a just portion of +which was soon to be in each stomach.</p> + +<p>But Buck was not listening to them. He had almost <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>forgotten the +messenger riding away on his treasured horse, so occupied was he by +the further change that had occurred in the look of the sky and in the +atmosphere of the valley. Presently he lifted one strong, brown hand +to his forehead and wiped the beads of perspiration from it.</p> + +<p>“Phew! What heat! Here,” he cried, pointing at Devil’s Hill, away to +his left, “what d’you make of that?”</p> + +<p>For a moment all eyes followed the direction of his outstretched arm. +And slowly there grew in them a look of awe such as rarely found place +in their feelings.</p> + +<p>The crown of the hill, the whole of the vast, black plateau was +enveloped in a dense gray fog. Above that hung a mighty, thunderous +pall of purple storm-cloud. Back, away into the mountains in billowy +rolls it extended, until the whole distance was lost in a blackness as +of night.</p> + +<p>It was Curly Saunders who broke the awed silence.</p> + +<p>“Jumpin’ Mackinaw!” he cried. Then he looked after their departing +messenger. “Say, that feller oughtn’t to’ve gone to Bay Creek. He’ll +never make it.”</p> + +<p>Beasley, whose feelings were less susceptible, and whose mind was set +on the promised orgie, sneered at the other’s tone.</p> + +<p>“Skeered some, ain’t you? Tcha’! It’s jest wind——”</p> + +<p>But he never completed his sentence. At that instant the whole of the +heavens seemed to split and gape open. A shaft of light, extending +from horizon to horizon, paralyzed their vision. It was accompanied by +a crash of thunder that set their ear-drums well-nigh bursting. Both +lightning and the thunder lasted for what seemed interminable minutes +and left their senses dazed, and the earth <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>rocking beneath their +feet. Again came the blinding light, and again the thunder crashed. +Then, in a moment, panic had set in, and the tattered blanket had +fallen behind the last man as a rush was made for the doubtful shelter +of the hut.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>OUT OF THE STORM</h3> + +<p>The challenge had gone forth. In those two vivid shafts of light, in +the deafening peals of thunder the war of elements had been +proclaimed, and these men of the wilderness understood something of +their danger.</p> + +<p>Thereafter, for some moments, a threatening silence reigned +everywhere. The birds, the insects even, all life seemed to crouch, +hushed and expectant. The valley might have been the valley of death, +so still, so dark, so threatening was the superheated atmosphere that +hung over it.</p> + +<p>The men within the shelter of the hut waited, and only Buck and Blue +Grass Pete stood near the blanket-covered doorway. There was little +enough confidence in the inefficient shelter of the hut, but it was +their natural retreat and so they accepted it. Then the moment of +tension passed, and Buck, glancing swiftly round the hut, seized a +hammer and hastily secured the covering of the doorway.</p> + +<p>“She’ll be on us right smart,” he observed to Pete, who assisted him +while the others looked on.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Pete resignedly. “Guess we’re goin’ to git it good.” +There was not only resignation, but indifference in his tone.</p> + +<p>Buck glanced up at the roof, and the rest followed his gaze curiously. +He shook his head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>“It’s worse than——”</p> + +<p>But he did not finish what he had to say. A strange hissing broke from +the distance, like the sound of rushing water, and, with each passing +moment, it grew in volume until, out of the heart of it, a +deep-throated roar boomed over the hilltops.</p> + +<p>It was a great wind-storm leaping down from the everlasting snows of +the mountains, tearing its way through the lean branches of the +forest-tops, the wide-gaping valleys, and rushing up the hillsides +with a violence that tore limbs from the parent trunks and rooted out +trees that had withstood a thousand storms. It was the deep breath of +the storm fiend launched upon a defenseless earth, carrying wreck and +destruction whithersoever its blast was turned.</p> + +<p>“By Jing’!”</p> + +<p>It was Montana Ike who voiced the awe crowding every heart.</p> + +<p>But his exclamation brought the practical mind of Buck to +consideration of their needs. His eyes turned again to the roof, and +Pete voiced his thoughts.</p> + +<p>“She’ll carry away like—like a kite when it hits us,” he declared. +Several more pairs of eyes were turned helplessly upward. Suddenly +Buck swung round upon the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Here she comes,” he cried. “Holy——!”</p> + +<p>With a rush and a deafening roar the wind hit the building and set it +rocking. Buck and Pete flung themselves with arms outspread against +the ballooning blanket, and it held. Again the wind crashed against +the sides of the hut. Some one flung himself to the two men’s +assistance. Then came a ripping and tearing, and the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>thatch hissed +away on the breath of the storm like straw caught in a whirlwind. The +men gazed stupidly up at the blackened heavens, which were now like +night. There was nothing to be done. What could they do? They were +helpless. And not even a voice could make itself heard in the howling +of the wind as it shrieked about the angles of the building.</p> + +<p>Then came the rain. It fell in great drops whose sheer weight and size +carried them, at the moment of impact, through the ragged shirts to +the warm flesh beneath. In a second, it seemed, a waterspout was upon +them and was pouring its tide into the roofless hut.</p> + +<p>With the deluge, the elemental battle began in desperate earnest. Peal +after peal of thunder crashed directly overhead, and with it came such +a display of heavenly pyrotechnics that in their wildest moments these +men had never dreamed of. Their eyes were blinded, and their ear-drums +were bursting with the incessant hammering of the thunder.</p> + +<p>But the wind had passed on, shrieking and tearing its way into the dim +distance until its voice was utterly drowned in the sterner +detonations of the battle.</p> + +<p>Drenched to the skin, knee-deep in water, the men stood herded +together like sheep in a pen. Their blankets were awash and floated +about, tangling their legs in the miniature lake that could not find +rapid enough exit through the doorway. They could only stand there +stupidly. To go outside was to find no other shelter, and only the +more openly to expose themselves to the savage forks of lightning +playing across the heavens in such blinding streaks. Nor could they +help the women even if they needed help in the other huts. The roofs +and doors <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>would or would not hold, and, in the latter case, until the +force of the storm abated no help could serve them.</p> + +<p>The storm showed no signs of abatement. The black sky was the sky of +an unlit night. There was no lightening in any direction, and the +blinding flashes amidst the din of thunder only helped to further +intensify the pitchy vault. The splitting of trees amidst the chaos +reached the straining ears, and it was plain that every flash of light +was finding a billet for its forked tongue in the adjacent forests.</p> + +<p>The time dragged on. How long or how short was the period of the storm +none of the men wondered or cared. The rapidity of the thunder +crashes, the swift successions of lightning entirely held them, and, +strong as they were, these things kept their nerves jumping.</p> + +<p>Once in the midst of it all a man suddenly cried out. His cry came +with a more than usually brilliant flash of purplish, steel-blue fire. +The intensity of it carried pain to the now supersensitive nerves of +his vision, and he turned and flung himself with his face buried upon +his arm against the dripping wall. It was Beasley Melford. He stood +there cowering, a dreadful terror shaking his every nerve.</p> + +<p>The others turned stupidly in his direction, but none had thought for +his suffering. Each was hard pressed to face the terror of it all +himself; each was wondering at what moment his own limits would be +reached. Buck alone showed no sign of the nervous tension. His deep +brown eyes watched the group about him, automatically blinking with +every flash of light, and with only the slightest possible start as +the thunder crashed into his ears.</p> + +<p>He was thinking, too—thinking hard of many things. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>The Padre was out +in the hills with gun and traps. Would he have anticipated the swift +rising storm and regained the shelter of the stout old fort? With the +boom of falling trees going on about them, with the fiery crackle of +the blazing light as it hit the topmost branches of the adjacent +forest, he wondered and hoped, and feared for the old man in the same +thought.</p> + +<p>Then there were those others. The women and children in the other +huts. How were they faring? But he remembered that the married +quarters were better built than this hut had been, and he drew comfort +from the thought. And what of the Kid, and of Cæsar?</p> + +<p>More than two hours passed before any change came. The deafening peals +of thunder seemed as though they would never lessen in tone. The +night-like heavens seemed as though no sun could ever hope to +penetrate them again. And the streaming rain—was there ever such a +deluge since the old Biblical days!</p> + +<p>Buck understood now the nature of the storm. Probably twenty years +would elapse before another cloudburst would occur again, and the +thought set him speculating upon the effect this might have upon the +lake on Devil’s Hill. What might not happen? And then the creek below! +He remembered that these huts of the gold-seekers were on the +low-lying banks of the creek. What if it flooded? He stirred uneasily, +and, turning to the doorway, opened a loose fold in the blanket and +peered out.</p> + +<p>He saw the creek in a sudden blaze of light, and in that momentary +brilliance he saw that the rushing water was rising rapidly. A grave +feeling of uneasiness stirred him and he turned back to his +companions. For once in his life he felt utterly helpless.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>Another hour passed. The atmospheric heat had passed, and the men +stood shivering in the water. The chill was biting into their very +bones, but still there was no respite. Twice more Buck turned anxious +eyes upon the creek. And each time his alarm increased as the blinding +light revealed the rapid rise of the water. He dared not voice his +fears yet. He understood the condition of mind prevailing. To warn his +companions would be to set them rushing to get their womenfolk out of +their shelters, and this must not be thought of—yet.</p> + +<p>He had just arrived at the conclusion that he would abide by his next +observation when the long-looked-for change began. It came as suddenly +as the rising of the storm itself. It came in a rapid lightening of +the sky overhead. From black to gray it turned almost in a second. A +dull, ominous, rolling world of gray rain-clouds. The thunder died +away and the blinding flashes came no more. It was as though the storm +had been governed by one all-powerful will and the word to “cease +fire” had been hurled across the heavens as the last discharge of +monstrous artillery had been fired. Then, with the lifting of the +darkness, the rain slackened too, and the deluge eased.</p> + +<p>Buck sighed his relief, and Curly Saunders, from near by, audibly +expressed his.</p> + +<p>“She’s lettin’ up,” he growled.</p> + +<p>Pete caught at his words.</p> + +<p>“It sure is.”</p> + +<p>Buck was about to speak, but his lips remained open and he stood +listening.</p> + +<p>What was that?</p> + +<p>Something was moving beyond the doorway. Something <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>touched the +blanket as though seeking support. Then it slid down, its movement +visible in the bulging of the drenched cloth. This was followed by a +heavy, squelching flop. The body, whatever it was, had fallen into the +streaming water pouring from within the hut. Then came a long-drawn, +piteous moan that held the men gazing silently and stupidly at the +sagging blanket.</p> + +<p>It was while they stood thus that the rain ceased altogether, and the +great storm-clouds broke and began to disperse, and a watery sunbeam +lit the wreck of the passing storm. As its light poured in upon the +wretched interior a second moan, short and weak but distinctly +audible, reached the astounded ears of the men. There was a moment’s +pause as it died out, then Buck’s arm shot out, and, seizing the edge +of the blanket, he ripped it from its fastenings and let it fall to +the ground. Instantly every neck was set craning, and every eye was +alight with wonder, for there, half-resting upon the sill of the +doorway, and half-lying upon the ground with the water streaming +everywhere about her, lay the huddled, half-drowned figure of a young +woman.</p> + +<p>“It’s—it’s a—woman,” cried Pete stupidly, unable to contain his +astonishment longer.</p> + +<p>“It sure is,” murmured Curly, with equal brightness.</p> + +<p>But while they gave the company the benefit of their keenness of +perception Buck had dropped upon his knees and was bending over the +wretched victim of the storm. He raised her, and drew her tenderly +into his arms.</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t one of ours,” announced Ike over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“No.” Buck’s monosyllable displayed no great interest in his remark.</p> + +<p>Amidst a dead silence Buck suddenly straightened up, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>with the +dripping figure clasped tightly in his strong arms. A great pity shone +in his eyes as he gazed down into the fair young face. It was the +first time in all his life he had held a woman in his arms, and the +sensation of it made him forget those others about him.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Ike’s voice aroused him.</p> + +<p>“By Gar!” he cried. “Jest look at that red ha’r. Say, easy, boys, +we’re treadin’ it around in the mud.”</p> + +<p>It was true. The great masses of the girl’s red-gold hair had fallen +loose and were trailing in the water as Buck held her. It reached from +the man’s shoulder, where her head was pillowed, and the heavy-footed +men were trampling the ends of it into the mud. Ike stooped and +rescued the sodden mass, and laid it gently across Buck’s shoulders.</p> + +<p>For a moment the sun shone down upon the wondering group. The clouds +had broken completely, and were scattering in every direction as +though eager to escape observation after their recent shameful +display. No one seemed to think of moving out into the rapidly warming +open. They were content to gather about Buck’s tall figure and gape +down at the beautiful face of the girl lying in his arms.</p> + +<p>It was Beasley Melford who first became practical.</p> + +<p>“She’s alive, anyway,” he said. “Sort o’ stunned. Mebbe it’s the +lightnin’.”</p> + +<p>Pete turned, a withering glance upon his foxy face.</p> + +<p>“Lightnin’ nuthin’,” he cried scornfully. “If she’d bin hit she’d ha’ +bin black an’ dead. Why, she—she ain’t even brown. She’s white as +white.” His voice became softer, and he was no longer addressing the +ex-Churchman. “Did y’ ever see sech skin—so soft an’ white? <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>An’ that +ha’r, my word! I’d gamble a dollar her eyes is blue—ef she’d jest +open ’em.”</p> + +<p>He reached out a great dirty hand to touch the beautiful whiteness of +the girl’s throat with a caressing movement, but instantly Buck’s +voice, sharp and commanding, stayed his action.</p> + +<p>“Quit that!” he cried. “Ke’p your durned hands to yourself,” he added, +with a strange hoarseness.</p> + +<p>Pete’s eyes lit angrily.</p> + +<p>“Eh? What’s amiss?” he demanded. “Guess I ain’t no disease.”</p> + +<p>Beasley chuckled across at him, and the sound of his mirth infuriated +Buck. He understood the laugh and the meaning underlying it.</p> + +<p>“Buck turned wet nurse,” cried the ex-Churchman, as he beheld the +sudden flush on the youngster’s face.</p> + +<p>“You can ke’p your durned talk,” Buck cried. “You Beasley—and the lot +of you,” he went on recklessly. “She’s no ord’nary gal; she’s—she’s a +lady.”</p> + +<p>Curly and Ike nodded agreement.</p> + +<p>But Beasley, whatever his fears of the storm, understood the men of +his world. Nor had he any fear of them, and Buck’s threat only had the +effect of rousing the worst side of his nature, at all times very near +the surface.</p> + +<p>“Lady? Psha’! Write her down a woman, they’re all the same, only +dressed different. Seems to me it’s better they’re all just women. An’ +Pete’s good enough for any woman, eh, Pete? She’s just a nice, dandy +bit o’ soft flesh an’ blood, eh, Pete? Guess you like them sort, eh, +Pete?”</p> + +<p>The man’s laugh was a hideous thing to listen to, but Pete was not +listening. Buck heard, and his dark face <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>went ghastly pale, even +though his eyes were fixed on the beautiful face with its closed, +heavily-lashed eyes. Pete’s attention was held by the delicate +contours of her perfect figure and the gaping, bedraggled white +shirt-waist, where the soft flesh of her fair bosom showed through, +and the delicate lace and ribbons of her undergarments were left in +full view.</p> + +<p>No one offered Beasley encouragement and his laugh fell flat. And when +Curly spoke it was to express something of the general thought.</p> + +<p>“Wonder how she came here?” he said thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Seems as though the storm had kind o’ dumped her down,” Abe Allinson +admitted.</p> + +<p>Again Beasley chuckled.</p> + +<p>“Say, was ther’ ever such a miracle o’ foolishness as you fellers? You +make me laff—or tired, or something. Wher’d she come from? Ain’t the +Padre sold his farm?” he demanded, turning on Buck. “Ain’t he sold it +to a woman? An’ ain’t he expectin’ her along?”</p> + +<p>Buck withdrew his eyes from the beautiful face, and looked up in +answer to the challenge.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” he said, his look suddenly hardening as he confronted +Beasley’s face. “I had forgotten. This must surely be Miss—Miss Rest. +That’s the name Mrs. Ransford, the old woman at the farm, said. Rest.” +He repeated the name as though it were pleasant to his ears.</p> + +<p>“Course,” cried Curly cheerfully. “That’s who it is—sure.”</p> + +<p>“Rest, eh? Miss—Rest,” murmured the preoccupied Pete. Then he added, +half to himself, “My, but she’s a dandy! Ain’t—ain’t she a pictur’, +ain’t she——?”</p> + +<p>Buck suddenly pushed him aside, and his action was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>probably rougher +than he knew. But for some reason he did not care. For some reason he +had no thought for any one but the fair creature lying in his arms. +His head was throbbing with a strange excitement, and he moved swiftly +toward the door, anxious to leave the inquisitive eyes of his +companions behind him.</p> + +<p>As he reached the door Beasley’s hateful tones arrested him.</p> + +<p>“Say, you ain’t takin’ that pore thing up to the fort, are you?” he +jeered.</p> + +<p>Buck swung about with the swiftness of a panther. His eyes were ablaze +with a cold fire.</p> + +<p>“You rotten outlaw parson!” he cried.</p> + +<p>He waited for the insult to drive home. Then when he saw the fury in +the other’s face, a fury he intended to stir, he went on—</p> + +<p>“Another insinuation like that an’ I’ll shoot you like the dog you +are,” he cried, and without waiting for an answer he turned to the +others. “Say, fellers,” he went on, “I’m takin’ this gal wher’ she +belongs—down to the farm. I’m goin’ to hand her over to the old woman +there. An’ if I hear another filthy suggestion from this durned skunk +Beasley, what I said goes. It’s not a threat. It’s a promise, sure, +an’ I don’t ever forgit my promises.”</p> + +<p>Beasley’s face was livid, and he drew a sharp breath.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know ’bout promises,” he said fiercely. “But you won’t find +me fergittin’ much either.”</p> + +<p>Buck turned to the door again and threw his retort over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Then you sure won’t forgit I’ve told you what you are.”</p> + +<p>“I sure won’t.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p><p>Nor did Buck fail to appreciate the venom the other flung into his +words. But he was reckless—always reckless. And he hurried through +the doorway and strode off with his still unconscious burden.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>A SIMPLE MANHOOD</h3> + +<p>All thought of Beasley Melford quickly became lost in feelings of a +deeper and stronger nature as Buck passed out into the open. His was +not a nature to dwell unnecessarily upon the clashings of every-day +life. Such pinpricks were generally superficial, to be brushed aside +and treated without undue consideration until such time as some +resulting fester might gather and drastic action become necessary. The +fester had not yet gathered, therefore he set his quarrel aside for +the time when he could give it his undivided attention.</p> + +<p>As he strode away the world seemed very wide to Buck. So wide, indeed, +that he had no idea of its limits, nor any desire to seek them. He +preferred that his eyes should dwell only upon those things which +presented themselves before a plain, wholesome vision. He had no +desire to peer into the tainted recesses of any other life than that +which he had always known. And in his outlook was to be witnessed the +careful guidance of his friend, the Padre. Nor was his capacity +stunted thereby, nor his strong manhood. On the contrary, it left him +with a great reserve of power to fight his little battle of the +wilderness.</p> + +<p>Yet surely such a nature as his should have been dangerously open to +disaster. The guilelessness resulting from such a simplicity of life +ought surely to have fitted <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>him for a headlong rush into the pitfalls +which are ever awaiting the unwary. This might have been so in a man +of less strength, less reckless purpose. Therein lay his greatest +safeguard. His was the strength, the courage, the resource of a mind +trained in the hard school of the battle for existence in the +wilderness, where, without subtlety, without fear, he walked over +whatever path life offered him, ready to meet every obstruction, every +disaster, with invincible courage.</p> + +<p>It was through this very attitude that his threat against Beasley +Melford was not to be treated lightly. His comrades understood it. +Beasley himself knew it. Buck had assured him that he would shoot him +down like a dog if he offended against the unwritten laws of +instinctive chivalry as he understood them, and he would do it without +any compunction or fear of consequences.</p> + +<p>A woman’s fame to him was something too sacred to be lightly treated, +something quite above the mere consideration of life and death. The +latter was an ethical proposition which afforded him, where a high +principle was in the balance against it, no qualms whatsoever. It was +the inevitable result of his harsh training in the life that was his. +The hot, rich blood of strong manhood ran in his veins, but it was the +hot blood tempered with honesty and courage, and without one single +taint of meanness.</p> + +<p>As he passed down the river bank, beyond which the racing waters +flowed a veritable torrent, he saw the camp women moving about outside +their huts. He saw them wringing out their rain-drenched garments. +Thus he knew that the storm had served their miserable homes badly, +and he felt sorry for them.</p> + +<p>For the most part they were heavy, frowsy creatures, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>slatternly and +uncouth. They came generally from the dregs of frontier cities, or +were the sweepings of the open country, gleaned in the debauched +moments of the men who protected them. Nor, as his eyes wandered in +their direction, was it possible to help a comparison between them and +the burden of delicate womanhood he held in his arms, a comparison +which found them painfully wanting.</p> + +<p>He passed on under the bold scrutiny of those feminine eyes, but they +left him quite unconscious. His thoughts had drifted into a wonderful +dreamland of his own, a dreamland such as he had never visited before, +an unsuspected dreamland whose beauties could never again hold him as +they did now.</p> + +<p>The sparkling sunlight which had so swiftly followed in the wake of +the storm, lapping up the moisture of the drenching earth with its +fiery tongue, shed a radiance over the familiar landscape, so that it +revealed new and unsuspected beauties to his wondering eyes. How came +it that the world, his world, looked so fair? The distant hills, those +hills which had always thrilled his heart with the sombre note of +their magnificence, those hills which he had known since his earliest +childhood, with their black, awe-inspiring forests, they were somehow +different, so different.</p> + +<p>He traced the purple ridges step by step till they became a blurred, +gray monotony of tone fading away until it lost itself in the +glittering white of the snowcaps. Everything he beheld in a new light. +No longer did those hills represent the battle-ground where he and the +Padre fought out their meagre existence. They had suddenly become one +vast and beautiful garden where life became idyllic, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>where existence +changed to one long joy. The torrents had shrunk to gentle streams, +babbling their wonderful way through a fairy-land of scented gardens. +The old forceful tearing of a course through the granite hearts of the +hills was a thought of some long-forgotten age far back in the dim +recesses of memory. The gloom of the darkling forests, too, had passed +into the sunlit parks of delight. The rugged canyons had given place +to verdant valleys of succulent pasture. The very snows themselves, +those stupendous, changeless barriers, suggested nothing so much as +the white plains of perfect life.</p> + +<p>The old harsh lines of life had passed, and the sternness of the +endless battle had given way to an unaccountable joy.</p> + +<p>Every point that his delighted eyes dwelt upon was tinged with +something of the beatitude that stirred his senses. Every step he took +was something of an unreality. And every whispering sound in the +scented world through which he was passing found an echo of music in +his dreaming soul.</p> + +<p>Contact with the yielding burden lying so passive in his strong arms +filled him with a rapture such as he had never known. The thought of +sex was still far from his mind, and only was the manhood in him +yielding to the contact, and teaching him through the senses that +which his upbringing had sternly denied him.</p> + +<p>He gazed down upon the wonderful pale beauty of the girl’s face. He +saw the rich parted lips between which shone the ivory of her perfect, +even teeth. The hair, so rich and flowing, dancing with glittering +beams of golden light, as, stirring beneath the breath of the +mountains, it caught the reflection of a perfect sun.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p><p>How beautiful she was. How delicate. The wonderful, almost transparent +skin. He could trace the tangle of small blue veins like a fairy web +through which flowed the precious life that was hers. And her +eyes—those great, full, round pupils hidden beneath the veil of her +deeply-fringed lids! But he turned quickly from them, for he knew that +the moment she awoke his dream must pass into a memory.</p> + +<p>His gaze wandered to the swanlike roundness of her white throat, to +the gaping shirt-waist, where the delicate lace and tiny ribbon peeped +out at him. It was all so wonderful, so marvelous. And she was in his +arms—she, this beautiful stranger. Yet somehow she did not seem like +a stranger. To his inflamed fancy she seemed to have lain in his arms +all his life, all her life. No, she was no stranger. He felt that she +belonged to him, she was part of himself, his very life.</p> + +<p>Still she slept on. He suddenly found himself moving with greater +caution, and he knew he was dreading the moment when some foolish +stumble of his should bring her back to that life which he feared yet +longed to behold. He longed for the delight of watching the play of +emotions upon her lovely features, to hear her speak and laugh, and to +watch her smile. He feared, for he knew that with her waking those +delicious moments would be lost to him forever.</p> + +<p>So he dreamed on. In his inmost soul he knew he was dreaming, and, in +his reckless fashion, he desired the dream to remain unending. He saw +the old fur fort no longer the uncouth shelter of two lonely lives, +but a home made beautiful by a presence such as he had never dreamed +of, a presence that shed beauty upon all that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>came under the spell of +its influence. He pictured the warmth of delight which must be the +man’s who lived in such an atmosphere.</p> + +<p>His muscles thrilled at the thought of what a man might do under such +an inspiration. To what might he not aspire? To what heights might he +not soar? Success must be his. No disaster could come—</p> + +<p>The girl stirred in his arms. He distinctly felt the movement, and +looked down into her face with sudden apprehension. But his anxiety +was swiftly dispelled, and a tender smile at once replaced the look in +his dark eyes. No, she had not yet awakened, and so he was content.</p> + +<p>But the incident had brought him realization. His arms were stiff and +cramped, and he must rest them. Strong man that he was he had been +wholly unaware of the distance he had carried her.</p> + +<p>He gently laid her upon the grass and looked about him. Then it was +that wonder crept into his eyes. He was at the ford of the creek, more +than two miles from the camp, and on the hither bank, where the road +entered the water, a spring cart lay overturned and broken, with the +team of horses lying head down, buried beneath the turbulent waters as +they raced on down with the flood.</p> + +<p>Now he understood the full meaning of her presence in the camp. His +quick eyes took in every detail, and at once her coming was explained. +He turned back in the direction whence he had come, and his mind flew +to the distance of the ford from the camp. She had bravely faced a +struggle over two miles of a trail quite unknown to her when the worst +storm he had ever known was at its height. His eyes came back to the +face of the unconscious girl in even greater admiration.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p><p>“Not only beautiful but——”</p> + +<p>He turned away to the wreck, for there were still things he wished to +know. And as he glanced about him he became more fully aware of the +havoc of the storm. Even in the brilliant sunshine the whole prospect +looked woefully jaded. Everywhere the signs told their pitiful tale. +All along the river bank the torn and shattered pines drooped +dismally. Even as he stood there great tree trunks and limbs of trees +were washed down on the flood before his eyes. The banks were still +pouring with the drainings of the hills and adding their quota to the +swelling torrent.</p> + +<p>But the overturned spring cart held most interest just now, and he +moved over to it. The vehicle was a complete wreck, so complete, +indeed, that he wondered how the girl had escaped without injury. Two +trunks lay near by, evidently thrown out by the force of the upset, +and it pleased him to think that they had been saved to their owner. +He examined them closely. Yes, the contents were probably untouched by +the water. But what was this? The initials on the lid were “J. S.” The +girl’s name was Rest. At least so Mrs. Ransford had stated. He +wondered. Then his wonder passed. These were very likely trunks +borrowed for the journey. He remembered that the Padre had a leather +grip with other initials than his own upon it.</p> + +<p>Where was the teamster? He looked out at the racing waters, and the +question answered itself. Then he turned quickly to the girl. Poor +soul, he thought, her coming to the farm had been one series of +disasters. So, with an added tenderness, he stooped and lifted her +gently in his arms and proceeded on his way.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p><p>At last he came to the farm, which only that morning he had so eagerly +avoided. And his feelings were not at all unpleasant as he saw again +the familiar buildings. The rambling house he had known so long +inspired him with a fresh joy at the thought of its new occupant. He +remembered how it had grown from a log cabin, just such as the huts of +the gold-seekers, and how, with joy and pride, he and the Padre had +added to it and reconstructed as the years went by. He remembered the +time when he had planted the first wild cucumber, which afterward +became an annual function and never failed to cover the deep veranda +with each passing year. There, too, was the cabbage patch crowded with +a wealth of vegetables. And he remembered how careful he had been to +select a southern aspect for it. The small barns, the hog-pens, where +he could even now hear the grunting swine grumbling their hours away. +The corrals, two, across the creek, reached by a log bridge of their +own construction. Then, close by stood the nearly empty hay corrals, +waiting for this year’s crop. No, the sight of these things had no +regrets for him now. It was a pleasant thought that it was all so +orderly and flourishing, since this girl was its future mistress.</p> + +<p>He reached the veranda before his approach was realized by the +farm-wife within. Then, as his footsteps resounded on the rough +surface of the flooring of split logs, Mrs. Ransford came bustling out +of the parlor door.</p> + +<p>“Sakes on me!” she cried, as she beheld the burden in her visitor’s +arms. “If it ain’t Miss Rest all dead an’ done!” Her red hands went up +in the air with such a comical tragedy, and her big eyes performed +such a wide revolution in their fat, sunburnt setting that Buck +half-feared <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>an utter collapse. So he hurriedly sought to reassure +her, and offered a smiling encouragement.</p> + +<p>“I allow she’s mostly done, but I guess she’s not dead,” he said +quickly.</p> + +<p>The old woman heaved a tragic sigh.</p> + +<p>“My! but you made me turn right over, as the sayin’ is. You should ha’ +bin more careful, an’ me with my heart too, an’ all. The doctor told +me as I was never to have no shock to speak of. They might set up +hem—hemoritch or suthin’ o’ the heart, what might bring on +sing—sing—I know it was suthin’ to do with singin’, which means I’d +never live to see another storm like we just had, not if it sure come +on this minit——”</p> + +<p>“I’m real sorry, ma’m,” said Buck, smiling quietly at the old woman’s +volubility, but deliberately cutting it short. “I mean about the shock +racket. Y’ see she needs fixin’ right, an’ I guess it’s up to you to +git busy, while I go an’ haul her trunks up from the creek.”</p> + +<p>Again the woman’s eyes opened and rolled.</p> + +<p>“What they doin’ in the creek?” she demanded with sudden heat. “Who +put ’em ther’? Some scallawag, I’ll gamble. An’ you standin’ by seein’ +it done, as you might say. I never did see sech a place, nor sech +folk. To think o’ that pore gal a-settin’ watchin’ her trunks bein’ +pushed into the creek by a lot o’ loafin’ bums o’ miners, an’ no one +honest enough, nor man enough to raise a hand to—to——”</p> + +<p>“With respec’, ma’m, you’re talkin’ a heap o’ foolishness,” cried Buck +impatiently, his anxiety for the girl overcoming his deference for the +other’s sex. “If you’ll show me the lady’s room I’ll carry her right +into it an’ set her on her bed, an’——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p><p>“Mercy alive, what’s the world a-comin’ to!” cried the indignant +farm-wife. “Me let the likes o’ you into the gal’s bedroom! You? Guess +you need seein’ to by the State, as the sayin’ is. I never heard the +like of it. Never. An’ she jest a slip of a young gal, too, an’ all.”</p> + +<p>But Buck’s patience was quite exhausted, and, without a moment’s +hesitation, he brushed the well-meaning but voluble woman aside and +carried the girl into the house. He needed no guidance here. He knew +which was the best bedroom and walked straight into it. There he laid +the girl upon an old chintz-covered settee, so that her wet clothes +might be removed before she was placed into the neat white bed waiting +for her. And the clacking tongue of Ma Ransford pursued his every +movement.</p> + +<p>“It’s an insult,” she cried angrily. “An insult to me an’ mine, as you +might say. Me, who’s raised two daughters an’ one son, all of ’em +dead, more’s the pity. First you drown the gal an’ her baggage, an’ +then you git carryin’ her around, an’ walkin’ into her virgin bedroom +without no by your leave, nor nuthin’.”</p> + +<p>But Buck quite ignored her protests. He felt it was useless to +explain. So he turned back and gave his final instructions from the +doorway.</p> + +<p>“You jest get her right to bed, ma’m, an’ dose her,” he said amiably. +“I’d guess you best give her hot flannels an’ poultices an’ things +while I go fetch her trunks. After that I’ll send off to Bay Creek fer +the doctor. He ain’t much, but he’s better than the hoss doctor fer +womenfolk. Guess I’ll git back right away.”</p> + +<p>But the irate farm-wife, her round eyes blazing, slammed the door in +his face as she flung her final word after him.</p> + +<p>“You’ll git back nuthin’,” she cried furiously. “You <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>let me git you +back here agin an’ you’ll sure find a sort o’ first-class hell runnin’ +around, an’ you won’t need no hot flannels nor poultices to ke’p you +from freezin’ stone cold.”</p> + +<p>Then, with perfect calmness and astonishing skill, she flung herself +to the task of caring for her mistress in that practical, feminine +fashion which, though he may appreciate, no man has ever yet quite +understood.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE SECRET OF THE HILL</h3> + +<p>It was the morning following the great storm, a perfect day of +cloudless sunshine, and the Padre and Buck were on their way from the +fur fort to the camp. Their mission was to learn the decision of its +inhabitants as to their abandonment of the valley; and in the Padre’s +pocket was a large amount of money for distribution.</p> + +<p>The elder man’s spirits were quietly buoyant. Nor did there seem to be +much reason why they should be. But the Padre’s moods, even to his +friends, were difficult to account for. Buck, on the contrary, seemed +lost in a reverie which held him closely, and even tended to make his +manner brusque.</p> + +<p>But his friend, in the midst of his own cheerful feelings, would not +allow this to disturb him. Besides, he was a far shrewder man than his +simple manner suggested.</p> + +<p>“It’s well to be doing, lad,” he said, after some considerable +silence. “Makes you feel good. Makes you feel life’s worth a bigger +price than we mostly set it at.”</p> + +<p>His quiet eyes took the other in in a quick, sidelong glance. He saw +that Buck was steadily, but unseeingly, contemplating the black slopes +of Devil’s Hill, which now lay directly ahead.</p> + +<p>“Guess you aren’t feeling so good, boy?” he went on after a moment’s +thoughtful pause.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>The direct challenge brought a slow smile to Buck’s face, and he +answered with surprising energy—</p> + +<p>“Good? Why, I’m feelin’ that good I don’t guess even—even Beasley +could rile me this mornin’.”</p> + +<p>The Padre nodded with a responsive smile.</p> + +<p>“And Beasley can generally manage to rile you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, he’s got that way, surely,” laughed Buck frankly. “Y’ see +he’s—he’s pretty mean.”</p> + +<p>“I s’pose he is,” admitted the other. Then he turned his snow-white +head and glanced down at the lean flanks of Cæsar as the horse walked +easily beside his mare.</p> + +<p>“And that boy, Kid, was out in all that storm on your Cæsar,” he went +on, changing the subject quickly from the man whom he knew bore him an +absurd animosity. “A pretty great horse, Cæsar. He’s looking none the +worse for fetching that whisky either. Guess the boys’ll be getting +over their drunk by now. And it’s probably done ’em a heap of good. +You did right to encourage ’em. Maybe there’s folks would think +differently. But then they don’t just understand, eh?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Buck had once more returned to his reverie, and the Padre smiled. He +thought he understood. He had listened overnight to a full account of +the arrival of the new owner of their farm, and had gleaned some +details of her attractiveness and youth. He knew well enough how +surely the isolated mountain life Buck lived must have left him open +to strong impressions.</p> + +<p>They set their horses at a canter down the long declining trail which +ran straight into the valley above which Devil’s Hill reared its ugly +head. And as they went the signs of the storm lay everywhere about +them. Their <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>path was strewn with débris. The havoc was stupendous. +Tree trunks were lying about like scattered nine-pins. Riven trunks, +split like match-wood by the lightning, stood beside the trail, gaunt +and hopeless. Partially-severed limbs hung drooping, their weeping +foliage appealing to the stricken world about them for a sympathy +which none could give. Even the hard, sun-baked trail, hammered and +beaten to an iron consistency under a hundred suns of summer, was +scored with now dry water-courses nearly a foot deep. With all his +knowledge and long experience of the mountains even the Padre was +filled with awe at the memory of what he had witnessed.</p> + +<p>“Makes you think, Buck, doesn’t it?” he said, pointing at a stately +forest giant stretched prone along the edge of the trail, its proud +head biting deeply into the earth, and its vast roots lifting twenty +and more feet into the air. “I was out in the worst of it, too,” he +went on thoughtfully. Then he smiled at the recollection of his puny +affairs while the elements had waged their merciless war. “I was +taking a golden fox out of a trap, ’way back there on the side of the +third ridge. While I was doing it the first two crashes came. A +hundred and more yards away two pines, big fellers, guess they were +planted before the flood, were standing out solitary on a big rock +overhanging the valley below. They were there when I first bent over +the trap. When I stood up they were gone—rock and all. It made me +think then. Guess it makes me think more now.”</p> + +<p>“It surely was a storm,” agreed Buck absently.</p> + +<p>They reached the open valley, and here the signs were less, so, taking +advantage of the clearing, they set their horses at a fast gallop. +Their way took them skirting the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>great slope of the hill-base, and +every moment was bearing them on toward the old farm, for that way, +some distance beyond, lay the ford which they must cross to reach the +camp.</p> + +<p>Neither seemed inclined for further talk. Buck was looking straight +out ahead in the direction of the farm, and his preoccupation had +given place to a smile of anticipation. The Padre was intent upon the +black slopes of the hill. Farther along, the hill turned away toward +the creek, and the trail bore to the left, passing on the hither side +of a great bluff of woods which stretched right up to the very corrals +of the farm. It was here, too, where the overhang of the suspended +lake came into view, where Yellow Creek poured its swift, shallow +torrent in the shadowed twilight of the single-walled tunnel and the +gold-seekers held their operations in a vain quest of fortune.</p> + +<p>They had just come abreast of this point and the Padre was observing +the hill with that never-failing interest with which the scene always +filled him. He believed there was nothing like it in all the world, +and regarded it as a stupendous example of Nature’s engineering. But +now, without warning, his interest leapt to a pitch of wonderment that +set his nerves thrilling and filled his thoughtful eyes with an +unaccustomed light of excitement. One arm shot out mechanically, +pointing at the black rocks, and a deep sigh escaped him.</p> + +<p>“Mackinaw!” he cried, pulling his horse almost on to its haunches. +“Look at that!”</p> + +<p>Buck swung round, while Cæsar followed the mare’s example so abruptly +that his master was almost flung out of the saddle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>He, too, stared across in the direction indicated. And his whispered +exclamation was an echo of the other’s astonishment.</p> + +<p>“By the——!”</p> + +<p>Then on the instant an almost unconscious movement, simultaneously +executed, set their horses racing across the open in the direction of +the suspended lake.</p> + +<p>The powerful Cæsar, with his lighter burden, was the first to reach +the spot. He drew up more than two hundred yards from where the domed +roof forming the lake bed hung above the waters of the creek. He could +approach no nearer, and his rider sat gazing in wonder at the +spectacle of fallen rock and soil, and the shattered magnificence of +the acres of crushed and broken pine woods which lay before him.</p> + +<p>The whole face of the hill for hundreds and hundreds of feet along +this side had been ruthlessly rent from its place and flung broadcast +everywhere, and, in the chaos he beheld, Buck calculated that hundreds +of thousands of tons of the blackened rock and subsoil had been +dislodged by the tremendous fall.</p> + +<p>Just for an instant the word “washout” flashed through his mind. But +he dismissed it without further consideration. How could a washout +sever such rock? Even he doubted the possibility of lightning causing +such destruction. No, his thoughts flew to an earth disturbance of +some sort. But then, what of the lake? He gazed up at where the rocky +arch jutted out from the parent hill, and apprehension made him +involuntarily move his horse aside. But his observation had killed the +theory of an earth disturbance. Anything of that nature must have +brought the lake down. For the dislodgment began <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>under its very +shadow, and had even further deepened the yawning cavern beneath its +bed.</p> + +<p>The Padre’s voice finally broke his reflections, and its tone +suggested that he was far less awed, and, in consequence, his thoughts +were far more practical.</p> + +<p>“Their works are gone,” he said regretfully. “I’d say there’s not a +sluice-box nor a conduit left. Maybe even their tools are lost. Poor +devils!”</p> + +<p>The man’s calm words had their effect. Buck at once responded to the +practical suggestion.</p> + +<p>“They don’t leave their tools,” he said. Then he pointed up at the +lake. “Say, what if that had come down? What if the bowels o’ that +hill had opened up an’ the water been turned loose? What o’ the camp? +What o’ the women an’—the kiddies?”</p> + +<p>His imagination had been stirred again. Again the Padre’s practice +brought him back.</p> + +<p>“You don’t need to worry that way, boy. It hasn’t fallen. Guess the +earth don’t fancy turning her secrets loose all at once.”</p> + +<p>Buck sighed.</p> + +<p>“Yet I’d say the luck sure seems rotten enough.”</p> + +<p>There was no answer, and presently the Padre pointed at the face of +the hill.</p> + +<p>“It was a washout,” he said with quiet assurance. “See that face? It’s +softish soil. Some sort of gravelly stuff that the water got at. Sort +of gravel seam in the heart of the rock.”</p> + +<p>Buck followed the direction indicated and sat staring at it. Then +slowly a curious look of hope crept into his eyes. It was the fanciful +hope of the imaginative.</p> + +<p>“Here,” he cried suddenly, “let’s get a peek at it. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>Maybe—maybe the +luck ain’t as bad as we think.” And he laughed.</p> + +<p>“What d’you mean?” asked the Padre sharply.</p> + +<p>For answer he had to put up with a curt “Come on.” And the next moment +he was following in Cæsar’s wake as he picked his way rapidly amongst +the trees skirting the side of the wreckage. Their way lay inland from +the creek, for Buck intended to reach the cliff face on the western +side of the fall. It was difficult going, but, at the distance, safe +enough. Not until they drew in toward the broken face of the hill +would the danger really begin. There it was obvious enough to anybody. +The cliff was dangerously overhanging at many points. Doubtless the +saturation which had caused the fall had left many of those great +projections sufficiently loose to dislodge at any moment.</p> + +<p>Buck sought out what he considered to be the most available spot and +drew his horse up. The rest must be done on foot. No horse could hope +to struggle over such a chaotic path. At his suggestion both animals +were tethered within the shelter of trees. At least the trees would +afford some slight protection should any more of the cliff give way.</p> + +<p>In less than a quarter of an hour they stood a hundred feet from the +actual base of the cliff, and Buck turned to his friend.</p> + +<p>“See that patch up there,” he said, pointing at a spread of reddish +surface which seemed to be minutely studded with white specks. “Guess +a peek at it won’t hurt. Seems to me it’s about ten or twelve feet up. +Guess ther’ ain’t need for two of us climbin’ that way. You best wait +right here, an’ I’ll git around again after a while.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>The Padre surveyed the patch, and his eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>“Ten or twelve feet?” he said doubtfully. “Twenty-five.”</p> + +<p>“May be.”</p> + +<p>“You think it’s——?”</p> + +<p>Buck laughed lightly.</p> + +<p>“Can’t say what it is—from here.”</p> + +<p>The other sat down on an adjacent rock.</p> + +<p>“Get right ahead. I’ll wait.”</p> + +<p>Buck hurried away, and for some moments the Padre watched his slim +figure, as, scrambling, stumbling, clinging, he made his way to where +the real climb was to begin. Nor was it until he saw the tall figure +halt under an overhanging rock, which seemed to jut right out over his +head, and look up for the course he must take in the final climb, that +Buck’s actual danger came home to the onlooker. He was very little +more given to realizing personal danger than Buck himself, but now a +sudden apprehension for the climber gripped him sharply.</p> + +<p>He stirred uneasily as he saw the strong hands reach up and clutch the +jutting facets. He even opened his mouth to offer a warning as he saw +the heavily-booted feet mount to their first foothold. But he +refrained. He realized it might be disconcerting. A few breathless +moments passed as Buck mounted foot by foot. Then came the thing the +Padre dreaded. The youngster’s hold broke, and a rock hurtled by him +from under his hand and very nearly dislodged him altogether.</p> + +<p>In an instant the Padre was on his feet with the useless intention of +going to his aid, but, even as he stood up, his own feet shot from +under him, and he fell back heavily upon the rock from which he had +just risen.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>With an impatient exclamation he looked down to discover the cause of +his mishap. There it lay, a loose stone of yellowish hue. He stooped +to remove it, and, in a moment, his irritation was forgotten. In a +moment everything else was forgotten. Buck was forgotten. The peril of +the hill. The cliff itself. For the moment he was lifted out of +himself. Years had passed away, his years of life in those hills. And +something of the romantic dreams of his early youth thrilled him once +again.</p> + +<p>He stood up bearing the cause of his mishap clasped in his two hands +and stared down at it. Then, after a long while, he looked up at the +climbing man. He stood there quite still, watching his movements with +unseeing eyes. His interest was gone. The danger had somehow become +nothing now. There was no longer any thought of the active figure +moving up the face of the hill with cat-like clinging hands and feet. +There was no longer thought for his success or failure.</p> + +<p>Buck reached his goal. He examined the auriferous facet with close +scrutiny and satisfaction. Then he began the descent, and in two +minutes he stood once more beside the Padre.</p> + +<p>“It’s high-grade quartz,” he cried jubilantly as he came up.</p> + +<p>The Padre nodded, his mind on other things.</p> + +<p>“I’d say the luck’s changed,” Buck went on, full of his own discovery +and not noticing the other’s abstraction. He was enjoying the thought +of the news he had to convey to the starving camp. “I’d say there’s +gold in plenty hereabouts and the washout——”</p> + +<p>The Padre suddenly thrust out his two hands which <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>were still grasping +the cause of his discomfiture. He thrust them out so that Buck could +not possibly mistake the movement.</p> + +<p>“There surely is—right here,” he said slowly.</p> + +<p>Buck gasped. Then, with shining eyes, he took what the other was +holding into his own two hands.</p> + +<p>“Gold!” he cried as he looked down upon the dull yellow mass.</p> + +<p>“And sixty ounces if there’s a pennyweight,” added the Padre +exultantly. “You see I—I fell over it,” he explained, his quiet eyes +twinkling.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>GATHERING FOR THE FEAST</h3> + +<p>Two hours later saw an extraordinary change at the foot of Devil’s +Hill. The wonder of the “washout” had passed. Its awe was no longer +upon the human mind. The men of the camp regarded it with no more +thought than if the destruction had been caused by mere blasting +operations. They were not interested in the power causing the wreck, +but only in their own motives, their own greedy longings, their own +lust for the banquet of gold outspread before their ravening eyes.</p> + +<p>The Padre watched these people his news had brought to the hill with +tolerant, kindly eye. He saw them scattered like a small swarm of bees +in the immensity of the ruin wrought by the storm. They had for the +time forgotten him, they had forgotten everything in the wild moment +of long-pent passions unloosed—the danger which overhung them, their +past trials, their half-starved bodies, their recent sufferings. These +things were thrust behind them, they were of the past. Their present +was an insatiable hunger for finds such as had been thrust before +their yearning eyes less than an hour ago.</p> + +<p>He stood by and viewed the spectacle with a mind undisturbed, with a +gentle philosophy inspired by an experience which he alone could +appreciate. It was a wonderful sight. The effort, the haste, the +almost insane intentness of these people seeking the yellow metal, the +discovery <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>of which was the whole bounds of their horizon. He felt +that it was good to see them. Good that these untamed passions should +be allowed full sway. He felt that such as these were the advance +guard of all human enterprise. Theirs was the effort, theirs the +hardship, the risk; and after them would come the trained mind, +perhaps the less honest mind, the mind which must harness the result +of their haphazard efforts to the process of civilization’s evolution. +He even fancied he saw something of the influence of this day’s work +upon the future of that mountain world.</p> + +<p>But there was regret too in his thought. It was regret at the +impossibility of these pioneers ever enjoying the full fruits of their +labors. They would enjoy them in their own way, at the moment, but +such enjoyment was not adequate reward for their daring, their +sacrifice, their hardihood. Well enough he knew that they were but the +toilers in a weed-grown vineyard, and that it would fall to the lot of +the skilled husbandman to be the man who reaped the harvest.</p> + +<p>It was a picture that would remain long enough in his memory. The +flaying picks rising and falling amongst the looser débris, the +grinding scrape of the shovel, turning again and again the heavy red +gravel. The shouts of hoarse voices hailing each other in jubilant +tones, voices thrilling with a note of hope such as they had not known +for weeks. He saw the hard muscles of sunburnt arms standing out +rope-like with the terrific labor they were engaged in. And in the +background of it all he saw the grim spectacle of the blackened hill, +frowning down like some evil monster, watching the vermin life eating +into a sore it was powerless to protect.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p><p>It was wonderful, the transformation of these things. And yet it was +far less strange than his witness of the spectacle of the beaten, +hopeless men he had helped so long up in the camp. He was glad.</p> + +<p>He was glad, too, that even Buck had been caught in the fever of the +moment. He saw him with the rest, with borrowed tools, working with a +vigor and enthusiasm quite unsurpassed by the most ardent of the +professional gold-seekers. Yet he knew how little the man was tainted +with the disease of these others. He had no understanding whatever of +the meaning of wealth. And the greed of gold had left him quite +untouched. His was the virile, healthy enthusiasm for a quest for +something which was hidden there in the wonderful auriferous soil, a +quest that the heart of any live man is ever powerless to resist.</p> + +<p>With him it would last till sundown, maybe, and after that the fever +would pass from his veins. Then the claims of the life that had always +been his would reassert themselves.</p> + +<p>After a while the Padre’s thoughts drifted to the pressing +considerations of the future. Several times he had heard the shouts of +men who had turned a nugget up in the gravel. And at each such cry he +had seen the rush of others, and the feverish manner in which they +took possession of the spot where the lucky individual was working and +hustled him out. It was in these rushes that he saw the danger lying +ahead.</p> + +<p>Hitherto these men had been accustomed to the slow process of washing +“pay-dirt.” It was not only slow, but unemotional. It had not the +power to stir the senses to a pitch of excitement like this veritable +Tom Tiddler’s ground, pitchforked into their very laps by one of +Nature’s freakish impulses.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>With this thought came something very like regret at the apparent +richness of the find. Something must be done, and done without delay, +to regulate the situation. The place must be arranged in claims, and +definite regulations must be laid down and enforced by a council of +the majority. He felt instinctively that this would be the only way to +avert a state of anarchy too appalling to contemplate. It would be an +easy matter now, but a hopeless task to attempt later on. Yes, a big +trouble lay in those rushes, which seemed harmless enough at present. +And he knew that his must be the work of straightening out the +threatened tangle.</p> + +<p>But for the moment the fever must be allowed to run riot. It must work +itself out with the physical effort of hard muscles. In the calm of +rest after labor counsel might be offered and listened to. But not +until then.</p> + +<p>So that memorable day wore on to its close. The luck had come not in +the petty find such as these men had looked for, but in proportions of +prodigal generosity such as Nature sometimes loves to bestow upon +those whom she has hit the hardest. She had called to her aid those +strange powers of which she is mistress and hurled them headlong to do +her bidding. She had bestowed her august consent, and lo, the earth +was opened, and its wealth poured out at the very feet of those who +had so long and so vainly sought it.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>SOLVING THE RIDDLE</h3> + +<p>The new owner of the Padre’s farm had quite recovered from the effects +of her disastrous journey. Youth and a sound constitution, and the +overwhelming ministrations of Mrs. Ransford had done all that was +needed to restore her.</p> + +<p>She was sitting in an old, much-repaired rocking-chair, in what was +obviously the farm’s “best” bedroom. Her trunks, faithfully recovered +from the wreck of the cart by the only too willing Buck, stood open on +the floor amidst a chaotic setting of their contents, while the old +farm-wife herself stood over them, much in the attitude of a faithful +and determined watch-dog.</p> + +<p>The girl looked on indifferent to the confusion and to the damage +being perpetrated before her very eyes. She was lost in thoughts of +her own which had nothing to do with such fripperies as lawns, and +silks, and <i>suèdes</i>, or any other such feminine excitements. She was +struggling with recollection, and endeavoring to conjure it. There was +a blank in her life, a blank of some hours, which, try as she would, +she could not fill in. It was a blank, as far as she could make out, +which terminated in her arrival at the farm <i>borne in the arms of some +strange man</i>.</p> + +<p>Well might such a thought shut out considerations like the almost +certain destruction of a mere wardrobe at the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>hands of her ignorant +but well-meaning helper. It would have been exciting, too, but for her +memory of the latter stages of her journey. They were still painful. +There was still uncertainty as to what had happened to the teamster +and the horses.</p> + +<p>At last, however, she abandoned further attempt to solve the riddle +unaided, and decided to question her housekeeper.</p> + +<p>“Was it the same man who brought those trunks—I mean the same man +who—brought me here?” she demanded sharply.</p> + +<p>“It surely was,” replied Mrs. Ransford, desisting for a moment from +her efforts to bestow a pile of dainty shoes into a night-dress case +of elaborate drawn thread work. “An’ a nice mess he’s got things in. +Jest look at ’em all tossed about, same as you might toss slap-jacks, +as the sayin’ is. It’s a mercy of heaven, an’ no thanks to him, you’ve +got a rag fit to wear. It surely ain’t fer me to say it, but it’s real +lucky I’m here to put things right for you. Drat them shoes! I don’t +guess I’ll ever git ’em all into this bag, miss—ma’m—I mean miss, +mum.”</p> + +<p>Something of the tragedy of her wardrobe became evident to the girl +and she went to the rescue.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry, but they don’t go in there,” she said, feeling that an +apology was due for her interference in such well-intended efforts. +“That’s—you see, that’s my sleeping-suit case,” she added gently.</p> + +<p>“Sleepin’-soot?” A pair of round, wondering eyes stared out through +the old woman’s glasses.</p> + +<p>The girl pointed at the silk trousers and jacket lying just inside the +nearest trunk, and the farm-wife picked them up gingerly, letting them +unfold as she did so. Just <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>for one moment she inspected them, then +she hurriedly let them drop back into the trunk as though they were +some dangerous reptile, and, folding her arms, glared into the girl’s +smiling face in comical reproach.</p> + +<p>“You sure don’t wear them pants, miss—at night? Not reely?” she +exclaimed in horrified tones.</p> + +<p>The girl’s smile hardened.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes. Lots of girls wear sleeping-suits nowadays.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t say!”</p> + +<p>The old woman pursed up her lips in strong disapproval. Then, with a +disdainful sniff, she went on—</p> + +<p>“Wot gals ain’t comin’ to I don’t know, I’m sure. Wot with silk next +their skin an’ them draughty stockin’s, as you might say, things is +gettin’ to a pretty pass. Say, I wouldn’t put myself into them pants, +no, not if the President o’ the United States was to stand over me an’ +wouldn’t let me put on nuthin’ else.”</p> + +<p>The girl refrained from reply, but the obvious impossibility of the +feat appealed to her sense of humor. However, the solution of her +riddle was of prevailing interest, so she returned again to her +questioning.</p> + +<p>“Did he say how he found me?” she demanded. “Did he tell you any—any +particulars of what happened to the cart, and—and the teamster?”</p> + +<p>“No, ma’m—miss, beggin’ your pardin,—that he didn’t. I never see +sech a fresh feller outside a noospaper office. An’ him the owner of +this farm that was, but isn’t, as you might say. You take my word for +it he’ll come to a bad end, he sure will. Wot with them wicked eyes of +his, an’ that black, Dago-lookin’ hair. I never did see a feller who +looked more like a scallawag than him. Makes me <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>shiver to think of +him a-carryin’ you in his two arms. Wher’ from sez I—<i>an’ why</i>?”</p> + +<p>“Because I couldn’t walk, I expect,” the girl replied easily.</p> + +<p>The farm-wife shook a fat, warning finger at her.</p> + +<p>“Oh, ma’m—miss—that’s wot he says! You jest wait till you’ve got +more experience o’ scallawags like him an’ you’ll sure know. Wot I sez +is men’s that full o’ tricks wher’ females is to be deceived it ’ud +take ’em a summer vacation sortin’ ’emselves out. Men is shockin’ +scallawags,” she finished up, flinging the shoes pell-mell into the +open trunk.</p> + +<p>A further rescue of her property was necessary and the girl protested.</p> + +<p>“Please don’t bother any more with those clothes,” she cried +hurriedly. “I’ll see to them myself.” Then, as the woman proceeded to +mop her perspiring brow with a pair of silk stockings, she sprang up +and thrust a hand-towel toward her. “Use this; you’ll find it more +absorbent than—er—silk.”</p> + +<p>The old woman thanked her profusely, and made the exchange. And when +the operation was completed the relieved girl returned to her seat and +went on with her examination.</p> + +<p>“What did you say his name was?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say. An’ he didn’t tell me, neither. Fellers like him ain’t +never ready with their names. Maybe he calls himself Moreton Kenyon. +Y’ see he was the same as handed the farm over, an’ you tol’ me, back +ther’ in Leeson Butte, you’d bo’t Moreton Kenyon’s farm. ‘Moreton +Kenyon!’ Sort o’ high-soundin’ name for such a scallawag. I don’t +never trust high-soundin’ names. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>They’re most like whitewash. You +allus set that sort o’ stuff on hog-pens an’ sech, as you might say.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he’s not as bad as you suspect,” the girl suggested kindly. +“Lots of good people start by making a bad impression.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what that means,” cried the other promptly. “But I do +know what a scallawag is, an’ that’s him.”</p> + +<p>It was useless to seek further information from such a source, so the +girl abandoned the attempt, and dismissed the pig-headed housekeeper +to her work, work which she felt she was far better suited to than +such a delicate operation as the straightening out a wardrobe.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Ransford had taken her unwilling departure, not without +several well-meaning protests, the girl bent her own energies to +restoring order to her wardrobe. Nor was it an easy task. The +masculine manner of the bedroom left much to be desired in those +little depositories and cupboards, without which no woman can live in +comfort. And during the process of disposing her belongings many +mental notes were made for future alterations in the furnishings of +her new abode.</p> + +<p>It was not a bad room, however. The simplicity and cleanliness of it +struck wholesomely upon her. Yes, in spite of what her lieutenant had +said about him, Mr. Moreton Kenyon was certainly a man of some +refinement. She had never heard that such neatness and cleanliness was +the habit amongst small bachelor farmers in the outlands of the West. +And this was the man who had carried her—where from?</p> + +<p>Again she sat down in the rocker and gave herself up to the puzzlement +of those hours of her unconsciousness. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>The last event that was clear +in her mind was the struggle of the teamster to keep his horses +head-on for the bank of the flooded river. She remembered the surging +waters, she remembered that the bottom of the cart was awash, and that +she sat with her feet lifted and resting on the side of the vehicle. +She remembered that the horses were swimming before the driver’s +flogging whip and blasphemous shoutings. All this was plain enough +still. Then came the man’s order to herself. He warned her to get +ready to jump, and she had been quick to realize the necessity. In +spite of the horses’ wildest struggles the cart was being washed +down-stream. Then had come his final shout. And she had jumped on the +instant.</p> + +<p>At this point of her recollections things became confused. She had a +hazy memory of floundering in the water, also she remembered a heavy +blow on the shoulder. Then some one seemed to seize hold of her. It +must have been the teamster, though she did not remember seeing him in +the water. How she got out was a mystery to her. Again it must have +been the teamster. Then what of him? Mrs. Ransford had not spoken of +him. Had he, too, escaped? or had he—she shuddered. For some moments +her thoughts depressed her. The thought of a brave man’s life +sacrificed for her was too terrible.</p> + +<p>But after a while she continued in a lighter strain. It was at this +point that the blank began. True, she seemed to have some dim +recollection of a rough hut. It seemed to be made of logs. Then, too, +she had a dreamy sort of cognizance of a number of men’s voices +talking. Then—no, there was nothing more after that. Nothing until +she awoke and found herself in bed, with a strange doctor standing +over her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p><p>It was all very puzzling, but—she turned toward the window as the +afternoon sun fell athwart it and lit the plain interior of her new +bedroom, searching the corners and the simple furnishings of the +carpetless room.</p> + +<p>From where she sat she could see the barns and corrals, and beyond +them the heavy-hued pine woods. Then, away out far, far in the +distance, the endless white snowcaps of the purpling hills. What a +scene to her unaccustomed eyes. The breadth of it. The immensity.</p> + +<p>She drew a deep breath and sat up.</p> + +<p>She was dressed in a simple white shirt-waist and blue serge skirt, +and her masses of red-gold hair were loosely coiled about her +well-shaped head. The eager light of interest in her violet eyes lit +her beautiful young face, lending it an animation which added a +wonderful vitality to her natural beauty. The firm, rich lips were +parted eagerly. The wide-open eyes, so deeply intelligent, shone with +a lustre of delight there was no mistaking. Her rounded bosom rose and +fell rapidly as the glad thought flew through her brain that +this—this was her new home, where she was to forget the past and shut +out all recollection of that evil shadow which had so long pursued +her.</p> + +<p>Yes, this was the beginning of her new life. Joan Stanmore was dead, +and out of the ashes had arisen Joan Rest, ready to face the world in +a spirit of well-doing bachelorhood. Here, here in the wild mountain +world, where men were few and apart from her old life, she could face +the future with perfect confidence.</p> + +<p>She breathed a deep sigh of contentment and lolled back in the rocker, +dropping her eyes from the snow-crowned hills to the precious little +farm that was all hers. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>Then, in an instant, she sat up again as the +tall figure of a young man appeared round the corner of the barn.</p> + +<p>For some moments she followed his movements wonderingly. He walked +straight over to the hay corral with long, easy strides. There was +none of the slouch of a man idling about him. His whole attitude was +full of distinct purpose. She saw him enter the corral and mount the +half-cut haystack, and proceed to cut deeper into it. A moment later +he pitched the loose hay to the ground, and himself slid down on to +it. Then, stooping, he gathered it in his arms and left the corral.</p> + +<p>Now she saw his face for the first time. It was dark. Nor could she be +certain that his coloring was due to sunburn. His eyes were dark, too, +and his hair. He was a good-looking man, she decided, and quite young. +But how tall. And what shoulders. She wondered who he was, and what he +was doing on her farm.</p> + +<p>Then, of a sudden, she remembered she had spoken of a hired man to +Mrs. Ransford. Had she——?</p> + +<p>Her reflections were cut short by the sudden appearance of the +farm-wife from the house. The old woman trotted hastily across the +yard toward the barn, her fat sides shaking as she waddled, and her +short, stout arms violently gesticulating. Joan needed nothing more +than the good woman’s back view to tell her that the dame was very +angry, and that it was the stranger who had inspired her wrath. She +waited, smiling, for the <i>dénouement</i>.</p> + +<p>It came quickly. It came with the reappearance of the stranger round +the corner of the barn. What a splendid specimen of a man, she +thought, as she watched the expression of unruffled calm on his strong +features. His shirt sleeves were rolled well up above his elbows, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>even at that distance she could see the deep furrows in his arms +where the rope-like muscles stood out beneath the thin, almost +delicate skin.</p> + +<p>But her attention was quickly diverted by the clacking of the +farm-wife’s tongue. She could hear it where she sat with the window +tight shut. And though she could not hear the words it was plain +enough from the violence of her gesticulations that she was rating the +patient man soundly. So patent was it, so dreadful, that even in her +keenest interest Joan found herself wondering if Mr. Ransford were +dead, and hoping that, if he were, his decease had occurred in early +youth.</p> + +<p>Nor had the man made any attempt at response. She was sure of it, +because she had watched his firm lips, and they had not moved. Perhaps +he had found retort impossible. It was quite possible, for the other +had not paused a moment in her tirade. What a flow. It was colossal, +stupendous. Joan felt sorry for the man.</p> + +<p>What a patience he had. Nor had his expression once altered. He merely +displayed the thoughtful attention that one might bestow, listening to +a brilliant conversationalist or an interesting story. It was too +ridiculous, and Joan began to laugh.</p> + +<p>Then the end came abruptly and without warning. Mrs. Ransford just +swung about and trotted furiously back to the house. Her face was +flaming, and her fat arms, flourishing like unlimber flails, were +pointing every verbal threat she hurled over her shoulder at the spot +where the man had stood. Yes, he had vanished again round the corner +of the barn, and the poor woman’s best efforts were quite lost upon +the warm summer air.</p> + +<p>But her purpose was obvious, and Joan prepared herself <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>for a +whirlwind visitation. Nor had she long to wait. There was a shuffling +of feet out in the passage, and, the next moment, the door of her room +was unceremoniously flung open and the indignant woman staggered in.</p> + +<p>“Well, of all the impidence, of all the sass, of all the ignorant bums +that ever I——!” She exploded, and stood panting under the strain of +her furious emotions.</p> + +<p>But Joan felt she really must assert herself. This sort of reign of +terror must not go on.</p> + +<p>“Don’t fluster yourself, Mrs. Ransford,” she said calmly. “I’ll see to +the matter myself.”</p> + +<p>But she might as well have attempted to stem the tide of the river +that had wrecked her journey as stay the irate woman’s tongue.</p> + +<p>“But it’s him!” she cried. “Him, that low-down scallawag that carried +you in his arms an’ walked right into this yere bedroom an’ laid you +on your own virgin bed without no by your leave nor nuthin’. Him, as +saw your trunks drownded an’ you all mussed up with water, without +raisin’ a hand to help, ’less it was to push you further under——”</p> + +<p>But Joan was equal to no more. She pushed the well-meaning creature on +one side and hurried out of the house, while the echoes of the other’s +scathing indictment died down behind her.</p> + +<p>Joan did not hesitate. It was not her way to hesitate about anything +when her mind was made up. And just now she was determined to find out +the real story of what had happened to her. She was interested. This +man had carried her. He had brought her trunks up. And—yes, she liked +the look of him.</p> + +<p>But she felt it necessary to approach the matter with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>becoming +dignity. She was not given much to standing on her dignity, but she +felt that in her association with the men of these parts she must +harden herself to it. All friendships with men were banned. This she +was quite decided upon. And she sighed as she passed round the angle +of the barn.</p> + +<p>Her sigh died at its birth, however, and she was brought to a short +and terrified halt. Two prongs of a hayfork gleamed viciously within +three inches of her horrified eyes, and, behind them, with eyes no +less horrified, stood the dark-haired stranger.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE SHADOW OF THE PAST</h3> + +<p>The gleaming prongs of the fork were sharply withdrawn, and a pleasant +voice greeted the girl.</p> + +<p>“Guess that was a near thing,” it said half-warningly.</p> + +<p>Joan had started back, but at the sound of the voice she quickly +recovered herself.</p> + +<p>“It was,” she agreed. Then as she looked into the smiling eyes of the +stranger she began to laugh.</p> + +<p>“Another inch an’ more an’ you’d sure have been all mussed up on that +pile of barn litter,” he went on, joining in her laugh.</p> + +<p>“I s’pose I should,” Joan nodded, her mirth promptly sobering to a +broad smile.</p> + +<p>She had almost forgotten her purpose so taken up was she in observing +this “scallawag,” as Mrs. Ransford had called him. Nor did it take her +impressionable nature more than a second to decide that her worthy +housekeeper was something in the nature of a thoroughly stupid woman. +She liked the look of him. She liked his easy manner. More than all +she liked the confident look of his dark eyes and his sunburnt face, +so full of strength.</p> + +<p>“Hayforks are cussed things anyway,” the man said, flinging the +implement aside as though it had offended him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p><p>Joan watched him. She was wondering how best to approach the questions +in her mind. Somehow they did not come as easily as she had +anticipated. It was one thing to make up her mind beforehand, and +another to put her decision into execution. He was certainly not the +rough, uncouth man she had expected to find. True, his language was +the language of the prairie, and his clothes, yes, they surely +belonged to his surroundings, but there was none of the uncleanness +about them she had anticipated.</p> + +<p>It was his general manner, however, that affected her chiefly. How +tall and strong he was, and the wonderful sunburn on his clean-cut +face and massive arms! Then he had such an air of reserve. No, it was +not easy.</p> + +<p>Finally, she decided to temporize, and wait for an opening. And in +that she knew in her heart she was yielding to weakness.</p> + +<p>“My housekeeper tells me it was you who handed the farm over to her?” +she said interrogatively.</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes began to twinkle again.</p> + +<p>“Was that your—housekeeper?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Yes—Mrs. Ransford.”</p> + +<p>Joan felt even less at her ease confronted by those twinkling eyes.</p> + +<p>“She’s a—bright woman.”</p> + +<p>The man casually picked up a straw and began to chew it.</p> + +<p>Joan saw that he was smiling broadly, and resented it. So she threw +all the dignity she could summon into her next question.</p> + +<p>“Then you must be Mr. Moreton Kenyon!” she said.</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>“Wrong. That’s the ‘Padre,’” he announced curtly.</p> + +<p>Joan forgot her resentment in her surprise.</p> + +<p>“The ‘Padre’! Why, I thought Mr. Kenyon was a farmer!”</p> + +<p>The man nodded.</p> + +<p>“So he is. You see folks call him Padre because he’s a real good +feller,” he explained. Then he added: “He’s got white hair, too. A +whole heap of it. That sort o’ clinched it.”</p> + +<p>The dark eyes had become quite serious again. There was even a tender +light in them as he searched the girl’s fair face. He was wondering +what was yet to come. He was wondering how this interview was to bear +on the future. In spite of his easy manner he dreaded lest the threats +of Mrs. Ransford were about to be put into execution.</p> + +<p>Joan accepted his explanation.</p> + +<p>“I see,” she said. Then, after a pause: “Then who are you?”</p> + +<p>“Me? Oh, I’m ‘Buck,’” he responded, with a short laugh.</p> + +<p>“Buck—who?”</p> + +<p>“Jest plain ‘Buck.’” Again came that short laugh.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Kenyon’s son?”</p> + +<p>The man shook his head, and Joan tried again.</p> + +<p>“His nephew?”</p> + +<p>Again came that definite shake. Joan persisted, but with growing +impatience.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you’re—his partner?” she said, feeling that if he again +shook his head she must inevitably shake him.</p> + +<p>But she was spared a further trial. Buck had been <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>quick to realize +her disappointment. Nor had he any desire to inspire her anger. On the +contrary, his one thought was to please and help her.</p> + +<p>“You see we’re not related. Ther’s nuthin’ between us but that he’s +jest my great big friend,” he explained.</p> + +<p>His reward came promptly in the girl’s sunny smile. And the sight of +it quickened his pulses and set him longing to hold her again in his +arms as he had done only yesterday. Somehow she had taken a place in +his thoughts which left him feeling very helpless. He never remembered +feeling helpless before. It was as though her coming into his life had +robbed him of all his confidence. Yesterday he had found a woman +almost in rags. Yesterday she was in trouble, and it had seemed the +simplest thing in the world for him to take her in his arms and carry +her to the home he knew to be hers. Now—now, all that confidence was +gone. Now an indefinable barrier, but none the less real, had been +raised between them. It was a barrier he felt powerless to break down. +This beautiful girl, with her deep violet eyes and wonderful red-gold +hair, clad in her trim costume of lawn and serge, seemed to him like a +creature from an undreamed-of world, and as remote from him as if +thousands of miles separated them. He sighed as Joan went on with her +examination—</p> + +<p>“I suppose you have come to fetch some of your big friend’s +belongings?” she said pleasantly.</p> + +<p>For answer Buck suddenly flung out a protecting arm.</p> + +<p>“Say, you’re sure getting mussed with that dirty litter,” he said +almost reproachfully. “See, your fixin’s are right agin it. Say——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><p>Joan laughed outright at his look of profound concern.</p> + +<p>“That doesn’t matter a bit,” she exclaimed. “I must get used to being +‘mussed-up.’ You see, I’m a farmer—now.”</p> + +<p>The other’s concern promptly vanished. He loved to hear her laugh.</p> + +<p>“You never farmed any?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Never.” Joan shook her head in mock seriousness. “Isn’t it desperate +of me? No, I’m straight from a city.”</p> + +<p>Buck withdrew his gaze from her face and glanced out at the hills. But +it was only for a moment. His eyes came back as though drawn by a +magnet.</p> + +<p>“Guess you’ll likely find it dull here—after a city,” he said at +last. “Y’ see, it’s a heap quiet. It ain’t quiet to me, but then I’ve +never been to a city—unless you call Leeson Butte a city. Some folks +feel lonesome among these big hills.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I shall feel lonesome,” Joan said quickly. “The peace +and quiet of this big world is all I ask. I left the city to get away +from—oh, from the bustle of it all! Yes, I want the rest and quiet of +these hills more than anything else in the world.”</p> + +<p>The passionate longing in her words left Buck wondering. But he nodded +sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“I’d say you’d get it right here,” he declared. Then he turned toward +the great hills, and a subtle change seemed to come over his whole +manner. His dark eyes wore a deep, far-away look in which shone a +wonderfully tender affection. It was the face of a man who, perhaps +for the first time, realizes the extent and depth of his love for the +homeland which is his.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p><p>“It’s big—big,” he went on, half to himself. “It’s so big it +sometimes makes me wonder. Look at ’em,” he cried, pointing out at the +purpling distance, “rising step after step till it don’t seem they can +ever git bigger. An’ between each step there’s a sort of world +different from any other. Each one’s hidden all up, so pryin’ eyes +can’t see into ’em. There’s life in those worlds, all sorts of life. +An’ it’s jest fightin’, lovin’, dyin’, eatin’, sleepin’, same as +everywhere else. There’s a big story in ’em somewhere—a great big +story. An’ it’s all about the game of life goin’ on in there, jest the +same as it does here, an’ anywher’. Yes, it’s a big story and hard to +read for most of us. Guess we don’t ever finish readin’ it, +anyway—until we die. Don’t guess they intended us to. Don’t guess it +would be good for us to read it easy.”</p> + +<p>He turned slowly from the scene that meant so much to him, and smiled +into Joan’s astonished eyes.</p> + +<p>“An’ you’re goin’ to git busy—readin’ that story?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The startled girl found herself answering almost before she was aware +of it.</p> + +<p>“I—I hope to,” she said simply.</p> + +<p>Then she suddenly realized her own smallness. She felt almost +overpowered with the bigness of what the man’s words had shown her. It +was wonderful to her the thought of this—this “scallawag.” The word +flashed through her mind, and with it came an even fuller realization +of Mrs. Ransford’s stupidity. The man’s thought was the poet’s insight +into Nature’s wonderlands. He was speaking of that great mountain +world as though it were a religion to him, as if it represented some +treasured poetic ideal, or some lifelong, priceless friendship.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>She saw his answering nod of sympathy, and sighed her relief. Just for +one moment she had been afraid. She had been afraid of some sign of +pity, even contempt. She felt her own weakness without that. Now she +was glad, and went on with more confidence.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to start from the very beginning,” she said, with something +akin to enthusiasm. “I’m going to start here—right here, on my very +own farm. Surely the rudiments must lie here—the rudiments that must +be mastered before the greater task of reading that story is begun.” +She turned toward the blue hills, where the summer clouds were wrapped +about the glistening snowcaps. “Yes,” she cried, clasping her hands +enthusiastically, “I want to learn it all—all.” Suddenly she turned +back and looked at him with a wonderful, smiling simplicity. “Will you +help me?” she said eagerly. “Perhaps—in odd moments? Will you help me +with those—lessons?”</p> + +<p>Buck’s breath came quickly, and his simple heart was set thumping in +his bosom. But his face was serious, and his eyes quite calm as he +nodded.</p> + +<p>“It’ll be dead easy for you to learn,” he said, a new deep note +sounding in his voice. “You’ll learn anything I know, an’ much more, +in no time. You can’t help but learn. You’ll be quicker to understand, +quicker to feel all those things. Y’ see I’ve got no sort of +cleverness—nor nuthin’. I jest look around an’ see things—an’ then, +then I think I know.” He laughed quietly at his own conceit. “Oh, yes! +sometimes I guess I know it all. An’ then I get sorry for folks that +don’t, an’ I jest wonder how it comes everybody don’t understand—same +as me. Then something happens.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p><p>Joan was so eager she felt she could not wait for the pause that +followed. Buck laughed.</p> + +<p>“Something happens, same as it did yesterday,” he went on. “Oh, it’s +big—it sure is!” he added. And he turned again to his contemplation +of the hills.</p> + +<p>But Joan promptly recalled his wandering attention.</p> + +<p>“You mean—the storm?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>Buck nodded.</p> + +<p>“That—an’ the other.”</p> + +<p>“What—other?”</p> + +<p>“The washout,” he said.</p> + +<p>Then, as he saw the look of perplexity in the wide violet eyes, he +went on to explain—</p> + +<p>“You ain’t heard? Why, there was a washout on Devil’s Hill, where for +nigh a year they bin lookin’ for gold. Y’ see they knew the gold was +there, but couldn’t jest locate it. For months an’ months they ain’t +seen a sign o’ color. They bin right down to ‘hard pan.’ They wer’ +jest starvin’ their lives clear out. But they’d sank the’r pile in +that hill, an’ couldn’t bring ’emselves to quit. Then along comes the +storm, an’ right wher’ they’re working it washes a great lump o’ the +hill down. Hundreds o’ thousands o’ tons of rock an’ stuff it would +have needed a train load of dynamite to shift.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes.” Joan’s eagerness brought her a step nearer to him. “And +they found——”</p> + +<p>“Gold!” Buck laughed. “Lumps of it.”</p> + +<p>“Gold—in lumps!” The girl’s eyes widened with an excitement which the +discovery of the precious metal ever inspires.</p> + +<p>The man watched her thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Why aren’t you there?” Joan demanded suddenly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p><p>“Can’t jest say.” Buck shrugged. “Maybe it’s because they bin lookin’ +fer gold, an’—wal, I haven’t.”</p> + +<p>“Gold—in lumps!” Again came the girl’s amazed exclamation, and Buck +smiled at her enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“Sure. An’ they kind o’ blame you for it. They sort o’ fancy you +brought ’em their luck. Y’ see it came when you got around their hut. +They say ther’ wasn’t no luck to the place till you brought it. An’ +now——”</p> + +<p>Joan’s eyes shone.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m so glad. I’m so glad I’ve brought them——”</p> + +<p>But her expression of joy was never completed. She broke off with a +sharp ejaculation, and the color died out of her cheeks, leaving her +so ghastly pale that the man thought she was about to faint. She +staggered back and leant for support against the wall of the barn, and +Buck sprang to her side. In a moment, however, she stood up and +imperiously waved him aside.</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the movement. Her whole manner seemed to have +frozen up. The frank girlishness had died as completely as though it +had never been, and the man stood abashed, and at a loss for +understanding.</p> + +<p>Now he saw before him a woman still beautiful, but a woman whose eyes +had lost every vestige of that happy light. Despair was written in +every feature, despair and utter hopelessness. Her mouth, that +beautiful mouth so rich and delicate, was now tight shut as of one in +great suffering, and deep, hard lines had suddenly gathered about the +corners of it. The change smote him to the heart, but left him utterly +helpless.</p> + +<p>Realization had come. Joan had suddenly remembered all that lay behind +her—all that had driven her to seek the remoteness of the wild +Western world. She had sought to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>flee from the fate which her Aunt +Mercy had told her was hers, and now she knew that she might as well +try to flee from her own shadow.</p> + +<p>Oh, the horror of it all! These people believed that she had brought +them their luck. <i>She knew that she had.</i> What was the disaster that +must follow? What lives must go down before the sword a terrible Fate +had placed in her hand? For the moment panic held her in its grip. For +a moment it seemed that death alone could save her from the dread +consequences of the curse that was upon her. It was cruel, cruel—the +desolation, the hopelessness of it all. And in her sudden anguish she +prayed that death might be visited upon her.</p> + +<p>But even amidst the horror of her realization the influence of the +man’s presence was at work. She knew he was there a witness to the +terror she could not hide, and so she strove for recovery.</p> + +<p>Then she heard him speak, and at the sound of his quiet tone her +nerves eased and she grew calmer.</p> + +<p>“I don’t guess you recovered from the storm. I’d sure say you need +rest,” Buck said in his gentle, solicitous fashion. And in her heart +Joan thanked him for the encouragement his words gave her. He had +asked no questions. He had expressed no astonishment, and yet she knew +he must have realized that her trouble was no physical ailment.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, jumping at the opening he had given her, “I’m tired. +I’ll—I’ll go back to the house.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded, disguising his anxiety beneath a calm that seemed so +natural to him.</p> + +<p>“Jest get back an’ rest. You needn’t worry any ’bout the hosses, an’ +cows, an’ things. I’m fixin’ them for the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>night, an’ I’ll be right +along in the morning to do the chores. Y’ see I know this farm, an’ +all that needs doin’. Guess I was raised on it,” he added, with a +smile, “so the work’s sort o’ second nature to me.”</p> + +<p>Joan’s chance had come, but she passed it by. She knew she ought to +have refused his help. She ought to have, as Mrs. Ransford had said, +sent him about his business. But she did nothing of the sort. She +accepted. She did more. She held out her hand to him, and let him take +it in both of his in a friendly pressure as she thanked him.</p> + +<p>“I’m—I’m very grateful,” she said weakly. And the man flushed under +his sunburn, while his temples hammered as the hot young blood mounted +to his brain.</p> + +<p>A moment later Buck stood staring at the angle of the barn round which +Joan had just vanished. He was half-dazed, and the only thing that +seemed absolutely real to him was the gentle pressure of her hand as +it had rested in his. He could feel it still; he could feel every +pressure of the soft, warm flesh where it had lain on his hard palms. +And all the time he stood there his whole body thrilled with an +emotion that was almost painful.</p> + +<p>At last he stirred. He stooped and picked up the discarded fork. He +had no definite purpose. He was scarcely aware of his action. He held +it for a moment poised in the air. Then slowly he let the prongs of it +rest on the ground, and, leaning his chin on his hands clasped about +the haft, stared out at the hills and gave himself up to such a dream +as never before had entered his life.</p> + +<p>The sun was dipping behind the snowcaps, and for half an hour the work +he had voluntarily undertaken remained untouched.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>How much longer he would have remained lost in his wonderful dreaming +it would have been impossible to tell. But he was ruthlessly awakened, +and all his youthful ardor received a cold douche as the evening quiet +was suddenly broken by the harsh voices of the crowd of gold-seekers, +whom he suddenly beheld approaching the farm along the trail.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE GOLDEN WOMAN</h3> + +<p>Buck wondered as he noted the extraordinary picture of jubilation +which the approaching crowd presented. In all his association with +these people he had never witnessed anything to equal it or even come +near it. He never remembered anything like a real outburst of joy +during the long, dreary months since they had first camped on the +banks of Yellow Creek.</p> + +<p>He watched the faces as they drew near. From the shelter of the barn, +whither he had retreated, he had them in full view. He looked for the +old, weary signs of their recent privations and sufferings. There were +none, not one. They had passed as utterly as though they had never +been.</p> + +<p>It was a spectacle in which he found the greatest pleasure. The men +were clad in their work-stained clothing, their only clothing. Their +faces remained unwashed, and still bore the accumulations of dusty +sweat from their day’s fevered labors. But it was the light in their +eyes, their grinning faces, the buoyancy of their gait that held him. +He heard their voices lifted in such a tone as would have seemed +impossible only a few days ago. The loud, harsh laugh, accompanying +inconsequent jests and jibes, it was good to hear. These men were +tasting the sweets of a moment of perfect happiness. Buck knew well +enough that soon, probably by the morrow, the moment <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>would have +passed, and they would have settled again to the stern calling of +their lives.</p> + +<p>All his sympathy was with them, and their joy was reflected in his own +feelings. Their hope was his hope, their buoyancy was his buoyancy. +For his happiness was complete at the moment, and thus he was left +free to feel with those others. Such was his own wonderful exaltation +that the thought of the termination of these people’s suffering was +the final note that made his joy complete.</p> + +<p>He laid his fork aside and waited till they had passed his retreat. +The object of their journey was obviously the farmhouse, and he felt +that he must learn their further purpose. He remembered Joan’s going +from him. He had seen the pain and trouble in her beautiful eyes, and +so he feared that the sudden rush of animal spirits in these people +would drive them to extravagances, well enough meant, but which might +worry and even alarm her.</p> + +<p>He moved quickly out of the barn and looked after them. They had +reached the house, and stood like a herd of subdued and silly sheep +waiting for a sign from their leader. It was a quaint sight. The laugh +and jest had died out, and only was the foolish grin left. Yes, they +certainly had a definite purpose in their minds, but they equally +certainly were in doubt as to how it should be carried out.</p> + +<p>Buck drew nearer without attracting their attention. The men were so +deeply engaged with the dilemma of the moment that he might almost +have joined the group without observation. But he merely desired to be +on hand to help should the troubled girl need his help. He had no +desire to take active part in the demonstration. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>As he came near he +heard Beasley’s voice, and the very sound of it jarred unpleasantly on +his ears. The man was talking in that half-cynical fashion which was +never without an added venom behind it.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he heard him exclaim derisively, “wot’s doin’? You’re all +mighty big talkers back ther’ in camp, but I don’t seem to hear any +bright suggestions goin’ around now. You start this gorl-durned racket +like a pack o’ weak-headed fools, yearnin’ to pitch away what’s been +chucked right into your fool laps jest fer one o’ Blue Grass Pete’s +fat-head notions. Well, wot’s doin’? I ask.”</p> + +<p>“You ke’p that ugly map o’ yours closed,” cried Pete hotly. “<i>You</i> +ain’t bein’ robbed any.”</p> + +<p>“Guess I’ll see to that,” retorted Beasley, with a grin. “The feller +that robs me’ll need to chew razors fer a pastime. If it comes to that +you’re yearnin’ fer glory at the Padre’s expense—as usual.”</p> + +<p>Buck’s ears tingled, and he drew closer. Beasley always had a knack of +so blending truth with his personal venom that it stung far more than +downright insult. He wondered what the Padre’s generosity had been, +and wherein lay its connection with their present purpose. The +explanation was not long in coming, for Montana Ike took up the +challenge amidst a storm of ominous murmurs from the gathered men.</p> + +<p>“Don’t take nuthin’ from him,” cried the youngster scornfully. Then he +turned on Beasley fiercely. “You need Buck around to set you right, +Mister Lousy Beasley,” he cried. “We ain’t robbin’ anybody, an’ sure +not the Padre. He found that nugget, an’ it’s his to give or do wot he +likes with. The gal brought us the luck, an’ the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>Padre guessed it was +only right she should have the first find. That nugget was the first +find, an’ the Padre found it. Wal!” But as no reply was forthcoming he +hurried on, turning his tongue loose in the best abuse he could +command at the moment. “You’re a rotten sort o’ skunk anyway, an’ you +ain’t got a decent thought in your diseased head. I’d like to say +right here that you hate seein’ a sixty-ounce lump o’ gold in any +other hands than your own dirty paws. That’s your trouble, so jest +shut right up while better folks handles a matter wot’s a sight too +delicate fer a rotten mind like yours.”</p> + +<p>The smile had returned to every face except the foxy features of the +ex-Churchman, who for once had no adequate retort ready. Curly +Saunders nodded appreciation, and helped to solve the momentary +dilemma prevailing.</p> + +<p>“That’s sure done it fer you, Montana,” he cried gleefully. “You make +the presentation. I’d say I never heard so elegant a flow of argyment +in this yer camp. You’ll talk most pretty to the leddy.”</p> + +<p>“An’ it ain’t fer me to say I can’t do it if need be, neither,” said +Montana modestly. “Don’t guess it’s much of a stunt yappin’ pretty to +a sorrel-topped gal.”</p> + +<p>Abe Allinson laughed.</p> + +<p>“It’s sure up to you, Ike,” he said. “Guess you best git busy right +away.”</p> + +<p>The rest waited for the youngster’s acceptance of the responsibility, +which promptly came with perfect good-will.</p> + +<p>“Gee! But you’re a gritty outfit,” he cried, with a wide grin. “Say, I +guess you’d need a fence around you shootin’ jack-rabbits. +Jack-rabbits is ter’ble fierce. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>Guess you’d most be skeered to death +at a skippin’ lamb bleatin’ fer its mother. Can’t say I ever heerd +tell as a feller need be skeered of a pair o’ gal’s eyes, nor a sight +o’ red ha’r. You said it was red, Pete, didn’t you? I’d sure say a +bright feller don’t need to worry any over talkin’ pretty to a gal +like that. She’s up agin a proposition if she thinks she ken skeer me. +Wher’ is she? Jest call her out. She’s goin’ to git her med’cine right +here in the open. I ain’t doin’ no parlor tricks.”</p> + +<p>The boy stood out from the crowd with a decided show of mild bravado, +but he glanced about him, seeking the moral support of his fellows.</p> + +<p>“You best knock on the door, Ike,” said Curly quietly.</p> + +<p>Ike hesitated. Then he turned doubtfully to those behind.</p> + +<p>“You—you mean that?” he inquired. “You ain’t foolin’ none?” Then, as +though realizing his own weakness, he began to bluster. “Cos I ain’t +takin’ no foolin’ in a racket o’ this sort. An’ any feller thinks he +ken fool me’ll sure hate hisself when I’m through with him.”</p> + +<p>A mild snicker greeted his “big talk,” and the boy flushed hotly. He +was half-inclined to add further resentment, but, second thoughts +prevailing, he abruptly turned to the door and hammered on it as +though anticipating stern resistance from those within.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Inside the house Mrs. Ransford was debating the situation with her +mistress. She had witnessed the advance of the besieging party, and, +half-frightened and half-resentful, the latter perhaps the more +plainly manifested, she was detailing in unmeasured terms her opinions +and fears to the still harassed girl.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p><p>“Jest git a peek at ’em through the window, miss—‘ma’m’ I should say, +on’y I don’t allus remember right, as you might say. Ther’s twenty an’ +more o’ the lowest down bums ever I see outside a State penitentiary. +They’re sure the most ter’blest lot ever I did see. An’ they got +’emselves fixed up wi’ guns an’ knives, an’ what not an’ sech, till +you can’t see the color o’ their clothes fer the dirt on ’em. I’ll +swar’ to goodness, as the sayin’ is, they ain’t never see no water +sence they was christened, if they ever was christened, which I don’t +believe no gospel preacher would ever so demean himself. An’ as fer +soap, say, they couldn’t even spell it if you was to hand ’em the +whole soap fact’ry literature of a fi’-cent daily noos-sheet. They’re +jest ter’ble, an’ it seems to me we sure need a reg’ment o’ United +States Cavalry settin’ around on horses an’ field guns to pertect us, +ef we’re to farm this one-hossed layout. They’re ‘bad men,’ mum, +miss—which I made a mistake ag’in—that’s wot they are. I’ve read +about ’em in the fi’-cent comics, so I sure know ’em when I see ’em. +You can’t never make no mistake. They’re jest goin’ to shoot us all up +to glory, an’ they’ll dance around on our corpses, same as if they was +nuthin’, nor no account anyways.”</p> + +<p>In spite of her recent shock Joan found herself smiling at the strange +mixture of fear and anger in the old woman’s manner. But she felt it +necessary to check her flow of wild accusations. She guessed easily +enough who the men were that were approaching the house, but their +object remained a mystery.</p> + +<p>“You’re hasty. You mustn’t judge these people by their appearance. +They’re——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>But the feverish tongue was promptly set clacking again.</p> + +<p>“An’ wot, I asks, is they to be judged by if not by wot they are? They +jest come along a-yowlin’, an’ a-shootin’ off’n their guns an’ things, +same as they allus do when they’s on the war-path. Scalps, that’s wot +they’s after. Scalps, no more an’ no less. An’ to think o’ me at my +time o’ life a-fallin’ a prey to Injuns, as you might say. Oh, if on’y +my pore George D. Ransford was alive! He’d ’a’ give ’em scalps. He was +a man, sure, even though he did set around playin’ poker all night +when I was in labor with my twins. He was a great fighter was George +D.—as the marks on my body ken show to this very day.”</p> + +<p>At that instant there was a terrific knocking at the door which opened +directly into the parlor in which the waiting women were standing, and +the farm-wife jumped and staggered back, and, finally, collapsed into +an adjacent chair.</p> + +<p>“Sakes on us,” she cried, her fat face turning a sort of pea-green, +“if only my pore George D.——”</p> + +<p>But Joan’s patience could stand no more.</p> + +<p>“For goodness’ sake go back to your kitchen, you absurd creature. I’ll +see to the matter. I——”</p> + +<p>But the old woman wobbled to her feet almost weeping.</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t ’ee, miss,” she cried in her tearful anxiety, getting her +form of address right the first time. “Don’t ’ee be rash. Ther’ll be +blood spilt, ther’ sure will. Ther’s on’y one way, miss, you must talk +’em nice, an’, an’ if they go fer to take liberties, you—why you,” +she edged toward her kitchen, “you jest send for me right away.”</p> + +<p>She hurried out, and the moment she was out of sight <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>fled +precipitately to the farthest extremity of her own domain and armed +herself with the heavy iron shaker of the cook-stove.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Joan went to the door and flung it wide open. In spite +of the farm-wife’s warnings she had not a shadow of doubt as to the +peaceful object of the visitation, and rather felt that in some sort +of way it was intended as an expression of good-will and greeting. Had +not Buck told her that they held her in the light of some sort of +benefactor? So she stood in the doorway erect and waiting, with a calm +face, on which there was not a shadow of a smile.</p> + +<p>She took in the gathering at a glance, and her eyes came to rest upon +the foremost figure of Montana Ike. She noted his slim, boyish figure, +the weak, animal expression shining in his furtive eyes. To her he +looked just what he was, a virile specimen of reckless young manhood, +of vicious and untamed spirit. She saw at once that he was standing +out from his companions, and understood that, for the moment at least, +he was their leader.</p> + +<p>“Good-evening,” she said, her attitude mechanically unbending.</p> + +<p>“Evenin’, miss,” responded Ike bravely, and then relapsed into a +violent condition of blushing through his dirt.</p> + +<p>He stood there paralyzed at the girl’s beauty. He just gaped foolishly +at her, his eyes seeking refuge in dwelling upon the well-cut skirt +she wore and the perfect whiteness of the lawn shirt-waist, which +permitted the delicate pink tinge of her arms and shoulders to show +through it.</p> + +<p>All his bravery was gone—all his assurance. If his life <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>had depended +on it not one word of an address on behalf of his fellows could he +have uttered.</p> + +<p>Joan saw his confusion, and mercifully came to his rescue.</p> + +<p>“You wish to see me?” she inquired, with a smile which plunged the boy +into even more hopeless confusion.</p> + +<p>As no answer was forthcoming she looked appealingly at the other +faces.</p> + +<p>“It’s very kind of you all to come here,” she said gently. “Is—is +there anything I can—do for you?”</p> + +<p>Suddenly Beasley’s voice made itself heard.</p> + +<p>“Git busy, Ike, you’re spokesman,” he cried. “Git on with the +presentation—ladle out the ad—dress. You’re kind o’ lookin’ +foolish.”</p> + +<p>He followed up his words with his unpleasant laugh, and it was the +sting the youthful leader needed.</p> + +<p>He turned fiercely on the speaker, his momentary paralysis all +vanished.</p> + +<p>“Ef I’m spokesman,” he cried, “guess we don’t need no buttin’ in from +Beasley Melford.” Then he turned again quickly. “Astin’ your pardon, +miss,” he added apologetically.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” said Joan, smiling amiably. “What are you +‘spokesman’ for?”</p> + +<p>The boy grinned foolishly.</p> + +<p>“Can’t rightly say, missie.” Then he jerked his head in his comrades’ +direction. “Guess if you was to ast <i>them</i>, they’d call theirselves +<i>men</i>.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say ‘who,’ I said ‘what,’” Joan protested, with a laugh at +his desperately serious manner.</p> + +<p>“‘What?’” he murmured, smearing his dirty forehead with a horny hand +in the effort of his task. Then he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>brightened. “Why, gener’ly +speakin’,” he went on, with sudden enthusiasm, “they ain’t much +better’n skippin’ sheep. Y’ see they want to but darsent. +So—wal—they jest set me up to sling the hot air.”</p> + +<p>The girl looked appealingly at the rough faces for assistance. But +instead of help she only beheld an expression of general discontent +turned on the unconscious back of the spokesman. And coming back to +the boy she pursued the only course possible.</p> + +<p>“I—I don’t think I quite understand,” she said.</p> + +<p>Ike readily agreed with her.</p> + +<p>“I’m durned sure you can’t,” he cried heartily. “They jest think it a +rotten kind of a job handin’ a red-ha’r’d gal a few words an’ an +a’mighty fine hunk o’ gold. That’s cos they ain’t been dragged up jest +right. You can’t expect elegant feedin’ at a hog trough. Now it’s kind +o’ diff’rent wi’ me. I——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, quit,” cried the sharp voice of the exasperated Abe Allinson. And +there was no doubt but he was speaking for the rest of the audience.</p> + +<p>Pete followed him in a tone of equal resentment.</p> + +<p>“That ain’t no sort o’ way ad—dressin’ a leddy,” he said angrily.</p> + +<p>“Course it ain’t,” sneered Beasley. “Ther’s sure bats roostin’ in your +belfry, Ike.”</p> + +<p>The boy jumped round on the instant. His good-nature could stand the +jibes of his comrades generally, but Beasley’s sneers neither he nor +any one else could endure.</p> + +<p>“Who’s that yappin’?” the youngster cried, glowering into the +speaker’s face. “That the feller Buck called an outlaw passon?” he +demanded. His right hand <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>slipped to the butt of his gun. “Say you,” +he cried threateningly, “if you got anything to say I’m right here +yearnin’ to listen.”</p> + +<p>Joan saw the half-drawn weapon, and in the same instant became aware +of a movement on the part of the man Beasley. She was horrified, +expecting one of those fierce collisions she had heard about. But the +moment passed, and, though she did not realize it, it was caused by +Ike’s gun leaving its holster first.</p> + +<p>Her woman’s fear urged her, and she raised a protesting hand.</p> + +<p>“Please—please,” she cried, her eyes dilating with apprehension. +“What have I done that you should come here to quarrel?”</p> + +<p>Buck in the background smiled. He was mentally applauding the girl’s +readiness, while he watched the others closely.</p> + +<p>Ike turned to her again, and his anger had merged into a comical look +of chagrin.</p> + +<p>“Y’ see, missie,” he said in a fresh tone of apology, “ther’s fellers +around here wi’ no sort o’ manners. They’re scairt to death makin’ a +big talk to a red-ha’r’d gal, so I jest got to do it. An’ I sez it, it +ain’t easy, folks like me speechin’ to folks like you——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, git on!” cried Pete in a tired voice.</p> + +<p>“Your hot air’s nigh freezin’,” laughed Soapy Kid.</p> + +<p>“Quit it,” cried Ike hotly. “Ain’t they an ignorant lot o’ hogs?” he +went on, appealing to the smiling girl. “Y’ see, missie, we’re right +glad you come along. We’re prospectin’ this layout fer gold an’——”</p> + +<p>“An’ we ain’t had no sort o’ luck till you got around,” added Pete +hastily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p><p>“In the storm,” nodded Curly Saunders.</p> + +<p>“All mussed-up an’ beat to hell,” cried Ike, feeling that he was being +ousted from his rights.</p> + +<p>“Yes, an’ Buck carried you to home, an’ rode in fer the doc, an’ had +you fixed right,” cried Abe.</p> + +<p>Ike looked round indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Say, is youse fellers makin’ this big talk or me? ain’t yearnin’, if +any feller’s lookin’ fer glory.”</p> + +<p>His challenge was received with a chorus of laughter.</p> + +<p>“You’re doin’ fine,” cried the Kid.</p> + +<p>Ike favored the speaker with a contemptuous stare and returned to his +work. He shrugged.</p> + +<p>“They ain’t no account anyway, missie,” he assured her, “guess they’re +sore. Wal, y’ see you come along in the storm, an’ what should happen +but the side o’ Devil’s Hill drops out, an’ sets gold rollin’ around +like—like taters fallin’ through a rotten sack. ‘Gold?’ sez we, an’ +gold it is. ‘Who bro’t us sech luck?’ we asts. An’ ther’ it is right +ther’, so ther’ can’t be no mistake. Jest a pore, sick gal wi’ red +ha’r, all beat to hell an’——”</p> + +<p>“Gee, ain’t it beautiful!” sneered Curly.</p> + +<p>Soapy pretended to weep, and Abe thumped him heavily on the back.</p> + +<p>“Cheer up, Kid,” he grinned. “’Tain’t as bad as it seems. Ike’ll feel +better after he’s had his vittles.”</p> + +<p>Pete sniggered.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t he comic?” he cried. Then, seizing the opportunity, while Ike +turned round to retort he hustled him aside and usurped his place.</p> + +<p>“Say, missie, it’s jest this, you’re the Golden Woman who bro’t us our +luck. Some of us ain’t got your name right, nor nuthin’. Anyway that +don’t figger nuthin’. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>We ain’t had no luck till you come along, so +you’re jest our Golden Woman, an’ we’re goin’ to hand you——”</p> + +<p>Joan started back as though the man had struck her. Her beautiful +cheeks went a ghastly pallor.</p> + +<p>“No—no!” she cried half-wildly.</p> + +<p>“And why for not?” demanded Pete.</p> + +<p>“But my name is Joan,” she cried, a terrible dread almost overpowering +her. “You see ‘Golden’ isn’t my real name,” she explained, without +pausing to think. “That’s only a nickname my father ga—gave me. I—I +was christened ‘Joan.’”</p> + +<p>Pete slapped his thigh heavily, and a great grin spread over his face.</p> + +<p>“Say, don’t it beat the band?” he cried in wild delight. “Don’t it?” +he repeated, appealing to the world at large. “‘Golden.’ That’s her +name, an’ we only hit on it cos she’s got gold ha’r, an’ bro’t us +gold. An’ all the time her pa used to call her ‘Golden.’ Can you beat +it?” Then he looked into Joan’s face with admiring eyes. “Say, missie, +that’s your name for jest as long as you stop around this layout. +That’s her name, ain’t it, boys?” He appealed to the crowd. “Here, +give it her good an’ plenty, boys. Hooray for the ‘Golden Woman’!”</p> + +<p>Instantly the air was filled with a harsh cheering that left the girl +almost weeping in her terror and misery. But the men saw nothing of +the effect of their good-will. They were only too glad to be able to +find such an outlet to their feelings. When the cheering ceased Pete +thrust out an arm toward her. His palm was stretched open, and lying +on it was the great yellow nugget that the Padre had found—the first +find of the “strike.”</p> + +<p>“That’s it, missie,” he cried, his wild eyes rolling delightedly. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>“Look right ther’. That’s fer you. The Padre found it, an’ it’s his +to give, an’ he sent it to you. That’s the sort o’ luck you bro’t us.”</p> + +<p>The crowd closed in with necks craning to observe the wonderful nugget +of gold; to the finding of its kind their lives were devoted. Beasley +was at Pete’s elbow, the greediest of them all.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t no scrapin’ an’ scratchin’ luck,” the enthusiastic Pete +hurried on. “It was gold in hunks you bro’t us.”</p> + +<p>Beasley’s eyes lit, and Buck, watching closely, edged in.</p> + +<p>“It’s a present to you, missie,” Pete went on. “That’s wot we come +for. Jest to hand you that nugget. Nigh sixty ounces solid gold, an’ +the first found at this yer camp.”</p> + +<p>Balanced on his hand he thrust it farther out for the girl to take, +but she shrank back. Beasley saw the movement and laughed. He pointed +at it and leered up into her face.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure right,” he cried. “Don’t you touch it. Jest look at it. +Say, can’t you fellers see, or are you blind? She ain’t blind. She can +see. She’s seen wot’s ther’. It’s a death’s head. Gold? Gee, I tell +you it’s a death’s head! Look at them eye-sockets,” he cried, pointing +at the curious moulding of the nugget. “Ther’s the nose bones, an’ the +jaw. Look at them teeth, too, all gold-filled, same as if a dentist +had done ’em.” He laughed maliciously. “It’s a dandy present fer a +lady. A keepsake!”</p> + +<p>The men were crowding to see the markings which Beasley pointed out. +They were quite plain. They were so obvious that something like horror +lit the superstitious <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>faces. Beasley, watching, saw that he had made +his point, so he hurried on—</p> + +<p>“Don’t you touch it, miss,” he cried gleefully, as though he +thoroughly enjoyed delivering his warning. “It’s rotten luck if you +do. That gold is Devil’s gold. It’s come from Devil’s Hill, in a +Devil’s storm. It’s a death’s head, an’ there’s all the trouble in the +world in it. There’s——”</p> + +<p>His prophecy remained uncompleted. He was suddenly caught by a +powerful hand, and the next instant he found himself swung to the +outskirts of the crowd with terrific force.</p> + +<p>In a furious rage he pulled himself together just in time to see Buck, +pale with anger, seize the nugget from Pete’s outstretched palm.</p> + +<p>“You don’t need to worry with the trouble in that gold,” he said with +biting coldness, raising it at arm’s length above his head.</p> + +<p>Then before any one was aware of his intention he flung it with all +his force upon the flagstone at Joan’s feet. Quickly he stooped and +picked it up again, and again flung it down with all his strength. He +repeated the process several times, and finally held it out toward the +troubled girl.</p> + +<p>“You ken take it now,” he said, his whole manner softening. “Guess +Beasley’s ‘death’s head’ has gone—to its grave. Ther’ ain’t no sort +o’ trouble can hurt any, if—you only come down on it hard enough. The +trouble ain’t in that gold now, only in the back of Beasley’s head. +An’ when it gets loose, wal—I allow there’s folks around here won’t +see it come your way. You can sure take it now.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>Joan reached out a timid hand, while her troubled violet eyes looked +into Buck’s face as though fascinated. The man moved a step nearer, +and the small hand closed over the battered nugget.</p> + +<p>“Take it,” he said encouragingly. “It’s an expression of the good +feelings of the boys. An’ I don’t guess you need be scared of <i>them</i>.”</p> + +<p>Joan took the gold, but there was no smile in her eyes, no thanks on +her lips. She stepped back to her doorway and passed within.</p> + +<p>“I’m tired,” she said, and her words were solely addressed to Buck. He +nodded, while she closed the door. Then he turned about.</p> + +<p>“Wal!” he said.</p> + +<p>And his manner was a decided dismissal.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE CALL OF YOUTH</h3> + +<p>The fur fort was a relic of ancient days, when the old-time traders of +the North sent their legions of pelt hunters from the far limits of +the northern ice-world to the sunny western slopes of the great +American continent. It was at such a place as this, hemmed in amidst +the foot-hills, that they established their factor and his handful of +armed men; lonely sentries at the gates of the mountain world, to levy +an exorbitant tax upon the harvest of furs within.</p> + +<p>Here, within the ponderous stockade, now fallen into sore decay, +behind iron-bound doors secured by mighty wooden locks, and barred +with balks of timber, sheltered beneath the frowning muzzles of half a +dozen futile carronades, they reveled in obscene orgies and committed +their barbaric atrocities under the name of Justice and Commerce. Here +they amassed wealth for the parent companies in distant lands, and +ruthlessly despoiled the wild of its furry denizens.</p> + +<p>These were the pioneers, sturdy savages little better than the red man +himself, little better in their lives than the creatures upon which +they preyed. But they were for the most part men, vigorous, dauntless +men who not only made history, but prepared the way for those who were +to come after, leaving them a heritage of unsurpassable magnificence.</p> + +<p>Now, this old-time relic afforded a shelter for two lonely <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>men, whose +only emulation of their predecessors was in the craft that was theirs. +In all else there remained nothing in common, unless it were that +common asset of all pioneers, a sturdy courage. They certainly lacked +nothing of this. But whereas the courage of their predecessors, +judging them by all historical records, in quality belonged largely to +the more brutal side of life, these men had no such inspiration. Their +calling was something in the nature of a passionate craving for the +exercise of wits and instincts in a hard field where the creatures of +the wild meet the human upon almost equal terms.</p> + +<p>Isolation was nothing new to these men. The remotenesses of the back +world had been their life for years. They understood its every mood, +and met them with nerves in perfect tune. The mountains filled their +whole outlook. They desired nothing better, nothing more.</p> + +<p>Yet it seemed strange that this should be. For the Padre had not +always lived beyond the fringes of civilization. He was a man of +education, a man of thought and even culture. These things must have +been obvious to the most casual observer. In Buck’s case it was easier +to understand. He had known no other life than this. And yet he, too, +might well have been expected to look askance at a future lost to all +those things which he knew to lay beyond. Was he not at the threshold +of life? Were not his veins thrilling with the rich, red tide of +youth? Were not all those instincts which go to make up the sum of +young human life as much a part of him as of those others who haunted +the banks of Yellow Creek? The whole scheme was surely unusual. The +Padre’s instinct was to roam deeper and deeper into the wild, and +Buck, offered his release from its wondrous thrall, had refused it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p><p>Thus they embraced this new home. The vast and often decaying timbers, +hewn out of the very forests they loved, cried out with all the old +associations they bore and held them. The miniature citadel contained +within the trenchant stockade, the old pelt stores, roofless and +worm-eaten, the armory which still suggested the clank of half-armored +men, who lived only for the joy of defying death. The factor’s house, +whence, in the days gone by, the orders for battle had been issued, +and the sentence of life and death had been handed out with scant +regard for justice. Then there were the ruined walls of the +common-room, where the fighting men had caroused and slept. The scenes +of frightful orgies held in this place were easy to conjure. All these +things counted in a manner which perhaps remained unacknowledged by +either. But nevertheless they were as surely a part of the lure as the +chase itself, with all its elemental attraction.</p> + +<p>They had restored just as much of the old factor’s house as they +needed for their simple wants. Two rooms were all they occupied, two +rooms as simple and plain as their own lives. Buck had added a new +roof of logs and clay plaster. He had set up two stretchers with +straw-stuffed paillasses for beds. He had manufactured a powerful +table, and set it upon legs cut from pine saplings. To this he had +added the removal of a cook-stove and two chairs, and their own +personal wardrobe from the farm, and so the place was complete. Yet +not quite. There was an arm rack upon the wall of the living-room, an +arm rack that had at one time doubtless supported the old flintlocks +of the early fur hunters. This he had restored, and laden it with +their own armory and the spare traps of their craft; while their only +luxury was the fastening up beside <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>the doorway of a frameless +looking-glass for shaving purposes.</p> + +<p>They required a place to sleep in, a place in which to store their +produce, a place in which to break their fast and eat their meal at +dusk. Here it lay, ready to their hand, affording them just these +simple necessities, and so they adopted it.</p> + +<p>But the new life troubled the Padre in moments when he allowed himself +to dwell upon the younger man’s future. He had offered him his +release, at the time he had parted with the farm, from a sense of +simple duty. It would have been a sore blow to him had Buck accepted, +yet he would have submitted readily, even gladly, for he felt that +with the passing of the farm out of their hands he had far more +certainly robbed Buck of all provision for his future than he had +deprived himself, who was the actual owner. He felt that in seeking to +help the little starving colony he had done it, in reality, at Buck’s +expense.</p> + +<p>Something of this was in his mind as he pushed away from their frugal +breakfast-table. He stood in the doorway filling his pipe, while Buck +cleared the tin plates and pannikins and plunged them into the boiler +of hot water on the stove.</p> + +<p>He leant his stalwart shoulders against the door casing, and stared +out at the wooded valley which crossed the front of the house. Beyond +it, over the opposite rise, he could see the dim outline of the crest +of Devil’s Hill several miles away.</p> + +<p>He felt that by rights Buck should be there—somewhere there beyond +the valley. Not because the youngster had any desire for the wealth +that was flowing into the greedy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>hands of the gold-seekers. It was +simply the thought of a man who knows far more of the world than he +cares to remember. He felt that in all honesty he should point out the +duties of a man to himself in these days when advancement alone +counts, and manhood, without worldly position, goes for so very +little. He was not quite sure that Buck didn’t perfectly understand +these things for himself. He had such a wonderful understanding and +insight. However, his duty was plain, and it was not his way to shrink +from it.</p> + +<p>Buck was sprinkling the earth floor preparatory to sweeping it when +the Padre let his eyes wander back into the room.</p> + +<p>“Got things fixed?” he inquired casually.</p> + +<p>“Mostly.” Buck began to sweep with that practiced hand which never +raises a dust on an earthen floor.</p> + +<p>The Padre watched his movements thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Seems queer seeing you sweeping and doing chores like a—a hired +girl.” He laughed presently.</p> + +<p>Buck looked up and rested on his broom. He smilingly surveyed his +early benefactor and friend.</p> + +<p>“What’s worryin’?” he inquired in his direct fashion.</p> + +<p>The Padre stirred uneasily. He knocked the ashes from his pipe and +pressed the glowing tobacco down with the head of a rusty nail.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing worrying,” he said, turning back to his survey of the +valley beyond the decaying stockade. “The sun’ll be over the hilltops +in half an hour,” he went on.</p> + +<p>But the manner of his answer told Buck all he wanted to know. He too +glanced out beyond the valley.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he ejaculated, and went on sweeping. A moment <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>later he paused +again. “Guess I can’t be out at the traps till noon. Mebbe you ken do +without me—till then?”</p> + +<p>“Sure.” The Padre nodded at the valley. Then he added: “I’ve been +thinking.”</p> + +<p>“’Bout that gold strike? ’Bout me? You bin thinkin’ I ought to quit +the traps, an’—make good wi’ them. I know.”</p> + +<p>The elder man turned back sharply and looked into the dark eyes with a +shrewd smile.</p> + +<p>“You generally get what I’m thinking,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Guess you’re not much of a riddle—to me,” Buck laughed, drawing the +moist dust into a heap preparatory to picking it up.</p> + +<p>The Padre laughed too.</p> + +<p>“Maybe you know how I’m feeling about things, then? Y’ see there’s +nothing for you now but half the farm money. That’s yours anyway. It +isn’t a pile. Seems to me you ought to be—out there making a big +position for yourself.” He nodded in the direction of Devil’s Hill.</p> + +<p>“Out of gold?”</p> + +<p>“Why not? It’s an opportunity.”</p> + +<p>“What for?” Buck inquired, without a semblance of enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“Why, for going ahead—with other folks.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded.</p> + +<p>“I know. Goin’ to a city with a big pile. A big house. Elegant +clothes. Hired servants. Congress. Goin’ around with a splash of big +type in the noospapers.”</p> + +<p>“That’s not quite all, Buck.” The man at the door shook his head. “A +man when he rises doesn’t need to go in for—well, for vulgar display. +There are a heap of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>other things besides. What about the intellectual +side of civilization? What about the advancement of good causes? What +about—well, all those things we reckon worth while out here? Then, +too, you’ll be marrying some day.”</p> + +<p>Buck picked up the dust and carefully emptied it into the blazing +stove. He watched it burn for a moment, and then replaced the round +iron top.</p> + +<p>“Marryin’ needs—all those things?” he inquired at last.</p> + +<p>“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” returned the other quickly. He knew +something was lying behind Buck’s quiet manner, and it made him a +little uncomfortable. “Most men find a means of marrying when they +want to—if they’re men. Look here,” he went on, with a sudden +outburst of simple candor, “I want to be fair to you, and I want you +to be fair to yourself. There’s an opportunity over there”—he pointed +with his pipe in the direction of Devil’s Hill—“an opportunity to +make a pile, which will help you to take a position in the world. I +don’t want you to stay with me from any mistaken sense of gratitude or +duty. It is my lot, and my desire, to remain in these hills. But +you—you’ve got your life before you. You can rise to the top if you +want to. I know you. I know your capacity. Take your share of the farm +money, and—get busy.”</p> + +<p>“An’ if I don’t want to—get busy?” Buck’s dark eyes were alight with +a curious, intense warmth.</p> + +<p>The Padre shrugged and pushed his pipe into the corner of his mouth.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing more to be said,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“But ther’ is, Padre. There sure is,” cried Buck, stepping over to him +and laying one hand on the great shoulder <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>nearest him. “I get all you +say. I’ve got it long ago. You bin worryin’ to say all this since ever +you got back from sellin’ the farm. An’ it’s like you. But you an’ me +don’t jest figger alike. You got twenty more years of the world than +me, so your eyes look around you different. That’s natural. You’re +guessin’ that hill is an opportunity for me. Wal, I’m guessin’ it +ain’t. Mebbe it is for others, but not for me. I got my opportunity +twenty years ago, an’ you give me that opportunity. I was starvin’ to +death then, an’ you helped me out. You’re my opportunity, an’ it makes +me glad to think of it. Wher’ you go I go, an’ when we both done, why, +I guess it won’t be hard to see that what I done an’ what you done was +meant for us both to do. We’re huntin’ pelts for a livin’ now, an’ +when the time comes for us to quit it, why, we’ll both quit it +together, an’ so it’ll go on. It don’t matter wher’ it takes us. Say,” +he went on, turning away abruptly. “Guess I’ll jest haul the drinkin’ +water before I get.”</p> + +<p>The Padre turned his quiet eyes on the slim back.</p> + +<p>“And what about when you think of marrying?” he asked shrewdly.</p> + +<p>Buck paused to push the boiler off the stove. He shook his head and +pointed at the sky.</p> + +<p>“Guess the sun’s gettin’ up,” he said.</p> + +<p>The Padre laughed and prepared to depart.</p> + +<p>“Where you off to this morning?” he inquired presently.</p> + +<p>“That gal ain’t got a hired man, yet,” Buck explained simply, as he +picked up his saddle. Then he added ingenuously, “Y’ see I don’t guess +she ken do the chores, an’ the old woman ain’t got time to—for +talkin’.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>The Padre nodded while he bent over the breech of his Winchester. He +had no wish for Buck to see the smile his words had conjured.</p> + +<p>Buck swung his saddle on to his shoulder and passed out of the hut in +the direction of the building he had converted into a barn. And when +he had gone the Padre looked after him.</p> + +<p>“He says she’s handsome, with red-gold hair and blue eyes,” he +murmured. Then a far-away look stole into his steady eyes, and their +stare fixed itself upon the doorway of the barn through which Buck had +just vanished. “Curious,” he muttered. “They’ve nicknamed her +‘Golden,’ which happened to be a nickname—her father gave her.”</p> + +<p>He stood for some moments lost in thought. Then, suddenly pulling +himself together, he shouldered his rifle and disappeared into the +woods.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>A WHIRLWIND VISIT</h3> + +<p>Joan was idling dispiritedly over her breakfast. A long, wakeful night +had at last ended in the usual aching head and eyes ringed with +shadows. She felt dreary, and looked forward drearily to inspecting +her farm—which, in her normal state, would have inspired nothing but +perfect delight—with something like apprehension.</p> + +<p>Her beginning in the new life had been swamped in a series of +disastrous events which left her convinced of the impossibility of +escape from the painful shadow of the past. All night her brain had +been whirling in a perfect chaos of thought as she reviewed her advent +to the farm. There had been nothing, from her point of view, but +disaster upon disaster. First her arrival. Then—why, then the “luck” +of the gold find. In her eyes, what was that but the threat of +disaster to come? Had not her aunt told her that this extraordinary +luck that she must ever bring was part of the curse shadowing her +life? Then the coincidence of her nickname. It was truly hideous. The +very incongruity of it made it seem the most terrible disaster of all. +Surely, more than anything else, it pointed the hand of Fate. It was +her father’s nickname for her, and he—he had been the worst sufferer +at her hands.</p> + +<p>The whole thing seemed so hopeless, so useless. What was the use of +her struggle against this hateful fate? A <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>spirit of rebellion urged +her, and she felt half-inclined to abandon herself to the life that +was hers; to harden herself, and, taking the cup life offered her, +drain it to the dregs. Why should she waste her life battling with a +force which seemed all-powerful? Why should she submit to the terror +of it? What were the affairs of these others to her? She was not +responsible. Nothing in the whole sane world of ethics could hold her +responsible.</p> + +<p>The spirit of rebellion, for the moment, obtained the upper hand. She +had youth; Fortune had bestowed a face and figure upon her that she +need not be ashamed of, and a healthy capacity for enjoyment. Then why +should she abandon all these gifts because of a fate for which she was +in no way responsible?</p> + +<p>She pushed back her chair from the table, and crossed to the open +front door.</p> + +<p>The sun was not yet up, and the morning air was dewy and fresh with +perfumes such as she had never experienced in St. Ellis. It was—yes, +it was good to be alive on such a day in spite of everything.</p> + +<p>She glanced out over the little farm—her farm. Yes, it was all hers, +bought and paid for, and she still had money for all her needs and to +do those things she wanted to do. She turned away and looked back into +the little parlor with its simple furnishings, its mannish odds and +ends upon the wall. She heard the sounds of the old housekeeper busy +in her heavy, blundering way with the domestic work of her home. She +had so many plans for the future, and every one in its inception had +given her the greatest delight. Now—now this hideous skeleton had +stepped from its cupboard and robbed her of every joy. No, she would +not stand it. She would <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>steel her heart to these stupid, girlish +superstitions. She would—</p> + +<p>Her gloomy reflections were abruptly cut short. There was a rush and +clatter. In a perfect whirlwind of haste a horseman dashed up, dragged +his horse back on to its haunches as he pulled up, and flung out of +the saddle.</p> + +<p>It was the boy, Montana Ike. He grabbed his disreputable hat from his +ginger head, and stared agape at the vision of loveliness he had come +in search of.</p> + +<p>“Good—good-morning,” Joan said, hardly knowing how to greet this +strange apparition.</p> + +<p>The boy nodded, and moistened his lips as though consumed by a sudden +thirst.</p> + +<p>For a moment they stared stupidly at each other. Then Joan, feeling +the awkwardness of the situation, endeavored to relieve it.</p> + +<p>“Daylight?” she exclaimed interrogatively, “and you not yet out at +the—where the gold is?”</p> + +<p>Ike shook his head and grinned the harder. Then his tongue loosened, +and his words came with a sudden rush that left the girl wondering.</p> + +<p>“Y’ see the folks is eatin’ breakfast,” he said. “Y’ see I jest cut it +right out, an’ come along. I heard Pete—you know Blue Grass +Pete—he’s a low-down Kentuckian—he said he tho’t some un orter git +around hyar case you was queer after last night. Sed he guessed he +would. Guess I’ll git back ’fore they’re busy. It’ll take ’em all +hustlin’ to git ahead o’ me.”</p> + +<p>“That’s very kind,” Joan replied mechanically. But the encouragement +was scarcely needed. The boy rushed on, like a river in flood time.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p><p>“Oh, it ain’t zac’ly kind!” he said. “Y’ see they’re mostly a low-down +lot, an’ Pete’s the low-downest. He’s bad, is Pete, an’ ain’t no +bizness around a leddy. Then Beasley Melford. He’s jest a durned skunk +anyways. Don’t guess Curly Saunders ain’t much account neither. He +makes you sick to death around a whisky bottle. Abe Allinson, he’s +sort o’ mean, too. Y’ see Abe’s Slaney Dick’s pardner, an’ they bin +workin’ gold so long they ain’t got a tho’t in their gray heads ’cept +gold an’ rot-gut rye. Still, they’re better’n the Kid. The Kid’s soft, +so we call him Soapy. Guess you orter know ’em all right away. Y’ see +it’s easy a gal misbelievin’ the rights o’ folks.”</p> + +<p>Joan smiled. Something of the man’s object was becoming plain.</p> + +<p>She studied his face while he was proceeding to metaphorically nail up +each of these men’s coffins, and the curious animal alertness of it +held her interest. His eyes were wide and restless, and a hardness +marked the corners of his rather loose mouth. She wondered if that +hardness were natural, or whether it had been acquired in the +precarious life that these people lived.</p> + +<p>“It’s just as well to know—everybody,” she said gently.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it sure is, in a country like this,” the man went on confidently. +“That’s why I come along. Fellers chasin’ gold is a hell of a bad +outfit. Y’ see, I ain’t bin long chasin’ gold, an’ I don’t figger to +keep at it long neither. Y’ see, I got a good claim. Guess it’s sure +the best. We drew lots for ’em last night. It was the Padre fixed that +up. He’s a great feller, the Padre. An’ I got the best one—wher’ the +Padre found that nugget you got. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>Oh, I’m lucky—dead lucky! Guess +I’ll git a pile out o’ my claim, sure. A great big pile. Then I’m +goin’ to live swell in a big city an’ have a great big outfit of folks +workin’ fer me. An’ I’ll git hooked up with a swell gal. It’ll be a +bully proposition. Guess the gal’ll be lucky, cos I’ll have such a big +pile.”</p> + +<p>The youngster’s enthusiasm and conceit were astounding. Nor could Joan +help the coldness they inspired in her voice.</p> + +<p>“She will be lucky—marrying you,” she agreed. “But—aren’t you afraid +you’ll miss something if the others get out to the hill before you? I +mean, they being such a bad lot.”</p> + +<p>The man became serious for a second before he answered. Then, in a +moment, his face brightened into a grin of confidence.</p> + +<p>“Course you can’t trust ’em,” he said, quite missing Joan’s desire to +be rid of him. “But I don’t guess any of ’em’s likely to try monkey +tricks. Guess if any feller robbed me I’d shoot him down in his +tracks. They know that, sure. Oh, no, they won’t play no monkey +tricks. An’ anyway, I ain’t givin’ ’em a chance.”</p> + +<p>He moved toward his horse and replaced the reins over its neck in +spite of his brave words. Joan understood. She saw the meanness +underlying his pretended solicitation for her well-being. All her sex +instincts were aroused, and she quite understood the purpose of the +somewhat brutal youth.</p> + +<p>“You’re quite right to give them no chances,” she said coldly. “And +now, I s’pose, you’re going right out to your claim?”</p> + +<p>“I am that,” exclaimed the other, with a gleam of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>cupidity in his +shifty eyes. “I’m goin’ right away to dig lumps of gold fer to buy +di’monds fer that gal.”</p> + +<p>He laughed uproariously at his pleasantry as he leapt into the saddle. +But in a moment his mirth had passed, and his whole expression +suddenly hardened as he bent down from the saddle.</p> + +<p>“But ef Pete comes around you git busy an’ boot him right out. Pete’s +bad—a real bad un. He’s wuss’n Beasley. Wal, I won’t say he’s wuss. +But he’s as bad. Git me?”</p> + +<p>Joan nodded. She had no alternative. The fellow sickened her. She had +been ready to meet him as one of these irresponsible people, ignorant, +perhaps dissipated, but at least well-meaning. But here she found the +lower, meaner traits of manhood she thought were only to be found +amongst the dregs of a city. It was not a pleasant experience, and she +was glad to be rid of him.</p> + +<p>“I think I understand. Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a bright gal, you sure are,” the youth vouchsafed cordially. +“I guessed you’d understand. I like gals who understand quick. That’s +the sort o’ gal I’m goin’ to hitch up with.” He grinned, and crushed +his hat well down on his head. “Wal, so long. See you ag’in. Course I +can’t git around till after I finish on my claim. Guess you won’t feel +lonesome tho’, you got to git your farm fixed right. Wal, so long.”</p> + +<p>Joan nodded as the man rode off, thankful for the termination of his +vicious, whirlwind visit. Utterly disgusted, she turned back to the +house to find Mrs. Ransford standing in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“What’s he want?” the old woman demanded in her most uncompromising +manner.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>The girl laughed mirthlessly.</p> + +<p>“I think he wants a little honesty and kindliness knocked into his +very warped nature,” she declared, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>“Warped? Warped?” The old woman caught at the word, and it seemed to +set her groping in search of adequate epithets in which to express her +feelings. “I don’t know what that means. But he’s it anyways—they all +are.”</p> + +<p>And she vanished again into the culinary kingdom over which she +presided.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE CLAIMS OF DUTY</h3> + +<p>Half an hour later Joan left the house for the barn.</p> + +<p>In that brief space she had lived through one of those swiftly-passing +epochs in human life when mind, heart and inclination are brought into +something approaching actual conflict. But, stern as the fight with +weakness had been, she had emerged chastened and victorious. +Realization had come to her—realization of whither her troubles had +been leading her. She knew she must not abandon herself to the +selfishness which her brief rebellion had prompted. She was young, +inexperienced, and of a highly-sensitive temperament, but she was not +weak. And it was this fact which urged her now. Metaphorically +speaking, she had determined to tackle life with shirt sleeves rolled +up.</p> + +<p>She knew that duty was not only duty, but something which was to yield +her a measure of happiness. She knew, too, that duty was not only to +be regarded from a point of view of its benefit to others. There was a +duty to oneself—which must not be claimed for the sin of +selfishness—just as surely as to others; that in its thoroughness of +performance lay the secret of all that was worth having in life, and +that the disobedience of the laws of such duty, the neglect of them, +was to outrage the canons of all life’s ethics, and to bring down upon +the head of the offender the inevitable punishment.</p> + +<p>She must live her life calmly, honestly, whatever the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>fate hanging +over her. That was the first and most important decision she arrived +at. She must not weakly yield to panic inspired by superstitious +dread. To do so was, she felt, to undermine her whole moral being. She +must ignore this shadow, she must live a life that defied its power. +And when the cloud grew too black, if that method were not sufficient +to dispel it, she must appeal for alleviation and support from that +Power which would never deny its weak and helpless creatures. She knew +that human endurance of suffering was intended to be limited, and that +when that limit was honestly reached support was still waiting for the +sufferer.</p> + +<p>Thus she left the house in a chastened spirit, and once more full of +youthful courage. The work, the new life she had chosen for herself, +must fill every moment of her waking hours. And somehow she felt that +with her stern resolve had come a foretaste of that happiness she +demanded of life. Her spirits rose as she neared the barn, and a wild +excitement filled her as she contemplated a minute inspection of her +belongings and her intention to personally minister to their wants.</p> + +<p>Something of the instinct of motherhood stirred in her veins at the +thought. These were hers to care for—hers to attend and “do” for. She +laughed as she thought of the family awaiting her. What a family. Yes, +why not? These creatures were for the guardianship of the human race. +With all their physical might they were helpless dependents on human +aid. Yes, they must be thought for and cared for. They were her +family. And she laughed again.</p> + +<p>The barn was a sturdy building. Nor was it unpicturesque with its +solid, dovetailed lateral logs and heavy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>thatched roof. She saw that +it was built with the same care and finish as the house that was now +her home. She could not help wondering at the manner of man who had +designed and built it. She saw in it such deliberateness, such skill. +There was nothing here of the slap-dash prairie carpenter she had read +of—the man who flung up buildings simply for the needs of the moment. +These were buildings that might last for ages and still retain all +their original weather-proof comfort for the creatures they sheltered. +She felt pleased with this man Moreton Kenyon.</p> + +<p>She passed round the angle of the building to the doorway, and paused +for a moment to admire the scheme of the farm. Every building fronted +on a largish open space, which was split by the waters of Yellow +Creek, beyond which lay the corrals. Here was forethought. The +operative part of the farm was hidden from the house, and every detail +of it was adjacent one to another. There was the wagon shed with a +wagon in it, and harvesting implements stabled in perfect order. There +were the hog-pens, the chicken-houses; the sheds for milch cows. There +was the barn and the miniature grain store; then, across the creek, a +well, with accompanying drinking-trough, corrals with lowing kine in +them; a branding cage. And beyond these she could see a vista of +fenced pastures.</p> + +<p>As she stood reveling in the survey of her little possession the +thought recurred to her that this was hers, all hers. It was the home +of her family, and she laughed still more happily as she passed into +the barn.</p> + +<p>Pushing the door open she found herself greeted in the half-light by a +chorus of equine whinnying such as she <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>had never before experienced, +and the sound thrilled her. There stood the team of great Clydesdale +horses, their long, fiddle heads turned round staring at her with +softly inquiring eyes. She wanted to cry out in her joy, but, +restraining herself, walked up beside the nearest of them and patted +its glossy sides. Her touch was a caress which more than gave +expression to her delight.</p> + +<p>Those were precious moments to Joan. They were so precious, indeed, +that she quite forgot the purpose which had brought her there. She +forgot that it was hers to tend and feed these great, helpless +creatures. It was enough for her to sit on the swinging bail between +the stalls, and revel in the gentle nuzzling of two velvety noses. In +those first moments her sensations were unforgettable. The joy of it +all held her in its thrall, and, for the moment at least, there was +nothing else in the world.</p> + +<p>The moments passed unheeded. Every sound was lost to her. And so it +came about that she did not hear the galloping of a horse approaching. +She did not hear it come to a halt near by. She did not even notice +the figure that presently filled the doorway. And only did her first +realization of the intrusion come with the pleasant sound of a man’s +deep voice.</p> + +<p>“Bob an’ Kitty’s kind o’ friendly, Miss Joan,” it said.</p> + +<p>The girl turned with a jump and found herself confronted by Buck’s +smiling face. And oddly enough her first flash of thought was that +this man had used her own name, and not her nickname, and she was +grateful to him.</p> + +<p>Then she saw that he had the fork in his hand with which she had first +seen him, and she remembered his overnight promise to do those very +things for her which she had set out to do, but, alas! had forgotten +all about.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p><p>His presence became a reproach at once, and a slight pucker of +displeasure drew her even brows together.</p> + +<p>“You’re very kind,” she began, “but——”</p> + +<p>Buck’s smile broadened.</p> + +<p>“‘But’s’ a ter’ble word,” he said. “It most always goes ahead of +something unpleasant.” He quietly laid the fork aside, and, gathering +an armful of hay, proceeded to fill Kitty’s manger. “Now what +you wer’ going to say was something like that old—I mean your +housekeeper—said, only you wouldn’t say it so mean. You jest want to +say I’m not to git around doing the chores here for the reason you +can’t accept favors, an’ you don’t guess it would be right to offer me +pay, same as a ‘hired’ man.”</p> + +<p>He hayed Bob’s manger, and then loosened both horses’ collar chains.</p> + +<p>“If you’ll sit on the oat-box I’ll turn ’em round an’ take ’em to +water at the trough. That’s it.”</p> + +<p>Joan obeyed him without a word, and the horses were led out. And while +they were gone the girl was left to an unpleasant contemplation of the +situation. She determined to deal with the matter boldly, however, and +began the moment he returned.</p> + +<p>“You’re quite right, Mr. Buck,” she began.</p> + +<p>“Buck—jest plain Buck,” he interrupted her. “But I hadn’t jest +finished,” he went on deliberately. “I want to show you how you can’t +do those things the old—your housekeeper was yearnin’ to do. Y’ see, +you can’t get a ‘hired’ man nearer than Leeson Butte. You can’t get +him in less’n two weeks. You can’t do the chores yourself, an’ that +old—your housekeeper ain’t fit to do anything but make hash. Then you +can’t let the stock go <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>hungry. Besides all of which you’re doing me a +real kindness letting me help you out. Ther’s no favor to you. It’s +sure to me, an’ these creatures which can’t do things for themselves. +So it would be a sound proposition to cut that ‘but’ right out of our +talk an’ send word to your lawyer feller in Leeson Butte for a ‘hired’ +man. An’ when he gits around, why—well, you won’t be needin’ me.”</p> + +<p>All the time he was speaking his fork was busy clearing the stalls of +their litter, and, at the finish, he leant on the haft of it and +quizzically smiled into the girl’s beautiful, half-troubled face.</p> + +<p>Joan contemplated protesting, but somehow his manner was so friendly, +so frank and honest, that she felt it would be ungracious of her. +Finally he won the day, and she broke into a little laugh of yielding.</p> + +<p>“You talk too—too well for me,” she cried. “I oughtn’t to accept,” +she added. “I know I oughtn’t, but what am I to do? I can’t do—these +things.” Then she added regretfully: “And I thought it would be all so +simple.”</p> + +<p>Buck saw her disappointment, and it troubled him. He felt in a measure +responsible, so he hastened to make amends.</p> + +<p>“Wal, y’ see, men are rough an’ strong. They can do the things needed +around a farm. I don’t guess women wer’ made for—for the rough work +of life. It ain’t a thing to feel mean about. It’s jest in the nature +of things.”</p> + +<p>Joan nodded. All the time he was speaking she had been studying him, +watching the play of expression upon his mobile features rather than +paying due attention to his words.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>She decided that she liked the look of him. It was not that he was +particularly handsome. He seemed so strong, and yet so—so +unconcerned. She wondered if that were only his manner. She knew that +often volcanic natures, reckless, were hidden under a perfect calm. +She wondered if it were so in his case. His eyes were so full of a +brilliant dark light. Yes, surely this man roused might be an +interesting personality. She remembered him last night. She remembered +the strange, superheated fire in those same eyes when he had hurled +the gold at her feet. Yes, she felt sure a tremendous force lay behind +his calmness of manner.</p> + +<p>The man’s thoughts were far less analytical. His was not the nature to +search the psychology of a beautiful girl. To him Joan was the most +wonderful thing on earth. She was something to be reverenced, to be +worshipped. His imagination, fired by all his youthful impulse, +endowed her with every gift that the mind of simple manhood could +conceive, every virtue, every beauty of mind as well as body.</p> + +<p>Joan watched him for some moments as he continued his work. It was +wonderful how easy he made it seem, how quickly it was done. She even +found herself regretting that in a few minutes the morning “chores” +would be finished, and this man would be away to—where?</p> + +<p>“You must have been up very early to get over here,” she said +designedly. Her girlish curiosity and interest could no longer be +denied. She must find out what he was and what he did for a living.</p> + +<p>“I’m mostly up early,” he replied simply.</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course. But—you have your own—stock to see to?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>She felt quite pleased with her cunning. But her pleasure was +short-lived.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he returned, with disarming frankness.</p> + +<p>“It really doesn’t seem fair that you should have the double work,” +she went on, with another attempt to penetrate his reserve.</p> + +<p>Buck’s smile was utterly baffling. He walked to the door of the barn +and gave a prolonged, low whistle. Then he came back.</p> + +<p>“It sure wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t,” he said simply.</p> + +<p>“But you must have heaps to do on your—farm,” Joan went on, feeling +that she was on the right track at last “Look at what you’re doing for +me. These horses, the cattle, the—the pigs and things. I’ve no doubt +you have much more to see to of your own.”</p> + +<p>At that moment the head of Cæsar appeared in the doorway. He stared +round the familiar stable evidently searching for his master. Finally +catching sight of him, he clattered in to the place and rubbed his +handsome head against Buck’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“This is my stock,” Buck said, affectionately rubbing the creature’s +nose. “An’ I generally manage to see to him while the kettle’s boilin’ +for breakfast.”</p> + +<p>Just for a moment Joan felt abashed at her deliberate attempt to pump +her companion. Then the quick, inquiring survey of the beautiful horse +was too much for her, and she left her seat to join in the caresses.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t he a beauty?” she cried, smoothing his silken face from the +star on his forehead to the tip of his wide muzzle.</p> + +<p>Just for a second her hand came into contact with the man’s, and, all +unconscious, she let it remain. Then suddenly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>realizing the position +she drew it away rather sharply.</p> + +<p>Buck made no move, but had she only looked up she must have noted the +sudden pallor of his face. That brief touch, so unconscious, so +unmeaning, had again set his pulses hammering through his body. And it +had needed all his control to repress the fiery impulse that stirred +him. He longed to kiss that soft white hand. He longed to take it in +his own strong palms and hold it for his own, to keep it forever. But +the moment passed, and when he spoke it was in the same pleasant, easy +fashion.</p> + +<p>“I kind o’ thought I ought to let him go with the farm,” he said, +“only the Padre wouldn’t think of it. He’d have made a dandy feller +for you to ride.”</p> + +<p>But Joan was up in arms in a moment.</p> + +<p>“I’d never have forgiven you if you’d parted with him,” she cried. +“He’s—he’s perfectly beautiful.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded.</p> + +<p>“He’s a good feller.” And his tone said far more than his words.</p> + +<p>He led the beast to the door, and, giving him an affectionate slap, +sent him trotting off.</p> + +<p>“I must git busy,” he said, with a laugh. “The hay needs cuttin’. +Guess I’ll cut till dinner. After that I’ve got to quit till sundown. +I’ll go right on cuttin’ each mornin’ till your ‘hired’ man comes +along. Y’ see if it ain’t cut now we’ll be too late. I’ll just throw +the harness on Kitty an’ Bob an’ leave ’em to git through with their +feed while I see the hogs fed. Guess that old—your housekeeper can +milk? I ran the cows into the corral as I came up. Seems to me she +could do most things she got fixed on doing.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p><p>Joan laughed.</p> + +<p>“She was ‘fixed’ on sending you about what she called ‘your +business,’” she said slyly.</p> + +<p>Buck raised his brows in mock chagrin.</p> + +<p>“Guess she succeeded, too. I sure got busy right away—until you come +along, and—and got me quittin’.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” Joan stared at him with round eyes of reproach. Then she burst +out laughing. “Well, now you shall hear the truth for that, and you’ll +have to answer me too, Mr. Buck.”</p> + +<p>“Buck—jest plain Buck.”</p> + +<p>The girl made an impatient little movement.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, ‘Buck.’ I simply came along to thank you, and to tell you +that I couldn’t allow your help—except as a ‘hired’ man. And—I’m +afraid you’ll think me very curious—I came to find out who you were, +and how you came to find me and bring me home here. And—and I wanted +to know—well, everything about my arrival. And you—you’ve made it +all very difficult. You—insist on doing all this for me. +You’re—you’re not so kind as I thought.”</p> + +<p>Joan’s complaint was made half-laughingly and half-seriously. Buck saw +the reality underlying her words, but determined to ignore it and only +answer her lighter manner.</p> + +<p>“If you’d only asked me these things I’d have told you right away,” he +protested, smiling. “Y’ see you never asked me.”</p> + +<p>“I—I was trying to,” Joan said feebly.</p> + +<p>Buck paused in the act of securing Kitty’s harness.</p> + +<p>“That old—your housekeeper wouldn’t ha’ spent a deal of time trying,” +he said dryly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p><p>Joan ignored the allusion.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe you intend to tell me now,” she said.</p> + +<p>Buck left the stall and stood before the corn-box. His eyes were still +smiling though his manner was tremendously serious.</p> + +<p>“You’re wantin’ to know who I am,” he said. Then he paused, glancing +out of the doorway, and the girl watched the return of that thoughtful +expression which she had come to associate with his usual manner. +“Wal,” he said at last, in his final way, “I’m Buck, and I was picked +up on the trail-side, starving, twenty years ago by the Padre. He’s +raised me, an’ we’re big friends. An’ now, since we sold his farm, +we’re living at the old fur fort, back ther’ in the hills, and we’re +goin’ to get a living pelt hunting. I’ve got no folks, an’ no name +except Buck. I was called Buck. All I can remember is that my folks +were farmers, but got burnt out in a prairie fire, and—burnt to +death. That’s why I was on the trail starving when the Padre found +me.”</p> + +<p>Joan’s eyes had softened with a gentle sympathy, but she offered no +word.</p> + +<p>“’Bout the other,” the man went on, turning back to the girl, and +letting his eyes rest on her fair face, “that’s easy, too. I was at +the shack of the boys in the storm. You come along an’ wer’ lying +right ther’ on the door-sill when I found you. I jest carried you +right here. Y’ see, I guessed who you wer’. Your cart was wrecked on +the bank o’ the creek——”</p> + +<p>“And the teamster?” Joan’s eyes were eagerly appealing.</p> + +<p>Buck turned away.</p> + +<p>“Oh, guess he was ther’ too.” Then he abruptly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>moved toward the +horses. “Say, I’ll get on an’ cut that hay.”</p> + +<p>Joan understood. She knew that the teamster was dead. She sighed +deeply, and as the sound reached him Buck looked round. It was on the +tip of his tongue to say some word of comfort, for he knew that Joan +had understood that the man was dead, but the girl herself, under the +influence of her new resolve, made it unnecessary. She rose from her +seat, and her manner suggested a forced lightness.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go and feed the chickens,” she said. “I—I ought to be capable +of doing that.”</p> + +<p>Buck smiled as he prepared to go and see to the hogs.</p> + +<p>“Guess you won’t have trouble—if you know what to give ’em,” he said.</p> + +<p>Nor was he quite sure if the girl were angry or smiling as she hurried +out of the barn.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>GOLD AND ALLOY</h3> + +<p>The seedling of success planted in rank soil generally develops a +wild, pernicious growth which, until the summer of its life has +passed, is untameable and pollutes all that with which it comes into +contact. The husbandman may pluck at its roots, but the seed is flung +broadcast, and he finds himself wringing his hands helplessly in the +wilderness.</p> + +<p>So it was on the banks of Yellow Creek. The seedling was already +flinging its tendrils and fastening tightly upon the life of the +little camp. The change had come within three weeks of the moment when +the Padre had gazed upon that first wonderful find of gold. So rapid +was its development that it was almost staggering to the man who stood +by watching the result of the news he had first carried to the camp.</p> + +<p>The Padre wandered the hills with trap and gun. Nothing could win him +from the pursuit which was his. But his eyes were wide open to those +things which had somehow become the care of his leisure. Many of his +evenings were spent in the camp, and there he saw and heard the things +which, in his working moments, gave him food for a disquietude of +thought.</p> + +<p>He knew that the luck that had come to the camp was no ordinary luck. +His first find had suggested something phenomenal, but it was nothing +to the reality. A wealth <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>almost incalculable had been yielded by a +prodigal Nature. Every claim into which he, with the assistance of the +men of the camp, had divided the find, measured carefully and balloted +for, was rich beyond all dreams. Two or three were richer than the +others, but this was the luck of the ballot, and the natural envy +inspired thereby was of a comparatively harmless character.</p> + +<p>At first the thought of these things was one of a pleasant +satisfaction. These men had waited, and suffered, and starved for +their chance, and he was glad their chance had come. How many had +waited, and suffered and starved, as they had done, and done all those +things in vain? Yes, it was a pleasant thought, and it gave him zest +and hope in his own life.</p> + +<p>The first days passed in a perfect whirlwind of joy. Where before had +sounded only the moanings of despair, now the banks of Yellow Creek +rang with laughter and joyous voices, bragging, hoping, jesting. One +and all saw their long-dimmed hopes looming bright in the prospect of +fulfilment.</p> + +<p>Then came a change. Just at first it was hardly noticeable. But it +swiftly developed, and the shrewd mind of the watcher in the hills +realized that the days of halcyon were passing all too swiftly. Men +were no longer satisfied with hopes. They wanted realities.</p> + +<p>To want the realities with their simple, unrestrained passions, and +the means of obtaining them at their disposal, was to demand them. To +demand them was to have them. They wanted a saloon. They wanted an +organized means of gambling, they wanted a town, with all its means of +satisfying appetites that had all too long hungered for what they +regarded as the necessary <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>pleasures of life. They wanted a means of +spending the accumulations gleaned from the ample purse of mother +Nature. And, in a moment, they set about the work of possessing these +things.</p> + +<p>As is always the case the means was not far to seek. It needed but one +mind, keener in self-interest than the rest, and that mind was to +hand. Beasley Melford, at no time a man who cared for the physical +hardships of the life of these people, saw his opportunity and +snatched it. He saw in it a far greater gold-mine than his own claim +could ever yield him, and he promptly laid his plans.</p> + +<p>He set to work without any noise, any fuss. He was too foxy to shout +until his purpose was beyond all possibility of failure. He simply +disappeared from the camp for a week. His absence was noted, but no +one cared. They were too full of their own affairs. The only people +who thought on the matter were the Padre and Buck. Nor did they speak +of it until he had been missing four days. Then it was, one evening as +they were returning from their traps, the Padre gave some inkling of +what had been busy in his thoughts all day.</p> + +<p>“It’s queer about Beasley,” he said, pausing to look back over a great +valley out of which they had just climbed, and beyond which the +westering sun was shining upon the distant snow-fields.</p> + +<p>Buck turned sharply at the sound of his companion’s voice. They were +not given to talking much out on these hills.</p> + +<p>“He’s been away nigh four days,” he said, and took the opportunity of +shifting his burden of six freshly-taken fox pelts and lighting his +pipe.</p> + +<p>The Padre nodded.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p><p>“I think he’ll be back soon,” he said. Then he added slowly: “It seems +a pity.”</p> + +<p>“His coming back?” Buck eyed his companion quickly.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Wher’ d’you reckon he’s gone?”</p> + +<p>The elder man raised a pair of astonished brows.</p> + +<p>“Why, to Leeson Butte,” he said decidedly. Then he went on quietly, +but with neither doubt nor hesitation: “There’s a real big change +coming here—when Beasley gets back. These men want drink, they are +getting restless for high play. They are hankering for—for the +flesh-pots they think their gold entitles them to. Beasley will give +them all those things when he comes back. It’s a pity.”</p> + +<p>Buck thought for some moments before he answered. He was viewing the +prospect from the standpoint of his years.</p> + +<p>“They must sure have had ’em anyway,” he said at last.</p> + +<p>“Ye—es.”</p> + +<p>The Padre understood what was in the other’s mind.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he went on presently, “I wasn’t thinking of that so much. +It’s—well, it amounts to this. These poor devils are just working to +fill Beasley’s pockets. Beasley’s the man who’ll benefit by this +‘strike.’ In a few months the others will be on the road again, going +through all—that they’ve gone through before.”</p> + +<p>“I guess they will,” Buck agreed. His point of view had changed. He +was seeing through the older eyes. After that they moved on toward +their home lost in the thoughts which their brief talk had inspired.</p> + +<p>In a few days the Padre’s prophecy was fulfilled. Beasley <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>returned +from Leeson Butte at the head of a small convoy. He had contrived his +negotiations with a wonderful skill and foresight. His whole object +had been secrecy, and this had been difficult. To shout the wealth of +the camp in Leeson Butte would have been to bring instantly an +avalanche of adventurers and speculators to the banks of Yellow Creek. +His capital was limited to the small amount he had secretly hoarded +while his comrades were starving, and the gold he had taken from his +claim. The latter was his chief asset not from its amount, but its +nature. Therefore he had been forced to take the leading merchant in +the little prairie city into his confidence, and to suggest a +partnership. This he had done, and a plausible tongue, and the sight +of the wonderful raw gold, had had the effect he desired. The +partnership was arranged, the immediate finance was forthcoming, and, +for the time at least, Leeson Butte was left in utter ignorance of its +neighboring Eldorado.</p> + +<p>Once he had made his deal with Silas McGinnis, Beasley promptly opened +his heart in characteristic fashion.</p> + +<p>“They’re all sheep, every one of ’em,” he beamed upon his confederate. +“They’ll be so easy fleecin’ it seems hardly worth while. All they +need is liquor, and cards, and dice. Yes, an’ a few women hangin’ +around. You can leave the rest to themselves. We’ll get the gilt, and +to hell with the dough under it. Gee, it’s an elegant proposition!” +And he rubbed his hands gleefully. “But ther’ must be no delay. We +must get busy right away before folks get wind of the luck. I’ll need +marquees an’ things until I can get a reg’lar shanty set up. Have you +got a wood spoiler you can trust?”</p> + +<p>McGinnis nodded.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p><p>“Then weight him down with money so we don’t need to trust him too +much, and ship him out with the lumber so he can begin right away. +We’re goin’ to make an elegant pile.”</p> + +<p>In his final remark lay the key-note of his purpose. But the truth of +it would have been infinitely more sure had the pronoun been singular.</p> + +<p>Never was so much popularity extended to Beasley in his life as at the +moment of his return to camp. When the gold-seekers beheld his convoy, +with the wagons loaded with all those things their hearts and stomachs +craved, the majority found themselves in a condition almost ready to +fling welcoming arms about his neck. Their wishes had been expressed, +their demands made, and now, here they were fulfilled.</p> + +<p>A rush of trade began almost before the storekeeper’s marquee was +erected. It began without regard to cost, at least on the purchasers’ +parts. The currency was gold, weighed in scales which Beasley had +provided, and his exorbitant charges remained quite unheeded by the +reckless creatures he had marked down for his victims.</p> + +<p>In twenty-four hours the camp was in high revelry. In forty-eight +Beasley’s rough organization was nearing completion. And long before +half those hours had passed gold was pouring into the storekeeper’s +coffers at a pace he had never even dreamed of.</p> + +<p>But the first rush was far too strenuous to be maintained for long. +The strain was too great even for such wild spirits as peopled the +camp. It soared to its height with a dazzling rapidity, culminating in +a number of quarrels and fights, mixed up with some incipient +shooting, after which a slight reaction set in which reduced it to a +simmer <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>at a magnificently profitable level for the foxy storekeeper. +Still, there remained ample evidence that the Devil was rioting in the +camp and would continue to do so just as long as the lure of gold +could tempt his victims.</p> + +<p>Then came the inevitable. In a few days it became apparent that the +news of the “strike” had percolated abroad. Beasley’s attempt at +secrecy had lasted him just sufficiently long to establish himself as +the chief trader. Then came the rush from the outside.</p> + +<p>It was almost magical the change that occurred in one day. The place +became suddenly alive with strangers from Leeson Butte and Bay Creek, +and even farther afield. Legitimate traders came to spy out the land. +Loafers came in and sat about waiting for developments. Gamblers, +suave, easy, ingratiating, foregathered and started the ball of high +stakes rolling. And in their wake came all that class of carrion which +is ever seeking something for nothing. But the final brand of +lawlessness was set on the camp by the arrival of a number of jaded, +painted women, who took up their abode in a disused shack sufficiently +adjacent to Beasley’s store to suit their purposes. It was all very +painful, all very deplorable. Yet it was the perfectly natural +evolution of a successful mining camp—a place where, before the firm +hand of Morality can obtain its restraining grip, human nature just +runs wild.</p> + +<p>The seedling had grown. Its rank tendrils were everywhere reaching out +and choking all the better life about it. Its seeds were scattered +broadcast and had germinated as only such seeds can. It only remained +for the husbandman to gaze regretful and impotent upon his handiwork. +His hand had planted the seedling, and now—already the wilderness was +beyond all control.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p><p>Something of this was in the Padre’s mind as he sat in his doorway +awaiting Buck’s return for the night. The dusk was growing, and +already the shadows within the ancient stockade were black with +approaching night. The waiting man had forgotten his pipe, so deeply +was he engrossed with his thoughts, and it rested cold in his powerful +hand.</p> + +<p>He sat on oblivious of everything but that chain of calm reasoning +with which he tried to tell himself that the things happening down +there on the banks of the Yellow Creek must be. He told himself that +he had always known it; that the very fact of this lawlessness pointed +the camp’s prosperity, and showed how certainly the luck had come to +stay. Later, order would be established out of the chaos, but for the +moment there was nothing to be done but—wait. All this he told +himself, but it left him dissatisfied, and his thoughts concentrated +upon the one person he blamed for all the mischief. Beasley was the +man—and he felt that wherever Beasley might be, trouble would never +be far——What was that?</p> + +<p>An unusual sound had caught and held his attention. He rose quickly +from his seat and stood peering out into the darkness which he had +failed to notice creeping on him. There was no mistaking it. The sound +of running feet was quite plain. Why running?</p> + +<p>He turned about and moved over to the arm rack. The next moment he was +in the doorway again with his Winchester at his side.</p> + +<p>A few moments later a short, stocky man leapt out of the darkness and +halted before him. As the Padre recognized him his finger left the +trigger of his gun.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>“For Gawd’s sake don’t shoot, Padre!”</p> + +<p>It was Curly Saunders’ voice, and the other laid his gun aside.</p> + +<p>“What’s amiss?” demanded the Padre, noting the man’s painful gasping +for breath.</p> + +<p>For a moment Curly hesitated. Then, finally, between heavy breaths he +answered the challenge.</p> + +<p>“I got mad with the Kid—Soapy,” he said. “Guess I shot him up. He +ain’t dead an’ ain’t goin’ to die, but Beasley, curse him, set ’em on +to lynch me. They’re all mad drunk—guess I was, too, ’fore I started +to run—an’ they come hot foot after me. I jest got legs of ’em an’ +come along here. It’s—it’s a mighty long ways.”</p> + +<p>The Padre listened without moving a muscle—the story so perfectly +fitted in with his thoughts.</p> + +<p>“The Kid isn’t dead? He isn’t going to die?” His voice had neither +condemnation nor sympathy in it.</p> + +<p>“No. It’s jest a flesh wound on the outside of his thigh.”</p> + +<p>“What was the trouble?”</p> + +<p>“Why, the durned young skunk wus jest tryin’ to set them—them women +payin’ a ‘party’ call on the gal at the farm, an’ they wus drunk +enough to do it. It made me mad—an’—an’, wal, we got busy with our +tongues, an’ I shot him up fair an’ squar’.”</p> + +<p>“And how about Beasley?”</p> + +<p>“Why, it was him set the Kid to git the women on the racket. When he +see how I’d stopped it he got madder than hell, an’ went right out fer +lynchin’ me. The boys wus drunk enough to listen to his lousy talk.”</p> + +<p>“Was he drunk?”</p> + +<p>“Not on your life. Beasley’s too sweet on the dollars. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>But I guess +he’s got his knife into that Golden Woman of ours.”</p> + +<p>The Padre had no more questions to ask. He dropped back into the room +and lit the oil lamp.</p> + +<p>“Come right in, Curly,” he said kindly. Then he laid his rifle on the +table and pointed at it. “The magazine’s loaded plumb up. Guess no man +has a right to give up his life without a kick. That’ll help you if +they come along—which they won’t. Maybe Buck’ll be along directly. +Don’t shoot him down. Anyway he’s got Cæsar with him—so you’ll know. +I’m going down to the camp.”</p> + +<p>For a second the two men looked into each other’s eyes. The Padre read +the suspicion in Curly’s. He also saw the unhealthy lines in his +cheeks and round his mouth. Nor could he help feeling disgusted at the +thoughts of the fortune that had come to the camp and brought all +these hideous changes in its wake.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I’m not giving you away,” he said. “Guess I’ll be back in an hour.”</p> + +<p>Curly nodded and moved over to one of the two chairs.</p> + +<p>“Thanks, Padre,” he said as the other passed quickly out of the room.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>TWO POINTS OF VIEW</h3> + +<p>Beasley Melford was in a detestable mood. For one reason his miserable +bar was empty of all customers, and, for another, he knew that he was +responsible for the fact.</p> + +<p>Had he any sense of humor, the absurdity of the thing must have forced +itself upon him and possibly helped to improve his temper. But he had +no humor, and so abandoned himself to the venomous temper that was +practically the mainspring of his life.</p> + +<p>He cursed his absent customers. He cursed the man, Curly Saunders. He +cursed the girl whom the trouble had been about. But more than all he +cursed himself for his own folly in permitting a desire to bait Joan +Rest to interfere with his business.</p> + +<p>In his restless mood he sought to occupy himself, and, nothing else +offering, he cleared his rough counter of glasses, plunged them into a +bucket of filthy water, and set them out to drain. Then he turned his +attention to his two oil lamps. He snuffed them with his dirty fingers +in a vain attempt to improve their miserable light. Then, seating +himself upon his counter, he lit a cheap green cigar and prepared to +wait.</p> + +<p>“Damn ’em all anyway,” he muttered comprehensively, and abandoned +himself to watching the hands of a cheap alarm clock creeping on +toward the hour of nine.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p><p>Apparently the soothing influence of his cigar changed the trend of +his thoughts, for presently he began to smile in his own unpleasant +way. He was reviewing the scene which his venom had inspired, and the +possibilities of it—at the moment delayed, but not abandoned—gave +him a peculiar sense of gratification.</p> + +<p>He was thinking, too, of Joan Rest and some others. He was thinking of +the day of her arrival in the camp, and the scene that had followed +Buck’s discovery of her. He could never forgive that scene, or those +who took part in it. Buck, more surely than anybody else, he could +never forgive. He had always hated Buck and his friend the Padre. They +had been in a position to hand out benefits to the starving camp, and +patronage was an intolerable insult to a man of his peculiar venom. +The thought that he owed those men anything was anathema to him, for +he knew in his heart that they despised him.</p> + +<p>Since the day of Joan’s coming he had pondered upon how he could pay +Buck something of that which he owed him for the insult that still +rankled. He had been called an “outlaw parson,” and the truth of the +appellation made the insult only the more maddening. Nothing else +could have hurt the man so much as to remind him of the downfall which +had reduced him to an “outlaw parson.”</p> + +<p>He had told Buck then that he would not forget. He might have added +that he could not forget. So, ever since, he had cast about for any +and every means of hurting the man who had injured him, and his +curiously mean mind set him groping in the remotest and more subtle +directions. Nor had it taken him long to locate the most vulnerable +point in Buck’s armor. He had realized something <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>of the possibilities +at the first coming of Joan. He had seen then the effect of the +beautiful inanimate body upon the man’s susceptibilities. It had been +instantaneous. Then had come that scene at the farm, and Buck’s +further insult over the gold which he had hated to see pass into the +girl’s possession. It was then that the first glimmer of an opening +for revenge had shown itself to him.</p> + +<p>The rest was the simple matter of camp gossip. Here he learned, +through the ridicule bestowed upon Montana Ike and Pete, who were +always trying to outdo each other in their rivalry for the favors of +Joan, and who never missed an opportunity of visiting the farm when +they knew they would find her there, of Buck’s constant attendance +upon Joan. He needed very little of his evil imagination to tell him +the rest. With Buck in love with the woman it was a simple enough +process to his scheming mind to drive home his revenge upon the +man—through her.</p> + +<p>The necessary inspiration had come that night, when the four women +vultures, plying their trade of preying upon the men in his bar, had +reached a sufficient degree of drunkenness. Then it had occurred to +his devilish mind to bribe them into going across to the farm and +paying what he was pleased to call a “party” call upon its mistress, +and, in their own phraseology, to “raise hell with her.”</p> + +<p>It was a master stroke. Then had come Curly’s interference. The fool +had spoilt it all. Nobody but Curly had attempted to interfere. The +men had all been too drunk to bother, and the women had jumped at the +chance of morally rending a virtuous member of their own sex.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>He laughed silently as he thought of it all. But his laugh only +expressed his gratification at the subtlety of his ideas. His failure +still annoyed him. Curly had stood champion for this Golden Woman, as +they called her. Well, it wasn’t his, Beasley’s, fault if he hadn’t +paid for his interference by this time. The men were quite drunk +enough to hang him, or shoot him for “doing up” young Kid, who had +been a mere tool in the matter. He cordially hoped they had. Anyway, +the sport at Joan’s expense was too good to miss, and the night was +still young.</p> + +<p>The prospect almost entirely restored his good-humor, and he was still +smiling when the door was suddenly pushed open and the Padre’s burly +figure appeared on the threshold.</p> + +<p>The saloon-keeper’s smile died at sight of the familiar white hair. Of +all the people on Yellow Creek this was the man he least wanted to see +at the moment. But he was shrewd enough to avoid any sign of open +antagonism. He knew well enough that Moreton Kenyon was neither a fool +nor a coward. He knew that to openly measure swords with him was to +challenge a man of far superior intellect and strength, and the issue +was pretty sure to go against him. Besides, this man they +affectionately called the Padre had the entire good-will of the place.</p> + +<p>But though he always avoided open antagonism the storekeeper never let +go his grip on his dislike. He clung to it hoping to discover some +means of breaking the man’s position in the camp and bringing about an +utter revulsion of the public feeling for him. There was much about +the Padre that gave him food for thought. One detail in particular was +always in his mind, a detail such as a mind <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>like his was bound to +question closely. He could never understand the man’s object in the +isolation of the life he had lived for so many years here in the back +country of the West.</p> + +<p>However, he was only concerned at the moment with the object of this +unusual visit, and his shrewd speculation turned upon the pursuit of +Curly.</p> + +<p>“Evenin’, Padre,” he said, with a cordiality the most exacting could +have found no fault with.</p> + +<p>“Good-evening,” replied the newcomer, smiling pleasantly as he glanced +round the sordid hovel. Then he added: “Times are changed, sure. +But—where are your customers?”</p> + +<p>Beasley’s quick eyes gazed sharply at the perfect mask of disarming +geniality. He was looking for some sign to give him a lead, but there +was only easy good-nature in the deep gray eyes beneath their shaggy +brows.</p> + +<p>“Guess they’re out chasin’ that fool-head Curly Saunders,” he said +unguardedly. However, he saw his mistake in an instant and tried to +rectify it. “Y’ see they’re always skylarkin’ when they git liquor +under their belts.”</p> + +<p>“Skylarking?” The Padre propped himself against the bar, and his eyes +suddenly rested on an ugly stain on the sand floor.</p> + +<p>Beasley followed his glance, and beheld the pool of blood which had +flowed from the Kid’s wound. He cursed himself for not having +obliterated it. Then, in a moment, he decided to carry the matter with +a high hand.</p> + +<p>“Psha’! What’s the use’n beatin’ around!” he said half-defiantly. +“They’re chasin’ Curly to lynch him for shootin’ up the Kid.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p><p>The Padre gave a well-assumed start and emitted a low whistle. Then he +turned directly toward the counter.</p> + +<p>“You best have a drink on me—for the good of the house,” he said. +“I’ll take rye.”</p> + +<p>Beasley swung himself across the counter with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“Say, that beats the devil!” he cried. “I’ll sure drink with you. No +one sooner.”</p> + +<p>The Padre nodded.</p> + +<p>“Splendid,” he smiled. Then as the other passed glasses and the +bottle, he went on: “Tell us about it—the racket, I mean.”</p> + +<p>Beasley helped himself to a drink and laughed harshly.</p> + +<p>“Wal, I didn’t get it right,” he said, raising his glass. “Here’s +‘how’!” He gulped down his drink and set the empty glass on the +counter. “Y’ see, I was handin’ out drinks when the racket started. +They were all muckin’ around with them four sluts that come in town +the other day. Guess they was all most sloshed to the gills. First +thing I know they were quarreling, then some un got busy with a gun. +Then they started chasin’ Curly, an’ I see the Kid lying around shot +up. It was jest a flesh wound, an’ I had him boosted out to his own +shack. His partner, Pete—they struck a partnership, those two—why, I +guess he’s seein’ to him. ’Tain’t on’y a scratch.”</p> + +<p>The Padre set his glass down. He had not drunk his liquor at a gulp +like the other.</p> + +<p>“Pity,” he said, his eyes turned again to the blood-stained floor. “I +s’pose it was the women—I mean the cause?”</p> + +<p>The man’s manner was so disarming that Beasley felt quite safe in +“opening out.”</p> + +<p>“Pity?” he laughed brutally. “Wher’s the pity? <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>Course it was the +women. It’s always the women. Set men around a bunch of women and +ther’s always trouble. It’s always been, and it always will be. Ther’s +no pity about it I can see. We’re all made that way, and those who set +us on this rotten earth meant it so, or it wouldn’t be.”</p> + +<p>The Padre’s gray eyes surveyed the narrow face before him. This man, +with his virulent meanness, his iron-gray hair, his chequered past, +always interested him.</p> + +<p>“And do you think this sort of trouble would occur if—if the men +hadn’t been drunk?” he asked pointedly.</p> + +<p>Beasley’s antagonism surged, but his outward seeming was perfectly +amiable.</p> + +<p>“Meaning me?” he asked, with a grin.</p> + +<p>The Padre shrugged.</p> + +<p>“I was thinking that these things have been occurring ever since the +camp was flooded with——”</p> + +<p>“Rye!” Beasley’s eyes sparkled. He reached the Padre’s now empty glass +and gave him a fresh one, pushing the bottle toward him. “You’ll hev a +drink on me, an’ if you’ve got time, I’ll tell you about this thing.”</p> + +<p>The other submitted, and the drink was poured out. The Padre ignored +his.</p> + +<p>“Get right ahead,” he said in his easy way.</p> + +<p>Beasley leered over the rim of his glass as he drank his whisky.</p> + +<p>“You think it’s rye,” he said, setting his glass down with unnecessary +force. “An’ I say it’s the women—or the woman. Trouble come to this +camp with that tow-headed gal over at the farm. Anybody with two eyes +could see that. Anybody that wasn’t as blind as a dotin’ mother. The +boys are all mad ’bout her. They’re plumb-crazed. They got her +tow-head and sky-blue eyes <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>on their addled brains, an’ all the +youngsters, anyway, are fumin’ jealous of each other, and ready to +shoot, or do anything else that comes handy, to out the other feller. +That’s the root of the trouble—an’ you brought that about selling her +your farm.”</p> + +<p>Beasley had let himself go intending to aggravate, but the other’s +manner still remained undisturbed.</p> + +<p>“But this only happens when they’re drunk,” he said mildly.</p> + +<p>Beasley’s angry impatience broke out.</p> + +<p>“Tcha’! Drunk or sober it don’t make any difference. I tell you the +whole camp’s on edge over that gal. It only needs a word to set things +hummin’. It’s that gal! She’s a Jonah, a Hoodoo to us all—to this +place. She’s got rotten luck all over her—and you brought her here. +You needn’t try an’ sling mud at me fer handing them the rot-gut the +boys ask for. Get that woman out of the place and things’ll level up +right away.”</p> + +<p>The man’s rudeness still seemed to have no effect.</p> + +<p>“But all this doesn’t seem to fit in with—with this affair to-night,” +the Padre argued. “You said it began, you thought, over the four women +you allow in here.”</p> + +<p>Beasley was being steadily drawn without knowing it. His swift-rising +spleen led him farther into the trap.</p> + +<p>“So it did,” he snapped. Then he laughed mirthlessly. “Y’ see some one +suggested those gals pay a ‘party’ call on your Golden Woman,” he said +with elaborate sarcasm. “And it was because Mr. Curly Saunders sort o’ +fancies he’s got some sort of right to that lady he butted in and shot +up the Kid.”</p> + +<p>“Who suggested it?” asked the other quickly, his mild gray eyes +hardening.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>“Why, the Kid.”</p> + +<p>The Padre looked the saloon-keeper squarely in the eye.</p> + +<p>“And who put it into that foolish boy’s head?” he asked slowly.</p> + +<p>Beasley’s face purpled with rage.</p> + +<p>“You needn’t to put things that way with me,” he cried. “If you got +things to say, say ’em right out. You reckon I was the man who +suggested——”</p> + +<p>“I do.”</p> + +<p>The Padre’s eyes were wide open. The hard gray gleam literally bored +into the other’s heated face. He stood up, his whole body rigid with +purpose.</p> + +<p>“I say right here that you were responsible for it all. The Kid wasn’t +capable of inventing such a dirty trick on a decent girl. He was +sufficiently drunk to be influenced by you, and, but for Curly’s +timely interference, you would doubtless have had your rotten way. I +tell you the trouble, whatever trouble happens in this camp, is +trouble which you are directly or indirectly responsible for. These +men, in their sober senses, are harmless. Give them the poison you +charge extortionately for and they are ready to do anything. I warn +you, Beasley, to be careful what you do—be damned careful. There are +ways of beating you, and, by thunder! I’ll beat you at your own game! +Good-night!”</p> + +<p>The Padre turned and walked out, leaving the discomfited storekeeper +speechless with rage, his narrow eyes glaring after him.</p> + +<p>Moreton Kenyon was never a man to allow an impulse of anger to get the +better of him. All that he had said to Beasley he had made up his mind +to say before starting for the camp. There was only one way of dealing +with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>the man’s genius for mischief. And that way did not lie in the +direction of persuasion or moral talk. Force was the only thing such a +nature as his would yield to. The Padre knew well enough that such +force lay to his command should he choose to exert his influence in +the camp. He was man of the world enough to understand that the moral +condition of the life in this camp must level itself. It could not be +regulated—yet. But the protection of a young and beautiful girl was +not only his duty, but the duty of every sane citizen in the district, +and he was determined it should be carried out. There was no ordinary +law to hold this renegade in check, so, if necessary, he must be +treated to the harshness of a law framed by the unpracticed hands of +men who only understood the wild in which they lived.</p> + +<p>On his way home the Padre encountered Buck, who had been back to the +fur fort, and, learning from Curly the facts of what had occurred, was +now on his way to join his friend.</p> + +<p>They paused to talk for some minutes, and their talk was upon those +things which were still running through their minds in a hot tide of +resentment. After a while they parted, Buck to continue his way to the +camp, and the Padre to his home.</p> + +<p>“I think it’s all right for to-night,” the Padre said as he prepared +to move off. “I don’t think he’ll make another attempt. Anyway, the +boys will be sober. But you might have an eye on him.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded, and in the darkness the fierce anger in his dark eyes was +lost to his companion.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be to home when the camp’s abed,” he said. “I’ll sure see the +gal safe.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>So they parted, leaving the Padre perfectly confident in Buck’s +ability to make good his assurance.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>It was a wild scene inside the drinking-booth over which the +ex-Churchman presided. The men had returned from their fruitless +pursuit of their intended victim. And as they came in, no longer +furiously determined upon a man’s life, but laughing and joking over +the events of their blind journey in the darkness, Beasley saw that +they were rapidly sobering.</p> + +<p>Still raging inwardly at the result of the Padre’s visit he set to +work at once, and, before any one else could call for a drink, he +seized the opportunity himself. He plied them with a big drink at his +own expense, and so promptly enlisted their favor—incidentally +setting their appetites for a further orgie with a sharpness that it +would take most of the night to appease.</p> + +<p>The ball set rolling by his cunning hand quickly ran riot, and soon +the place again became the pandemonium which was its nightly habit. +Good-humor was the prevalent note, however. The men realized now, in +their half-sober senses, that the Kid was only wounded, and this +inclined them to leniency toward Curly. So it was quickly evident that +their recently-intended victim need no longer have any fear for his +life. He was forgiven as readily and as easily as he had been +condemned.</p> + +<p>So the night proceeded. The roulette board was set going again in one +corner of the hut and a crowd hung about it, while the two operators +of it, “Diamond” Jack and his partner, strangers to the place, raked +in their harvest. The air was thick with the reek of cheap cigars, +sold at tremendous prices, and the foul atmosphere of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>stale drink. +The usual process of a further saturation had set in. Nor amidst the +din of voices was there a discordant note. Even the cursings of the +losers at the roulette board were drowned in the raucous din of +laughter and loud-voiced talk around the bar.</p> + +<p>As time went on Beasley saw that his moment was rapidly approaching. +The shining, half-glazed eyes, the sudden outbursts of wild whoopings, +told him the tale he liked to hear. And he promptly changed his own +attitude of bonhomie, and began to remind those who cared to listen of +the fun they had all missed through Curly’s interference. This was +done at the same time as he took to pouring out the drinks himself in +smaller quantities, and became careless in the matter of making +accurate change for the bigger bills of his customers.</p> + +<p>Beasley’s hints were not long in bearing the fruit he desired. Some +one recollected the women who had been participants in their earlier +frolic, and instantly there was a clamor for their presence.</p> + +<p>Beasley grinned. He was feeling almost joyous.</p> + +<p>The women readily answered the summons. They came garbed in long, +flowing, tawdry wrappers, the hallmark of the lives they lived. Nor +was it more than seconds before they were caught in the whirl of the +orgie in progress.</p> + +<p>The sight was beyond all description in its revolting and hideous +pathos. These blind, besotted men hovered about these wrecks of +womanhood much in the manner of hungry animals. They plied them with +drink, and sought to win their favors by ribald jesting and talk as +obscene as their condition of drunkenness would permit them, while the +women accepted their attentions in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>spirit in which they were +offered, calculating, watching, with an eye trained to the highest +pitch of mercenary motive, for the direction whence the greatest +benefit was to come.</p> + +<p>Beasley was watching too. He knew that the Padre’s threat had been no +idle one, but he meant to forestall its operation. The Padre was away +to his home by now. Nothing that he could do could operate until the +morning, when these men were sober. He had got this night, at least, +in which to satisfy his evil whim.</p> + +<p>His opportunity came sooner than he expected. One of the girls, quite +a young creature, whose originally-pretty face was now distorted and +bloated by the life she lived, suddenly appealed to him. She jumped up +from the bench on which she had been sitting listening to the drunken +attentions of a stranger who bored her, and challenged the +saloon-keeper with a laugh and an ingratiating wink.</p> + +<p>“Say, you gray-headed old beer-slinger,” she cried, “how about that +‘party’ call you’d fixed up for us? Ain’t ther’ nuthin’ doin’ since +that mutt with the thin yeller thatch got busy shootin’? Say, he got +you all scared to a pea shuck.”</p> + +<p>She laughed immoderately, and, swaying drunkenly, was caught by the +attentive stranger.</p> + +<p>“Quit it, Mamie,” protested one of the other girls. “If you want +another racket I don’t. You’re always raisin’ hell.”</p> + +<p>“Quit yourself,” shrieked Mamie in sudden anger. “I ain’t scared of a +racket.” She turned to Beasley, who was pouring out a round of drinks +for Abe Allinson, now so drunk that he had to support himself against +the counter. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>“Say, you don’t need to be scared, that feller’s out o’ +the way now,” she jeered. “Wot say? Guess it would be a ‘scream.’”</p> + +<p>Beasley handed the change of a twenty-dollar bill to Abe and turned to +the girl.</p> + +<p>“Sure it would,” he agreed promptly, his face beaming. Then he added +cunningly: “But it’s you folks are plumb scared.”</p> + +<p>“Who the h—— scared of a gal like that?” Mamie yelled at him, her +eyes blazing. “I ain’t. Are you, Lulu? You, Kit?” She turned to the +other women, but ignored the protesting Sadie.</p> + +<p>Lulu sprang from the arms of a man on whose shoulder she had been +reclining.</p> + +<p>“Scared?” she cried. “Come right on. I’m game. Beasley’s keen to give +her a twistin’—well, guess it’s always up to us to oblige.” And she +laughed immoderately.</p> + +<p>Kit joined in. She cared nothing so long as she was with the majority. +And it was Beasley himself who finally challenged the recalcitrant +Sadie.</p> + +<p>“Guess you ain’t on, though,” he said, and there was something like a +threat in his tone.</p> + +<p>Sadie shrugged.</p> + +<p>“It don’t matter. If the others——”</p> + +<p>“Bully for you, Sadie!” cried Mamie impulsively. “Come right on! Who’s +comin’ to get the ‘scream’?” she demanded of the men about her, while +Beasley nodded his approval from his stand behind the bar.</p> + +<p>But somehow her general invitation was not received with the same +enthusiasm the occasion had met with earlier in the evening. The +memory of the Kid still <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>hovered over some of the muddled brains, and +only a few of those who were in the furthest stages of drunkenness +responded.</p> + +<p>Nothing daunted, however, the girl Mamie, furiously anxious to stand +well with the saloon-keeper, laughed over at him.</p> + +<p>“We’ll give her a joyous time,” she shrieked. “Say, what’s her name? +Joan Rest, the Golden Woman! She’ll need the rest when we’re through. +Come on, gals. We’ll dance a cancan on her parlor table. Come on.”</p> + +<p>She made a move and the others prepared to follow. Several of the men, +laughing recklessly, were ready enough to go whither they led. Already +Mamie was within a pace of the closed door when a man suddenly pushed +Abe Allinson roughly aside, leant his right elbow on the counter, and +stood with his face half-turned toward the crowd. It was Buck. His +movements had been so swift, so well calculated, that Beasley found +himself looking into the muzzle of the man’s heavy revolver before he +could attempt to defend himself.</p> + +<p>“Hold on!”</p> + +<p>Buck’s voice rang out above the din of the barroom. Instantly he had +the attention of the whole company. The girls stood, staring back at +him stupidly, and the men saw the gun leveled at the saloon-keeper’s +head. They saw more. They saw that Buck held another gun in his left +hand, which was threatening the entire room. Most of them knew him. +Some of them didn’t. But one and all understood the threat and waited +motionless. Nor did they have to wait long.</p> + +<p>“Gals,” said Buck sternly, “this racket’s played out. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>Ther’s been +shootin’ to-night over the same thing. Wal, ther’s going to be more +shootin’ if it don’t quit right here. If you leave this shanty to go +across to the farm to molest the folks there, Beasley, here, is a dead +man before you get a yard from the door.”</p> + +<p>Then his glance shifted so that the saloon-keeper came into his focus, +while yet he held a perfect survey of the rest of the men.</p> + +<p>“Do you get me, Beasley?” he went on coldly. “You’re a dead man if +those gals go. An’ if you send them to the farm after this—ever—I’ll +shoot you on sight. Wal?”</p> + +<p>Beasley knew when he was beaten. He had reckoned only on the Padre. He +had forgotten Buck. However, he wouldn’t forget him in the future.</p> + +<p>“You can put up your gun, Buck,” he said, with an assumption of +geniality that deceived no one, and Buck least of all. “Quit your +racket, gals,” he went on. Then he added with the sarcasm he generally +fell back on in such emergencies: “Guess this gentleman feels the same +as Curly—only he ain’t as—hasty.”</p> + +<p>The girls went slowly back to their seats, and Buck, lowering his +guns, quietly restored them both to their holsters.</p> + +<p>Beasley watched him, and as he saw them disappear his whole manner +changed.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mister Buck,” he said, with a snarl, “I don’t guess I need +either your dollars or your company on my premises. You’ll oblige +me—that door ain’t locked.” And he pointed at it deliberately for the +man to take his departure.</p> + +<p>But Buck only laughed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>“Don’t worry, Beasley,” he said. “I’m here—till you close up for the +night.”</p> + +<p>And the enraged saloon-keeper had a vision of a smile at his expense +which promptly lit the faces of the entire company.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>WHEN LIFE HOLDS NO SHADOWS</h3> + +<p>The mellow evening light glows with a living warmth of color upon +hill, and valley, and plain. The myriad tints shine in perfect +harmony, for Nature is incapable of discord whether in her reign of +beauty or her moments of terror. Discord belongs to the imperfect +human eye, the human brain, the human heart. Thus must the most +perfect human creation be ever imperfect.</p> + +<p>But Nature’s perfections are never lost upon the human mind. They are +not intended to be lost. They serve well their purpose of elevating, +of uplifting all thought, and affording inspiration for all that which +is good and beautiful in hearts thrilling with emotions which need +strong support to save them from their own weaknesses.</p> + +<p>Something of this influence was at work in the hearts of a man and a +girl riding over the hard sand trail in the pleasant evening light. +The man’s youthful heart was thrilling with a hope he dared not +attempt to define, and could not if he would. His every feeling was +inspired by a joy he had no proper understanding of. The glance of his +dark eyes bespoke his mood, and his buoyancy seemed to communicate +itself to the great horse under him. All he knew was that the glory of +the day was all about him, and, beside him, Joan was riding the +Padre’s sturdy horse.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p><p>The girl at his side was no less uplifted. At the moment shadows +troubled her not at all. They were gone, merged into soft, hazy gauzes +through which peeped the scenes of life as she desired life to be, and +every picture was rose-tinted with the wonderful light of an evening +sun.</p> + +<p>Her fair young face was radiant; a wonderful happiness shone in the +violet depths of her eyes. Her sweet lips were parted, displaying her +even, white teeth, and her whole expression was much that of a child +who, for the first time, opens its eyes to the real joy of living. +Every now and again she drew a deep, long sigh of content and +enjoyment.</p> + +<p>For a while they rode in silence, their bodies swaying easily to the +rhythmic gait of the horses. Their direction lay toward the sun, that +direction which ever makes for hope. Ahead of them, and behind them, +lay the forest of tall, garbless trunks, their foliage-crowned, +disheveled heads nodding in the light breezes from the hilltops, which +left the lower atmosphere undisturbed. The scented air, pungent with +pleasant odors, swept them by as their horses loped easily along. It +was a moment of perfect peace, a moment when life could hold no +shadows.</p> + +<p>But such feelings are only for the silent moments of perfect +companionship. The spoken word, which indexes thought, robs them of +half their charm and beauty. The girl felt something of this as the +calm voice of her companion broke the wonderful spell.</p> + +<p>“That feller’s shaping well,” he said, his thoughts for the moment +evidently upon the practical side of her comfort.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p><p>The girl nodded. That look of rapturous joy had left her, and she too +became practical.</p> + +<p>“I think so—when Mrs. Ransford leaves him alone,” she said, with a +little laugh. “She declares it is always necessary to harass a ‘hired’ +man from daylight to dark. If I were he I’d get out into the pastures, +or hay sloughs, or forest, or somewhere, and stay there till she’d +gone to bed. Really, Buck, she’s a terrible woman.”</p> + +<p>In the growing weeks of companionship Joan had learned to use this +man’s name as familiarly as though she had known him all her life. It +would have seemed absurd to call him anything but Buck now. Besides, +she liked doing so. The name fitted him. “Buck;” it suggested to +her—spirit, independence, courage, everything that was manly; and she +had long ago decided that he was all these things—and more.</p> + +<p>Buck laughed in his quiet fashion. He rarely laughed loudly. Joan +thought it sounded more like a deep-throated gurgle.</p> + +<p>“She sure is,” he declared heartily.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” Joan smiled. “You have crossed swords with her.”</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Not me,” he said. “She did the battlin’. Guess I sat tight. You see, +words ain’t as easy to a man, as to—some women.”</p> + +<p>Joan enjoyed the tact of his remark. She leant forward and smoothed +the silky neck of the Padre’s horse, and Buck’s admiring eyes took in +the perfect lines of her well-cut habit. He had never seen anything +like it before, and failed to understand the excellence of its +tailoring, but he knew that everything about this girl was wonderfully +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>beautiful, and he would have liked to have been able to tell her so.</p> + +<p>As he watched her he could not help thinking of the moment when he had +held her in his arms. It was a thought almost always with him, a +thought which never failed to stir his pulses and set them racing.</p> + +<p>“But you see I can’t do without her,” the girl went on as she sat up +in her saddle again. “She’s a good worker, herself. She’s taught me a +good deal already. Oh, yes,” she smiled at his look of incredulity, +“I’ve begun my lessons. I am learning all I can, preparing for the +bigger lessons of this—this”—she gave a comprehensive glance at the +hills—“wonderful world.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded. But he rode on in silence, his face for the moment +clouded with deep thought. He was thinking of that night in Beasley’s +store. He was thinking of what might have happened there if those +women had carried out their purpose. He was wondering what the lessons +might be that this girl might yet find herself confronted with. The +matter troubled him. And Joan’s surreptitious glance into his face +warned her that the cloud had obscured his sun.</p> + +<p>The man finally broke the silence.</p> + +<p>“Have you got any menfolk?” he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>Joan turned quickly.</p> + +<p>“No—why?”</p> + +<p>“An uncle—a brother. Maybe a—father?”</p> + +<p>There was something almost anxious in Buck’s manner as he enumerated +the possible relationships.</p> + +<p>But the girl shook her head at each one, and he went on in a tone of +disappointment.</p> + +<p>“It’s kind of a pity,” he observed. Then, in answer to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>the girl’s +quick look of inquiry, he added evasively: “You see it’s lonesome for +a gal—out in these hills.”</p> + +<p>Joan knew that that was not the reason of his inquiry, and she smiled +quietly at her horse’s ears.</p> + +<p>“Why did you want to know if I had—menfolk?” she asked. “I mean the +real reason.” She looked up frankly smiling, and compelled his +attention.</p> + +<p>Buck was not easy to corner, even though he had no experience of +women. Again Joan heard his strange gurgle, and her smile broadened.</p> + +<p>“You could sure learn your lessons easier with your menfolk around to +help you,” he said.</p> + +<p>For a second the girl’s face dropped. Then she laughed good-humoredly.</p> + +<p>“You’re smart, Buck,” she exclaimed. “But—but you’re most +exasperating. Still, I’ll tell you. The only relative I have in the +world, that I know of, is—Aunt Mercy.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! she’s a woman.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, a woman.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a pity.” Suddenly Buck pointed ahead at a great mass of towering +rock above the trees. “There’s Devil’s Hill!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Joan looked up, all eager delight to behold this wonderful hill Buck +had brought her out to see. She expected something unusual, for +already she had listened to several accounts of this place and the +gold “strike” she was supposed to have brought about. Nor was she +disappointed now, at least at first. She stared with wondering eyes at +the weird, black giant raising its ugly head in a frowning threat +above them, and gave a gasp of surprise.</p> + +<p>Then in a moment her surprise died out, and into her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>eyes crept a +strange look of repulsion and even fear. She had no words to offer. +She made no move. It was almost as if she sat fascinated like some +harmless bird held by the hypnotic stare of a python. So long did she +remain silent that Buck at last turned and looked into her face. And +something like alarm caught and held him when he beheld her gray look +of horror as she faced the gloomy crags mounting up before them.</p> + +<p>He too looked out ahead. But his imagination failed him, and his eyes +came back to her. The change in her happy, smiling eyes was +incredible. Her smile had gone utterly—the bright color of her +cheeks. There was no awe in her look, neither curiosity nor +admiration. To him it almost seemed that her whole body was thrilled +with an utter repugnance and loathing at what she beheld.</p> + +<p>“It’s—ugly,” he hazarded at last.</p> + +<p>“It’s—it’s dreadful.” The girl’s reply came in a tone there was no +mistaking. It was one of concentrated detestation.</p> + +<p>“You don’t—like it?” Buck felt helpless.</p> + +<p>But Joan’s next words left him without any doubt.</p> + +<p>“I—I think I—hate it,” she said harshly.</p> + +<p>Buck drew rein on the instant.</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll get back to home.”</p> + +<p>But Joan had no such intention.</p> + +<p>“No—no!” she exclaimed quickly. “We’ll go on. I want to see it. I—I +<i>must</i> see it.”</p> + +<p>Her manner had suddenly become agitated, and Buck was left wondering +the more. She was stirred with strange feelings which embodied a dozen +different emotions, and it was the sight of that great black crown, +like the head of a Gorgon, which had inspired them. Its fascination +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>was one of cruel attraction. Its familiarity suggested association +with some part of her life. It seemed as if she belonged to it, or +that it belonged to her—that in some curious way it was actually a +part of her life. And all the time her detestation, her fear surged +through her heart and left her revolting. But she knew she must go on. +Its fascination claimed her and drew her, calling to her with a +summons she dared not disobey—had no real desire to disobey.</p> + +<p>It was she who took the lead now. She pressed on at a rapid gallop. +Her fair young face was set and cold. She remained silent, and her +manner forbade the man’s interruption.</p> + +<p>But Buck kept pace with her, and a great sympathy held him silent too. +He had no real understanding of her mood, only he knew that, for the +moment, his presence had no place in her thought.</p> + +<p>So they drew toward the shadow of the hill. Each was lost in disturbed +reflections. Joan was waiting, expectant of she knew not what, and the +man, filled with puzzlement, knew that the solution lay only with the +girl beside him.</p> + +<p>It had been his thought to point out the things which his practiced +mind suggested as of interest, but now, as he beheld the rapt +expression of her face, it all became different. Therefore he checked +the eager Cæsar and let her lead the way.</p> + +<p>Joan had no observation for anything as she rode on right up to the +very shadow of the suspended lake. Then, almost mechanically, as +though urged by some unseen hand, she drew up sharply. She was no +longer looking at the hill, she sat in her saddle limply, and stared +vacantly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>at the rough workings of the miners which had been abandoned +for the day.</p> + +<p>Still Buck waited in silence.</p> + +<p>At last he had his reward. The girl made a movement almost like a +shiver. Then she sat up erect. The color came back to her cheeks and +she turned to him with eyes in which a ghost of a smile flitted.</p> + +<p>“I—I had forgotten,” she said half-apologetically. “This is what has +brought prosperity to the camp. This is what has saved them from +starvation. We—we should owe it gratitude.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t guess the rocks need gratitude,” replied Buck quietly.</p> + +<p>“No!”</p> + +<p>Joan looked up at the black roof above her and shivered.</p> + +<p>“It’s a weird place, where one might well expect weird happenings.”</p> + +<p>Buck smiled. He was beginning to obtain some insight into the girl’s +mood. So used was he to the gloomy hill that its effect was quite lost +on him. Now he knew that some superstitious chord had been struck in +the girl’s feelings, and this strange hill had been the medium of its +expression.</p> + +<p>He suddenly leant forward. Resting on the horn of his saddle he looked +into the fair face he so loved. He had seen that haunted look in her +face before. He remembered his first meeting with her at the barn. Its +termination had troubled him then. It had troubled him since. He +remembered the incident when the gold had been presented to her. Again +he had witnessed that hunted, terrified look, that strange +overpowering of some painful thought—or memory.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><p>Now he felt that she needed support, and strove with all his power to +afford it her.</p> + +<p>“Guess ther’s nothing weird outside the mind of man,” he said. +“Anyway, nothing that needs to scare folk.” He turned and surveyed the +hill and the wonderful green country surrounding them. “Get a look +around,” he went on, with a comprehensive gesture. “This rock—it’s +just rock, natural rock; it’s rock you’ll find most anywhere. It’s got +dumped down right here wher’ most things are green, an’ dandy, an’ +beautiful to the eye; so it looks queer, an’ sets your thoughts +gropin’ among the cobwebs of mystery. Ther’s sure no life to it but +the life of rock. This great overhang has just been cut by washouts of +centuries in spring, when the creek’s in flood, an’ it just happens +ther’s a hot sulphur lake on top, fed by a spring. I’ve known it these +years an’ years. Guess it’s sure always been the same. It ain’t got +enough to it to scare a jack-rabbit.”</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head. But the man was glad to see the return of her +natural expression, and that her smiling eyes were filled with a +growing interest He knew that her strange mood was passing.</p> + +<p>He went on at once in his most deliberate fashion.</p> + +<p>“You needn’t to shake your head,” he said, with a smile of confidence. +“It’s jest the same with everything. It sure is. We make life what it +is for ourselves. It’s the same for everybody, an’ each feller gets +busy makin’ it different. The feller that gets chasin’ trouble don’t +need to run. He only needs to set around and shout. Guess it’ll come +along if he’s yearnin’ for it. But it don’t come on its own. That’s +sure as sure. Keep brain an’ body busy doin’ the things that lie +handy, an’ when <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>you got to make good among the rocks of life, why, I +sure guess you won’t find a rock half big enough to stop you.”</p> + +<p>Watching the deep glowing eyes of the man Joan felt that his +confidence was not merely the confidence of brave words. A single +glance into his purposeful face left the definite impression that his +was a strength that is given to few. It was the strength of a simple, +honest mind as yet unfouled by the grosser evils of an effete +civilization. His was the force and courage of the wild—the impulse +which governs all creatures who live in the midst of Nature’s +battle-grounds.</p> + +<p>“That’s—that’s because you’re so strong you feel that way,” she said, +making no attempt to disguise the admiration she felt. “The burden of +life does not always fall so easily. There are things, too, in spite +of what you say, that we cannot control—evils, I mean evils which +afflict us.”</p> + +<p>Buck glanced away down the creek. Then his eyes came back to her, and +a new resolve lay behind them.</p> + +<p>“I’m no stronger than others,” he said. “Guess I haven’t ha’f the +strength of some. I’d say——” he paused. Then he went on, his eyes +gazing fearlessly into hers: “I’d say I haven’t ha’f the strength of a +gal who gives up the city—a young gal jest beginning a woman’s life +with ’most everything in her favor—an’ comes right out here to farm +without a livin’ soul to pass her a hand. I ain’t got ha’f the courage +of a gal who does that jest because she’s chased by thoughts that +worry her an’ make her days no better than to set her—hatin’ them. +Strength? Say, when you ken laff an’ all the time feel that life ain’t +ha’f so pleasant as death, why, I’d sure say ther’ ain’t no greater +strength this side of the check-taker’s box.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p><p>Joan could hardly believe her ears as she listened. Astonishment, +resentment, helplessness, incredulity, all struggled for place. How +had this man discovered her secret? How? How? What did he know +besides? For a moment her feelings robbed her of speech and betrayed +themselves in her expressive face.</p> + +<p>But the man’s smile, so easy, so disarming, held her. He saw and +understood, and he hastened to reassure her.</p> + +<p>“Guess I ain’t pryin’,” he said bluntly. “These things just come along +to my tongue, feeling you were troubled at this—hill. You’ve told me +a heap since you come to the farm. You told me things which I don’t +guess you wer’ yearnin’ to tell any one. But you didn’t tell ’em with +your tongue. An’ I don’t guess you need to. Set your mind easy. You’re +scared to death of some trouble which ain’t of your seekin’—wal, I +don’t believe in such trouble.”</p> + +<p>Then he laughed in so unconcerned, so buoyant and whole-hearted a +fashion that Joan’s confidence and hope leapt again.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he added, as he saw the brightening of her face, “when you +fancy that trouble’s gettin’ around, when you fancy it’s good an’ big, +an’ a whole heap to carry, why, you can pass it right on to me. I’m +yearnin’ to get busy with jest sech a proposition.”</p> + +<p>Buck’s manner was irresistible. Joan felt herself swept along by it. +She longed there and then to tell him the whole of her miserable +little story. Yes, he made it seem so small to her now. He made it, at +the moment, seem like nothing. It was almost as though he had +literally lifted her burden and was bearing the lion’s share of it +himself. Her heart thrilled with gratitude, with joy in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>this man’s +wonderful comradeship. She longed to open her heart to him—to implore +him to shield her from all those terrible anxieties which beset her. +She longed to feel the clasp of his strong hand in hers and know that +it was there to support her always. She felt all these things without +one shadow of fear—somehow his very presence dispelled her shadows.</p> + +<p>But only did she permit her warm smile to convey something of all she +felt as she rejected his offer.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know what you are asking,” she said gently. Then she shook +her head. “It is impossible. No one can shift the burdens of life on +to the shoulders of another—however willing they be. No one has the +right to attempt it. As we are born, so we must live. The life that is +ours is ours alone.”</p> + +<p>Buck caught at her words with a sudden outburst of passionate +remonstrance.</p> + +<p>“You’re wrong—dead wrong,” he declared vehemently, his eyes glowing +with the depth of feeling stirring him, a hot flush forcing its way +through the deep tanning of his cheeks. “No gal has a right to carry +trouble with a man around to help. She’s made for the sunlight, for +the warmth an’ ease of life. She’s made to set around an’ take in all +those good things the good God meant for her so she can pass ’em right +on to the kiddies still to be born. A woman’s jest the mother of the +world. An’ the men she sets on it are there to see her right. The +woman who don’t see it that way is wrong—dead wrong. An’ the man that +don’t get right up on to his hind legs an’ do those things—wal, he +ain’t a man.”</p> + +<p>It was a moment Joan would never forget. As long as she lived that +eager face, with eyes alight, the rapid <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>tongue pouring out the +sentiments of his simple heart must ever remain with her. It was a +picture of virile manhood such as in her earliest youth she had +dreamed of, a dream which had grown dimmer and dimmer as she +progressed toward womanhood and learned the ways of the life that had +been hers. Here it was in all reality, in all its pristine simplicity, +but—she gathered up her reins and moved her horse round, heading him +toward home.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad I came out here—in the wilderness,” she said earnestly. +“I’m glad, too, that I came to see this great black hill. Yes, and I’m +glad to think that I have begun the lessons which this great big world +is going to teach me. For the rest—we’d better go home. Look! The +daylight is going.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>A STUDY IN MISCHIEF</h3> + +<p>Nearly three months had passed and all Beasley Melford’s affairs were +amply prospering. His new saloon was the joy of his heart. It had been +completed more than a week, which week had been something in the +nature of a triumph of financial success. The camp was booming as he +had never dared to hope it would boom. Traders were opening up +business all round him, and the output of gold was increasing every +day. But, with all this rapid development, with all the wrangling and +competition going on about him, he was the centre of the commercial +interests of Yellow Creek, and his saloon was the centre of all its +traffic.</p> + +<p>But he was quite alive to the fact that he must maintain his position +and custom by keeping well in line, even just a little ahead of all +competition. He knew that to rest on his oars would be to court swift +disaster. It must be his constant thought to make his place more and +more attractive, to listen to the voice of public requirements, and +seize every opportunity of catering for them.</p> + +<p>His saloon was no better than a gambling-hell and drinking-booth, the +dry goods side of his enterprise being almost insignificant. For he +knew that the more surely his customers could indulge in such pastimes +in comparative comfort the more surely he would keep them. So he made +these things the basis of his trade. But there <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>were other needs to be +provided for. Therefore, on the completion of his new saloon, and the +moment his vanity had been satisfied by the erection of a great board +top, set up on the pitch of the roof, announcing in blatant lettering +that it was “Melford’s Hotel,” he set to work to erect a dance hall +and a livery barn. He foresaw the necessity of running a stage, and he +never lost sight of the fact that a great number of the women of the +class he wished to see about were invading the place. Then, too, the +dance hall could be used as a boarding establishment for those who had +no homes of their own.</p> + +<p>It was a precious thought, and, after a journey to Leeson Butte to +consult his partner, these matters were put in hand. He no longer +worked single-handed. His establishment was increased by the advent of +a bartender, a Chinese cook, and a livery stable keeper. These, and +some casual labor from among the loafers, supplied him with all the +help he so far found necessary.</p> + +<p>The bar and the gambling-tables were always his own care. These were +the things he would never trust to other hands. The bartender was his +helper only, who was never allowed to escape the observation of his +lynx eyes.</p> + +<p>Yes, Beasley Melford was flourishing as he intended to flourish, and +his satisfaction was enormous. In the mornings he was always busy +supervising the work, in the afternoons he gave himself what leisure +his restless spirit demanded. But in the evenings he gathered his +harvest by rascally methods of flagrant extortion.</p> + +<p>It was during the latter part of his afternoon leisure that he was +suddenly disturbed by the appearance of Montana Ike in his bar. He was +stretched full length upon his counter, comfortably reviewing a +perfect maze <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>of mental calculations upon the many schemes which he +had in hand, when the youngster pushed the swing door open and +blustered in.</p> + +<p>Beasley was sitting up in an instant. He hated this sort of sudden +disturbance. He hated men who rushed at him. He could never be certain +of their intentions. When he saw who his visitor was there was very +little friendliness in his greeting.</p> + +<p>“Wot in hell you want rushin’ that way?” he demanded arrogantly. +“Guess your thirst ain’t on a time limit.”</p> + +<p>But the ginger-headed youth ignored his ill-temper. He was too full of +his own affairs. He simply grinned.</p> + +<p>“Fish out them durned scales o’ yours,” he cried gleefully. “Fish ’em +out, an’ set your big weights on ’em. Ther’ ain’t goin’ to be no chat +nor drink till you weighed in. Then I guess the drink’ll be right up +to you.”</p> + +<p>Beasley’s mood changed like lightning. He swung over behind his bar +and dropped to the floor on the other side, his eyes alight, and every +faculty alert for trade.</p> + +<p>“Wot’s it?” he demanded. “Struck it big?” he went on as the dingy gold +scales were produced from the shelf at the back. Then he laughed +amiably. “It needs to be big, wakin’ me in my slack time.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s big enuff,” cried Ike confidently, his eager, young, animal +face alight with pleasure.</p> + +<p>He watched the other with impatient eyes as he deliberately picked out +the weights. But Beasley was too slow, and, with an impatient +exclamation, he snatched up the biggest of them and set it on the +somewhat delicate scales with a heavy hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p><p>“Say, you’re rapid as a sick funeral,” he cried. “I ain’t got no time +to waste. What I got here’ll need that—an’ more. Ther’!”</p> + +<p>Beasley’s temper was never easy, and his narrow eyes began to sparkle.</p> + +<p>“You’re mighty fresh,” he cried. “Guess I’m——”</p> + +<p>But his remark remained unfinished. With a boisterous laugh the boy +flung a small canvas bag on the counter and emptied its contents +before the other’s astonished eyes.</p> + +<p>“Ther’,” he cried gleefully. “I want dollars an’ dollars from you. An’ +you’ll sure see they ain’t duds.”</p> + +<p>Beasley’s eyes opened wide. In a moment he had forgotten his +ill-humor.</p> + +<p>From the gold spread out before him he looked up into the other’s face +with a half-suspicious, wholly incredulous stare.</p> + +<p>“You got that from your claim—to-day?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“An’ wher’ in hell else?”</p> + +<p>“Sure!” Beasley fingered the precious nuggets lovingly. “Gee! Ther’s +nigh five hundred dollars there.”</p> + +<p>“Fi’ hundred—an’ more,” cried Ike anxiously.</p> + +<p>But Beasley’s astonishment was quickly hidden under his commercial +instincts. He would have called them “commercial.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll soon fix that,” he said, setting the scales.</p> + +<p>Ike leant against the bar watching the man finger his precious ore as +he placed each of the six nuggets in the scale and weighed them +separately. He took the result down on paper and worked their separate +values out at his own market prices. In five minutes the work was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>completed, and the man behind the bar looked up with a grin.</p> + +<p>“I don’t gener’ly make a bad guess,” he said blandly. “But I reckoned +’em a bit high this journey. Ther’s four hundred an’ seventy-six +dollars comin’ to you—ha’f cash an’ ha’f credit. Is it a deal?”</p> + +<p>The other’s face flamed up. A volcanic heat set him almost shouting.</p> + +<p>“To hell!” he cried fiercely. “Ther’s fi’ hundred dollars ther’ if +ther’s a cent. An’ I want it all cash.”</p> + +<p>Beasley shook his head. He had this boy’s exact measure, and knew just +how to handle him.</p> + +<p>“The scales don’t lie,” he said. “But ther’, it’s the way wi’ youse +fellers. You see a chunk o’ gold an’ you don’t see the quartz stickin’ +around it. Here, I’ll put a hundred an’ seventy-six credit an’ the +rest cash. I can’t speak fairer.”</p> + +<p>He drew a roll of bills from his hip-pocket and began counting the +three hundred out. He knew the sight of them was the best argument he +could use. It never failed. Nor did it do so now.</p> + +<p>Ike grumbled and protested in the foulest language he was capable of, +but he grabbed the dollars when they were handed to him, and stowed +them into his hip-pocket with an eagerness which suggested that he +feared the other might repent of his bargain. And Beasley quickly +swept the precious nuggets away and securely locked them in his safe, +with the certain knowledge that his profit on the deal was more than +cent for cent.</p> + +<p>“You’ll take rye,” he said as he returned his keys to his pocket. “An’ +seein’ it’s your good day, an’ it’s on me, we’ll have it out o’ this +thirteen-year-old bottle.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p><p>He pushed the bottle across the counter and watched Ike pour himself +out a full “four fingers.” The sight of his gluttony made Beasley feel +glad that the thirteen-year-old bottle had been replenished that +morning from the common “rot-gut” cask. After their drink he became +expansive.</p> + +<p>“That’s an elegant claim of yours, Ike,” he said, taking up his +favorite position on the bar. “It’s chock full of alluvial. Don’t +scarcely need washing. Guess I must ha’ paid you two thousand dollars +an’ more since—since we got busy. Your luck was mighty busy when they +cast the lots.”</p> + +<p>“Luck? Guess I’m the luckiest hoboe in this layout,” Ike cried with a +confidence that never seemed to require the support of rye whisky.</p> + +<p>Beasley’s eyes sparkled maliciously.</p> + +<p>“How about Pete?” he grinned. He knew that Ike had an utter +detestation of Pete, and did not have to guess at the reason. “I paid +him more than that by fi’ hundred. How’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Tcha’! Pete ain’t no account anyways,” Ike retorted angrily. “Say, he +pitches his dollars to glory at poker ’most every night. Pete ain’t +got no sort o’ savee. You don’t see me bustin’ my wad that way.”</p> + +<p>“How about the gals? Guess you hand ’em a tidy pile.”</p> + +<p>“Gals!” Ike suddenly became thoughtful. His gaze wandered toward the +window. Then he abruptly turned back to the bar and clamored for +another drink. “We’ll have that thirteen-year-old,” he cried. “An’ +guess I’ll have a double dose. Gals!” he went on, with a sneer, as the +other watched him fill a brimming tumbler.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p><p>“Ther’s sure on’y one gal around here. That’s why I got around now. +Guess I’m payin’ her a ‘party’ call right now, ’fore the folks get +around. Say, I’m goin’ to marry that gal. She’s sure a golden woman. +Golden! Gee, it sounds good!”</p> + +<p>Beasley grinned. He was on a hot trail and he warmed to his work.</p> + +<p>“Goin’ to ask her now?” he inquired amiably, eyeing the spirit the man +had poured out.</p> + +<p>Ike laughed self-consciously.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he said, draining his glass.</p> + +<p>“What about Pete?”</p> + +<p>Ike looked sharply into the other’s grinning face. Then he banged his +glass angrily on the counter and moved toward the door.</p> + +<p>“Pete ken go plumb to hell!” he cried furiously over his shoulder as +he passed out.</p> + +<p>Beasley dropped nimbly from his counter and looked after him through +the window. He saw him vault into the saddle and race away down the +trail in the direction of the farm.</p> + +<p>His eyes were smiling wickedly.</p> + +<p>“Don’t guess Pete’s chasin’ ther’ to suit you, Master Ike,” he +muttered. “Marry that gal, eh? Not on your life. You pore silly guys! +You’re beat before you start—beat a mile. Buck’s got you smashed to a +pulp. Kind of wish I’d given you less cash and more credit. Hello!”</p> + +<p>He swung round as the door was again thrust open. This time it was +Blue Grass Pete who strode into the room.</p> + +<p>“Wher’s Ike?” he demanded without preamble the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>moment he beheld the +grinning face of the saloon-keeper.</p> + +<p>“Gee!” Beasley’s grin suddenly broke out into a loud laugh. He brought +his two hands down on the counter and gave himself up to the joy of +the moment.</p> + +<p>Pete watched him with growing unfriendliness.</p> + +<p>“You’re rattled some,” he said at last, with elaborate sarcasm. Then, +as Beasley stood up choking with laughter and rubbing his eyes, he +went on: “Seems to me I asked you a civil question.”</p> + +<p>Beasley nodded, and guffawed again.</p> + +<p>“You sure did,” he said at last, stifling his mirth as he beheld the +other’s threatening frown. “Well, I ain’t laffin’ at you. It’s—it’s +jest at things.”</p> + +<p>But Pete had no sense of humor. He disliked Beasley, and simply wanted +his information now.</p> + +<p>“Ike been along?” he demanded doggedly.</p> + +<p>Beasley spluttered. Then he subsided into a malicious grin again.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he said. “He’s been in with a fat wad. Say, he’s a lucky +swine. ’Most everything comes his way. Guess he can’t never touch bad. +He’s ahead on the game, he’s a golden-haired pet with the gals, an’ he +gits gold in—lumps.”</p> + +<p>But Pete’s dark face and hungry eyes showed no appreciation, and +Beasley knew that the man’s mood was an ugly one.</p> + +<p>“Wher’s he now?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t jest say. I didn’t ask him wher’ he was goin’. Y’ see I cashed +his gold, and we had a drink. He seemed excited some. Guess he was +sort of priming himself. Maybe he’s gone along to the gals. Have a +drink?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p><p>“No—yes, give us a horn of rye.”</p> + +<p>The man behind the bar pushed the bottle across.</p> + +<p>“What you needin’ him for?” he asked with apparent unconcern.</p> + +<p>Pete snatched at his drink.</p> + +<p>“That ain’t your affair,” he retorted surlily.</p> + +<p>“Sure it ain’t. I jest asked—casual.”</p> + +<p>Pete banged his empty glass on the counter.</p> + +<p>“I’m needin’ him bad,” he cried, his eyes furiously alight. “I’m +needin’ him cos I know the racket he’s on. See? He quit his claim +early cos—cos——”</p> + +<p>“Cos he’s goin’ to pay a ‘party’ call on that Golden Woman,” cried +Beasley, appearing to have made a sudden discovery. “I got it, now. +That’s why he was in sech a hurry. That’s why he needed a good dose o’ +rye. Say, that feller means marryin’ that gal. I’ve heard tell he’s +got it all fixed with her. I’ve heard tell she’s dead sweet on him. +Wal, I ain’t sure but wot it’s natural. He’s a good looker; so is she. +An’ he’s a bright boy. Guess he’s got the grit to look after a gal +good. He’s a pretty scrapper. Another drink?”</p> + +<p>Pete refilled his glass. His fury was at bursting-point, and Beasley +reveled in the devil now looking out of his angry eyes.</p> + +<p>“He’s gone across ther’ now?” he demanded, after swallowing his second +drink. His question was ominously quiet.</p> + +<p>Beasley saw the man’s hands finger the guns at his waist. It was a +movement the sight of which gave him a wonderful satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“Seems like it,” he said. “Though course I can’t rightly say. I see +him ride off down the trail that way——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>“Here, I’ll take another drink. I’m goin’ after——”</p> + +<p>“Say, you ain’t goin’ to butt in with two folks courtin’?” cried +Beasley, blandly innocent.</p> + +<p>But Pete had no reply. He drained his third drink and, flinging the +glass down, bolted out of the bar; while Beasley turned with a +malicious chuckle, and scrupulously entered up three drinks against +the man’s name on the slate.</p> + +<p>“I’d give somethin’ to see it,” he muttered. Then he rubbed out the +entry he had made. “Guess I’ll make it six drinks. He’s too rattled to +remember.”</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later a number of men were lounging in the saloon, and +Beasley, in the leisure of administering to their wants, was relating +to them the story of the afternoon’s events. At the conclusion he +added his own comment, which was not without definite purpose.</p> + +<p>“Say, if they ain’t jest like two dogs worritin’ a bone you got me +plumb beat,” he said. Then he added with an air of outraged virtue: +“I’d like to say right here she’s jest playin’ them fellers for their +wads. Oh, she’s a keen one, her eyes is right on to business. She’ll +sure have ’em shootin’ each other right up. Seems to me a gal like +that ain’t no right in this yer city. She’s a scandal to the place. +An’ a danger. Wot we fellers needs to figure on is the liberty an’ +safety of our citizens, an’ anything calc’lated to be a danger to that +needs to git seen to.”</p> + +<p>Some of the men concurred half-heartedly. They were men who had come +into the camp with the rush, and were anxious to keep in with the +saloon-keeper. Still, even they were very little stirred by his +appeal. They cared not the least bit in the world who was shot up, or +who did the shooting, so long as they were not personally concerned +beyond the rôle of spectators.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p><p>So for once his mischief fell flat. It was too early in the day to +make the impression he needed. They were not sufficiently primed with +rye. So Beasley contented himself with insinuating the bottle toward +doubtful customers, and easing his disappointment by making all the +trade he could.</p> + +<p>But presently a diversion occurred by the advent of Buck. He rode up, +his great horse loaded down with the carcasses of three splendid deer. +He had brought them in for sale. Game was a precious thing in this +camp, where a diet of simple beef ruled.</p> + +<p>The moment he displayed his wares there was a rush to bid for them, +and Beasley, much to his chagrin, found himself forced to pay boom +prices before he could secure them for retailing. He paid ungraciously +enough. If there was one man more than another in the camp he +begrudged anything to it was Buck. Besides, it made him utterly +furious to think that he never came up against this man on any +debatable matter but what he managed to come off worst.</p> + +<p>However, his policy forced him to stifle his resentment, and he paid, +mentally adding another item to the long list of his personal +animosities to be wiped out at some future date.</p> + +<p>But Buck’s presence was an opportunity for mischief not to be +altogether missed. Nor was Beasley the man to let the moment pass +without availing himself of it. Buck’s interest in Joan was something +to be played upon at all times. Therefore he drew him aside in a +manner as portentous and ingratiating as he could make it.</p> + +<p>Buck, wondering at his drift, submitted all unwillingly.</p> + +<p>“Say,” Beasley began, the moment they were out of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>ear-shot of the +rest, “guess you ain’t bin around the farm lately—I mean this +afternoon?”</p> + +<p>Buck looked him coldly in the eye.</p> + +<p>“No—why?”</p> + +<p>Beasley returned his look in consummate irritation. He pretended to be +annoyed at his coolness. He shrugged and turned away, speaking over +his shoulder as he went.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nuthin’! Guess it might be as well if you had.”</p> + +<p>He went back to his bar, and in a moment was busy again at his trade. +Buck looked after him for one doubting second. Then he too turned away +and went out to his horse.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>THE ABILITIES OF MRS. RANSFORD</h3> + +<p>Joan was smiling happily, watching the waging of a droll little +farmyard warfare. Just now her life was running very smoothly, and the +shadows of memory were steadily receding. She had almost forgotten the +few unpleasant moments when she had first beheld the repellent +ugliness of Devil’s Hill nearly a week ago. Since then nothing had +occurred to raise fresh alarm, and memory, with that pleasant knack +inspired of perfect physical health, had gently mellowed and lost +something of its power to disturb.</p> + +<p>It was a curious scene. The farm was still, so still, in the glowing +afternoon heat. The cattle were out in the pastures filling themselves +with the succulent grass and dozing the long daylight hours away. The +“hired” man was out with the team, breaking a new patch of prairie +land in the interim between the haying and harvesting. The hogs were +gently snuffling in their pens, and a few hens and cockerels were +amiably flirting whilst scratching about amongst the barn litter in +that busy, inconsequent manner so suggestive to the human mind of +effort for the sheer delight of being busy.</p> + +<p>It was a scene such as she had often dreamed of, and something which +very nearly approached her ideal.</p> + +<p>Here, in one corner of the yard, where she stood, sun-bonneted to +shelter her face from the burning attentions <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>of the summer sun, +leaning idly against a water barrel standing at the corner of the +barn, she watched the farmyard comedy which was rapidly threatening to +disturb the general peace. A large hen with a late-hatched brood of +chicks, whose colors suggested the polygamous conditions under which +her matrimonial affairs were carried on, with feathers ruffled and +comb flaming, with head lowered and beak agape, was angrily defying an +absurd-looking pig which had scarcely passed its sucking age.</p> + +<p>They had met quite suddenly round the corner of the implement shed. +For the moment they stood disconcerted, while the agitated hen clucked +alarm at her offspring. The pig, squealing in a high treble, was +standing with snout twitching and front feet apart, a picture of +idiotic confusion. Perhaps the hen, with the superior feminine +knowledge of her age, understood something of the situation, and +appreciated the young porker’s inability. Anyway, she took the +initiative in aggression, and, vainly struggling to cover her rather +riotous brood with outspread wings, cackled furiously and prepared for +the onslaught which secretly she knew was not forthcoming.</p> + +<p>The porker’s mind seemed to be in a whirl of doubt, for he looked +vainly from side to side to find some adequate means of escape. His +sense did not carry him sufficiently far to prompt him to turn tail +and bolt for safety. He just stood there and continued his helpless +baby squealing. This was all the old hen needed to drive her to +extremities. Realizing his weakness she gave one fluttering spring, +scattering her chicks in all directions, pecked the pig’s nose +violently, turned something like a somersault as she landed on the +ground, gathered herself together, and incontinently fled, leaving +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>her brood to care for themselves. Thus the pig was left looking after +her with an expression in its silly eyes that suggested to the girl +nothing so much as an amazed wonder as to what the fuss was all about.</p> + +<p>Joan stood convulsed with laughter. The pig interested her vastly more +than the hen, and she waited the further working of its stupid mind. +But she was disappointed. Its momentary confusion had passed, and, +lowering its pink snout, it groveled on in search of offal, the +delights of which its young mind was just awakening to.</p> + +<p>She had moved away to pass on toward the house when she was startled +by the sound of a harsh laugh close behind her. She turned and found +herself staring into the grinning face of Montana Ike.</p> + +<p>She was angry and not without a qualm of apprehension. This man had +become a constant caller at the farm at all sorts of odd and +unexpected moments. And his attitude was such that she thoroughly +resented him. In his vaunting, braggadocio manner he had assumed a +sort of proprietary interest in her and her affairs.</p> + +<p>The moment she faced him, his confident attitude became more +pronounced.</p> + +<p>“Comic, ain’t it?” he suggested. Then he added, as though to assure +her of his appreciation: “Nigh as comic as a cirkis.”</p> + +<p>But all Joan’s delight in the scene was gone. Her beautiful eyes were +sparkling angrily. She made up her mind then and there to be rude to +the man. She would not have him about the place.</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” she inquired bluntly.</p> + +<p>The boy’s grin remained, but his furtive eyes opened a shade wider.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p><p>“Wot do I want? Gee! You’re feelin’ friendly.” Then he put on a manner +he intended to be facetious. “An’ me left my patch o’ pay-dirt, an’ +all, to pay a ‘party’ call. Say, Miss Golden, that ain’t sassiety ways +in this yer camp.”</p> + +<p>His attempt at pleasantry went for nothing. Joan, studying the man +closely, saw that his face was flushed, and, even at that distance, +she could smell the drink he had been imbibing. She must get rid of +him, but it was not so easy to her gentle nature. However, she took a +firm stand.</p> + +<p>“Maybe not,” she said coldly. “But when people make ‘party’ calls they +generally do it at convenient times. I’m very busy.”</p> + +<p>The man laughed in the harsh manner she disliked and rather feared.</p> + +<p>“Kind o’ seemed busy when I got around. Y’ see you was sure that busy +you didn’t hear my hoss comin’ along, you never see me git off him an’ +leave him back ther’, an’ me come along over an’ stand watchin’ you +doin’ nuthin’ fer nigh fi’ minutes. Oh, you’re sure busy!”</p> + +<p>Joan flushed. She knew she had lied, but to be told so by this man was +infuriating. She made no attempt to further disguise her feelings.</p> + +<p>“I said I was busy,” she cried deliberately. “Surely that should be +sufficient.”</p> + +<p>But the man had no intention of accepting his dismissal.</p> + +<p>“It jest depends wot a feller’s come around for,” he said, no whit +disconcerted. “Mebbe you won’t find you’re busy when you heard what I +got to say.” He <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>laughed immoderately. Beasley’s whisky was at work, +and he had no fear for the purpose in hand.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he dived a hand into his hip-pocket and drew out the bills +the saloon-keeper had paid him.</p> + +<p>“Look at them,” he cried in a voice that was high-pitched with +elation. “Ther’s dollars an’ dollars ther’, but ’tain’t nuthin’ to +wot’s to come. Say, I got another cache o’ gold waitin’ back ther’ at +my shack, but I ain’t handin’ it to Beasley,” he went on cunningly. +“Oh, no, not me! I’m a business guy, I am. I hold that up, an’ all the +rest I git from my patch, an’ I’m goin’ to cash it in Leeson Butte, at +the bank, fer a proper exchange. See? Oh, I ain’t no sucker, I ain’t. +An’ a feller needs a heap o’ dollars, treatin’ his gal right.”</p> + +<p>Joan hardly knew how to deal with such a situation. Besides, the now +obvious condition of the man alarmed her. However, he gave her no +opportunity to reply. For, delighted with his own talk, he went on +promptly—</p> + +<p>“Now I tho’t a whole heap since I got this wad. A wad like this takes +you thinkin’, that is, ef you ain’t a low-down rattle-brain like Pete, +or a psalm-smitin’ son-of-a-moose like that feller, Buck. Course they +ain’t got no sort o’ savvee, anyways, so they don’t count nuthin’. But +wi’ a feller like me things is diff’rent. Now, this is what I got +fixed. Y’ see you can’t have no sort of a time in this yer camp, but +it’s diff’rent in Leeson Butte. Guess we’ll get a buggy from the camp +an’ drive into Leeson. Ther’s dance halls ther’, an’ they run a decent +faro joint at a place I know. An’ they sell elegant rye, too. Wal, +we’ll git that buggy, an’ git fixed up reg’lar in Leeson, an’ have a +bully time, an’ git right back to here an’ run this yer farm between +us. How’s that?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p><p>“I—I don’t think I understand.”</p> + +<p>Joan’s alarm grew. This man was deliberately proposing to marry her. +Supported by the nerve his half-drunken condition inspired, his senses +were so inflamed that he took the whole matter for granted. She looked +into his sensual young face, the hard eyes, and at the loose lips that +surrounded his unclean teeth, and something like panic seized her. +However, she knew she must not show her fear.</p> + +<p>But he was waiting. And in reality her reply came without any +hesitation. She shook her head.</p> + +<p>“You’ve made a mistake,” she said decidedly but gently. “I have no +intention of marrying anybody.” Then, taking her courage in both +hands, she permitted something of her dislike and contempt to creep +into her manner. “It seems to me you take a great deal too much for +granted. You come here when you think you will, wholly uninvited, and, +from the first, you hint broadly that you regard me as—as the person +you intend to marry. That is presumption, to put it mildly, and I have +no use for people who—presume.”</p> + +<p>She moved as though to return to the house. But Ike, all his +confidence suddenly merged into a volcanic heat, reached out a hand to +detain her. His hand came into rough contact with the soft flesh of +her shoulder, and, shaking it off, she faced him with flaming eyes.</p> + +<p>“Don’t dare to do that again,” she cried, with bosom heaving. “Go, +leave this farm instantly. Remember you are trespassing here!”</p> + +<p>Her anger had outweighed all her alarm, even, perhaps, all discretion. +For the man was in no mood to accept his dismissal easily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p><p>“So that’s it, is it?” he cried with a sudden hoarseness. “Oho, my +lady! We’re putting on airs,” he sneered. “Not good enough, eh? +Presuming, am I? An’ who in blazes are you that you can’t be touched? +Seems to me a decent honest citizen’s jest as good fer you as fer any +other gal, an’ my dollars are clean. What in thunder’s amiss?” Then +his heat lessened, and his manner became more ingratiating. “See here, +Golden,” he went on persuasively, “you don’t mean that, sure! Wot’s +the matter with me? I ain’t weak-kneed, nor nuthin’. I ain’t scared o’ +no man. I’d scrap the devil ef you ast me. An’ say, just think wot we +ken do with the dollars. You’d make a real upstander in a swell house, +with folks waitin’ around on you, an’ di’monds an’ things. Say, I’m +jest bustin’ to make good like that. You can’t jest think how much +gold ther’ is in my patch—an’ you brought it along with you. You give +it to me—your luck.”</p> + +<p>There was something almost pathetic in his pleading, and for a brief +moment a shade of sympathy softened the girl.</p> + +<p>“Please don’t persist, Ike,” she said almost gently. “Still, I can +never marry you. It’s—it’s—absurd,” she added, with a touch of +impatience she could not wholly keep back.</p> + +<p>But that touch of impatience suddenly set fire again to the man’s +underlying intolerance of being thwarted.</p> + +<p>“Absurd, is it?” He laughed with a curious viciousness which once more +disturbed the girl. “Absurd fer you to marry me,” he cried harshly. +“Absurd fer you, cos I ain’t got no smarmy eddication, cos I ain’t +dressed in swaller tails an’ kids, same as city folks. Oh, I know! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>You’re a leddy—a city-raised leddy, an’ I—I’m jest a prairie hog. +That’s it. You ain’t got no use fer me. You jest come along right here +an’ laff, an’ laff at us folks. Oh, you needn’t to say you hav’n’t!” +as she raised a protesting hand. “Think I’m blind, think I’m deaf. Me! +Say, you shown it right along jest so plain ther’ wer’n’t no need to +tell it in langwidge.” He broke off for a moment as though his anger +had robbed him of further speech, and Joan watched the growing purpose +in his hot eyes. Her own face was the color of marble. She was +inwardly trembling, but she stood her ground with eyes stonily cold. +She made no attempt to speak now, or defend herself against his +accusations. She knew it would be useless. Only she longed in her mind +for the presence of Buck to protect her from the insult she felt to be +coming. Nor was she mistaken.</p> + +<p>The man’s pause gave way before the surge of his anger.</p> + +<p>“See here,” he suddenly cried, as though he had just arrived at a +decision. “I ain’t an easy man to laff at, as the folks around here +knows. Ther’ ain’t no man around here can laff at Montana Ike, an’ I +don’t guess no gal wi’ red ha’r’s goin’ to neither. See?” He glanced +swiftly round the farm. There was no one in sight. Suddenly one great +hand shot out and he seized the girl by the arm in a crushing, +powerful grasp and dragged her to him.</p> + +<p>“You guess you ken laff at me,” he cried, seizing her with both hands +and holding her in spite of her struggles. “Wal, you ken laff after +you kissed me. You ken laff, oh, yes! when I tell the folks you kissed +me. Seems to me the laff’ll mostly be with me.”</p> + +<p>He drew her toward him while she struggled violently. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>Then she +shrieked for help, but she knew the only help she could hope for was +the wholly inadequate help of her housekeeper. She shrieked Mrs. +Ransford’s name with all her power, while the man’s face came nearer. +It was quite hopeless; she knew she could not defend herself. And the +half-drunken man was laughing as though he enjoyed her terror.</p> + +<p>She felt his hot breath on her cheeks, she closed her eyes to shut out +the sight of his grinning face. He released his hold with one hand and +flung his arm about her waist. She fought with might and main, +shrieking with all the power of her lungs. She suddenly felt the +impress of his hot lips on her cheek, not once, but a dozen times. +Then of a sudden he released her with a bitter oath, as the shrieking +voice of Mrs. Ransford sounded close by, and the thwack of a heavy +broom fell upon his head and shoulders.</p> + +<p>“I’ll teach you, you miser’ble hoboe!” cried the old woman’s strident +voice as her powerful arms swung her lusty broom aloft. “I’ll teach +you, you scallawag!” Thwack fell the broom, and, releasing Joan, the +man sought to protect his head with his arms. “I’ll give you a dose +you won’t fergit, you scum o’ creation!” Thwack went the broom again. +“Wait till the folks hear tell o’ this, you miser’ble, miser’ble cur!” +Again the broom fell, and the man turned to flee. “You’d run, would +you? Git a fork, Miss Joan!” With a surprising rush the fat creature +lunged another smash at the man’s head with her favorite weapon.</p> + +<p>The blow fell short, for Ike had made good his retreat. And curiously +enough he made no attempt to disarm her, or otherwise stand his ground +once he was beyond the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>range of her blows. Perhaps he realized the +immensity of his outrage, perhaps he foresaw what might be the result +to himself when the story of his assault reached the camp. Perhaps it +was simply that he had a wholesome terror of this undoubted virago. +Anyway, he bolted for his horse and vaulted into the saddle, galloping +away as though pursued by something far more hurtful than a fat +farm-wife’s avalanche of vituperation.</p> + +<p>“Mussy on us!” cried the old woman, flinging her broom to the ground +as the man passed out of sight. “Mussy me, wot’s he done to you, my +pretty?” she cried, rushing to the girl’s side and catching her to her +great bosom. “There, there, don’t ’e cry, don’t ’e to cry for a +scallawag like that,” she said, as the girl buried her face on her +shoulder and sobbed as though her heart would break. “There, there,” +she went on, patting the girl’s shoulder, “don’t ’e demean yerself +weppin’ over a miser’ble skunk like that. Kiss yer, did he? Kiss yer! +Him! Wal, he won’t kiss nobody no more when the folks is put wise. An’ +I’ll see they gets it all. You, a ’Merican gal, kissed by a hog like +that. Here, wipe yer cheeks wi’ this overall; guess they’ll sure +fester if you don’t. Ther’, that’s better,” she went on as Joan, +choking back her sobs, presently released herself from her bear-like +embrace.</p> + +<p>“It’s my own fault,” the girl said tearfully. “I ought never to have +spoken to him at all. I——”</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Ransford gave her no chance to finish what she had to say.</p> + +<p>“Wot did I tell you?” she cried, with a power of self-righteousness. +“Wot did I tell you? You ain’t got no right to git a hob-a-nobbin’ +with sech scum. They’re all scallawags, every one of ’em. Men!—say, +these yer hills <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>is the muck-hole o’ creation, an’ the men is the +muck. I orter know. Didn’t I marry George D. Ransford, an’ didn’t I +raise twins by him, as you might say, an’ didn’t I learn thereby, an’ +therewith, as the sayin’ is, that wi’ muck around there’s jest one way +o’ cleanin’ it up an’ that’s with a broom! Come right into the house, +pretty. You’re needin’ hot milk to soothe your nerves, my pore, pore! +Come right in. Guess I’m a match fer any male muck around these hills. +Mussy on us, what’s that!”</p> + +<p>Both women started and stood staring with anxious, terrified eyes down +the trail which led to the camp. Two shots had been fired almost +simultaneously, and now, as they waited in horrified silence, two more +shots rang out, echoing against the hills in the still air with +ominous threat. After that all was quiet again.</p> + +<p>Presently the strained look in the farm-wife’s face relaxed, and she +turned to her charge.</p> + +<p>“That’s him,” she cried, with a swift return to her angry, +contemptuous manner. “It’s him showin’ off—like all them scallawags. +Come right in, missie,” she added, holding out her hands to lead the +girl home.</p> + +<p>But her kindly intention received an unexpected shock. Joan brushed +her roughly aside, and her look was almost of one suddenly demented.</p> + +<p>“No, no,” she cried in a voice of hysterical passion. “You don’t +understand. You can’t understand. Those shots—oh! It is my fate—my +curse. I must go!”</p> + +<p>And she fled down the trail in the direction whence the sound had +proceeded—fled, leaving Mrs. Ransford staring stupidly after her, a +prey to utter bewilderment.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>THE MEETING ON THE TRAIL</h3> + +<p>The quiet was profound. All the world seemed so still. There was no +sign of life, yet the warm air was thrilling with the unseen life of +an insect world. The heat haze rose from the soft, deep surface sand +of the trail, and the grass-lined edges looked parched beneath the +glare of the summer sun. There was no breath from the mountains down +here, where the forest trees crowded in on either side, forming a +great screen against the cooling breezes, and holding the heat like +the sides of an oven.</p> + +<p>A startled bird fluttered amongst the branches of a tree with that +restless movement which so surely indicates the alarm of some subtle +sense which no other creature possesses in so keen a degree. An +answering rustle came from near by. And in a moment this was followed +by a bustling rush among the leaves as two winged mates fled farther +into the forest. Yet the sudden flight seemed quite unnecessary.</p> + +<p>Again the stillness was broken. This time it was by the harsh voice of +a black carrion. This too was followed by movement, only the movement +had no haste or suggestion of fear. It was simply the heavy flapping +of slow-moving wings. Two enormous crows launched themselves upon the +air from the topmost branches of a distant tree, and perched on the +crest of another at the trail-side.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p><p>They sat there in solemn, unmoving silence, but with eyes alert and +watchful, and who might tell the thought passing through their +unwholesome minds!</p> + +<p>But now a further sound broke the stillness—a sound which perhaps +accounted for the movements of the birds. A soft patter grew out of +the distance like the pad of muffled feet. But it was faint and +seemingly far off. The sharp eyes of the feathered watchers were +scanning the horizon from their lofty perches. The sound grew. And as +it grew the waiting carrion turned to view both distances of the +trail. It was evident that the growing sound had a double source.</p> + +<p>The padding feet became more distinct. Yes, the sounds were sharper. +The softness had gone, developing into the rhythmic beat of hard hoofs +speeding from either direction. Two horses were galloping down the +trail at a rapid pace, and quickly it became evident that their +meeting must occur somewhere almost directly beneath the watchful eyes +of the waiting birds.</p> + +<p>Nearer and nearer came the hoof-beats. The birds were plucking at +their feathers with an unconcern all too apparent. They ruffled their +wings and preened their plumage, a sure indication of satisfaction. +One of the galloping horses slackened its gait. Perhaps its rider had +heard the approach of that other, and, with the curious instinctive +suspicion of the western trail, prepared to pass him under the best +conditions for defensiveness. Perhaps it was simply the natural action +of a horseman on the trail.</p> + +<p>But the horse from the other direction had slackened speed too. His +rider, too, had reduced his gait to a walk.</p> + +<p>The birds overhead ceased their preening and looked <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>below for the +possible development they seem to be ever awaiting. It makes no +difference, they follow the trail of all animal life, waiting, +waiting, with a patience inexhaustible, for the moment of stillness +which tells them that life has passed and the banquet awaits them.</p> + +<p>One of the horsemen came into full view from the height above. The +second horseman appeared round a bend. Both men were mounted on the +lean, hard-muscled horses of prairie breeding. They were spare of +flesh and uncared for, but their muscles were hard and their legs +clean. Between them a bend in the trail still intervened, but with +each moment they were drawing nearer to each other.</p> + +<p>Right under the tree upon which the crows were perched Pete drew rein +and sat listening to the shuffling gait of the oncoming horse. The +man’s lean face was dark with a brooding hatred. His eyes were +fiercely alight with expectancy. A revolver lay across his thigh, the +butt of it firmly grasped in a hand clutching it with desperate +purpose.</p> + +<p>The trail was the trail to the farm. Ike had gone to the farm. A +horseman was returning along that trail from the direction of the +farm. Such was the argument behind his aggressive action. It was a +simple argument which in his sober senses might have needed support to +urge him to the course he now contemplated. But he was not sober; +Beasley had seen to that. He was no more sober than was Ike.</p> + +<p>Ike’s horse was moving slowly—much slower than its usual walking gait +The man was craning forward. Who, he wondered, was riding toward the +farm, and for what purpose? His right hand was on the butt of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>revolver, but his weapon was still in its holster, for his action was +purely precautionary in a country where, when a man has enemies, or +has done those things which he knows his fellows resent, it is +advisable to look for no support outside his own ability to defend +himself.</p> + +<p>He remembered the screams of Joan, and he knew how the hills echoed. +He wondered, and wondering he regretted something of what he had done. +But he regretted it only for possible consequences to himself. In +reality he reveled in the warm memory of the feel of the girl’s soft +cheek.</p> + +<p>His horse reached the bend. He could no longer hear the hoof-beats of +the other. He drew up with a sudden, nervous movement, and his gun +left its holster. But his nerves passed, and, with a foul oath, he +urged his horse forward. He rounded the bend and came face to face +with the figure of Blue Grass Pete.</p> + +<p>“Wher’ you bin?” demanded the latter in a manner that was a deliberate +insult.</p> + +<p>Ike did the only thing his wit could prompt. He laughed. It was a +harsh, mirthless laugh, which was equally an insult.</p> + +<p>“Quit it!” roared Pete in a blind fury. “Wher’ you bin, I say?”</p> + +<p>Ike abandoned his laugh, but his face was furiously grinning.</p> + +<p>“Bin?” he echoed. “I bin wher’ you needn’t to go—wher’ it ain’t no +use your goin’,” he cried, his love of boast prompting him. “I bin to +fix things up. She’s goin’ to mar——”</p> + +<p>A shot rang out. Ike’s face blanched, but like lightning his pistol +bit out its retort. Pete reeled and recovered <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>himself, and again he +fired. Ike leant forward as though seeking support from the horn of +his saddle. Pete had fallen forward on to his horse’s neck. Ike raised +his gun and fired again, but there had really been no need for the +shot. Even as his gun spoke the other man fell to the ground and +rolled over. His dark face was turned upward, so that the waiting +crows had a full view of it.</p> + +<p>After that Ike remained quite still. His pale face, turning to a +greenish hue in contrast to his ginger hair, was staring down at the +result of his handiwork. But his eyes were almost unseeing. He was +faint and weary, and in great pain.</p> + +<p>The moments passed. At last he stirred. But his movement was merely to +clutch with feeble fingers at the mane of his horse. Vainly his left +hand clawed amongst the lank hair, while the fingers of his right +released their grip upon his pistol and let it clatter to the ground.</p> + +<p>He crouched there breathing heavily, while a harsh croak from above +split the air. Again he moved as though the sound had awakened him. He +strove to sit up, to lift the reins, and to urge his horse forward. +The beast moved in response to his effort. But the movement was all +that was needed. The man reeled, lost his balance, and fell heavily to +the ground. He too had rolled on to his back—he too was gazing up +with unseeing eyes at the dark-hued carrion whose patience was +inexhaustible.</p> + +<p>For a moment all was still. Then the horses moved as by common +consent. They drew near to each other, and their noses met in that +inquiring equine fashion which suggests friendly overtures. They stood +thus for a while. Then both moved to the side of the trail and began +to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>graze upon the parching grass after the unconcerned manner of +their kind.</p> + +<p>The heavy flapping of wings told of a fresh movement in the trees +above. Two great black bodies swung out upon the air. They circled +round as though assuring themselves that all was as they could wish +it. Then they settled again. But this time it was on the boughs of a +low bush less than six feet above the staring faces of their intended +victims.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>A MAN’S SUPPORT</h3> + +<p>Buck looked up as two crows flew low over his head and passed on their +way, croaking out their alarm and dissatisfaction. Mechanically his +eyes followed their movements. For he was well versed in the sights, +and sounds, and habits of his world.</p> + +<p>Presently he turned again to the trail, and the expression of his eyes +had changed to one of speculation. Cæsar was traveling eagerly. He had +not yet forgotten that farther on along that trail lay the old barn +which had been his home from his earliest recollections.</p> + +<p>Buck had had no intention of making this visit to the farm when he +left Beasley’s saloon. He had not had the remotest intention of +carrying out the man’s broadly-given hint. A hint from Beasley was +always unwelcome to him, and generally roused an obstinate desire to +take an opposite course. Nor was it until he reached the ford of the +creek that the significance of the man’s tone penetrated his dislike +of him. Quite abruptly he made up his mind to keep straight on. +Curiosity, added to a slight feeling of uneasiness, urged him, and, +leaving the ford behind him, he kept on down the trail.</p> + +<p>His decision once taken, he felt easier as he rode on. Besides, he +admitted to himself now, he was rather thankful to the saloon-keeper +for providing him with something in the nature of an excuse for such a +visit. He was different <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>from those others, who, in perfect confidence +and ignorance, required not the least encouragement to persecute Joan +with their attentions. He found it more than difficult to realize that +his visits were anything but irksome to the new owner of the farm now +that she had settled down with the adequate support of her “hired” +man.</p> + +<p>Joan’s graciousness to him was the one great delight of his every +waking hour. But he dreaded the moment when her manner might become +the mere tolerance she displayed toward Ike and Pete, and any of the +others who chose to make her farm a halting-place. So his visits had +become rarer; far rarer than made for his own peace of mind, for Joan +was always in his thoughts.</p> + +<p>Tramping the long trail of the mountains her smiling eyes were always +somewhere ahead of him, encouraging him, and shedding a radiance of +hope and delight upon the dullest moments of his routine. Never for +one moment was the delightful picture of her presence absent from his +thoughts. And to him there was nothing in the whole wide world so +fair, and sweet, and worthy of the worship he so willingly cast at her +feet.</p> + +<p>His life had always been full in his wilderness of Nature’s splendor. +In his moments of leisure he had been more than happily content in the +pleasant friendship of the man who had sheltered him from childhood. +But now—now as he looked back over all those years, the associations +seemed dull and empty—empty of all that made life worth living. Not +only had he come to realize the woman’s place in a man’s life. It was +the old story of the fruit of knowledge. Woman had always been a +sealed book to him. Now, at last, the cover had been turned and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>pages lay before him for the reading. He yearned for Joan with all +the strength and passionate ardor of his strong young heart. Nor, even +in his yearning, had he full understanding of the real depths of his +feelings.</p> + +<p>How could he study or analyze them? His love had no thought of the +world in it. It had no thought of anything that could bring it down to +the level of concrete sensation. He could not have told one feeling +that was his. With Joan at his side he moved in a mental paradise +which no language could depict. With Joan at his side he lived with +every nerve pulsating, attuned to a perfect consciousness of joy. With +Joan at his side there was nothing but light and radiance which filled +every sense with a happiness than which he could conceive no greater. +Alone, this great wide world about him was verily a wilderness.</p> + +<p>The man’s feelings quickly mastered his momentary uneasiness as his +horse bore him on toward his goal. The forest path over which he was +traveling had lost its hue of gloom which the shadowed pine woods ever +convey. There was light everywhere, that light which comes straight +from the heart and is capable of lending radiance even to the +grave-side itself.</p> + +<p>The trail lay straight ahead of him for some distance. Then it swerved +in a big sweep away to the left. He knew this bend. The farm lay +something less than half a mile beyond it. As they neared it Cæsar +pricked his ears and whinnied. Buck leant forward and patted his neck +out of the very joy of anticipation. It almost seemed to him as if the +creature knew who was waiting at the end of the journey and was +rejoicing with him. For once he had misunderstood the mood of his +horse.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p><p>He realized this in a moment. The eager creature began to move with a +less swinging stride, and his gait quickly became something in the +nature of a “prop.” They were round the bend, and the horse whinnied +again. This time it raised its head and snorted nervously. And +instantly Buck was alive to the creature’s anxiety. He understood the +quick glancing from side to side, and the halting of that changing +step which is always a sign of fear.</p> + +<p>Ahead the trail completed the letter S it had begun. They were nearing +the final curve to the right. Buck searched the distance for the cause +of Cæsar’s apprehension. And all unconsciously his mind went back to +the winging of the crows overhead and the sound of their harsh voices. +He spurred the creature sharply, and steadied him down.</p> + +<p>They reached the final bend and passed round it, and in a moment Buck +had an answer to the questions in his mind. It was a terrible +spectacle that greeted his eyes as he reined his horse in and brought +him to an abrupt halt. He had reached the battle-ground where death +had claimed its toll of human passion. There, swiftly, almost +silently, two men had fought out their rivalry for a woman’s favor—a +favor given to neither.</p> + +<p>It needed little enough imagination to read the facts. All the +ingredients of the swift-moving drama were there before his eyes—the +combatants stretched out in the sand of the trail, with staring eyes +and dropping jaws, gazing up at the brilliant vault of the heavens, +whither, may be, their savage spirits had fled; the woman crouching +down at the roadside with face buried upon outstretched arms, her +slight body heaving with hysterical sobs; the horses, horses he knew +well enough by sight, lost to the tragedy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>amidst the more succulent +roots of the parching grass beneath the shadow of overhanging trees.</p> + +<p>One glance at the combatants told Buck all he wanted to know. They +were dead. He had been too long upon the western trail to doubt the +signs he beheld. His duty and inclination were with the living. In a +moment he was out of the saddle and at Joan’s side, raising her from +her position of grief and misery in arms as gentle as they were +strong.</p> + +<p>He had no real understanding of the necessities of the moment. All he +knew, all he desired, was to afford the girl that help and protection +he felt she needed. His first thought was to keep her from a further +sight of what had occurred. So he held her in his arms, limp and +yielding, for one uncertain moment. Then, for the second time in his +life, he bore her off toward her home.</p> + +<p>But now his feelings were of a totally different nature. There was +neither ecstasy nor dreaming. He was anxious and beset. As he bore her +along he spoke to her, encouraging her with gentle words of sympathy +and hope. But her fainting condition left him no reward, and her +half-closed eyes, filled with unshed tears, remained dull and +unresponsive.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>No sound broke the stillness in the parlor at the farm. Buck was +leaning against the small centre-table gravely watching the bowed head +of the silently-weeping girl, who was seated upon the rough settle +which lined the wall. Her slight figure was supported by the pillows +which had been set in place by the ministering hands of Mrs. Ransford.</p> + +<p>Buck’s reception by the farm-wife had been very different <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>on this +occasion. She had met him with his burden some distance down the +trail, whither she had followed her young mistress, whose fleetness +had left her far behind. Her tongue had started to clack at once, but +Buck was in no mood to put up with unnecessary chatter. A peremptory +order had had the astonishing effect of silencing her, and a further +command had set her bustling to help her mistress.</p> + +<p>Once immediate needs had been attended to, the man told his story +briefly, and added his interpretation of the scene he had just +witnessed. He further dispatched the old woman to summon the hired man +from his ploughing, and, for once, found ready obedience where he +might well have expected nothing but objection.</p> + +<p>Thus it was the man and girl were alone in the parlor. Buck was +waiting for Joan’s storm of tears to pass.</p> + +<p>The moment came at last, and quite abruptly. Joan stirred; she flung +her head up and dashed the weak tears from her eyes, struggling +bravely for composure. But the moment she spoke her words belied the +resolution, and showed her still in the toils of an overwhelming +despair.</p> + +<p>“What can I do?” she cried piteously. “What am I to do? I can see +nothing—nothing but disaster in every direction. It is all a part of +my life; a part of me. I cannot escape it. I have tried to, but—I +cannot. Oh, I feel so helpless—so helpless!”</p> + +<p>Buck’s eyes shone with love and pity. He was stirred to the depths of +his manhood by her appeal. Here again was that shadow she had spoken +of before, that he had become familiar with. He tried to tell himself +that she was simply unnerved, but he knew her trouble was more <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>than +that. All his love drove him to a longing for a means of comforting +her.</p> + +<p>“Forget the things you seen,” he said in a low tone. And he felt that +his words were bald—even stupid.</p> + +<p>The girl’s troubled eyes were looking up into his in a desperate hope. +It was almost as if this man were her only support, and she were +making one final appeal before abandoning altogether her saving hold.</p> + +<p>“Forget them? Oh, Buck, Buck, you don’t know what you are saying. You +don’t understand—you can’t, or you would not speak like that. You +see,” she went on, forgetting in her trouble that this man did not +know her story, “Ike was here. Here! He made—love to me. He—he +kissed me. He brutally kissed me when I had no power to resist him. +And now—now this has happened.”</p> + +<p>But the man before her had suddenly changed while she was speaking. +The softness had left his eyes. They had suddenly become hot, and +bloodshot, and hard. His breath came quickly, heavily, his thin +nostrils dilating with the furious emotion that swept through his +body. Ike had kissed her. He had forgotten all her sufferings in his +own sudden, jealous fury.</p> + +<p>Joan waited. The change in the man had passed unobserved by her. Then, +as no answer was forthcoming, she went on—</p> + +<p>“Wherever I go it is the same. Death and disaster. Oh, it is awful! +Sometimes I think I shall go mad. Is there no corner of the earth +where I can hide myself from the shadow of this haunting curse?”</p> + +<p>“Ike kissed you?”</p> + +<p>Buck’s voice grated harshly. Somehow her appeal <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>had passed him by. +All his better thoughts and feelings were overshadowed for the moment. +A fierce madness was sweeping through his veins, his heart, his brain, +a madness of feeling such as he had never before experienced.</p> + +<p>The girl answered him, still without recognizing the change.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said in a dull, hopeless way. “And the inevitable happened. +It followed swiftly, surely, as it always seems to follow. He is +dead.”</p> + +<p>“He got it—as he should get it. He got no more than he’d have got if +I’d been around.”</p> + +<p>Buck’s mood could no longer escape her. She looked into the hard, +young face, startled. She saw the fury in his eyes, the clenched jaws, +with their muscles outstanding with the force of the fury stirring +him.</p> + +<p>The sight agitated her, but somehow it did not frighten. She half +understood. At least she thought she did. She read his resentment as +that of a man who sees in the outrage a breaking of all the laws of +chivalry. She missed the real note underlying it.</p> + +<p>“What does his act matter?” she said almost indifferently, her mind on +what she regarded as the real tragedy. “He was drunk. He was not +responsible. No, no. It is not that which matters. It was the other. +He left me—to go to his death. Had Pete not been waiting for him it +would have been just the same. Disaster! Death! Oh! can you not see? +It is the disaster which always follows me.”</p> + +<p>Her protest was not without its effect. So insistent was she on the +resulting tragedy that Buck found himself endeavoring to follow her +thought in spite of his own <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>feelings. She was associating this +tragedy with herself—as part of her life, her fate.</p> + +<p>But it was some moments before the man was sufficiently master of +himself—before he could detach his thought altogether from the human +feelings stirring him. The words sang on his ear-drums. “He—he kissed +me.” They were flaming through his brain. They blurred every other +thought, and, for a time, left him incapable of lending her that +support he would so willingly give her. Finally, however, his better +nature had its way. He choked down his jealous fury, and strove to +find means of comforting her.</p> + +<p>“It’s all wrong,” he cried, with a sudden force which claimed the +girl’s attention, and, for the time at least, held her troubled +thought suspended. “How can this be your doing? Why for should it be a +curse on you because two fellers shoot each other up? They hated each +other because of you. Wal—that’s natural. It’s dead human. It’s been +done before, an’ I’m sure guessin’ it’ll be done again. It’s not you. +It’s—it’s nature—human nature. Say, Miss Joan, you ain’t got the +lessons of these hills right yet. Folks out here are diffrent to city +folks. That is, their ways of doin’ the same things are diff’rent. We +feel the same—that’s because we’re made the same—but we act +diff’rent. If I’d bin around, I’d have shot Ike—with a whole heap of +pleasure. An’ if I had, wher’s the cuss on you? Kissin’ a gal like +that can’t be done around here.”</p> + +<p>“But Pete was not here. He didn’t know.”</p> + +<p>Joan was quick to grasp the weakness of his argument.</p> + +<p>“It don’t matter a cent,” cried Buck, his teeth clipping his words. +“He needed his med’cine—an’ got it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>Joan sighed hopelessly.</p> + +<p>“You don’t understand, and—and I can’t tell it you all. Sometimes I +feel I could kill myself. How can I help realizing the truth? It is +forced on me. I am a leper, a—a pariah.”</p> + +<p>The girl leant back on her cushions, and her whole despairing attitude +became an appeal to his manhood. The last vestige of Buck’s jealousy +passed from him. He longed to tell her all there was in his heart. He +longed to take her in his arms and comfort her, and protect her from +every shadow the whole wide world held for her. He longed to tell her +of the love that was his, and how no power on earth could change it. +But he did none of these things.</p> + +<p>“The things you’re callin’ yourself don’t sound wholesome,” he said +simply. “I can’t see they fit in anyway. Guess they ain’t natural.”</p> + +<p>Joan caught at the word.</p> + +<p>“Natural!” she cried. “Is any of it natural?” She laughed +hysterically.</p> + +<p>Buck nodded.</p> + +<p>“It’s all natural,” he said. “You’ve hit it. You don’t need my word. +Jest you ask the Padre. He’ll give it you all. He’ll tell you jest how +notions can make a cuss of any life, an’ how to get shut of sech +notions. He’s taught me, an’ he’ll teach you. I can’t jest pass his +words on. They don’t git the same meaning when I say ’em. I ain’t wise +to that sort of thing. But ther’s things I am wise to, and they’re the +things he’s taught me. You’re feeling mean, mean an’ miser’ble, that +makes me ter’ble mean to see. Say, Miss Joan, I ain’t much handin’ +advice. I ain’t got brain enough to hand that sort of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>thing around, +but I’d sure ask you to say right here ther’ ain’t no cuss on your +life, an’ never was. You jest guess there’s a cuss around chasin’ +glory at your expense. Wal, git right up, an’ grit your teeth an’ +fight good. Don’t sit around feeling mean. If you’d do that, I tell +you that cuss’ll hit the trail so quick you won’t git time to see it, +an’ you’ll bust yourself laffin’ to think you ever tho’t it was around +your layout. An’ before I done talkin’ I’ll ast you to remember that +when menfolks git around insultin’ a helpless gal, cuss or no cuss, +he’s goin’ to git his med’cine good—an’ from me.”</p> + +<p>Buck’s effort had its reward. The smile that had gradually found its +way into his own eyes caught something of a reflection in those of the +girl. He had dragged her from the depths of her despair by the force +of the frank courage that was his. He had lifted her by the sheer +strength and human honesty which lay at the foundation of his whole, +simple nature. Joan sighed, and it was an acknowledgment of his +success.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Buck,” she said gently. “You are always so good to me. You +have been so ever since I came. And goodness knows you have little +enough reason for it, seeing it is I who have turned you out of this +home of yours——”</p> + +<p>“We got your money,” interrupted Buck, almost brusquely. “This farm +was the Padre’s. You never turned me out. An’ say, the Padre don’t +live a big ways from here. Maybe you’d like him to tell you about +cusses an’ things.” His eyes twinkled. “He’s sure great on cusses.”</p> + +<p>But Joan did not respond to the lightness of his manner, and Buck +realized that her trouble was still strong upon her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p><p>He waited anxiously, watching for the signs of her acceptance of his +invitation. But they were not forthcoming. The deep violet of her eyes +seemed to grow deeper with a weight of thought, and gradually the +man’s hopes sank. He had wanted her to see his friend, he had wanted +his friend to see her. But more than all he had wanted to welcome her +to his own home. Nor was the reason of his desire clear even to +himself.</p> + +<p>At last she rose from her seat and crossed over to the window, just as +the sound of voices heralded the return of Mrs. Ransford and the hired +man. It was at that moment she turned to him, speaking over her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“They’ve got back,” she said. “What are you going to do?”</p> + +<p>“Send those—others—on into camp.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.” Joan shivered.</p> + +<p>Then she came back to him, and stood with one hand resting on the +table.</p> + +<p>“I—I think I should like to see the Padre. Will you take me to him +one day?”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE BRIDGING OF YEARS</h3> + +<p>It was nearly a week later that Joan paid her visit to the fur fort.</p> + +<p>The Padre moved about the room a little uncertainly. Its plainness +troubled him, but its cleanliness was unquestionable. Both he and Buck +had spent over two hours, earlier in the day, setting the place to +rights and preparing for their visitor.</p> + +<p>He shook his head as he viewed the primitive condition of the +furniture. It was all very, very home-made. There was not one seat he +felt to be suitable to offer to a lady. He was very dissatisfied. +Dissatisfied with it all, and particularly with Buck for bringing Joan +to this wretched mountain abode. It would have been far better had he +called at the farm. It even occurred to him now as curious that he had +never done so before.</p> + +<p>Yet perhaps it was not so curious after all. He had been attached to +the home which had sheltered him all those years, the home his own two +hands had built. Yes, it was different making a place, building it, +driving every nail oneself, setting up every fence post, turning every +clod of soil. It was different to purchasing it, ready-made, or hiring +labor. He had no desire to go near the farm again. That, like other +things, had passed out of his life forever.</p> + +<p>Three times he rearranged the room in the vain hope <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>of giving it an +added appearance of comfort, but the task was hopeless. Finally, he +sat down and lit his pipe, smiling at his almost childish desire that +his home should find favor in the eyes of the girl Buck was bringing +to see him.</p> + +<p>Buck had told him very little. He had spoken of the visit, and hinted +at Joan’s desire for advice. He had been very vague. But then that was +Buck’s way in some things. It was not often that he had need to go +into reasons in his intercourse with his friend. Such a perfect +understanding had always existed between them that they were rarely +discoursive. He had told the Padre of the shooting, and explained the +apparent cause. He had also told him of the reception of the news in +the camp, and how a small section of the older inhabitants had adopted +an attitude of resentment against the innocent cause of it. He had +shown him that there was plainly no sympathy, or very little, for Joan +when the story was told. And to the elder man this was disquieting. +Buck had treated it with the contempt of youth, but the Padre had +detected in it a food for graver thought than he let the boy +understand.</p> + +<p>It would be time enough to break up Buck’s confidence should any +trouble develop. In the meantime he had understood that there was +something like real necessity for him to see this girl. If she needed +any help then it was plainly his duty to give it her. And, besides, +there was another reason. Buck desired this interview.</p> + +<p>He smiled to himself as he thought of the turn events had taken with +Buck. He must have been blind indeed if he had not seen from the very +first the way things were going. The boy had fallen hopelessly in love +with the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>first girl with whom he had definitely been brought into +contact. And why not? Yes, he was rather anxious to see and talk with +this girl who had set the boy’s heart on fire.</p> + +<p>Yet it seemed strange. Buck had never been anything but a boy to him. +He had never really grown up. He was still the small, pathetic figure +he had first encountered on the trail-side. And now here he was +hopelessly, madly in love with a girl. He would never forget the fire +of jealousy that had lain behind his words when Buck had told him that +Ike had forcibly kissed her.</p> + +<p>His thought lost its more sympathetic note, and he became grave. Love +had come into this youngster’s life, and he wondered in what direction +it would influence it. He knew well enough, no one better, how much +damage love could do. He knew well enough the other, and right side of +the picture. But Buck was an unusual experiment. Even to him, who knew +the boy so well, he was still something of a problem in many ways. One +thing was certain. He would get the trouble badly, and time alone +could show what ravages and complications might be forthcoming.</p> + +<p>He rose from his chair and knocked out his pipe. Then, in smiling +dismay, he sniffed the air. He had done the very thing he had meant to +avoid. He shook his white head, and opened wide both the window and +the door in the hope that the fresh mountain air would sweeten the +atmosphere before the girl’s arrival.</p> + +<p>But his hopes were quickly dashed. As he took up his position in the +doorway, prepared to extend her the heartiest greeting, he heard the +clatter of hoofs on the trail, and the man and the girl rode into the +stockade.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>Buck had departed to perform his usual evening tasks. He had gone to +water and feed the horses, to “buck” cord-wood for the stove, and to +draw the water for their household purposes. He was full early with +his work, but he was anxious that the Padre and Joan should remain +undisturbed. Such was his faith in the Padre that he felt that on this +visit depended much of the girl’s future peace of mind.</p> + +<p>Now the white-haired man and the girl were alone—alone with the ruddy +westering sun pouring in through window and door, in an almost +horizontal shaft of gracious light. Joan was sitting bending over the +cook-stove, her feet resting on the rack at the foot of the oven, her +hands outstretched to the warming glow of the fire. The evenings in +the hills, even in the height of summer, were never without a nip of +cold which drifted down from the dour, ages-old glaciers crowning the +distant peaks. She was talking, gazing into the glowing coals. She was +piecing out her story as it had been told her by her Aunt Mercy, +feeling that only with a full knowledge of it could this wise old +white-haired friend of Buck’s understand and help her.</p> + +<p>The Padre was sitting close under the window. His back was turned to +it, so that his face was almost lost in the shadow. And it was as +well. As the story proceeded, as incident after incident was unfolded, +the man’s face became gray with unspeakable emotion, and from robust +middle age he jumped to an old, old man.</p> + +<p>But Joan saw none of this. Never once did she turn her eyes in his +direction. She was lost in painful recollections of the hideous things +with which she seemed to be surrounded. She told him of her birth, +those strange <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>circumstances which her aunt had told her of, and which +now, in her own cold words, sounded so like a fairy tale. She told him +of her father and her father’s friend, the man who had always been his +evil genius. She told him of her father’s sudden good fortune, and of +the swift-following disaster. She told him of his dreadful death at +the hands of his friend. Then she went on, mechanically reciting the +extraordinary events which had occurred to her—how, in each case +where men sought her regard and love, disaster had followed hard upon +their heels; how she had finally fled before the disaster which dogged +her; how she had come here, here where she thought she might be free +from associations so painful, only to find that escape was impossible.</p> + +<p>“I need not tell you what has happened since I came,” she finished up +dully. “You know it all. They say I brought them their luck. Luck? Was +there ever such luck? First my coming cost a man’s life, and now—now +Ike and Pete. What is to follow?”</p> + +<p>The Padre had not once interrupted her in her long story, and, even +now, as the last sound of her voice died out, it was some moments +before he spoke.</p> + +<p>The fire in the grate rustled and the cinders shook down.</p> + +<p>It was then that the girl stirred as though suddenly made aware of the +silence. Immediately the man’s voice, cold—almost harsh, in contrast +to his usual tone, startled her.</p> + +<p>“‘Rest’ is not your name,” he said. “You have changed your name—to +further aid your escape from——”</p> + +<p>“How do you know that?” Then the girl went on, wondering at the man’s +quickness of understanding. “I had not intended telling you. But it +doesn’t matter. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>Nothing seems to matter. Evidently my disguise is +useless with you. No, my name is not Rest. My father was Charles +Stanmore.”</p> + +<p>The man made no reply. He did not move. His keen eyes were on the +red-gold hair so neatly coiled about the girl’s head. His lips were +compressed, and a deep frown had disturbed the usual serenity of his +broad brow.</p> + +<p>For a moment Joan bowed her head, and her hands clasped tightly as +they were held toward the fire. Presently her voice sounded again. It +began low, held under a forced calm.</p> + +<p>“Is there no hope?” she implored him. “Buck said you could help me. +What have I done that these things should curse my life? I only want +peace—just a little peace. I am content to live and die just as I am. +I desire nothing more than to be left—alone.”</p> + +<p>“Who told you—all this?” The Padre’s voice had no sympathy.</p> + +<p>“My aunt. Aunt Mercy.”</p> + +<p>“You were—happy before she told you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Why did she tell you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. At least—yes, she told me so as to warn me. So that I +might avoid bringing disaster upon those whom I had no desire to +hurt.”</p> + +<p>The Padre rose from his seat and crossed to where the girl was +sitting. He stood for a moment just behind her chair. Then, very +gently, he laid one sunburnt hand upon her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Little girl,” he said, with a wonderful kindliness that started the +long-threatened tears to the girl’s eyes, “you’ve <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>got a peck of +trouble inside that golden head of yours. But it’s all in there. +There’s none of it outside. Look back over all those things you’ve +told me. Every one of them. Just show me where your hand in them lies. +There is not a disaster that you have mentioned but what possesses its +perfectly logical, natural cause. There is not one that has not been +duplicated, triplicated, ah! dozens and dozens of times since this +quaint old world of ours began. You believe it is due to your +influence because a silly old woman catches you in an overwrought +moment and tells you so. She has implanted a parasite in your little +head that has stuck there and grown out of all proportion. Believe me, +child, you cannot influence the destinies of men. You have no say in +the matter. As we are made, so we must work out our own salvation. It +has been your lot to witness many disasters, but had these things +occurred with other girls as the central figure, would you have +attributed this hideous curse to their lives? Would you? Never. But +you readily attribute it to your own. I am an old man my dear; older +to-day, perhaps, by far than my years call for. I have seen so much of +misery and trouble that sometimes I have thought that all life is just +one long sea of disaster. But it isn’t—unless we choose to make it +so. You are rapidly making yours such. You are naturally generous, and +kind, and sympathetic. These things you have allowed to develop in you +until they have become something approaching disease. Vampires sucking +out all your nervous strength. Abandon these things for a while. Live +the life the good God gave you. Enjoy your living moments as you were +intended to enjoy them. And be thankful that the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>sun rises each +morning, and that you can rise up from your bed refreshed and ready +for the full play of heart, and mind, and limbs. Disasters will go on +about you as they go on about me, and about us all. But they do not +belong to us. That is just life. That is just the world and its +scheme. There are lessons in all these things for us to learn—lessons +for the purification of our hearts, and not diseases for our silly, +weak brains. Now, little girl, I want you to promise that you will +endeavor to do as I say. Live a wholesome, healthy life. Enjoy all +that it is given you to enjoy. Where good can be done, do it. Where +evil lies, shun it. Forget all this that lies behind you, and—Live! +Evil is merely the absence of Good. Life is all Good. If we deny that +good, then there is Evil. Live your life with all its blessings, and +your God will bless <i>you</i>. This is your duty to yourself; to your +fellows; to life; to your God.”</p> + +<p>Joan had risen from her seat. Her face was alight with a hope that had +not been there for many days. The man’s words had taken hold of her. +Her troubled mind could not withstand them. He had inspired her with a +feeling of security she had not known for weeks. Her tears were no +longer tears of despair. They were tears of thankfulness and hope. But +when she spoke her words seemed utterly bald and meaningless to +express the wave of gratitude that flooded her heart.</p> + +<p>“I will; I will,” she cried with glistening eyes. “Oh, Padre!” she +went on, with happy impulse, “you don’t know what you’ve done for +me—you don’t know——”</p> + +<p>“Then, child, do something for me.” The man was smiling gravely down +into the bright, upturned face. “You must not live alone down there at +the farm. It <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>is not good in a child so young as you. Get some +relative to come and share your home with you.”</p> + +<p>“But I have no one—except my Aunt Mercy.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!”</p> + +<p>“You see she is my only relative. But—but I think she would come if I +asked her.”</p> + +<p>“Then ask her.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The Padre was sitting in the chair that Joan had occupied. He too was +bending over the stove with his hands outstretched to the warming +blaze. Perhaps he too was feeling the nip of the mountain air. Feeling +it more than usual to-night. Buck was sitting on the edge of the table +close by. He had just returned from taking Joan back to the farm.</p> + +<p>The young man’s journey home had been made in a condition of mental +exhilaration which left him quite unconscious of all time and +distance. The change wrought in Joan had been magical, and Cæsar, for +once in his life, felt the sharp spur of impatience in the man’s eager +desire to reach his friend and speak something of the gratitude he +felt.</p> + +<p>But habit was strong upon Buck, and his gratitude found no outlet in +words when the moment came. Far from it. On his arrival he found the +Padre sitting at their fireside without even the most ordinary welcome +on his lips. A matter so unusual that it found Buck dumb, waiting for +the lead to come, as he knew it inevitably would, in the Padre’s own +good time.</p> + +<p>It took longer than he expected, however, and it was not until he had +prepared their frugal supper that the elder man stirred from his moody +contemplation of the fire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p><p>He looked up, and a smile struggled painfully into his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Hungry, Buck?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“So!”</p> + +<p>“Ah! then sit right down here, boy, an’ light your pipe. There’s +things I want to say—first.”</p> + +<p>“Get right ahead.” Buck drew up a chair, and obediently filled and lit +his pipe.</p> + +<p>“Life’s pretty twisted,” the Padre began, his steady gray eyes smiling +contemplatively. “So twisted, it makes you wonder some. That girl’s +happier now, because I told her there were no such things as cusses. +Yes, it’s all queer.”</p> + +<p>He reached out and helped himself from Buck’s tobacco pouch. Then he, +too, filled and lit his pipe.</p> + +<p>“You’ve never asked me why I live out here,” he went on presently. +“Never since I’ve known you. Once or twice I’ve seen the question in +your eyes, but—it never stayed there long. You don’t ask many +questions, do you, Buck?”</p> + +<p>The Padre puffed slowly at his pipe. His manner was that of a man +looking back upon matters which had suddenly acquired an added +interest for him. Yet the talk he desired to have with this youngster +inspired an ill-flavor.</p> + +<p>“If folks want to answer questions ther’ ain’t no need to ask ’em.” +Buck’s philosophy interested the other, and he nodded.</p> + +<p>“Just so. That’s how it is with me—now. I want to tell you—what +you’ve never asked. You’ll see the reason presently.”</p> + +<p>Buck waited. His whole manner suggested indifference. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>Yet there was a +thoughtful look in his dark eyes.</p> + +<p>“That girl,” the Padre went on, his gaze returning to a contemplation +of the fire. “She’s put me in mind of something. She’s reminded me how +full of twists and cranks life is. She’s full of good. Full of good +thoughts and ideals. Yet life seems to take a delight in impressing +her with a burden so unwholesome as to come very nearly undoing all +the good it has endowed her with. It seems queer. It seems devilish +hard. But I generally notice the harder folk try in this world the +heavier the cross they have to carry. Maybe it’s the law of fitness. +Maybe folks must bear a burden at their full capacity so that the +result may be a greater refining. I’ve thought a lot lately. Sometimes +I’ve thought it’s better to sit around and—well, don’t worry with +anything outside three meals a day. That’s been in weak moments. You +see, we can’t help our natures. If it’s in us to do the best we +know—well, we’re just going to do it, and—and hang the result.”</p> + +<p>“H’m.” Buck grunted and waited.</p> + +<p>“I was thinking of things around here,” the other went on. “I was +wondering about the camp. It’s a stinking hole now. It’s full of +everything—rotten. Yet they think it’s one huge success, and they +reckon we helped them to it.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>“Why, by feeding them when they were starving, and so making it +possible for them to hang on until Nature opened her treasure-house.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded.</p> + +<p>“I see.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p><p>“All I see is—perhaps through our efforts—we’ve turned loose a hell +of drunkenness and debauchery upon earth. These people—perhaps +through our efforts—have been driven along the very path we would +rather have saved them from. The majority will end in disaster. Some +have already done so. But for our help this would not have been.”</p> + +<p>“They’d jest have starved.”</p> + +<p>“We should not have sold our farm, and Ike and Pete would have been +alive now.”</p> + +<p>“In Ike’s case it would have been a pity.”</p> + +<p>The Padre smiled. He took Buck’s protest for what it was worth.</p> + +<p>“Yes, life’s pretty twisted. It’s always been the same with me. +Wherever I’ve got busy trying to help those I had regard for I +generally managed to find my efforts working out with a result I never +reckoned on. That’s why I am here.”</p> + +<p>The Padre smoked on for some moments in silence.</p> + +<p>“I was hot-headed once,” he went on presently. “I was so hot-headed +that I—I insulted the woman I loved. I insulted her beyond +forgiveness. You see, she didn’t love me. She loved my greatest +friend. Still, that’s another story. It’s the friend I want to talk +about. He was a splendid fellow. A bright, impetuous gambler on the +New York Stock Exchange. We were both on Wall Street. I was a gambler +too. I was a lucky gambler, and he was an unlucky one. In spite of my +love for the woman, who loved him, it was my one great desire to help +him. My luck was such that I believed I could do it—my luck and my +conceit. You see, next to the woman I loved he was everything in the +world to me. Do you get that?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p><p>Buck nodded.</p> + +<p>“Well, in spite of all I could and did do, after a nice run of luck +which made me think his affairs had turned for the better, a spell of +the most terrible ill-luck set in. There was no checking it. He rode +headlong for a smash. I financed him time and again, nearly ruining +myself in my effort to save him. He took to drink badly. He grew +desperate in his gambling. In short, I saw he had given up all hope. +Again I did the best I could. I was always with him. My object was to +endeavor to keep him in check. In his drinking bouts I was with him, +and when he insisted on poker and other gambling I was there to take a +hand. If I hadn’t done these things—well, others would have, but with +a different object. By a hundred devices I managed to minimize the bad +results of his wild, headstrong career.</p> + +<p>“Then the end came. Had I been less young, had I been less hopeful for +him, less wrapped up in him, I must have foreseen it. We were playing +cards in his apartments. His housekeeper and his baby girl were in a +distant room. They were in bed. You see, it was late at night. It was +the last hand. His luck had been diabolical, but the stakes were +comparatively low. I shall never forget the scene. His nerves were +completely shattered. He picked up his hand, glanced at it—we were +playing poker—jack pots—and flung it down. ‘I’m done,’ he cried, +and, kicking back his chair, rose from the table. He moved a pace away +as though to go to the side-table where the whisky and soda stood. I +thought he meant having a drink. His back was turned to me. The next +moment I heard shots. He seemed to stumble, swung round with a sort of +jerk, and fell face downward across the table.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p><p>“I jumped to his assistance. But—he was dead. He had shot himself +through the heart and in the stomach. My horror? Well, it doesn’t +matter now. I was utterly and completely unnerved. If I hadn’t been +perhaps I should have acted differently. I should have called +his—housekeeper. I should have summoned the police—a doctor. But I +did none of these. My horror and grief were such that I—fled; fled +like the coward I was. Nor did I simply flee from the house. I left +everything, and fled from the city that night. It was not until some +days afterward that I realized what my going meant to me. You see, I +had left behind me, in his housekeeper, the woman I loved—and had +insulted past forgiveness. I was branded as his murderer. Do you see? +She loved him, and was his housekeeper. Oh, there was nothing wrong in +it! I knew that. His baby girl was the child of his dead wife. Several +times I thought of returning to establish my innocence, but somehow my +conduct and my story wouldn’t have fitted in the eyes of a jury. +Besides, there was that insulted woman. She had accused me of the +murder. It was quite useless to go back. It meant throwing away my +life. It was not worth it. So I came here.”</p> + +<p>Buck offered no comment for a long time. Comment seemed unnecessary. +The Padre watched him with eyes striving to conceal their anxiety.</p> + +<p>Finally, Buck put a question that seemed unnecessary.</p> + +<p>“Why d’you tell me now?” he asked. His pipe had gone out and he pushed +it into his hip-pocket.</p> + +<p>The Padre’s smile was rather drawn.</p> + +<p>“Because of you. Because of my friend’s—baby girl.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p><p>“The child’s name was Joan. Joan Rest is the daughter of Charles +Stanmore—the man I am accused of murdering. This afternoon I advised +her to have some one to live with her—a relative. She is sending for +the only one she has. It is her aunt, Stanmore’s housekeeper—the +woman I insulted past forgiveness.”</p> + +<p>Not for an instant did Buck’s expression change.</p> + +<p>“Why did you advise—that?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The Padre’s eyes suddenly lit with a subdued fire, and his answer came +with a passion such as Buck had never witnessed in him before.</p> + +<p>“Why? Why? Because you love this little Joan, daughter of my greatest +friend. Because I owe it to you—to her—to face my accusers and prove +my innocence.”</p> + +<p>The two men looked long and earnestly into each other’s eyes. Then the +Padre’s voice, sharp and strident, sounded through the little room.</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>Buck rose from his seat.</p> + +<p>“Let’s eat, Padre,” he said calmly. “I’m mighty hungry.” Then he came +a step nearer and gripped the elder man’s hand. “I’m right with you, +when things—get busy.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>BEASLEY PLAYS THE GAME</h3> + +<p>Joan lost no time in carrying out the Padre’s wishes. Such was her +changed mood, such was the strength of her new-born hope, such was the +wonderful healing his words had administered to her young mind, that, +for the time at least, her every cloud was dispersed, lost in a +perfect sheen of mental calm.</p> + +<p>The change occurred from the moment of her return home. So changed +indeed was she that her rough but faithful housekeeper, dull of +perception to all those things outside the narrow focus of her life in +domestic service, caught a faint glimpse of it without anything +approaching a proper understanding. She realized an added energy, +which seriously affected her own methods of performing her duties and +caused her to make a mental note that her young mistress was assuming +“airs” which did not fit in with her inexperience of those things +amidst which she, the farm-wife, had floundered all her life. She +heard her moving about the house, her joy and hope finding outlet in +song such as had never echoed through the place before. And promptly +she set this new phase down to the result of her associations with the +young “scallawag” Buck. She noted, too, an added care in her toilet, +and this inspired the portentous belief that she was “a-carryin’ on” +with the same individual. But when it came to a general “turning-out” +of the living-rooms of the house, a matter <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>which added an immense +amount of effort to her own daily duties, her protest found immediate +vent in no uncertain terms.</p> + +<p>It came while the midday dinner was in preparation. It rose to +boiling-point amidst the steam from her cooking pots. Finally it +bubbled over, much as might one of her own kettles.</p> + +<p>Joan was standing in the kitchen giving her orders preparatory to +departing to the camp, whither she was going to mail her letter to her +aunt at Beasley’s store.</p> + +<p>“You see,” she was saying, “I’ll have to make some changes in the +house. I’m expecting my aunt from St. Ellis to come and stay with me. +She won’t be able to do with the things which have been sufficient for +me. She will have my room. I shall buy new furniture for it. I shall +get Beasley to order it for me from Leeson Butte. Then I shall use the +little room next yours. And while we’re making these changes we’ll +have a general housecleaning. You might begin this afternoon on the +room I am going to move into.”</p> + +<p>The old woman turned with a scarlet face. It may have been the result +of the heat of cooking. Then again it may have had other causes.</p> + +<p>“An’ when, may I ast, do I make bricks?” she inquired with ponderous +sarcasm.</p> + +<p>Joan stood abashed for a moment. So unexpected was the retort, so much +was it at variance with her own mood that she had no answer ready, and +the other was left with the field to herself.</p> + +<p>“Now jest look right here, Miss Joan—ma’m,” she cried, flourishing a +cooking spoon to point her words. “I ain’t a woman of many words by no +means, as you <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>might say, but what I sure says means what I mean, no +more an’ no less, as the sayin’ is. I’ve kep’ house all my life, an’ I +reckon ther’s no female from St. Ellis ken show <i>me</i>. I’ve bin a wife +an’ a mother, an’ raised my offsprings till they died. I did fer a man +as knew wot’s wot in my George D. An’ if I suffered fer it, it was +jest because I know’d my duty an’ did it, no matter the consequences +to me an’ mine. I tell you right here, an’ I’m a plain-spoken woman +who’s honest, as the sayin’ is, I turn out no house, nor room, nor +nothin’ of an afternoon. I know my duty an’ I do it. Ther’s a chapter +of the Bible fer every day o’ my life, an’ it needs digestin’ +good—with my dinner. An’ I don’t throw it up fer nobody.”</p> + +<p>“But—but——” Joan began to protest, but the other brushed objection +aside with an added flourish of her spoon.</p> + +<p>“It ain’t no use fer you to persuade, nor cajole, nor argify. What I +says goes fer jest so long as I’m willin’ to accept your ter’ble +ordinary wages, which I say right here won’t be fer a heap long time +if things don’t change some. I’m a respectable woman an’ wife that +was, but isn’t, more’s the pity, an’ it ain’t my way to chase around +the house a-screechin’ at the top o’ my voice jest as though I’d come +from a cirkis. You ain’t got your mind on your work. You ain’t got +your heart in it, singin’ all over the house, like—like one o’ them +brazen cirkis gals. No, nor wot with scallawags a-comin’ around +sparkin’ you, an’ the boys shootin’ theirselves dead over you, an’ +folks in the camp a-callin’ of you a Jony gal, I don’t guess I’ll need +to stay an’ receive con—contamination, as you might say. That’s how +I’m feelin’; an’ bein’ a plain woman, an’ a ’specterble widow of +George D., who was a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>man every inch of him, mind you, if he had his +failin’s, chasin’ other folks’ cattle, an’ not readin’ their brands +right, why, out it comes plump like a bad tooth you’re mighty glad to +be rid of, as the sayin’ is.”</p> + +<p>The woman turned back to her cooking. Her manner was gravely +disapproving, and she had managed to convey a sting which somehow hurt +Joan far more than she was willing to admit. Her refusal to undertake +the added work was merely churlish and disconcerting, but those other +remarks raised a decided anger not untouched by a feeling of shame and +hurt. But Joan did not give way to any of these feelings in her reply. +She did the only dignified thing possible.</p> + +<p>“You need not wait until your dissatisfaction with me overwhelms you, +Mrs. Ransford,” she said promptly. “I engaged you by the month, and I +shall be glad if you will leave me to-day month.” Then she added with +a shadow of reproach: “Really, I thought you were made of better +stuff.”</p> + +<p>But her attitude had a far different result to what she had expected. +She turned to go, preferring to avoid a further torrent of abuse from +the harsh old woman, when the spoon flourished in the air as the widow +of George D. swung round from her pots with an amazing alacrity.</p> + +<p>“You ain’t chasin’ me out, Miss Joan—ma’m?” she cried aghast, her +round eyes rolling in sudden distress. “Why, miss—ma’m, I never meant +no harm—that I didn’t. Y’ see I was jest sore hearin’ them sayin’ +things ’bout you in the camp, an’ you a-singin’ made me feel you +didn’t care nuthin’. An’ these scallawags a-comin’ around a-sassin’ +you, an’ a-kissin’ you, sort o’ set my blood boilin’. No, miss—ma’m, +you ain’t a-goin’ to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>chase me out! You wouldn’t now, would you?” she +appealed. “Jest say you won’t, an’ I’ll have the house turned sheer +upside down ’fore you know wher’ you are. There, jest think of it. You +may need some un to ke’p that scallawag Buck in his place. How you +goin’ to set about him without me around? I ain’t quittin’ this day +month, am I, miss—ma’m?”</p> + +<p>The old woman’s abject appeal was too much for Joan’s soft heart, and +her smiling eyes swiftly told the waiting penitent that the sentence +was rescinded. Instantly the shadow was lifted from the troubled face.</p> + +<p>“It was your own fault, Mrs. Ransford,” Joan said, struggling to +conceal her amusement. “However, if you want to stay——Well, I must +drive into the camp before dinner, and we’ll see about the little room +when I return.”</p> + +<p>“That we will, mum—miss. That we will,” cried the farm-wife in +cordial relief as Joan hurried out of the room.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Joan drew up at Beasley’s store just as that individual was preparing +to adjourn his labors for dinner. The man saw her coming from the door +of his newly-completed barn, and softly whistled to himself at the +sight of the slim, girlish figure sitting in the wagon behind the +heavy team of horses he had so long known as the Padre’s.</p> + +<p>This was only the third time he had seen the girl abroad in the camp, +and he wondered at the object of her visit now.</p> + +<p>Whatever malice he bore her, and his malice was of a nature only to be +understood by his warped mind, his admiration was none the less for +it. Not a detail of her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>appearance escaped his quick, lustful eyes. +Her dainty white shirt-waist was covered by the lightest of dust +coats, and her pretty face was shadowed by a wide straw hat which +protected it from the sun’s desperate rays. Her deeply-fringed eyes +shone out from the shade, and set the blood pulsing through the man’s +veins. He saw the perfect oval of her fair face, with its ripe, full +lips and delicate, small nose, so perfect in shape, so regular in its +setting under her broad open brow. Her wonderful hair, that +ruddy-tinted mass of burnished gold which was her most striking +feature, made him suck in a whistling breath of sensual appreciation. +Without a moment’s hesitation, hat in hand he went to meet her.</p> + +<p>As he came up his foxy eyes were alight with what he intended for a +grin of amiability. Whatever his peculiarly vindictive nature he was +more than ready to admit to himself the girl’s charms.</p> + +<p>“Say, Miss Golden,” he cried, purposely giving her the name the +popular voice had christened her, “it’s real pleasant of you to get +around. Guess the camp’s a mighty dull show without its lady citizens. +Maybe you’ll step right up into my storeroom. I got a big line of new +goods in from Leeson. Y’ see the saloon ain’t for such as you,” he +laughed. “Guess it does for the boys all right. I’m building a slap-up +store next—just dry goods an’ notions. Things are booming right now. +They’re booming so hard there’s no keepin’ pace. I’ll tie your hosses +to this post.”</p> + +<p>His manner was perfect in its amiability, but Joan detested it because +of the man. He could never disguise his personality, and Joan was +beginning to understand such personalities as his.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p><p>“Thanks,” she said coldly, as, taking advantage of his being occupied +with the horses, she jumped quickly from the vehicle. “I came to mail +a letter,” she said, as she moved on up to the big barn which was +Beasley’s temporary storehouse, “and to give you a rather large order +for furnishing and things.”</p> + +<p>She produced a paper with her list of requirements, and handed it to +him.</p> + +<p>“You see, I’m refurnishing the farm,” she went on, while the man +glanced an appreciative eye over the extensive order. “Can you do +those things?” she asked as he looked up from his perusal.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes. There’s nothing difficult there. What we can’t do here we +can send on to Leeson Butte for. I’ve got some elegant samples of +curtains just come along. Maybe you’ll step inside?”</p> + +<p>In spite of her dislike of the man Joan had no hesitation in passing +into the storeroom. She had no desire in the world to miss the joy of +inspecting a fresh consignment of dry goods. She felt almost as +excited, and quite as much interested, as though she were visiting one +of the great stores in St. Ellis.</p> + +<p>In a few moments she was lost in a close inspection of the display. +Nor had she any thought, or wonder, that here in the wilderness, on +the banks of Yellow Creek, such things should already have found their +way. For a long time the keen man of business expended his arts of +persuasion upon her, and, by the time the girl had exhausted his +stock, he had netted a sound order. His satisfaction was very evident, +and now he was prepared to regard her rather as a woman than a +customer.</p> + +<p>“Makes you think some,” he observed, with a wave of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>his hand in the +direction of the piled-up fabrics and unopened cases. Then he laughed +in a way that jarred upon the girl. “Ther’s money to burn here. Money! +Whew!” Then his eyes became serious. “If it only lasts!”</p> + +<p>“Why shouldn’t it?” asked Joan unsuspiciously. She had finished, and +was anxious to get away. But the man seemed to want to talk, and it +seemed churlish to deny him.</p> + +<p>Beasley shook his head, while his eyes devoured her appealing beauty.</p> + +<p>“It won’t,” he said decidedly. “It’s too big—too rich. Besides——”</p> + +<p>“Besides what?”</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes had lost their grin. They were the eyes of the real +man.</p> + +<p>“It’s—devil’s luck. I’ve said it all along. Only ther’s sech plaguey +knowalls around they won’t believe it. Buck now—I got nothing against +Buck. He’s a good citizen. But he’s got a streak o’ yeller in him, an’ +don’t hold with no devil’s luck. Maybe you remember.” He grinned +unpleasantly into the girl’s eyes.</p> + +<p>She remembered well enough. She was not likely to forget the manner in +which Buck had come to her help. She flushed slightly.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean by ‘a streak of yellow’?” she demanded coldly.</p> + +<p>“It don’t need a heap of explaining. He’s soft on mission talk.”</p> + +<p>Joan’s flush deepened. This man had a mean way of putting things.</p> + +<p>“If you mean that he doesn’t believe in—in superstitions, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>and that +sort of thing, if you mean he’s just a straightforward, +honest-thinking man—well, I agree with you.”</p> + +<p>Beasley was enjoying the spectacle of the warmth which prompted her +defense. She was devilish pretty, he admitted to himself.</p> + +<p>“Maybe you feel that way,” he said, in a tone that jarred. “Say,” he +went on shrewdly, “I’m no sucker, I’m not one of these slobs chasin’ +gold they’re eager to hand on to the first guy holdin’ out his hand. +I’m out to make a pile. I had a claim in the ballot. Maybe it’s a good +claim. I ain’t troubled to see. Why? I’ll tell you. Maybe I’d have +taken a few thousand dollars out of it. Maybe a heap. Maybe only a +little. Not good—with all these slobs around.” He shook his head. “I +figured I’d git the lot if I traded. I’d get the show of <i>all</i> of the +claims. See? The ‘strike’ ain’t goin’ to last. It’s a pocket in the +hill, an’ it’ll peter out just as dead sure as—well as can be. An’ +when it’s petered out there’s going to be jest one feller around here +who’s made a profit—an’ it ain’t one of those who used the +sluice-boxes. No, you can believe what you like. This ‘strike’ was +jest a devil’s laugh at folks who know no better. An’ master Buck has +handed you something of devil’s luck when he made you take that gold.”</p> + +<p>There was something very keen about this man, and in another Joan +might have admired it; but Beasley’s mind was tainted with such a +vicious meanness that admiration was impossible.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe it,” said Joan staunchly. “Neither does Buck. He +would never willingly hand me the trouble you suggest.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p><p>Her words were the result of an impetuous defense of the absent man. +To hear this man attack Buck was infuriating. But the moment she had +uttered them, the moment she had seen their effect, that meaning laugh +which they brought to the storekeeper’s lips, she wished they had +never been spoken.</p> + +<p>“Don’t guess Buck needs to scrap fer himself with you around, Miss +Golden,” he laughed. “Gee! He’s in luck. I wonder!”</p> + +<p>Joan choked back her swift-rising indignation. The man wasn’t worth +it, she told herself, and hurriedly prepared to depart. But Beasley +had no intention of letting her go like that.</p> + +<p>“I wonder whether he is in luck, though,” he went on quickly, in a +tone he knew the girl would not be able to resist. His estimate was +right. She made no further move to go.</p> + +<p>“How?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nuthin’ of consequence,” he said aggravatingly. “I was just +thinking of the way folks are talking.” Then he laughed right out; and +if Joan had only understood the man she would have known that his +merriment was but the precursor of something still more unpleasant.</p> + +<p>But such natures as his were quite foreign to her. She merely +instinctively disliked him.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” she asked unsuspiciously.</p> + +<p>Beasley was serious again, and wore an air of deprecation when he +answered her.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” he exclaimed, “’tain’t nuthin’. Y’ see folks are always most +ready to gas around. It’s ’bout them two boys. They’re hot about ’em. +Y’ see Pete was a mighty popular feller, an’ Ike had good friends. Y’ +see they were <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>always good spenders—an’ most folks like good +spenders. But ther’—’tain’t nuthin’ that needs tellin’ you. Guess +it’ll only make a dandy gal like you feel mean.”</p> + +<p>The man’s purpose must have been evident to anybody less simple than +Joan. As it was she jumped at the bait so skilfully held out.</p> + +<p>“But you must tell me,” she said, remembering Mrs. Ransford’s remarks. +“I insist on knowing if it is anything concerning me.”</p> + +<p>Beasley’s air was perfect. His eyes were as frankly regretful as he +could make them.</p> + +<p>“Wal,” he said, “it certainly does concern you—but I’d rather not say +it.”</p> + +<p>“Go on.”</p> + +<p>Joan’s face was coldly haughty.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t take it too mean,” said Beasley warningly. “I sure +wouldn’t. You see folks say a heap o’ things that is trash. They guess +it’s your doin’ ’bout them boys. They reckon you played ’em one ag’in +t’other for their wads, an’ both o’ them ag’in—Buck. Y’ see—mind I’m +jest tellin’ you cos you asked—they guess you ast ’em both to supper +that evenin’. Pete said he was ast, an’ Ike let on the same. You ast +’em both for the fun of the racket. An’ you had Buck around to watch +the fun. Yes, they’re pretty hot. An’ you can’t blame ’em, believin’ +as they do. One of ’em—I forget who it rightly was—he called you the +camp Jonah. Said just as long as you wer’ around ther’d be trouble. He +was all for askin’ you to clear right out. He said more than that, but +I don’t guess you need to know it all.”</p> + +<p>“But I do need to know it all. I need to know all they said, and—who +said it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p><p>Joan’s eyes were blazing. Beasley made no attempt to conceal his +satisfaction, and went on at once—</p> + +<p>“Course I can’t give you names. But the facts I don’t guess I’m likely +to forget—they made me so riled. They said that farm of yours was +just a blind. It—it was—well, you’d come along here for all you +could get—an’ that——”</p> + +<p>Joan cut him short.</p> + +<p>“That’s enough,” she cried. “You needn’t tell me any more. I—I +understand. Oh, the brutal, heartless ruffians! Tell me. Who was it +said these things? I demand to know. I insist on the names. Oh!”</p> + +<p>The girl’s exasperation was even greater than Beasley had hoped for. +He read, too, the shame and hurt underlying it, and his satisfaction +was intense. He felt that he was paying her off for some of the +obvious dislike she had always shown him, and it pleased him as it +always pleased him when his mischief went home. But now, having +achieved his end, he promptly set about wriggling clear of +consequences, which was ever his method.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to give you the names,” he said frankly. “But I can’t. You +see, when fellers are drunk they say things they don’t mean, an’ it +wouldn’t be fair to give them away. I jest told you so you’d be on +your guard—just to tell you the folks are riled. But it ain’t as bad +as it seems. I shut ’em up quick, feeling that no decent citizen could +stand an’ hear a pretty gal slandered like that. An’ I’ll tell you +this, Miss Golden, you owe me something for the way I made ’em quit. +Still,” he added, with a leer, “I don’t need payment. You see, I was +just playin’ the game.”</p> + +<p>Joan was still furious. And somehow his wriggling did not ring true +even in her simple ears.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p><p>“Then you won’t tell me who it was?” she cried.</p> + +<p>Beasley shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Nuthin’ doin’,” he said facetiously.</p> + +<p>“Then you—you are a despicable coward,” she cried. “You—oh!” And she +almost fled out of the hated creature’s storeroom.</p> + +<p>Beasley looked after her. The satisfaction had gone from his eyes, +leaving them wholly vindictive.</p> + +<p>“Coward, am I, ma’m!” he muttered. Then he looked at the order for +furniture which was still in his hand.</p> + +<p>The sight of it made him laugh.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>BUCK LAUGHS AT FATE</h3> + +<p>The telling of the Padre’s story cost Buck a wakeful night. It was not +that he had any doubts either of the truth of the story, or of his +friend. He needed no evidence to convince him of either. Or rather, +such was his nature that no evidence could have broken his faith and +friendship. Strength and loyalty were the key-note of his whole life. +To him the Padre was little less than a god, in whom nothing could +shake his belief. He honored him above all men in the world, and, such +as it was, his own life, his strength, his every nerve, were at his +service. Moreover, it is probable that his loyalty would have been no +whit the less had the man pleaded guilty to the crime he was accused +of.</p> + +<p>No, it was not the story he had listened to which kept him wakeful. It +was not the rights or wrongs, or the significance of it, that inspired +his unrest. It was something of a far more personal note.</p> + +<p>It was the full awakening of a mind and heart to a true understanding +of themselves. And the manner of his awakening had been little short +of staggering. He loved, and his love had risen up before his eyes in +a manner the full meaning of which he had only just realized. It was +his friend who had brought about his awakening, his friend who had put +into brief words that which had been to him nothing but a delicious +dream.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p><p>The man’s words rang through his brain the night long.</p> + +<p>“Why? Why?” they said. “Because you love this little Joan, daughter of +my greatest friend. Because I owe it to you—to her, to face my +accusers and prove my innocence.”</p> + +<p>That brief passionate declaration had changed the whole outlook of his +life. The old days, the old thoughts, the old unexpressed feelings and +hazy ambitions had gone—swept away in one wave of absorbing passion. +There was neither future nor past to him now. He lived in the thought +of this woman’s delightful presence, and beyond that he could see +nothing.</p> + +<p>Vaguely he knew that much must lay before him. The past, well, that +was nothing. He understood that the drift of life’s stream could no +longer carry him along without his own effort at guidance. He knew +that somewhere beyond this dream a great battle of Life lay waiting +for his participation. He felt that henceforth he was one of those +struggling units he had always regarded as outside his life. And all +because of this wonderful sunlight of love which shone deep into the +remotest cells of brain and heart. He felt strong for whatever lay +before him. This perfect sunshine, so harmonious with every feeling, +thrilled him with a virile longing to go out and proclaim his defiance +against the waiting hordes in Life’s eternal battle. No road could be +so rough as to leave him shrinking, no fight so fierce that he was not +confident of victory, no trouble so great that it could not be borne +with perfect cheerfulness. As he had awakened to love so had he +awakened to life, yearning and eager.</p> + +<p>As the long night wore on his thought became clearer, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>more definite. +So that before his eyes closed at last in a broken slumber he came to +many decisions for the immediate future. The greatest, the most +momentous of these was that he must see Joan again without delay. He +tried to view this in perfect coolness, but though the decision +remained with him the fever of doubt and despair seized him, and he +became the victim of every fear known to the human lover’s heart. To +him who had never known the meaning of fear his dread became tenfold +appalling. He must see her—and perhaps for the last time in his life. +This interview might well terminate once and for all every thought of +earthly happiness, and fling him back upon the meagre solace of a +wilderness, which now, without Joan, would be desolation indeed.</p> + +<p>Yet he knew that the chances must be faced now and at once. For +himself he would probably have delayed, rather basking in the sunshine +of uncertainty than risk witnessing the swift gathering clouds which +must rob him of all light forever. But he was not thinking only of +himself. There was that other, that white-haired, lonely man who had +said, “Because you love this little Joan.”</p> + +<p>The wonderful unselfishness of the Padre had a greater power to stir +Buck’s heart than any other appeal. His sacrifice must not be +permitted without a struggle. He knew the man, and he knew how useless +mere objection would be. Therefore his duty lay plain before him. Joan +must decide, and on her decision must his plans all be founded. He had +no reason to hope for a return of his love. On the contrary, it seemed +absurd even to hope, and in such an event then the Padre’s sacrifice +would be unnecessary. If on the other hand—but he dared not let the +thought take shape. All he knew was that with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>Joan at his side no +power of law should touch one single white hair of the Padre’s head, +while the breath of life remained in his body.</p> + +<p>It was a big thought in the midst of the most selfish of human +passions. It was a thought so wide, that, in every aspect, it spoke of +the great world which had been this man’s lifelong study. It told of +sublime lessons well learned. Of a mind and heart as big, and broad, +and loyal as was the book from which the lessons had been studied.</p> + +<p>With the morning light came a further steadiness of decision. But with +it also came an added apprehension, and lack of mental peace. The +world was radiant about him with the wonder of his love, but his +horizon was lost in a mist of uncertainty and even dread.</p> + +<p>The morning dragged as such intervening hours ever drag, but at length +they were done with, and the momentous time arrived. Neither he nor +the Padre had referred again to their talk. That was their way. Nor +did any question pass between them until Cæsar stood saddled before +the door.</p> + +<p>The Padre was leaning against the door casing with his pipe in his +mouth. His steady eyes were gravely thoughtful.</p> + +<p>“Where you making this afternoon?” he inquired, as Buck swung into the +saddle.</p> + +<p>Buck nodded in the direction of Joan’s home.</p> + +<p>“The farm.”</p> + +<p>The Padre’s eyes smiled kindly.</p> + +<p>“Good luck,” he said. And Buck nodded his thanks as he rode away.</p> + +<p>But Buck’s outward calm was studied. For once in his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>life his +confidence had utterly failed him. He rode over the trail in a dazed +condition which left him almost hopeless by the time he reached the +familiar corrals of the girl’s home. As a consequence he reduced +Cæsar’s pace to a walk with something almost childlike in his desire +to postpone what he now felt must be his farewell to the wonderful +dream that had been his.</p> + +<p>But even at a walk the journey must come to an end. In his case it +came all too soon for his peace of mind, and, to his added disquiet, +he found himself at the door of the old barn. Just for one moment he +hesitated. Then he lightly dropped to the ground. The next moment the +horse itself had taken the initiative. With none of its master’s +scruples it clattered into the barn, and, walking straight into its +old familiar stall, commenced to search in the corners of the manger +for the sweet-scented hay usually awaiting it.</p> + +<p>The lead was irresistible to the man. He followed the creature in, +removed its bridle and loosened the cinchas of the saddle. Then he +went out in search of hay.</p> + +<p>His quest occupied several minutes. But finally he returned with an +ample armful and filled up the manger. Then came upon him a further +avalanche of doubt, and he stood beside his horse, stupidly smoothing +the beautiful creature’s warm, velvet neck while it nuzzled its +fodder.</p> + +<p>“Why—is that you, Buck?”</p> + +<p>The exclamation startled the man out of his reverie and set his pulses +hammering madly. He turned to behold Joan framed in the doorway. For a +moment he stared stupidly at her, his dark eyes almost fearful. Then +his answer came quietly, distinctly, and without a tremor to betray +the feelings which really stirred him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p><p>“It surely is,” he said. Then he added, “I didn’t know I was coming +along when you were up at the fort yesterday.”</p> + +<p>But Joan was thinking only how glad she was of his coming. His +explanation did not matter in the least. She had been home from the +camp something over an hour, and had seen some one ride up to the barn +without recognizing Buck or the familiar Cæsar. So she had hastened to +investigate. Something of her gladness at sight of him was in the +manner of her greeting now, and Buck’s despondency began to fall from +him as he realized her unfeigned pleasure.</p> + +<p>“I’m so glad you came,” Joan went on impulsively. “So glad, so glad. +I’ve been in camp to order things for—for my aunt’s coming. You know +your Padre told me to send for her. I mailed the letter this morning.”</p> + +<p>“You—sent for your aunt?”</p> + +<p>In a moment the whole hideous position of the Padre came upon him, +smothering all his own personal feelings, all his pleasure, all his +doubts and fears.</p> + +<p>“Why—yes.” Joan’s eyes opened wide in alarm. “Have I done wrong? He +said, send for her.”</p> + +<p>Buck shook his head and moved out of the stall.</p> + +<p>“You sure done dead right. The Padre said it.”</p> + +<p>“Then what was the meaning in your—what you said?”</p> + +<p>Buck smiled.</p> + +<p>“Nothing—just nothing.”</p> + +<p>Joan eyed him a moment in some doubt. Then she passed the matter over, +and again the pleasure at his coming shone forth.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Buck,” she cried, “there are some mean people <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>in the world. I’ve +been talking to that horror, Beasley. He is a horror, isn’t he? He’s +been telling me something of the talk of the camp. He’s been telling +me how—how popular I am,” she finished up with a mirthless laugh.</p> + +<p>“Popular? I—I don’t get you.”</p> + +<p>Buck’s whole expression had changed at the mention of Beasley’s name. +Joan had no reason to inquire his opinion of the storekeeper.</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t,” she hastened on. “You could never understand such +wicked meanness as that man is capable of. I’m sure he hates me, and +only told me these—these things to make me miserable. And I was +feeling so happy, too, after seeing your Padre,” she added +regretfully.</p> + +<p>“An’ what are the things he’s been sayin’?”</p> + +<p>Buck’s jaws were set.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I can’t tell you what he said, except—except that the men think +I’m responsible for the death of those two. The other things were too +awful. It seems I’m—I’m the talk of the camp in—in an awful way. He +says they hate me. But I believe it’s simply him. You see, he’s tried +to—to ingratiate himself with me—oh, it’s some time back, and +I—well, I never could stand him, after that time when the boys gave +me the gold. I wish they had never given me that gold. He still +persists it’s unlucky, and I—I’m beginning to think so, too.”</p> + +<p>“Did he—insult you?” Buck asked sharply, ignoring the rest.</p> + +<p>Joan looked quickly into the man’s hot eyes, and in that moment +realized the necessity for prudence. The fierce spirit was shining +there. That only partly tamed spirit, which made her so glad when she +thought of it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” she said. “It wasn’t that he insulted me. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>No—no. Don’t +think that. Only he went out of his way to tell me these things, to +make me miserable. I was angry then, but I’ve got over it now. It—it +doesn’t matter. You see I just told you because—because——”</p> + +<p>“If that man insulted you, I’d—kill him!”</p> + +<p>Buck had drawn nearer to her. His tall figure was leaning forward, and +his eyes, so fiercely alight, burned down into hers in a manner that +half frightened her, yet carried with it a feeling that thrilled her +heart with an almost painful delight. There was something so magnetic +in this man’s outburst, something so sweeping to her responsive +nature. It was almost as though he had taken her in his two strong +hands and made her yield obedience to his dominating will. It gave her +a strange and wonderful confidence. It made her feel as if this power +of his must possess the same convincing strength for the rest of the +world. That he must sway all who came into contact with him. Her +gladness at his visit increased. It was good to feel that he was near +at hand.</p> + +<p>But her woman’s mind sought to restrain him.</p> + +<p>“Please—please don’t talk like that,” she said, in a tone that +carried no real conviction. “No, Beasley would not dare insult me—for +himself.”</p> + +<p>The girl drew back to the oat-box, and seated herself. Buck’s moment +of passion had brought a deep flush to his cheeks, and his dark eyes +moved restlessly.</p> + +<p>“Why did you tell me?”</p> + +<p>There was no escaping the swift directness of this man’s mind. His +question came with little less force than had been his threat against +Beasley. He was still lashed by his thought of the wretched +saloon-keeper.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p><p>But Joan had no answer ready. Why had she told him? She knew. She knew +in a vague sort of way. She had told him because she had been sure of +his sympathy. She had told him because she knew his strength, and to +lean on that always helped her. Without questioning herself, or her +feelings, she had come to rely upon him in all things.</p> + +<p>But his sharp interrogation had given her pause. She repeated his +question to herself, and somehow found herself avoiding his gaze. +Somehow she could give him no answer.</p> + +<p>Buck chafed for a moment in desperate silence. He turned his hot eyes +toward the door, and stared out at the distant hills. Cæsar rattled +his collar chain, and scattered the hay in his search for the choicest +morsels. The heavy draft horses were slumbering where they stood. +Presently the man’s eyes came back to the girl, devouring the beauty +of her still averted face.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he went on presently, “you never felt so that your head would +burst, so that the only thing worth while doin’ would be to kill some +one?” He smiled. “That’s how I feel, when I know Beasley’s been +talkin’ to you.”</p> + +<p>Joan turned to him with a responsive smile. She was glad he was +talking again. A strange discomfort, a nervousness not altogether +unpleasant had somehow taken hold of her, and the sound of his voice +relieved her.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>“No,” she said frankly. “I—don’t think I ever feel that way. But I +don’t like Beasley.”</p> + +<p>Buck’s heat had passed. He laughed.</p> + +<p>“That was sure a fool question to ask,” he said. “Say, it ’ud be like +askin’ a dove to get busy with a gun.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p><p>“I’ve heard doves are by no means the gentle creatures popular belief +would have them.”</p> + +<p>“Guess ther’s doves—an’ doves,” Buck said enigmatically. “I can’t +jest see you bustin’ to hurt a fly.”</p> + +<p>“Not even Beasley?”</p> + +<p>Joan laughed slily.</p> + +<p>But Buck ignored the challenge. He stirred restlessly. He thrust his +fingers into the side pockets of the waist-coat he wore hanging open. +He withdrew them, and shifted his feet. Then, with a sudden, impatient +movement, he thrust his slouch hat back from his forehead.</p> + +<p>“Guess I can’t say these things right,” he gulped out with a swift, +impulsive rush. “What I want to say is that’s how I feel when anything +happens amiss your way. I want to say it don’t matter if it’s Beasley, +or—or jest things that can’t be helped. I want to get around and set +’em right for you——”</p> + +<p>Joan’s eyes were startled. A sudden pallor had replaced the smile on +her lips, and drained the rich, warm color from her cheeks.</p> + +<p>“You’ve always done those things for me, Buck,” she interrupted him +hastily. “You’ve been the kindest—the best——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t say those things,” Buck broke in with a hardly restrained +passion. “It hurts to hear ’em. Kindest? Best? Say, when a man feels +same as me, words like them hurt, hurt right in through here,” he +tapped his chest with an awkward gesture. “They drive a man nigh +crazy. A man don’t want to hear them from the woman he loves. Yes, +loves!”</p> + +<p>The man’s dark eyes were burning, and as the girl rose from her seat +he reached out one brown hand to detain <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>her. But his gesture was +needless. She made no move to go. She stood before him, her proud +young face now flushing, now pale with emotion, her wonderful eyes +veiled lest he should read in their depths feelings that she was +struggling to conceal. Her rounded bosom rose and fell with the +furious beatings of a heart she could not still.</p> + +<p>“No, no,” the man rushed on, “you got to hear me, if it makes you hate +me fer the rest of your life. I’m nothing but jest a plain feller +who’s lived all his life in this back country. I’ve got no education, +nothin’ but jest what I am—here. An’ I love you, I love you like +nothing else in all the world. Say,” he went on, the first hot rush of +his words checking, “I bin gropin’ around these hills learning all +that’s bin set there for me to learn. I tried to learn my lessons +right. I done my best. But this one thing they couldn’t teach me. +Something which I guess most every feller’s got to learn some time. +An’ you’ve taught me that.</p> + +<p>“Say.” The restraint lost its power, and the man’s great passion swept +him on in a swift torrent. “I never knew a gal since I was raised. I +never knew how she could git right hold of your heart, an’ make the +rest of the world seem nothing. I never knew how jest one woman could +set the sun shining when her blue eyes smiled, and the storm of +thunder crowding over, when those eyes were full of tears. I never +dreamed how she could get around in fancy, and walk by your side +smilin’ and talkin’ to you when you wandered over these lonesome hills +at your work. I never knew how she could come along an’ raise you up +when you’re down, an’ most everything looks black. I’ve learned these +things now. I’ve learned ’em because you taught me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p><p>He laughed with a sort of defiance at what he felt must sound +ridiculous in her ears. “You asked me to teach you! Me teach you! Say, +it’s you taught me—everything. It’s you taught me life ain’t just a +day’s work an’ a night’s sleep. It’s you taught me that life’s a +wonderful, wonderful dream of joy an’ delight. It’s you taught me the +sun’s shining just for <i>me</i> alone, an’ every breath of these mountains +is just to make <i>me</i> feel good. It’s you taught me to feel there’s +nothing on God’s earth I couldn’t and wouldn’t do to make you happy. +You, who taught me to Live! You, with your wonderful blue eyes, an’ +your beautiful, beautiful face. You, with your mind as white an’ pure +as the mountain snow, an’ your heart as precious as the gold our folks +are forever chasin’. I love you, Joan. I love you, every moment I +live. I love you so my two hands ain’t enough by a hundred to get +helping you. I love you better than all the world. You’re jest—jest +my whole life!”</p> + +<p>He stood with his arms outstretched toward the shrinking girl. His +whole body was shaking with the passion that had sent his words +pouring in a tide of unthought, unconsidered appeal. He had no +understanding of whither his words had carried him. All he knew was +that he loved this girl with his whole soul and body. That she could +love him in return was something unbelievable, yet he must tell her. +He must tell her all that was in his simple heart.</p> + +<p>He waited. It seemed ages, but in reality it was only moments.</p> + +<p>Presently Joan looked up. She raised her eyes timidly, and in a moment +Buck saw that they were filled with unshed tears. He started forward, +but she shrank back <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>farther. But it was not with repugnance. Her +movement was almost reluctant, yet it was decided. It was sufficient +for the man, and slowly, hopelessly he dropped his arms to his sides +as the girl’s voice so full of distress at last broke the silence.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Buck, Buck, why—oh, why have you said these things to me? You +don’t know what you have done. Oh, it was cruel of you.”</p> + +<p>“Cruel?” Buck started. The color faded from his cheeks. “Me cruel—to +you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes. Don’t you understand? Can’t you see? Now—now there is +nothing left but—disaster. Oh, to think that I should have brought +this upon you—you of all men!”</p> + +<p>Buck’s eyes suddenly lit. Unversed as he was in all such matters, he +was not blind to the feeling underlying her words. But the light +swiftly died from his eyes as he beheld the great tears roll slowly +down the girl’s fair cheeks, and her face droop forward into her +hands.</p> + +<p>In a moment all restraint was banished in the uprising of his great +love. Without a thought of consequences he bridged the intervening +space at one step, and, in an instant, his arms were about the slim, +yielding figure he so tenderly loved. In a moment his voice, low, +tender, yet wonderful in its consoling strength, was encouraging her.</p> + +<p>“Disaster?” he said. “Disaster because I love you? Where? How? Say, +there’s no disaster in my love for you. There can’t be. All I ask, all +I need is jest to make your path—easier. Your troubles ain’t yours +any longer. They sure ain’t. They’re mine, now, if you’ll jest hand +’em to me. Disaster? No, no, little gal. Don’t you to cry. Don’t. Your +eyes weren’t made for cryin’. They’re <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>jest given you to be a man’s +hope. For you to see just how much love he’s got for you.”</p> + +<p>Joan submitted to his embrace for just so long as he was speaking. +Then she looked up with terrified eyes and released herself.</p> + +<p>“No, no, Buck. I must not listen. I dare not. It is my fate. My +terrible fate. You don’t understand. Beasley was right. I <i>was</i> +responsible for Ike’s death. For Pete’s death. But not in the way he +meant. It is my curse. They loved me, and—disaster followed +instantly. Can’t you see? Can’t you see? Oh, my dear, can’t you see +that this same disaster must dog you—now?”</p> + +<p>Buck stared. Then he gathered himself together.</p> + +<p>“Your fate?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes. I am cursed. Oh,” Joan suddenly gave a shrill laugh that +was painful to hear. “Every man that has ever told me—what you have +told me—has met with disaster, and—death.”</p> + +<p>For one second no sound broke the stillness of the barn but the +restless movements of Cæsar. Then, suddenly, a laugh, a clear, buoyant +laugh, full of defiance, full of incredulity, rang through the +building.</p> + +<p>It was Buck. He moved forward, and in a moment the girl was lying +close upon his breast.</p> + +<p>“Is that the reason you mustn’t, daren’t, listen to me?” he cried, in +a voice thrilling with hope and confidence. “Is that the only reason? +Jest because of death an’ disaster to me? Jest that, an’—nothing +more? Tell me, little gal. Tell me or—or I’ll go mad.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes. But oh, you don’t——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do. Say, Joan, my little, little gal. Tell me. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>Tell me right +now. You ain’t—hatin’ me for—for loving you so bad. Tell me.”</p> + +<p>Joan hid her face, and the tall man had to bend low to catch her +words.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t hate you, Buck. I—I——”</p> + +<p>But Buck heard no more. He almost forcibly lifted the beautiful, +tearful face to his, as he bent and smothered it with kisses.</p> + +<p>After a few moments he stood her away from him, holding her slight +shoulders, one in each hand. His dark eyes were glowing with a wild +happiness, a wonderful, reckless fire, as he peered into her blushing +face.</p> + +<p>“You love me, little gal? You love me? Was ther’ ever such a thought +in the mind of sane man? You love me? The great big God’s been mighty +good to me. Disaster? Death? Let all the powers of man or devil come +along, an’ I’ll drive ’em back to the hell they belong to.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>IRONY</h3> + +<p>The hills roll away, banking on every side, mounting up, pile on pile, +like the mighty waves of a storm-swept ocean. The darkening splendor, +the magnificent ruggedness crowds down upon the narrow open places +with a strange sense of oppression, almost of desolation. It seems as +if nothing on earth could ever be so great as that magnificent world, +nothing could ever be so small as the life which peoples it.</p> + +<p>The oppression, the desolation grows. The silent shadows of the +endless woods crowd with a suggestion of horrors untold, of mysteries +too profound to be even guessed at. A strange feeling as of a reign of +enchantment pervading sets the flesh of the superstitious creeping. +And the narrow, patchy sunlight, by its brilliant contrast, only +serves to aggravate the sensitive nerves.</p> + +<p>Yet in the woods lurk few enough dangers. It is only their dark +stillness. They are still, still in the calm of the brightest day, or +in the chill of a windless night. A timid bear, a wolf who spends its +desolate life in dismal protest against a solitary fate, the crashing +rush of a startled caribou, the deliberate bellow of a bull moose, +strayed far south from its northern fastnesses. These are the harmless +creatures peopling the obscure recesses. For the rest, they are the +weird suggestions of a sensitive imagination.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p><p>The awe, however, is undeniable and the mind of man can never wholly +escape it. Familiarity may temper, but inborn human superstition is +indestructible. The brooding silence will shadow the lightest nature. +The storms must ever inspire wonder. The gloom hushes the voice. And +so the growing dread. Man may curse the hills in his brutal moments, +the thoughtful may be driven to despair, the laughter-loving may seek +solace in tears of depression. But the fascination clings. There is no +escape. The cloy of the seductive drug holds to that world of mystery, +and they come to it again, and yet again.</p> + +<p>Something of all this was vaguely drifting through the mind of one of +the occupants of a four-horsed, two-wheeled spring cart as it rose +upon the monstrous shoulder of one of the greater hills. Before it lay +a view of a dark and wild descent, sloping away unto the very bowels +of a pit of gloom. The trail was vague and bush-grown, and crowding +trees dangerously narrowed it. To the right the hill fell sharply away +at the edge of the track, an abyss that might well have been +bottomless for aught that could be seen from above. To the left the +crown of the hill rose sheer and barren, and only at its foot grew the +vegetation that so perilously narrowed the track. Then, ahead, where +the trail vanished, a misty hollow, dark and deep—the narrowing walls +of a black canyon.</p> + +<p>The blue eyes of the teamster were troubled. Was there ever such a +country for white man to travel? His horses were jaded. Their lean +sides were tuckered. Gray streaks of sweat scored them from shoulder +to flank.</p> + +<p>The man lolled heavily in his driving seat in the manner <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>of the +prairie teamster. He knew there was trouble ahead, but it was +practically all he did know of the journey before him.</p> + +<p>As the cart topped the rise he bestirred himself. His whip flicked the +air without touching the horses, and he chirrupped encouragingly. The +weary but willing creatures raised their drooping heads, their ribs +expanded as they drew their “tugs” taut, and, at a slow, shuffling +trot, they began the descent.</p> + +<p>A voice from behind caused the man to glance swiftly over his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“It’s no use asking you where we are now, I suppose?” it said in a +peevish tone.</p> + +<p>But the teamster’s mood was its match.</p> + +<p>“Not a heap, I guess, ma’m,” he retorted, and gave up his attention to +avoiding the precipice on his right.</p> + +<p>“How far is the place supposed to be?”</p> + +<p>The woman’s unease was very evident. Her eyes were upon the darkening +walls of the canyon toward which they were traveling.</p> + +<p>“Eighty miles from Crowsfoot. That’s how the boss said, anyways.”</p> + +<p>“How far have we come now?”</p> + +<p>The man laughed. There seemed to be something humorous in his +passenger’s inquiries.</p> + +<p>“Crowsfoot to Snarth’s farm, thirty-five miles, good. Snarth’s to +Rattler Head, thirty. Sixty-five. Fifteen into this precious camp on +Yellow Creek. Guess we bin comin’ along good since sun-up, an’ now +it’s noon. Countin’ our stop fer breakfast we ought to make thirty odd +miles. Guess we come a good hundred.” He laughed again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p><p>The woman gave an exclamation of impatience and vexation.</p> + +<p>“I think your employer ought to be ashamed of himself sending you to +do the journey. You don’t know where you are, or what direction we’re +going in. The horses are nearly foundered, and we may be miles and +miles from our destination. What are you going to do?”</p> + +<p>“Ke’p goin’ jest as long as the hosses ken ke’p foot to the ground. +Guess we’ll ease ’em at the bottom, here. It’s nigh feed time. Say, +ma’m, it ain’t no use worritin’. We’ll git som’eres sure. The sun’s +dead ahead.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the use of that?” Mercy Lascelles snapped at the man’s easy +acceptance of the situation. “I wish now I’d come by Leeson Butte.”</p> + +<p>“That’s sure how the boss said,” retorted the man. “The Leeson trail +is the right one. It’s a good trail, an’ I know most every inch of it. +You was set comin’ round through the hills. Guessed you’d had enough +prairie on the railroad. It’s up to you. Howsum, we’ll make somewheres +by nightfall. Seems to me I got a notion o’ that hill, yonder. That +one, out there,” he went on, pointing with his whip at a bald, black +cone rising in the distance against the sky. “That kind o’ seems like +the peak o’ Devil’s Hill. I ain’t jest sure, but it seems like.”</p> + +<p>Mercy looked in the direction. Her eyes were more angry than anxious, +yet anxiety was her principal feeling.</p> + +<p>“I hope to goodness it is. Devil’s Hill. A nice name. That’s where the +camp is, isn’t it? I wish you’d hurry on.”</p> + +<p>The teamster spat over the dashboard. A grim smile crept into his +eyes. His passenger had worried him with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>troublesome questions all +the journey, and he had long since given up cursing his boss for +sending him on the job.</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t no use,” he said shortly. Then he explained. “Y’ see, it ’ud +be easy droppin’ over the side of this. Guess you ain’t yearnin’ fer +glory that way?”</p> + +<p>“We’ll never get in at this pace,” the woman cried impatiently.</p> + +<p>But the teamster was losing patience, too. Suddenly he became very +polite, and his pale blue eyes smiled mischievously down upon his +horses’ backs.</p> + +<p>“Guess we don’t need to hurry a heap, ma’m,” he said. “Y’ see, in +these hills you never can tell. Now we’re headin’ fer that yer canyon. +Maybe the trail ends right ther’.”</p> + +<p>“Good gracious, man, then what are we going to do?”</p> + +<p>“Do? Why, y’ see, ma’m, we’ll have to break a fresh trail—if that +dogone holler ain’t one o’ them bottomless muskegs,” he added +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>He flicked his whip and spat again. His passenger’s voice rose to a +sharp staccato.</p> + +<p>“Then for goodness’ sake why go on?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“Wal, y’ see, you can’t never tell till you get ther’ in these hills. +Maybe that canyon is a river, an’ if so the entrance to it’s nigh sure +a muskeg. A bottomless muskeg. You seen ’em, ain’t you? No? Wal, +they’re swamps, an’ if we get into one, why, I guess ther’s jest Hail +Columby, or some other fool thing waitin’ for us at the bottom. Still +ther’ mayn’t be no muskeg. As I sez, you never can tell, tho’ ther’ +most gener’ly is. Mebbe that’s jest a blank wall without no trail. +Mebbe this trail ends at a sheer drop of a few hundred feet an’ more. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>Mebbe agin the trail peters out ’fore we get ther’. That’s the way in +these yer hills, ma’m; you never can tell if you get lost. An’ gittin’ +lost is so mighty easy. Course we ain’t likely to starve till we’ve +eat up these yer dogone ol’ hosses. Never eaten hoss? No? ’Tain’t so +bad. Course water’s easy, if you don’t light on one o’ them fever +swamps. Mountain fever’s pretty bad. Still, I don’t guess we’ll git +worried that way, ma’m. I’d sure say you’re pretty tough fer mountain +fever to git a holt of. It’s the time that’s the wust. It might take +us weeks gittin’ out,—once you git lost proper. But even so I don’t +guess ther’s nothin’ wuss than timber wolves to worry us. They’re +mean. Y’ see they’re nigh allus starvin’—or guess they are. B’ars +don’t count a heap, less you kind o’ run into ’em at breedin’ season. +Le’s see, this is August. No, ’tain’t breedin’ season.” He sighed as +if relieved. Then he stirred quickly and glanced round, his face +perfectly serious. “Guess you got a gun? It’s allus good to hev a gun +round. You never ken tell in these yer hills—when you git lost +proper.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’re a perfect fool. Go on with your driving.” Mercy sat back +in her seat fuming, while the teamster sighed, gently smiling down at +his horses.</p> + +<p>“Mebbe you’re right, ma’m,” he said amiably. “These dogone hills makes +fools o’ most fellers, when they git lost proper—as I’d sure say we +are now.”</p> + +<p>But the man had achieved his object. The woman desisted from further +questioning. She sat quite still, conscious of the unpleasant fact +that the man was laughing at her, and also perfectly aware that his +incompetence was responsible for the fact that they were utterly lost +amongst the wild hills about them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p><p>She was very angry. Angry with the man, angry with herself, for not +being guided by the hotel keeper at Crowsfoot, but more than all she +was angry with Joan for bidding her make the journey.</p> + +<p>Yet she had been unable to resist the girl’s appeal. Her inability was +not from any sentimental feeling or sympathy. Such feelings could +never touch her. But the appeal of the manner in which her curse still +followed the girl, and the details she had read through the lines of +her letter, a letter detailing the circumstances of her life on Yellow +Creek, and written under the impulse and hope inspired by the Padre’s +support had given her the keenest interest. All the mystical side of +her nature had been stirred in a manner she could not deny, had no +desire to deny.</p> + +<p>Yes, she had come to investigate, to observe, to seek the truth of her +own pronouncement. She had come without scruple, to watch their +effect. To weigh them in the balance of her scientific mysticism. She +had come to watch the struggles of the young girl in the toils which +enveloped her. Her mind was the diseased mind of the fanatic, prompted +by a nature in which cruelty held chief place.</p> + +<p>But now had come this delay. Such was her nature that personal danger +ever appalled her. Death and disaster in the abstract were nothing to +her, but their shadows brushing her own person was something more than +terrifying. And as she thought of the immensity of the world about +her, the gloom, the awful hush, the spirit of the hills got hold of +her and left her full of apprehension.</p> + +<p>The teamster now devoted his whole attention to his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>whereabouts. His +passenger’s interminable questioning silenced, he felt more at his +ease. And feeling at his ease he was able to bring his prairie-trained +faculties to bear on the matter in hand. As they progressed down the +slope he closely observed the tall, distant crown which he thought he +recognized, and finally made up his mind that his estimate was right. +It certainly was the cone crown of Devil’s Hill. Thus his certainty +now only left him concerned with the ultimate development of the trail +they were on.</p> + +<p>It was quite impossible to tell what that might be. The road seemed to +be making directly for the mouth of the canyon, and yet all his +experience warned him that such a destination would be unusual. It +must turn away. Yet where? How?</p> + +<p>He searched ahead on the hillside above him for a modification of its +slope. And a long way ahead he fancied he detected such an indication. +But even so, the modification was so slight that there seemed little +enough hope.</p> + +<p>He kept on with dogged persistence. To return was not to be thought of +yet. Any approach to vacillation now would be quite fatal.</p> + +<p>The trail was fading out to little more than a double cattle track, +and the farther he looked along it the more indistinct it seemed to +become. Yet it continued, and the ever downward slope went on, and on.</p> + +<p>His anxious eyes were painfully alert. Where? Where? He was asking +himself with every jog of his weary horses. Then all of a sudden his +questions ceased, and a decided relief leapt into his eyes as he drew +his horses up to a halt.</p> + +<p>He turned to his passenger and pointed with his whip <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>at the hill +abreast of them, his eyes undoubtedly witnessing his relief.</p> + +<p>“See that, ma’m?” he cried. And Mercy beheld a narrow, rough flight of +steps cut in the face of the hill. Each step was deliberately +protected with a timber facing securely staked against “washouts,” and +though the workmanship was rough it was evidently the handiwork of men +who thought only of endurance. It rose from the trail-side in a +slanting direction, and, adopting the easiest course on the slope, +wound its way to the very crown of the hill, over the top of which it +vanished.</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>The woman’s inquiry was ungracious enough.</p> + +<p>“Why, that’s the meanin’ o’ this yer trail.” The man pointed above. +“That sure leads somewheres.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it does.”</p> + +<p>Mercy snapped her reply.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said the man. “There’s shelter up ther’, anyways. An’ by the +looks o’ them steps I’d say folks is livin’ ther’ right now.”</p> + +<p>“Then for goodness’ sake go up and see, and don’t sit there wasting +time. I never had to deal with such a perfect fool in my life. Pass +the reins over to me, and I’ll wait here.”</p> + +<p>The man grinned. But instead of handing her the reins he secured them +to the iron rail of the cart.</p> + +<p>“Guess them hosses know best wot to do ’emselves,” he observed +quietly, as he scrambled from the cart. “Best let ’em stand +theirselves, ma’m,—you never know wot’s along the end of that +trail—muskegs is——” His final jibe was lost in a deep-throated +chuckle as he began the steep ascent before him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p><p>Mercy watched him with angry eyes. The man added impertinence to his +foolishness, and the combination was altogether too much for her +temper. But for the fact that she required his services, she would +well have wished that he might fall and break his neck. But her chief +concern was to reach her destination, so she watched him climb the +long steps in the hope that some comforting result might follow.</p> + +<p>As the man rose higher and higher, and his figure grew smaller, his +climb possessed an even greater interest for Mercy Lascelles than she +admitted. She began to appreciate the peril of it, and peril, in +others, always held her fascinated.</p> + +<p>He was forced to move slowly, clinging closely with both hands to the +steps above him. It would be easy to slip and fall, and she waited for +that fall. She waited with nerves straining and every faculty alert.</p> + +<p>So absorbed was she that she had forgotten the horses, forgotten her +own position, everything, in the interest of the moment. Had it been +otherwise, she must have noticed that something had attracted the +drooping horses’ attention. She must have observed the suddenly lifted +heads, and pricked ears. But these things passed her by, as did the +approach of a solitary figure bearing a burden of freshly taken fox +pelts, which quite enveloped its massive shoulders.</p> + +<p>The man was approaching round a slight bend in the trail, and the +moment the waiting cart came into view, he stood, startled at the +apparition. Then he whistled softly, and glanced back over the road he +had come. He looked at a narrow point where the trail suddenly ended, +a sharp break where the cliff dropped away abruptly, and further +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>progress could only be made by an exhausting downward climb by a +skilled mountaineer.</p> + +<p>Then he came slowly on, his gray eyes closely scrutinizing the figure +in the cart. In a moment he saw that it was a woman, and, by her +drooping pose, recognized that she was by no means young. His eyes +took on a curious expression—half doubt, half wonder, and his face +grew a shade paler under his tan. But the change only lasted a few +seconds. He quickly pulled himself together, and, shaking his white +head thoughtfully, continued his way toward the vehicle with the +noiseless gait which moccasins ever give to the wearer. He reached the +cart quite unobserved. The woman’s whole attention was absorbed by the +climbing man, and the newcomer smiled curiously as he passed a +greeting.</p> + +<p>“You’ve hit a wrong trail, haven’t you?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>The woman in the cart gave a frantic start, and clutched at the side +rail as though for support. Then her eyes came on a level with the +man’s smiling face, and fear gave way to a sudden expression of +relentless hatred.</p> + +<p>“You?” she cried, and her lean figure seemed to crouch as though about +to spring.</p> + +<p>The man returned her stare without flinching. His eyes still wore +their curious smile.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said. “It is I.”</p> + +<p>The woman’s lips moved. She swallowed as though her throat had +suddenly become parched.</p> + +<p>“Moreton Bucklaw,” she murmured. “And—and after all these years.”</p> + +<p>The man nodded. Then several moments passed without a word.</p> + +<p>Finally it was the man who spoke. His manner was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>calm, so calm that +no one could have guessed a single detail of what lay between these +two, or the significance of their strange meeting.</p> + +<p>“You’ve hit a bad trail,” he said. “There’s a big drop back there. +These steps go on up to my home. The old fort. They’re an old short +cut to this valley. Guess your man’ll need to unhitch his horses and +turn the cart round. He can’t get it round else. Then, if you go back +past the shoulder of the hill, you’ll see an old track, sharp to your +right. That leads into the trail that’ll take you right on down to the +farm where little Joan lives.” He moved toward the steps. “I’ll tell +your man,” he said.</p> + +<p>He mounted the steps with the ease of familiarity, his great muscles +making the effort appear ridiculously easy. A little way up he paused, +and looked down at her.</p> + +<p>“Guess I shall see you again?” he said, with the same curious smile in +his steady eyes.</p> + +<p>And the woman’s reply came sharply up the hillside to him. It came +with all the pent-up hatred of years, concentrated into one sentence. +The hard eyes were alight with a cold fury, which, now, in her +advancing years, when the freshness and beauty that had once been hers +could no longer soften them, was not without its effect upon the man.</p> + +<p>“Yes. You will see me again, Moreton Bucklaw.”</p> + +<p>And the man continued the ascent with a feeling as though he had +listened to the pronouncement of his death sentence.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>THE WEB OF FATE</h3> + +<p>Joan had looked forward to her aunt’s coming with very mixed feelings. +There were moments when she was frankly glad at the prospect of a +companionship which had been hers since her earliest childhood. Her +nature had no malice in it, and the undoubted care, which, in her +early years, the strange old woman had bestowed upon her counted for +much in her understanding of duty and gratitude. Then, besides, +whatever Aunt Mercy’s outlook, whatever the unwholesomeness of the +profession she followed with fanatical adherence, she was used to her, +used to her strangenesses, her dark moments. If affection had never +been particularly apparent in the elder woman’s attitude toward her, +there had certainly been a uniform avoidance of the display of any +other feeling until those last few days immediately preceding her own +flight from St. Ellis. Habit was strong with Joan, so strong, indeed, +that in her happy moments she was glad at the thought of the return +into her life of the woman who had taken the place of her dead +parents.</p> + +<p>Then, too, even the memory of that frenzied morning, when Aunt Mercy, +laboring under her awful disease of mysticism, had assumed the rôle of +prophetess, and accuser, and hurled at her troubled head a +denunciation as cruel as it was impossible, had lost something of its +dread significance and sting. At the time it had been of a blasting +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>nature, but now—now, since she had conferred with Buck’s great +friend, since Buck’s wonderful support had been added to her life, all +the harshness of the past appeared in a new and mellowed light. She +believed she saw her aunt as she really was, a poor, torn creature, +whose mind was diseased, as a result of those early fires of +disappointment through which she had passed.</p> + +<p>The Padre had denied the fate that this aunt had convinced her of. +Buck had defied it, and laughed it out of countenance. These men, so +strong, so capable, had communicated to her receptive nature something +of the hope and strength that was theirs. Thus she was ready to +believe, to stand shoulder to shoulder with them, feeling that in the +future nothing could hurt her. So she was ready for her aunt’s coming.</p> + +<p>But to live up to her determination was not always easy. She had +yielded to all her old superstitious dread at the moment when Buck had +first opened her eyes to the wonderful love that had so silently, so +unknown, yet so swiftly grown up in her heart for him. In that +delicious awakening, when lost in a joy almost inconceivable, when her +defenses were at their weakest, the enemy’s attack had come swiftly +and surely. Her very love had aided it. Her dread for the man had +gripped her heart, and all her mind and senses had gone back to the +unspeakable fears she had only just learnt to deny. Nor was it until +his denial, a denial given with that wonderful laugh of confidence, +had she been able to drag herself back to the new path which his +white-haired friend had marked out for her.</p> + +<p>Since then, however, she had been able to contemplate her aunt’s +coming in something of the spirit in which she <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>desired to welcome +her. She felt that now, at least, she was proof against the +unwholesome thought of the woman’s diseased mind. There were certain +unacknowledged trepidations as the time drew near, but these she +contrived to smother under the excitement and interest of preparing +her house for the reception, and the radiant confidence of Buck, which +never failed to support her.</p> + +<p>Every morning and every evening brought Buck’s strong presence to the +farm for a brief visit. And each visit was a dream of delight to the +simple, loving girl. All day long, as she labored through her +household cares, and the affairs of the farm she lived in, she dwelt +on the memory of the morning visit, or looked forward to her lover’s +coming as the sun reached the western skies. Every night, when she +sought the snow-white ease of her bed, it was to spend her few +remaining minutes of waking dwelling on the happiness of past moments, +and ultimately to anticipate in dreams the delights of the morrow.</p> + +<p>So the days sped rapidly by and the time for Aunt Mercy’s arrival drew +on. And with each passing day the shadows receded, her trepidations +became less and less, until they almost reached the vanishing-point. +She felt that in Buck’s love no shadow could live. With him at her +side she need have no fear of evil. He was exalted by the very +wholesomeness of his mind and heart, and the strength and confidence +that was his, far, far above the level of hideous superstitions and +happenings. His love for her, her love for him were too great, far too +great, for disaster to ever touch them.</p> + +<p>Then came Aunt Mercy.</p> + +<p>She came in the middle of an oppressive afternoon. The days of late +had assumed an extraordinary oppressiveness <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>for the season of the +year. She came amidst the peaceful calm when all farm life seems to be +wrapped in a restful somnolence, when the animal world has spent its +morning energies, and seeks rest that it may recuperate for the +affairs surrounding its evening meal.</p> + +<p>With her coming Joan’s first realization was of dismay at the manner +in which she had underestimated the woman’s personality, how strangely +absence had distorted her view of the mind behind those hard, gray +eyes. And with this realization came an uneasy feeling that the power +and influence which had sent her rushing headlong from her home, to +seek the peace of the wilderness, was no fancy of a weak, girlish +mind, but a force, a strong, living force, which made itself felt the +instant she came into the woman’s uncanny presence again.</p> + +<p>She was just the same unyielding creature she had always known. Her +peevish plaint at the journey, her railing at the stupidity and +impertinence of the teamster, her expressed disgust at the country, +her complaining of everything. These things were just what Joan must +have expected, had she not lived away from her aunt, and so lost her +proper focus. Joan did her best to appease her. She strove by every +art of her simple mind to interest her and divert her thought and mood +into channels less harsh. But she had little success, and it quickly +became apparent that the lapse of time since her going from home had +aggravated rather than improved the strange mental condition under +which her aunt labored.</p> + +<p>After the first greetings, and Joan had conducted her to her room, +which she had spent infinite time and thought in arranging, the old +woman remained there to rest until supper-time. Then she reappeared, +and, by the signs of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>her worn, ascetic face, the cruel hollows about +those adamant eyes, the drawn cheeks and furrowed brow, the girl +realized that rest with her was not easy to achieve. She saw every +sign in her now that in the old days she had learned to dread so +acutely.</p> + +<p>However, there was no help for it. She knew it was not in the nature +of that busy brain to rest, and one day the breaking-point would be +reached, and the end would come suddenly.</p> + +<p>But at supper-time there was a definite change in her aunt’s mental +attitude. Whereas before her whole thought had been for the outpouring +of her complaint at her personal discomforts, now all that seemed to +have been forgotten in something which held her alert and watchful. +Joan had no thought or suspicion of the working of the swift-moving +brain. Only was she pleased, almost delighted at the questioning and +evident interest in her own affairs.</p> + +<p>The meal was nearly over. Aunt Mercy, as was her habit, had eaten +sparingly, while she alternately listened to the details of the girl’s +farm life, the manner of the gold camp, the history of her arrival +there and the many vicissitudes which had followed, and voiced the +questions of her inquisitorial mind. Now she leant back in her chair +and slowly sipped a cup of strong, milkless tea, while her eyes +watched the girl’s expressive face.</p> + +<p>Joan had purposely avoided mention of the many details which had had +such power to disturb her in the past. She had no desire to afford a +reopening of the scene she had endured that morning at St. Ellis. But +Mercy Lascelles was not to be thwarted by any such simple subterfuge.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p><p>“You’ve told me a lot of what doesn’t matter,” she said sharply, after +a pause, while she sipped her tea. “Now tell me something that does.” +She glanced down at the flashing diamond rings upon her fingers. “By +your letter you have not escaped from those things you hoped to—when +you left St. Ellis.”</p> + +<p>Joan started. She was sitting with her elbows on the table, her chin +resting on her clasped hands. Mercy Lascelles observed the start, but +offered no comment. She waited. She could afford to wait. She had read +and understood the girl’s letter. Besides, there was something else in +her mind. Something else which required piecing into the web which +linked their lives together. She knew that it held an important place, +but its exact position her busy brain was still groping to resolve.</p> + +<p>“Do you want me to talk about—those things?” the girl asked half +appealingly. “Is it necessary? I am very happy, auntie, so happy that +I don’t want to risk losing a moment of it. I have not always been +happy since I came here.”</p> + +<p>The hard, gray eyes suddenly lifted to the girl’s face, and there was +mocking in their depths.</p> + +<p>“You mentioned them light-heartedly enough in your letter. You spoke +of the death of two men to point your assurance that their death had +nothing to do with your—fate. Some one had reassured you. Some one +had made plain the absurdity that such a fate could ever be. Some one +had shown you that such convictions only lived in the human mind and +had no actual place in the scheme of things. Surely with this +wonderful truth behind you, you need not shrink from details of things +which have no connection with your life.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p><p>The icy sarcasm would not be denied. It was the old note Joan had been +so familiar with. Its sting was as poignant as ever, but somehow now +it stirred her to a defense of those who had come to her aid in her +direst need.</p> + +<p>But this was her aunt’s first day on the farm. She felt she must +restrain herself. She tried to smile, but it was a weakly attempt.</p> + +<p>“You are quite unchanged, auntie,” she said.</p> + +<p>“I might say the same of you, Joan,” came the sharp retort.</p> + +<p>But Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>“You would be quite wrong. I have changed so much that you can never +make me believe again in—all that which you made me believe before. +Let me be frank. Nothing but my conviction that I am no more cursed by +an evil fate than is every other living creature would have induced me +to ask you here. I have asked you to come here and share my home +because you are my aunt, my only relative, who has been good to me in +the past. Because I am lonely here without you, and—and—oh, don’t +you understand? There are only us two left. Yes, I want to be with +you.” She broke off, but in a moment went on rapidly. “But this could +never have been had I still believed what you made me believe. Under +that old shadow I would have gone to the ends of the world rather than +have been near you. Can’t you understand? Let us forget it all—let us +begin a new life together.”</p> + +<p>Mercy shook her head. She was quite unmoved by the girl’s appeal.</p> + +<p>“There is only one life. There is no beginning again. Those who talk +like that are fools. That is why I say <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>you, too, are unchanged.” The +woman’s eyes lit. They suddenly became filled with that cold fire +which Joan knew so well. “You think you are changed. You think by an +effort of will—your own, combined with that of another, you have +escaped that which has followed you from your birth. You think that +every disaster that has ever occurred to those with whom you have been +associated, and those who have belonged to you, can be accounted for +naturally. You, with your foolish brain, and the equally foolish brain +of that other. Why, girl, you deny it in every line of the letter you +wrote me. It is there—there in every word, in its very atmosphere. +You are lying to yourself under the influence of this other—who lies +to you. Prove what you say if you want me to believe. The scientific +mind must have proof, undeniable, irrefutable proof. Statements, mere +statements of unbelief are meaningless things which do not convince +even their authors. If you need to convince yourself, and convince me, +then engage yourself to some man, marry him, and I tell you now you +will bring about the direst tragedy that ever befel human creature.”</p> + +<p>“I—I have done what—what you dare me to do. I have engaged myself to +marry. I am going to marry the man I love more than life itself.”</p> + +<p>Joan had risen from her seat. She stood erect, her beautiful head +thrown back. An ecstatic light shone in the deep velvet softness of +her eyes. But even as she spoke a sudden paling lessened the delicate +bloom of her cheeks.</p> + +<p>The other, with her cold eyes leveled at her, was quick to observe.</p> + +<p>“And who is—your victim?”</p> + +<p>Joan’s pallor increased as she stared for a moment with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>dilating eyes +at the woman who could be capable of such cruelty. Then, of a sudden, +a protest of such bitterness sprang to her lips that even Mercy +Lascelles was startled.</p> + +<p>“Oh, God, was there ever such callous heartlessness in human creature? +Was there ever such madness in sane woman? You ask me to prove my +convictions, you ask me for the one method by which even you can be +convinced, and when I show you how far my new faith has carried me you +taunt me by asking who is my—victim. Oh, aunt, for the love of all +you ever held dear, leave me in peace. Let me prove to you my own +destiny, but leave me in peace until I have done so, or—failed. Can +you not see that I am trying to preserve my sanity? And by every word +and look you are driving me to the verge of madness. The man I love +knows all, he and his great friend. He knows all you have ever told +me, and his love is the strongest and bravest. He laughs this fate to +scorn, he has no fears for himself, or for me. I tell you you shall +have your proof. But you must leave me in peace.”</p> + +<p>For a moment it almost seemed as if her aunt were abashed at the +passion of her protest. She withdrew her cold stare, and, with her +jeweled hands folded in her lap, gazed down at the white table-cloth. +She waited until Joan dropped despairingly back into her chair, then +she looked up, and her glance was full of malicious irony.</p> + +<p>“You shall have your way—after to-night. You shall not hear one word +of warning from me. But to-night you must let me have my way. You say +you believe. I tell you I <i>know</i>. You must do your best, and—fail. +Have your way.” She withdrew her gaze and her eyes became +introspective. “Who is this man—you say you are going to marry?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p><p>Joan warmed under the change in her aunt’s manner. Her relief at the +other’s assurance was almost boundless, although the effect of the +woman’s previous attitude was to leave her far less sure of herself.</p> + +<p>“It is Buck,” she said impulsively. “He is the great friend of the man +from whom I bought this farm. Oh, auntie, wait until you see him. You +will realize, as I have, his strength, his goodness. You will have no +doubts when you know him. You will understand that he has no fear of +any—any supernatural agencies, has no fear of any fancied fate that +may be awaiting him. Auntie, he is tall, so tall, and—oh, he’s +wonderful. And his name, Buck—don’t you like it? It is so like him. +Buck—independence, courage, confidence. And, oh, auntie, I love him +so.”</p> + +<p>Mercy remained quite unmoved. It almost seemed doubtful if she heard +and understood all the simple girlishness in her niece’s rhapsody, so +preoccupied she seemed with her own thoughts.</p> + +<p>“It was his friend, you say, who has taught you that—you have nothing +further to fear? And who is this paragon?”</p> + +<p>“He is the man who sold me the farm. He is such a good, kind creature. +He is loved and respected by every soul in the place. He is so wise, +too,—he is quite wonderful. You know, he only sold his farm to me to +keep the miners from starving before they found the gold. He is a sort +of foster-father to Buck. He found him when he was a little +boy—picked him up on the trail-side. That’s about twenty years ago, +soon after the Padre—that’s what they call him—first came here.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes; but his name?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p><p>Mercy had little patience with such detail as interested the fresh +young mind of the girl.</p> + +<p>“Moreton Kenyon.”</p> + +<p>The eyes of the old woman shot a swift glance into the girl’s face.</p> + +<p>“Moreton—who?”</p> + +<p>“Kenyon.”</p> + +<p>Mercy sat up in her chair. Her whole figure was poised alertly. Her +eyes were no longer uninterested. She was stirred to swift mental +activity. She knew that the web was readjusting itself. The portion +she had been seeking to place was finding its own position.</p> + +<p>“He has a head of thick white hair. He has gray eyes, darkly fringed. +He is a man of something over fifty. His shoulders are massive. His +limbs sturdy and powerful.”</p> + +<p>Mercy detailed her description of the man in sharp, jerky sentences, +each one definite and pointed. She spoke with the certainty of +conviction. She was not questioning.</p> + +<p>Joan’s surprise found vent in a wondering interrogation.</p> + +<p>“Then, you have seen him? You know him?”</p> + +<p>Her aunt laughed. It was a painful, hideous laugh, suggesting every +hateful feeling rather than mirth. Joan was shocked, and vaguely +wondered when she had ever before heard her aunt laugh.</p> + +<p>“Know him? Yes, I know him.” The laugh was gone and a terrible look +had suddenly replaced the granite hardness of her eyes. “I have known +him all my life. I saw him only to-day, in the hills. He knew me. Oh, +yes, he knew me, and I knew him. We have <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>reason to know each other. +But his name is not Moreton Kenyon. It is—Moreton Bucklaw.”</p> + +<p>Joan’s wonder gave place to alarm as the other’s venomous manner +increased. The look in her eyes she recognized as the look she had +seen in the woman’s eyes when she had first listened to the story of +her childhood.</p> + +<p>“Moreton Bucklaw?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Moreton Bucklaw,” her aunt cried, with sudden vehemence, which +seemed to grow with every word she spoke. “Moreton Bucklaw. Do you +understand? No, of course you don’t. So this is your paragon of +goodness and wisdom. This is the man who has told you that your fate +only exists in distorted fancy. This is the man who is the +foster-father of your wonderful Buck, who defies the curse of disaster +which dogs your feet. Child, child, you have proved my words out of +your own lips. The disaster you deny is hard upon your heels, hard +upon the heels of this man you love. Your own hand, the hand even of +your lover, is in it. Was it fate that brought you here? Was it fate +that you should love this man? Was it fate that made my teamster lose +his way and so bring me face to face with this man, almost at the door +of his own home? Was it fate that brought me here? Yes, yes, yes! I +tell you it was fate that did all these things—your fate. The curse +from which you can never escape. Moreton Bucklaw!” She mouthed the +words with insane glee. “It is almost laughable,” she cried. “You have +promised to marry the foster-son of the man who is shortly to pay the +penalty for the murder of—your father.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>A BLACK NIGHT</h3> + +<p>The Padre sat staring into space before the stove. Buck was in his +favorite position at the open door, gazing out into the darkness of +the night. As he smoked his evening pipe he was thinking, as usual, of +the woman who was never quite out of his thoughts. He was intensely +happy in the quiet fashion that was so much a part of him. It seemed +to him unbelievable that he could have lived and been content before +he met Joan. Now there could be no life without her, no world even. +She pervaded his every sense, his whole being, with her beautiful +presence.</p> + +<p>He breathed deeply. Yes, it was all very, very wonderful. Then, by +degrees, his thoughts ran on to the expected arrival of Joan’s +relative—that aunt whom he had heard so much about from the Padre. +And in a moment an uneasy feeling made him shift his position. The +Padre’s story was still vivid in his mind; he could never forget it. +Nor could he forget this woman’s place in it. These thoughts set him +speculating uneasily as to the possible result of her visit.</p> + +<p>He surreptitiously glanced over at the silent figure beside the stove. +The man’s pipe was still in his mouth, but it had gone out. Also he +saw, in that quick glance, that the fire in the stove had fallen low. +But he made no move to replenish it. The night was very sultry.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p><p>He turned again to his contemplation of the outer world. The night was +black, jet black. There was not a star visible. The mountain air had +lost its cool snap, the accustomed rustle of the woods was gone. There +was a tense stillness which jarred in an extraordinary degree.</p> + +<p>“A desperate, dark night,” he said suddenly. He was merely voicing his +thought aloud.</p> + +<p>The sound of his voice roused the other from his reverie. The Padre +lifted his head and removed the pipe from between his teeth.</p> + +<p>“Yes—and hot. Throw us your tobacco.”</p> + +<p>Buck pitched his pouch across, but remained where he was.</p> + +<p>“Guess that leddy’s down at the farm by now,” Buck went on. “Joan was +guessing she’d get around to-day. That’s why I didn’t go along there.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she is there.” The Padre lit his pipe and smoked steadily.</p> + +<p>Buck turned quickly.</p> + +<p>“How d’you know?”</p> + +<p>“I met her on the trail. They missed their way this morning and hit +the trail below here, at the foot of the steps.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t—let her see you?” Buck asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>The Padre smiled.</p> + +<p>“I spoke to her. I put her on the right trail.”</p> + +<p>“You spoke to her?” Buck’s tone was half incredulous. “Did +she—recognize you?”</p> + +<p>The other nodded.</p> + +<p>“You see, I’ve not changed much—except for my hair.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p><p>“What did she do—say?”</p> + +<p>The Padre’s smile remained.</p> + +<p>“Said—I should see her again.”</p> + +<p>For some moments the two men faced each other across the room. The +yellow lamplight plainly revealed their different expressions. The +Padre’s smile was inimitable in its sphinx-like obscurity, but Buck’s +eyes were frankly troubled.</p> + +<p>“And that means?” Buck’s question rang sharply.</p> + +<p>“She has neither forgotten nor—forgiven.”</p> + +<p>Buck returned abruptly to his contemplation of the night, but his +thoughts were no longer the happy thoughts of the lover. Without +knowing it he was proving to himself that there were other things in +the world which could entirely obscure the happy light which the +presence of Joan shed upon his life.</p> + +<p>The Padre sat back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, +while his pipe burned hot and the smoke of it rose thickly. It was the +only outward sign he gave of any emotion. Buck suddenly forgot the +night. A desperate thought was running hotly through his brain. His +friend’s admission had set his fertile young brain working furiously. +It was traveling just whither a vivid imagination carried it. A +reckless purpose was swiftly formulating.</p> + +<p>After a while he turned again. His resolve was taken on the impulse of +the moment.</p> + +<p>“Padre,” he said, “you shall never——” But his sentence remained +incomplete. He broke off, listening.</p> + +<p>The other was listening too.</p> + +<p>There was the sharp cracking of a forest tree—one of those mysterious +creakings which haunt the woodland night. But there was another sound +too. The trained <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>ears of these men caught its meaning on the instant. +It was the vague and distant sound of wheels upon the soft bed of the +sandy trail.</p> + +<p>“A heavy wagon, an’—two hosses,” said Buck.</p> + +<p>The Padre nodded.</p> + +<p>“Coming from the direction of the farm. Sounds like the old team,—and +they’re being driven too fast for heavy horses. Joan hasn’t got a +saddle-horse of her own.”</p> + +<p>His last remark explained his conviction, and the suggestion found +concurrence in Buck’s mind.</p> + +<p>They waited, and the sound grew louder. Then, without a word, Buck +passed out of the room.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later the rumble of wheels ceased, and the Padre heard +Buck’s voice greeting Joan.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>A tragic light shone in Joan’s eyes as she stood in the centre of the +room glancing from her lover to his friend. She was searching for an +opening for what she had come to say. Her distraught brain was +overwhelmed with thoughts she could not put into words. She had driven +over with the heavy team and wagon because she had no other means of +reaching these two, and unless she reached them to-night she felt that +by morning her sanity must be gone. Now—now—she stood speechless +before them. Now, her brain refused to prompt her tongue. All was +chaos in her mind, and her eyes alone warned the men of the object of +her coming.</p> + +<p>It was the Padre’s voice that finally guided her. He read without +hesitation or doubt the object of her mission.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said simply. “I am Moreton Bucklaw, the man accused of your +father’s murder.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly the girl’s head drooped forward, and her hands <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>covered her +face as though to shut out the terrible truth which the man’s words +conveyed.</p> + +<p>“O God!” she cried. “Then she was not lying to me.”</p> + +<p>Buck’s eyes, fierce, almost savage at the sight of the girl’s despair, +shot a swift glance at his friend. It was a glance which only the +white-haired man could have understood. To the looker-on it would have +expressed a terrible threat. To the Padre it was the expression of a +heart torn to shreds between love and friendship.</p> + +<p>“If she told you I killed him—she was lying.”</p> + +<p>The man had not raised his tone. There was no other emotion in his +manner than distress for the girl’s suffering.</p> + +<p>Joan looked up, and a gleam of hope struggled through her despair.</p> + +<p>“Then it’s not true? Oh, I knew it—I knew it! She <i>was</i> lying to me. +She <i>was</i> lying to me as she has always lied to me. Oh, thank God, +thank God!” She dropped back into the chair that had been placed for +her, but which up to that moment she had ignored.</p> + +<p>The two men waited for her emotion to pass. Buck as yet had nothing to +say. And the Padre knew that until she was mistress of herself words +would only be wasted.</p> + +<p>Presently she looked up. Her eyes were dry, and the agony that had +sent her upon her headlong mission was passing. The Padre’s relief +showed in the smile with which he met her glance. Buck stood steadily +regarding her, longing to help her, but knowing that his time had not +come yet.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” she said, struggling hard for steadiness. “Tell me all—for +I—I cannot seem to understand anything.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p><p>The Padre bowed his head.</p> + +<p>“You know your own story. It is all substantially true that Mercy +Lascelles has told you. All, that is, except that she claims I killed +your father. She did not see your father die. I did. I was the only +one who saw him die—by his own hand, a desperate and ruined man. +Listen, and I will tell you the whole story without concealing one +tittle of my own doings and motives.”</p> + +<p>Half an hour passed while the man’s even voice recited without emotion +all the details leading up to Charles Stanmore’s death. He kept +nothing back—his own love for the then handsome Mercy, and the +passionate insult he had offered her, when, in her love for the dead +man, she became his housekeeper. He intended that, for Buck’s sake, +this girl should know everything, nor had he the least desire for any +concealment on personal account. He did not spare his own folly and +the cowardice of his flight. He felt that concealment of any sort +could only injure Buck, whom at all costs he must not hurt. He even +analyzed, with all the logic at his command, Mercy Lascelles’ motives +in accusing him. He declared his belief in her desire to marry the +widowed man and her own consequent hatred of himself, whose presence +was a constant thwart to her plans.</p> + +<p>And when he had finished something of the trouble had passed out of +the girl’s eyes. The color had returned to her cheeks, and he knew +that he had achieved his purpose.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it is terrible to you, child, to hear me speak of your +aunt, one of your own sex, a blood relative, in this way,” he said in +conclusion. “But I believe that she is absolutely mad in her hatred of +me. And now that she has discovered my whereabouts nothing less will +satisfy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>her than that I must stand my trial, and—go to the electric +chair. It is my purpose to stand my trial. It was for that reason, +when I recognized her this morning, before she even saw me, I +purposely thrust myself in her way. I intended that she should not +lack opportunity, and my reason—well, that doesn’t much matter.”</p> + +<p>The girl nodded.</p> + +<p>“I think I am glad of your decision,” she said simply. “You see, when +you have established your innocence——”</p> + +<p>“I fear that result is—doubtful.”</p> + +<p>The man’s admission was quite frank. Nor was there even a suggestion +of regret in his voice. But Joan’s heart gripped with alarm. The +thought of such a contingency had never occurred to her simple mind. +He had not committed murder. Then, of course, he was innocent. It had +all been made so simple. Now—now she was suddenly overwhelmed with a +new terror.</p> + +<p>“You mean—you cannot prove—your innocence?” she cried incredulously.</p> + +<p>“You forget I was the only man with him. I was the last person with +him. And—I fled when I should have stayed to—help. The circumstances +are terribly against me.”</p> + +<p>Joan’s throat had suddenly parched. She struggled to speak, but no +sound came. She looked to Buck for help and the man ran to her side.</p> + +<p>The gentle pressure of his protecting arm, as he rested one caressing +hand upon her shoulder, gave her the relief she needed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Buck, Buck! For the love of Heaven say something—do something,” +she appealed. “They will kill him for a crime—of which he is +innocent.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p><p>Suddenly the Padre’s eyes glowed with a strange light of happiness. +The girl’s appeal to Buck had been the one saving touch in the midst +of the cloud of tribulation overshadowing him. The daughter of his +best friend, the daughter of the man he was supposed to have done to +death, had given her verdict. She believed in his innocence. He sighed +with the depth of his thankfulness. He could now face whatever lay +before him with perfect equanimity.</p> + +<p>But Buck had yet to play his part in the little drama so swiftly +working itself out. His part was far different to the passive attitude +of the other man. He had no tolerance for the possible sacrifice of an +innocent life at the demand of a crazy woman who had come so nearly +wrecking the life of the girl he loved. As Joan appealed to him his +eyes lit with a sudden fire of rebellion. And his answer came in a hot +rush.</p> + +<p>“You think I’m goin’ to let him die, Joan?” he cried, the hot blood +staining his cheeks and brow. “I tell you he won’t. I swear to you, +sure, sure, he shan’t die a murderer’s death! I tell you right here, +little gal, ther’ ain’t a sheriff in the country big enough to take +him. He says he must give up to arrest when the time comes. Wal, he’ll +have to do it over my dead body.”</p> + +<p>His words were in answer to Joan’s appeal, but they were hurled at the +man beside the fire, and were a defiance and a challenge from the +depths of a loyal heart.</p> + +<p>The Padre’s smile was good to see. But he shook his head. And +instantly Joan caught at the enthusiasm which stirred her lover and +hugged it to herself. She sprang to her feet, and a wonderful light +shone in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Buck is right, Padre. He is right,” she cried. “Do <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>you hear? You +shall not take the risk, you must not. Oh, Padre! you must live for +our sakes. We know your innocence, then what more is needed after all +these years? For once let us be your mentors—you who have always been +the mentor of others. Padre, Padre, you owe this to us. Think of it! +Think of what it would mean. A murderer’s death! You shall not, you +cannot give yourself up. Buck is right. I, too, am with him.”</p> + +<p>She turned to the man at her side, and, raising her arms, clasped her +hands about his neck.</p> + +<p>“Buck—my Buck. Let us swear together that, while we have life, he +shall never be the victim of this crazy, terrible woman. It shall be +our fight—yours and mine.”</p> + +<p>Buck gazed down into her beautiful, pleading eyes as he clasped her +slim body in his strong, young arms. Her eyes were alight with a love, +radiant in its supremacy over her whole being. Her championship of his +innocent friend would have endeared her a thousandfold had such a +thing been possible. In that moment it was as though her courage, her +loyalty, had completed the bond between them. His jaws gritted tight. +His eyes shone with a fervent resolution.</p> + +<p>“It goes, little gal,” he cried. “It’s our lives for his. It sure +goes—every time.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>BEASLEY IN HIS ELEMENT</h3> + +<p>The camp was sweltering under an abnormal heat. There was not one +breath of the usual invigorating mountain air. A few more degrees of +humidity, and the cup of endurance would have been filled to +overflowing and toiling humanity breathing something like sheer +moisture. The sky was heavy and gray, and a dull sun, as though it too +had been rendered faint-hearted, was painfully struggling against the +laden atmosphere.</p> + +<p>The work of the camp went on. For hours human nature wrestled with a +growing inertia which robbed effort of all snap. But gradually, as the +day wore on, the morning impetus gave way, and peevish tongues voiced +the general plaint. Men moved about slowly, their tongues actively +cursing. They cursed the heat as they mopped their dripping brows. +They cursed the flies, and hurled mighty blows for their destruction. +They cursed all work, and gold became the last thing in the world they +desired at such a price. They cursed the camp, the country, but more +than all they cursed the black hill from which they drew their living.</p> + +<p>Then came acknowledgment of defeat. One by one at first, and finally +in batches, they shouldered their tools and moodily withdrew from the +attack. As they went weary eyes glanced back with hate and disgust at +the frowning buttresses of the hill, with awe at the steaming cloud +hanging <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>above the simmering waters of the suspended lake. The +depressing shadow of Devil’s Hill had for the moment become +intolerable.</p> + +<p>Beasley hated the heat just as cordially as these toilers, but he +would have hated still more its sudden going, and the consequent +appeasement of unnatural thirsts, which it was his pleasure and profit +to slake. His own feelings were at all times subservient to his +business instincts. This sudden, unaccountable heat meant added profit +to him, therefore his complaint was half-hearted. It was almost as if +he feared to give offense to the gods of his good fortune.</p> + +<p>Then, too, Beasley had so many things to occupy his busy brain. His +trade was one that required much scheming, a matter in which he +reveled at all times. Problems of self-interest were his salt of life, +and their accurate solution brought him as near earthly happiness as +well could be.</p> + +<p>Curiously enough problems were always coming his way. He chanced upon +one that morning while busy in his storeroom, his attention divided +between pricing and stacking new dry goods and smashing flies on the +back of his superheated neck. And it served him with food for thought +for the rest of the day.</p> + +<p>It took him quite unawares, and for that very reason gave him ample +satisfaction. He was bending over a pile of rolls of fabric when a +voice suddenly hailed him from the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Are you the proprietor of the livery stables?”</p> + +<p>He turned about with a start. Such a question in that camp seemed +superfluous. It was absurd. He looked up, and his astonished eyes fell +upon the vision of an extremely <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>well-dressed, refined-looking woman +whom he judged to be anything over fifty. But what held his attention +most was the lean, emaciated face and penetrating eyes. There was +something of the witch about it, as there was about the bowed figure. +But more than all she was a <i>stranger</i>.</p> + +<p>He admitted the impeachment in the midst of his astonishment with an +abruptness equal to her own.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he said, and waited.</p> + +<p>“Where will I find the sheriff of this place?”</p> + +<p>Beasley’s eyes opened wider.</p> + +<p>“Guess ther’ ain’t no sheriff in this camp.”</p> + +<p>The woman’s next words came impatiently.</p> + +<p>“Why isn’t there? Is there a lawyer?”</p> + +<p>Beasley grinned. His astonishment was giving place to curiosity and +speculation. He tapped the revolver at his hip.</p> + +<p>“We’re mostly our own lawyers around here,” he said easily.</p> + +<p>But the woman ignored his levity.</p> + +<p>“Where can I find one—a lawyer, or sheriff?” she demanded with an +added imperiousness.</p> + +<p>“Guess Leeson Butte’s nearest.”</p> + +<p>The stranger considered a moment. Beasley’s eyes never left her. He +had noticed the refinement of her accent, and wondered the more.</p> + +<p>“How can I get there—best?” the woman next demanded.</p> + +<p>“Guess I ken let you have a team,” Beasley said with alacrity. He +smelt good business.</p> + +<p>“How much?”</p> + +<p>“Fifty dollars. In an’ out—with teamster.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p><p>“Does he know the way?”</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>The woman eyed him steadily.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want any mistakes. This—is a case of murder.”</p> + +<p>Beasley’s interest suddenly redoubled. The problem was growing in its +attractiveness.</p> + +<p>“Who’s the feller?” he asked unguardedly.</p> + +<p>“That’s not your business.” The woman’s eyes were cold. “Send the team +over to the farm down the river in two hours’ time. The horses must be +able to travel fast. Here’s the money.”</p> + +<p>The saloon-keeper took the money promptly. But for once his +astonishment held him silent. Mercy Lascelles had reached the door to +go. Then she seemed to change her mind. She paused.</p> + +<p>“There’s fifty dollars more when I get back—if you keep your tongue +quiet,” she said warningly. “I don’t want my business to get around. I +should say gossip travels fast amongst the hills. That’s what I don’t +want.”</p> + +<p>“I see.”</p> + +<p>It was all the astonished man could think of to say at the moment. But +he managed an abundant wink in a markedly friendly way.</p> + +<p>His wink missed fire, however, for the woman had departed; and by the +time he reached the door to look after her he saw her mounting the +wagon, which was drawn by the heavy team from Joan’s farm, and driven +by her hired man.</p> + +<p>As the stranger drove off he leant against the doorway and emitted a +low whistle. In his own phraseology he was “beat,” completely and +utterly “beat.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p><p>But this state of things could not last long. His fertile brain could +not long remain under such a cloud of astonished confusion. He must +sort out the facts and piece them together. This he set to work on at +once.</p> + +<p>Abandoning his work in the storeroom he went at once to the barn, and +gave orders for the dispatch of the team. And herein, for once, he +traded honestly with his visitor. He ordered his very best team to be +sent. Perhaps it was in acknowledgment of the problem she had offered +him.</p> + +<p>Then he questioned his helpers. Here he was absolutely despotic. And +in less than half an hour he had ascertained several important facts. +He learned that a team had come in from Crowsfoot the previous +afternoon, bringing a passenger for the farm. The team had remained at +the farm, likewise the teamster. Only the fact that daylight that +morning had brought the man into camp for a supply of fodder and +provisions had supplied them with the news of his presence in the +district. This had happened before Beasley was up.</p> + +<p>With this Beasley went back to the saloon, where his dinner was served +him in the bar. His bartender was taking an afternoon off. It was a +thoughtful meal. The man ate noisily with the aid of both knife and +fork. He had acquired all the habits of the class he had so long mixed +with. Nor was it until his plate of meat and canned vegetables had +nearly disappeared that light began to creep into his clouded brain.</p> + +<p>He remembered that Joan had refurnished the farm. Why? Because some +one from the East, no doubt, was coming to stay with her. Who? Mother? +Aunt? Cousin? Female anyway. Female arrives. Queer-looking female. +Goes to farm. Stays one night. Comes <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>looking for sheriff next +morning. A case of murder. No murder been done around here. Where? +East? Yes. Then there’s some one here she’s found—or she knows is +here—and he’s wanted for murder. Who?</p> + +<p>At this point Beasley grinned. How many might there not be on Yellow +Creek who could be so charged?</p> + +<p>But his shrewd mind was very quick. This woman had not been into camp +until she visited him. Where had she been? In the hills—coming from +Crowsfoot. Still she might have been aware of the presence of her man +before she came—through Joan.</p> + +<p>For a moment he was disappointed.</p> + +<p>But it was only for a moment. He quickly brightened up. A new idea had +occurred to him which narrowed his field of possibilities. This woman +was educated, she belonged to a class he had once known himself. She +would know nothing of the riffraff of this camp. It must be somebody +of the same class, or near it, somebody of education——He drew a +sharp breath, and his wicked eyes lit.</p> + +<p>The wildest, the most impossible thought had occurred to him. He +pondered long upon the passage of the trail from Crowsfoot to the +farm. He remembered how she did not desire the “gossip” to +travel—especially to the hills.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he hailed his Chinese cook and flung his knife and fork down +upon his plate. In his elation he forgot the heat, the sticky flies. +He forgot his usual custom of abstention during the day. He poured +himself out a long drink of really good whisky, which he gulped down, +smacking his lips with appreciation before flinging his customary +curse at the head of his Mongolian servitor.</p> + +<p>He had never had such a morning in his life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p><p>Two of the boys came in for a drink. Such was his mood that he upset +their whole focus of things by insisting that they have it at his +expense. And when a third came along with a small parcel of gold dust +he bought it at its full value.</p> + +<p>These were significant signs. Beasley Melford was in a generous mood. +And such a mood in such a man required a lot of inspiration.</p> + +<p>But it was not likely to continue for long. And surely enough it +quickly reached its limit, and resolved itself into his every-day +attitude, plus a desire to make up, at the first opportunity, the +losses incurred by his moments of weak generosity.</p> + +<p>The heat of the day soon afforded him his desire, for the limp and +sweating miners straggled back into camp long before their usual +working day was ended. And what is more, they came to seek solace and +refreshment under his willing roof.</p> + +<p>By the middle of the afternoon the bar was fairly well filled. The +place was little better than a furnace of humid heat. But under the +influence of heartening spirits the temperature passed almost +unnoticed, or at least uncared. Here at least the weary creatures were +called upon for no greater effort than to deal cards, or raise a glass +to their lips and hold it there until drained. They could stand any +heat in the pursuit of such pastimes.</p> + +<p>Beasley watched his customers closely. Three tables of poker were +going, and from each he drew a percentage for the “chips” sold at the +bar. Each table was well supplied with drinks. A group of five men +occupied one end of the counter, and two smaller groups were farther +along. They were all drinking with sufficient regularity <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>to suit his +purposes. Amongst the crowd gathered he noticed many of the men of the +original camp. There was Curly Saunders and Slaney at one poker table +with Diamond Jack. Abe Allinson was in close talk with two financial +“sharps” from Leeson, at the bar. The Kid was with a number of new +hands who had only just come in to try their luck. He was endeavoring +to sell a small share of his claim at a large price. Two others were +with the larger group at the bar, discussing “outputs” and new methods +of washing gold. It was a mixed collection of humanity, but there were +sufficient of the original members of the camp to suit him.</p> + +<p>In a lull in the talk, when for a moment only the click of poker +“chips” and the shuffle of cards broke the silence, Beasley propped +himself against his counter and, for once, paused from his everlasting +habit of glass wiping.</p> + +<p>“Guess none o’ you heard the news?” he inquired, with a grin of +anticipation.</p> + +<p>His first effort failed to produce the effect he desired, so a +repetition followed quickly. For a moment play was suspended at one of +the tables, and the men looked up.</p> + +<p>“Noos?” inquired Diamond Jack.</p> + +<p>The Kid and his youthful companions looked round at the foxy face of +their host.</p> + +<p>“Oh! I don’t guess it’s nuthin’,” said Beasley. “Only—it’s so dogone +queer.”</p> + +<p>His manner was well calculated. His final remark drew the entire +barroom. All play and all talk was abruptly held up.</p> + +<p>“Wot’s queer?” demanded Diamond Jack, while all eyes searched the +saloon-keeper’s sharp face.</p> + +<p>Beasley bit the end off a green cigar.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p><p>“That’s just it,” he said. “Ther’s suthin’ I can’t jest make out. +Say——” he paused while he lit his cigar with a sulphur match. “Any +you fellers heard of a murder around here lately? Can’t say I have.”</p> + +<p>He puffed leisurely at his cigar. The scattered groups at the bar drew +closer. There was no question but he now had the attention he desired. +The blank negative on the faces about him gave him his answer.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he observed thoughtfully. “That’s wher’ I’m beat. But—ther’s +sure murder been done, an’ ther’s goin’ to be a big doin’ around—in +consequence. Ther’s word gone in to the sheriff at Leeson, an’ the law +fellers o’ that city is raisin’ a mighty business to get warrants +signed. Say, I heerd they’re sendin’ a dozen dep’ties to hunt these +hills. Seems to me the guy whoever it is is a pretty hot tough, an’ +he’s livin’ in the hills. I heard more than that. I heard the murder +was a low-down racket that if folks knew about it they’d be right out +fer lynchin’ this guy. That’s why it’s bin kep’ quiet. I bin goin’ +over the folks in my mind to locate the—murderer. But it’s got me +beat.”</p> + +<p>“Ther’ ain’t bin no murder since the camp got boomin’,” said Abe +Allinson thoughtfully, “’cept you reckon that racket of Ike an’ +Pete’s.”</p> + +<p>Beasley shook his head.</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t that. That was jest clear shootin’. Though it’s queer you +mention that. Say, this racket’s got somethin’ to do with that farm. +It’s mighty queer about that farm. That gal’s brought a heap of +mischief. She sure is an all-fired Jonah.”</p> + +<p>“But what’s she to do wi’ this new racket?” inquired Slaney.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p><p>Beasley shook his head.</p> + +<p>“You got me beat again. The sheriff’s comin’ right out to that farm, +chasin’ some feller for murder. Ther’s the fact—plain fact. He’s +comin’ to that farm—which shows that gal is mussed-up with the racket +someways. Now I tho’t a heap on this thing. An’ I’m guessin’ this +murder must have been done back East. Y’ see that gal comes from back +East. ‘Wal, now,’ says I, ‘how do we shape then?’ Why, that gal—that +Jonah gal—comes right here an’ locates some feller who’s done murder +back East. Who is it? I gone over every feller in this yer camp, an’ +’most all are pretty clear accounted for. Then from what I hear the +sheriff’s posse is to work the hills. Who is ther’ in the hills?”</p> + +<p>Beasley paused for effect. His purpose was rapidly becoming evident. +He glanced over the faces about him, and knew that the same thought +was in each mind.</p> + +<p>He laughed as though an absurd thought had passed through his mind.</p> + +<p>“Course,” he exclaimed, “it’s durned ridic’lous. Ther’s two fellers we +know livin’ in the hills. Jest two. Ther’s Buck an’—the Padre. Buck’s +bin around this creek ever since he was raised. I ain’t no use for +Buck. He’s kind o’ white livered, but he’s a straight citizen. Then +the Padre,” he laughed again, “he’s too good. Say, he’s next best to a +passon. So it can’t be him.”</p> + +<p>He waited for concurrence, and it came at once.</p> + +<p>“I’ll swar’ it ain’t the Padre,” cried Curly warmly.</p> + +<p>“It sure ain’t,” agreed Slaney, shaking his serious head.</p> + +<p>“The Padre?” cried Abe, with a scornful laugh. “Why, I’d sooner guess +it’s me.”</p> + +<p>Beasley nodded.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p><p>“You’re dead right ther’, boys,” he said, with hearty good-will. “It +sure ain’t the Padre. He’s got religion, an’ though I’m ’most allus +curious ’bout folks with religion—it ain’t right to say ther’s any +queer reason fer ’em gettin’ it. Then the Padre’s bin here nigh twenty +years. Jest fancy! A feller of his eddication chasin’ around these +hills fer twenty years! It’s easy fer a feller raised to ’em, like +Buck. But when you’ve been a feller in a swell position East, to come +an’ hunt your hole in these hills fer twenty years, why, it’s—it’s +astonishin’. Still, that don’t make no diff’rence. It can’t be the +Padre. He’s got his reasons fer stayin’ around here. Wal, nigh all of +us has got reasons fer bein’ here. An’ it ain’t fer us to ask why. No, +though I don’t usually trust folks who get religion sudden, I ain’t +goin’ agin the Padre. He’s a white man, sure.”</p> + +<p>“The whitest around here,” cried Curly. He eyed Beasley steadily. +“Say, you,” he went on suspiciously, “who give you all this?”</p> + +<p>It was the question Beasley had been waiting for. But he would rather +have had it from some one else. He twisted his cigar across his lips +and spat a piece of tobacco leaf out of his mouth.</p> + +<p>“Wal,” he began deliberately, “I don’t guess it’s good med’cine +talkin’ names. But I don’t mind sayin’ right here this thing’s made me +feel mean. The story’s come straight from that—that—Jonah gal’s +farm. Yep, it makes me feel mean. Ther’s nothin’ but trouble about +that place now—’bout her. I ain’t got over Ike and Pete. Wal, I don’t +guess we’ll get to the rights of that now. They wer’ two bright boys. +Here are us fellers runnin’ this camp fer all we know, all good +citizens, mind, an’ ther’ <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span>ain’t nothin’ amiss. We ke’p the place good +an’ clean of rackets. We’re goin’ to boom into a big concern, an’ +we’re goin’ to make our piles—clean. An’ we got to put up with the +wust sort of mischief—from this farm. It ain’t right. It ain’t a +square shake by a sight. I sez when ther’s Jonahs about they need to +be put right out. An’ mark you, that gal, an’ that farm are Jonahs. +Now we got this sheriff feller comin’ around with his dep’ties chasin’ +glory after a crook. He’ll get his nose into everybody. An’ sheriffs’ +noses is quick at gettin’ a nasty smell. I ain’t sayin’ a thing about +any citizen in this place—but I don’t guess any of us has store halos +about us, an’ halos is the only things’ll keep any feller safe when +sheriffs get around.”</p> + +<p>A murmur of approval greeted his argument. Few of the men in the camp +desired the presence of a sheriff in their midst. There were few +enough among them who would care to have the ashes of their past +disturbed by any law officer. Beasley had struck the right note for +his purpose.</p> + +<p>“How’d you put this Jonah out, Beasley?” cried Diamond Jack.</p> + +<p>Beasley thought for a moment.</p> + +<p>“How’d I put her out?” he said at last. “That’s askin’ some. How’d I +put her out? Say,” his face flushed, and his eyes sparkled, “ef I had +my way I’d burn every stick o’ that dogone farm. Then she’d light out. +That’s what I’d do. I ain’t got no use for Jonahs. An’ I say right +here I’d give five hundred dollars to see her back turned on this +place. I tell you, boys, an’ I’m speakin’ for your good, an’ mine, if +she stops around here we’re goin’ to get it—we’ll get it good. The +Lord knows <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>how it’s goin’ to come. But it’s comin’, I feel it in my +bones. It’s comin’ as sure as my name’s Beasley.”</p> + +<p>He threw such a sincerity and earnestness into his manner that he made +a marked impression. Even Curly Saunders, who, with one or two of the +older hands, had some sort of regard for the girl they believed had +founded their fortunes, was not quite without doubts. There was no +question but mischief did seem to hang about the farm. Ike and Pete +had been popular enough. The newer people had no sentiment on the +matter, but they listened with interest to the saloon-keeper, feeling +that his was the voice of the leading citizen. Besides, the matter of +the sheriff’s coming was not pleasant. Many had spent a great part of +their lives avoiding such contact.</p> + +<p>“Seems to me you’re forgettin’ that gal brought us our luck,” the Kid +suggested impulsively. “You were ther’ when we handed her the——”</p> + +<p>“Death’s-head,” laughed Beasley. Then his face hardened. “Tcha!” he +cried with some heat. “You make me sick. I told you then, as I tell +you now, it was that storm brought us our luck, an’ it brought us our +Jonah with it. If you’d got a cent’s worth of grit that gal ’ud go. We +don’t wish her harm. I ain’t one to wish a gal harm. But go she must +if we want to be quit of trouble. Still, I’m on’y just sayin’ what I +feel. It don’t matter a heap. Ther’s the sheriff comin’ along to grab +some one for murder. Maybe he’ll chase up a few other rackets to fill +in his time. It’s things of that nature do matter. He’s got to git +some one. Maybe it’s some one in the hills. Maybe it ain’t. +Maybe—wal, I sure do hope it ain’t—the Padre.”</p> + +<p>He laughed as he turned to attend the wants of some <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>fresh customers +who entered the bar at that moment. The malice underlying his jest +must have been plain to any one observing the man.</p> + +<p>With this fresh diversion play at the card tables was resumed while +the men at the bar fell back into their original groups. But the +general interest was absorbed in Beasley’s news, and the channels of +talk were diverted. Beasley had sown his seed on fruitful soil. He +knew it. The coming of a sheriff, or any form of established law, into +a new mining camp was not lightly to be welcomed by the earliest +pioneers.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this atmosphere a further interest arose. The last +person Beasley expected to see in his bar at that hour of the day was +Buck. He was not even sure he wanted to see him after what had passed. +Yet Buck suddenly pushed his way through the swing-doors.</p> + +<p>The saloon-keeper was in the act of replacing the whisky bottle under +the counter, having just served his fresh customers, when his foxy +eyes encountered the dark face of the man he most hated on Yellow +Creek.</p> + +<p>In a moment he was all smiles.</p> + +<p>“Howdy, Buck,” he cried, as though the sight of him was the one thing +in the world he desired. Then he covertly winked at those nearest him.</p> + +<p>His wink conveyed all he intended, and the men turned and eyed the +newcomer curiously.</p> + +<p>Buck responded to the greeting indifferently, and proceeded to +business. He had not come for the pleasure of the visit. He passed a +slip of paper across the counter.</p> + +<p>“Can you do them for me?” he inquired. “Just cast an eye over that +list. If you’ll get ’em put up I’ll ride in in the mornin’ an’ fetch +’em out. I’ll need ’em early.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span></p><p>His manner was short and cold. It was his way with Beasley, but now +there was more in his mind to make for brevity.</p> + +<p>Beasley studied the paper closely. And as he read down the list a +smile spread over his mean face. It was a long list of supplies which +included rifle and revolver ammunition. He whistled softly.</p> + +<p>“Mackinaw!” Then he looked up into the dark eyes of the waiting man, +and his own expressed an unwonted good-humor. “Say, wot’s doin’ at the +fort? Gettin’ ready for a siege? Or—or are you an’ the Padre chasin’ +the long trail?”</p> + +<p>Buck’s thin cheeks flushed as he pointed at the paper.</p> + +<p>“You can do that for me?” he inquired still more coldly.</p> + +<p>Beasley shot a swift glance round at the interested faces of the men +standing by.</p> + +<p>“Oh, guess I can do it,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Sure I can do +it. Say, you fellers ain’t lightin’ out?”</p> + +<p>He winked again. This time it was deliberately at Buck.</p> + +<p>“They’re winter stores,” said Buck shortly.</p> + +<p>Then, as Beasley laughed right out, and he became aware of a general +smile at his expense, he grew hot.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” he demanded sharply. And his demand was not +intended for the saloon-keeper alone.</p> + +<p>“Ke’p your shirt on, Buck,” exclaimed Beasley, with studied +good-nature. “We couldn’t jest help but laff.” Then his eyes became +sentimentally serious. “Y’ see, we bin worried some. We wus guessin’ +when you came along. Y’ see, ther’s a sheriff an’ a big posse o’ +dep’ties comin’ right along to this yer camp. Y’ see, ther’s some guy +chasin’ around the hills, an’ he’s wanted fer—murder.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p><p>The man was watching for an effect in Buck’s face. But he might as +well have looked for expression in that of a sphinx.</p> + +<p>“Wal?”</p> + +<p>It was the only response Buck afforded him.</p> + +<p>“Wal,” Beasley shifted his gaze. He laughed feebly, and the onlookers +transferred their attention to him. “Y’ see, it was sort o’ laffable +you comin’ along buyin’ winter stores in August, an’ us jest guessin’ +what guy the sheriff would be chasin’—in the hills. He won’t be +smellin’ around the fort now?” He grinned amiably into the dark face. +But deep in his wicked eyes was an assurance which Buck promptly read.</p> + +<p>Nor did it take him a second to come to a decision. He returned the +man’s look with a coolness that belied his real feelings. He knew +beyond question that Mercy Lascelles had already commenced her +campaign against the Padre. He had learned of her journey into the +camp from Joan. The result of that journey had not reached him yet. At +least it was reaching him now.</p> + +<p>“You best hand it me straight, Beasley,” he said. “Guess nothin’ +straight is a heap in your line. But jest for once you’ve got no +corners to crawl around. Hand it out—an’ quick.”</p> + +<p>Buck’s manner was dangerously sharp set. There was a smouldering fire +growing in his passionate eyes. Beasley hesitated. But his hesitation +was only for the reason of his own growing heat. He made one last +effort to handle the matter in the way he had originally desired, +which was with a process of good-humored goading with which he hoped +to keep the company present on his side.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p><p>“Ther’s no offense, Buck,” he said. “At least ther’ sure needn’t to +be. You never could play easy. I wus jest handin’ you a laff—same as +we had.”</p> + +<p>“I’m waitin’,” said Buck with growing intensity, utterly ignoring the +explanation.</p> + +<p>But Beasley’s hatred of the man could not be long denied. Besides, his +last attempt had changed the attitude of the onlookers. There was a +lurking derision, even contempt in their regard for him. It was the +result of what had occurred before Buck’s coming. They expected him to +talk as plainly as he had done then. So he gave rein to the venom +which he could never long restrain.</p> + +<p>“Guess I hadn’t best ke’p you waitin’, sure,” he said ironically. Then +his eyes suddenly lit. “Winter stores, eh?” he cried derisively. +“Winter stores—an’ why’ll the Padre need ’em, the good kind Padre, +when the sheriff’s comin’ along to round him up fer—murder?”</p> + +<p>There was a moment of tense silence as the man flung his challenge +across the bar. Every eye in the room was upon the two men facing each +other. In the mind of every one present was only one expectation. The +lightning-like play of life and death.</p> + +<p>But the game they all understood so well was not forthcoming. For once +Buck’s heat was controlled by an iron will. To have shot Beasley down +where he stood would have been the greatest delight of his life, but +he restrained the impulse. There were others to think of. He forced +himself to calmness.</p> + +<p>Beasley had fired his shot in the firm conviction it would strike home +unfailingly. Yet he knew that it was not without a certain random in +it. Still, after what had been said, it was imperative to show no +weakening. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>He was certain the quarry was the Padre, and his +conviction received further assurance as he watched Buck’s face.</p> + +<p>For an instant Buck would willingly have hurled the lie in his teeth. +But to do so would have been to lie himself, and, later, for that lie +to be proved. There was only one course open to him to counter the +mischief of this man. He looked squarely into the saloon-keeper’s +face.</p> + +<p>“The truth don’t come easy to you, Beasley,” he said calmly, “unless +it’s got a nasty flavor. Guess that’s how it’s come your way to tell +it now.”</p> + +<p>“Winter stores,” laughed the man behind the bar. And he rubbed his +hands gleefully, and winked his delight in his own astuteness at the +men looking on.</p> + +<p>Then his face sobered, and it seemed as though all his animosity had +been absorbed in a profound regret. His whole attitude became the +perfection of a righteous indignation and sympathy, which almost +deceived Buck himself.</p> + +<p>“See here, Buck,” he exclaimed, leaning across his bar. “You an’ me +don’t always see things the same way. Guess I don’t allus hit it with +the Padre. No, I guess ther’ ain’t a heap of good feeling among the +three of us. But before you leave here I want to say jest one thing, +an’ it’s this. Sheriff or no sheriff, deputies or no deputies, if +they’re lookin’ fer the Padre for murder I say it’s a jumped-up fake. +That man couldn’t do a murder, not to save his soul. An’ it’ll give me +a whole heap o’ pleasure fixin’ up your winter stores. An’ good luck +to you both—when you hit the long trail.”</p> + +<p>A murmur of approval went round the room amongst those of the company +who remembered the days before <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span>the gold strike. And Beasley, in his +long career of mischief, almost achieved popularity.</p> + +<p>Buck could scarcely believe his ears. And his incredulity was not +lessened as he looked into the furtive eyes of the man who had +expressed himself so cordially.</p> + +<p>But he had been given the opportunity he knew he would need sooner or +later. He knew that there were men in the camp who would stand by the +Padre in emergency, and they must know the truth. Since Aunt Mercy’s +campaign had opened, and the news of it was spread abroad, these men +must be told the facts, and know his own attitude. He might well need +their assistance in the future, as they, in the past, had needed the +Padre’s.</p> + +<p>“I take it you mean that, Beasley,” he said without warmth. Then, +ignoring the man, he turned to those gathered about him. “I don’t know +how Beasley’s got this thing, fellers,” he said, in his simple +fashion. “It don’t matter, anyway. I hadn’t a notion the sheriff was +comin’ along yet, either. That don’t matter. Anyways I guessed he +would be comin’ sooner or later, an’ that’s the reason I’m layin’ in +stores of gun stuff an’ things. Yes, he’s comin’ for the Padre on a +charge of murder, a low-down charge of murder that he never committed. +You know the ways of the law, an’ how things sure go in such rackets. +The charge is nigh twenty years old. Wal, maybe it’ll be nigh +impossible for him to prove he didn’t do it. It looks that way. +Anyways, I tell you right here, ther’ ain’t no sheriff in this country +goin’ to git him while I’m alive. He’s raised me from a starvin’ kid, +an’ he’s bin the biggest thing on earth to me, an’ I’m goin’ to see +him through. You fellers, some o’ you, know the Padre. You know what +he’s done right here to help folks when <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>they were starvin’. He even +sold his farm to help. Sold it right out, an’ give up twenty years’ +work to hand grub to empty bellies. Wal, they want him fer murder. +Him, the best and straightest man I ever knew. I ain’t got nothin’ +more to say ’cept Beasley’s right—the sheriff’s comin’. An’ when he +comes he’ll find the hills hotter than hell fer him, an’ I’ll have a +hand in makin’ ’em that way.” He turned abruptly to Beasley, and +pointed at the paper lying on the counter. “You’ll do them things for +me, an’ I’ll get ’em to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>He turned away, flinging his farewell back over his shoulder as he +reached the door.</p> + +<p>“So long, fellers,” he cried, and pushed his way out.</p> + +<p>The moment he had gone every tongue was let loose. The gamblers cashed +their “chips” at the bar. There was no more play that afternoon. +Excitement ran high, and discussion was at fever heat. To a man those +who knew the Padre, and those who didn’t, commended Buck’s attitude. +And amongst the older hands of the camp was an ardent desire to take a +hand in resisting the law. Beasley was in agreement with nearly +everybody. He expressed a wonderful fury at the absurdity and +injustice, as he described it, of the charge. And, finally, he +possessed himself of the floor again for the purposes of his own +subtle scheming.</p> + +<p>“What did I tell you, fellers?” he cried, when he had obtained a +general hearing. “What did I tell you?” he reiterated in a fine fury. +“I don’t like him, but Buck’s a man. A straight, bully feller. He’s +goin’ to do the right thing. He’ll stand by that Padre feller while +he’s got a breath in his body, an’ he’ll shoot the sheriff up as sure +as sure. An’ why? Because that feller, the Padre, sold his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span>farm to +help us old hands. Because he sold his farm to that ‘Jonah’ gal, who’s +brought all this trouble about. If she hadn’t come around Pete an’ Ike +would have bin living now. If she hadn’t come around the Padre +wouldn’t be wanted for a murder he never committed. If she hadn’t come +around Buck wouldn’t have set himself up agin the law, an’ found +himself chasin’ the country over—an outlaw. D’yer see it? You’re +blind if you don’t.” He brought his clenched fist down on the counter +in a whirlwind of indignation. “She’s got to go,” he cried. “I tell +you, she’s got to go. Chase her out. Burn her out. Get rid of her from +here. An’ I got five hundred dollars says—do it.”</p> + +<p>Beasley knew his men. And in every eye he saw that they were with him +now. Nor could anything have pleased him more than when Curly shouted +his sudden sympathy.</p> + +<p>“Beasley’s right, boys,” he cried. “She’s brought the rotten luck. She +must go. Who’s to say whose turn it’ll be next?”</p> + +<p>“Bully for you,” cried Beasley. “Curly’s hit it. Who’s the next victim +of the rotten luck of this Golden Woman?”</p> + +<p>His final appeal carried the day. The men shouted a general approval, +and Beasley reveled inwardly in his triumph. He had played his hand +with all the skill at his command—and won. And now he was satisfied. +He knew he had started the ball rolling. It would grow. In a few hours +the majority of the camp would be with him. Then, when the time came, +he would play them for his own ends, and so pay off all his old +scores.</p> + +<p>The Padre would be taken. He would see to that. The sheriff should +know every detail of Buck’s intentions. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>Buck would ultimately be +taken—after being outlawed. And Joan—the proud beauty whom Buck was +in love with—well, if she got out with her life it would be about all +she would escape with.</p> + +<p>Beasley felt very happy.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>THE MOVING FINGER</h3> + +<p>The Padre stood at the top of the steps and looked out over the wide +stretching valley below him. His long day was drawing to a close, but +he felt no weariness of body. There was a weariness of mind, a +weariness of outlook. There was something gray and cold and hopeless +upon his horizon, something which left him regretful of all that which +lay within his view now.</p> + +<p>There was a half smile in his eyes, as, for a moment, they rested on +the narrow indistinct trail which looked so far below him. He was +thinking of that apparition he had met only a few days back, the +apparition which had suddenly leapt out of his past. It was all very +strange, very wonderful, the working of those mysterious things which +make it certain that no page in a human creature’s life can be turned +once and for all.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was all very wonderful. The hand of Fate had begun to move +against him when he had greeted that starving fragment of humanity at +the trail-side, more than twenty years ago. It had moved steadily +since then in every detail of his life. It had been progressing in the +work he had done in the building of his farm. Its moving finger had +pointed every day of Buck’s young life. In the necessities of those +poor gold-seekers it had shown its unerring direction, even in the +spirit which had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>prompted him to help them, which involved the +selling of his farm.</p> + +<p>Then he saw its bitter irony. It had done its work by bringing Joan +into contact with Buck, and, with cruel derision, had shown him how +unnecessary his sacrifice had been. Then had come all those other +things, moving so swiftly that it was almost impossible to count each +step in the iron progress of the moving finger. It had come with an +overwhelming rush which swept him upon its tide like a feather upon +the bosom of the torrent. And now, caught in the whirling rapids below +the mighty falls, he could only await the completion of the sentence +so long since pronounced.</p> + +<p>The smile broadened, spreading gently across his face. He realized he +was admitting all he had denied to Joan. But the thought brought him +no weakening. The wisdom of years had taught him much that must not be +communicated to a younger generation. Life would teach them in their +turn; they must not learn the truths which lay before them before +their time. It was better to lie than to destroy the hope of youth.</p> + +<p>His conscience was clear, his resolve perfect in its steadiness. The +happiness of two people was at stake. For Buck he would give up all. +There was no sacrifice too great. For Joan—she was the fair daughter +of his oldest friend. His duty was clear by her. There was one course, +and one course only that he could see for himself. To remove the last +shadow from these young lives he must face the ordeal which lay before +him. What its outcome might be he could not quite see, but he was not +without hope. There were certain details surrounding the death of his +friend which did not fit in with his guilt. He had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>no weapon upon him +in that house. Nor was there the least reason for the crime. He knew +he would be confronted by the evidence of a woman who hated him, a +woman capable of manufacturing evidence to suit her own ends. But, +whatever else she might do, she could not produce a weapon belonging +to him, nor could she invent a reason for the crime that could not be +disproved. At least this was the hope he clung to.</p> + +<p>However, he knew that he could not leave the shadow of his possible +guilt to cloud the lives of these two, just setting out on their long +journey together. The possibilities of it for harm were far too great. +The ocean of hot, youthful love was far too possible of disaster for +an unnecessary threat to overshadow it.</p> + +<p>No, he had refused the request of these two from the first moment when +he had realized his duty by them, and now, after careful thought, his +resolve remained unshaken.</p> + +<p>Still, he was not without regret as he gazed out over that vast world +he had learned to love so well. The thought of possibly never seeing +it again hurt him. The wide valleys, the fair, green pastures, the +frowning, mysterious woods with their utter silence, the butting crags +with their barren crests, or snow-clad shoulders. They held him in a +thrall of almost passionate devotion. They would indeed be hard to +part with.</p> + +<p>He looked away down the gaping jaws of the valley at the black crest +of Devil’s Hill. It was a point that never failed to attract him, and +now more so than ever. Was it not round this hill that all his past +efforts had been concentrated?</p> + +<p>He studied it. Its weirdness held him. A heavy mist enveloped its +crown, that steaming mist which ever <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>hung above the suspended lake. +It was denser now than usual. It had been growing denser for the last +two days, and, in a vague way, he supposed that those internal fires +which heated the water were glowing fiercer than usual. He glanced up +at the sky, and almost for the first time realized the arduous efforts +of the westering sun to penetrate the densely humid atmosphere. It was +stiflingly hot, when usually the air possessed a distinct chill.</p> + +<p>But these things possessed only a passing interest. The vagaries of +the mountain atmosphere rarely concerned him. His vigorous body was +quite impervious to its changes. He picked up his “catch” of pelts and +shouldered them. They were few enough, and as he thought of the +unusual scarcity of foxes the last few days he could not help feeling +that the circumstance was only in keeping with the rest of the passing +events of his life.</p> + +<p>He made his way along the foot-path which wound its way through the +pine bluff, in the midst of which the old fur fort lay hidden inside +its mouldering stockade. He flung the pelts into the storeroom, and +passed on to the house, wondering if Buck had returned from the camp, +whither he knew he had been that day.</p> + +<p>He found him busy amidst a pile of stores spread out upon the floor +and table, and a mild surprise greeted the youngster as he looked +round from his occupation.</p> + +<p>“You never said—you were getting stores, Buck?”</p> + +<p>The Padre eyed the pile curiously. Finally his eyes paused at the +obvious ammunition cases.</p> + +<p>Buck followed the direction of his gaze.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said; and turned again to his work of bestowing the goods in +the places he had selected for them.</p> + +<p>The Padre crossed the room and sat down. Then he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>leisurely began to +exchange his moccasins for a pair of comfortable house-shoes.</p> + +<p>“Had we run short?” he asked presently.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Buck’s manner was touched with something like brusqueness.</p> + +<p>“Then—why?”</p> + +<p>Buck straightened up, bearing in his arms an ammunition box.</p> + +<p>“Because we may need ’em,” he said, and bestowed the box under the +settle with a kick.</p> + +<p>“I don’t get you—that’s revolver ammunition you just put away.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Buck continued his work until the room was cleared. The other watched +him interestedly. Then as the younger man began to prepare their +supper the Padre again reverted to it.</p> + +<p>“Maybe you’ll tell me about ’em—now?” he said, with his easy smile.</p> + +<p>Buck had just set the kettle on the stove. He stood up, and a frown of +perplexity darkened his brow.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I won’t be able to get to camp again,” he said. “Maybe we’ll +need ’em for another reason.”</p> + +<p>“What other?”</p> + +<p>“The sheriff’s comin’. That woman’s sent for him. I’ve figgered out he +can’t get along till ’bout to-morrow night, or the next mornin’. +Anyway it don’t do to reckon close on how quick a sheriff can git +doin’.”</p> + +<p>The Padre’s smile had died out of his eyes. He sighed.</p> + +<p>“The sheriff’s coming, eh?” Then he went on after a pause. “But these +stores—I don’t see——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p><p>A dark flame suddenly lit Buck’s eyes, but though he broke in quickly +it was without the heat that was evidently stirring within him.</p> + +<p>“They’re for Joan, an’ me—an’ you. When the time comes guess we’re +going where no sheriff can follow us, if you don’t make trouble. I +don’t guess you need tellin’ of the valley below us. You know it, an’ +you know the steps. You know the canyon away on toward Devil’s Hill. +That’s the way we’re goin’—when the time comes. An’ I’d say there +ain’t no sheriff or dep’ties’ll care to follow us through that canyon. +After that we cut away north. Ther’s nobody can follow our trail that +way.”</p> + +<p>Something almost of defiance grew into his voice as he proceeded. He +was expecting denial, and was ready to resist it with all his force.</p> + +<p>The Padre shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Buck, Buck, this is madness—rank madness,” he cried. “To resist the +law in the way your hot head dictates is to outlaw yourselves beyond +all redemption. You don’t understand what you are doing. You don’t +know to what you are condemning this little Joan. You don’t know how +surely your methods will condemn <i>me</i>.”</p> + +<p>But Buck was on fire with rebellion against the injustice of a law +which claimed the Padre as its victim. He saw the hideous +possibilities following upon his friend’s arrest, and was determined +to give his life in the service of his defense.</p> + +<p>“It’s not madness,” he declared vehemently. “It’s justice, real +justice that we should defend our freedom. If you wer’ guilty, Padre, +it would be dead right to save yourself. It’s sure the right of +everything to save its life. If you’re innocent you sure got still +more right. Padre, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span>I tell you they mean to fix you. That woman’s got +a cinch she ain’t lettin’ go. She’s lived for this time, Joan’s told +me. She’ll raise plumb hell to send you to your death. Padre, just +listen to us. It’s me an’ Joan talkin’ now. What I say she says. We +can see these things different to you; we’re young. You say it’s your +duty to give up to this woman. We say it’s our duty you <i>shan’t</i>. If +you give up to her you’re giving up to devil’s mischief, an’ that’s +dead wrong. An’ nothin’ you can say can show me you got a right to +help devil’s work. We’ll light out of here before they come. Us three. +If you stop here, we stop too, an’ that’s why I got the ammunition. +More than that. Ther’s others, too, won’t see you taken. Ther’s +fellers with us in the camp—fellers who owe you a heap—like I do.”</p> + +<p>The Padre watched the steam rising from the kettle with moody eyes. +The youngster was tempting him sorely. He knew Buck’s determination, +his blind loyalty. He felt that herein lay his own real danger. Yes, +to bolt again, as he had done that time before, would be an easy way +out. But its selfishness was too obvious. He could not do it. To do so +would be to drag them in his train of disaster, to blight their lives +and leave them under the grinding shadow of the law.</p> + +<p>No, it could not be.</p> + +<p>“Looked at from the way you look at it, there is right enough in what +you say, boy,” he said kindly. “But you can’t look at civilized life +as these mountains teach you to look at things. When the sheriff comes +I yield to arrest, and I trust in God to help us all. My mind is made +up.”</p> + +<p>For some moments Buck stared down at the sturdy friend who had taken +the place of his dead father. His <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span>eyes softened, and their fire died +out. But there was no rescinding of his desperate decision. He was +thinking of what it would mean, the thought of this white-haired man +in the hands of the executioner. He was thinking of the kindly heart +beating within that stalwart bosom. He was thinking of the wonderful, +thoughtful kindness for others which was always the motive of his +life. And a deep-throated curse rose to his lips. But it found no +utterance. It could not in that presence.</p> + +<p>“An’ my mind’s made up,” he jerked out at last, with concentrated +force. Then he added with an abrupt softening, “Let’s eat, Padre. I +was forgettin’. Mebbe you’re hungry some.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>THE JOY OF BEASLEY</h3> + +<p>An unusual number of horses were tethered at the posts outside +Beasley’s saloon, and, a still more unusual thing, their owners, for +the most part, were not in their usual places within the building. +Most of them were lounging on the veranda in various attitudes best +calculated to rest them from the effects of the overpowering heat of +the day. Beasley was lounging with them. For once he seemed to have +weakened in his restless energy, or found something of greater +interest than that of netting questionable gains.</p> + +<p>The latter seemed to be the more likely, for his restless eyes +displayed no lack of mental activity. At any rate, he displayed an +attitude that afternoon which startled even his bartender. Not once, +but several times that individual, of pessimistic mood, had been +called upon to dispense free rations of the worst possible liquor in +the place, until, driven from wonder to protest, he declared, with +emphatic conviction and an adequate flow of blasphemy, addressing +himself to the bottles under the counter, the smeary glasses he +breathed upon while wiping with a soiled and odoriferous cloth, that +the boss was “bug—plumb bug.” Nevertheless, his own understanding of +“crookedness” warned him that the man had method, and he was anxious +to discover the direction in which it was moving. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span>Therefore he +watched Beasley’s doings with appreciative eyes, and his interest grew +as the afternoon waned.</p> + +<p>“He’s on a crook lay,” he told himself after a while. And the thought +brightened his outlook upon life, and helped to banish some of his +pessimism.</p> + +<p>The chief feature of interest for him lay in the fact that the men +foregathered were a collection of those who belonged to the +“something-for-nothing” class, as he graphically described them. And +he observed, too, that Beasley was carefully shepherding them. There +were a few of the older hands of the camp, but these seemed to have +less interest for his boss. At least he showed far less consideration +for them. And it quickly became evident that the whole afternoon’s +object was the adequate ingratiation and stimulation of these dregs of +frontier life.</p> + +<p>This the bartender saw quite clearly. For the rest he was content to +wait. He had spent most of his life in thus waiting and watching the +nefarious schemes of unscrupulous men.</p> + +<p>The heat was overpowering. It was almost an effort to breathe, let +alone move about. The men lolled, propped against the baulks of timber +supporting the veranda roof, stretched out on benches, or crouching on +the raised edge of the wooden flooring. One and all were in a state of +wiltering in the stewing heat, from which only an intermittent flow of +fiery spirit could rouse them.</p> + +<p>Beasley was the one exception to this general condition of things. +Mentally he was particularly alert. And, what is more, his temper, +usually so irritable and fiery, was reduced to a perfect level of good +humor.</p> + +<p>For some moments talk had died out. Then in a sudden <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span>fit of +irritability Abe Allinson kicked a loose stone in the direction of the +tethered horses.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he observed, “this ’minds one o’ the time we struck color at +the hill.”</p> + +<p>His eyes wandered toward the gathering shadows, slowly obscuring the +grim sides of Devil’s Hill. His remark was addressed to no one in +particular.</p> + +<p>Beasley took him up. It was his purpose to keep these men stirring.</p> + +<p>“How?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Why, the heat. Say, git a peek at that sky. Look yonder. The sun. Get +them durned banks o’ cloud swallerin’ it right up atop o’ them hills. +Makes you think, don’t it? That’s storm. It’s comin’ big—an’ before +many hours.”</p> + +<p>“For which we’ll all be a heap thankful.” Beasley laughed. “Another +day of this an’ I’ll be done that tender a gran’ma could eat me.”</p> + +<p>His remark drew a flicker of a smile.</p> + +<p>“She’d need good ivories,” observed the gambler, Diamond Jack, with +mild sarcasm.</p> + +<p>Beasley took the remark as a compliment to his business capacity, and +grinned amiably.</p> + +<p>“Jack’s right. You’d sure give her an elegant pain, else,” added +Curly, in a tired voice. He was steadily staring down the trail in a +manner that suggested indifference to any coming storm. Somebody +laughed half-heartedly. But Curly had no desire to enliven things, and +went on quite seriously.</p> + +<p>“Say, when’s this bum sheriff gettin’ around?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>Beasley took him up at once.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p><p>“Some time to-night,” he said, in a well-calculated tone of +resentment. “That’s why I got you boys around now,” he added +significantly.</p> + +<p>“You mean——?” Diamond Jack nodded in the direction of the farm.</p> + +<p>Beasley nodded.</p> + +<p>“That old crow bait got back early this mornin’,” he went on. “I was +waitin’ on her. She guessed she hadn’t a thing to say, an’ I surely +was up agin a proposition. So I jest made out I was feelin’ good +seein’ her git back, an’ told her I wa’an’t lookin’ for information +she didn’t guess she was givin’, and ther’ wasn’t no need fer her to +say a thing. She guessed that was so. After that I passed things by, +sayin’ how some o’ the boys hated sheriffs wuss’n rattlesnakes—an’ +she laffed. Yes, sir, she laffed, an’ it must have hurt her some. +Anyways she opened out at that, an’ said, if any boys hated the sight +of sheriffs they’d better hunt their holes before sun-up. Guess she +didn’t just use them words, but she give ’em that time limit. Say, if +I was the Padre I’d sooner have the devil on my trail than that +old—bunch o’ marrow bones.”</p> + +<p>Slaney looked up from the bench on which he was spread out.</p> + +<p>“Guess he’ll have wuss’n her when Bob Richards gets around,” he said +gloomily.</p> + +<p>“D’you reckon they’ll git him—with Buck around?” inquired Curly +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Buck! Tcha!” Beasley’s dislike for the moment got the better of his +discretion. But he quickly realized his mistake, and proceeded to +twist his meaning. “It makes me mad. It makes me plumb crazed when I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span>think o’ that bully feller, the Padre, bein’ give dead away by the +folks at the farm. Buck? Psha’! Who’s Buck agin a feller like Bob +Richards? Bob’s the greatest sheriff ever stepped in Montana. He’ll +twist Buck so he won’t know rye whisky from sow-belly. Buck’s grit, +elegant grit, but Bob—wal, I’d say he’s the wisest guy west of +Chicago, when it comes to stringin’ up a crook.”</p> + +<p>“I’m with you, boss,” cried Diamond Jack, in a quick rage. “This farm +needs lookin’ to to-night sure. We got to git in ’fore sheriffs git +around. They’re playin’ a low-down racket. Jonahs don’t cut no ice +with me, but they’re chasin’ up glory agin the camp. That’s how I read +it. Guess none of us is saints, anyways I don’t seem to hear no wings +flappin’; but givin’ folks up to the law is—low.”</p> + +<p>Abe Allinson grunted, and a general atmosphere of silent approval +prevailed. Beasley, whose eyes were watching every expression, pushed +the ball further along.</p> + +<p>“Low?” he cried. “You, Jack, don’t know the guy we’re so dead keen to +help out. If you did you’d git right up on to your hind legs an’ cuss +terrible—an’ you’ve cussed some in your time. But for him this camp +wouldn’t be the bonanza it is. You wouldn’t be nettin’ a pile of +dollars every night in my bar. I wouldn’t be runnin’ a big proposition +in dollar makin’. These boys wouldn’t be chasin’ gold on full bellies. +Gee, it makes me mad—an’ thirsty. Let’s get around inside an’ see +what that glass rustler of mine can do.”</p> + +<p>The response was immediate and complete. No man had ever been known to +refuse Beasley’s hospitality. Everybody drank. And they drank again at +Diamond Jack’s expense. Then later they drank at their own. And <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>all +the while Beasley, with consummate skill, shepherded them to his own +ends.</p> + +<p>It was truly wonderful to see the manner in which he handled them. He +adopted the simplest tactics, once he had set the ball rolling, +contenting himself with dropping in a word here and there every time +the subject of the sheriff drifted toward his ears. He knew these men. +He possessed that keenness of insight into his customers which no +successful saloon-keeper fails to acquire. He understood their +weaknesses in a manner which left it a simple enough task to play upon +them. In this case the basis of his procedure was drink—strong, harsh +whisky, of a violent type.</p> + +<p>The banking clouds rose ponderously upon the hilltops, blacking out +the twilight with an abruptness which must have held deep significance +for men less occupied. But the dominant overcast of their minds was +the coming of the sheriff. For many of them it was far more ominous +than any storm of nature.</p> + +<p>The bar filled to overflowing. No one cared to gamble. There would +have been no room for them, anyway. Even Diamond Jack showed no +inclination to pursue his trade. Perhaps this was the most significant +feature of all.</p> + +<p>His was a weighty word thrown in the balance of public opinion. +Perhaps this was the result of his well-understood shrewdness. At any +rate he never failed to find a ready audience for his opinions, and +to-night his opinions were strongly and forcefully declared. Beasley +listened to him with interest, and smiled as he observed him moving +about amongst the crowd drinking with one, treating another, his +tongue never idle in his denunciation of sheriffs, and all those who +called in their aid. It almost <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span>seemed as if the man was acting under +orders, orders, perhaps inspired by a subtler mind, to disguise the +real source whence they sprang.</p> + +<p>The gambler was truly a firebrand, and so well did he handle his +people, so well did he stir them by his disgust and righteous horror +at the employment of a sheriff in their midst, that by nine o’clock +the camp was loud in its clamor for retribution to be visited upon +those who had brought such a terror into their midst.</p> + +<p>Beasley’s amiability grew. His bartender watched it in amazement. But +it oppressed him. His pessimism resented it. He hated joy, and the +evidences of joy in others. There was real pleasure for him in Diamond +Jack’s hectoring denunciations. It was something which appealed to +him. Besides, he could see the gambler was harassed, perhaps afraid of +the sheriff himself. He even envied him his fear. But Beasley’s +satisfaction was depressing, and, as a protest, he neglected to +overcharge the more drunken of their customers. Beasley must not have +all the satisfaction.</p> + +<p>But, as far as Beasley was concerned, the bartender was little better +than a piece of furniture that night. His employer had almost +forgotten his existence. Truth to tell, Beasley had lost his head in +his disease of venom. One thought, and one thought only urged him. +To-night, before the advent of the sheriff to seize upon the person of +the hated Padre, he hoped, by one stroke, to crush the heart of Buck, +and bow the proud head of the girl who had so plainly showed her +dislike and contempt for him, in the dust of shame and despair.</p> + +<p>It was a moment worth waiting for. It was a moment of joy he would not +lightly forego. Nor did he care what <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>time, patience, or money it cost +him. To strike at those whom he hated was as the breath of life to +him. And he meant to drink deeply of his cup of joy.</p> + +<p>His moment came. It came swiftly, suddenly, like most matters of great +import. His opportunity came at the psychological moment, when the +last shred of temperance had been torn from wild, lawless hearts, +which, in such moments, were little better than those of savage +beasts. It came when the poison of complaint and bitterness had at +last searched out the inmost recesses of stunted, brutalized minds. +And Beasley snatched at it hungrily, like a worm-ridden dog will +snatch at the filthiest offal.</p> + +<p>The drunken voice of Abe Allinson lifted above the general din. He was +lolling against one end of the counter, isolated from his fellows by +reason of his utterly stupefied condition. He was in a state when he +no longer had interest for his companions. He rolled about blear-eyed +and hopelessly mumbling, with a half-emptied glass in his hand, which +he waved about uncertainly. Suddenly an impotent spasm of rage seemed +to take hold of him. With a hoarse curse he raised his glass and +hurled it crashing against the wall. Then, with a wild, prolonged +whoop he shouted the result of his drunken cogitations.</p> + +<p>“We’ll burn ’em! Drown ’em! Shoot ’em! Hang ’em! Come on, fellers, +foller me!”</p> + +<p>He made a staggering effort to leave his support. He straightened up. +For a moment he poised, swaying. Then he pitched forward on his face +and lay stretched full length upon the floor.</p> + +<p>But all had heard. And Beasley snatched at his opportunity. He sprang +upon the counter in the moment <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span>of astonished quiet, and, before +tongues broke loose again, he had the whole attention of the crowd.</p> + +<p>“Here, boys,” he cried. “Abe’s right. Drunk as he is, he’s right. Only +he sure wants to do too much—more than his legs’ll let him.” He +grinned. “We’re goin’ to do this thing right now. But we’re goin’ to +do it like good citizens of a dandy city. We ain’t goin’ to act like a +gang of lynchers. We’re dealin’ with a gal, with gold ha’r an’ blue +eyes, an’ we’re goin’ to deal accordin’. We ain’t lookin’ fer her +life. That’s too easy, an’, wal—she’s a woman. No, we’re goin’ to rid +this place of her an’ all her tribe. We’re goin’ to make it so she +can’t stop to do no more harm, bringin’ sheriffs around. We’re goin’ +to burn her home right out, an’ we’re goin’ to set her in her wagon +an’ team, an’ let her drive to hell out of here. We’re goin’ to do it +right now, before the sheriff gets busy along here. After that we’ll +be too late. Are you game? Who’s comin’? We’re goin’ to burn that +Jonah farm till ther’ ain’t a stick left above ground to say it ever +stood there. That’s what we’re goin’ to do, an’ I’m the man who’ll +start the bonfire. Say, we’ll make it like a fourth o’ July. We’ll +have one royal time—an’ we’ll be quit of all Jonahs.”</p> + +<p>As he finished speaking he leapt to the ground amidst the crowd. Nor +did he need to wait to hear the response to his appeal. It came in one +of those unanimous, drunken roars, only to be heard in such a place, +at such a time, or on a battle-field, when insensate fury demands a +raucous outlet. Every man in the place, lost, for the moment, to all +the dictates of honest manhood, was ready to follow the leadership of +one whom, in sober moments, they all disliked. It was an extraordinary +exhibition of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span>the old savage which ever lies so near the surface in +men upon the fringe of civilization.</p> + +<p>Nor did Beasley give them time to think. His orders came rapidly. The +bartender, for once his eyes sparkling at the thought of trouble about +to visit an unsuspecting fellow-creature, hurled himself to the task +of dealing out one large final drink to everybody. Then when a +sufficient supply of materials of an inflammatory nature had been +gathered together, the saloon-keeper placed himself at the head of his +men, supported by the only too willing Diamond Jack, and the +procession started out.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>STRONGER THAN DEATH</h3> + +<p>From the time of her aunt’s going to Leeson Butte to the morning of +her return to the farm Joan passed through a nightmare of uncertainty +and hopelessness. Every moment of her time seemed unreal. Her very +life seemed unreal. It was as though her mind were detached from her +body, and she was gazing upon the scenes of a drama in which she had +no part, while yet she was weighted down with an oppressive fear of +the tragedy which she knew was yet to come.</p> + +<p>Every moment she felt that the threat of disaster was growing. That it +was coming nearer and nearer, and that now no power on earth could +avert it.</p> + +<p>Twice only during that dreary interval of waiting she saw Buck. But +even his presence did little more than ease her dread and despair, +leaving it crushing her down the more terribly with the moment of his +going. He came to her with his usual confidence, but it was only with +information of his own preparations for his defense of his friend. She +could listen to them, told in his strong, reliant manner, with hope +stirring her heart and a great, deep love for the man thrilling her +every nerve. But with his going came the full realization of the +significance of the necessity of such preparations. The very +recklessness of them warned her beyond doubt how small was the chance +of the Padre’s escape. Buck had declared his certainty <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span>of outwitting +the law, even if it necessitated using force against the man whom he +intended to save.</p> + +<p>Left to her own resources Joan found them weak enough. So weak indeed +that at last she admitted to herself that the evidences of the curse +that had dogged her through life were no matters of distorted +imagination. They were real enough. Terribly real. And the admission +found her dreading and helpless. She knew she had gone back to the +fatal obsession, which, aided by the Padre and her lover, she had so +loyally contended. She knew in those dark moments she was weakly +yielding. These men had come into her life, had sown fresh seeds of +promise, but they had been sown in soil choked with weeds of +superstition, and so had remained wholly unfruitful.</p> + +<p>How could it be otherwise? Hard upon the heels of Buck’s love had come +this deadly attack of fate upon him and his. The miracle of it was +stupendous. It had come in a way that was utterly staggering. It had +come, not as with those others who had gone before, but out of her +life. It had come direct from her and hers. And the disaster +threatened was not merely death but disgrace, disgrace upon a good +man, even upon her lover, which would last as long as they two had +life.</p> + +<p>The sense of tragedy merged into the maddening thought of the +injustice of it. It was monstrous. It was a tyranny for which there +was no justification, and it goaded her to the verge of hysteria. +Whatever she did now the hand of fate would move on irrevocably +fulfilling its purpose to the bitter end. She knew it. In spite of all +Buck’s confidence, all his efforts to save his friend, the disaster +would be accomplished, and her lover would be lost to her in the +vortex of her evil destiny.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span></p><p>Fool—fool that she had been. Wicked even, yes, wicked, that she had +not foreseen whither her new life was drifting. It was for her to have +anticipated the shoals of trouble in the tide of Buck’s strong young +life. It was for her to have prevented the mingling of their lives. It +was for her to have shut him out of her thoughts and denied him access +to the heart that beat so warmly for him. She had been weak, so weak. +On every count she had failed to prove the strength she had believed +herself to possess. It was a heart-breaking thought.</p> + +<p>But she loved. It would have been impossible to have denied her love. +She would not have denied it if she could. Her rebellion against her +fate now carried her further. She had the right to love this man. She +had the right which belongs to every woman in the world. And he +desired her love. He desired it above all things in the world—and he +had no fear.</p> + +<p>Then the strangeness of it. With all that had gone before she had had +no misgivings until the moment he had poured out all the strength of +his great love into her yearning ears. She had not recognized the +danger besetting them. She had not paused to ask a question of +herself, to think of the possibilities. She loved him, and the thought +of his love thrilled her even now amidst all her despair. But the +moment his words of love had been spoken, even with the first +wonderful thrill of joy had come the reality of awakening. Then—then +it was that the evil of her fate had unmasked itself and showed its +hideous features, leering, mocking, in the memory of what had gone +before, taunting her for her weakly efforts to escape the doom marked +out for her.</p> + +<p>All this she thought of in her black moments. All this <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span>and far, far +more than could ever take shape in words. And her terror of what was +to come became unspeakable. But through it all one thing, one gleam of +hope obtruded itself. It was not a tangible hope. It was not even a +hope that could have found expression. It was merely a picture that +ever confronted her, even when darkness seemed most nearly to +overwhelm her.</p> + +<p>It was the picture of Buck’s young face, full of strength and +confidence. Somehow the picture was always one of hope. It caught no +reflection of her own trouble, but lived in her memory undiminished by +any despair, however black.</p> + +<p>Once or twice she found herself wondering at it. Sometimes she felt it +to be merely a trick of memory to taunt her with that which could +never be, and so she tried to shut out the vague hopes it aroused. +But, as time went on, and the hour for her aunt’s return drew near, +the recurrence of the picture became so persistent that it was rarely +out of her mental vision. It was a wonderful thought. She saw him as +she had seen him when first he laughed her threat of disaster and +death to scorn. She could never forget that moment. She could hear his +laugh now, that laugh, so full of youthful courage, which had rung +through the old barn.</p> + +<p>Pondering thus her mind suddenly traveled back to something which, in +the midst of all her tribulations, had completely passed out of her +recollection. She was startled. She was startled so that she gasped +with the sudden feeling it inspired. What was it? Something her aunt +had said. Yes, she remembered now. And with memory the very words came +back to her, full of portentous meaning. And as they rushed pell-mell +through <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span>her straining brain a great uplifting bore her toward that +hope which she suddenly realized was not yet dead.</p> + +<p>“Go you and find a love so strong that no disaster can kill it. And +maybe life may still have some compensations for you, maybe it will +lift the curse from your suffering shoulders. It—it is the only thing +in the world that is stronger than disaster. It is the only thing in +the world that is stronger than—death.”</p> + +<p>They were her aunt’s words spoken in the vehemence of her prophetic +passion. It was the one thing, she had warned her, that could save +her.</p> + +<p>Was this the love she had found? Was this the love to lead her to +salvation—this wonderful love of Buck’s? Was this that which was to +leave life some compensations? Was this that which was stronger than +disaster—than death? Yes, yes! Her love was her life. And now without +it she must die. Yes, yes! Buck—young, glorious in his courage and +strength. He was stronger than disaster, and their love—was it not +stronger than death?</p> + +<p>From the moment of this wonderful recollection, a gentle calm +gradually possessed her. The straining of those two long wakeful +nights, the nightmare of dread which had pursued her into the daylight +hours, left her with a sudden ease of thought she had never hoped to +find again. It all came back to her. Her aunt had told her whither she +must seek the key that would unlock the prison gates of fate, and all +inadvertently she had found it.</p> + +<p>In Buck’s love must lay her salvation. With that stronger than death +no disaster could come. He was right, and she was all wrong. He had +laughed them to scorn—she must join in his laugh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span></p><p>So at last came peace. The last wakeful night before the morning of +her aunt’s return terminated in a few hours of refreshing, much-needed +slumber. Hope had dawned, and the morrow must bring the morrow’s +events. She would endeavor to await them with something of the +confidence which supported Buck.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The room was still, so still that its atmosphere might have been +likened to the night outside, which was heavy with the presage of +coming storm. There was a profound feeling of opposing forces at work, +yet the silence remained undisturbed.</p> + +<p>It was nearly nine o’clock, and the yellow lamplight shed its soft +monotony over the little parlor, revealing the occupants of the room +in attitudes of tense concentration, even antagonism. Mercy Lascelles +swayed slowly to and fro in the new rocking-chair Joan had purchased +for her comfort. Her attenuated figure was huddled down in that +familiar attitude which the girl knew so well, but her face wore an +expression which Joan had never beheld before.</p> + +<p>Usually her hard eyes were coldly unsmiling. Now they +smiled—terribly. Usually her thin cheeks were almost dead white in +their pallor. Now they were flushed and hectic with a suggestion of +the inward fire that lit her eyes. The harsh mouth was irrevocably +set, till nose and chin looked as though they soon must meet, while +the hideous dark rings showed up the cruel glare of her eyes, which +shone diabolically.</p> + +<p>Joan stood some paces away. She was looking down aghast at the +crouching figure, and her eyes were horrified. This was the first she +had seen of her relative <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span>since her return that morning. The old woman +had shut herself up in her bedroom, refusing to speak, or to eat, all +day. But now she had emerged from her seclusion, and Joan had been +forced to listen to the story of her journey.</p> + +<p>It was a painful story, and still more painfully told. It was full of +a cruel enjoyment such as never in her life Joan had believed this +woman capable of. Her eccentricities were many, her nervous tendencies +strange and often weird, but never had such a side of her character as +she now presented been allowed to rise to the surface.</p> + +<p>At first Joan wondered as she listened. She wondered at the fierce +purpose which underlaid this weakly body. But with each passing +moment, with each fresh detail of her motives and methods, her wonder +deepened to a rapidly growing conviction which filled her with horror +and repulsion. She told herself that the woman was no longer sane. At +last she had fallen a victim to her racked and broken nerves, as the +doctors had prophesied. To them, and to the everlasting brooding upon +her disappointments and injuries for all these long years.</p> + +<p>This she felt, and yet the feeling conveyed no real conviction to her +mind. All she knew was that loathing and repulsion stirred her, until +the thought revolted her that she was breathing the same air as one +who could be capable of such vicious cruelty. But she struggled to +stifle all outward sign. And though she was only partly successful she +contrived to keep her words calm, even if her eyes, those windows of +her simple girl’s soul, would not submit to such control.</p> + +<p>“I’m over fifty now, girl,” Mercy finished up, in a low <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span>suppressed +tone, husky with feeling, yet thrilling with a cruel triumph. “Over +fifty, and, for the last twenty and more years of it, I have waited +for this moment. I have waited with a patience you can never +understand because you have never been made to suffer as I have. But I +knew it would come. I have known it every day of those twenty years, +because I have read it in that book in which I have read so many +things which concern human life. I was robbed of life years and years +ago. Yes, life. I have been a dead woman these twenty years. My life +was gone when your father died, leaving you, another woman’s child, in +my hands. God in heaven! Sometimes I wonder why I did not strangle the +wretched life out of you years ago—you, another woman’s child, but +yet with Charles Stanmore’s blood in your veins. Perhaps it was +because of that I spared your life. Perhaps it was because I read your +fate, and knew you had to suffer, that I preferred my sister’s child +should reap the reward of her mother’s crime—yes, crime. Perhaps it +was that while Charles Stanmore lived my hopes and longings were still +capable of fulfilment. But he is dead—dead years and years ago. And +with his death my life went out too. Now there is only revenge. No, +not revenge,” she laughed, “justice to be dealt out. That justice it +is my joy to see dispensed. That justice it is my joy to feel that my +hand has brought its administering about.</p> + +<p>“I have laid all the information necessary. I have a lawyer in Leeson +Butte in communication with my man in New York. And—and the sheriff +and his men will be here before daylight. Oh, yes, I can afford to +tell you now that the work is accomplished. You shall have no +opportunity of communicating with your friends. I shall <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span>not sleep +to-night. Nor will you leave this house. There is a means of holding +you here. A means which will never be far from my hand.” She tapped +the bosom of her dress significantly, and Joan understood that she had +armed herself. “The arrest will be made while they are still sleeping +in that old fort of theirs—and your young Buck will pay the penalty +if he interferes. Yes, yes,” she added, rubbing her lean, almost +skeleton hands together in an access of satisfaction, “when you sip +your coffee in the morning, my girl, your Buck’s foster-father will be +on his way to the jail from which he will only emerge for the comfort +of an electric chair. I have endured twenty years of mental torture, +but—I have not endured them in vain.”</p> + +<p>The cold, consummate completeness with which the woman detailed her +carefully considered plans turned Joan’s heart to stone. It chilled +her and left her shivering in the awful heat. For one moment, one weak +moment when her woman’s spirit quailed before the deadly array of +facts, she felt faint, and one hand sought the table for support. But +with a tremendous effort she recovered herself. It was the thought of +Buck which helped her. She could not let him fall into the trap so +well laid by this—this creature, without an effort to save them both. +In a flash her mind pictured the scene of the Padre’s capture. She saw +the fort surrounded by the “deputies.” She saw the Padre shackled +before he could rise from his blankets. She saw Buck, under cover of +ruthless firearms, hurl himself to the rescue and pay for his temerity +with his life. In a sudden overwhelming passion of appeal she flung +herself on her knees before the terrible old woman.</p> + +<p>“Aunt, aunt!” she cried. “You cannot be so heartless, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span>so cruel. There +is a mistake. You are mistaken. The Padre swears to his innocence, and +if you knew him as I know him, as all this countryside knows him, you +<i>must</i> believe. He is not capable of murder. My father committed +suicide. Think, think of all that went before his death, and you, too, +will see that everything points to suicide. Oh, aunt, think of what +you are doing. The plans you have made <i>must</i> involve the man I love. +A perfectly innocent man, as even you know. If my father was all your +world, so is Buck all mine. He will defend the Padre. I know him. And +as you say he will pay the penalty with his life. If you have one +grain of pity, if you have one remaining thought of love for my dead +father, then spare this man to his daughter. Where is the right that +you should involve Buck? You do not even know him. Oh, aunt, you have +lived all these twenty years with me. In your own way you have cared +for me. Sacrifice your enmity against this innocent man. It will give +you a peace of mind you have never known before, and will give me the +happiness of the man I love.”</p> + +<p>Mercy’s eyes lit with fine scorn as she caught at Joan’s final words.</p> + +<p>“The happiness of the man you love!” she cried with passionate anger, +“Why should I give you your man’s love? Why should I help any woman to +a happiness I have never been allowed to taste? Perhaps it pleases me +to think that your Buck will be involved. Have I not warned you of the +disaster which you have permitted him to court? Listen, girl, not one +detail of all that which I have waited for will I forego. Not one +detail. When it is accomplished nothing on earth matters to me. The +sooner I am off it the better. The sooner I leave this world for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span>other realms the sooner I shall be able to pursue those others who +have injured me and passed on to—a fresh habitation. Do you +understand? Do you understand that I will brook no interference from +you? Peace, child, I want no more talk. When this night is over I +leave here—nor shall I ever willingly cross your path again. You are +another woman’s child, and so long as you live, so long as we are +brought into contact, the sting of the past must ever remain in my +heart. Go to your bed, and leave me to watch and wait until the +morning.”</p> + +<p>The old woman’s domination was strong—it was so strong that Joan felt +appalled before the terrible mental force she was putting forth. The +horror of her diseased mind sickened her, and filled her with +something closely allied to terror. But she would not submit. Her love +was greater than her courage, her power to resist for herself. She was +thinking of those two men, but most of all she was thinking of Buck. +She was determined upon another effort. And when that effort was +spent—upon still another.</p> + +<p>“Listen to me, aunt,” she cried with no longer any attempt at appeal, +with no longer any display of regard for this woman as a relation. “I +am mistress in my own house, and I shall do as I choose. I, too, shall +sit up and you will have to listen to me.”</p> + +<p>Mercy smiled ironically.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you are mistress in your own house, so long as you do not +attempt to interfere with my plans. Sit up, girl, if you choose, and +talk. I am prepared to listen even though your twaddle bores me.”</p> + +<p>A sound caught Joan’s attention, and the desperate position of her +lover and his friend set thought flashing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span>swiftly through her mind. +The sound was of Mrs. Ransford moving in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“Then listen to this,” she cried. “You have told me that I am cursed. +You have told me that death and disaster must follow me wherever I go. +I love Buck. It is the first and only time I shall ever love. I know +that. He is the love of my whole life. Without him, without his love, +life to me is inconceivable. He and his love are so precious to me +that I would give my life for his at any moment—now, if need be. I +want you to know that. You have armed yourself so that I shall not +interfere with your plans. I tell you it is useless, for I shall warn +him—cost me what it may.”</p> + +<p>She watched the other closely. She watched for the effect of her +words—every one of which was spoken from the bottom of her heart. The +effect was what she anticipated. She knew this woman’s expressed +intention was deliberate, and would be carried out. One hand moved +toward her lean bosom, and Joan knew, without doubt, what she had to +face. Turning her back deliberately she moved across to the window, +which was wide open in a vain attempt to cool the superheated room, +and took up her place near the table, so that she was in full view of +her aunt’s insane eyes. Then she went on at once—</p> + +<p>“You call it justice that you would mete out to the Padre. I tell you +it is a ruthless, cold-hearted revenge, which amounts to deliberate +murder. It is murder because you know he cannot prove his innocence. +That, perhaps, is your affair. But Buck’s life is mine. And in +threatening the Padre you threaten him, because he will defend his +friend to the last. Perhaps by this, in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span>your insane vanity, you hope +to justify yourself as a seer and prophetess, instead of being forced +to the admission that you are nothing but a mountebank, an +unscrupulous mountebank—and even worse. But I will humor you. I will +show you how your own words are coming back on you. I had almost +forgotten them, so lost was I in my foolish belief in your powers. You +told me there was salvation for me in a love that was stronger than +death. Well, I have found that love. And if, as you claim, there is +truth in your science, then I challenge you, the disaster and death +you would now bring about cannot—will not take place. You are only a +woman of earthly powers, a heartless creature, half demented by your +venomous hatred of a good man. Your ends can, and will be defeated.”</p> + +<p>She paused, breathing hard with the emotion which the effort of her +denunciation had inspired, and in that pause she beheld a vision of +devilish hatred and purpose such as she could never have believed +possible in her aunt.</p> + +<p>“You would rebel! You challenge me!” cried Mercy, springing from her +chair with a movement almost unbelievable in so ailing a creature. +“You are mad—utterly mad. It is not I who am insane, but you—you. +You call me a mountebank. What has your life been? Has not everything +I have told you been part of it? Even here—here. Did I not tell you +you could not escape your curse? Have you escaped it? And you think +you can escape it now.” She laughed suddenly, a hideous laugh which +set Joan shuddering. “The love you have found must prove itself. You +say it is the love that will save you. I tell you it is not. Nothing +can <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span>save this man now. Nothing can save your Buck if he interferes +now. Nothing can save you, if you interfere now. I tell you I have +taken every care that there is no loophole of escape. No earthly power +can serve you.”</p> + +<p>“No earthly power?” Joan echoed the words unconsciously, while she +stood fascinated by that terrible face so working with malignant +hatred.</p> + +<p>But only for a moment it held her. Her love was stronger that all her +woman’s fears. Her Buck was in danger, and that other. The warning. +She must get that warning to them.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she leant forward upon the table as though to emphasize what +she had to say.</p> + +<p>“Whatever happens to-night, aunt,” she cried, her big eyes glowing in +a growing excitement, her red-gold hair shining like burnished copper +in the light from the lamp which was so near to it, “I hope God may +forgive you this terrible wicked spirit which is driving you. Some day +I may find it in my heart to forgive you. That which I have to do you +are driving me to, and I pray God I may succeed.”</p> + +<p>As the last word left her lips she seized the lamp from the table, +and, with all her strength, hurled it through the open window. As it +sped it extinguished itself and crashed to the ground outside, leaving +the room in utter darkness. At the same instant she sprang to the sill +of the open window, and flung herself from the room. As she, too, fell +to the ground a shot rang out behind her, and she felt the bullet tear +through her masses of coiled hair.</p> + +<p>But her excitement was at fever heat. She waited for nothing. Her +lover’s life was claiming every nerve in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span>her body. His life, and that +other’s. She scrambled to her feet and dodged clear of the window, +just as a chorus of harsh execration reached her ears. She looked +toward the barns and hay corrals whence the sound came, and, on the +instant, a hideous terror seized upon her. The barn was afire! The hay +had just been fired! And, in the inky blackness of the night, the +ruddy glow leapt suddenly and lit up the figures of a crowd of men, +now shouting and blaspheming at the result of the shot from the house.</p> + +<p>For one moment Joan stood still, trembling in every limb, heedless of +the vengeful creature behind her. She was overwhelmed by the now utter +and complete hopelessness of her case. Her horses were in the barn +which had been fired. And they were her only means of reaching her +lover.</p> + +<p>Then in a moment, as she beheld the shouting crowd coming toward the +house, voicing their intent to burn that, along with its occupants, +her mind went back to those still within. The wretched woman, whose +death by burning might save the Padre, and her rough but faithful +housekeeper. Regardless of all consequences to herself, now regardless +even of the lives of those two men she had hoped to save, she ran back +to the house.</p> + +<p>Flight alone could save the women inside from this drunken crowd. +Flight—and at once. For, resentful at the shot which had felled one +of their comrades, the lawless minds of these creatures saw but one +course to pursue. Well enough Joan knew their doctrine of a life for a +life. She must go back. She must save those two from this ravening +horde.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE TEMPEST BREAKS</h3> + +<p>Buck moved out of Cæsar’s stall. He had just finished lightly securing +the double cinchas of his saddle. The bulging saddle-bags had been +made fast behind the cantle and the wallets strapped upon the horn. +Now the great animal was hungrily devouring an added feed of oats +which his master had poured into its manger.</p> + +<p>The man glanced over the equipments, and moved to the other end of the +stable, where stood the Padre’s heavily built chestnut. It, too, was +ready saddled as though for a journey. Here again the saddle-bags and +wallets had been filled and adjusted. Here again the creature was +devouring an extra feed.</p> + +<p>Buck heaved a sigh of satisfaction and turned away to where the +lantern was hanging on a nail in the wooden wall. Close beside this a +belt, loaded down with revolver ammunition, and carrying two holsters +from which the butts of a pair of heavy revolvers protruded, was +suspended from another nail. This he took down and strapped about his +waist.</p> + +<p>His work for the night was done, and all his preparations made. The +night itself must direct the further course of action for him. As far +as he could see he had prepared for every possible development, but, +as he admitted to himself, he could only see from his own point of +view. He was at work against two opposing forces. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span>There was the law +and Bob Richards on the one hand, and, on the other, the Padre, with a +determination equal to his own. Of the two, he felt that the +redoubtable Bob, backed by the law, would be far the easier to deal +with.</p> + +<p>This night, he anticipated, was to be the last he spent in that old +fort. He more than anticipated it; he felt certain. He had heard early +in the day of the return of Joan’s Aunt Mercy, and this was an +all-sufficient reason for his belief. Since that moment he had +completed every preparation which before he had only tentatively +considered; and such matters had been attended to entirely independent +of his friend.</p> + +<p>This had to be. It was useless to inform him of anything, worse than +useless, until the last moment, when he intended that his schemes +should be executed to the last detail. After much painful thought he +had finally decided upon coercion to gain his ends. No mere bluff, but +a straightforward, honest declaration of his intentions. It was very +hurtful that he must do this thing. But he could not help it. He had +resolved on saving his friend from himself, and no considerations of +personal feelings or, in fact, anybody’s feelings, should be allowed +to stand in his way. He regarded his duty as a man, and not as a +law-abiding citizen. He had no real understanding of the law. His was +the only law that guided him, and his law demanded of him, rightly or +wrongly, the defense from all harm of those whom he loved.</p> + +<p>His manhood dictated this, and he had no thought of personal danger, +or toward what painful destiny it might carry him. The future belonged +to the future, life and death were things of no more account than +waking to daylight, or the profound slumbers of night. Those who +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span>would injure him or his friend must be dealt with in the only way he +understood. To outwit them was his first thought, but he must defeat +their ends if it cost him his life.</p> + +<p>This was the man who had learned from the book of Life, as it is +written in the earth’s rough places. He was not naturally desperate, +but, as with the creatures of the forests, which had taught him so +many lessons, when brought to bay in defense of their own, so he was +ready to bare his teeth—and use them.</p> + +<p>He reached for the lantern with the thought of extinguishing it. But +he changed his mind. There was no window that the light might become a +beacon. He would close the door and leave it burning.</p> + +<p>He turned to pass out, but remained where he was. The Padre was +standing in the doorway, and his steady eyes were upon the saddled +horses.</p> + +<p>Buck had no word of greeting to offer. His dark eyes were intently +fixed upon the other’s face. In a moment his friend turned to him.</p> + +<p>“It’s just on nine, Buck,” he said, in his kindest fashion. “We +haven’t eaten yet—it’s ready.”</p> + +<p>It was Buck’s turn to glance over at the horses so busily eating their +oats. A curious smile lit his eyes. He knew well enough that the other +had more than fathomed the meaning of those preparations. He was glad +he had made no attempt to conceal them. That sort of thing was never +his way. He had nothing to conceal from his friend.</p> + +<p>“I had a few chores to git fixed,” he said easily, indicating the +horses. “They’ll sure need a good feed before daylight, I guess.”</p> + +<p>The Padre pointed at his belt and revolvers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span></p><p>“And you’re sleeping in—them.”</p> + +<p>“Guess I’m not sleepin’—to-night.”</p> + +<p>“No—I suppose not.”</p> + +<p>The Padre looked into the strong young face with a speculative glance.</p> + +<p>Buck returned his look with a sudden eagerness.</p> + +<p>“You heard?” he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard—Mercy is back.”</p> + +<p>Buck watched him turn away to continue his survey of the horses.</p> + +<p>“So have you—I s’pose,” the older man went on a moment later, +indicating the horses.</p> + +<p>“Yep. Guess they’ll need to do a long journey soon. Mebbe—to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Cæsar?” said the Padre.</p> + +<p>“Both,” returned Buck, with an emphasis, the meaning of which could +not well be missed.</p> + +<p>The Padre’s eyes were smiling. He glanced round the tumbled-down old +barn. They had contrived to house their horses very comfortably, and +Buck kept them wonderfully cared for. These things appealed to him in +a way that made him regret many things.</p> + +<p>“Who’s riding—my plug?” the Padre asked deliberately.</p> + +<p>Buck shrugged.</p> + +<p>“Why ask?” he said doggedly. “Who generally does? I don’t seem to +guess we need beat around,” he went on impatiently. “That ain’t bin +our way, Padre. Guess those hosses are ready for us. They’ll be ready +night an’ day—till the time comes. Then—wal, we’re both goin’ to use +’em.”</p> + +<p>The younger man’s impatience had no disturbing effect <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span>upon the other. +But his smile deepened to a great look of affection.</p> + +<p>“Still chewin’ that bone?” he said. Then he shook his head. “What’s +the use? We’re just men, you and I; we got our own way of seeing +things. Twenty years ago maybe I’d have seen things your way. Twenty +years hence no doubt you’ll see things mine——”</p> + +<p>“Jest so,” Buck broke in, his eyes lighting, and a strong note +suddenly adding force to his interruption. “But I’m not waitin’ twenty +years so’s to see things diff’rent.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I should have said—twenty years ago.”</p> + +<p>Buck’s face suddenly flushed, and his dark brows drew together as he +listened to the calm words of his friend. In a moment his answer was +pouring from his lips in a hot tide which swept his hearer along and +made him rejoice at the bond which existed between them. Nor, in those +moments, could he help feeling glad for that day when he had found the +hungry wayfarer at the trail-side.</p> + +<p>“Ther’s more than twenty years between us, sure,” Buck cried with +intense feeling. “Nuthin’ can alter that, an’ ther’s sure nuthin’ can +make us see out o’ the same eyes, nor feel with the same feelin’s. +Ther’s nuthin’ can make things seem the same to us. I know that, an’ +it ain’t no use you tellin’ me. Guess we’re made diff’rent that +way—an’ I allow it’s as well. If we weren’t, wal, I guess neither of +us would have things right. See here, Padre, you give most everything +to me you could, ever since you brought me along to the farm. That’s +because it’s your way to give. I hadn’t nuthin’ to give. I haven’t +nuthin’ to give now. I can’t even give way. Guess you can, though, +because it’s your nature, and because I’m askin’ it. Padre, I’m goin’ +to act mean. I’m goin’ to act <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span>so mean it’ll hurt you. But it won’t +hurt you more than it’ll hurt me. Mebbe it won’t jest hurt you so +much. But I’m goin’ to act that way—because it’s my way—when I’m set +up agin it. You’re settin’ me up agin it now.”</p> + +<p>He paused, vainly watching the other’s steady eyes for a sign.</p> + +<p>“Go on.” The Padre’s smile was undiminished.</p> + +<p>Buck made an impatient movement, and pointed at the horses.</p> + +<p>“See them? Ther’ they stand,” he cried. “Ther’ they’ll sure stand till +we both set out for the long trail. I got it all fixed. I got more +than that fixed. See these guns?” He tapped one of the guns at his +waist. “They’re loaded plumb up. The belt’s full of shots. I got two +repeatin’ rifles stowed away, an’ their magazines are loaded plumb up, +too. Wal—unless you say right here you’re goin’ to hit the trail with +me, when—things get busy; unless you tell me right out you’re goin’ +to let me square off jest a bit of the score you got chalked up agin +me all these years by lettin’ me help you out in this racket, then I’m +goin’ to set right out ther’ by the old stockade, and when Bob +Richards gets around, he an’ as many of his dogone dep’ties as I can +pull down are goin’ to get their med’cine. They’ll need to take me +with you, Padre. Guess I’m sharin’ that ‘chair’ with you, if they +don’t hand it me before I get ther’. What I’m sayin’ goes, every word +of it. This thing goes, jest as sure as I’ll blow Bob Richards to hell +before he lays hand on you.”</p> + +<p>The younger man’s eyes shone with a passionate determination. There +was no mistaking it. His was a fanatical loyalty that was almost +staggering.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span></p><p>The Padre drew a sharp breath. He had not studied this youngster for +all those years without understanding something of the recklessness he +was capable of. Buck’s lips were tightly compressed, his thin nostrils +dilating with the intense feeling stirring him. His cheeks were pale, +and his dark eyes flashed their burning light in the dim glow of the +lantern. He stood with hands gripping, and the muscles of his bare +arms writhed beneath the skin with the force with which they clenched. +He was strung to an emotion such as the Padre had never before seen in +him, and it left the older man wavering.</p> + +<p>He glanced away.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t we worrying this thing on the crossways?” he said, endeavoring +to disguise his real feelings.</p> + +<p>But Buck would have none of it. He was in no mood for evasion. In no +mood for anything but the straightest of straight talk.</p> + +<p>“Ther’s no crosswise to me,” he cried bluntly, with a heat that might +almost have been taken for anger. Then, in a moment, his manner +changed. His tone softened, and the drawn brows smoothed. “Say, you +bin better’n a father to me. You sure have. Can I stand around an’ see +you passed over to a low-down sort o’ law that condemns innocent +folks? No, Padre, not—not even for Joan’s sake. I jest love that +little Joan, Padre. I love her so desprit bad I’d do most anything for +her sake. You reckon this thing needs doin’ for her.” He shook his +head. “It don’t. An’ if it did, an’ she jest wanted it done—which she +don’t—I’d butt in to stop it. Say, I love her that way I want to fix +her the happiest gal in this country—in the world. But if seein’ you +go to the law without raisin’ a hand to stop it was to make her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span>happy, guess her chances that way ’ud be so small you couldn’t never +find ’em. If my life figures in her happiness, an’ I’m savin’ that +life while you take your chance of penitentiary an’—the ‘chair,’ wal, +I guess she’ll go miserable fer jest as many years as she goes on +livin’.”</p> + +<p>The Padre turned away. It was impossible for him to longer face those +earnest young eyes pleading to be allowed to give their life for his +liberty. The reckless prodigality of the youngster’s heart filled him +with an emotion that would not be denied. He moved over to where Cæsar +stood, and smoothed the great creature’s silky quarters with a shaking +hand. Buck’s storming he could have withstood, but not—this.</p> + +<p>The other followed his every movement, as a beggar watches for the +glance of sympathy. And as the moments passed, and the Padre remained +silent, his voice, keyed sharply, further urged him.</p> + +<p>“Wal?”</p> + +<p>But the other was thinking, thinking rapidly of all those things which +his conscience, and long years of weary hiding prompted. He was trying +to adapt his focus anew. His duty had seemed so plain to him. Then, +too, his inclination had been at work. His intention had not seemed a +great sacrifice to him. He was weary of it all—these years of +avoiding his fellows. These years during which his mind had been +thrown back upon the thought of whither all his youthful, headlong +follies and—cowardice had driven him. Strong man as he was, something +of his strength had been undermined by the weary draining of those +years. He no longer had that desire to escape, which, in youth, had +urged him. He was almost anxious to face his accusers. And with that +thought he knew that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span>he was getting old. Yes, he was getting old—and +Buck—Buck was almost his son. He could not see the boy’s young life +thrown away for him, a life so full of promise, so full of quiet +happiness. He knew that that would happen if he persisted. He knew +that every word of Buck’s promise would be carried out to the letter. +That was his way. There was no alternative left now but for him to +give way. So he turned back and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>“What you say—goes,” he said huskily. “I—I hope what we’re doing is +right.”</p> + +<p>Buck caught the strong hand in his, and the other winced under his +grip.</p> + +<p>“Right?” he cried, his eyes shining with a great happiness. “Right? +You’ll save that old woman the worst crime on earth. You’re savin’ the +law from a crime which it’s no right to commit. You’re handin’ little +Joan a happiness you can’t even guess at in keepin’ your liberty—an’ +me, wal, you’re handin’ me back my life. Say, I ain’t goin’ to thank +you, Padre. I don’t guess I know how. That ain’t our way.” He laughed +happily. “Guess the score you got agin me is still mountin’ right up. +I don’t never seem to git it squared. Wal, we’ll let it go. Maybe it’s +almost a pity Bob Richards won’t never have the chance of thanking you +for—savin’ his life, too.”</p> + +<p>The delight in his manner, his shining joy were almost sufficient +recompense to the Padre. He had given way to this youngster as he +always gave way. It had been so from the first. Yes, it was always so, +and—he was glad.</p> + +<p>Buck turned toward the door, and, as he did so, his arm affectionately +linked into that of his friend.</p> + +<p>“We’ll need that supper, Padre,” he said, more soberly. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span>“There’s a +long night, and it ain’t easy to guess what may happen before +daylight. Come right along.”</p> + +<p>They passed the doorway, but proceeded no farther. Buck held up his +hand, and they stood listening.</p> + +<p>“Wait! Hark!” he cried, and both turned their eyes toward the westward +hills.</p> + +<p>As they stood, a low, faint growl of thunder murmured down the distant +hillsides, and died away in the long-drawn sigh of a rising wind. The +wind swept on, and the rustling trees and suddenly creaking branches +of the forest answered that sharp, keen breath.</p> + +<p>“It’s coming—from the northwest,” said the Padre, as though the +direction were significant.</p> + +<p>“Yes.” Buck nodded with understanding. “That’s wher’ the other come +from.”</p> + +<p>They stood for some moments waiting for a further sign. But nothing +came. The night was pitch black. There was no break anywhere in the +sky. The lamplight in the house stared out sharp and clear, but the +house itself, as with the barns and other outbuildings, the stockade, +even the line of the tree tops where they met the sky, was quite lost +in the inky night.</p> + +<p>“It’ll come quick,” said the Padre.</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>They moved on to the house, and in a few minutes were sitting down to +one of those silent meals which was so much a part of their habit. Yet +each man was alert. Each man was thinking of those things which they +knew to be threatening. Each man was ready for what might be +forthcoming. Be it tempest or disaster, be it battle or death, each +was ready to play his part, each was ready to accept the verdict as it +might be given.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span></p><p>Buck was the first to push back from the table. He rose from his seat +and lit his pipe. Then, as the pungent fumes lolled heavily on the +superheated air, he passed over to the open window and took his seat +upon the sill.</p> + +<p>The Padre was more leisurely. He remained in his seat and raked out +the bowl of his pipe with the care of a keen smoker. Then he cut his +tobacco carefully from his plug, and rolled it thoughtfully in the +palms of his hands.</p> + +<p>“Say, about little Joan,” he said abruptly. “Will she join us on——?”</p> + +<p>His question remained unfinished. At that instant Buck sprang from his +seat and leant out of the window. The Padre was at his side in an +instant.</p> + +<p>“What——?”</p> + +<p>“Holy Mackinaw! Look!” cried Buck, in an awed tone.</p> + +<p>He was pointing with one arm outstretched in a direction where the +ruined stockade had fallen, leaving a great gaping space. The opening +was sharply silhouetted against a wide glow of red and yellow light, +which, as they watched, seemed to grow brighter with each passing +moment.</p> + +<p>Each man was striving to grasp the full significance of what he +beheld. It was fire. It needed no second thought to convince them of +that. But where—what? It was away across the valley, beyond the +further lip which rose in a long, low slope. It was to the left of +Devil’s Hill, but very little. For that, too, was dimly silhouetted, +even at that distance.</p> + +<p>The Padre was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>“It’s big. But it’s not the camp,” he said. “Maybe it’s the—forest.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span></p><p>For a moment Buck made no answer. But a growing look of alarm was in +his straining eyes.</p> + +<p>“It’s not a prairie fire,” the Padre went on. “There’s not enough +grass that way. Say, d’you think——” A sudden fear had leapt into his +eyes, too, and his question remained unfinished.</p> + +<p>Buck stirred. He took a deep breach. The alarm in his eyes had +suddenly possessed his whole being. Something seemed to be clutching +his heart, so that he was almost stifled.</p> + +<p>“It’s none o’ them things,” he said, striving to keep his voice +steady. Then of a sudden he reached out, and clutched the arm of his +friend, so that his powerful fingers sank deep into its flesh.</p> + +<p>“It’s the—farm!” he cried, in a tone that rang with a terrible dread. +“Come on! The hosses!” And he dashed from the room before the last +sound of his voice had died out.</p> + +<p>The Padre was hard on his heels. With danger abroad he was no laggard. +Joan—poor little Joan! And there were miles to be covered before her +lover could reach her.</p> + +<p>But the dark shadows of disaster were crowding fast. Evil was abroad +searching every corner of the mountain world for its prey. Almost in a +moment the whole scene was changed, and the dull inertia of past days +was swept aside amidst a hurricane of storm and demoniacal tempest.</p> + +<p>A crash of appalling thunder greeted the ears of the speeding men. The +earth seemed to shake to its very foundations. Ear-splitting +detonations echoed from crag to crag, and down deep into the valleys +and canyons, setting the world alive with a sudden chaos. Peal after +peal roared over the hills, and the lightning played, hissing and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span>shrieking upon ironstone crowns, like a blinding display of +pyrotechnics.</p> + +<p>There was no pause in the sudden storm. There was no mercy for +wretched human nerves. The blinding light was one endless chain, +sweeping across the heavens as though bent on forever wresting from +its path the black shadows that defied it.</p> + +<p>And amidst all this turmoil, amidst all the devastating roar, which +shook the earth as though bent on wrecking the very mountains +themselves, amidst all the blinding, hellish light, so fierce, so +intense, that the last secrets of the remotest forest depths must be +yielded up, two horsemen dashed down the trail from the fur fort as +fast as sharp spurs could drive their eager beasts.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE EYES OF THE HILLS</h3> + +<p>The thunder roared without intermission. It rose and fell, that was +all. From a truculent piano it leapt to a titanic crescendo only to +find relief again in a fierce growling dissatisfaction. It seemed less +of an elemental war than a physical attack upon a shuddering earth. +The electric fires rifting the darkness of this out-world night were +beyond compare in their terror. The radiance of sunlight might well +have been less than the blaze of a rush candle before the staggering +brilliancy. It was wild, wild and fearsome. It was vicious and utterly +terrifying.</p> + +<p>Below the quaking earth was in little better case. Only was the scene +here in closer touch with human understanding. Here the terror was of +earth, here disaster was of human making. Here the rack of heart was +in destruction by wanton fire. Shrieking, hissing, crackling, only +insignificant by comparison with the war of the greater elements, +flames licked up and devoured with ravening appetites the tinder-like +structures of Joan’s farm.</p> + +<p>The girl was standing in the open. A confined enough open space almost +completely surrounded by fire. Before her were the blazing farm +buildings, behind her was the raging furnace that once had been her +home. And on one side of her the flames commingled so as to be +impassable. Her head was bowed and her eyes were closed, her hands +were pressed tight over her ears in a vain attempt <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span>to shut out +cognizance of the terror that reigned about and above her. She stood +thus despairing. She was afraid, terribly afraid.</p> + +<p>Beside her was her aunt, that strange creature whose brain had always +risen superior to the sufferings of the human body. Now she was +crushed to earth in mute submission to the powers which overwhelmed +her. She lay huddled upon the ground utterly lost to all +consciousness. Terror had mercifully saved her from a contemplation of +those things which had inspired it.</p> + +<p>These two were alone. The other woman had gone, fled at the first +coming of that dreaded fiend—fire. And those others, those wretched, +besotted creatures whose mischief had brought about this wanton +destruction, they too had fled. But their flight was in answer to the +wrathful voice of the heavens which they feared and dreaded above all +things in the wild world to which they belonged.</p> + +<p>Alone, helpless, almost nerveless, Joan waited that end which she felt +could not long be delayed. She did not know, she could not understand. +On every hand was a threat so terrible that in her weakness she +believed that life could not long last. The din in the heavens, the +torturing heat so fierce and painful. The glare of light which +penetrated even her closed eyelids, the choking gasps of smoke-laden, +scorching air with which she struggled. Death itself must come, nor +could it be far from her now.</p> + +<p>The wind rushed madly down from the hilltops. It swept over forest and +plain, it howled through canyon and crevasse in its eager haste to +reach the centre of the battle of elements. It pounced upon the +blinding smoke-cloud and swept it from its path and plunged to the +heart of the conflagration with a shriek and roar of cruel delight. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span>One breath, like the breath of a tornado, and its boisterous lungs +had sent its mischief broadcast in the flash of an eye. With a howl of +delight it tore out the blazing roof of the house, and, lifting it +bodily, hurled it like a molten meteor against the dark walls of the +adjacent pine forest.</p> + +<p>Joan saw nothing of this, she understood nothing. She was blind and +deaf to every added terror. All she felt, all she understood was +storm, storm, always storm. Her poor weary brain was reeling, her +heart was faint with terror. She was alive, she was conscious, but she +might well have been neither in the paralysis that held her. It meant +no more that that avalanche of fire, hurled amidst the resinous woods, +had suddenly brought into existence the greatest earthly terror that +could visit the mountain world; it meant no more to her that an added +roar of wind could create a greater peril; it meant no more to her +that, in a moment, the whole world about her would be in a blaze so +that the burning sacrifice should be complete. Nothing could possibly +mean more to her, for she was at the limit of human endurance.</p> + +<p>But other eyes, other brains were alive to all these things, eyes and +minds trained by a knowledge which only that mountain world could +teach. To them the significance was all absorbing. To them this new +terror was a thousandfold more appalling than all other storm and +tempest. With the forest afire there was safety for neither human nor +beast. With that forest afire flight was well-nigh impossible. With +that forest afire to save any living creature would be well-nigh a +miracle, and miracles had no place in their thoughts.</p> + +<p>Yet those eyes, so watchful, remained unchanged. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span>Those straining +brains only strained the harder. Those eager hearts knew no flinching +from their purpose, and if they quailed it was merely at the natural +dread for those whom they were seeking to succor.</p> + +<p>Even in face of the added peril their purpose remained. The heavens +might roar their thunders, the lightnings might blind their staring +eyes, the howling gale might strew their path with every obstruction, +nothing could change them, nothing could stop them but death itself.</p> + +<p>So with horses a-lather they swept along. Their blood-stained spurs +told their tale of invincible determination. These two men no longer +sat in their saddles, they were leaning far out of them over their +racing horses’ necks, urging them and easing them by every trick in a +horseman’s understanding. They were making a trail which soon they +knew would be a path of fire. They knew that with every stride of the +stalwart creatures under them they were possibly cutting off the last +hope of a retreat to safety. They knew, none better, that once amidst +that furnace which lay directly ahead it was something worse than an +even chance of life.</p> + +<p>Buck wiped the dripping sweat out of his eyes that he might get a +clearer view. The blaze of lightning was of no use to him. It only +helped to make obscure that which the earthly fires were struggling to +reveal. The Padre’s horse was abreast of his saddle. The sturdy brute +was leaving Cæsar to make the pace while she doggedly pursued.</p> + +<p>“We’ll make it yet!” shouted Buck, over his shoulder, amidst the roar +of thunder.</p> + +<p>The Padre made no attempt at response. He deemed it useless.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span></p><p>Buck slashed Cæsar’s flanks with ruthless force.</p> + +<p>The blazing farm was just ahead, as was also the roaring fire of the +forest. It was the latter on which both men were concentrating their +attention. For the moment its path lay eastward, away to the right of +the trail. But this they knew was merely the howling force of the +wind. With a shift of direction by half a point and the gale would +drive it straight down the trail they were on.</p> + +<p>The trail bent away to the left. And as they swung past the turn Buck +again shouted.</p> + +<p>“Now for it!”</p> + +<p>He dashed his spurs again at the flanks of his horse, and the great +beast stretched out for a final burst across the bridge over the +narrow creek.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>FROM OUT OF THE ABYSS</h3> + +<p>Joan swayed where she stood. She stumbled and fell; and the fall went +on, and on, and on. It seemed to her that she was rushing down through +endless space toward terrors beyond all believing. It seemed to her +that a terrific wind was beating on her, and driving her downward +toward a fiercely storm-swept ocean, whose black, hideous waves were +ever reaching up to engulf her.</p> + +<p>She cried out. She knew she cried out, and she knew she cried out in +vain. Some one, it seemed to her, was far, far up above her, watching, +seeking to aid her, but powerless to respond to her heart-broken +cries. Still she called, and she knew she must go on calling, till the +dark seas below drowned the voice in her throat.</p> + +<p>Now shadows arose about her, mocking, cruel shadows. They were +definite figures, but she could not give them definite form in her +mind. She reached out toward them, clutching vainly at fluttering +shapes, but ever missing them in her headlong career. She sped on, +buffeted and hurtling, and torn; on, on, making that hideous journey +through space.</p> + +<p>Her despairing thoughts flashed at lightning speed through her +whirling brain. Faster they came, faster and faster, till she had no +time to recognize, no power to hold them. She could see them, yes, she +could literally see <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span>them sweep by, vanishing like shadows in that +black space of terror.</p> + +<p>Then came a sudden accession of sharp stabbing pain. It seemed to tick +through her body as might a clock, and each stab came as with the sway +of the pendulum, and with a regularity that was exquisite torture. The +stabs of pain came quicker, the pendulum was working faster. Faster +and faster it swung, and so the torture was ever increasing. Now the +pain was in her head, her eyes, her ears, her brain. The agony was +excruciating. Her head was bursting. She cried louder and louder, and, +with every cry, the pain increased until she felt she was going mad. +Then suddenly the pendulum stopped swinging and her cries and her +agony ceased, and all was still, silent and dark.</p> + +<p>It might have been a moment, or it might have been ages. Suddenly this +wonderful peace was disturbed. It was as though she had just awakened +from a deep refreshing sleep in some strange, unfamiliar world. The +darkness remained, but it was the darkness of peace. The beating wind +had gone, and she only heard it sighing afar off. She was calling +again, but no longer in despair. She was calling to that some one far +above her with the certain knowledge that she would be answered. The +darkness was passing, too. Yes, and she was no longer falling, but +soaring up, up, winging her way above, without effort, without pain.</p> + +<p>The savage waves were receding, their voices had died to a low murmur, +like the voice of a still, summer sea on a low foreshore. Now, too, +between every cry she waited for that answer which she knew must be +forthcoming. It was some man’s voice she was awaiting, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span>some man, +whose name ever eluded her searching brain. She strained to hear till +the pulses of her ear-drums throbbed, for she knew when she heard the +voice she would recognize the speaker.</p> + +<p>Hark, there it was, far, far away. Yes, she could hear it, but how far +she must have fallen. There it was again. It was louder, and—nearer. +Again and again it came. It was quite plain. It was a voice that set +her brain and heart afire with longing. It was a voice she loved more +than all the world. Hark! What was that it said? Yes, there it was +again.</p> + +<p>“Pore little gal, pore little Joan.”</p> + +<p>Now she knew, and a flood of thankfulness welled up in her heart. A +great love thrilled through her veins, and tears flooded her eyes, +tears of thankfulness and joy. Tears for herself, for him, for all the +world. It was Buck’s voice full of pity and a tender love.</p> + +<p>In a moment she was awake. She knew she was awake to a sort of dazed +consciousness, because instantly her brain was flooded with all the +horror of memory. Memory of the storm, the fire, of the devastation of +her home.</p> + +<p>For long minutes she had no understanding of anything else. She was +consumed by the tortures of that memory. Yes, it was still storming, +she could hear the howling of the wind, the roar of thunder, and the +hiss and crackling of fire. Where was she? Ah, she knew. She was +outside, with the fire before and behind her. And her aunt was at her +side. She reached out a hand to reassure herself, and touched +something soft and warm. But what was that? Surely it was Buck’s voice +again?</p> + +<p>“Thank God, little gal, I tho’t you was sure dead.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span></p><p>In desperate haste she struggled to rise to her feet, but everything +seemed to rock and sway under her. And then, as Buck spoke again, she +abandoned her efforts.</p> + +<p>“Quiet, little gal, lie you still, or I can’t hold you. You’re dead +safe fer the moment. I’ve got you. We’re tryin’ to git out o’ this +hell, Cæsar an’ me. An’ Cæsar’s sure doin’ his best. Don’t you worrit. +The Padre’s behind, an’ he’s got your auntie safe.”</p> + +<p>Joan’s mind had suddenly become quite clear. There was no longer any +doubt in it. Now she understood where she was. Buck had come to save +her. She was in his arms, on Cæsar’s back—and she knew she would be +saved.</p> + +<p>With an effort she opened her eyes and found herself looking into the +dark face of the man she loved, and a great sigh of contentment +escaped her. She closed them again, but it was only to open them +almost immediately. Again she remembered, and looked about her.</p> + +<p>Everywhere was the lurid glow of fire, and she became aware of intense +heat. Above her head was the roar of tempest, and the vivid, hellish +light of the storm. Buck had called it “hell.”</p> + +<p>“The whole world seems to be afire,” she said suddenly.</p> + +<p>Buck looked down into her pale face.</p> + +<p>“Well nigh,” he said. Then he added, “Yes, it’s afire, sure. It’s +afire that bad the Almighty alone guesses if we’ll git out.”</p> + +<p>But his doubt inspired no apprehension. Somehow Joan’s confidence was +the effect of his strong supporting arm.</p> + +<p>She stirred again in his arms. But it was very gently.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span></p><p>“Buck,” she said, “let me sit up. It will ease you—and help poor +Cæsar. I’m—I’m not afraid now.”</p> + +<p>Buck gave a deep-throated laugh. He felt he wanted to laugh, now he +was sure that Joan was alive.</p> + +<p>“You don’t need. Say, you don’t weigh nuthin’. An’ Cæsar, why, Cæsar’s +mighty proud I’m lettin’ him carry you.”</p> + +<p>But the girl had her way, and, in a moment, was sitting up with one +arm about the man’s broad shoulders. It brought her face near to his, +and Buck bent his head toward her, and kissed the wonderful ripe lips +so temptingly adjacent.</p> + +<p>For a moment Joan abandoned herself to the joy of that kiss. Then the +rhythmic sway of Cæsar’s body under her reminded her that there were +other things. She wanted to ask Buck how they had known and come to +her help. She wanted to ask a dozen woman’s questions. But she +refrained. Buck had spoken of “hell,” and she gazed about her seeking +the reason of his doubt.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes she was aware of it all. In a few minutes she +realized that he had well named the country through which they were +riding. In a few minutes she knew that it was a race for life, and +that their hope was in the great heart of Cæsar.</p> + +<p>Far as the eye could see in that ruddy light, tortured and distorted +by the flashes of storm above, was an ocean of fire spread out. The +crowning billows of smoke, like titanic foam-crests, rolled away +upward and onward before them. They, too, were ruddy-tinted by the +reflection from below. They crowded in every direction. They swept +along abreast of them, they rose up behind them, and the distance was +lost in their choking midst. The <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span>scorching air was laden to +suffocation by the odors of burning resin. She knew they were on a +trail, a narrow, confined trail, which was lined by unburnt woods. And +the marvel of it filled her.</p> + +<p>“These woods are untouched,” she said.</p> + +<p>Again Buck laughed. It was a grim laugh which had no mirth, but yet +was it dashed by a wonderful recklessness.</p> + +<p>“So far,” he said. Then he added, with a quick look up at the belching +smoke, “If they weren’t I don’t guess we’d be here now. Say, it’s +God’s mercy sure this trail heads from the farm southeast. Further on +it swings away at a fork. One trail goes due east, an’ the other +sou’west. One of ’em’s sure cut by the fire. An’ the other—wal, it’s +a gamble with luck.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the only way out?” The girl’s eyes were wide with her question +and the knowledge of the meaning of a reply in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>“That’s so.”</p> + +<p>“We’re like—rats in a trap.”</p> + +<p>A sharp oath escaped the man’s lips.</p> + +<p>“We ain’t beat yet,” he cried fiercely.</p> + +<p>The reply was the heart of the man speaking. Joan understood it. And +from it she understood more. She understood the actual peril in the +midst of which they were.</p> + +<p>There was nothing more to be said. Buck’s whole attention was upon the +billows of smoke and the lurid reflections thereon. The thunders above +them, the blinding lightnings, left him undisturbed. The wind, the +smoke and the fire were his only concern now. Already, ahead, he could +see in the vague light where the trail gave to the left. Beyond that +was the fork.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span></p><p>Joan gave no thought to these things. She had no right understanding +of how best they could be served. She was studying the face of the +man, the dark, brave face that was now her whole world. She was aware +of the horseman behind, with his burden, she was aware of the horrors +surrounding them, but the face of the man held her, held her without a +qualm of fear—now. If death lay before them she was in his arms.</p> + +<p>Buck’s thoughts were far enough from death. He had snatched the woman +he loved from its very jaws, and he had no idea of yielding. There was +no comfort for him in the thought of their dying together. Living, +yes. Life was more sweet to him just then than ever it had been +before. And he meant that they two should live on, and on.</p> + +<p>They passed the bend and the forking trail loomed up amidst the +shadows. The crisis had come. And as they reached the vital spot Buck +took hold of the horse and reined him up. In a moment the Padre was at +his side with his inanimate burden.</p> + +<p>Joan stared at the still form of her relative while the men talked.</p> + +<p>“It’s got us beat to the eastward,” said Buck, without a moment’s +hesitation.</p> + +<p>“Yes. The fire’s right across the trail. It’s impassable.”</p> + +<p>The Padre’s eyes were troubled. The eastward trail led to the open +plains.</p> + +<p>“We must make the other,” Buck said sharply, gathering up his reins.</p> + +<p>“Yes. That means——”</p> + +<p>“Devil’s Hill, if the fire ain’t ahead of us.”</p> + +<p>“And if it is?” Curiously enough the Padre, even, seemed to seek +guidance from Buck.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span></p><p>“It sure will be if we waste time—talkin’.”</p> + +<p>Cæsar leapt at his bit in response to the sharp stroke of the spur.</p> + +<p>Now Buck had no thought for anything but the swift traveling fire on +his left. It was the pace of his horse against the pace at which the +gale was driving this furnace. It was the great heart of his horse +against endurance. Would it stand the test with its double burden? If +they could reach that bald, black hill, there was safety and rest. If +not—but they must reach it. They must reach it if it was the last +service he ever claimed from his faithful servant. For once in his +life the mystery of the hill afforded Buck hope and comfort. For once +it was a goal to be yearned for, and he could think of no greater +delight than to rest upon its black summit far from the reach of the +hungry flames, that now, like an invading army, were seeking by every +means to envelop him.</p> + +<p>Could they make it?</p> + +<p>A hundred thoughts and sensations were passing through the man’s body +and mind. He was sub-consciously estimating Cæsar’s power by the gait +at which he was traveling. He was guessing at the rate of the racing +fire. He was calculating the direction of the wind to an absurd +fraction. He was observing without interest the racing of a strangely +assorted commingling of forest creatures down the trail, seeking +safety in flight from the speeding fire. He cared nothing for them. He +had no feelings of pity for anything or any one but Joan. Every hope +in his heart, every atom of power in his body, every thought was for +her well-being and ultimate safety. Oh, for the rain; oh, for such a +rain as he had seen that time before.</p> + +<p>But the storming heavens were dry-eyed and merciless. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span>That freakish +phenomenon of a raging thunder-storm without the usual deluge of rain +was abroad with all its deadly danger. It was extraordinary. It was so +extraordinary that Buck was utterly at a loss. Why, why? And his +impatient questioning remained without answer. There had been every +indication of rain and yet none had come——What was that?</p> + +<p>Cæsar suddenly seemed to sway drunkenly. He shook his head in the +manner of a horse irritated, and alarm set his ears flat back in his +head, and he stretched his neck, and, of his own accord, increased his +pace. Buck saw nothing to cause this sudden disturbance other than +that which had been with them all the time, and yet his horse’s alarm +was very evident.</p> + +<p>A moment later occurred something still more unusual. Cæsar stumbled. +He did not fall. It was a mere false step, and, as he recovered, Buck +felt the poor beast trembling under him. Was it the end of his +endurance? No. The horse was traveling even faster than before, and he +found it necessary to check the faithful creature, an attention that +quickly aroused its opposition.</p> + +<p>Buck’s puzzled eyes lifted from his horse to the rapidly nearing fire. +It must be that Cæsar must have realized its proximity, and, in his +effort to outstrip it, had brought about his own floundering. So he no +longer checked the willing creature, and the race went on at the very +limit of the horse’s pace. Then, in a moment, again came that absurd +reeling and uncertainty. And Buck’s added puzzlement found expression +in words, while his eyes watched closely for some definite cause.</p> + +<p>“Ther’s suthin’ amiss with Cæsar,” he said, with an unconcern of +manner which his words belied.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span></p><p>“What do you mean?” Joan’s eyes lifted to his in sudden alarm. Then +she added, “I seemed to notice something.”</p> + +<p>“Seems like he’s—drunk.” Buck laughed.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps—the earth’s shaking. I shouldn’t wonder, with this—this +storm.”</p> + +<p>“Shaking?”</p> + +<p>Buck echoed her word, but his mind had suddenly seized upon it with a +different thought from hers. If the earth were shaking, it would not +be with the storm above. His eyes peered ahead. Devil’s Hill lay less +than a mile away, and that was where he reckoned the fire would strike +the trail. Devil’s Hill. A sudden uncomfortable repulsion at the +thought of its barren dome took hold of him. For some subtle reason it +no longer became the haven to be yearned for that it had been. Rather +was it a resting-place to be sought only in extremity—if the earth +were shaking.</p> + +<p>His attention now became divided between the fire and Cæsar. The horse +was evidently laboring. He was moving without his accustomed freedom +of gait, and yet he did not seem to be tiring.</p> + +<p>Half the distance to the foot of the hill had been covered. The fire +was nearing rapidly, so near indeed was it that the air was alive with +a perfect hail of glowing sparks, swept ahead of it by the terrific +wind. The scorching air was becoming unendurable, and the mental +strain made the trail seem endless, and their efforts almost hopeless. +Buck looked down at the girl’s patient face.</p> + +<p>“It’s hot—hot as hell,” he said with another meaningless laugh.</p> + +<p>The girl read through his words and the laugh—read <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span>through them to +the thought behind them, and promptly protested.</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry for me. I can stand—anything now.”</p> + +<p>The added squeeze of her arm upon his shoulders set Buck’s teeth +gritting.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he reined Cæsar in.</p> + +<p>“I must know ’bout that—shakin’,” he said.</p> + +<p>For a second the horse stood with heaving body. It was only a moment, +but in that moment he spread out his feet as though to save himself +from falling. Then in answer to the spur he sped on.</p> + +<p>“It’s the earth, sure,” cried Buck. And had there been another escape +he would have turned from the barren hill now rising amidst the +banking smoke-clouds ahead of him.</p> + +<p>“Earthquake!” said the girl.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Nothing more was said. The air scorched their flesh, and Joan was +fearful lest the falling sparks should fire her clothing. With every +passing moment Cæsar was nearing their forbidding goal. The fire was +so adjacent that the roar and crackle of it shrieked in their ears, +and through the trees shone the hideous gleam of flame. It was neck +and neck, and their hope lay beneath them. Buck raked the creature’s +flanks again with his spurs, and the gallant beast responded. On, on +they sped at a gait that Buck knew well could not last for long. But +with every stride the hill was coming nearer, and it almost seemed as +if Cæsar understood their necessity, and his own. Once Joan looked +back. That sturdy horse of the Padre was doggedly pursuing. Step for +step he hugged his stable companion’s trail, but he was far, far +behind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span></p><p>“The Padre,” cried Joan. “They are a long way back.”</p> + +<p>“God help him!” cried Buck, through clenched teeth. “I can’t. To wait +fer him sure means riskin’ you.”</p> + +<p>“But——” Joan broke off and turned her face up to the canopy of smoke +driving across them. “Rain!” she cried, with a wild thrill of hope. +“Rain—and in a deluge.”</p> + +<p>In a moment the very heavens seemed to be emptying their reservoirs. +It came, not in drops, but in streams that smote the earth, the fire, +themselves with an almost crushing force. In less than half a minute +they were drenched to the skin, and the water was pouring in streams +from their extremities.</p> + +<p>“We’ve won out,” cried Buck, with a great laugh.</p> + +<p>“Thank God,” cried Joan, as she turned her scorched face up to receive +the grateful water.</p> + +<p>Buck eased the laboring Cæsar.</p> + +<p>“That fire won’t travel now, an’—ther’s the hill,” the man nodded.</p> + +<p>They had steadied to a rapid gallop. The hill, as Buck indicated, was +just ahead. Joan’s anxious eyes looked for the beginning of the slope. +Yes, it was there. Less than two hundred yards ahead.</p> + +<p>The air filled with steam as the angry fire strove to battle with its +arch-enemy. But the rain was as merciless in its onslaught as had been +the storm, and the fire itself. The latter had been given full scope +to work its mischief, and now it was being called to its account. +Heavier and heavier the deluge fell, and the miracle of its +irresistible power was in the rapid fading of the ruddy glow in the +smoke-laden atmosphere. The fire was beaten from the outset and its +retreat before the opposing element was like a panic flight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span></p><p>In five minutes Cæsar was clawing his way up over the boulder-strewn +slopes of the hill, and Joan knew that, for the time at least, they +were safe. She knew, too, if the rain held for a couple of hours, the +blazing woods would be left a cold waste of charred wreckage.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>But the rain did not hold. It lasted something less than a quarter of +an hour. It was like a merciful act of Providence that came at the one +moment when it could serve the fugitives. The chances had been all +against them. Buck had known it. The fire must have met them at the +foot of the hill and so barred their ultimate escape. The Padre behind +had been inevitably doomed.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>THE CATACLYSM</h3> + +<p>Two hours later two men and a girl gazed out from the plateau of +Devil’s Hill. The whole earth it seemed was a raging sea of fire. Once +more the forests were ablaze in every direction. The blistering +tongues of fire had licked up the heavy rain, and were again roaring +destruction over the land.</p> + +<p>Far as the eye could reach the lurid pall of smoke was spread out, +rolling upward and onward, borne upon the bosom of the gale. In its +midst, and through it, the merciless flames leapt up and up. The +booming of falling timbers, and the roar of the flames smote painfully +upon the hearts of the watchers. It was a spectacle to crush every +earthly hope. It was a sight so painful as to drive the mind of man +distracted. In all their lives these people had never imagined such a +terror. In all their lives they could never witness such again.</p> + +<p>They stood there silent and awed. They stood there with eyes straining +and ear-drums throbbing with the din of the battle. Their horses were +roaming at will and the still form of Aunt Mercy was at their feet. +There was no shelter. There was no hope. Only they knew that where +they stood was safety, at least, from the fire below.</p> + +<p>Presently Joan knelt at her aunt’s side and studied her ashen features +in the ruddy light. The woman’s unconsciousness had remained through +all that journey. Or was she dead? Joan could not make up her mind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span></p><p>Once, as she knelt, she reeled and nearly fell across that still body. +And when, recovering herself, she looked up at the men she saw that +they were braced, with feet apart, supporting each other. Then, in the +roar of the storm she heard Buck’s voice shouting in the Padre’s ear.</p> + +<p>“Guess—ther’s more to come yet,” he said with a profound +significance.</p> + +<p>She saw the Padre’s nod, and she wondered at the fresh danger he saw +ahead.</p> + +<p>Buck turned and looked out over the desolate plateau with troubled +eyes. She followed his gaze. Strangely she had little fear, even with +that trouble in her lover’s eyes.</p> + +<p>The plateau was desperately gloomy. It was hot, too, up there, +terribly hot. But Joan had no thought for that except that she +associated it with the hot wind blowing up from below. Her observation +was narrowed to a complete dependence on Buck. He was her hope, her +only hope.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she saw him reel. Then, in a moment, she saw that both men +were down on hands and knees, and, almost at the instant, she, +herself, was hurled flat upon the ground beside the body of her aunt.</p> + +<p>The earth was rocking, and now she understood more fully her lover’s +trouble. Her courage slowly began to ebb. She fought against it, but +slowly a terror of that dreadful hill crept up in her heart, and she +longed to flee anywhere from it—anywhere but down into that caldron +of fire below. But the thought was impossible. Death was on every hand +beyond that hill, and the hill itself was—quaking.</p> + +<p>Now Buck was speaking again.</p> + +<p>“We’ll have to git som’ere from here,” he said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span></p><p>The Padre answered him—</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p>It was an admission of the elder man’s weakness. Buck must guide. The +girl’s eyes remained upon her lover’s face; she was awaiting his +reply. She understood, had always known it, that all human help for +her must come from him.</p> + +<p>Her suspense was almost breathless.</p> + +<p>“There’s shelter by the lake,” Buck said, after a long pause. “We can +get to leeward of the rock, an’—it’s near the head of that path +droppin’ to the creek. The creek seems better than anywher’ +else—after this.”</p> + +<p>His manner was decided, but his words offered poor enough comfort.</p> + +<p>The Padre agreed, and, at once, they moved across to Joan. For the +moment the earth was still again. Its convulsive shudder had passed. +Joan struggled to her feet, but her increasing terror left her +clinging to the man she loved. The Padre silently gathered Mercy into +his arms, and the journey across the plateau began.</p> + +<p>But as they moved away the subterranean forces attacked again. Again +came that awful rocking, and shaking, which left them struggling for a +foothold. Twice they were driven to their knees, only to stagger on as +the convulsions lessened. It was a nightmare of nervous tension. Every +step of the journey was fraught with danger, and every moment it +seemed as though the hill must fall beneath them to a crumbling +wreckage.</p> + +<p>With heart-sick apprehension Joan watched the growing form of the +great rock, which formed the source of the lake, as it loomed out of +the smoke-laden dusk. It was so high, so sheer. What if it fell, +wrecked with those <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span>dreadful earth quakings? But her terror found no +voice, no protest. She would not add to the burden of these men. The +rock passed behind them, and her relief was intense as the shadow was +swallowed up again in the gloom. Then a further relief came to her as +the edge of the plateau was reached, and the Padre set his burden down +at the head of the narrow path which suggested a possible escape to +the creek below.</p> + +<p>She threw herself beside her aunt, and heard Buck speaking again to +his friend.</p> + +<p>“Stop right here with the women,” he said. “I’m goin’ around that +lake—seems to me we need to get a peek at it.”</p> + +<p>Joan understood something of what he feared. She remembered the +weirdness of that suspended lake, and thought with a shudder of the +dreadful earth quakings. So she watched him go with heart well-nigh +breaking.</p> + +<p>Buck moved cautiously away into the gloom. He knew the lake shore +well. The evident volcanic origin of it might well answer many +questions and doubts in his mind. Its rugged shore offered almost +painful difficulties with the, now, incessant quakings below. But he +struggled on till he came to the eminence he sought. Here he took up a +position, lying on his stomach so that he had a wide view of the +surface of the wind-swept water.</p> + +<p>He remained for a long while watching, watching, and striving to +digest the signs he beheld. They were many, and alarming. But their +full meaning was difficult to his untutored mind.</p> + +<p>Here it was that the Padre ultimately found him. He had been gone so +long that the elder man’s uneasiness for his safety had sent him in +search.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span></p><p>“What d’you make of it, Buck?” he demanded, as he came up, his +apprehensions finding no place in his manner.</p> + +<p>Buck displayed no surprise. He did not even turn his head.</p> + +<p>“The fires are hotting. The water’s nigh boiling. There’s goin’ to be +a mighty bust-up.”</p> + +<p>The Padre looked out across the water.</p> + +<p>“There’s fire around us, fire above us, and now—fire under us. We’ve +got to choose which we’re going to face, Buck—quick.”</p> + +<p>The Padre’s voice was steady. His feelings were under perfect control.</p> + +<p>Buck laughed grimly.</p> + +<p>“Ther’s fire we know, an’ fire we don’t. Guess we best take the fire +we know.”</p> + +<p>They continued to gaze out across the lake in silence after that. Then +the Padre spoke again.</p> + +<p>“What about the horses?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The question seemed to trouble Buck, for he suddenly caught his +breath. But, in a moment, his answer came with decision.</p> + +<p>“Guess they must take their chances,” he said. “Same as we have to. I +hate to leave him, but Cæsar’s got sense.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>The Padre’s eyes were fixed upon one spot on the surface of the water. +It was quite plain, even in that light, that a seething turmoil was +going on just beneath it. He pointed at the place, but went on talking +of the other things in his mind.</p> + +<p>“Say, you best take this pocketbook. We may get separated before the +night’s out. It’s half the farm money. You see—ther’s no telling,” he +ended up vaguely.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span></p><p>For one instant Buck removed his eyes from the surface of the lake to +glance at the snow-white head of his friend. Then he reached out and +took the pocketbook.</p> + +<p>“Maybe Joan’ll need it, anyway,” he said, and thrust it in his pocket. +“We must——Say, git busy! Look!”</p> + +<p>Buck’s quick eyes had suddenly caught sight of a fresh disturbance in +the water. Of a sudden the whole surface of the lake seemed to be +rising in a great commotion. And as he finished speaking two terrific +detonations roared up from somewhere directly beneath them.</p> + +<p>In an instant both men were on their feet and racing in headlong +flight for the point where they had left the women.</p> + +<p>“Get Joan!” shouted the Padre from behind. He was less swift of foot +than Buck. “Get Joan! I’ll see to the other.”</p> + +<p>Buck reached the girl’s side. She had heard the explosions of the +underworld and stood shaking with terror.</p> + +<p>“We’re up agin it, Joan,” he cried. And before the panic-stricken girl +could reply she was in his strong young arms speeding for the downward +path, which was their only hope.</p> + +<p>“But the Padre! Aunt Mercy!” cried Joan, in a sudden recollection.</p> + +<p>“They’re comin’ behind. He’ll see to her——God in heaven!”</p> + +<p>A deafening roar, a hundred times greater than the first explosions, +came from directly beneath the man’s feet. The air was full of it. To +the fugitives it was as if the whole world had suddenly been riven +asunder. For one flashing moment it seemed to Buck that he had been +struck with fearful force from somewhere behind him, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span>as the blow +fell he was hurled headlong down the precipitous path.</p> + +<p>A confused, painful sense of cruel buffeting left him only +half-conscious. There was a roar in his ears like the bombardment of +unearthly artillery. It filled his brain to the exclusion of all else, +while he hugged the girl close in his arms with some instinct of +saving her, and shielding her from the cruel blows with his own body.</p> + +<p>Beyond that he had practically no sensation. Beyond that he had no +realization whatever. They were falling, falling, and every limb in +his body seemed to find the obstructions with deadly certainty. How +far, how long they were falling, whither the awful journey was +carrying them, these things passed from him utterly.</p> + +<p>Then, abruptly, all sensation ceased. The limit of endurance had been +reached. For him, at least, the battle for life seemed ended. The +greater forces might contest in bitter rage. Element might war with +element, till the whole face of the world was changed; for Providence, +in a belated mercy, had suspended animation, and spared these two poor +atoms of humanity a further witness of a conflict of forces beyond +their finite understanding.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + +<h3>ALONE—</h3> + +<p>“Buck! Buck!”</p> + +<p>Faint and small, the cry was lost in the wilderness of silence. It +died out, a heart-broken moan of despair, fading to nothingness in the +still, desolate world.</p> + +<p>Then came another sound. It was the crash of a falling tree. It was +louder, but it, too, could scarcely break the stillness, so silent was +the world, so desolate was it in the absence of all life.</p> + +<p>Day had broken. The sky was brilliant with swift-speeding clouds of +fleecy white. The great sun had lifted well above the horizon, and +already its warming rays were thirstily drinking from a sodden, +rain-drenched earth.</p> + +<p>The perfect calm of a summer morning reigned. Up above, high up, where +it was quite lost to the desolation below, a great wind was still +speeding on the fleecy storm-clouds, brushing them from its path and +replacing them with the frothing scud of a glorious day. But the air +had not yet regained its wonted freshness. The reek of charred timber +was everywhere. It poisoned the air, and held memory whence it would +willingly escape.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Buck, speak to me! Open your eyes! Oh, my love, my dear, dear +love!”</p> + +<p>The cry had grown in pitch. It was the cry of a woman whose whole soul +is yearning for the love which had been ruthlessly torn from her +bosom.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span></p><p>Again it died away in a sob of anguish, and all was still again. Not a +sound broke the appalling quiet. Not a leaf rustled, for the world +seemed shorn of all foliage. Not a sound came from the insect world, +for even the smallest, the most minute of such life seemed to have +fled, or been destroyed. There was neither the flutter of a wing, nor +the voice of the prowling carnivora, for even the winged denizens of +the mountains and the haunting scavengers had fled in terror from such +a wilderness of desolation.</p> + +<p>“Buck, oh, my Buck! Speak, speak! He’s dead! Oh, my God, he’s dead!”</p> + +<p>Louder the voice came, and now in its wail was a note of hysteria. +Fear had made harsh the velvet woman’s tones. Fear, and a rising +resentment against the cruel sentence that had been passed upon her.</p> + +<p>She crouched down, rocking herself amidst a low scrub upon which the +dead leaves still hung where the fires had scorched them. But the fire +had not actually passed over them. A wide spread of barren rock +intervened between the now skeleton woods and where the girl sat +huddled.</p> + +<p>In front of her lay the figure of a man, disheveled and bleeding, and +scarcely recognizable for the staunch youth who had yielded himself to +the buffets of life that the woman he loved might be spared.</p> + +<p>But Joan only saw the radiant young face she loved, the slim, graceful +figure so full of life and strength. He was hers. And—and death had +snatched him from her. Death had claimed him, when all that she could +ever long for seemed to be within her grasp. Death, ruthless, fierce, +hateful death had crushed out that life in its cruellest, most +merciless fashion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span></p><p>She saw nothing of the ruin which lay about her. She had no thought of +anything else, she had no thought of those others. All she knew was +that her Buck, her brave Buck, lay before her—dead.</p> + +<p>The girl suddenly turned her despairing eyes to the white heavens, +their deep blue depths turned to a wonderful violet of emotion. Her +wealth of golden hair hung loose about her shoulders, trailing about +her on the sodden earth, where it had fallen in the midst of the +disaster that had come upon her. Her rounded young figure was bent +like the figure of an aged woman, and the drawn lines of anguish on +her beautiful face gave her an age she did not possess.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he is not dead!” she cried, in a vain appeal. “Tell me he is not +dead!” she cried, to the limitless space beyond the clouds. “He is all +I have, all I have in the world. Oh, God, have mercy upon me! Have +mercy!”</p> + +<p>Her only reply was the stillness. The stillness as of death. She +raised her hands to her face. There were no tears. She was beyond that +poor comfort. Dry, hard sobs racked her body, and drove the rising +fever to her poor brain.</p> + +<p>For long moments she remained thus.</p> + +<p>Then, after a while, her sobs ceased and she became quite still. She +dropped her hands inertly from her face, and let them lie in her lap, +nerveless, helpless, while she gazed upon the well-loved features, so +pale under the grime and tanning of the skin.</p> + +<p>She sat quite still for many minutes. It almost seemed as if the power +of reason had at last left her, so colorless was her look, so +unchanging was her vacant expression. But at last she stirred. And +with her movement a strange <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span>light grew in her eyes. It was a look +bordering upon the insane, yet it was full of resolve, a desperate +resolve. Her lips were tightly compressed, and she breathed hard.</p> + +<p>She made no sound. There were no further lamentations. Slowly she +reached out one hand toward the beloved body. Nor was the movement a +caress. It passed across the tattered garments, through which the +painfully contused flesh peered hideously out at her. It moved with +definite purpose toward one of the gaping holsters upon the man’s +waist-belt. Her hand came to a pause over the protruding butt of a +revolver. Just for a moment there was hesitation. Then it dropped upon +it and her fingers clasped the weapon firmly. She withdrew it, and in +a moment it rested in her lap.</p> + +<p>She gazed down upon it with straining, hopeless eyes. It was as if she +were struggling to nerve herself for that one last act of cowardice +which the despairing find so hard to resist. Then, with a deep-drawn +sigh, she raised the weapon with its muzzle ominously pointing at her +bosom.</p> + +<p>Again came a pause.</p> + +<p>Then she closed her eyes, as though fearing to witness the passing of +the daylight from her life, and her forefinger moved to embrace the +trigger. It reached its object, and its pressure tightened.</p> + +<p>But as it tightened, and the trigger even moved, she felt the warm +grip of a hand close over hers, and the pistol was turned from its +direction with a wrench.</p> + +<p>Her startled eyes abruptly opened, and her grip upon the weapon +relaxed, while a cry broke from her ashen lips. She had left the gun +in Buck’s hand, and his dark eyes were gazing into hers from his bed +amongst the crushed branches of the bush amidst which he was lying.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span></p><p>For long moments she stared at him almost without understanding. Then, +slowly, the color returned to her cheeks and lips, and great tears of +joy welled up into her loving eyes.</p> + +<p>“Buck,” she murmured, as the heavy tears slowly rolled down her +cheeks, and her bosom heaved with unspeakable joy. “My—my Buck.”</p> + +<p>For answer the man’s eyes smiled. Her heaven had opened at last.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + +<h3>—IN THE WILDERNESS</h3> + +<p>The golden sun was high in the heavens. Its splendor was pouring down +upon a gently steaming earth. But all its joyous light, all its +perfect beneficence could not undo one particle of the havoc the long +dark hours of night had wrought.</p> + +<p>High up on a shattered eminence, where a sea of tumbled rock marked +the face of Devil’s Hill, where the great hot lake had been held +suspended, Joan and Buck gazed out upon the battle-ground of nature’s +forces.</p> + +<p>Presently the girl’s eyes came back to the face of her lover. She +could not long keep them from the face, which, such a few hours ago, +she had believed she would never behold again in life. She felt as +though he were one returned to her from the grave, and feared lest she +should wake to find his returning only a dream.</p> + +<p>He was a strange figure. The tattered remains of his clothing were +scarcely enough to cover his nakedness, and Joan, with loving, +unskilled hands, had lavered and dressed his wounds with portions of +her own undergarments and the waters of the creek, whither, earlier, +she had laboriously supported his enfeebled body. But Providence had +spared him an added mercy besides bringing him back to life. It seemed +a sheer miracle that his bones had been left whole. His flesh was +torn, his whole body was terribly bruised and lacerated, but <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span>that +worst of all disasters in life had been spared him, and he was left +with the painful use of every limb.</p> + +<p>But the thought of this miracle left the man untouched. Only did Joan +remember, and offer up her thankfulness. The man was of the wild, he +was young, life was with him, life with all its joys and sorrows, all +its shadowy possibilities, so he recked nothing of what he had +escaped. That was his way.</p> + +<p>While Joan’s devoted eyes watched the steady light in his, staring out +so intently at the wreck of world before him, no word passed her lips. +It was as though he were the lord of their fate and she waited his +commands.</p> + +<p>But for long Buck had no thought for their personal concerns. He +forgot even the pains which racked his torn body, he forgot even the +regrets which the destruction he now beheld had first inspired him +with. He was marveling, he was awed at the thought of those dread +elements, those titanic forces he had witnessed at play.</p> + +<p>There lay the hideous skeleton picked bare to the bones. Every +semblance of the beauty lines, which, in the earth’s mature +completion, it had worn, had vanished, and only mouldering remains +were left. How had it happened? What terrible, or sublime purpose, had +been achieved during that night of terror? He could not think.</p> + +<p>His eyes dropped to that which lay immediately before him. He was +gazing into chaotic depths of torn black rock amidst which a great +cascade of water poured out from the bowels of the earth and flowed on +to join the waters of Yellow Creek. It was the site where had hung the +suspended lake. Half the great hill had been torn away by some +terrible subterranean upheaval, which <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span>seemed to have solely occurred +on that side where the lake had been, and where the hill had +confronted the distant camp. Gone were the workings of the miners. +Gone was that great bed of auriferous soil. And in their places lay an +ocean of rock, so vast, so torn, that the power which had hurled it +broadcast was inconceivable to his staggered mind.</p> + +<p>For a while he contemplated the scene with thoughts struggling and +emotions stirring. Then with a sigh he looked out beyond. The valley +of the creek, that little narrow strip of open grass-land, bordered by +pine forests all its length, was gone, too. The creek was now a +wide-spread expanse of flowing water, which had swept from its path +the last vestige of the handiwork of those people who had lived upon +the banks of the original stream.</p> + +<p>There was not a sign of a house or log hut to be seen anywhere. Gone, +gone, swept away like the buildings of children’s toy bricks.</p> + +<p>What of those who had dwelt where the water now flowed? Had they, too, +gone on the rushing tide? He wondered. Where had been their escape? +Maybe they had had time. And yet, somehow it seemed doubtful. The +skeleton forests stretched out on every hand to a great distance. They +backed where the camp had stood. They rose up beyond the northern +limits. To the west of the water it was the same. Had he not witnessed +the furnace upon that side? And here, here to the south would they +have faced this terrible barrier belching out its torrential waters, +perhaps amidst fire and smoke?</p> + +<p>He did not know. He could not think. They were gone as everything else +that indicated life was gone, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span>and—they two were left alone in a +wilderness of stricken earth.</p> + +<p>He sighed again as he thought of the gracious woods which the long +centuries had built up. All Nature’s wonderful labors, the patient +efforts of ages, wiped out in a few moments of her own freakish mood. +It was heart-breaking to one who had always loved the wild hills where +the all-powerful Dame’s whimsies had so long run riot.</p> + +<p>Then as he stared out upon the steaming horizon where hills greater +and greater rose up confronting him and narrowed the limits of his +vision, he saw where the dividing line ran. He remembered suddenly +that even in her destructions Nature had still controlled. The floods +of the heavens must have been abruptly poured out at some time during +the night, or the fire would still be raging on, searching out fresh +fuel beyond those hills, traveling on on and on through the limitless +forests which lay to the north, and south, and west.</p> + +<p>The memory gave him fresh hope. It told him that the world was still +outside waiting to welcome them to its hostels. And so he turned at +last to the patient woman at his side.</p> + +<p>“It seems so a’mighty queer, little Joan,” he said gently. “It seems +so a’mighty queer I can’t rightly get the hang of things. +Yesterday—yesterday—why, yesterday all this,” he waved an arm to +indicate the broken world about him, “was as God made it, an’ now +ther’s jest ruin—blank ruin that’ll take all your life, and mine, an’ +dozens who’re comin’ after us to—to build up agin. Yesterday this +camp was full of busy folk chasin’ a livin’ from the products Nature +had set here. Now she’s wiped <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span>’em out. Why? Yesterday a good man was +threatened by man’s law, an’ it looked as if that law was to suck us +all into its web an’ make criminals of us. Now he’s gone an’ the +law’ll be chased back to hunt around for its prey in places with less +danger to ’em. It’s all queer—mighty queer. An’ it’s queerer still to +think of you an’ me sittin’ here puzzlin’ out these things.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Joan nodded without removing her eyes from the face she loved so well. +Then after a pause she went on—</p> + +<p>“You think—he’s dead?”</p> + +<p>Buck was some time before he answered her. His grave eyes were fixed +on a spot across the water, where a break in the charred remains of +the forest revealed a sky-line of green grass.</p> + +<p>“How else?” he said, at last. “He was behind me with your aunt. He was +on the hill. You’ve scoured what remains of the plateau. Wal, he ain’t +there, an’ he didn’t come down the path wher’ we come. We ain’t see +’em anyways. Yep,” he went on, with a sigh, “guess the Padre’s dead, +an’ one o’ them rocks down ther’ is markin’ his grave. Seems queer. He +went with her. She was the woman he had loved. They’ve gone together, +even though she just—hated him. He was a good man an’—he’d got grit. +He was the best man in the world an’—an’ my big friend.”</p> + +<p>His voice was husky with emotion, and something like a sob came with +his last word, and Joan’s eyes filled with tears of sympathy and +regret.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” he went on, after a pause. “I ain’t got it right. The fall +knocked you plumb out. An’ then?”</p> + +<p>His eyes were still on the distant break of the trees.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span></p><p>“I don’t know what happened,” Joan said wearily, spreading out her +drenched skirt to the now blazing sun. “I know I woke up quite +suddenly, feeling so cold that even my teeth were chattering. The rain +was falling like—like hailstones. It was dark, so dark, and I was +terribly afraid. I called to you, but got no answer, and—and I +thought I was alone. It was terrible. The thunder had ceased, and the +lightning was no longer playing. There was no longer any forest fire, +or—or earthquakings. All was still and black, and the rain—oh, it +was dreadful. I sat where I was, calling you at intervals. I sat on, +and on, and on, till I thought the dark would never go, that day would +never break again, and I began to think that all the world had come to +an end, and I, alone, was left. Then at last the rain stopped, and I +saw that day was breaking. But it was not until broad daylight that I +knew where I was. And then—and then I saw you lying close at my feet. +Oh, Buck, don’t let me think of it any more. Don’t remind me of it. It +was awful. I believed you were dead—dead. And it seemed to me that my +heart died, too. It was so dreadful that I think I—I was mad. And +then—you saved me—again.”</p> + +<p>Buck raised a stiff arm and gently drew her toward him with a +wonderfully protecting movement. The girl yielded herself to him, and +he kissed her sweet upturned lips.</p> + +<p>“No, little Joan, gal. Don’t you think of it. We got other things to +think of—a whole heap.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” cried the girl eagerly. “We’ve got life—together.”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded with a grave smile.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span></p><p>“An’ we must sure keep it.”</p> + +<p>He released her and struggled to his feet, where he stood supporting +himself by clinging to a projection of rock.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Buck? What are you going to do?” Joan demanded +anxiously, springing to her feet and shaking out her drenched skirt.</p> + +<p>“Do? Why, look yonder. Ther’ across the water. Ther’ wher’ them +burnt-up woods break. See that patch o’ grass on the sky-line? Look +close, an’ you’ll see two—somethings standin’ right ther’. Wal, we +got to git near enough that way so Cæsar can hear my whistle.”</p> + +<p>“Cæsar? Is—is that Cæsar? Why—how——?”</p> + +<p>Buck nodded his head.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I’m guessin’. I ain’t sayin’. But—wal, you can’t be sure this +ways off. Y’ see, Cæsar has a heap o’ sense, an’ his saddle-bags are +loaded down with a heap o’ good food. An’ you’re needin’ that—same as +me.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> + +<h3>LOVE’S VICTORY</h3> + +<p>The rightness of Buck’s conjecture was proved before evening, but not +without long and painful effort. Joan was utterly weary, and the man +was reduced to such weakness and disability as, in all his life, he +had never known.</p> + +<p>But they faced their task with the knowledge that with every moment of +delay in procuring food their chances of escape from that land of ruin +were lessening. With food, and, consequently, with Buck’s horse, +safety would be practically assured. They would then, too, be able to +prosecute a search for the man they both had learned to love so well.</p> + +<p>With nightfall their hopes were realized, but only at a terrible cost +to the man. So great had become his weakness and suffering that it was +Joan who was forced to make provision for the night.</p> + +<p>Both horses were grazing together with an unconcern that was truly +equine. Nor, when reviewed, was their escape the miracle it appeared. +At the height of the storm they had been left on the farthest confines +of the plateau of Devil’s Hill, where no fire would reach them, and at +a considerable distance from the lake. Their native terror of fire +would have held them there in a state bordering on paralysis. In all +probability no power on earth could have induced them to stir from the +spot where they had been left, until the drenching rain had blotted +out the furnace raging below. This had been Buck’s thought. Then, +perhaps, laboring under a fear of the quakings caused by the +subterranean fires of the hill, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span>their hungry stomachs crying out +for food, they had left the dreaded hill in quest of the pastures they +craved.</p> + +<p>The well-stocked saddle-bags, which Buck’s forethought had filled for +the long trail, now provided these lonely wanderers in the wilderness +with the food they needed, the saddle-blankets and the saddles +furnished their open-air couches, and the horses, well, the horses +were there to afford them escape when the time came, and, in the +meantime, could be left to recover from the effects of the storm and +stress through which they, too, had passed.</p> + +<p>With the following dawn Buck’s improvement was wonderful, and Joan +awoke from a deep, night-long slumber, refreshed and hopeful. An +overhauling of their supplies showed them sufficient food, used +sparingly, to last a week. And with this knowledge Buck outlined their +plans to the girl, who hung upon his every word.</p> + +<p>“We can’t quit yet,” he said, when they had broken their fast.</p> + +<p>The girl waited, watching his dark contemplative eyes as they looked +across the water at the diminished hill.</p> + +<p>“Nope,” he went on. “We owe him more’n that. We must chase around, +an’—find him. We must——”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Joan broke in, her eyes full of eager acquiescence. “We must +not leave him—to—to—the coyotes.” She shuddered.</p> + +<p>“No. Guess I’ll git the horses.”</p> + +<p>“You? Oh, Buck—let me. I am well and strong. It is my turn to do +something now. Your work is surely finished.”</p> + +<p>Her pleading eyes smiled up into his, but the man shook his head with +that decision she had come to recognize and obey almost without +question.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span></p><p>“Not on your life, little gal,” he said, in his kindly, resolute +fashion, and Joan was left to take her woman’s place in their scheme +of things.</p> + +<p>But she shared in the search of the hill and the woods. She shared in +the ceaseless hunt for three long, weary, heart-breaking days over a +land of desolation and loneliness. She rode at Buck’s side hour after +hour on the sturdy horse that had served the Padre so faithfully, till +her body was healthily weary, and her eyes grew heavy with straining. +But she welcomed the work. For, with the tender mother eye of the +woman in her, she beheld that which gladdened her heart, and made the +hardest work a mere labor of love. Each passing day, almost with each +passing hour, she witnessed the returning vigor of the man she loved. +His recuperative powers were marvelous, and she watched his bodily +healing as though he were her own helpless offspring.</p> + +<p>For the rest their search was hopeless. The battling forces of a +storm-riven earth had claimed their toll to the last fraction, and +with the cunning of the miser had secreted the levy. Not a trace was +there of any human life but their own. The waters from the hill swept +the little valley, and hugged to their bosom the secrets that lay +beneath their surface. And the fall of rock held deeply buried all +that which it had embraced in its rending. The farm was utterly +destroyed, and with it had fallen victims every head of stock Joan had +possessed. The old fur fort had yielded to the fire demon, where, for +all the ages, it had resisted the havoc of storm. There was nothing +left to mark the handiwork of man, nothing but the terrible +destruction it had brought about.</p> + +<p>Thus it was on the fourth morning, after breaking their <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span>fast, and the +horses had been saddled, Buck once more packed the saddle-bags and +strapped them into their places behind the saddles. Joan watched him +without question. She no longer had any question for that which he +chose to ordain.</p> + +<p>When all was ready he lifted her into her saddle, which she rode +astride, in the manner of the prairie. She was conscious of his +strength, now returned to its full capacity. She was nothing in his +arms now, she might have been a child by the ease with which he lifted +her. He looked to her horse’s bridle, he saw that she was comfortable. +Then he vaulted into Cæsar’s saddle with all his old agility.</p> + +<p>“Which way, Buck?” The girl spoke with the easy manner of one who has +little concern, but her eyes belied her words. A strange thrill was +storming in her bosom.</p> + +<p>“Leeson Butte,” said Buck, a deep glow shining in his dark eyes.</p> + +<p>Joan let her horse amble beside the measured, stately walk of Cæsar. +Her reins hung loose, and her beautiful eyes were shining as they +gazed out eagerly ahead. She was thrilling with a happiness that +conflicted with a strange nervousness at the naming of their +destination. She had no protest to offer, no question. It was as if +the lord of her destiny had spoken, and it was her happiness and +desire to obey.</p> + +<p>They rode on, and their way lay amidst the charred skeleton of a wide, +stately wood. The air was still faint with the reek of burning. There +was no darkness here beyond the blackened tree trunks, for the +brilliant summer sun lit up the glades, which, for ages, no sun’s rays +had ever penetrated. The sense of ruin was passing from the minds of +these children of the wilderness. Their focus <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span>had already adapted +itself. Almost, even, their youthful eyes and hearts saw new beauties +springing up about them. It was the work of that wonderful fount of +hope, which dies so hardly in us all, and in youth never.</p> + +<p>At length they left the mouldering skeletons behind them, and the +gracious, waving, tawny grass of the plains opened out before their +gladdened eyes. A light breeze tempered the glorious sunlight, and set +ripples afloat upon the waving crests of the motionless rollers of a +grassy ocean.</p> + +<p>Buck drew his horse down to a walk beside the girl, and his look had +lost its reflection of the sadness they were leaving behind. He had no +desire now to look back. For all his life the memory of his “big +friend” would remain, for the rest his way lay directly ahead, his +life, and his—hope.</p> + +<p>“It’s all wonderful—wonderful out here, little Joan,” he said, +smiling tenderly down upon her sweet face from the superior height at +which Cæsar carried him. “Seems like we’re goin’ to read pages of +a—fresh book. Seems like the old book’s all mussed up, so we can’t +learn its lessons ever again.”</p> + +<p>Joan returned the warmth of his gaze. But she shook her head with an +assumption of wisdom.</p> + +<p>“It’s the same book, dear, only it’s a different chapter. You see the +story always goes on. It must go on—to the end. Characters drop out. +They die, or are—killed. Incidents happen, some pleasant, some—full +of sadness. But that’s all part of the story, and must be. The story +always goes on to the end. You see,” she added with a tender smile, +“the hero’s still in the picture.”</p> + +<p>“An’ the—gal-hero.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span></p><p>Joan shook her head decidedly.</p> + +<p>“There’s no heroine to this story,” she said. “You need courage to be +a heroine, and I—I have none. Do you know, Buck,” she went on +seriously, “when I look back on all that’s gone I realize how much my +own silly weakness has caused the trouble. If I had only had the +courage to laugh at my aunt’s prophecies, my aunt’s distorted +pronouncements, all this trouble would have been saved. I should never +have come to the farm. My aunt would never have found the Padre. Those +men would never have fired those woods when they burnt my farm, +and—and the gentle-hearted Padre would never have lost his life.”</p> + +<p>It was Buck’s turn to shake his head.</p> + +<p>“Wrong, wrong, little gal,” he said with a warmth of decision. “When +you came to us—to me, an’ we saw your trouble, we jest set to work to +clear a heap o’ cobwebs from your mind. That was up to us, because you +were sure sufferin’, and you needed help. But all we said, all we told +you not to believe, those things were sure marked out, an’ you, an’ +all of us had to go thro’ with ’em. We can’t talk away the plans o’ +Providence. You jest had to come to that farm. You jest had to do all +the things you did. Maybe your auntie, in that queer way of hers, told +you the truth, maybe she saw things us others didn’t jest see. Who can +tell?”</p> + +<p>Joan’s eyes lit with a startled look as she listened to the man’s +words. They made her wonder at the change in him. Had that terrible +cataclysm impressed him with a new view of the life by which he was +surrounded? It might be. Then, suddenly, a fresh thought occurred to +her. A memory rose up and confronted her, and a sudden joyous anxiety +thrilled her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span></p><p>“Do you really think that, Buck?” she cried eagerly. “Do you? Do you?”</p> + +<p>“Things seem changed, little gal,” he said, half ruefully. “Seems to +me the past week’s been years an’ years long.” He laughed. “Maybe I +got older. Maybe I think those things now, same as most folks think +’em—when they get older.”</p> + +<p>But Joan was full of her own thought, and she went on eagerly, passing +his reasons by.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Buck, when Aunt Mercy told me all my troubles, she told me +something else. But it seemed so small by the side of those other +things, that I—that I almost forgot it. What was it? Her words? Yes, +yes, I asked her, was there no hope for me? No means by which I could +be saved from my fate? And she said that my only hope lay in finding a +love that was stronger than death. These were her words——</p> + +<p>“‘I loved your father with a passion nothing, no disaster could +destroy. Go you, child, and find you such a love. Go you and find a +love so strong that no disaster can kill it. And maybe life may still +have some compensations for you, maybe it will lift the curse from +your suffering shoulders. It—it is the only thing in the world that +is stronger than disaster. It is the only thing in the world that is +stronger than—death.’”</p> + +<p>Her words dropped to a whisper as she finished speaking, and she +waited, like a criminal awaiting sentence, for the man’s judgment on +them. Her eyes were downcast, and her rounded bosom was stirring +tumultuously. What would he say? What would he think? And yet she must +have told him. Was he not the one person in the world who held her +fate in his hands? Yes, he must <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span>know all there was in her mind. And +she knew in her heart that he would understand as she wanted him to +understand.</p> + +<p>Buck suddenly reined Cæsar in, and brought him to a standstill, +turning him about so that he looked back upon the world they were +leaving behind them forever. In silence Joan responded to his +movement, and her horse closed up against the other.</p> + +<p>“Guess your auntie’s notions were all queer, so queer they’re mighty +hard to understand,” he said reflectively. “But seems to me she’s hit +a big truth some way. That curse is sure lifted—sure, sure.”</p> + +<p>He pointed at the grim outline of Devil’s Hill, now fading in the +distance.</p> + +<p>“Look ther’ yonder. Yonder’s the disaster, yonder is—death. An’ +we—we’ve sure passed through it. She’s right. Our love is stronger +than disaster—stronger than death.”</p> + +<p>Then he turned and gazed ardently into her upturned face. “Guess we +sure found that love together, little gal. An’ it’s ours to keep +forever an’ ever. Ther’ ain’t no other love comin’ around. I’m yours +fer jest so long as I have life, an’ you—wal, you’re jest my whole, +whole world.”</p> + +<p>He leant toward her, his dark eyes shining with his great love. +Reaching out he drew her toward him, his strong, protecting arm +encircling her slim waist.</p> + +<p>“Say, little gal,” he went on urgingly, “we’re goin’ right on now to +Leeson Butte. Ther’s a passon ther’ who can fix us right. An’ when +that’s done, an’ ther’ ain’t nuthin’ in the world can come between us, +why, then I sure got two mighty strong hands yearnin’ to git busy +handin’ you those things which can make a woman’s life <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span>easy, an’—an’ +happy. Will you come, little Joan? Will you sure come?”</p> + +<p>His eager young face was close to hers, and his deep breath fanned her +warm cheek. She gave him no verbal reply. At that moment she had no +words. But she turned toward him. And, as she turned, her lips met his +in one long, passionate kiss. He needed no other reply. She was giving +him herself. It was the soul of the woman speaking.</p> + +<p>Some moments later their horses were again heading for Leeson Butte. +The eyes of the girl were shining with a happiness such as she had +never known before, and Buck sat with head erect, and the light of a +great purpose in his eyes. For a while they rode thus. Then the man’s +eyes twinkled with a sudden thought. For a moment he glanced at the +golden head so close beside him. Then he smiled.</p> + +<p>“Say, little Joan,” he cried, “guess you’re that gal-hero after all.”</p> + +<p>Joan responded to his look.</p> + +<p>“How?” she inquired, with a heightened color.</p> + +<p>“Why, jest git a look at me. Me! You’re goin’ to marry me! I’d sure +say you’ve a heap more grit than any gal-hero I’ve heard tell of.”</p> + +<p>Joan surveyed his unkempt figure,—the torn clothing, his unshaven +face; the bandages made of her own undergarments, which he still +wore,—and the happy smile on her young face broadened.</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, Buck, dear,” she said joyously, “you can’t be a proper +hero if you don’t carry the scars of battle on you.” She sighed +contentedly. “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t need much ‘grit’ to marry +you.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber’s Note:</span></h3> + +<p>Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters’ errors; otherwise, +every effort has been made to remain true to the author’s words and intent.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Woman, by Ridgwell Cullum + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WOMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 29628-h.htm or 29628-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/6/2/29628/ + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +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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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/29628-h/images/i001.jpg b/29628-h/images/i001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3fcf1e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/29628-h/images/i001.jpg diff --git a/29628-h/images/i003.jpg b/29628-h/images/i003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3cb5835 --- /dev/null +++ b/29628-h/images/i003.jpg diff --git a/29628.txt b/29628.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9d6644 --- /dev/null +++ b/29628.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14375 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Woman, by Ridgwell Cullum + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Golden Woman + A Story of the Montana Hills + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + +Release Date: August 7, 2009 [EBook #29628] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WOMAN *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + The Golden Woman + + + A Story of the Montana Hills + + + By RIDGWELL CULLUM + + AUTHOR OF + "The Way of the Strong," "The Law Breakers," + "The Trail of the Axe," Etc. + + With Frontispiece in Colors + + A. L. BURT COMPANY + + Publishers New York + + Published by Arrangement with GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY + + + + + Copyright, 1913, by + GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY + Published February, 1916 + + _All rights reserved_ + Printed in U. S. A. + + + + +[Illustration: "It's the same book, dear, only a different chapter."] + + + + +Contents + + + I. AUNT MERCY 9 + II. OVER THE TELEPHONE 20 + III. THE PARIAH 26 + IV. TWO MEN OF THE WILDERNESS 39 + V. THE STEEPS OF LIFE 54 + VI. OUT OF THE STORM 73 + VII. A SIMPLE MANHOOD 85 + VIII. THE SECRET OF THE HILL 96 + IX. GATHERING FOR THE FEAST 106 + X. SOLVING THE RIDDLE 110 + XI. THE SHADOW OF THE PAST 121 + XII. THE GOLDEN WOMAN 133 + XIII. THE CALL OF YOUTH 149 + XIV. A WHIRLWIND VISIT 158 + XV. THE CLAIMS OF DUTY 165 + XVI. GOLD AND ALLOY 177 + XVII. TWO POINTS OF VIEW 187 + XVIII. WHEN LIFE HOLDS NO SHADOWS 204 + XIX. A STUDY IN MISCHIEF 217 + XX. THE ABILITIES OF MRS. RANSFORD 229 + XXI. THE MEETING ON THE TRAIL 240 + XXII. A MAN'S SUPPORT 246 + XXIII. THE BRIDGING OF YEARS 258 + XXIV. BEASLEY PLAYS THE GAME 273 + XXV. BUCK LAUGHS AT FATE 286 + XXVI. IRONY 301 + XXVII. THE WEB OF FATE 313 + XXVIII. A BLACK NIGHT 325 + XXIX. BEASLEY IN HIS ELEMENT 334 + XXX. THE MOVING FINGER 356 + XXXI. THE JOY OF BEASLEY 364 + XXXII. STRONGER THAN DEATH 374 + XXXIII. THE TEMPEST BREAKS 389 + XXXIV. THE EYES OF THE HILLS 402 + XXXV. FROM OUT OF THE ABYSS 407 + XXXVI. THE CATACLYSM 420 + XXXVII. ALONE-- 427 + XXXVIII. --IN THE WILDERNESS 432 + XXXIX. LOVE'S VICTORY 439 + + + + +The Golden Woman + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AUNT MERCY + + +An elderly woman looked up from the crystal globe before her. The +sound of horse's hoofs, clattering up to the veranda, had caught her +attention. But the hard, gray eyes had not yet recovered their normal +frigidity of expression. There were still traces in them of the +groping mind, searching on, amidst the chaos of a world unseen. Nor +was Mercy Lascelles posing at the trade which yielded her something +more than her daily bread. She had no reason for pose. She was an +ardent and proficient student of that remote science which has for its +field of research the border-land between earthly life and the +ultimate. + +For some moments she gazed half-vacantly through the window. Then +alertness and interest came back to her eyes, and her look resumed its +normal hardness. It was an unlovely face, but its unloveliness lay in +its expression. There was something so unyielding in the keen, +aquiline nose and pointed chin. The gray eyes were so cold. The +pronounced brows were almost threatening in their marking and +depression. There was not a feature in her face that was not handsome, +and yet, collectively, they gave her a look at once forbidding, and +even cruel. + +There was no softening, there never was any softening in Mercy +Lascelles' attitude toward the world now. Years ago she may have given +signs of the gentler emotions of her woman's heart. It is only +reasonable to suppose that at some time or other she possessed them. +But now no one was ever permitted beyond the harsh exterior. Perhaps +she owed the world a grudge. Perhaps she hoped, by closing the doors +of her soul, her attitude would be accepted as the rebuff she intended +to convey. + +"Is that you, Joan?" she demanded in a sharp, masterful tone. + +"It certainly is, auntie," came the gentle, girlish response from the +veranda. + +The next moment the door of the little morning-room opened, and a tall +girl stood framed in its white setting. + +Joan Stanmore possessed nothing whatever in common with her aunt. She +was of that healthy type of American girl that treats athletics as a +large part of her education. She was tall and fair, with a mass of +red-gold hair tucked away under the mannish hat which was part of her +dark green, tightly-fitting riding habit. Her brow was broad, and her +face, a perfect oval, was open and starred with a pair of fearless +blue eyes of so deep a hue as to be almost violet. Her nose and mouth +were delicately moulded, but her greatest beauty lay in the exquisite +peach-bloom of her soft, fair skin. + +Joan Stanmore was probably the handsomest girl in St. Ellis City, in a +suburb of which she and her aunt lived. She was certainly one of the +most popular girls, in spite of the overshadowing threat of an aunt +whom everybody disliked and whom most people feared. Her disposition +was one of serene gentleness, yet as fearless and open as her +beautiful eyes suggested. She was of a strongly independent spirit +too, but, even so, the woman in her was never for a moment jeopardized +by it; she was never anything but a delightful femininity, rejoicing +wholesomely in the companionship of the opposite sex. + +She and her aunt had lived for five years in this suburb of St. Ellis. +They had left New York for the southwest because the profession of +the elder woman had gained unpleasant notoriety in that city of +contradictions. The calling of the seer had appealed well enough to +the citizens individually, but a wave of moral rectitude, hurling its +municipal government spluttering upon a broken shore of repentance, +had decided it to expurgate such wickedness from its midst, lest the +local canker become a pestilence which might jeopardize the immortal +soul of the citizen, and, incidentally, hand the civic control over to +the opposition party. + +So aunt and orphaned niece had moved westward, seeking immunity in a +region where such obscure professions were regarded with a more +lenient eye. Joan had little enough sympathy with her relative's +studies. She neither believed in them, nor did she disbelieve. She was +so young, and so full of that vitality which makes for the wholesome +enjoyment of life, as viewed through eyes as yet undimmed by the +bitterness of experience, that she had neither time, place, nor +serious thought for such matters. Her only interest, if interest it +could be called, was an occasional wonderment at the extent of the +harvest Aunt Mercy reaped out of the credulity of the merchant and +finance-princes of the city. This, and the state of her aunt's health, +as pronounced by Dr. Valmer, were the only things which ever brought +such matters as "crystal gazing" and scientific astrology into her +mind. Otherwise horoscopes, prognostications, warnings, omens, passed +her by as mere words to raise a smile of youthful derision at the +expense of those who heaped money for such readings into the seer's +lap. + +Joan was in no way dependent upon her aunt. Living with her was a +matter of personal choice. Mercy Lascelles was her only relative for +one thing, and the elder woman being a lonely spinster, it seemed only +right that Joan should make her home under her scarcely hospitable +roof. Then, too, there was another reason which influenced the girl. +It was a purely sentimental reason, such as at her age might well +appeal to her. A whisper had reached her to the effect that, hard and +unsympathetic as her Aunt Mercy was, romance at one time had place in +her life--a romance which left her the only sufferer, a romance that +had spelt a life's disaster for her. To the adamantine fortune-teller +was attributed a devotion so strong, so passionate in the days of her +youth that her reason had been well-nigh unhinged by the hopelessness +of it. The object of it was her own sister's husband, Joan's father. +It was said that at the moment of his death Mercy Lascelles' youth +died too. All softness, all gentleness passed out of her life and left +her the hard, prematurely aged woman she now was. + +As a consequence Joan felt that her duty lay beside a woman whom Fate +had treated so ill; that duty demanded that an effort must be made to +bring a little brightness into so solitary and loveless a life. + +So her choice was made. And as she grew accustomed to the stern +companionship she often found herself wondering how a woman of such +curiously harsh disposition could ever have been the victim of such a +passion as was attributed to her. It was almost inconceivable, +especially when she tried to picture the father, whom she had never +known, but who was reputed to be such an intensely human man, so full +of the many frailties of a Wall Street gambler. + +Joan now saw the crystal lying in her aunt's lap. She saw, too, the +fevered eyes lifted to her face. And with an uncomfortable feeling of +disaster pending she moved across to the window-seat and flung herself +upon the pile of down cushions. + +"I do hope you're not--not seeing things again, auntie," she said in +an anxious voice, her eyes fixed resentfully upon the detested +crystal. "You know Dr. Valmer forbade you--practicing for at least six +months," she added warningly. + +"Dr. Valmer's a fool," came the sharp retort. + +The girl flushed. It was not the words: it was the manner that could +so hurt. But this time she felt it her duty to continue. Her aunt's +health was seriously affected, and the doctor had warned her +personally about it. + +"I dare say he is, auntie," she protested. "But you pay him good +dollars for being one. What is the use of it if you don't take his +advice?" + +Just for a second a peculiar look flashed into Mercy's eyes. Then she +allowed them to drop to the crystal in her lap. + +"Go and change your habit. It will keep you busy on your own affairs. +They need all your attention--just now." + +The rudeness left Joan untouched. She was too seriously concerned. + +Mercy Lascelles had only recently recovered from a bad nervous +breakdown, the result, so Dr. Valmer, the specialist, assured her, of +the enormous strain of her studies. He had warned Joan of the danger +to her aunt's mental balance, and begged her to use every effort to +keep her from her practice. But Joan found her task well-nigh +impossible, and the weight of her responsibility was heavy upon her. + +She turned away to the window and gazed out. She was feeling rather +hopeless. There were other things worrying her too, small enough +things, no doubt, but sufficiently personal to trouble her youthful +heart and shadow all her thought with regret. She was rapidly learning +that however bright the outlook of her life might be there were always +clouds hovering ready to obscure the smiling of her sun. + +She looked at the sky as though the movement were inspired by her +thought. There was the early summer sun blazing down upon an already +parching earth. And there, too, were the significant clouds, fleecy +white clouds for the most part, but all deepening to a heavy, gray +density. At any moment they might obscure that ruddy light and pour +out their dismal measure of discomfort, turning the world from a +smiling day-dream to a nightmare of drab regret. + +Her mood lightened as she turned to the picture of the garden city in +which they lived. It was called a garden city, but, more properly, it +was a beautiful garden village, or hamlet. The place was all hills and +dales, wood-clad from their crowns to the deepest hollows in which the +sandy, unmade roads wound their ways. + +Here and there, amidst the perfect sunlit woodlands, she could see the +flashes of white, which indicated homes similar to their own. They +were scattered in a cunningly haphazard fashion so as to preserve the +rural aspect of the place, and constructed on lines that could under +no circumstances offend the really artistic eye. And yet each house +was the last word in modernity; each house represented the +abiding-place of considerable wealth. + +Yes, there was something very beautiful in all this life with which +she was surrounded. The pity of it was that there must be those clouds +always hovering. She glanced up at the sky again. And with a shiver +she realized that the golden light had vanished, and a great +storm-cloud was ominously spreading its purplish pall. + +At that moment her aunt's voice, low and significant, reached her from +across the room. And its tone told her at once that she was talking to +herself. + +"You fool--you poor fool. It awaits you as surely as it awaits +everybody else. Ride on. Your fate awaits you. And thank your God it +is kept hidden from your blinded eyes." + +Joan started. + +"Auntie!" + +A pair of cold, gray eyes lifted to her face. The shaking, bony hands +clutched nervously at the crystal. The eyes stared unseeingly into the +girl's face for some moments, then slowly the fever crept into them +again--the fever which the doctor had warned Joan against. + +"Oh, auntie, put--put that away." Joan sprang from her seat and ran to +the other's side, where she knelt imploringly. "Don't--don't talk so. +You--frighten me." Then she hurried on as though to distract the +woman's attention. "Listen to me. I want to tell you about my ride. I +want to tell about----" + +"You need tell me nothing. I know it all," Mercy broke in, roughly +pushing the clinging hands from about her spare waist. "You rode with +young Sorley this morning--Dick Sorley. He asked you to marry him. He +told you that since he had known you he had made a small fortune on +Wall Street. That he had followed you here because you were the only +woman in the world for him. He told you that life without you was +impossible, and many other foolish things only fitted for the +credulity of a young girl. You refused him. You regretted your refusal +in conventional words. And he rode away, back to his hotel, and--his +fate." + +The girl listened breathlessly, wondering at the accuracy of this +harsh recapitulation of the events of her morning ride. But as the +final words fell from the seer's lips she cried out in protest-- + +"Oh, auntie. His fate? How? How? What do you mean? How do you know all +this?" + +Joan had risen to her feet and stood eyeing her aunt in wonder and +amazement. The elder woman fondled her crystal in her thin hands. A +look akin to joy suddenly leapt into her burning eyes. Her lips were +parted so that they almost smiled. + +"It is here, here. All here," she declared exultingly. "The mandates +of Fate are voiced amongst the stars, and the moving hand delineates +unerringly the enactments--here--here." She raised the crystal and +gazed upon it with eyes alight with ecstasy. "It is for the eye to +see, and for the mind to read. But the brain that comprehends must +know no thought of human passions, no human emotions. There is nothing +hidden in all the world from those who seek with the power of heart +and brain." + +Joan's amazement passed. It was replaced by something like horror and +even terror as she listened. To her the words were dreadful, they +spoke of the woman's straining brain, and her thoughts flew to the +doctor's verdict. Was this the madness he had feared? Was this the +final crash of a brain driven to breaking-point? The questions flew +through her mind only to be swept aside by the recollection of what +her aunt had told her of her morning ride. It was true--true. Every +word of it. Where could the insanity lie? No--no. It could not be. +But--but--such a power! + +Her thoughts were cut short. Again her aunt was speaking. But now her +voice had once more resumed its customary harshness. The fire had died +out of her eyes. Again the dreaded crystal was lying in her lap, +fondled by loving fingers. And something approaching a chuckle of +malice was underlying the words which flowed so rapidly from her thin +lips. + +"Haven't you learned yet? Can't you read what the hand of Fate is +trying to point out to your blinded eyes? Did not the man Cahusac ask +you to marry him? Did not you refuse him? And did not he die of +typhoid within two weeks of committing that foolishness? And Charlie +Hemming. He dared to make love to you. What then? Didn't he make a +fortune on the Cotton Exchange? Didn't he tell you that it was you who +brought him his luck? Luck? Your luck is disaster--disaster disguised. +What happened? Hemming plunged into an orgie of riotous living when +you refused him. Didn't he squander his fortune, bolt to Mexico, and +in twelve months didn't he get shot as a rebel and a renegade, and +thus add himself to the list of the victims of your--so-called +'luck'? Luck! Oh, the madness, the blindness of it!" + +The woman's passionate bitterness had lost all sense of proportion. +She saw only through her straining nerves. And the injustice of it all +brought swift protest to Joan's lips. + +"You are wrong. You are cruel--bitterly, wickedly cruel, auntie," she +cried. "How am I responsible? What have I done?" + +In an instant the gray eyes were turned upon her with something akin +to ferocity, and her voice rang with passion. + +"Wrong? Cruel? I am stating undeniable facts. I am telling you what +has happened. And now I am going to tell you the result of your +morning's ride. How are you responsible? What have you done? Dick +Sorley has gone to his fate as surely as though you had thrust a knife +through his heart." + +"Aunt! How--how dare----?" + +"How dare I say such things? Because I am telling you the truth--which +you cannot bear to face. You must and shall hear it. Who are you to +escape the miseries of life such as we all have to suffer? Such as you +have helped to make _me_ suffer." + +"Don't--don't!" Joan covered her face with her hands, as though to +shut out the sight of that cruel, working face before her--as though +to shut out of her mind the ruthless accusation hurled at her. + +But the seer was full of the bitterness so long stored up in her +heart, and the moment had come when she could no longer contain it +beneath the cold mask she had worn for twenty years. The revelation +was hers. Her strange mind and senses had witnessed the scenes that +now held her in the grip of their horror. They had driven her to the +breaking-point, and no longer had she thought for anything but her own +sufferings, and the injustice that a pariah should walk at large, +unknown to the world, unknown to itself. + +"Don't?" The woman laughed mirthlessly. Her thin lips parted, but the +light in her eyes was unrelenting. "I tell you it is so. Dick Sorley +has gone to his fate. Straight to his doom from your side. You sent +him to it. I have witnessed the whole enactment of it here--in this +crystal. You, and you alone, have killed him--killed him as surely as +though you had deliberately murdered him! Hark! That is the telephone +bell ringing----" + +She paused as the shrill peal of the instrument rang through the room. +There was a prolonged ringing. Then it broke off. Then again and again +it rang, in short, impatient jerks. + +"Go to it, girl. Go and listen to the message. You say I am cruel. +Hear what that senseless thing has to tell you. Listen to the voice at +the other end. It is at the hospital. The doctor is there, and he will +speak to you. And in a ward adjacent, your discarded lover +lies--dead." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OVER THE TELEPHONE + + +From the depths of her high-backed chair Mercy Lascelles stared at the +white door beyond which Joan had just vanished. Her gaunt figure was +no longer huddled over the fateful crystal she still clutched in her +two hands. Her brain was busy, and her eyes were hot and feverish. + +She was not thinking of the girl. She was not even thinking of the +message traveling over the wire at that moment. That she knew. For her +it had no greater significance than that it was the corroboration +necessary to convince the girl who was receiving it--to convince her +of the truth of that which she had charged her with. + +Her mind was far away, back in the dim years of her earlier womanhood. +Back amidst scenes of disaster through which she had long since +passed. All the old pain and suffering was at the surface again. Again +was she torn by the bitterness and injustice that had robbed her of +all that seemed good to her in life. Again through her mental picture +moved the figures of two men and one woman, the characters who went to +make up the cast of her wretched drama. Her feelings were once more +afire with hatred, hatred for one, and, for the others, a profound, +contemptuous bitterness. + +But hatred was dominant. The memory of one of those men had always +power to drive her to the verge of madness. He was a handsome, +brown-haired man of powerful physique. A man whose gentle manner and +swift, hot temper she abhorred, and the memory of whose influence upon +her life had still power to grind to ashes every gentle feeling she +ever possessed. + +It was of one of his terrible tempers she was thinking now. He had +displayed a fury she could never, would never forget. It was a memory +that tripped her even now at every turn, till it had become something +akin to an obsession. + +Every detail of the scene was as clear cut in her mind as a hideous +cameo, every word he had uttered, the accusations, the insinuations he +had made. Even the room, with its simple furnishings, its neatness, +its air of care--her care--stood out sharply in her memory. She +remembered it all so well. She was in the midst of preparing Charles +Stanmore's supper, and Joan, only a couple of weeks old, was fast +asleep in an adjoining bedroom. He had chosen this time to call, +because he knew that she, Mercy, would be alone. + +She remembered his handsome face clouded with sullen anger and +jealousy when she let him in at the door of the apartment. And then +his first words when he took up his position before the hard-coal +stove in the parlor-- + +"So you've pitched everything to the devil, and taken up your abode +with Charlie," he began, in tones of jealous fury. "And he--he is your +brother-in-law." + +There was no mistaking his meaning. He intended that she should make +no mistake, for he added a laugh--a hateful laugh--to his words. + +This was the man who had asked her to marry him almost numberless +times. This was the man whom she had refused time and again, making it +plain that, however hopelessly, her love was given to another. This +was the man who knew that she had come at her sister's death to care +for the little, new-born, motherless, baby girl, and help the man whom +she had always loved out of the hopeless dilemma in which he found +himself. This was the man who was the lifelong friend of Charles +Stanmore, whose mistress he was accusing her of having become. + +She remembered the sudden anger which leapt to her brain. She +remembered, too, the thought which came in its midst, and formulated +her instant retort. + +"Yes," she said coldly. "I have." + +Then she saw the real man as she had now come to regard him. She +remembered the sudden blaze of his eyes, the ghastly pallor of his +face, the look of almost insane jealousy which he turned upon her. And +then came that never-to-be-forgotten insult, those words which had +seared themselves upon her woman's heart as though branded thereon +with red-hot irons. + +"And you are the woman I have loved. Woman?" He laughed. "It's too +good for you. Do you know what we men call such creatures as you? All +this time you have waited--waited, and the moment your poor sister is +in her grave, almost before the blood in her veins is cold, you seize +your opportunity to fulfil your mad desire. Taking advantage of +Charlie's wretchedness and trouble, you force yourself upon him. You +force a position upon him from which there is no escape. The world +will accept the position at the value you intend, and he is powerless +to do anything but accept it too. You meant to have him, and I suppose +he is yours by now. And all this time I have wasted an honest love on +you--you----" + +And she had answered him, calmly and deliberately, before he could +utter the filthy epithet she knew he intended. + +"Please keep your voice down, or--or you'll wake little Joan." + +Even now she could never quite understand her own attitude at the +moment. Something inside her was urging her to fly at his throat and +tear the foul words from it. Yet there was something gripping her, +something compelling her to a calmness she was powerless to resist. + +Then, as swiftly as he had blazed into fury, had come a miraculous +change in the man. Perhaps it was the effect of her calm, perhaps it +was something in the man himself. Anyway the madness abruptly died out +of his eyes and left him shaking. He strove to speak, but no words +came. He passed his hand across his forehead as though to remove +something that was clouding his brain. He turned from her fixed stare +as though he could no longer support it. He moved across the room. He +hesitated. He turned to her. She did not see the movement, for her +back was now turned, but somehow she felt it. + +Then she heard his footsteps again, and, finally, the rattle of the +door handle as he clutched it. After that came his voice. All the +anger, the jealousy, had gone out of it. It was low, gentle, +imploring. But she did not move. + +"Mercy, Mercy! For--forgive me. I----" + +"Never!" + +Oh, the scorn, the hatred she had flung into the word! + +The next she remembered was that he passed swiftly and silently from +the room. Then, then at last her woman's weakness, a weakness she now +so cordially despised, overcame her, and she fell into a chair and +wept. + +But her weakness was short-lived. Her spirit rose in rebellion, and +her tears ceased to flow as the cruel iron entered her soul. She +pondered long and deeply, and presently she went on with her +preparations for Charles Stanmore's supper as though nothing unusual +had occurred. + +Nor, when he came home, did she tell him, nor did she ever by word or +act permit the secret of that interview to pass out of her keeping. +But the memory of it was forever with her. Day and night she hugged it +to herself, she nursed it, and fostered it for all those twenty years, +the bitterness, the cruel injustice of the insult, grinding its way +till it became a part of the very essence of her being. + +Suddenly a cry broke in upon her reverie. She started, and her eyes +lit with a gleam of satisfaction. Her mind had returned to the +present, and she called out-- + +"Joan!" + +Without waiting for an answer she left her seat, and, crossing swiftly +to the door, flung it wide open. + +Joan staggered in, and, dropping into the welcoming arms of a +rocking-chair, she buried her face in her hands. + +Mercy Lascelles stood silently contemplating the bowed head. There was +no sympathy in her attitude. Her heart was cold and hard as steel. But +she was interested in the cause rather than the effect. + +After a while the storm of grief slackened. The racking sobs came at +longer intervals. Then it was that Mercy Lascelles broke the silence. + +"Well?" she demanded sharply. + +The tear-stained face was slowly lifted, and the sight of the girl's +distress was heart-breaking. + +"He is dead," Joan said in a choking voice. Then, with something like +resentment--"Are--are you satisfied?" + +Mercy went back to her chair and her beloved crystal. And after a +moment she began to speak in a low, even tone, as though reciting a +well-learnt lesson. + +"It was at the crossing of 36th Street and Lisson Avenue, here the +street cars cross, here some also turn off. It was the fault of his +horse. The creature shied at a heavy truck. Two cars were approaching +from east and west. The shying horse slipped on the granite paving, +fell, and was caught between the two meeting cars before they could +pull up. The horse was killed on the spot, and--the rider was----" + +"Don't, auntie! Don't say it! Yes, yes, he was taken to the hospital, +and died of his injuries. But don't speak of his terrible mutilations. +I--I can't bear it." + +Again Joan buried her face in her hands as though to shut out the +horror of it all. But the elder woman had no such scruples. + +"Why harrow yourself with the picture?" she demanded brusquely. +"Imagination can add nothing to the fact. Tears will not change one +detail. They will only add to your distress. Dick Sorley left your +side to go to certain death. Nothing could have averted that. Such was +his fate--through you." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE PARIAH + + +Joan suddenly threw up her head. There was resentment in the violet +depths of her eyes, and her whole expression had hardened. It was as +though something of her youth, her softness, had passed from her. + +"You must tell me, auntie," she demanded in a tone as cold as the +other's. "I--I don't understand. But I mean to. You accuse me with the +responsibility of--this. Of responsibility for all that has happened +to those others. You tell me I am cursed. It is all too much--or too +little. Now I demand to know that which you know--all that there is to +know. It is my right. I never knew my father or mother, and you have +told me little enough of them. Well, I insist that you shall tell me +the right by which you dare to say such things to me. I know you are +cruel, that you have no sympathy for any one but--yourself. I know +that you grudge the world every moment of happiness that life +contains. Well, all this I try to account for by crediting you with +having passed through troubles of which I have no knowledge. But it +does not give you the right to charge me with the things you do. You +shall tell me now the reason of your accusations, or I will leave this +home forever, and will never, of my own free will, set eyes on you +again." + +Mercy's thin lips parted into a half-smile. + +"And I intend that you shall know these things," she replied promptly. +"You shall know them from my lips. Nor has any one more right to the +telling than I." The smile died abruptly, leaving her burning eyes +shining in an icy setting. "I am cruel, eh?" she went on intensely. +"Cruel because I have refused to bend beneath the injustice of my +fellows and the persecutions of Fate. Cruel because I meet the world +in the spirit in which it has received me. Why should I have sympathy? +The world has robbed me of the only happiness I ever desired. What +obligation, then, is mine? You are right. I have no sympathy for any +living creature--none!" + +Joan offered no comment. She was waiting--waiting for the explanation +she had demanded. She was no longer the young girl just returned +flushed with the healthy glow of her morning ride. Life had taken on a +fresh tone for her since then. It seemed as if years had suddenly +passed over her head and carried her into the middle of life. + +"You shall have your explanation," Mercy went on after a moment's +pause. "I will give it you from the beginning. I will show you how it +comes that you are a pariah, shedding disaster upon all men who come +under your influence." + +"A pariah!" + +Joan's eyes suddenly lit with horror at the loathsome epithet. + +"Yes. Pariah!" There was no mistaking the satisfaction which the use +of the word seemed to give the other woman. In her eyes was a +challenge which defied all protest. + +As Joan had no further comment she went on-- + +"But they were all blind--blind to the curse under which you were +born--under which you live. You shall have your wish. You shall know +the right which I have for charging these things at your door. And the +knowledge of it will forever shatter the last castle of your +day-dreams." + +Something of awe took hold of the listening girl. Something of terror, +too. What was the mystery into which she was blindly delving? Knowing +her aunt as she did, she felt, by her manner, that her words were the +prelude to disclosures that meant disaster to herself. And as the +other proceeded her half-frightened eyes watched her, fascinated by +the deliberateness of manner and the passionate sincerity underlying +every word of the story she told. + +"Listen," she said, checking her voice to a low, even monotone. "You +are the child of disaster if ever woman was. Your father was a poor, +weak fool, a big, handsome, good-hearted fool whom Nature had endowed +with nothing more than a perfect exterior. He was a Wall Street man, +of a sort. One of those gamblers who live on the fringe of the big +financial circles, and most of whom gather their livelihood from the +crumbs falling from the rich man's table, but are ready to steal them +when the fall is not sufficient to fill their hungry mouths. For three +years he and I were engaged to be married." + +She paused, and her hot eyes dropped to the crystal in her lap. Then +she went on, with harsh sarcasm breaking the level of her tone-- + +"For three years we waited for the coming of that trifling luck which +would enable us to marry. For three years I worked silently, joyfully, +to fill the wonderful bottom drawer which never failed to inspire me +with courage and hope. You see I--loved your father." + +Again she paused, and Joan forgot something of her own trouble as she +noted the evident pain these memories gave to her aunt. + +"The luck came. It was small enough. But with the little money I had +it was just sufficient. The license was procured. The wedding was +fixed. And I--well, God was good, the world was good, and life was a +joy beyond all dreams. You see I, too, was young then. My only +relative was a younger sister. She was a beautiful girl with red-gold +hair. And she was in business in California. I sent for her to come to +the wedding." + +Joan gave a tense sigh. She knew what was to follow. The red-gold hair +told its own story. Mercy Lascelles raised a pair of stony eyes, and +her thin lips were smiling. + +"I can see you understand," she said, without emotion. "Yes, she came, +and she stole your father from me. Oh, yes! she was handsome enough to +steal any man. She was even more beautiful than you are. It was just +before we were to be married. Less than a week. A good time to steal +him from me--after three years of waiting." She laughed bitterly. "She +stole him, and I--I cursed her. Oh, I didn't cry out! I simply cursed +her, I cursed her offspring, and burned every garment I had made or +bought for the wedding in my parlor stove. I sat by and watched the +fire as it hungrily devoured each record of my foolish day-dreams. And +as each one vanished in cinder and smoke I cursed her from the very +bottom of my heart." + +The woman laughed again, and Joan could not repress a shudder at the +sound. + +"Twelve months she had of him. And during those twelve months both he +and she nearly drove me mad in their efforts to make me marry your +father's great friend and fellow gambler. His name doesn't matter. He +was a brown-haired creature, who was, if possible, a greater gambler +than your father. But unlike your father his luck was phenomenal. He +grew rich whilst Charles Stanmore, with every passing week, grew +poorer. And for twelve long months he persecuted me with his +attentions. He never left me alone. I sometimes think he was crazy in +his desire to marry me. He knew the whole of my wretched story, yet it +made no difference. He swore to me in his mildly deliberate way that I +should marry him. Perhaps I ought to have read the real character of +the man underlying his gentle manner, but, poor fool that I was, I +didn't. It was left to later events to open my eyes, events which were +to teach me that under the guise of friendship he hated Charles +Stanmore, because--because, in spite of everything, I still loved him. + +"At the end of those twelve months my cup of bitterness was filled to +overflowing. You were born. You, with your deep-blue eyes and red-gold +hair. You, Charles Stanmore's child--but not mine." + +Her voice died out, and Joan understood something of the passion in +this strange woman's soul. But the next moment a hard laugh jarred her +nerves. It was a laugh that had no mirth. Only was it an audible +expression designed to disguise real feelings. + +"Oh, I had no grudge against you. You--you with your crumpled face and +big blue eyes. You could make no difference to my life as I saw it. +And yet you did." The woman's fingers suddenly clutched the crystal in +her lap with a force that left the thin tips of them white and +bloodless. "You did. A difference that in my maddest dreams I could +never have hoped for. You brought with you the curse of disaster from +which there was no escape for those to whom you belonged. + +"I can see it all now," she went on exultingly. "I can see it as I saw +it then, every detail of it. Your father's gambling had brought him +down to something like want. A week before you were born his home was +sold up, and he and your mother took shelter in a tiny three-roomed +apartment for which they had no money to pay the rent. In desperation +he came to _me_--to _me_ for help. And I gave it him. The day before +you were born I gave him the money for the expenses of your birth and +to tide him over for three months. It was almost all I had in the +world." Again came that mirthless laugh. Then she hurried on. "But the +temptation was too much for Charles Stanmore, gambler that he was. He +suddenly found himself with money in his pocket and hope in his +foolish soul. There was a big wheat operation going on at the moment, +and every penny of the money, along with all the credit he could +procure, he plunged into it." + +"And lost it all?" Joan whispered. + +The other shook her head. + +"No. The influence of your strange fate was at work. On the day that +you saw light Charles Stanmore was a comparatively rich man. And your +mother--was dead." + +Joan breathed a deep sigh. + +"Yes, wheat went up by leaps and bounds, and your father was delirious +with joy. He stood over you--I can see him now--and talked at you in +his foolish, extravagant way. 'You're the brightest, happiest, +luckiest little hoodlam that ever came into the world,' he cried. 'And +your name is "Golden," my little Golden Woman, for if ever there was +a golden kiddie in the world you are she. Gold? Why, you've showered +it on me. Luck? Why, I verily believe if you'd been around you'd +have brought luck to Jonah when he got mixed up with the whale's +internals.' And then, just as he finished, the bolt fell. The doctor +came in from the next room and took him aside. Your mother was dead." + +A sob broke from the listening girl, a great sob of sympathy for the +kindly, weak, irresponsible father she had never known. + +"Your father's disaster looked like my blessing. I had no regrets for +the woman," Mercy went on. "He was mine now by every right. The thief +had come by her reckoning. So I seized the opportunity that was thrust +in my way. Mine was the right to care for him and help him in his +trouble, nor have I shame in saying that I took it. + +"But the curse of your life was working full and sure. But for your +existence I should never have taken that step. But for that step other +matters would never have occurred. When your father's--friend +discovered what I had done his fury knew no bounds. His insults were +unforgettable--at least by me. But I persisted. For a great hope was +at work within me that now your mother was gone eventually Charles +Stanmore might come back to his allegiance, and I might step into her +place. It was a foolish hope, but--I loved your father. + +"Bah!" she went on impatiently. "It is no use raking amongst those +ashes. The details don't matter to you. Those things are dead. And +only is their effect alive to-day. My hopes were never to be +fulfilled. How should they be with the curse of your father's golden +girl involving us all in disaster. Let me cut the wretched history as +short as I can. At first money was plentiful enough, and luck in that +direction seemed to border on the marvelous. To give you an instance +your father--imbecile that he was--swore he would test it in your own +interests. He hunted round till he found the most hair-brained, +wildcat company ever floated for the purpose of robbing moneyed fools, +and invested ten thousand dollars in it as a life-dowry for you. It +was the joke of all his gambling friends. It was like pitching dollar +bills into the Hudson. And then in a month the miraculous happened. +After a struggle the company boomed, and you were left with a +competence for life. Yes, at first money was plentiful enough, but +your father never got over his shock of your mother's death. Sometimes +I used to think his brain was weakening. Anyway, he plunged into a +wild vortex of gambling. He drank heavily, and indulged himself in +excesses from which he had always kept clear up to that time. He took +to cards in a manner that frightened even me, used as I was to his +weaknesses. And in all these things his friend encouraged and indulged +him. + +"The end was not far off. How could it be? Your father's luck waned +and his debauches increased. He grew nervous and worried. But he +persisted in his mode of life. Then, in a little while, I knew that he +was borrowing. He never touched your money. But he was borrowing +heavily. This man whom I had come to regard as his evil genius +undoubtedly lent him money--much money. Then came a particularly bad +time. For two days Charles Stanmore went about like a madman. What the +trouble was I never knew--except that it was a question of money. And +this terminated in the night of disaster toward which everything had +been driving." + +Mercy Lascelles' voice dropped to a low, ominous pitch, and she paused +as though to draw all the threads of memory into one firm grasp. Her +look, too, changed. But it was a change quite unnoticed by Joan. + +"It was one night in the apartment. I had gone to bed. They, your +father and his--friend, were in the parlor. They had quarreled during +the evening over some money affairs which I did not understand. Your +father was headstrong, as he always was, and the other, well, he +rarely raised his voice--he was one of those quiet men who disguise +their purposes under a calm atmosphere--as a rule. However, on this +occasion high words had passed, and I knew that stormy feelings were +underlying the calm which finally ensued. At last, when they sat down +to a heavy game of baccarat, I crept away to bed. + +"I don't know how long I had been in bed when it happened. I know I +was asleep, for I wakened suddenly with a great sense of shock, and +sat up trying to realize what had happened. It took me some moments. I +know my mind ran over a dozen things before I decided what to do. I +remembered that we were alone in the place. The servants had been +dismissed more than a week before. There was only you, and your +father, and me in the place. Then I remembered that his friend was +there, and I had left them playing cards. Instantly I got out of bed. +I slipped on a dressing-gown and crept out into the passage. I moved +silently toward the door of the sitting-room. It was wide open. I had +left it shut. The gas was full on. I reached the door and cautiously +peered in. But there was no need for caution. Your father had fallen +forward in his chair, and lay with his head, face downward, upon the +table. He was dead and--the other had gone. I ran to the dead man's +side and raised him up. It was too late. All--all I had or cared for +in the world had been taken from me by the hand of the murderer." + +"Murdered?" Joan whispered in horrified tones. + +"Yes, murdered!" came the swift, vehement retort. "Shot--shot through +the heart, and in the stomach--and his murderer had fled. Oh, God, +shall I ever forget that moment!" + +The woman fell back in her chair, her whole withered body shaking with +emotion. Then with an effort she pulled herself together and went on +more calmly-- + +"I hardly know what I did. All I remember is that I gave the alarm, +and presently had the police there. I told them all I could, and gave +the name and description of--the man who had done the deed. But it was +useless. He had gone--bolted. Nor was he ever seen or heard of again. +The curse had worked out. You, your father's golden girl, were left +orphaned to the care of the woman to whom your very existence was an +ineradicable wrong, and who, through your coming, had been robbed of +all that made life possible." + +She raised her crystal and held it poised on the gathered finger-tips +of one hand. And when she spoke again her voice had gained strength +and tone. + +"Since those days I have learnt to read the words that are written by +the hand of Fate. And here--here is the open book. It is all here. The +storm of disaster that brought you into the world will dog your +footsteps. You are cursed with the luck that leads to disaster. +Wherever you go men will bless your name, and, almost in the same +breath, their blessings shall turn to the direst curses. It is not I +who am speaking. My tongue utters the words, but the writing of Fate +has been set forth for me to interpret. Wherever you go, wherever you +be, you cannot escape the destiny set out for you. I tell you you are +a leper, a pariah, whom all men, for their own safeguarding, must +shun." + +All through the final pronouncement Joan sat transfixed with horror. A +leper! A pariah! Nor, in the light of those things which to her own +knowledge had happened, could she doubt the hideous denunciation. She +had heard and understood that ill-luck could and did pursue its +victims. But this! Oh, it was too terrible--too cruel! For an instant +she thought of the doctor and his words of warning. But one glance at +the bowed figure, again intent upon her crystal, and the thought +passed. The story she had listened to was too real, too full of those +things which had driven her poor aunt to her present unyielding +attitude toward the world to be the ravings of an insane mind. And +suddenly panic gripped her, that panic which, in a moment of weakness, +so easily tends toward self-destruction. + +"Is--is there no hope, auntie?" she asked helplessly. + +Mercy Lascelles looked up from the crystal. She eyed her niece +steadily, as though to read all there was hidden behind the desperate +blue eyes. + +Slowly she shook her head. + +Again came that spasm of panic, and Joan seemed to hurl her whole +young strength into denial. + +"But there is. There must be," she cried, with a fierceness that held +the other in something like astonishment. "There must be," she +reiterated desperately. "No God could be so cruel--so--so wicked. +What have I done to deserve this? The injustice is demoniacal. Far +better go and throw myself before a passing train than live to carry +such a pestilence with me wherever I go through life. If you can read +these things--read on. Read on and tell me, for I swear that I will +not live with this curse forever tied about my neck." + +"You will live--you must live. It is written here." Mercy pointed at +the crystal. Then she laughed her cold, mirthless laugh. "There was +one power that served me, that helped me to save my reason through all +those early days. God knows how it may help you--for I can't see. I +loved your father with a passion nothing, no disaster could destroy. I +loved him so that I could crush every other feeling down, subservient +to my passion. Go you, child, and find such a love. Go you and find a +love so strong that no disaster can kill it. And maybe life may still +have some compensations for you, maybe it will lift the curse from +your suffering shoulders. It--it is the only thing in the world that +is stronger than disaster. It is the only thing in the world that is +stronger than--death." + +Joan had no answer. She stared straight ahead of her, focusing some +trifling detail of the pattern on the wall paper. Her face was +stony--stony as the face of the woman who was watching her. The +moments passed rapidly. A minute passed, and neither spoke. + +Then at last the girl abruptly rose from her seat. Almost mechanically +she moved over to a mirror, and, removing her hat, deftly patted her +beautiful hair till it assumed its wonted appearance. And quite +suddenly she turned about. + +"I have nearly fifty thousand dollars, auntie. I am going to realize +that capital. I am going to leave this house--I am going to leave it +forever. I shall change my name, and cover up my tracks, for I intend +going where I am not known. I am going where men cannot figure in my +life, which I intend to begin all over again. The burden Fate has +imposed upon me is too great. I am going to run from it." + +She laughed. And her laugh was as mirthless as her aunt's had been. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TWO MEN OF THE WILDERNESS + + +The westering sun was drooping heavily toward its fiery couch. The +purple of evening was deepening from the east, meeting and blending +softly with the gold of the dying day. A great furnace of ruddy cloud +rose above the mountain-tops, lighting the eternal snows of the peaks +and ancient glaciers with a wealth of kaleidoscopic color. Viewed from +the plains below there might have been a great fire raging among the +hill-caps, where only snow and ice could provide the fuel. + +The radiant colors of sunset held the quiet eyes of a solitary +horseman riding amidst the broken lands of the lesser foot-hills. He +was a big man, of powerful shoulders and stout limbs. He was a man of +fifty or thereabouts, yet his hair was snow white, a perfect mane that +reached low upon his neck, touching the soft collar of his cotton +shirt. His face was calm with something of the peace of the world +through which he was riding, something of the peace which comes to +those who have abandoned forever the strife of the busy life beyond. +It only needed the garb of the priest, and his appearance would have +matched perfectly his sobriquet, "the Padre." + +But Moreton Kenyon was clad in the rough moleskin, the riding boots +and general make-up of the western life to which he belonged. Even he +carried the protecting firearms by which to administer the personal +laws of the wilderness. His whole appearance, the very horse under +him, a prairie-bred broncho of excellent blood, suggested a man who +knew the life amidst which he lived, and was more than capable of +surviving it. + +Whatever his appearance, whatever his capacity for the rougher corners +of earth, Moreton Kenyon was a man of great kindliness, of great +sympathy, as the mission from which he was now returning might well +have testified. Those who knew him best held him in deep affection. +Those who knew him less withheld their judgment, but never failed to +treat him with a courtesy not usual amongst the derelicts of an +out-world camp. + +Just now something of the smallness of human life, of human aims and +efforts, of human emotions, was occupying the busy brain behind his +reflective eyes. The scene before him, upon which he had so often +looked, never failed to remind him of the greatness of that which lay +beyond the ken of man. Somehow it exalted his thoughts to planes to +which no association with his kind could ever have exalted them. It +never failed to inspire him with a reverence for the infinity of power +which crowned the glory of creation, and reduced self to a humble +realization of its atomic place in the great scheme of the Creator. + +His horse ambled easily over the ribbon-like trail, which seemed to +rise out of the eastern horizon from nowhere, and lose itself +somewhere ahead, amidst the dark masses of forest-crowned hills. The +journey was nearly over. Somewhere ahead lay the stable, which could +be reached at leisure in the cool of the evening, and neither master +nor beast seemed to feel the need for undue haste. + +As the light slowly faded out and left the snow-white hill-crests drab +with the gray of twilight, the man's mind reverted to those things +which had sent him on his journey. Many doubts had assailed him by the +way, doubts which set him debating with himself, but which rarely made +him turn from a purpose his mind was once set upon. He knew that his +action involved more than his own personal welfare, and herein had +lain the source of his doubt. But he had clearly argued every point +with himself, and through it all had felt the rightness of his +purpose. + +Then, too, he had had the support of that other with whom he was +concerned. And he smiled as he thought of the night when his decision +had been taken. Even now the picture remained in his mind of the eager +face of his youthful protege as they discussed the matter. The younger +man had urged vehemently, protesting at every objection, that they two +had no right to live in comparative comfort with women and children +starving about them. + +He remembered young Buck's eager eyes, large dark-brown eyes that +could light with sudden, almost volcanic heat, or smile their soft, +lazy smile of amusement at the quaintnesses of life about him. The +Padre understood the largeness of heart, the courage which urged him, +the singleness of purpose which was always his. Then, when their +decision had been taken, he remembered the abrupt falling back of the +man into the quiet, almost monosyllabic manner which usually belonged +to him. + +Yes, Buck was a good lad. + +The thought carried him back to days long gone by, to a time when a +lad of something less than eight years, clad in the stained and worn +garb of a prairie juvenile, his feet torn and bleeding, his large +brown eyes staring out of gaunt, hungry sockets, his thin, pinched, +sunburnt face drawn by the ravages of starvation, had cheerfully +hailed him from beneath the shelter of a trail-side bush. + +That was nearly twenty years ago, but every detail of the meeting was +still fresh in his memory. His horse had shied at the sudden +challenge. He remembered he had thrashed the creature with his spurs. +And promptly had come the youthful protest. + +"Say, you needn't to lick him, mister," the boy piped in his thin +treble. "Guess he'll stand if you talk to him." + +Strangely enough the man had almost unconsciously obeyed the mandate. +And the memory of it made him smile now. Then had followed a dialogue, +which even now had power to stir every sympathy of his heart. He +started by casually questioning the starving apparition. + +"Where you from, sonny?" he asked. + +And with that unequivocal directness, which, after twenty years, still +remained with him, the boy flung out a thin arm in the direction of +the eastern horizon. + +"Back ther', mister." + +The natural sequence was to ask him whither he was bound, and his +answer came with a similar gesture with his other hand westward. + +"Yonder." + +"But--but who're your folks? Where are they?" the Padre had next +hazarded. And a world of desolation was contained in the lad's +half-tearful reply-- + +"Guess I ain't got none. Pop an' ma's dead. Our farm was burnt right +out. Y' see there was a prairie fire. It was at night, an' we was +abed. Pop got me out, an' went back for ma. I never see him agin. I +never see ma. An' ther' wa'an't no farm left. Guess they're sure +dead." + +He fought the tears back manfully, in a way that set the Padre +marveling at his courage. + +After a moment he continued his interrogation. + +"What's your name?" he asked. + +"Buck," came the frank response. + +"Buck--what?" + +"Buck--jest plain, mister." + +"But your father's name--what was that?" + +"Pop." + +"Yes, yes. That's what you called him. What did the folks call him?" + +"Ther' wa'an't no folks. Jest pop, an' ma, an' me." + +A great lump had risen in the man's throat as he looked down into +those honest, hungry eyes. And for a moment he was at a loss. But the +boy solved his dilemma in a way that proved the man in after-life. + +"Say, you ain't a farmer?" he inquired, with a speculative glance over +his general outfit. + +"Well, I am--in a small way," the Padre had replied, with a +half-smile. + +The boy brightened at once. + +"Then mebbe you can give me a job--I'm lookin' for a job." + +The wonder of it all brought a great smile of sympathy to the +man's eyes now, as he thought of that little starving lad of eight +years old, homeless, wandering amidst the vastness of all that +world--looking for a "job." It was stupendous, and he had sat +marveling until the lad brought him back to the business in hand. + +"Y' see I kin milk--an'--an' do chores around. Guess I can't plough +yet. Pop allus said I was too little. But mebbe I kin grow--later. +I--I don't want no wages--on'y food. Guess I'm kind o' hungry, +mister." + +Nor, for a moment, could the man make any reply. The pathos of it all +held him in its grip. He leant over and groped in his saddle-bag for +the "hardtack" biscuits he always carried, and passed the lad a +handful. + +He remembered how the boy snatched the rough food from his hands. +There was something almost animal in the way he crammed his mouth +full, and nearly choked himself in his efforts to appease the craving +of his small, empty stomach. In those moments the man's mind was made +up. He watched in silence while the biscuit vanished. Then he carried +out his purpose. + +"You can have a job," he said. "I've only a small farm, but you can +come and help me with it." + +"Do you mean that, mister?" the boy asked, almost incredulously. + +Then, as the Padre had nodded, a sigh of thankfulness escaped the +young lips, which were still covered with the crumbs of his recent +meal. + +"Say, I'm glad. Y' see I was gettin' tired. An' ther' didn't seem to +be no farms around--nor nuthin'. An' it's lonesome, too, at nights, +lyin' around." + +The man's heart ached. He could stand no more of it. + +"How long have you been sleeping--out?" + +"Three nights, mister." + +Suddenly the Padre reached out a hand. + +"Here, catch hold, and jump." + +The boy caught the strong hand, and was promptly swung up into the +saddle behind his benefactor. The next moment they were speeding back +over the trail to the lad's new home. Nor was the new-born hope solely +beating in the starving child's heart. The lonely farmer felt that +somehow the day was brighter, and the green earth more beautiful--for +that meeting. + +Such had been the coming together of these two, and through all the +long years of weary toil since then they still remained together, +working shoulder to shoulder in a relationship that soon became +something like that of father and son. The Padre remained the +farmer--in a small way. But the boy--well, as had been prophesied by +his dead father, later on he grew big enough to plough the furrows of +life with a strong and sure hand. + +The man's reflections were broken into abruptly. The time and distance +had passed more rapidly than he was aware of. The eager animal under +him raised its head, and, pricking its small ears and pulling heavily +on the reins, increased its pace to a gallop. Then it was that the +Padre became suddenly aware that the home stretch had been reached, +and before him lay a long, straight decline in the trail which split a +dense pine-wood bluff of considerable extent. + + * * * * * + +A man was lounging astride of a fallen pine log. His lean shoulders +were propped against the parent stump. All about him were other stumps +left by those who had made the clearing in the woods. Beyond this the +shadowy deep of the woods ranged on every side, except where the red +sand of a trail broke the monotony of tone. + +Near by two horses stood tethered together by a leading rein. One was +a saddle-horse, and the other was equipped with a well-loaded +pack-saddle. It was no mean burden of provisions. The carcass of a +large, black-tailed deer sprawled across the back of the saddle, while +on one side were secured three bags of flour, and on the other +several jack-rabbits were strung together. But the powerful beast +remained unconcernedly nibbling at the sparse green peeping here and +there through the carpet of rotting pine cones and needles which +covered the ground. + +The man's eyes were half-closed, yet he was by no means drowsing. On +the contrary, his mind was essentially busy, and the occasional +puckering of his dark brows, and the tightening of his strong jaws, +suggested that his thoughts were not always pleasant. + +After a while he sat up. But his movement was only the restlessness +caused by the worry of his thought. And the gaze he turned upon his +foraging horses was quite preoccupied. + +A change, however, was not long in coming. Simultaneously both horses +threw up their heads, and one of them gave a sharp, comprehensive +snort. Instantly the man's large brown eyes lit, and a pleasant +expectancy shone in their depths. He was on his feet in an instant, +and his tall figure became alert and vibrant with the lithe activity +which was so wonderfully displayed in his whole poise. He, too, had +become aware of a disturbing element in the silent depths of the +woods. + +He moved across to the trail, and, glancing down it, from out of the +silence reached him the distant, soft plod of hoofs in its heavy +covering of sand. His look of satisfaction deepened as he turned back +to his horses and tightened the cinchas of the saddles, and replaced +the bits in their mouths. Then he picked up the Winchester rifle +propped against a tree stump and turned again to the trail. + +A moment later another horseman appeared from beyond the fringe of +pines and drew up with an exclamation. + +"Why, Buck, I didn't reckon to find you around here!" he cried +cordially. + +"No." The young man smiled quietly up into the horseman's face. The +welcome of his look was unmistakable. No words of his could have +expressed it better. + +The Padre sprang from his saddle with the lightness of a man of half +his years, and his eyes rested on the pack-saddle on Buck's second +horse. + +"For the--folks?" he inquired. + +"Guess so. That's the last of the flour." + +For a moment a shadow passed across the Padre's face. Then it as +suddenly brightened. + +"How's things?" he demanded, in the stereotyped fashion of men who +greet when matters of importance must be discussed between them. + +"So," responded Buck. + +The Padre glanced quickly round, and his eyes fell on the log which +had provided the other with a seat. + +"Guess there's no hurry. Let's sit," he said, indicating the log. "I'm +a bit saddle weary." + +Buck nodded. + +They left the horses to their own devices, and moved across to the +log. + +"Quite a piece to Leeson Butte," observed Buck casually, as he dropped +upon the log beside his friend. + +"It surely is," replied the Padre, taking the young man in with a +quick, sidelong glance. + +Buck was good to look at, so strong, so calmly reliant. Every glance +of his big brown eyes suggested latent power. He was not strikingly +handsome, but the pronounced nose, the level, wide brows, the firm +mouth and clean-shaven chin, lifted him far out of the common. He was +clad simply. But his dress was perfectly suitable to the life of the +farmer-hunter which was his. His white moleskin trousers were tucked +into the tops of his Wellington boots, and a cartridge belt, from +which hung a revolver and holster, was slung about his waist. His +upper covering was a simple, gray flannel shirt, gaping wide open +across his sunburnt chest, and his modest-hued silk handkerchief tied +loosely about his neck. + +"Leeson Butte's getting quite a city," Buck went on presently. + +"That's so," replied the Padre, still bent upon his own thoughts. + +After that it was quite a minute before either spoke. Yet there seemed +to be no awkwardness. + +Finally it was the Padre who broached the matters that lay between +them. + +"I got ten thousand dollars for it!" he said. + +"The farm?" Buck's interrogation was purely mechanical. He knew well +enough that the other had purposely gone to Leeson Butte to sell the +farm on which they had both lived so long. + +The Padre nodded. + +"A fancy price," he said. "The lawyers closed quick. It was a woman +bought it. I didn't see her, though she was stopping at the hotel. I +figured on getting seven thousand five hundred dollars, and only asked +ten thousand dollars as a start. Guess the woman must have wanted it +bad. Maybe she's heard they're prospecting gold around. Well, anyway +she ought to get some luck with it, she's made it easy for us to help +the folks." + +Buck's eyes were steadily fixed on the horses. + +"It makes me feel bad seeing those fellers chasin' gold, and never a +color to show--an' all the while their womenfolk an' kiddies that thin +for food you can most see their shadows through 'em." + +The eyes of the elder man brightened. The other's words had helped to +hearten him. He had felt keenly the parting with his farm after all +those years of labor and association. Yet, to a mind such as his, it +had been impossible to do otherwise. How could he stand by watching a +small community, such as he was surrounded with, however misguided in +their search for gold, painfully and doggedly starving before his very +eyes? For the men perhaps his sympathy might have been less keen, but +the poor, long-suffering women and the helpless children--the thought +was too painful. No, he and Buck had but their two selves to think of. +They had powerful hands with which to help themselves. Those others +were helpless--the women and children. + +There was compensation in his sacrifice when he remembered the large +orders for edible stores he had placed with the merchants of Leeson +Butte before leaving that town. + +"There's a heap of food coming along for them presently," he said +after a pause. + +Buck nodded. + +"I've been settin' that old fur fort to rights, way up in the hills +back ther'," he said, pointing vaguely behind them. "Guess we'd best +move up ther' now the farm's--sold. We'll need a few bits of furniture +from the farm. That right--now you've sold it?" + +"Yes. I made that arrangement. She didn't seem to mind anything I +suggested. She must be a bully sort of woman. I'm sorry I didn't see +her. The lawyer says she comes from St. Ellis." + +"Young?" suggested Buck. + +The Padre shook his head. + +"I wouldn't say so. A young woman with money wouldn't be likely to +hide herself in these hills." + +"That's so. Guess it's the gold fetching her--the gold that isn't +here." + +"Gold's a cursed thing," said the Padre reflectively. + +"Yet none of 'em seem to shy at the curse." Buck smiled in his slow +way. + +"No. Not without experiencing it." The Padre's eyes were still +serious. Then he went on, "We shan't farm any up there--at the fur +fort?" + +Buck shook his head. + +"It means clearing every inch of land we need. Guess we best hunt, as +we said. We'll make out with pelts. There's the whole mountains for +traps." + +The other stared over at the horses, and his face was very grave. +After a while he turned directly to his companion, and his eyes were +mildly anxious. + +"See here, Buck," he said, with what seemed unnecessary emphasis. +"I've thought a heap on the way back--home. It seems to me I'm not +acting square by you. And I've made up my mind." He paused. Buck did +not change his position, and his eyes were carefully avoiding those of +his companion. Then the Padre went on with a decision that somehow +lacked confidence. "You must take half the money, and--and get busy +your own way. We've done farming, so there's no reason for you to hang +around here. You're a man now, and you've your way to make in the +world. You see, when we had the farm I thought it was good for you. +It would be yours when I died, and then who knows, in time, how +valuable it might become? Now it's all different. You see the hills +are best for me." He smiled strainedly. "They've always been good +friends to me. But----" + +"Yes, you don't fancy leavin' the hills." Buck's eyes wore a curious +expression. They were half-smiling, half-angry. But the other could +not see them. The Padre jumped eagerly at his words. + +"Just so. I've known them so long now that there doesn't seem to be +any other world for me. Even Leeson Butte makes me feel--er--strange." + +Buck nodded. Then he changed the subject. + +"Say, we don't sleep at the farm to-night," he said. "The blankets are +up at the old fort. That's why I got around here. When's she comin' +along?" + +"In two or three days." The Padre had no choice but to follow the +younger man's lead. "She's sending along a farm woman first. She's +going to run the place herself." + +"Ther's no man comin'?" Buck half turned to his friend. + +"I don't think so." + +"They can't do it--hereabouts," Buck retorted quickly. "That farm +needs a man." + +"Yes." + +Buck rose abruptly and went over to the horses. + +"Going?" inquired the Padre. + +"I'll get along with the vittles, and hand 'em over to the boys. Guess +I'll git back to the fort in a few hours." + +The Padre sat hesitating. He watched the movements of his companion +without observing them. + +"Buck!" + +The other paused as he was about to put his foot into the stirrup. He +glanced over his shoulder. + +"Yes?" + +"About that money. There's five thousand of it yours." + +"Not on your life, Padre!" + +The elder man sighed as he stood up, and his look changed so that it +almost seemed as if a weight had been lifted from his mind. Their eyes +met as Buck swung himself into the saddle. + +"Then we're going to the hills--together?" he said smilingly. + +"Sure," responded Buck promptly. Then he added, "But we're goin' to +hunt--not farm." + +His decisive manner left no room for doubt, and the Padre, moving over +to him, held out his hand. They gripped till the elder man winced. + +"I'm glad I found you on the trail that time," he said, looking +squarely into the steady brown eyes. "I've always been glad, but--I'm +gladder still now." + +"Me, too," said Buck, with a light laugh. "Guess I'd have hated to ha' +fed the coyotes." + +Buck swung round to the trail, leading his packhorse, and the Padre +went back to his horse. Just as he was about to mount the younger +man's voice reached him again. He paused. + +"Say, what's the woman's name?" Buck inquired. + +"Eh?" The Padre looked startled. "The woman that bought the farm?" + +"Yes--sure." + +The elder man's face flushed painfully. It was a curious sight. He +looked as stupidly guilty as any schoolboy. + +"I--I can't say. I never asked." He felt absurdly foolish and tried to +explain. "You see, I only dealt with the lawyer." + +Buck shook his head, and smiled in his slow fashion. + +"Sold the farm, an' don't know who to! Gee!" + +It was good to hear his laugh as he rode away. The Padre watched him +till he was out of sight. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE STEEPS OF LIFE + + +Buck leant over his horse's withers as the laboring creature clawed +tenaciously up the face of the rugged hill. His whole poise was that +of sympathetic straining. Nor were his eyes a whit less eager than +those of the faithful animal under him. + +He was making the last twenty yards of the climb up Devil's Hill from +the side on which lay the new home adopted by the Padre and himself. +Hitherto this point of approach had been accepted as inaccessible for +a horseman, nor, until now, had Buck seen reason to dispute the +verdict. But, to-day, a sudden impulse had constrained him to make the +attempt, not from any vainglorious reason, or from the recklessness +which was so much a part of his nature, but simply that somewhere high +up on the great table-land at the summit of the hill he hoped to find +an answer to a riddle that was sorely puzzling him. + +It had been a great struggle even on the lower and more gradual +slopes, for the basaltic rocks were barren, and broken, and slippery. +There was no gripping soil, or natural foothold. Just the weather-worn +rocks which offered no grip to Caesar's metal-shod hoofs. Yet the +generous-hearted beast had floundered on up to the last stretch, where +the hill rose abruptly at a perilous angle. + +It was a terrible scramble. As he looked above, at the point where the +sky-line was cut by the broken rocks, even the reckless heart of the +man quailed. Yet there was no turning back. To do so meant certain +disaster. No horse, however sure-footed, could ever hope to make the +descent by the way they had come. Buck had looked back just for one +brief second, but his eyes had instantly turned again for relief to +the heights above. Disaster lay behind him. To go on--well, if he +failed to reach the brow of the blackened hill it would mean disaster +anyway. And a smile of utter recklessness slowly lit his face. + +So, with set jaws and straining body, he urged Caesar to a last supreme +effort, and the great black creature responded gallantly. With head +low to the ground, his muscles standing out like ropes upon his +shoulders, his forelegs bent like grappling-hooks, his quarters tucked +beneath him, he put his giant heart into the work. Step by step, inch +by inch he gained, yawing and sliding, stumbling and floundering, +making way where all way seemed impossible. Slowly they crept up, +slowly, slowly they neared that coveted line. Buck was breathing hard. +Caesar was blowing and had thrown his mouth agape, a sign that beyond +this he could make no further effort. Five yards--two yards. The +jagged line seemed to come down to meet them. At last, with a final +spring, the great horse trampled it under foot. + +Buck heaved a sigh of relief. + +"Gee!" he murmured. Then with the wide, black plain stretching before +him, its limits lost in a strange mist, he flung out of the saddle. + +He stared about him curiously. Devil's Hill was in no way new to him. +Many a time he had visited its mysterious regions, but always had he +approached it from the prospecting camp, or his own farm, both of +which lay away on the northern side of it. + +A wide plateau, nearly two miles in extent, stretched out before him. +It was as flat as the proverbial board, with just one isolated rock +towering upon its bosom. This was the chief object of interest now. +Away in the distance he beheld its ghostly outline, almost lost in the +ruddy atmosphere which, just now, seemed to envelop the whole of that +Western world. + +It was a desolate scene. So desolate as to carry a strange sense of +depression to the heart of the horseman. There was not a tree in +sight--nor a single blade of grass. There was nothing but the funereal +black of basaltic rock, of which the hill seemed to be one solid mass. +Such was its desolation that even the horse seemed to be drooping at +the sight of it. It was always the same with Buck. There was an +influence about the place which always left him feeling rather +hopeless. He knew the old Indian stories of superstition. He knew the +awe in which the more ignorant among the white folk held this hill. +But these things left him unaffected. He only regarded it from his own +personal observations, which were not very enlivening. + +Apart from the fact that not one atom of vegetation would grow either +upon the surface or slopes of Devil's Hill, no snows in winter had +ever been known to settle upon its uninviting bosom. Long before the +snow touched its surface, however low the temperature of the +atmosphere, however severe a blizzard might be raging--and the Montana +blizzards are notorious for their severity--the snow was turned to +water, and a deluge of rain hissed upon its surface. + +Then, too, there was that mystery rock in the distance of the great +plateau. It was one of Nature's little enigmas with which she loves to +puzzle the mind of man. How came it there, shot up in the midst of +that wide, flat stretch of rock? It stood within a few hundred yards +of the eastern brink of the hill which, in its turn, was another +mystery. The eastern extremity was not a mere precipice, it was a vast +overhang which left Yellow Creek, upon whose banks the mining camps +were pitched, flowing beneath the roof of a giant tunnel supported by +a single side. + +The rock on the plateau reared its misshapen head to the heavens at a +height of something over two hundred feet, and its great base formed a +vast cavern out of which, fanwise, spread a lake of steaming water, +which flowed on to the very brink of the hill where it overshadowed +the creek below. Thus it was, more than half the lake was held +suspended in mid-air, with no other support than the parent hill from +which its bed projected. It was an awesome freak of nature, calculated +to astonish even eyes that were accustomed to the sight of it. + +But Buck was not thinking of these things now. He was looking at the +view. He was looking at the sky. He was looking from this great height +for an explanation of the curious, ruddy light in the sunless sky, the +teeming haze which weighted down the brain, and, with the slightest +movement, opened the pores of the skin and set the perspiration +streaming. + +In all his years of the Montana hills he had never experienced such a +curious atmospheric condition. Less than an hour ago he had left the +Padre at the fur fort under a blazing summer sky, with the crisp +mountain air whipping in his nostrils. Then, quite of a sudden, had +come this change. There were no storm-clouds, and yet storm was in +every breath of the superheated air he took. There was no wind, nor +anything definite to alarm except this sudden blind heat and the +purple hue which seemed to have spread itself over the whole world. +Thus it was, as he neared the mysterious mountain, he had made up his +mind to its ascent in the hope of finding, there upon the unwholesome +plateau, the key to the atmospheric mystery. + +But none seemed to be forthcoming, so, turning at last to the patient +Caesar, he once more returned to the saddle and rode on to the barren +shores of Devil's Lake. + +The lake was a desolate spot. The waters stretched out before him, +still, and silent, and black. There was not even a ripple upon its +steaming surface. Here the haze hung as it always hung, and the cavern +was belching forth deep mists, like the breathing of some prehistoric +monster. He glanced up at the birdless rock above, and into the broken +outlines of it he read the distorted features of some baleful, living +creature, or some savage idol. But there was no answer here to the +questions of his mind, any more than there had been on the rest of the +plateau, so he rode on along the edge of the water. + +He reached the extreme end of the lake and paused again. He could go +no farther, for nothing but a rocky parapet, less than twenty feet +wide, barred the waters from tumbling headlong to the depths below. + +After a moment Caesar grew restless, his equine nerves seemed to be on +a jangle, and the steadying hand of his master had no effect. His eyes +were wistful and dilated, and he glanced distrustfully from side to +side, snorting loudly his evident alarm. Buck moved him away from his +proximity to the water, and turned to a critical survey of the remoter +crests of the Rocky Mountains. + +The white snowcaps had gone. The purple of the lesser hills, usually +so delicate in their gradings, were lost in one monotony of dull red +light. The nearer distance was a mere world of ghostly shadows tinged +with the same threatening hue, and only the immediate neighborhood was +in any way clean cut and sharp to the eye. His brows drew together in +perplexity. Again, down there in the valley, beyond the brink of the +plateau, the dull red fog prevailed, and yet through it he could see +the dim picture of grass-land, of woods, of river, and the rising +slopes of more hills beyond. + +No, the secret of the atmospheric phenomenon was not up here, and it +was useless to waste more time. So he moved off, much to his impatient +horse's relief, in a direction where he knew a gentle slope would lead +him from the hilltop to the neighborhood of the old farm and the ford +across Yellow Creek. + +But even this way the road required negotiation, for the same bald +rocks and barrenness offered no sure foothold. However, Caesar was used +to this path, and made no mistakes. His master gave him his head, and, +with eyes to the ground, the sure-footed beast moved along with almost +cat-like certainty. At last the soft soil of the valley was reached +again, and once more the deepening woods swallowed them up. + +The end of Buck's journey lay across Yellow Creek, where a few +miserable hovels sheltered a small community of starving gold-seekers, +and thither he now hastened. On his way he had a distant view of the +old farm. He would have preferred to have avoided it, but that was +quite impossible. He had not yet got over the parting from it, which +had taken place the previous day. To him had fallen the lot of handing +it over to the farm-wife who had been sent on ahead from Leeson Butte +to prepare it for her employer's coming. And the full sense of his +loss was still upon him. Wrong as he knew himself to be, he resented +the newcomer's presence in his old home, and could not help regarding +her as something in the nature of a usurper. + +The camp to which he was riding was a wretched enough place. Nor could +Nature, here in her most luxuriant mood, relieve it from its sordid +aspect. A few of the huts were sheltered at the fringe of the dark +woods, but most were set out upon the foreground of grass, which +fronted the little stream. + +As Buck approached he could not help feeling that they were the most +deplorable huts ever built. They were like a number of inverted square +boxes, with roofs sloping from front to back. They were made out of +rough logs cut from the pine woods, roofed in with an ill-laid thatch +of mud and grass, supported on the lesser limbs cut from the trees +felled to supply the logs. How could such despairing hovels ever be +expected to shelter men marked out for success? There was disaster, +even tragedy, in every line of them. They were scarcely even shelters +from the elements. With their broken mud plaster, their doorless +entrances, their ill-laid thatch, they were surely little better than +sieves. + +Then their surroundings of garbage, their remnants of coarse garments +hanging out upon adjacent bushes, their lack of every outward sign of +industrial prosperity. No, to Buck's sympathetic eyes, there was +tragedy written in every detail of the place. + +Were not these people a small band of regular tramp gold-seekers? What +was their outlook? What was their perspective? The tramp gold-seeker +is a creature apart from the rest of the laboring world. He is not an +ordinary worker seeking livelihood in a regular return from his daily +effort. He works under the influence of a craze that is little less +than disease. He could never content himself with stereotyped +employment. + +Besides, the rot of degradation soon seizes upon his moral nature. No +matter what his origin, what his upbringing, his education, his +pursuit of gold seems to have a deadening effect upon all his finer +instincts, and reduces him swiftly to little better than the original +animal. Civilization is forgotten, buried deep beneath a mire of +moral mud, accumulated in long years, and often in months only of +association with the derelicts and "hard cases" of the world. Rarely +enough, when Fortune's pendulum swings toward one more favored +individual, a flickering desire to return to gentler paths will +momentarily stir amidst the mire, but it seldom amounts to more than +something in the nature of a drunkard's dream in moments of sobriety, +and passes just as swiftly. The lustful animal appetite is too +powerful; it demands the sordid pleasures which the possession of gold +makes possible. Nor will it be satisfied with anything else. A tramp +gold-seeker is irreclaimable. His joy lies in his quest and the dreams +of fortune which are all too rarely fulfilled Every nerve centre is +drugged with his lust, and, like all decadents, he must fulfil the +destiny which his own original weakness has marked out for him. + +Buck understood something of all this without reasoning it out in +his simple mind. He understood with a heart as reckless as their own, +but with a brain that had long since gathered strength from the +gentle wisdom of the man who was a sort of foster-father to him. He +did not pity. He felt he had no right to pity, but he had a deep +sympathy and love for the strongly human motives which stirred these +people. Success or failure, he saw them as men and women whose many +contradictory qualities made them intensely lovable and sometimes even +objects for respect, if for nothing else, at least for their very +hardihood and courage. + +He rode up to the largest hut, which stood beyond the shadow of a +group of pine-trees, and dropped out of the saddle. With careful +forethought he loosened the cinchas of Caesar's saddle and removed the +bit from his mouth. Then, with one last look at the purpling heavens, +he pushed aside the tattered blanket which hung across the doorway and +strode into the dimly-lit apartment. + +It was a silent greeting that welcomed him. His own "Howdy" met with +no verbal response. But every eye of the men lying about on blankets +outspread upon the dusty floor was turned in his direction. + +The scene was strange enough, but for Buck it had nothing new. The +gaunt faces and tattered clothing had long since ceased to drive him +to despairing protest. He knew, in their own phraseology, they were +"up against it"--the "it" in this case meaning the hideous spectre of +starvation. He glanced over the faces and counted seven of them. He +knew them all. But, drawing forward an upturned soap-box, he sat down +and addressed himself to Curly Saunders, who happened to be lying on +his elbow nearest the door. + +"Say, I just came along to give you word that vittles are on the way +from Leeson Butte," he said, as though the fact was of no serious +importance. + +Curly, a short, thick-set man of enormous strength and round, youngish +face, eased himself into a half-sitting position. But before he could +answer another man, with iron-gray hair, sat up alertly and eyed their +visitor without much friendliness. + +"More o' the Padre's charity?" he said, in a manner that suggested +resentment at the benefit he had no intention of refusing. Curiously +enough, too, his careless method of expression in no way disguised the +natural refinement of his voice. + +Buck shook his head, and his eyes were cold. + +"Don't guess there's need of charity among friends, Beasley." + +Beasley Melford laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. + +"Guess it makes him feel good dopin' out stuff to us same as if we was +bums," he said harshly. + +"Shut up!" cried a voice from a remote corner. Buck looked over and +saw a lean, dark man hugging his knees and smoking a well-burnt briar +pipe. The same voice went on: "Guess you'd sicken most anybody, +Beasley. You got a mean mind. Guess the Padre's a hell of a bully +feller." + +"He sure is," said Montana Ike, lolling over on to his side and +pushing his canvas kit-bag into a more comfortable position. "You was +sayin' there was vittles comin' along, Buck? Guess ther' ain't no +'chawin'' now?" + +"Tobacco, sure," responded Buck with a smile. + +One by one the men sat up on their frowsy blankets. The thought of +provisions seemed to have roused them from their lethargy. Buck's eyes +wandered over the faces peering at him out of the murky shadows. The +squalor of the hut was painful, and, with the knowledge that help was +at hand, the sight struck him even more forcibly. + +"Quit work?" he asked a moment later, in his abrupt fashion. + +Somebody laughed. + +Buck looked round for an answer. And again his eyes caught the steely, +ironical gleam in the man Beasley's. + +"The last o' Slaney's kids 'passed in' last night. Guess we're goin' +to bury her." + +Buck nodded. He had no words. But he carefully avoided looking in the +direction of Slaney Dick, who sat in a far corner smoking his pipe and +hugging his great knees. + +Beasley went on in the same half-mocking tone-- + +"Guess it's up to me to read the service over her." + +"You!" + +Buck could not help the ejaculation. Beasley Melford was an unfrocked +Churchman. Nor was it known the reason of his dismissal from his +calling. All Buck knew was that Beasley was a man of particularly low +morals and detestable nature. The thought that he was to administer +the last rites of the Church over the dead body of a pure and innocent +infant set his every feeling in active protest. He turned to Slaney. + +"The Padre buried the others?" he said questioningly. + +It was Dick's partner, Abe Allinson, who took it upon himself to +answer. + +"Y' see the Padre's done a heap. Slaney's missis didn't guess we'd +orter worrit him. That's how she said." + +Buck suddenly swung round on Beasley. + +"Fix it for to-morrow, an' the Padre'll be right along." + +He looked the ex-Churchman squarely in the eye. He was not making a +request. His words were an emphatic refusal to allow the other the +office. It was Slaney who answered him. + +"I'm glad," he said. Then, as an afterthought, "an' the missis'll be +glad, too." + +After that nobody seemed inclined to break the silence. Nor was it +until somebody hawked and spat that the spell was broken. + +"We bin holdin' a meetin'," said Curly Saunders heavily. "Y' see, it +ain't no good." + +Buck nodded at the doorway. + +"You mean----?" + +"The prospect," Beasley broke in and laughed. "Say, we sure been +suckers stayin' around so long. Ther' ain't no gold within a hundred +miles of us. We're just lyin' rottin' around like--stinkin' sheep." + +Curly nodded. + +"Sure. That's why we held a meeting. We're goin' to up stakes an' +git." + +"Where to?" + +Buck's quick inquiry met with a significant silence, which Montana Ike +finally broke. + +"See here," he cried, with sudden force. "What's the use in astin' +fool questions? Ther' ain't no gold, ther' ain't nuthin'. We got color +fer scratchin' when we first gathered around like skippin' lambs, but +ther's nuthin' under the surface, an' the surface is played right +out. I tell you it's a cursed hole. Jest look around. Look at yonder +Devil's Hill. Wher'd you ever see the like? That's it. Devil's Hill. +Say, it's a devil's region, an' everything to it belongs to the devil. +Ther' ain't nuthin' fer us--nuthin', but to die of starvin'. Ah, +psha'! It's a lousy world. Gawd, when I think o' the wimminfolk it +makes my liver heave. Say, some of them pore kiddies ain't had milk +fer weeks, an' we only ke'p 'em alive thro' youse two fellers. Say," +he went on, in a sudden burst of passion, "we got a right, same as +other folk, to live, an' our kids has, an' our wimmin too. Mebbe we +ain't same as other folks, them folks with their kerridges an' things +in cities, mebbe our kiddies ain't got no names by the Chu'ch, an' our +wimmin ain't no Chu'ch writin' fer sharin' our blankets, but we got a +right to live, cos we're made to live. An' by Gee! I'm goin' to live! +I tell youse folk right here, ther's cattle, an' ther's horses, an' +ther's grain in this dogone land, an' I'm goin' to git what I need of +'em ef I'm gettin' it at the end of a gun! That's me, fellers, an' +them as has the notion had best foller my trail." + +The hungry eyes of the man shone in the dusk of the room. The harsh +lines of his weak face were desperate. Every word he said he meant, +and his whole protest was the just complaint of a man willing enough +to accept the battle as it came, but determined to save life itself by +any means to his hand. + +It was Beasley who caught at the suggestion. + +"You've grit, Ike, an' guess I'm with you at any game like that." + +Buck waited for the others. He had no wish to persuade them to any +definite course. He had come there with definite instructions from the +Padre, and in his own time he would carry them out. + +A youngster, who had hitherto taken no part in the talk, suddenly +lifted a pair of heavy eyes from the torn pages of a five-cent novel. + +"Wal!" he cried abruptly. "Wot's the use o' gassin'? Let's light right +out. That's how we sed 'fore you come along, Buck." He paused, and a +sly grin slowly spread over his features. Then, lowering his voice to +a persuasive note, he went on, "Here, fellers, mebbe ther' ain't +more'n cents among us. Wal, I'd sure say we best pool 'em, an' I'll +set right out over to Bay Creek an' git whisky. I'll make it in four +hours. Then we'll hev jest one hell of a time to-night, an' up stakes +in the morning, fer--fer any old place out o' here. How's that?" + +"Guess our few cents don't matter, anyways," agreed Curly, his dull +eyes brightening. "I'd say the Kid's right. I ain't lapped a sup o' +rye in months." + +"It ain't bad fer Soapy," agreed Beasley. "Wot say, boys?" + +He glanced round for approval and found it in every eye except +Slaney's. The bereaved father seemed utterly indifferent to anything +except his own thoughts, which were of the little waxen face he had +watched grow paler and paler in his arms only yesterday morning, until +he had laid the poor little dead body in his weeping woman's lap. + +Buck felt the time had come for him to interpose. He turned on Beasley +with unmistakable coldness. + +"Guess the Padre got the rest of his farm money yesterday--when the +woman came along," he said. "An' the vittles he ordered are on the +trail. I'd say you don't need to light out--yet." + +Beasley laughed offensively. + +"Still on the charity racket?" he sneered. + +Buck's eyes lit with sudden anger. + +"You don't need to touch the vittles," he cried. "You haven't any +woman, and no kiddies. Guess there's nothing to keep you from getting +right out." + +He eyed the man steadily, and then turned slowly to the others. + +"Here, boys, the Padre says the food and canned truck'll be along +to-morrow morning. And you can divide it between you accordin' to your +needs. If you want to get out it'll help you on the road. And he'll +hand each man a fifty-dollar bill, which'll make things easier. If you +want to stop around, and give the hill another chance, why the fifty +each will make a grub stake." + +The proposition was received in absolute silence. Even Beasley had no +sneering comment. The Kid's eyes were widely watching Buck's dark +face. Slaney had removed his pipe, and, for the moment, his own +troubles were forgotten under a sudden thrill of hope. Curly Saunders +sat up as though about to speak, but no words came. Abe Allinson, +Ike, and Blue Grass Pete contented themselves with staring their +astonishment at the Padre's munificence. Finally Slaney hawked and +spat. + +"Seems to me," he said, in his quiet, drawling voice, "the Padre sold +his farm to help us out." + +"By Gee! that's so," exclaimed Curly, thumping a fist into the palm of +his other hand. + +The brightening eyes lit with hope. The whole atmosphere of the place +seemed to have lost something of its depression. + +Ike shook his head. + +"I'm gettin' out. But say, the Padre's a bully feller." + +Abe nodded. + +"Ike's right. Slaney an' me's gettin' out, too. Devil's Hill's a +cursed blank." + +"Me, too," broke in the Kid. "But say, wot about poolin' our cents for +whisky?" he went on, his young mind still intent upon the contemplated +orgie. + +It was Buck who helped the wavering men to their decision. He +understood them. He understood their needs. The ethics of the +proposition did not trouble him. These men had reached a point where +they needed a support such as only the fiery spirits their stomachs +craved could give them. The Padre's help would come afterward. At the +moment, after the long weeks of disappointment, they needed something +to lift them, even if it was only momentarily. He reached round to his +hip-pocket and pulled out two single-dollar bills and laid them on the +dusty ground in front of him. + +"Ante up, boys," he said cheerfully. "Empty your dips. The Kid's +right. An' to-morrow you can sure choose what you're going to do." +Then he turned to the Kid. "My plug Caesar's outside. Guess you best +take him. He'll make the journey in two hours. An' you'll need to +bustle him some, because ther's a kind o' storm gettin' around right +smart. Eh?" He turned and glanced sharply at Beasley. "You got a +dollar?" + +"It's fer whisky," leered the ex-Churchman, as he laid the dirty paper +on the top of Buck's. + +In two minutes the pooling was completed and the Kid prepared to set +out. Eight dollars was all the meeting could muster--eight dollars +collected in small silver, which represented every cent these men +possessed in the world. Buck knew this. At least he could answer for +everybody except perhaps Beasley Melford. That wily individual he +believed was capable of anything. He was sure that he was capable of +accepting anything from anybody, while yet being in a position to more +than help himself. + +Buck went outside to see the Kid off, and some of the men had gathered +in the doorway. They watched the boy swing himself into the saddle, +and the desperate shadows had lightened on their hungry faces. The +buoyancy of their irresponsible natures was reasserting itself. That +bridge, which the Padre's promise had erected between their despair +and the realms of hope, however slight its structure, was sufficient +to lift them once more to the lighter mood so natural to them. + +So their tongues were loosened, and they offered their messenger +the jest from which they could seldom long refrain, the coarse, +deep-throated jest which sprang from sheer animal spirits rather than +any subtlety of wit. They forgot for the time that until Buck's coming +they had contemplated the burial of a comrade's only remaining +offspring. They forgot that the grieving father was still within the +hut, his great jaws clenched upon the mouthpiece of his pipe, his +hollow eyes still gazing straight in front of him. That was their way. +There was a slight ray of hope for them, a brief respite. There was +the thought, too, of eight dollars' worth of whisky, a just portion of +which was soon to be in each stomach. + +But Buck was not listening to them. He had almost forgotten the +messenger riding away on his treasured horse, so occupied was he by +the further change that had occurred in the look of the sky and in the +atmosphere of the valley. Presently he lifted one strong, brown hand +to his forehead and wiped the beads of perspiration from it. + +"Phew! What heat! Here," he cried, pointing at Devil's Hill, away to +his left, "what d'you make of that?" + +For a moment all eyes followed the direction of his outstretched arm. +And slowly there grew in them a look of awe such as rarely found place +in their feelings. + +The crown of the hill, the whole of the vast, black plateau was +enveloped in a dense gray fog. Above that hung a mighty, thunderous +pall of purple storm-cloud. Back, away into the mountains in billowy +rolls it extended, until the whole distance was lost in a blackness as +of night. + +It was Curly Saunders who broke the awed silence. + +"Jumpin' Mackinaw!" he cried. Then he looked after their departing +messenger. "Say, that feller oughtn't to've gone to Bay Creek. He'll +never make it." + +Beasley, whose feelings were less susceptible, and whose mind was set +on the promised orgie, sneered at the other's tone. + +"Skeered some, ain't you? Tcha'! It's jest wind----" + +But he never completed his sentence. At that instant the whole of the +heavens seemed to split and gape open. A shaft of light, extending +from horizon to horizon, paralyzed their vision. It was accompanied by +a crash of thunder that set their ear-drums well-nigh bursting. Both +lightning and the thunder lasted for what seemed interminable minutes +and left their senses dazed, and the earth rocking beneath their +feet. Again came the blinding light, and again the thunder crashed. +Then, in a moment, panic had set in, and the tattered blanket had +fallen behind the last man as a rush was made for the doubtful shelter +of the hut. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +OUT OF THE STORM + + +The challenge had gone forth. In those two vivid shafts of light, +in the deafening peals of thunder the war of elements had been +proclaimed, and these men of the wilderness understood something of +their danger. + +Thereafter, for some moments, a threatening silence reigned +everywhere. The birds, the insects even, all life seemed to crouch, +hushed and expectant. The valley might have been the valley of death, +so still, so dark, so threatening was the superheated atmosphere that +hung over it. + +The men within the shelter of the hut waited, and only Buck and Blue +Grass Pete stood near the blanket-covered doorway. There was little +enough confidence in the inefficient shelter of the hut, but it was +their natural retreat and so they accepted it. Then the moment of +tension passed, and Buck, glancing swiftly round the hut, seized a +hammer and hastily secured the covering of the doorway. + +"She'll be on us right smart," he observed to Pete, who assisted him +while the others looked on. + +"Yes," replied Pete resignedly. "Guess we're goin' to git it good." +There was not only resignation, but indifference in his tone. + +Buck glanced up at the roof, and the rest followed his gaze curiously. +He shook his head. + +"It's worse than----" + +But he did not finish what he had to say. A strange hissing broke from +the distance, like the sound of rushing water, and, with each passing +moment, it grew in volume until, out of the heart of it, a +deep-throated roar boomed over the hilltops. + +It was a great wind-storm leaping down from the everlasting snows of +the mountains, tearing its way through the lean branches of the +forest-tops, the wide-gaping valleys, and rushing up the hillsides +with a violence that tore limbs from the parent trunks and rooted out +trees that had withstood a thousand storms. It was the deep breath of +the storm fiend launched upon a defenseless earth, carrying wreck and +destruction whithersoever its blast was turned. + +"By Jing'!" + +It was Montana Ike who voiced the awe crowding every heart. + +But his exclamation brought the practical mind of Buck to +consideration of their needs. His eyes turned again to the roof, and +Pete voiced his thoughts. + +"She'll carry away like--like a kite when it hits us," he declared. +Several more pairs of eyes were turned helplessly upward. Suddenly +Buck swung round upon the doorway. + +"Here she comes," he cried. "Holy----!" + +With a rush and a deafening roar the wind hit the building and set it +rocking. Buck and Pete flung themselves with arms outspread against +the ballooning blanket, and it held. Again the wind crashed against +the sides of the hut. Some one flung himself to the two men's +assistance. Then came a ripping and tearing, and the thatch hissed +away on the breath of the storm like straw caught in a whirlwind. The +men gazed stupidly up at the blackened heavens, which were now like +night. There was nothing to be done. What could they do? They were +helpless. And not even a voice could make itself heard in the howling +of the wind as it shrieked about the angles of the building. + +Then came the rain. It fell in great drops whose sheer weight and size +carried them, at the moment of impact, through the ragged shirts to +the warm flesh beneath. In a second, it seemed, a waterspout was upon +them and was pouring its tide into the roofless hut. + +With the deluge, the elemental battle began in desperate earnest. Peal +after peal of thunder crashed directly overhead, and with it came such +a display of heavenly pyrotechnics that in their wildest moments these +men had never dreamed of. Their eyes were blinded, and their ear-drums +were bursting with the incessant hammering of the thunder. + +But the wind had passed on, shrieking and tearing its way into the dim +distance until its voice was utterly drowned in the sterner +detonations of the battle. + +Drenched to the skin, knee-deep in water, the men stood herded +together like sheep in a pen. Their blankets were awash and floated +about, tangling their legs in the miniature lake that could not find +rapid enough exit through the doorway. They could only stand there +stupidly. To go outside was to find no other shelter, and only the +more openly to expose themselves to the savage forks of lightning +playing across the heavens in such blinding streaks. Nor could they +help the women even if they needed help in the other huts. The roofs +and doors would or would not hold, and, in the latter case, until the +force of the storm abated no help could serve them. + +The storm showed no signs of abatement. The black sky was the sky of +an unlit night. There was no lightening in any direction, and the +blinding flashes amidst the din of thunder only helped to further +intensify the pitchy vault. The splitting of trees amidst the chaos +reached the straining ears, and it was plain that every flash of light +was finding a billet for its forked tongue in the adjacent forests. + +The time dragged on. How long or how short was the period of the storm +none of the men wondered or cared. The rapidity of the thunder +crashes, the swift successions of lightning entirely held them, and, +strong as they were, these things kept their nerves jumping. + +Once in the midst of it all a man suddenly cried out. His cry came +with a more than usually brilliant flash of purplish, steel-blue fire. +The intensity of it carried pain to the now supersensitive nerves of +his vision, and he turned and flung himself with his face buried upon +his arm against the dripping wall. It was Beasley Melford. He stood +there cowering, a dreadful terror shaking his every nerve. + +The others turned stupidly in his direction, but none had thought for +his suffering. Each was hard pressed to face the terror of it all +himself; each was wondering at what moment his own limits would be +reached. Buck alone showed no sign of the nervous tension. His deep +brown eyes watched the group about him, automatically blinking with +every flash of light, and with only the slightest possible start as +the thunder crashed into his ears. + +He was thinking, too--thinking hard of many things. The Padre was out +in the hills with gun and traps. Would he have anticipated the swift +rising storm and regained the shelter of the stout old fort? With the +boom of falling trees going on about them, with the fiery crackle of +the blazing light as it hit the topmost branches of the adjacent +forest, he wondered and hoped, and feared for the old man in the same +thought. + +Then there were those others. The women and children in the other +huts. How were they faring? But he remembered that the married +quarters were better built than this hut had been, and he drew comfort +from the thought. And what of the Kid, and of Caesar? + +More than two hours passed before any change came. The deafening peals +of thunder seemed as though they would never lessen in tone. The +night-like heavens seemed as though no sun could ever hope to +penetrate them again. And the streaming rain--was there ever such a +deluge since the old Biblical days! + +Buck understood now the nature of the storm. Probably twenty years +would elapse before another cloudburst would occur again, and the +thought set him speculating upon the effect this might have upon the +lake on Devil's Hill. What might not happen? And then the creek below! +He remembered that these huts of the gold-seekers were on the +low-lying banks of the creek. What if it flooded? He stirred uneasily, +and, turning to the doorway, opened a loose fold in the blanket and +peered out. + +He saw the creek in a sudden blaze of light, and in that momentary +brilliance he saw that the rushing water was rising rapidly. A grave +feeling of uneasiness stirred him and he turned back to his +companions. For once in his life he felt utterly helpless. + +Another hour passed. The atmospheric heat had passed, and the men +stood shivering in the water. The chill was biting into their very +bones, but still there was no respite. Twice more Buck turned anxious +eyes upon the creek. And each time his alarm increased as the blinding +light revealed the rapid rise of the water. He dared not voice his +fears yet. He understood the condition of mind prevailing. To warn his +companions would be to set them rushing to get their womenfolk out of +their shelters, and this must not be thought of--yet. + +He had just arrived at the conclusion that he would abide by his next +observation when the long-looked-for change began. It came as suddenly +as the rising of the storm itself. It came in a rapid lightening of +the sky overhead. From black to gray it turned almost in a second. A +dull, ominous, rolling world of gray rain-clouds. The thunder died +away and the blinding flashes came no more. It was as though the storm +had been governed by one all-powerful will and the word to "cease +fire" had been hurled across the heavens as the last discharge of +monstrous artillery had been fired. Then, with the lifting of the +darkness, the rain slackened too, and the deluge eased. + +Buck sighed his relief, and Curly Saunders, from near by, audibly +expressed his. + +"She's lettin' up," he growled. + +Pete caught at his words. + +"It sure is." + +Buck was about to speak, but his lips remained open and he stood +listening. + +What was that? + +Something was moving beyond the doorway. Something touched the +blanket as though seeking support. Then it slid down, its movement +visible in the bulging of the drenched cloth. This was followed by a +heavy, squelching flop. The body, whatever it was, had fallen into the +streaming water pouring from within the hut. Then came a long-drawn, +piteous moan that held the men gazing silently and stupidly at the +sagging blanket. + +It was while they stood thus that the rain ceased altogether, and the +great storm-clouds broke and began to disperse, and a watery sunbeam +lit the wreck of the passing storm. As its light poured in upon the +wretched interior a second moan, short and weak but distinctly +audible, reached the astounded ears of the men. There was a moment's +pause as it died out, then Buck's arm shot out, and, seizing the edge +of the blanket, he ripped it from its fastenings and let it fall to +the ground. Instantly every neck was set craning, and every eye was +alight with wonder, for there, half-resting upon the sill of the +doorway, and half-lying upon the ground with the water streaming +everywhere about her, lay the huddled, half-drowned figure of a young +woman. + +"It's--it's a--woman," cried Pete stupidly, unable to contain his +astonishment longer. + +"It sure is," murmured Curly, with equal brightness. + +But while they gave the company the benefit of their keenness of +perception Buck had dropped upon his knees and was bending over the +wretched victim of the storm. He raised her, and drew her tenderly +into his arms. + +"'Tain't one of ours," announced Ike over his shoulder. + +"No." Buck's monosyllable displayed no great interest in his remark. + +Amidst a dead silence Buck suddenly straightened up, with the +dripping figure clasped tightly in his strong arms. A great pity shone +in his eyes as he gazed down into the fair young face. It was the +first time in all his life he had held a woman in his arms, and the +sensation of it made him forget those others about him. + +Suddenly Ike's voice aroused him. + +"By Gar!" he cried. "Jest look at that red ha'r. Say, easy, boys, +we're treadin' it around in the mud." + +It was true. The great masses of the girl's red-gold hair had fallen +loose and were trailing in the water as Buck held her. It reached from +the man's shoulder, where her head was pillowed, and the heavy-footed +men were trampling the ends of it into the mud. Ike stooped and +rescued the sodden mass, and laid it gently across Buck's shoulders. + +For a moment the sun shone down upon the wondering group. The clouds +had broken completely, and were scattering in every direction as +though eager to escape observation after their recent shameful +display. No one seemed to think of moving out into the rapidly warming +open. They were content to gather about Buck's tall figure and gape +down at the beautiful face of the girl lying in his arms. + +It was Beasley Melford who first became practical. + +"She's alive, anyway," he said. "Sort o' stunned. Mebbe it's the +lightnin'." + +Pete turned, a withering glance upon his foxy face. + +"Lightnin' nuthin'," he cried scornfully. "If she'd bin hit she'd ha' +bin black an' dead. Why, she--she ain't even brown. She's white as +white." His voice became softer, and he was no longer addressing the +ex-Churchman. "Did y' ever see sech skin--so soft an' white? An' that +ha'r, my word! I'd gamble a dollar her eyes is blue--ef she'd jest +open 'em." + +He reached out a great dirty hand to touch the beautiful whiteness of +the girl's throat with a caressing movement, but instantly Buck's +voice, sharp and commanding, stayed his action. + +"Quit that!" he cried. "Ke'p your durned hands to yourself," he added, +with a strange hoarseness. + +Pete's eyes lit angrily. + +"Eh? What's amiss?" he demanded. "Guess I ain't no disease." + +Beasley chuckled across at him, and the sound of his mirth infuriated +Buck. He understood the laugh and the meaning underlying it. + +"Buck turned wet nurse," cried the ex-Churchman, as he beheld the +sudden flush on the youngster's face. + +"You can ke'p your durned talk," Buck cried. "You Beasley--and the lot +of you," he went on recklessly. "She's no ord'nary gal; she's--she's a +lady." + +Curly and Ike nodded agreement. + +But Beasley, whatever his fears of the storm, understood the men of +his world. Nor had he any fear of them, and Buck's threat only had the +effect of rousing the worst side of his nature, at all times very near +the surface. + +"Lady? Psha'! Write her down a woman, they're all the same, only +dressed different. Seems to me it's better they're all just women. An' +Pete's good enough for any woman, eh, Pete? She's just a nice, dandy +bit o' soft flesh an' blood, eh, Pete? Guess you like them sort, eh, +Pete?" + +The man's laugh was a hideous thing to listen to, but Pete was not +listening. Buck heard, and his dark face went ghastly pale, even +though his eyes were fixed on the beautiful face with its closed, +heavily-lashed eyes. Pete's attention was held by the delicate +contours of her perfect figure and the gaping, bedraggled white +shirt-waist, where the soft flesh of her fair bosom showed through, +and the delicate lace and ribbons of her undergarments were left in +full view. + +No one offered Beasley encouragement and his laugh fell flat. And when +Curly spoke it was to express something of the general thought. + +"Wonder how she came here?" he said thoughtfully. + +"Seems as though the storm had kind o' dumped her down," Abe Allinson +admitted. + +Again Beasley chuckled. + +"Say, was ther' ever such a miracle o' foolishness as you fellers? You +make me laff--or tired, or something. Wher'd she come from? Ain't the +Padre sold his farm?" he demanded, turning on Buck. "Ain't he sold it +to a woman? An' ain't he expectin' her along?" + +Buck withdrew his eyes from the beautiful face, and looked up in +answer to the challenge. + +"Why, yes," he said, his look suddenly hardening as he confronted +Beasley's face. "I had forgotten. This must surely be Miss--Miss Rest. +That's the name Mrs. Ransford, the old woman at the farm, said. Rest." +He repeated the name as though it were pleasant to his ears. + +"Course," cried Curly cheerfully. "That's who it is--sure." + +"Rest, eh? Miss--Rest," murmured the preoccupied Pete. Then he added, +half to himself, "My, but she's a dandy! Ain't--ain't she a pictur', +ain't she----?" + +Buck suddenly pushed him aside, and his action was probably rougher +than he knew. But for some reason he did not care. For some reason he +had no thought for any one but the fair creature lying in his arms. +His head was throbbing with a strange excitement, and he moved swiftly +toward the door, anxious to leave the inquisitive eyes of his +companions behind him. + +As he reached the door Beasley's hateful tones arrested him. + +"Say, you ain't takin' that pore thing up to the fort, are you?" he +jeered. + +Buck swung about with the swiftness of a panther. His eyes were ablaze +with a cold fire. + +"You rotten outlaw parson!" he cried. + +He waited for the insult to drive home. Then when he saw the fury in +the other's face, a fury he intended to stir, he went on-- + +"Another insinuation like that an' I'll shoot you like the dog you +are," he cried, and without waiting for an answer he turned to the +others. "Say, fellers," he went on, "I'm takin' this gal wher' she +belongs--down to the farm. I'm goin' to hand her over to the old woman +there. An' if I hear another filthy suggestion from this durned skunk +Beasley, what I said goes. It's not a threat. It's a promise, sure, +an' I don't ever forgit my promises." + +Beasley's face was livid, and he drew a sharp breath. + +"I don't know 'bout promises," he said fiercely. "But you won't find +me fergittin' much either." + +Buck turned to the door again and threw his retort over his shoulder. + +"Then you sure won't forgit I've told you what you are." + +"I sure won't." + +Nor did Buck fail to appreciate the venom the other flung into his +words. But he was reckless--always reckless. And he hurried through +the doorway and strode off with his still unconscious burden. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A SIMPLE MANHOOD + + +All thought of Beasley Melford quickly became lost in feelings of a +deeper and stronger nature as Buck passed out into the open. His was +not a nature to dwell unnecessarily upon the clashings of every-day +life. Such pinpricks were generally superficial, to be brushed aside +and treated without undue consideration until such time as some +resulting fester might gather and drastic action become necessary. The +fester had not yet gathered, therefore he set his quarrel aside for +the time when he could give it his undivided attention. + +As he strode away the world seemed very wide to Buck. So wide, indeed, +that he had no idea of its limits, nor any desire to seek them. He +preferred that his eyes should dwell only upon those things which +presented themselves before a plain, wholesome vision. He had no +desire to peer into the tainted recesses of any other life than that +which he had always known. And in his outlook was to be witnessed the +careful guidance of his friend, the Padre. Nor was his capacity +stunted thereby, nor his strong manhood. On the contrary, it left him +with a great reserve of power to fight his little battle of the +wilderness. + +Yet surely such a nature as his should have been dangerously open to +disaster. The guilelessness resulting from such a simplicity of life +ought surely to have fitted him for a headlong rush into the pitfalls +which are ever awaiting the unwary. This might have been so in a man +of less strength, less reckless purpose. Therein lay his greatest +safeguard. His was the strength, the courage, the resource of a mind +trained in the hard school of the battle for existence in the +wilderness, where, without subtlety, without fear, he walked over +whatever path life offered him, ready to meet every obstruction, every +disaster, with invincible courage. + +It was through this very attitude that his threat against Beasley +Melford was not to be treated lightly. His comrades understood it. +Beasley himself knew it. Buck had assured him that he would shoot him +down like a dog if he offended against the unwritten laws of +instinctive chivalry as he understood them, and he would do it without +any compunction or fear of consequences. + +A woman's fame to him was something too sacred to be lightly treated, +something quite above the mere consideration of life and death. The +latter was an ethical proposition which afforded him, where a high +principle was in the balance against it, no qualms whatsoever. It was +the inevitable result of his harsh training in the life that was his. +The hot, rich blood of strong manhood ran in his veins, but it was the +hot blood tempered with honesty and courage, and without one single +taint of meanness. + +As he passed down the river bank, beyond which the racing waters +flowed a veritable torrent, he saw the camp women moving about outside +their huts. He saw them wringing out their rain-drenched garments. +Thus he knew that the storm had served their miserable homes badly, +and he felt sorry for them. + +For the most part they were heavy, frowsy creatures, slatternly and +uncouth. They came generally from the dregs of frontier cities, or +were the sweepings of the open country, gleaned in the debauched +moments of the men who protected them. Nor, as his eyes wandered in +their direction, was it possible to help a comparison between them and +the burden of delicate womanhood he held in his arms, a comparison +which found them painfully wanting. + +He passed on under the bold scrutiny of those feminine eyes, but they +left him quite unconscious. His thoughts had drifted into a wonderful +dreamland of his own, a dreamland such as he had never visited before, +an unsuspected dreamland whose beauties could never again hold him as +they did now. + +The sparkling sunlight which had so swiftly followed in the wake of +the storm, lapping up the moisture of the drenching earth with its +fiery tongue, shed a radiance over the familiar landscape, so that it +revealed new and unsuspected beauties to his wondering eyes. How came +it that the world, his world, looked so fair? The distant hills, those +hills which had always thrilled his heart with the sombre note of +their magnificence, those hills which he had known since his earliest +childhood, with their black, awe-inspiring forests, they were somehow +different, so different. + +He traced the purple ridges step by step till they became a blurred, +gray monotony of tone fading away until it lost itself in the +glittering white of the snowcaps. Everything he beheld in a new light. +No longer did those hills represent the battle-ground where he and the +Padre fought out their meagre existence. They had suddenly become one +vast and beautiful garden where life became idyllic, where existence +changed to one long joy. The torrents had shrunk to gentle streams, +babbling their wonderful way through a fairy-land of scented gardens. +The old forceful tearing of a course through the granite hearts of the +hills was a thought of some long-forgotten age far back in the dim +recesses of memory. The gloom of the darkling forests, too, had passed +into the sunlit parks of delight. The rugged canyons had given place +to verdant valleys of succulent pasture. The very snows themselves, +those stupendous, changeless barriers, suggested nothing so much as +the white plains of perfect life. + +The old harsh lines of life had passed, and the sternness of the +endless battle had given way to an unaccountable joy. + +Every point that his delighted eyes dwelt upon was tinged with +something of the beatitude that stirred his senses. Every step he took +was something of an unreality. And every whispering sound in the +scented world through which he was passing found an echo of music in +his dreaming soul. + +Contact with the yielding burden lying so passive in his strong arms +filled him with a rapture such as he had never known. The thought of +sex was still far from his mind, and only was the manhood in him +yielding to the contact, and teaching him through the senses that +which his upbringing had sternly denied him. + +He gazed down upon the wonderful pale beauty of the girl's face. He +saw the rich parted lips between which shone the ivory of her perfect, +even teeth. The hair, so rich and flowing, dancing with glittering +beams of golden light, as, stirring beneath the breath of the +mountains, it caught the reflection of a perfect sun. + +How beautiful she was. How delicate. The wonderful, almost transparent +skin. He could trace the tangle of small blue veins like a fairy web +through which flowed the precious life that was hers. And her +eyes--those great, full, round pupils hidden beneath the veil of her +deeply-fringed lids! But he turned quickly from them, for he knew that +the moment she awoke his dream must pass into a memory. + +His gaze wandered to the swanlike roundness of her white throat, to +the gaping shirt-waist, where the delicate lace and tiny ribbon peeped +out at him. It was all so wonderful, so marvelous. And she was in his +arms--she, this beautiful stranger. Yet somehow she did not seem like +a stranger. To his inflamed fancy she seemed to have lain in his arms +all his life, all her life. No, she was no stranger. He felt that she +belonged to him, she was part of himself, his very life. + +Still she slept on. He suddenly found himself moving with greater +caution, and he knew he was dreading the moment when some foolish +stumble of his should bring her back to that life which he feared yet +longed to behold. He longed for the delight of watching the play of +emotions upon her lovely features, to hear her speak and laugh, and to +watch her smile. He feared, for he knew that with her waking those +delicious moments would be lost to him forever. + +So he dreamed on. In his inmost soul he knew he was dreaming, and, in +his reckless fashion, he desired the dream to remain unending. He saw +the old fur fort no longer the uncouth shelter of two lonely lives, +but a home made beautiful by a presence such as he had never dreamed +of, a presence that shed beauty upon all that came under the spell of +its influence. He pictured the warmth of delight which must be the +man's who lived in such an atmosphere. + +His muscles thrilled at the thought of what a man might do under such +an inspiration. To what might he not aspire? To what heights might he +not soar? Success must be his. No disaster could come-- + +The girl stirred in his arms. He distinctly felt the movement, and +looked down into her face with sudden apprehension. But his anxiety +was swiftly dispelled, and a tender smile at once replaced the look in +his dark eyes. No, she had not yet awakened, and so he was content. + +But the incident had brought him realization. His arms were stiff and +cramped, and he must rest them. Strong man that he was he had been +wholly unaware of the distance he had carried her. + +He gently laid her upon the grass and looked about him. Then it was +that wonder crept into his eyes. He was at the ford of the creek, more +than two miles from the camp, and on the hither bank, where the road +entered the water, a spring cart lay overturned and broken, with the +team of horses lying head down, buried beneath the turbulent waters as +they raced on down with the flood. + +Now he understood the full meaning of her presence in the camp. His +quick eyes took in every detail, and at once her coming was explained. +He turned back in the direction whence he had come, and his mind flew +to the distance of the ford from the camp. She had bravely faced a +struggle over two miles of a trail quite unknown to her when the worst +storm he had ever known was at its height. His eyes came back to the +face of the unconscious girl in even greater admiration. + +"Not only beautiful but----" + +He turned away to the wreck, for there were still things he wished to +know. And as he glanced about him he became more fully aware of the +havoc of the storm. Even in the brilliant sunshine the whole prospect +looked woefully jaded. Everywhere the signs told their pitiful tale. +All along the river bank the torn and shattered pines drooped +dismally. Even as he stood there great tree trunks and limbs of trees +were washed down on the flood before his eyes. The banks were still +pouring with the drainings of the hills and adding their quota to the +swelling torrent. + +But the overturned spring cart held most interest just now, and he +moved over to it. The vehicle was a complete wreck, so complete, +indeed, that he wondered how the girl had escaped without injury. Two +trunks lay near by, evidently thrown out by the force of the upset, +and it pleased him to think that they had been saved to their owner. +He examined them closely. Yes, the contents were probably untouched by +the water. But what was this? The initials on the lid were "J. S." The +girl's name was Rest. At least so Mrs. Ransford had stated. He +wondered. Then his wonder passed. These were very likely trunks +borrowed for the journey. He remembered that the Padre had a leather +grip with other initials than his own upon it. + +Where was the teamster? He looked out at the racing waters, and the +question answered itself. Then he turned quickly to the girl. Poor +soul, he thought, her coming to the farm had been one series of +disasters. So, with an added tenderness, he stooped and lifted her +gently in his arms and proceeded on his way. + +At last he came to the farm, which only that morning he had so eagerly +avoided. And his feelings were not at all unpleasant as he saw again +the familiar buildings. The rambling house he had known so long +inspired him with a fresh joy at the thought of its new occupant. He +remembered how it had grown from a log cabin, just such as the huts of +the gold-seekers, and how, with joy and pride, he and the Padre had +added to it and reconstructed as the years went by. He remembered the +time when he had planted the first wild cucumber, which afterward +became an annual function and never failed to cover the deep veranda +with each passing year. There, too, was the cabbage patch crowded with +a wealth of vegetables. And he remembered how careful he had been to +select a southern aspect for it. The small barns, the hog-pens, where +he could even now hear the grunting swine grumbling their hours away. +The corrals, two, across the creek, reached by a log bridge of their +own construction. Then, close by stood the nearly empty hay corrals, +waiting for this year's crop. No, the sight of these things had no +regrets for him now. It was a pleasant thought that it was all so +orderly and flourishing, since this girl was its future mistress. + +He reached the veranda before his approach was realized by the +farm-wife within. Then, as his footsteps resounded on the rough +surface of the flooring of split logs, Mrs. Ransford came bustling out +of the parlor door. + +"Sakes on me!" she cried, as she beheld the burden in her visitor's +arms. "If it ain't Miss Rest all dead an' done!" Her red hands went up +in the air with such a comical tragedy, and her big eyes performed +such a wide revolution in their fat, sunburnt setting that Buck +half-feared an utter collapse. So he hurriedly sought to reassure +her, and offered a smiling encouragement. + +"I allow she's mostly done, but I guess she's not dead," he said +quickly. + +The old woman heaved a tragic sigh. + +"My! but you made me turn right over, as the sayin' is. You should +ha' bin more careful, an' me with my heart too, an' all. The doctor +told me as I was never to have no shock to speak of. They might set +up hem--hemoritch or suthin' o' the heart, what might bring on +sing--sing--I know it was suthin' to do with singin', which means I'd +never live to see another storm like we just had, not if it sure come +on this minit----" + +"I'm real sorry, ma'm," said Buck, smiling quietly at the old woman's +volubility, but deliberately cutting it short. "I mean about the shock +racket. Y' see she needs fixin' right, an' I guess it's up to you to +git busy, while I go an' haul her trunks up from the creek." + +Again the woman's eyes opened and rolled. + +"What they doin' in the creek?" she demanded with sudden heat. "Who +put 'em ther'? Some scallawag, I'll gamble. An' you standin' by seein' +it done, as you might say. I never did see sech a place, nor sech +folk. To think o' that pore gal a-settin' watchin' her trunks bein' +pushed into the creek by a lot o' loafin' bums o' miners, an' no one +honest enough, nor man enough to raise a hand to--to----" + +"With respec', ma'm, you're talkin' a heap o' foolishness," cried Buck +impatiently, his anxiety for the girl overcoming his deference for the +other's sex. "If you'll show me the lady's room I'll carry her right +into it an' set her on her bed, an'----" + +"Mercy alive, what's the world a-comin' to!" cried the indignant +farm-wife. "Me let the likes o' you into the gal's bedroom! You? Guess +you need seein' to by the State, as the sayin' is. I never heard the +like of it. Never. An' she jest a slip of a young gal, too, an' all." + +But Buck's patience was quite exhausted, and, without a moment's +hesitation, he brushed the well-meaning but voluble woman aside and +carried the girl into the house. He needed no guidance here. He knew +which was the best bedroom and walked straight into it. There he laid +the girl upon an old chintz-covered settee, so that her wet clothes +might be removed before she was placed into the neat white bed waiting +for her. And the clacking tongue of Ma Ransford pursued his every +movement. + +"It's an insult," she cried angrily. "An insult to me an' mine, as you +might say. Me, who's raised two daughters an' one son, all of 'em +dead, more's the pity. First you drown the gal an' her baggage, an' +then you git carryin' her around, an' walkin' into her virgin bedroom +without no by your leave, nor nuthin'." + +But Buck quite ignored her protests. He felt it was useless to +explain. So he turned back and gave his final instructions from the +doorway. + +"You jest get her right to bed, ma'm, an' dose her," he said amiably. +"I'd guess you best give her hot flannels an' poultices an' things +while I go fetch her trunks. After that I'll send off to Bay Creek fer +the doctor. He ain't much, but he's better than the hoss doctor fer +womenfolk. Guess I'll git back right away." + +But the irate farm-wife, her round eyes blazing, slammed the door in +his face as she flung her final word after him. + +"You'll git back nuthin'," she cried furiously. "You let me git you +back here agin an' you'll sure find a sort o' first-class hell runnin' +around, an' you won't need no hot flannels nor poultices to ke'p you +from freezin' stone cold." + +Then, with perfect calmness and astonishing skill, she flung herself +to the task of caring for her mistress in that practical, feminine +fashion which, though he may appreciate, no man has ever yet quite +understood. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SECRET OF THE HILL + + +It was the morning following the great storm, a perfect day of +cloudless sunshine, and the Padre and Buck were on their way from the +fur fort to the camp. Their mission was to learn the decision of its +inhabitants as to their abandonment of the valley; and in the Padre's +pocket was a large amount of money for distribution. + +The elder man's spirits were quietly buoyant. Nor did there seem to be +much reason why they should be. But the Padre's moods, even to his +friends, were difficult to account for. Buck, on the contrary, seemed +lost in a reverie which held him closely, and even tended to make his +manner brusque. + +But his friend, in the midst of his own cheerful feelings, would not +allow this to disturb him. Besides, he was a far shrewder man than his +simple manner suggested. + +"It's well to be doing, lad," he said, after some considerable +silence. "Makes you feel good. Makes you feel life's worth a bigger +price than we mostly set it at." + +His quiet eyes took the other in in a quick, sidelong glance. He saw +that Buck was steadily, but unseeingly, contemplating the black slopes +of Devil's Hill, which now lay directly ahead. + +"Guess you aren't feeling so good, boy?" he went on after a moment's +thoughtful pause. + +The direct challenge brought a slow smile to Buck's face, and he +answered with surprising energy-- + +"Good? Why, I'm feelin' that good I don't guess even--even Beasley +could rile me this mornin'." + +The Padre nodded with a responsive smile. + +"And Beasley can generally manage to rile you." + +"Yes, he's got that way, surely," laughed Buck frankly. "Y' see +he's--he's pretty mean." + +"I s'pose he is," admitted the other. Then he turned his snow-white +head and glanced down at the lean flanks of Caesar as the horse walked +easily beside his mare. + +"And that boy, Kid, was out in all that storm on your Caesar," he went +on, changing the subject quickly from the man whom he knew bore him an +absurd animosity. "A pretty great horse, Caesar. He's looking none the +worse for fetching that whisky either. Guess the boys'll be getting +over their drunk by now. And it's probably done 'em a heap of good. +You did right to encourage 'em. Maybe there's folks would think +differently. But then they don't just understand, eh?" + +"No." + +Buck had once more returned to his reverie, and the Padre smiled. He +thought he understood. He had listened overnight to a full account of +the arrival of the new owner of their farm, and had gleaned some +details of her attractiveness and youth. He knew well enough how +surely the isolated mountain life Buck lived must have left him open +to strong impressions. + +They set their horses at a canter down the long declining trail which +ran straight into the valley above which Devil's Hill reared its ugly +head. And as they went the signs of the storm lay everywhere about +them. Their path was strewn with debris. The havoc was stupendous. +Tree trunks were lying about like scattered nine-pins. Riven trunks, +split like match-wood by the lightning, stood beside the trail, gaunt +and hopeless. Partially-severed limbs hung drooping, their weeping +foliage appealing to the stricken world about them for a sympathy +which none could give. Even the hard, sun-baked trail, hammered and +beaten to an iron consistency under a hundred suns of summer, was +scored with now dry water-courses nearly a foot deep. With all his +knowledge and long experience of the mountains even the Padre was +filled with awe at the memory of what he had witnessed. + +"Makes you think, Buck, doesn't it?" he said, pointing at a stately +forest giant stretched prone along the edge of the trail, its proud +head biting deeply into the earth, and its vast roots lifting twenty +and more feet into the air. "I was out in the worst of it, too," he +went on thoughtfully. Then he smiled at the recollection of his puny +affairs while the elements had waged their merciless war. "I was +taking a golden fox out of a trap, 'way back there on the side of the +third ridge. While I was doing it the first two crashes came. A +hundred and more yards away two pines, big fellers, guess they were +planted before the flood, were standing out solitary on a big rock +overhanging the valley below. They were there when I first bent over +the trap. When I stood up they were gone--rock and all. It made me +think then. Guess it makes me think more now." + +"It surely was a storm," agreed Buck absently. + +They reached the open valley, and here the signs were less, so, taking +advantage of the clearing, they set their horses at a fast gallop. +Their way took them skirting the great slope of the hill-base, and +every moment was bearing them on toward the old farm, for that way, +some distance beyond, lay the ford which they must cross to reach the +camp. + +Neither seemed inclined for further talk. Buck was looking straight +out ahead in the direction of the farm, and his preoccupation had +given place to a smile of anticipation. The Padre was intent upon the +black slopes of the hill. Farther along, the hill turned away toward +the creek, and the trail bore to the left, passing on the hither side +of a great bluff of woods which stretched right up to the very corrals +of the farm. It was here, too, where the overhang of the suspended +lake came into view, where Yellow Creek poured its swift, shallow +torrent in the shadowed twilight of the single-walled tunnel and the +gold-seekers held their operations in a vain quest of fortune. + +They had just come abreast of this point and the Padre was observing +the hill with that never-failing interest with which the scene always +filled him. He believed there was nothing like it in all the world, +and regarded it as a stupendous example of Nature's engineering. But +now, without warning, his interest leapt to a pitch of wonderment that +set his nerves thrilling and filled his thoughtful eyes with an +unaccustomed light of excitement. One arm shot out mechanically, +pointing at the black rocks, and a deep sigh escaped him. + +"Mackinaw!" he cried, pulling his horse almost on to its haunches. +"Look at that!" + +Buck swung round, while Caesar followed the mare's example so abruptly +that his master was almost flung out of the saddle. + +He, too, stared across in the direction indicated. And his whispered +exclamation was an echo of the other's astonishment. + +"By the----!" + +Then on the instant an almost unconscious movement, simultaneously +executed, set their horses racing across the open in the direction of +the suspended lake. + +The powerful Caesar, with his lighter burden, was the first to reach +the spot. He drew up more than two hundred yards from where the domed +roof forming the lake bed hung above the waters of the creek. He could +approach no nearer, and his rider sat gazing in wonder at the +spectacle of fallen rock and soil, and the shattered magnificence of +the acres of crushed and broken pine woods which lay before him. + +The whole face of the hill for hundreds and hundreds of feet along +this side had been ruthlessly rent from its place and flung broadcast +everywhere, and, in the chaos he beheld, Buck calculated that hundreds +of thousands of tons of the blackened rock and subsoil had been +dislodged by the tremendous fall. + +Just for an instant the word "washout" flashed through his mind. But +he dismissed it without further consideration. How could a washout +sever such rock? Even he doubted the possibility of lightning causing +such destruction. No, his thoughts flew to an earth disturbance of +some sort. But then, what of the lake? He gazed up at where the rocky +arch jutted out from the parent hill, and apprehension made him +involuntarily move his horse aside. But his observation had killed the +theory of an earth disturbance. Anything of that nature must have +brought the lake down. For the dislodgment began under its very +shadow, and had even further deepened the yawning cavern beneath its +bed. + +The Padre's voice finally broke his reflections, and its tone +suggested that he was far less awed, and, in consequence, his thoughts +were far more practical. + +"Their works are gone," he said regretfully. "I'd say there's not a +sluice-box nor a conduit left. Maybe even their tools are lost. Poor +devils!" + +The man's calm words had their effect. Buck at once responded to the +practical suggestion. + +"They don't leave their tools," he said. Then he pointed up at the +lake. "Say, what if that had come down? What if the bowels o' that +hill had opened up an' the water been turned loose? What o' the camp? +What o' the women an'--the kiddies?" + +His imagination had been stirred again. Again the Padre's practice +brought him back. + +"You don't need to worry that way, boy. It hasn't fallen. Guess the +earth don't fancy turning her secrets loose all at once." + +Buck sighed. + +"Yet I'd say the luck sure seems rotten enough." + +There was no answer, and presently the Padre pointed at the face of +the hill. + +"It was a washout," he said with quiet assurance. "See that face? It's +softish soil. Some sort of gravelly stuff that the water got at. Sort +of gravel seam in the heart of the rock." + +Buck followed the direction indicated and sat staring at it. Then +slowly a curious look of hope crept into his eyes. It was the fanciful +hope of the imaginative. + +"Here," he cried suddenly, "let's get a peek at it. Maybe--maybe the +luck ain't as bad as we think." And he laughed. + +"What d'you mean?" asked the Padre sharply. + +For answer he had to put up with a curt "Come on." And the next moment +he was following in Caesar's wake as he picked his way rapidly amongst +the trees skirting the side of the wreckage. Their way lay inland from +the creek, for Buck intended to reach the cliff face on the western +side of the fall. It was difficult going, but, at the distance, safe +enough. Not until they drew in toward the broken face of the hill +would the danger really begin. There it was obvious enough to anybody. +The cliff was dangerously overhanging at many points. Doubtless the +saturation which had caused the fall had left many of those great +projections sufficiently loose to dislodge at any moment. + +Buck sought out what he considered to be the most available spot and +drew his horse up. The rest must be done on foot. No horse could hope +to struggle over such a chaotic path. At his suggestion both animals +were tethered within the shelter of trees. At least the trees would +afford some slight protection should any more of the cliff give way. + +In less than a quarter of an hour they stood a hundred feet from the +actual base of the cliff, and Buck turned to his friend. + +"See that patch up there," he said, pointing at a spread of reddish +surface which seemed to be minutely studded with white specks. "Guess +a peek at it won't hurt. Seems to me it's about ten or twelve feet up. +Guess ther' ain't need for two of us climbin' that way. You best wait +right here, an' I'll git around again after a while." + +The Padre surveyed the patch, and his eyes twinkled. + +"Ten or twelve feet?" he said doubtfully. "Twenty-five." + +"May be." + +"You think it's----?" + +Buck laughed lightly. + +"Can't say what it is--from here." + +The other sat down on an adjacent rock. + +"Get right ahead. I'll wait." + +Buck hurried away, and for some moments the Padre watched his slim +figure, as, scrambling, stumbling, clinging, he made his way to where +the real climb was to begin. Nor was it until he saw the tall figure +halt under an overhanging rock, which seemed to jut right out over his +head, and look up for the course he must take in the final climb, that +Buck's actual danger came home to the onlooker. He was very little +more given to realizing personal danger than Buck himself, but now a +sudden apprehension for the climber gripped him sharply. + +He stirred uneasily as he saw the strong hands reach up and clutch the +jutting facets. He even opened his mouth to offer a warning as he saw +the heavily-booted feet mount to their first foothold. But he +refrained. He realized it might be disconcerting. A few breathless +moments passed as Buck mounted foot by foot. Then came the thing the +Padre dreaded. The youngster's hold broke, and a rock hurtled by him +from under his hand and very nearly dislodged him altogether. + +In an instant the Padre was on his feet with the useless intention of +going to his aid, but, even as he stood up, his own feet shot from +under him, and he fell back heavily upon the rock from which he had +just risen. + +With an impatient exclamation he looked down to discover the cause of +his mishap. There it lay, a loose stone of yellowish hue. He stooped +to remove it, and, in a moment, his irritation was forgotten. In a +moment everything else was forgotten. Buck was forgotten. The peril of +the hill. The cliff itself. For the moment he was lifted out of +himself. Years had passed away, his years of life in those hills. And +something of the romantic dreams of his early youth thrilled him once +again. + +He stood up bearing the cause of his mishap clasped in his two hands +and stared down at it. Then, after a long while, he looked up at the +climbing man. He stood there quite still, watching his movements with +unseeing eyes. His interest was gone. The danger had somehow become +nothing now. There was no longer any thought of the active figure +moving up the face of the hill with cat-like clinging hands and feet. +There was no longer thought for his success or failure. + +Buck reached his goal. He examined the auriferous facet with close +scrutiny and satisfaction. Then he began the descent, and in two +minutes he stood once more beside the Padre. + +"It's high-grade quartz," he cried jubilantly as he came up. + +The Padre nodded, his mind on other things. + +"I'd say the luck's changed," Buck went on, full of his own discovery +and not noticing the other's abstraction. He was enjoying the thought +of the news he had to convey to the starving camp. "I'd say there's +gold in plenty hereabouts and the washout----" + +The Padre suddenly thrust out his two hands which were still grasping +the cause of his discomfiture. He thrust them out so that Buck could +not possibly mistake the movement. + +"There surely is--right here," he said slowly. + +Buck gasped. Then, with shining eyes, he took what the other was +holding into his own two hands. + +"Gold!" he cried as he looked down upon the dull yellow mass. + +"And sixty ounces if there's a pennyweight," added the Padre +exultantly. "You see I--I fell over it," he explained, his quiet eyes +twinkling. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GATHERING FOR THE FEAST + + +Two hours later saw an extraordinary change at the foot of Devil's +Hill. The wonder of the "washout" had passed. Its awe was no longer +upon the human mind. The men of the camp regarded it with no more +thought than if the destruction had been caused by mere blasting +operations. They were not interested in the power causing the wreck, +but only in their own motives, their own greedy longings, their own +lust for the banquet of gold outspread before their ravening eyes. + +The Padre watched these people his news had brought to the hill with +tolerant, kindly eye. He saw them scattered like a small swarm of bees +in the immensity of the ruin wrought by the storm. They had for the +time forgotten him, they had forgotten everything in the wild moment +of long-pent passions unloosed--the danger which overhung them, their +past trials, their half-starved bodies, their recent sufferings. These +things were thrust behind them, they were of the past. Their present +was an insatiable hunger for finds such as had been thrust before +their yearning eyes less than an hour ago. + +He stood by and viewed the spectacle with a mind undisturbed, with a +gentle philosophy inspired by an experience which he alone could +appreciate. It was a wonderful sight. The effort, the haste, the +almost insane intentness of these people seeking the yellow metal, the +discovery of which was the whole bounds of their horizon. He felt +that it was good to see them. Good that these untamed passions should +be allowed full sway. He felt that such as these were the advance +guard of all human enterprise. Theirs was the effort, theirs the +hardship, the risk; and after them would come the trained mind, +perhaps the less honest mind, the mind which must harness the result +of their haphazard efforts to the process of civilization's evolution. +He even fancied he saw something of the influence of this day's work +upon the future of that mountain world. + +But there was regret too in his thought. It was regret at the +impossibility of these pioneers ever enjoying the full fruits of their +labors. They would enjoy them in their own way, at the moment, but +such enjoyment was not adequate reward for their daring, their +sacrifice, their hardihood. Well enough he knew that they were but the +toilers in a weed-grown vineyard, and that it would fall to the lot of +the skilled husbandman to be the man who reaped the harvest. + +It was a picture that would remain long enough in his memory. The +flaying picks rising and falling amongst the looser debris, the +grinding scrape of the shovel, turning again and again the heavy red +gravel. The shouts of hoarse voices hailing each other in jubilant +tones, voices thrilling with a note of hope such as they had not known +for weeks. He saw the hard muscles of sunburnt arms standing out +rope-like with the terrific labor they were engaged in. And in the +background of it all he saw the grim spectacle of the blackened hill, +frowning down like some evil monster, watching the vermin life eating +into a sore it was powerless to protect. + +It was wonderful, the transformation of these things. And yet it was +far less strange than his witness of the spectacle of the beaten, +hopeless men he had helped so long up in the camp. He was glad. + +He was glad, too, that even Buck had been caught in the fever of the +moment. He saw him with the rest, with borrowed tools, working with a +vigor and enthusiasm quite unsurpassed by the most ardent of the +professional gold-seekers. Yet he knew how little the man was tainted +with the disease of these others. He had no understanding whatever of +the meaning of wealth. And the greed of gold had left him quite +untouched. His was the virile, healthy enthusiasm for a quest for +something which was hidden there in the wonderful auriferous soil, a +quest that the heart of any live man is ever powerless to resist. + +With him it would last till sundown, maybe, and after that the fever +would pass from his veins. Then the claims of the life that had always +been his would reassert themselves. + +After a while the Padre's thoughts drifted to the pressing +considerations of the future. Several times he had heard the shouts of +men who had turned a nugget up in the gravel. And at each such cry he +had seen the rush of others, and the feverish manner in which they +took possession of the spot where the lucky individual was working and +hustled him out. It was in these rushes that he saw the danger lying +ahead. + +Hitherto these men had been accustomed to the slow process of washing +"pay-dirt." It was not only slow, but unemotional. It had not the +power to stir the senses to a pitch of excitement like this veritable +Tom Tiddler's ground, pitchforked into their very laps by one of +Nature's freakish impulses. + +With this thought came something very like regret at the apparent +richness of the find. Something must be done, and done without delay, +to regulate the situation. The place must be arranged in claims, and +definite regulations must be laid down and enforced by a council of +the majority. He felt instinctively that this would be the only way to +avert a state of anarchy too appalling to contemplate. It would be an +easy matter now, but a hopeless task to attempt later on. Yes, a big +trouble lay in those rushes, which seemed harmless enough at present. +And he knew that his must be the work of straightening out the +threatened tangle. + +But for the moment the fever must be allowed to run riot. It must work +itself out with the physical effort of hard muscles. In the calm of +rest after labor counsel might be offered and listened to. But not +until then. + +So that memorable day wore on to its close. The luck had come not in +the petty find such as these men had looked for, but in proportions of +prodigal generosity such as Nature sometimes loves to bestow upon +those whom she has hit the hardest. She had called to her aid those +strange powers of which she is mistress and hurled them headlong to do +her bidding. She had bestowed her august consent, and lo, the earth +was opened, and its wealth poured out at the very feet of those who +had so long and so vainly sought it. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SOLVING THE RIDDLE + + +The new owner of the Padre's farm had quite recovered from the effects +of her disastrous journey. Youth and a sound constitution, and the +overwhelming ministrations of Mrs. Ransford had done all that was +needed to restore her. + +She was sitting in an old, much-repaired rocking-chair, in what was +obviously the farm's "best" bedroom. Her trunks, faithfully recovered +from the wreck of the cart by the only too willing Buck, stood open on +the floor amidst a chaotic setting of their contents, while the old +farm-wife herself stood over them, much in the attitude of a faithful +and determined watch-dog. + +The girl looked on indifferent to the confusion and to the damage +being perpetrated before her very eyes. She was lost in thoughts of +her own which had nothing to do with such fripperies as lawns, and +silks, and _suedes_, or any other such feminine excitements. She was +struggling with recollection, and endeavoring to conjure it. There was +a blank in her life, a blank of some hours, which, try as she would, +she could not fill in. It was a blank, as far as she could make out, +which terminated in her arrival at the farm _borne in the arms of some +strange man_. + +Well might such a thought shut out considerations like the almost +certain destruction of a mere wardrobe at the hands of her ignorant +but well-meaning helper. It would have been exciting, too, but for her +memory of the latter stages of her journey. They were still painful. +There was still uncertainty as to what had happened to the teamster +and the horses. + +At last, however, she abandoned further attempt to solve the riddle +unaided, and decided to question her housekeeper. + +"Was it the same man who brought those trunks--I mean the same man +who--brought me here?" she demanded sharply. + +"It surely was," replied Mrs. Ransford, desisting for a moment from +her efforts to bestow a pile of dainty shoes into a night-dress case +of elaborate drawn thread work. "An' a nice mess he's got things in. +Jest look at 'em all tossed about, same as you might toss slap-jacks, +as the sayin' is. It's a mercy of heaven, an' no thanks to him, you've +got a rag fit to wear. It surely ain't fer me to say it, but it's real +lucky I'm here to put things right for you. Drat them shoes! I don't +guess I'll ever git 'em all into this bag, miss--ma'm--I mean miss, +mum." + +Something of the tragedy of her wardrobe became evident to the girl +and she went to the rescue. + +"I'm sorry, but they don't go in there," she said, feeling that an +apology was due for her interference in such well-intended efforts. +"That's--you see, that's my sleeping-suit case," she added gently. + +"Sleepin'-soot?" A pair of round, wondering eyes stared out through +the old woman's glasses. + +The girl pointed at the silk trousers and jacket lying just inside the +nearest trunk, and the farm-wife picked them up gingerly, letting them +unfold as she did so. Just for one moment she inspected them, then +she hurriedly let them drop back into the trunk as though they were +some dangerous reptile, and, folding her arms, glared into the girl's +smiling face in comical reproach. + +"You sure don't wear them pants, miss--at night? Not reely?" she +exclaimed in horrified tones. + +The girl's smile hardened. + +"Why, yes. Lots of girls wear sleeping-suits nowadays." + +"You don't say!" + +The old woman pursed up her lips in strong disapproval. Then, with a +disdainful sniff, she went on-- + +"Wot gals ain't comin' to I don't know, I'm sure. Wot with silk next +their skin an' them draughty stockin's, as you might say, things is +gettin' to a pretty pass. Say, I wouldn't put myself into them pants, +no, not if the President o' the United States was to stand over me an' +wouldn't let me put on nuthin' else." + +The girl refrained from reply, but the obvious impossibility of the +feat appealed to her sense of humor. However, the solution of her +riddle was of prevailing interest, so she returned again to her +questioning. + +"Did he say how he found me?" she demanded. "Did he tell you any--any +particulars of what happened to the cart, and--and the teamster?" + +"No, ma'm--miss, beggin' your pardin,--that he didn't. I never see +sech a fresh feller outside a noospaper office. An' him the owner of +this farm that was, but isn't, as you might say. You take my word for +it he'll come to a bad end, he sure will. Wot with them wicked eyes of +his, an' that black, Dago-lookin' hair. I never did see a feller who +looked more like a scallawag than him. Makes me shiver to think of +him a-carryin' you in his two arms. Wher' from sez I--_an' why_?" + +"Because I couldn't walk, I expect," the girl replied easily. + +The farm-wife shook a fat, warning finger at her. + +"Oh, ma'm--miss--that's wot he says! You jest wait till you've got +more experience o' scallawags like him an' you'll sure know. Wot I sez +is men's that full o' tricks wher' females is to be deceived it 'ud +take 'em a summer vacation sortin' 'emselves out. Men is shockin' +scallawags," she finished up, flinging the shoes pell-mell into the +open trunk. + +A further rescue of her property was necessary and the girl protested. + +"Please don't bother any more with those clothes," she cried +hurriedly. "I'll see to them myself." Then, as the woman proceeded to +mop her perspiring brow with a pair of silk stockings, she sprang up +and thrust a hand-towel toward her. "Use this; you'll find it more +absorbent than--er--silk." + +The old woman thanked her profusely, and made the exchange. And when +the operation was completed the relieved girl returned to her seat and +went on with her examination. + +"What did you say his name was?" + +"I didn't say. An' he didn't tell me, neither. Fellers like him ain't +never ready with their names. Maybe he calls himself Moreton Kenyon. +Y' see he was the same as handed the farm over, an' you tol' me, back +ther' in Leeson Butte, you'd bo't Moreton Kenyon's farm. 'Moreton +Kenyon!' Sort o' high-soundin' name for such a scallawag. I don't +never trust high-soundin' names. They're most like whitewash. You +allus set that sort o' stuff on hog-pens an' sech, as you might say." + +"Perhaps he's not as bad as you suspect," the girl suggested kindly. +"Lots of good people start by making a bad impression." + +"I don't know what that means," cried the other promptly. "But I do +know what a scallawag is, an' that's him." + +It was useless to seek further information from such a source, so the +girl abandoned the attempt, and dismissed the pig-headed housekeeper +to her work, work which she felt she was far better suited to than +such a delicate operation as the straightening out a wardrobe. + +When Mrs. Ransford had taken her unwilling departure, not without +several well-meaning protests, the girl bent her own energies to +restoring order to her wardrobe. Nor was it an easy task. The +masculine manner of the bedroom left much to be desired in those +little depositories and cupboards, without which no woman can live in +comfort. And during the process of disposing her belongings many +mental notes were made for future alterations in the furnishings of +her new abode. + +It was not a bad room, however. The simplicity and cleanliness of it +struck wholesomely upon her. Yes, in spite of what her lieutenant had +said about him, Mr. Moreton Kenyon was certainly a man of some +refinement. She had never heard that such neatness and cleanliness was +the habit amongst small bachelor farmers in the outlands of the West. +And this was the man who had carried her--where from? + +Again she sat down in the rocker and gave herself up to the puzzlement +of those hours of her unconsciousness. The last event that was clear +in her mind was the struggle of the teamster to keep his horses +head-on for the bank of the flooded river. She remembered the surging +waters, she remembered that the bottom of the cart was awash, and that +she sat with her feet lifted and resting on the side of the vehicle. +She remembered that the horses were swimming before the driver's +flogging whip and blasphemous shoutings. All this was plain enough +still. Then came the man's order to herself. He warned her to get +ready to jump, and she had been quick to realize the necessity. In +spite of the horses' wildest struggles the cart was being washed +down-stream. Then had come his final shout. And she had jumped on the +instant. + +At this point of her recollections things became confused. She had a +hazy memory of floundering in the water, also she remembered a heavy +blow on the shoulder. Then some one seemed to seize hold of her. It +must have been the teamster, though she did not remember seeing him in +the water. How she got out was a mystery to her. Again it must have +been the teamster. Then what of him? Mrs. Ransford had not spoken of +him. Had he, too, escaped? or had he--she shuddered. For some moments +her thoughts depressed her. The thought of a brave man's life +sacrificed for her was too terrible. + +But after a while she continued in a lighter strain. It was at this +point that the blank began. True, she seemed to have some dim +recollection of a rough hut. It seemed to be made of logs. Then, too, +she had a dreamy sort of cognizance of a number of men's voices +talking. Then--no, there was nothing more after that. Nothing until +she awoke and found herself in bed, with a strange doctor standing +over her. + +It was all very puzzling, but--she turned toward the window as the +afternoon sun fell athwart it and lit the plain interior of her new +bedroom, searching the corners and the simple furnishings of the +carpetless room. + +From where she sat she could see the barns and corrals, and beyond +them the heavy-hued pine woods. Then, away out far, far in the +distance, the endless white snowcaps of the purpling hills. What a +scene to her unaccustomed eyes. The breadth of it. The immensity. + +She drew a deep breath and sat up. + +She was dressed in a simple white shirt-waist and blue serge skirt, +and her masses of red-gold hair were loosely coiled about her +well-shaped head. The eager light of interest in her violet eyes lit +her beautiful young face, lending it an animation which added a +wonderful vitality to her natural beauty. The firm, rich lips were +parted eagerly. The wide-open eyes, so deeply intelligent, shone with +a lustre of delight there was no mistaking. Her rounded bosom rose and +fell rapidly as the glad thought flew through her brain that +this--this was her new home, where she was to forget the past and shut +out all recollection of that evil shadow which had so long pursued +her. + +Yes, this was the beginning of her new life. Joan Stanmore was dead, +and out of the ashes had arisen Joan Rest, ready to face the world in +a spirit of well-doing bachelorhood. Here, here in the wild mountain +world, where men were few and apart from her old life, she could face +the future with perfect confidence. + +She breathed a deep sigh of contentment and lolled back in the rocker, +dropping her eyes from the snow-crowned hills to the precious little +farm that was all hers. Then, in an instant, she sat up again as the +tall figure of a young man appeared round the corner of the barn. + +For some moments she followed his movements wonderingly. He walked +straight over to the hay corral with long, easy strides. There was +none of the slouch of a man idling about him. His whole attitude was +full of distinct purpose. She saw him enter the corral and mount the +half-cut haystack, and proceed to cut deeper into it. A moment later +he pitched the loose hay to the ground, and himself slid down on to +it. Then, stooping, he gathered it in his arms and left the corral. + +Now she saw his face for the first time. It was dark. Nor could she be +certain that his coloring was due to sunburn. His eyes were dark, too, +and his hair. He was a good-looking man, she decided, and quite young. +But how tall. And what shoulders. She wondered who he was, and what he +was doing on her farm. + +Then, of a sudden, she remembered she had spoken of a hired man to +Mrs. Ransford. Had she----? + +Her reflections were cut short by the sudden appearance of the +farm-wife from the house. The old woman trotted hastily across the +yard toward the barn, her fat sides shaking as she waddled, and her +short, stout arms violently gesticulating. Joan needed nothing more +than the good woman's back view to tell her that the dame was very +angry, and that it was the stranger who had inspired her wrath. She +waited, smiling, for the _denouement_. + +It came quickly. It came with the reappearance of the stranger round +the corner of the barn. What a splendid specimen of a man, she +thought, as she watched the expression of unruffled calm on his strong +features. His shirt sleeves were rolled well up above his elbows, and +even at that distance she could see the deep furrows in his arms +where the rope-like muscles stood out beneath the thin, almost +delicate skin. + +But her attention was quickly diverted by the clacking of the +farm-wife's tongue. She could hear it where she sat with the window +tight shut. And though she could not hear the words it was plain +enough from the violence of her gesticulations that she was rating the +patient man soundly. So patent was it, so dreadful, that even in her +keenest interest Joan found herself wondering if Mr. Ransford were +dead, and hoping that, if he were, his decease had occurred in early +youth. + +Nor had the man made any attempt at response. She was sure of it, +because she had watched his firm lips, and they had not moved. Perhaps +he had found retort impossible. It was quite possible, for the other +had not paused a moment in her tirade. What a flow. It was colossal, +stupendous. Joan felt sorry for the man. + +What a patience he had. Nor had his expression once altered. He merely +displayed the thoughtful attention that one might bestow, listening to +a brilliant conversationalist or an interesting story. It was too +ridiculous, and Joan began to laugh. + +Then the end came abruptly and without warning. Mrs. Ransford just +swung about and trotted furiously back to the house. Her face was +flaming, and her fat arms, flourishing like unlimber flails, were +pointing every verbal threat she hurled over her shoulder at the spot +where the man had stood. Yes, he had vanished again round the corner +of the barn, and the poor woman's best efforts were quite lost upon +the warm summer air. + +But her purpose was obvious, and Joan prepared herself for a +whirlwind visitation. Nor had she long to wait. There was a shuffling +of feet out in the passage, and, the next moment, the door of her room +was unceremoniously flung open and the indignant woman staggered in. + +"Well, of all the impidence, of all the sass, of all the ignorant bums +that ever I----!" She exploded, and stood panting under the strain of +her furious emotions. + +But Joan felt she really must assert herself. This sort of reign of +terror must not go on. + +"Don't fluster yourself, Mrs. Ransford," she said calmly. "I'll see to +the matter myself." + +But she might as well have attempted to stem the tide of the river +that had wrecked her journey as stay the irate woman's tongue. + +"But it's him!" she cried. "Him, that low-down scallawag that carried +you in his arms an' walked right into this yere bedroom an' laid you +on your own virgin bed without no by your leave nor nuthin'. Him, as +saw your trunks drownded an' you all mussed up with water, without +raisin' a hand to help, 'less it was to push you further under----" + +But Joan was equal to no more. She pushed the well-meaning creature on +one side and hurried out of the house, while the echoes of the other's +scathing indictment died down behind her. + +Joan did not hesitate. It was not her way to hesitate about anything +when her mind was made up. And just now she was determined to find out +the real story of what had happened to her. She was interested. This +man had carried her. He had brought her trunks up. And--yes, she liked +the look of him. + +But she felt it necessary to approach the matter with becoming +dignity. She was not given much to standing on her dignity, but she +felt that in her association with the men of these parts she must +harden herself to it. All friendships with men were banned. This she +was quite decided upon. And she sighed as she passed round the angle +of the barn. + +Her sigh died at its birth, however, and she was brought to a short +and terrified halt. Two prongs of a hayfork gleamed viciously within +three inches of her horrified eyes, and, behind them, with eyes no +less horrified, stood the dark-haired stranger. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SHADOW OF THE PAST + + +The gleaming prongs of the fork were sharply withdrawn, and a pleasant +voice greeted the girl. + +"Guess that was a near thing," it said half-warningly. + +Joan had started back, but at the sound of the voice she quickly +recovered herself. + +"It was," she agreed. Then as she looked into the smiling eyes of the +stranger she began to laugh. + +"Another inch an' more an' you'd sure have been all mussed up on that +pile of barn litter," he went on, joining in her laugh. + +"I s'pose I should," Joan nodded, her mirth promptly sobering to a +broad smile. + +She had almost forgotten her purpose so taken up was she in observing +this "scallawag," as Mrs. Ransford had called him. Nor did it take her +impressionable nature more than a second to decide that her worthy +housekeeper was something in the nature of a thoroughly stupid woman. +She liked the look of him. She liked his easy manner. More than all +she liked the confident look of his dark eyes and his sunburnt face, +so full of strength. + +"Hayforks are cussed things anyway," the man said, flinging the +implement aside as though it had offended him. + +Joan watched him. She was wondering how best to approach the questions +in her mind. Somehow they did not come as easily as she had +anticipated. It was one thing to make up her mind beforehand, and +another to put her decision into execution. He was certainly not the +rough, uncouth man she had expected to find. True, his language was +the language of the prairie, and his clothes, yes, they surely +belonged to his surroundings, but there was none of the uncleanness +about them she had anticipated. + +It was his general manner, however, that affected her chiefly. How +tall and strong he was, and the wonderful sunburn on his clean-cut +face and massive arms! Then he had such an air of reserve. No, it was +not easy. + +Finally, she decided to temporize, and wait for an opening. And in +that she knew in her heart she was yielding to weakness. + +"My housekeeper tells me it was you who handed the farm over to her?" +she said interrogatively. + +The man's eyes began to twinkle again. + +"Was that your--housekeeper?" he inquired. + +"Yes--Mrs. Ransford." + +Joan felt even less at her ease confronted by those twinkling eyes. + +"She's a--bright woman." + +The man casually picked up a straw and began to chew it. + +Joan saw that he was smiling broadly, and resented it. So she threw +all the dignity she could summon into her next question. + +"Then you must be Mr. Moreton Kenyon!" she said. + +The man shook his head. + +"Wrong. That's the 'Padre,'" he announced curtly. + +Joan forgot her resentment in her surprise. + +"The 'Padre'! Why, I thought Mr. Kenyon was a farmer!" + +The man nodded. + +"So he is. You see folks call him Padre because he's a real good +feller," he explained. Then he added: "He's got white hair, too. A +whole heap of it. That sort o' clinched it." + +The dark eyes had become quite serious again. There was even a tender +light in them as he searched the girl's fair face. He was wondering +what was yet to come. He was wondering how this interview was to bear +on the future. In spite of his easy manner he dreaded lest the threats +of Mrs. Ransford were about to be put into execution. + +Joan accepted his explanation. + +"I see," she said. Then, after a pause: "Then who are you?" + +"Me? Oh, I'm 'Buck,'" he responded, with a short laugh. + +"Buck--who?" + +"Jest plain 'Buck.'" Again came that short laugh. + +"Mr. Kenyon's son?" + +The man shook his head, and Joan tried again. + +"His nephew?" + +Again came that definite shake. Joan persisted, but with growing +impatience. + +"Perhaps you're--his partner?" she said, feeling that if he again +shook his head she must inevitably shake him. + +But she was spared a further trial. Buck had been quick to realize +her disappointment. Nor had he any desire to inspire her anger. On the +contrary, his one thought was to please and help her. + +"You see we're not related. Ther's nuthin' between us but that he's +jest my great big friend," he explained. + +His reward came promptly in the girl's sunny smile. And the sight of +it quickened his pulses and set him longing to hold her again in his +arms as he had done only yesterday. Somehow she had taken a place in +his thoughts which left him feeling very helpless. He never remembered +feeling helpless before. It was as though her coming into his life had +robbed him of all his confidence. Yesterday he had found a woman +almost in rags. Yesterday she was in trouble, and it had seemed the +simplest thing in the world for him to take her in his arms and carry +her to the home he knew to be hers. Now--now, all that confidence was +gone. Now an indefinable barrier, but none the less real, had been +raised between them. It was a barrier he felt powerless to break down. +This beautiful girl, with her deep violet eyes and wonderful red-gold +hair, clad in her trim costume of lawn and serge, seemed to him like a +creature from an undreamed-of world, and as remote from him as if +thousands of miles separated them. He sighed as Joan went on with her +examination-- + +"I suppose you have come to fetch some of your big friend's +belongings?" she said pleasantly. + +For answer Buck suddenly flung out a protecting arm. + +"Say, you're sure getting mussed with that dirty litter," he said +almost reproachfully. "See, your fixin's are right agin it. Say----" + +Joan laughed outright at his look of profound concern. + +"That doesn't matter a bit," she exclaimed. "I must get used to being +'mussed-up.' You see, I'm a farmer--now." + +The other's concern promptly vanished. He loved to hear her laugh. + +"You never farmed any?" he asked. + +"Never." Joan shook her head in mock seriousness. "Isn't it desperate +of me? No, I'm straight from a city." + +Buck withdrew his gaze from her face and glanced out at the hills. But +it was only for a moment. His eyes came back as though drawn by a +magnet. + +"Guess you'll likely find it dull here--after a city," he said at +last. "Y' see, it's a heap quiet. It ain't quiet to me, but then I've +never been to a city--unless you call Leeson Butte a city. Some folks +feel lonesome among these big hills." + +"I don't think I shall feel lonesome," Joan said quickly. "The peace +and quiet of this big world is all I ask. I left the city to get away +from--oh, from the bustle of it all! Yes, I want the rest and quiet of +these hills more than anything else in the world." + +The passionate longing in her words left Buck wondering. But he nodded +sympathetically. + +"I'd say you'd get it right here," he declared. Then he turned toward +the great hills, and a subtle change seemed to come over his whole +manner. His dark eyes wore a deep, far-away look in which shone a +wonderfully tender affection. It was the face of a man who, perhaps +for the first time, realizes the extent and depth of his love for the +homeland which is his. + +"It's big--big," he went on, half to himself. "It's so big it +sometimes makes me wonder. Look at 'em," he cried, pointing out at the +purpling distance, "rising step after step till it don't seem they can +ever git bigger. An' between each step there's a sort of world +different from any other. Each one's hidden all up, so pryin' eyes +can't see into 'em. There's life in those worlds, all sorts of life. +An' it's jest fightin', lovin', dyin', eatin', sleepin', same as +everywhere else. There's a big story in 'em somewhere--a great big +story. An' it's all about the game of life goin' on in there, jest the +same as it does here, an' anywher'. Yes, it's a big story and hard to +read for most of us. Guess we don't ever finish readin' it, +anyway--until we die. Don't guess they intended us to. Don't guess it +would be good for us to read it easy." + +He turned slowly from the scene that meant so much to him, and smiled +into Joan's astonished eyes. + +"An' you're goin' to git busy--readin' that story?" he asked. + +The startled girl found herself answering almost before she was aware +of it. + +"I--I hope to," she said simply. + +Then she suddenly realized her own smallness. She felt almost +overpowered with the bigness of what the man's words had shown her. It +was wonderful to her the thought of this--this "scallawag." The word +flashed through her mind, and with it came an even fuller realization +of Mrs. Ransford's stupidity. The man's thought was the poet's insight +into Nature's wonderlands. He was speaking of that great mountain +world as though it were a religion to him, as if it represented some +treasured poetic ideal, or some lifelong, priceless friendship. + +She saw his answering nod of sympathy, and sighed her relief. Just for +one moment she had been afraid. She had been afraid of some sign of +pity, even contempt. She felt her own weakness without that. Now she +was glad, and went on with more confidence. + +"I'm going to start from the very beginning," she said, with something +akin to enthusiasm. "I'm going to start here--right here, on my very +own farm. Surely the rudiments must lie here--the rudiments that must +be mastered before the greater task of reading that story is begun." +She turned toward the blue hills, where the summer clouds were wrapped +about the glistening snowcaps. "Yes," she cried, clasping her hands +enthusiastically, "I want to learn it all--all." Suddenly she turned +back and looked at him with a wonderful, smiling simplicity. "Will you +help me?" she said eagerly. "Perhaps--in odd moments? Will you help me +with those--lessons?" + +Buck's breath came quickly, and his simple heart was set thumping in +his bosom. But his face was serious, and his eyes quite calm as he +nodded. + +"It'll be dead easy for you to learn," he said, a new deep note +sounding in his voice. "You'll learn anything I know, an' much more, +in no time. You can't help but learn. You'll be quicker to understand, +quicker to feel all those things. Y' see I've got no sort of +cleverness--nor nuthin'. I jest look around an' see things--an' then, +then I think I know." He laughed quietly at his own conceit. "Oh, yes! +sometimes I guess I know it all. An' then I get sorry for folks that +don't, an' I jest wonder how it comes everybody don't understand--same +as me. Then something happens." + +"Yes, yes." + +Joan was so eager she felt she could not wait for the pause that +followed. Buck laughed. + +"Something happens, same as it did yesterday," he went on. "Oh, it's +big--it sure is!" he added. And he turned again to his contemplation +of the hills. + +But Joan promptly recalled his wandering attention. + +"You mean--the storm?" she demanded. + +Buck nodded. + +"That--an' the other." + +"What--other?" + +"The washout," he said. + +Then, as he saw the look of perplexity in the wide violet eyes, he +went on to explain-- + +"You ain't heard? Why, there was a washout on Devil's Hill, where for +nigh a year they bin lookin' for gold. Y' see they knew the gold was +there, but couldn't jest locate it. For months an' months they ain't +seen a sign o' color. They bin right down to 'hard pan.' They wer' +jest starvin' their lives clear out. But they'd sank the'r pile in +that hill, an' couldn't bring 'emselves to quit. Then along comes the +storm, an' right wher' they're working it washes a great lump o' the +hill down. Hundreds o' thousands o' tons of rock an' stuff it would +have needed a train load of dynamite to shift." + +"Yes, yes." Joan's eagerness brought her a step nearer to him. "And +they found----" + +"Gold!" Buck laughed. "Lumps of it." + +"Gold--in lumps!" The girl's eyes widened with an excitement which the +discovery of the precious metal ever inspires. + +The man watched her thoughtfully. + +"Why aren't you there?" Joan demanded suddenly. + +"Can't jest say." Buck shrugged. "Maybe it's because they bin lookin' +fer gold, an'--wal, I haven't." + +"Gold--in lumps!" Again came the girl's amazed exclamation, and Buck +smiled at her enthusiasm. + +"Sure. An' they kind o' blame you for it. They sort o' fancy you +brought 'em their luck. Y' see it came when you got around their hut. +They say ther' wasn't no luck to the place till you brought it. An' +now----" + +Joan's eyes shone. + +"Oh, I'm so glad. I'm so glad I've brought them----" + +But her expression of joy was never completed. She broke off with a +sharp ejaculation, and the color died out of her cheeks, leaving her +so ghastly pale that the man thought she was about to faint. She +staggered back and leant for support against the wall of the barn, and +Buck sprang to her side. In a moment, however, she stood up and +imperiously waved him aside. + +There was no mistaking the movement. Her whole manner seemed to have +frozen up. The frank girlishness had died as completely as though it +had never been, and the man stood abashed, and at a loss for +understanding. + +Now he saw before him a woman still beautiful, but a woman whose eyes +had lost every vestige of that happy light. Despair was written in +every feature, despair and utter hopelessness. Her mouth, that +beautiful mouth so rich and delicate, was now tight shut as of one in +great suffering, and deep, hard lines had suddenly gathered about the +corners of it. The change smote him to the heart, but left him utterly +helpless. + +Realization had come. Joan had suddenly remembered all that lay behind +her--all that had driven her to seek the remoteness of the wild +Western world. She had sought to flee from the fate which her Aunt +Mercy had told her was hers, and now she knew that she might as well +try to flee from her own shadow. + +Oh, the horror of it all! These people believed that she had brought +them their luck. _She knew that she had._ What was the disaster that +must follow? What lives must go down before the sword a terrible Fate +had placed in her hand? For the moment panic held her in its grip. For +a moment it seemed that death alone could save her from the dread +consequences of the curse that was upon her. It was cruel, cruel--the +desolation, the hopelessness of it all. And in her sudden anguish she +prayed that death might be visited upon her. + +But even amidst the horror of her realization the influence of the +man's presence was at work. She knew he was there a witness to the +terror she could not hide, and so she strove for recovery. + +Then she heard him speak, and at the sound of his quiet tone her +nerves eased and she grew calmer. + +"I don't guess you recovered from the storm. I'd sure say you need +rest," Buck said in his gentle, solicitous fashion. And in her heart +Joan thanked him for the encouragement his words gave her. He had +asked no questions. He had expressed no astonishment, and yet she knew +he must have realized that her trouble was no physical ailment. + +"Yes," she said, jumping at the opening he had given her, "I'm tired. +I'll--I'll go back to the house." + +Buck nodded, disguising his anxiety beneath a calm that seemed so +natural to him. + +"Jest get back an' rest. You needn't worry any 'bout the hosses, an' +cows, an' things. I'm fixin' them for the night, an' I'll be right +along in the morning to do the chores. Y' see I know this farm, an' +all that needs doin'. Guess I was raised on it," he added, with a +smile, "so the work's sort o' second nature to me." + +Joan's chance had come, but she passed it by. She knew she ought to +have refused his help. She ought to have, as Mrs. Ransford had said, +sent him about his business. But she did nothing of the sort. She +accepted. She did more. She held out her hand to him, and let him take +it in both of his in a friendly pressure as she thanked him. + +"I'm--I'm very grateful," she said weakly. And the man flushed under +his sunburn, while his temples hammered as the hot young blood mounted +to his brain. + +A moment later Buck stood staring at the angle of the barn round which +Joan had just vanished. He was half-dazed, and the only thing that +seemed absolutely real to him was the gentle pressure of her hand as +it had rested in his. He could feel it still; he could feel every +pressure of the soft, warm flesh where it had lain on his hard palms. +And all the time he stood there his whole body thrilled with an +emotion that was almost painful. + +At last he stirred. He stooped and picked up the discarded fork. He +had no definite purpose. He was scarcely aware of his action. He held +it for a moment poised in the air. Then slowly he let the prongs of it +rest on the ground, and, leaning his chin on his hands clasped about +the haft, stared out at the hills and gave himself up to such a dream +as never before had entered his life. + +The sun was dipping behind the snowcaps, and for half an hour the work +he had voluntarily undertaken remained untouched. + +How much longer he would have remained lost in his wonderful dreaming +it would have been impossible to tell. But he was ruthlessly awakened, +and all his youthful ardor received a cold douche as the evening quiet +was suddenly broken by the harsh voices of the crowd of gold-seekers, +whom he suddenly beheld approaching the farm along the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE GOLDEN WOMAN + + +Buck wondered as he noted the extraordinary picture of jubilation +which the approaching crowd presented. In all his association with +these people he had never witnessed anything to equal it or even come +near it. He never remembered anything like a real outburst of joy +during the long, dreary months since they had first camped on the +banks of Yellow Creek. + +He watched the faces as they drew near. From the shelter of the barn, +whither he had retreated, he had them in full view. He looked for the +old, weary signs of their recent privations and sufferings. There were +none, not one. They had passed as utterly as though they had never +been. + +It was a spectacle in which he found the greatest pleasure. The men +were clad in their work-stained clothing, their only clothing. Their +faces remained unwashed, and still bore the accumulations of dusty +sweat from their day's fevered labors. But it was the light in their +eyes, their grinning faces, the buoyancy of their gait that held him. +He heard their voices lifted in such a tone as would have seemed +impossible only a few days ago. The loud, harsh laugh, accompanying +inconsequent jests and jibes, it was good to hear. These men were +tasting the sweets of a moment of perfect happiness. Buck knew well +enough that soon, probably by the morrow, the moment would have +passed, and they would have settled again to the stern calling of +their lives. + +All his sympathy was with them, and their joy was reflected in his own +feelings. Their hope was his hope, their buoyancy was his buoyancy. +For his happiness was complete at the moment, and thus he was left +free to feel with those others. Such was his own wonderful exaltation +that the thought of the termination of these people's suffering was +the final note that made his joy complete. + +He laid his fork aside and waited till they had passed his retreat. +The object of their journey was obviously the farmhouse, and he felt +that he must learn their further purpose. He remembered Joan's going +from him. He had seen the pain and trouble in her beautiful eyes, and +so he feared that the sudden rush of animal spirits in these people +would drive them to extravagances, well enough meant, but which might +worry and even alarm her. + +He moved quickly out of the barn and looked after them. They had +reached the house, and stood like a herd of subdued and silly sheep +waiting for a sign from their leader. It was a quaint sight. The laugh +and jest had died out, and only was the foolish grin left. Yes, they +certainly had a definite purpose in their minds, but they equally +certainly were in doubt as to how it should be carried out. + +Buck drew nearer without attracting their attention. The men were so +deeply engaged with the dilemma of the moment that he might almost +have joined the group without observation. But he merely desired to be +on hand to help should the troubled girl need his help. He had no +desire to take active part in the demonstration. As he came near he +heard Beasley's voice, and the very sound of it jarred unpleasantly on +his ears. The man was talking in that half-cynical fashion which was +never without an added venom behind it. + +"Well," he heard him exclaim derisively, "wot's doin'? You're all +mighty big talkers back ther' in camp, but I don't seem to hear any +bright suggestions goin' around now. You start this gorl-durned racket +like a pack o' weak-headed fools, yearnin' to pitch away what's been +chucked right into your fool laps jest fer one o' Blue Grass Pete's +fat-head notions. Well, wot's doin'? I ask." + +"You ke'p that ugly map o' yours closed," cried Pete hotly. "_You_ +ain't bein' robbed any." + +"Guess I'll see to that," retorted Beasley, with a grin. "The feller +that robs me'll need to chew razors fer a pastime. If it comes to that +you're yearnin' fer glory at the Padre's expense--as usual." + +Buck's ears tingled, and he drew closer. Beasley always had a knack of +so blending truth with his personal venom that it stung far more than +downright insult. He wondered what the Padre's generosity had been, +and wherein lay its connection with their present purpose. The +explanation was not long in coming, for Montana Ike took up the +challenge amidst a storm of ominous murmurs from the gathered men. + +"Don't take nuthin' from him," cried the youngster scornfully. Then he +turned on Beasley fiercely. "You need Buck around to set you right, +Mister Lousy Beasley," he cried. "We ain't robbin' anybody, an' sure +not the Padre. He found that nugget, an' it's his to give or do wot he +likes with. The gal brought us the luck, an' the Padre guessed it was +only right she should have the first find. That nugget was the first +find, an' the Padre found it. Wal!" But as no reply was forthcoming he +hurried on, turning his tongue loose in the best abuse he could +command at the moment. "You're a rotten sort o' skunk anyway, an' you +ain't got a decent thought in your diseased head. I'd like to say +right here that you hate seein' a sixty-ounce lump o' gold in any +other hands than your own dirty paws. That's your trouble, so jest +shut right up while better folks handles a matter wot's a sight too +delicate fer a rotten mind like yours." + +The smile had returned to every face except the foxy features of the +ex-Churchman, who for once had no adequate retort ready. Curly +Saunders nodded appreciation, and helped to solve the momentary +dilemma prevailing. + +"That's sure done it fer you, Montana," he cried gleefully. "You make +the presentation. I'd say I never heard so elegant a flow of argyment +in this yer camp. You'll talk most pretty to the leddy." + +"An' it ain't fer me to say I can't do it if need be, neither," said +Montana modestly. "Don't guess it's much of a stunt yappin' pretty to +a sorrel-topped gal." + +Abe Allinson laughed. + +"It's sure up to you, Ike," he said. "Guess you best git busy right +away." + +The rest waited for the youngster's acceptance of the responsibility, +which promptly came with perfect good-will. + +"Gee! But you're a gritty outfit," he cried, with a wide grin. +"Say, I guess you'd need a fence around you shootin' jack-rabbits. +Jack-rabbits is ter'ble fierce. Guess you'd most be skeered to death +at a skippin' lamb bleatin' fer its mother. Can't say I ever heerd +tell as a feller need be skeered of a pair o' gal's eyes, nor a sight +o' red ha'r. You said it was red, Pete, didn't you? I'd sure say a +bright feller don't need to worry any over talkin' pretty to a gal +like that. She's up agin a proposition if she thinks she ken skeer me. +Wher' is she? Jest call her out. She's goin' to git her med'cine right +here in the open. I ain't doin' no parlor tricks." + +The boy stood out from the crowd with a decided show of mild bravado, +but he glanced about him, seeking the moral support of his fellows. + +"You best knock on the door, Ike," said Curly quietly. + +Ike hesitated. Then he turned doubtfully to those behind. + +"You--you mean that?" he inquired. "You ain't foolin' none?" Then, as +though realizing his own weakness, he began to bluster. "Cos I ain't +takin' no foolin' in a racket o' this sort. An' any feller thinks he +ken fool me'll sure hate hisself when I'm through with him." + +A mild snicker greeted his "big talk," and the boy flushed hotly. He +was half-inclined to add further resentment, but, second thoughts +prevailing, he abruptly turned to the door and hammered on it as +though anticipating stern resistance from those within. + + * * * * * + +Inside the house Mrs. Ransford was debating the situation with her +mistress. She had witnessed the advance of the besieging party, and, +half-frightened and half-resentful, the latter perhaps the more +plainly manifested, she was detailing in unmeasured terms her opinions +and fears to the still harassed girl. + +"Jest git a peek at 'em through the window, miss--'ma'm' I should say, +on'y I don't allus remember right, as you might say. Ther's twenty an' +more o' the lowest down bums ever I see outside a State penitentiary. +They're sure the most ter'blest lot ever I did see. An' they got +'emselves fixed up wi' guns an' knives, an' what not an' sech, till +you can't see the color o' their clothes fer the dirt on 'em. I'll +swar' to goodness, as the sayin' is, they ain't never see no water +sence they was christened, if they ever was christened, which I don't +believe no gospel preacher would ever so demean himself. An' as fer +soap, say, they couldn't even spell it if you was to hand 'em the +whole soap fact'ry literature of a fi'-cent daily noos-sheet. They're +jest ter'ble, an' it seems to me we sure need a reg'ment o' United +States Cavalry settin' around on horses an' field guns to pertect us, +ef we're to farm this one-hossed layout. They're 'bad men,' mum, +miss--which I made a mistake ag'in--that's wot they are. I've read +about 'em in the fi'-cent comics, so I sure know 'em when I see 'em. +You can't never make no mistake. They're jest goin' to shoot us all up +to glory, an' they'll dance around on our corpses, same as if they was +nuthin', nor no account anyways." + +In spite of her recent shock Joan found herself smiling at the strange +mixture of fear and anger in the old woman's manner. But she felt it +necessary to check her flow of wild accusations. She guessed easily +enough who the men were that were approaching the house, but their +object remained a mystery. + +"You're hasty. You mustn't judge these people by their appearance. +They're----" + +But the feverish tongue was promptly set clacking again. + +"An' wot, I asks, is they to be judged by if not by wot they are? They +jest come along a-yowlin', an' a-shootin' off'n their guns an' things, +same as they allus do when they's on the war-path. Scalps, that's wot +they's after. Scalps, no more an' no less. An' to think o' me at my +time o' life a-fallin' a prey to Injuns, as you might say. Oh, if on'y +my pore George D. Ransford was alive! He'd 'a' give 'em scalps. He was +a man, sure, even though he did set around playin' poker all night +when I was in labor with my twins. He was a great fighter was George +D.--as the marks on my body ken show to this very day." + +At that instant there was a terrific knocking at the door which opened +directly into the parlor in which the waiting women were standing, and +the farm-wife jumped and staggered back, and, finally, collapsed into +an adjacent chair. + +"Sakes on us," she cried, her fat face turning a sort of pea-green, +"if only my pore George D.----" + +But Joan's patience could stand no more. + +"For goodness' sake go back to your kitchen, you absurd creature. I'll +see to the matter. I----" + +But the old woman wobbled to her feet almost weeping. + +"Now, don't 'ee, miss," she cried in her tearful anxiety, getting her +form of address right the first time. "Don't 'ee be rash. Ther'll be +blood spilt, ther' sure will. Ther's on'y one way, miss, you must talk +'em nice, an', an' if they go fer to take liberties, you--why you," +she edged toward her kitchen, "you jest send for me right away." + +She hurried out, and the moment she was out of sight fled +precipitately to the farthest extremity of her own domain and armed +herself with the heavy iron shaker of the cook-stove. + +In the meantime Joan went to the door and flung it wide open. In spite +of the farm-wife's warnings she had not a shadow of doubt as to the +peaceful object of the visitation, and rather felt that in some sort +of way it was intended as an expression of good-will and greeting. Had +not Buck told her that they held her in the light of some sort of +benefactor? So she stood in the doorway erect and waiting, with a calm +face, on which there was not a shadow of a smile. + +She took in the gathering at a glance, and her eyes came to rest upon +the foremost figure of Montana Ike. She noted his slim, boyish figure, +the weak, animal expression shining in his furtive eyes. To her he +looked just what he was, a virile specimen of reckless young manhood, +of vicious and untamed spirit. She saw at once that he was standing +out from his companions, and understood that, for the moment at least, +he was their leader. + +"Good-evening," she said, her attitude mechanically unbending. + +"Evenin', miss," responded Ike bravely, and then relapsed into a +violent condition of blushing through his dirt. + +He stood there paralyzed at the girl's beauty. He just gaped foolishly +at her, his eyes seeking refuge in dwelling upon the well-cut skirt +she wore and the perfect whiteness of the lawn shirt-waist, which +permitted the delicate pink tinge of her arms and shoulders to show +through it. + +All his bravery was gone--all his assurance. If his life had depended +on it not one word of an address on behalf of his fellows could he +have uttered. + +Joan saw his confusion, and mercifully came to his rescue. + +"You wish to see me?" she inquired, with a smile which plunged the boy +into even more hopeless confusion. + +As no answer was forthcoming she looked appealingly at the other +faces. + +"It's very kind of you all to come here," she said gently. "Is--is +there anything I can--do for you?" + +Suddenly Beasley's voice made itself heard. + +"Git busy, Ike, you're spokesman," he cried. "Git on with the +presentation--ladle out the ad--dress. You're kind o' lookin' +foolish." + +He followed up his words with his unpleasant laugh, and it was the +sting the youthful leader needed. + +He turned fiercely on the speaker, his momentary paralysis all +vanished. + +"Ef I'm spokesman," he cried, "guess we don't need no buttin' in from +Beasley Melford." Then he turned again quickly. "Astin' your pardon, +miss," he added apologetically. + +"That's all right," said Joan, smiling amiably. "What are you +'spokesman' for?" + +The boy grinned foolishly. + +"Can't rightly say, missie." Then he jerked his head in his comrades' +direction. "Guess if you was to ast _them_, they'd call theirselves +_men_." + +"I didn't say 'who,' I said 'what,'" Joan protested, with a laugh at +his desperately serious manner. + +"'What?'" he murmured, smearing his dirty forehead with a horny hand +in the effort of his task. Then he brightened. "Why, gener'ly +speakin'," he went on, with sudden enthusiasm, "they ain't much +better'n skippin' sheep. Y' see they want to but darsent. +So--wal--they jest set me up to sling the hot air." + +The girl looked appealingly at the rough faces for assistance. But +instead of help she only beheld an expression of general discontent +turned on the unconscious back of the spokesman. And coming back to +the boy she pursued the only course possible. + +"I--I don't think I quite understand," she said. + +Ike readily agreed with her. + +"I'm durned sure you can't," he cried heartily. "They jest think it a +rotten kind of a job handin' a red-ha'r'd gal a few words an' an +a'mighty fine hunk o' gold. That's cos they ain't been dragged up jest +right. You can't expect elegant feedin' at a hog trough. Now it's kind +o' diff'rent wi' me. I----" + +"Oh, quit," cried the sharp voice of the exasperated Abe Allinson. And +there was no doubt but he was speaking for the rest of the audience. + +Pete followed him in a tone of equal resentment. + +"That ain't no sort o' way ad--dressin' a leddy," he said angrily. + +"Course it ain't," sneered Beasley. "Ther's sure bats roostin' in your +belfry, Ike." + +The boy jumped round on the instant. His good-nature could stand the +jibes of his comrades generally, but Beasley's sneers neither he nor +any one else could endure. + +"Who's that yappin'?" the youngster cried, glowering into the +speaker's face. "That the feller Buck called an outlaw passon?" he +demanded. His right hand slipped to the butt of his gun. "Say you," +he cried threateningly, "if you got anything to say I'm right here +yearnin' to listen." + +Joan saw the half-drawn weapon, and in the same instant became aware +of a movement on the part of the man Beasley. She was horrified, +expecting one of those fierce collisions she had heard about. But the +moment passed, and, though she did not realize it, it was caused by +Ike's gun leaving its holster first. + +Her woman's fear urged her, and she raised a protesting hand. + +"Please--please," she cried, her eyes dilating with apprehension. +"What have I done that you should come here to quarrel?" + +Buck in the background smiled. He was mentally applauding the girl's +readiness, while he watched the others closely. + +Ike turned to her again, and his anger had merged into a comical look +of chagrin. + +"Y' see, missie," he said in a fresh tone of apology, "ther's fellers +around here wi' no sort o' manners. They're scairt to death makin' a +big talk to a red-ha'r'd gal, so I jest got to do it. An' I sez it, it +ain't easy, folks like me speechin' to folks like you----" + +"Oh, git on!" cried Pete in a tired voice. + +"Your hot air's nigh freezin'," laughed Soapy Kid. + +"Quit it," cried Ike hotly. "Ain't they an ignorant lot o' hogs?" he +went on, appealing to the smiling girl. "Y' see, missie, we're right +glad you come along. We're prospectin' this layout fer gold an'----" + +"An' we ain't had no sort o' luck till you got around," added Pete +hastily. + +"In the storm," nodded Curly Saunders. + +"All mussed-up an' beat to hell," cried Ike, feeling that he was being +ousted from his rights. + +"Yes, an' Buck carried you to home, an' rode in fer the doc, an' had +you fixed right," cried Abe. + +Ike looked round indignantly. + +"Say, is youse fellers makin' this big talk or me? ain't yearnin', if +any feller's lookin' fer glory." + +His challenge was received with a chorus of laughter. + +"You're doin' fine," cried the Kid. + +Ike favored the speaker with a contemptuous stare and returned to his +work. He shrugged. + +"They ain't no account anyway, missie," he assured her, "guess they're +sore. Wal, y' see you come along in the storm, an' what should happen +but the side o' Devil's Hill drops out, an' sets gold rollin' around +like--like taters fallin' through a rotten sack. 'Gold?' sez we, an' +gold it is. 'Who bro't us sech luck?' we asts. An' ther' it is right +ther', so ther' can't be no mistake. Jest a pore, sick gal wi' red +ha'r, all beat to hell an'----" + +"Gee, ain't it beautiful!" sneered Curly. + +Soapy pretended to weep, and Abe thumped him heavily on the back. + +"Cheer up, Kid," he grinned. "'Tain't as bad as it seems. Ike'll feel +better after he's had his vittles." + +Pete sniggered. + +"Ain't he comic?" he cried. Then, seizing the opportunity, while Ike +turned round to retort he hustled him aside and usurped his place. + +"Say, missie, it's jest this, you're the Golden Woman who bro't us our +luck. Some of us ain't got your name right, nor nuthin'. Anyway that +don't figger nuthin'. We ain't had no luck till you come along, so +you're jest our Golden Woman, an' we're goin' to hand you----" + +Joan started back as though the man had struck her. Her beautiful +cheeks went a ghastly pallor. + +"No--no!" she cried half-wildly. + +"And why for not?" demanded Pete. + +"But my name is Joan," she cried, a terrible dread almost overpowering +her. "You see 'Golden' isn't my real name," she explained, without +pausing to think. "That's only a nickname my father ga--gave me. I--I +was christened 'Joan.'" + +Pete slapped his thigh heavily, and a great grin spread over his face. + +"Say, don't it beat the band?" he cried in wild delight. "Don't it?" +he repeated, appealing to the world at large. "'Golden.' That's her +name, an' we only hit on it cos she's got gold ha'r, an' bro't us +gold. An' all the time her pa used to call her 'Golden.' Can you beat +it?" Then he looked into Joan's face with admiring eyes. "Say, missie, +that's your name for jest as long as you stop around this layout. +That's her name, ain't it, boys?" He appealed to the crowd. "Here, +give it her good an' plenty, boys. Hooray for the 'Golden Woman'!" + +Instantly the air was filled with a harsh cheering that left the girl +almost weeping in her terror and misery. But the men saw nothing of +the effect of their good-will. They were only too glad to be able to +find such an outlet to their feelings. When the cheering ceased Pete +thrust out an arm toward her. His palm was stretched open, and lying +on it was the great yellow nugget that the Padre had found--the first +find of the "strike." + +"That's it, missie," he cried, his wild eyes rolling delightedly. +"Look right ther'. That's fer you. The Padre found it, an' it's his +to give, an' he sent it to you. That's the sort o' luck you bro't us." + +The crowd closed in with necks craning to observe the wonderful nugget +of gold; to the finding of its kind their lives were devoted. Beasley +was at Pete's elbow, the greediest of them all. + +"It wasn't no scrapin' an' scratchin' luck," the enthusiastic Pete +hurried on. "It was gold in hunks you bro't us." + +Beasley's eyes lit, and Buck, watching closely, edged in. + +"It's a present to you, missie," Pete went on. "That's wot we come +for. Jest to hand you that nugget. Nigh sixty ounces solid gold, an' +the first found at this yer camp." + +Balanced on his hand he thrust it farther out for the girl to take, +but she shrank back. Beasley saw the movement and laughed. He pointed +at it and leered up into her face. + +"You're sure right," he cried. "Don't you touch it. Jest look at it. +Say, can't you fellers see, or are you blind? She ain't blind. She can +see. She's seen wot's ther'. It's a death's head. Gold? Gee, I tell +you it's a death's head! Look at them eye-sockets," he cried, pointing +at the curious moulding of the nugget. "Ther's the nose bones, an' the +jaw. Look at them teeth, too, all gold-filled, same as if a dentist +had done 'em." He laughed maliciously. "It's a dandy present fer a +lady. A keepsake!" + +The men were crowding to see the markings which Beasley pointed out. +They were quite plain. They were so obvious that something like horror +lit the superstitious faces. Beasley, watching, saw that he had made +his point, so he hurried on-- + +"Don't you touch it, miss," he cried gleefully, as though he +thoroughly enjoyed delivering his warning. "It's rotten luck if you +do. That gold is Devil's gold. It's come from Devil's Hill, in a +Devil's storm. It's a death's head, an' there's all the trouble in the +world in it. There's----" + +His prophecy remained uncompleted. He was suddenly caught by a +powerful hand, and the next instant he found himself swung to the +outskirts of the crowd with terrific force. + +In a furious rage he pulled himself together just in time to see Buck, +pale with anger, seize the nugget from Pete's outstretched palm. + +"You don't need to worry with the trouble in that gold," he said with +biting coldness, raising it at arm's length above his head. + +Then before any one was aware of his intention he flung it with all +his force upon the flagstone at Joan's feet. Quickly he stooped and +picked it up again, and again flung it down with all his strength. He +repeated the process several times, and finally held it out toward the +troubled girl. + +"You ken take it now," he said, his whole manner softening. "Guess +Beasley's 'death's head' has gone--to its grave. Ther' ain't no sort +o' trouble can hurt any, if--you only come down on it hard enough. The +trouble ain't in that gold now, only in the back of Beasley's head. +An' when it gets loose, wal--I allow there's folks around here won't +see it come your way. You can sure take it now." + +Joan reached out a timid hand, while her troubled violet eyes looked +into Buck's face as though fascinated. The man moved a step nearer, +and the small hand closed over the battered nugget. + +"Take it," he said encouragingly. "It's an expression of the good +feelings of the boys. An' I don't guess you need be scared of _them_." + +Joan took the gold, but there was no smile in her eyes, no thanks on +her lips. She stepped back to her doorway and passed within. + +"I'm tired," she said, and her words were solely addressed to Buck. He +nodded, while she closed the door. Then he turned about. + +"Wal!" he said. + +And his manner was a decided dismissal. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CALL OF YOUTH + + +The fur fort was a relic of ancient days, when the old-time traders of +the North sent their legions of pelt hunters from the far limits of +the northern ice-world to the sunny western slopes of the great +American continent. It was at such a place as this, hemmed in amidst +the foot-hills, that they established their factor and his handful of +armed men; lonely sentries at the gates of the mountain world, to levy +an exorbitant tax upon the harvest of furs within. + +Here, within the ponderous stockade, now fallen into sore decay, +behind iron-bound doors secured by mighty wooden locks, and barred +with balks of timber, sheltered beneath the frowning muzzles of half a +dozen futile carronades, they reveled in obscene orgies and committed +their barbaric atrocities under the name of Justice and Commerce. Here +they amassed wealth for the parent companies in distant lands, and +ruthlessly despoiled the wild of its furry denizens. + +These were the pioneers, sturdy savages little better than the red man +himself, little better in their lives than the creatures upon which +they preyed. But they were for the most part men, vigorous, dauntless +men who not only made history, but prepared the way for those who were +to come after, leaving them a heritage of unsurpassable magnificence. + +Now, this old-time relic afforded a shelter for two lonely men, whose +only emulation of their predecessors was in the craft that was theirs. +In all else there remained nothing in common, unless it were that +common asset of all pioneers, a sturdy courage. They certainly lacked +nothing of this. But whereas the courage of their predecessors, +judging them by all historical records, in quality belonged largely to +the more brutal side of life, these men had no such inspiration. Their +calling was something in the nature of a passionate craving for the +exercise of wits and instincts in a hard field where the creatures of +the wild meet the human upon almost equal terms. + +Isolation was nothing new to these men. The remotenesses of the back +world had been their life for years. They understood its every mood, +and met them with nerves in perfect tune. The mountains filled their +whole outlook. They desired nothing better, nothing more. + +Yet it seemed strange that this should be. For the Padre had not +always lived beyond the fringes of civilization. He was a man of +education, a man of thought and even culture. These things must have +been obvious to the most casual observer. In Buck's case it was easier +to understand. He had known no other life than this. And yet he, too, +might well have been expected to look askance at a future lost to all +those things which he knew to lay beyond. Was he not at the threshold +of life? Were not his veins thrilling with the rich, red tide of +youth? Were not all those instincts which go to make up the sum of +young human life as much a part of him as of those others who haunted +the banks of Yellow Creek? The whole scheme was surely unusual. The +Padre's instinct was to roam deeper and deeper into the wild, and +Buck, offered his release from its wondrous thrall, had refused it. + +Thus they embraced this new home. The vast and often decaying timbers, +hewn out of the very forests they loved, cried out with all the old +associations they bore and held them. The miniature citadel contained +within the trenchant stockade, the old pelt stores, roofless and +worm-eaten, the armory which still suggested the clank of half-armored +men, who lived only for the joy of defying death. The factor's house, +whence, in the days gone by, the orders for battle had been issued, +and the sentence of life and death had been handed out with scant +regard for justice. Then there were the ruined walls of the +common-room, where the fighting men had caroused and slept. The scenes +of frightful orgies held in this place were easy to conjure. All these +things counted in a manner which perhaps remained unacknowledged by +either. But nevertheless they were as surely a part of the lure as the +chase itself, with all its elemental attraction. + +They had restored just as much of the old factor's house as they +needed for their simple wants. Two rooms were all they occupied, two +rooms as simple and plain as their own lives. Buck had added a new +roof of logs and clay plaster. He had set up two stretchers with +straw-stuffed paillasses for beds. He had manufactured a powerful +table, and set it upon legs cut from pine saplings. To this he had +added the removal of a cook-stove and two chairs, and their own +personal wardrobe from the farm, and so the place was complete. Yet +not quite. There was an arm rack upon the wall of the living-room, an +arm rack that had at one time doubtless supported the old flintlocks +of the early fur hunters. This he had restored, and laden it with +their own armory and the spare traps of their craft; while their only +luxury was the fastening up beside the doorway of a frameless +looking-glass for shaving purposes. + +They required a place to sleep in, a place in which to store their +produce, a place in which to break their fast and eat their meal at +dusk. Here it lay, ready to their hand, affording them just these +simple necessities, and so they adopted it. + +But the new life troubled the Padre in moments when he allowed himself +to dwell upon the younger man's future. He had offered him his +release, at the time he had parted with the farm, from a sense of +simple duty. It would have been a sore blow to him had Buck accepted, +yet he would have submitted readily, even gladly, for he felt that +with the passing of the farm out of their hands he had far more +certainly robbed Buck of all provision for his future than he had +deprived himself, who was the actual owner. He felt that in seeking to +help the little starving colony he had done it, in reality, at Buck's +expense. + +Something of this was in his mind as he pushed away from their frugal +breakfast-table. He stood in the doorway filling his pipe, while Buck +cleared the tin plates and pannikins and plunged them into the boiler +of hot water on the stove. + +He leant his stalwart shoulders against the door casing, and stared +out at the wooded valley which crossed the front of the house. Beyond +it, over the opposite rise, he could see the dim outline of the crest +of Devil's Hill several miles away. + +He felt that by rights Buck should be there--somewhere there beyond +the valley. Not because the youngster had any desire for the wealth +that was flowing into the greedy hands of the gold-seekers. It was +simply the thought of a man who knows far more of the world than he +cares to remember. He felt that in all honesty he should point out the +duties of a man to himself in these days when advancement alone +counts, and manhood, without worldly position, goes for so very +little. He was not quite sure that Buck didn't perfectly understand +these things for himself. He had such a wonderful understanding and +insight. However, his duty was plain, and it was not his way to shrink +from it. + +Buck was sprinkling the earth floor preparatory to sweeping it when +the Padre let his eyes wander back into the room. + +"Got things fixed?" he inquired casually. + +"Mostly." Buck began to sweep with that practiced hand which never +raises a dust on an earthen floor. + +The Padre watched his movements thoughtfully. + +"Seems queer seeing you sweeping and doing chores like a--a hired +girl." He laughed presently. + +Buck looked up and rested on his broom. He smilingly surveyed his +early benefactor and friend. + +"What's worryin'?" he inquired in his direct fashion. + +The Padre stirred uneasily. He knocked the ashes from his pipe and +pressed the glowing tobacco down with the head of a rusty nail. + +"Oh, nothing worrying," he said, turning back to his survey of the +valley beyond the decaying stockade. "The sun'll be over the hilltops +in half an hour," he went on. + +But the manner of his answer told Buck all he wanted to know. He too +glanced out beyond the valley. + +"Yes," he ejaculated, and went on sweeping. A moment later he paused +again. "Guess I can't be out at the traps till noon. Mebbe you ken do +without me--till then?" + +"Sure." The Padre nodded at the valley. Then he added: "I've been +thinking." + +"'Bout that gold strike? 'Bout me? You bin thinkin' I ought to quit +the traps, an'--make good wi' them. I know." + +The elder man turned back sharply and looked into the dark eyes with a +shrewd smile. + +"You generally get what I'm thinking," he said. + +"Guess you're not much of a riddle--to me," Buck laughed, drawing the +moist dust into a heap preparatory to picking it up. + +The Padre laughed too. + +"Maybe you know how I'm feeling about things, then? Y' see there's +nothing for you now but half the farm money. That's yours anyway. It +isn't a pile. Seems to me you ought to be--out there making a big +position for yourself." He nodded in the direction of Devil's Hill. + +"Out of gold?" + +"Why not? It's an opportunity." + +"What for?" Buck inquired, without a semblance of enthusiasm. + +"Why, for going ahead--with other folks." + +Buck nodded. + +"I know. Goin' to a city with a big pile. A big house. Elegant +clothes. Hired servants. Congress. Goin' around with a splash of big +type in the noospapers." + +"That's not quite all, Buck." The man at the door shook his head. "A +man when he rises doesn't need to go in for--well, for vulgar display. +There are a heap of other things besides. What about the intellectual +side of civilization? What about the advancement of good causes? What +about--well, all those things we reckon worth while out here? Then, +too, you'll be marrying some day." + +Buck picked up the dust and carefully emptied it into the blazing +stove. He watched it burn for a moment, and then replaced the round +iron top. + +"Marryin' needs--all those things?" he inquired at last. + +"Well, I wouldn't say that," returned the other quickly. He knew +something was lying behind Buck's quiet manner, and it made him a +little uncomfortable. "Most men find a means of marrying when they +want to--if they're men. Look here," he went on, with a sudden +outburst of simple candor, "I want to be fair to you, and I want you +to be fair to yourself. There's an opportunity over there"--he pointed +with his pipe in the direction of Devil's Hill--"an opportunity to +make a pile, which will help you to take a position in the world. I +don't want you to stay with me from any mistaken sense of gratitude or +duty. It is my lot, and my desire, to remain in these hills. But +you--you've got your life before you. You can rise to the top if you +want to. I know you. I know your capacity. Take your share of the farm +money, and--get busy." + +"An' if I don't want to--get busy?" Buck's dark eyes were alight with +a curious, intense warmth. + +The Padre shrugged and pushed his pipe into the corner of his mouth. + +"There's nothing more to be said," he replied. + +"But ther' is, Padre. There sure is," cried Buck, stepping over to him +and laying one hand on the great shoulder nearest him. "I get all you +say. I've got it long ago. You bin worryin' to say all this since ever +you got back from sellin' the farm. An' it's like you. But you an' me +don't jest figger alike. You got twenty more years of the world than +me, so your eyes look around you different. That's natural. You're +guessin' that hill is an opportunity for me. Wal, I'm guessin' it +ain't. Mebbe it is for others, but not for me. I got my opportunity +twenty years ago, an' you give me that opportunity. I was starvin' to +death then, an' you helped me out. You're my opportunity, an' it makes +me glad to think of it. Wher' you go I go, an' when we both done, why, +I guess it won't be hard to see that what I done an' what you done was +meant for us both to do. We're huntin' pelts for a livin' now, an' +when the time comes for us to quit it, why, we'll both quit it +together, an' so it'll go on. It don't matter wher' it takes us. Say," +he went on, turning away abruptly. "Guess I'll jest haul the drinkin' +water before I get." + +The Padre turned his quiet eyes on the slim back. + +"And what about when you think of marrying?" he asked shrewdly. + +Buck paused to push the boiler off the stove. He shook his head and +pointed at the sky. + +"Guess the sun's gettin' up," he said. + +The Padre laughed and prepared to depart. + +"Where you off to this morning?" he inquired presently. + +"That gal ain't got a hired man, yet," Buck explained simply, as he +picked up his saddle. Then he added ingenuously, "Y' see I don't guess +she ken do the chores, an' the old woman ain't got time to--for +talkin'." + +The Padre nodded while he bent over the breech of his Winchester. He +had no wish for Buck to see the smile his words had conjured. + +Buck swung his saddle on to his shoulder and passed out of the hut in +the direction of the building he had converted into a barn. And when +he had gone the Padre looked after him. + +"He says she's handsome, with red-gold hair and blue eyes," he +murmured. Then a far-away look stole into his steady eyes, and their +stare fixed itself upon the doorway of the barn through which Buck had +just vanished. "Curious," he muttered. "They've nicknamed her +'Golden,' which happened to be a nickname--her father gave her." + +He stood for some moments lost in thought. Then, suddenly pulling +himself together, he shouldered his rifle and disappeared into the +woods. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A WHIRLWIND VISIT + + +Joan was idling dispiritedly over her breakfast. A long, wakeful night +had at last ended in the usual aching head and eyes ringed with +shadows. She felt dreary, and looked forward drearily to inspecting +her farm--which, in her normal state, would have inspired nothing but +perfect delight--with something like apprehension. + +Her beginning in the new life had been swamped in a series of +disastrous events which left her convinced of the impossibility of +escape from the painful shadow of the past. All night her brain had +been whirling in a perfect chaos of thought as she reviewed her advent +to the farm. There had been nothing, from her point of view, but +disaster upon disaster. First her arrival. Then--why, then the "luck" +of the gold find. In her eyes, what was that but the threat of +disaster to come? Had not her aunt told her that this extraordinary +luck that she must ever bring was part of the curse shadowing her +life? Then the coincidence of her nickname. It was truly hideous. The +very incongruity of it made it seem the most terrible disaster of all. +Surely, more than anything else, it pointed the hand of Fate. It was +her father's nickname for her, and he--he had been the worst sufferer +at her hands. + +The whole thing seemed so hopeless, so useless. What was the use of +her struggle against this hateful fate? A spirit of rebellion urged +her, and she felt half-inclined to abandon herself to the life that +was hers; to harden herself, and, taking the cup life offered her, +drain it to the dregs. Why should she waste her life battling with a +force which seemed all-powerful? Why should she submit to the terror +of it? What were the affairs of these others to her? She was not +responsible. Nothing in the whole sane world of ethics could hold her +responsible. + +The spirit of rebellion, for the moment, obtained the upper hand. She +had youth; Fortune had bestowed a face and figure upon her that she +need not be ashamed of, and a healthy capacity for enjoyment. Then why +should she abandon all these gifts because of a fate for which she was +in no way responsible? + +She pushed back her chair from the table, and crossed to the open +front door. + +The sun was not yet up, and the morning air was dewy and fresh with +perfumes such as she had never experienced in St. Ellis. It was--yes, +it was good to be alive on such a day in spite of everything. + +She glanced out over the little farm--her farm. Yes, it was all hers, +bought and paid for, and she still had money for all her needs and to +do those things she wanted to do. She turned away and looked back into +the little parlor with its simple furnishings, its mannish odds and +ends upon the wall. She heard the sounds of the old housekeeper busy +in her heavy, blundering way with the domestic work of her home. She +had so many plans for the future, and every one in its inception had +given her the greatest delight. Now--now this hideous skeleton had +stepped from its cupboard and robbed her of every joy. No, she would +not stand it. She would steel her heart to these stupid, girlish +superstitions. She would-- + +Her gloomy reflections were abruptly cut short. There was a rush and +clatter. In a perfect whirlwind of haste a horseman dashed up, dragged +his horse back on to its haunches as he pulled up, and flung out of +the saddle. + +It was the boy, Montana Ike. He grabbed his disreputable hat from his +ginger head, and stared agape at the vision of loveliness he had come +in search of. + +"Good--good-morning," Joan said, hardly knowing how to greet this +strange apparition. + +The boy nodded, and moistened his lips as though consumed by a sudden +thirst. + +For a moment they stared stupidly at each other. Then Joan, feeling +the awkwardness of the situation, endeavored to relieve it. + +"Daylight?" she exclaimed interrogatively, "and you not yet out at +the--where the gold is?" + +Ike shook his head and grinned the harder. Then his tongue loosened, +and his words came with a sudden rush that left the girl wondering. + +"Y' see the folks is eatin' breakfast," he said. "Y' see I jest cut it +right out, an' come along. I heard Pete--you know Blue Grass +Pete--he's a low-down Kentuckian--he said he tho't some un orter git +around hyar case you was queer after last night. Sed he guessed he +would. Guess I'll git back 'fore they're busy. It'll take 'em all +hustlin' to git ahead o' me." + +"That's very kind," Joan replied mechanically. But the encouragement +was scarcely needed. The boy rushed on, like a river in flood time. + +"Oh, it ain't zac'ly kind!" he said. "Y' see they're mostly a low-down +lot, an' Pete's the low-downest. He's bad, is Pete, an' ain't no +bizness around a leddy. Then Beasley Melford. He's jest a durned skunk +anyways. Don't guess Curly Saunders ain't much account neither. He +makes you sick to death around a whisky bottle. Abe Allinson, he's +sort o' mean, too. Y' see Abe's Slaney Dick's pardner, an' they bin +workin' gold so long they ain't got a tho't in their gray heads 'cept +gold an' rot-gut rye. Still, they're better'n the Kid. The Kid's soft, +so we call him Soapy. Guess you orter know 'em all right away. Y' see +it's easy a gal misbelievin' the rights o' folks." + +Joan smiled. Something of the man's object was becoming plain. + +She studied his face while he was proceeding to metaphorically nail up +each of these men's coffins, and the curious animal alertness of it +held her interest. His eyes were wide and restless, and a hardness +marked the corners of his rather loose mouth. She wondered if that +hardness were natural, or whether it had been acquired in the +precarious life that these people lived. + +"It's just as well to know--everybody," she said gently. + +"Oh, it sure is, in a country like this," the man went on confidently. +"That's why I come along. Fellers chasin' gold is a hell of a bad +outfit. Y' see, I ain't bin long chasin' gold, an' I don't figger to +keep at it long neither. Y' see, I got a good claim. Guess it's sure +the best. We drew lots for 'em last night. It was the Padre fixed that +up. He's a great feller, the Padre. An' I got the best one--wher' the +Padre found that nugget you got. Oh, I'm lucky--dead lucky! Guess +I'll git a pile out o' my claim, sure. A great big pile. Then I'm +goin' to live swell in a big city an' have a great big outfit of folks +workin' fer me. An' I'll git hooked up with a swell gal. It'll be a +bully proposition. Guess the gal'll be lucky, cos I'll have such a big +pile." + +The youngster's enthusiasm and conceit were astounding. Nor could Joan +help the coldness they inspired in her voice. + +"She will be lucky--marrying you," she agreed. "But--aren't you afraid +you'll miss something if the others get out to the hill before you? I +mean, they being such a bad lot." + +The man became serious for a second before he answered. Then, in a +moment, his face brightened into a grin of confidence. + +"Course you can't trust 'em," he said, quite missing Joan's desire to +be rid of him. "But I don't guess any of 'em's likely to try monkey +tricks. Guess if any feller robbed me I'd shoot him down in his +tracks. They know that, sure. Oh, no, they won't play no monkey +tricks. An' anyway, I ain't givin' 'em a chance." + +He moved toward his horse and replaced the reins over its neck in +spite of his brave words. Joan understood. She saw the meanness +underlying his pretended solicitation for her well-being. All her sex +instincts were aroused, and she quite understood the purpose of the +somewhat brutal youth. + +"You're quite right to give them no chances," she said coldly. "And +now, I s'pose, you're going right out to your claim?" + +"I am that," exclaimed the other, with a gleam of cupidity in his +shifty eyes. "I'm goin' right away to dig lumps of gold fer to buy +di'monds fer that gal." + +He laughed uproariously at his pleasantry as he leapt into the saddle. +But in a moment his mirth had passed, and his whole expression +suddenly hardened as he bent down from the saddle. + +"But ef Pete comes around you git busy an' boot him right out. Pete's +bad--a real bad un. He's wuss'n Beasley. Wal, I won't say he's wuss. +But he's as bad. Git me?" + +Joan nodded. She had no alternative. The fellow sickened her. She had +been ready to meet him as one of these irresponsible people, ignorant, +perhaps dissipated, but at least well-meaning. But here she found the +lower, meaner traits of manhood she thought were only to be found +amongst the dregs of a city. It was not a pleasant experience, and she +was glad to be rid of him. + +"I think I understand. Good-bye." + +"You're a bright gal, you sure are," the youth vouchsafed cordially. +"I guessed you'd understand. I like gals who understand quick. That's +the sort o' gal I'm goin' to hitch up with." He grinned, and crushed +his hat well down on his head. "Wal, so long. See you ag'in. Course I +can't git around till after I finish on my claim. Guess you won't feel +lonesome tho', you got to git your farm fixed right. Wal, so long." + +Joan nodded as the man rode off, thankful for the termination of his +vicious, whirlwind visit. Utterly disgusted, she turned back to the +house to find Mrs. Ransford standing in the doorway. + +"What's he want?" the old woman demanded in her most uncompromising +manner. + +The girl laughed mirthlessly. + +"I think he wants a little honesty and kindliness knocked into his +very warped nature," she declared, with a sigh. + +"Warped? Warped?" The old woman caught at the word, and it seemed to +set her groping in search of adequate epithets in which to express her +feelings. "I don't know what that means. But he's it anyways--they all +are." + +And she vanished again into the culinary kingdom over which she +presided. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CLAIMS OF DUTY + + +Half an hour later Joan left the house for the barn. + +In that brief space she had lived through one of those swiftly-passing +epochs in human life when mind, heart and inclination are brought into +something approaching actual conflict. But, stern as the fight with +weakness had been, she had emerged chastened and victorious. +Realization had come to her--realization of whither her troubles had +been leading her. She knew she must not abandon herself to the +selfishness which her brief rebellion had prompted. She was young, +inexperienced, and of a highly-sensitive temperament, but she was not +weak. And it was this fact which urged her now. Metaphorically +speaking, she had determined to tackle life with shirt sleeves rolled +up. + +She knew that duty was not only duty, but something which was to yield +her a measure of happiness. She knew, too, that duty was not only to +be regarded from a point of view of its benefit to others. There +was a duty to oneself--which must not be claimed for the sin of +selfishness--just as surely as to others; that in its thoroughness of +performance lay the secret of all that was worth having in life, and +that the disobedience of the laws of such duty, the neglect of them, +was to outrage the canons of all life's ethics, and to bring down upon +the head of the offender the inevitable punishment. + +She must live her life calmly, honestly, whatever the fate hanging +over her. That was the first and most important decision she arrived +at. She must not weakly yield to panic inspired by superstitious +dread. To do so was, she felt, to undermine her whole moral being. She +must ignore this shadow, she must live a life that defied its power. +And when the cloud grew too black, if that method were not sufficient +to dispel it, she must appeal for alleviation and support from that +Power which would never deny its weak and helpless creatures. She knew +that human endurance of suffering was intended to be limited, and that +when that limit was honestly reached support was still waiting for the +sufferer. + +Thus she left the house in a chastened spirit, and once more full of +youthful courage. The work, the new life she had chosen for herself, +must fill every moment of her waking hours. And somehow she felt that +with her stern resolve had come a foretaste of that happiness she +demanded of life. Her spirits rose as she neared the barn, and a wild +excitement filled her as she contemplated a minute inspection of her +belongings and her intention to personally minister to their wants. + +Something of the instinct of motherhood stirred in her veins at the +thought. These were hers to care for--hers to attend and "do" for. She +laughed as she thought of the family awaiting her. What a family. Yes, +why not? These creatures were for the guardianship of the human race. +With all their physical might they were helpless dependents on human +aid. Yes, they must be thought for and cared for. They were her +family. And she laughed again. + +The barn was a sturdy building. Nor was it unpicturesque with its +solid, dovetailed lateral logs and heavy thatched roof. She saw that +it was built with the same care and finish as the house that was now +her home. She could not help wondering at the manner of man who had +designed and built it. She saw in it such deliberateness, such skill. +There was nothing here of the slap-dash prairie carpenter she had read +of--the man who flung up buildings simply for the needs of the moment. +These were buildings that might last for ages and still retain all +their original weather-proof comfort for the creatures they sheltered. +She felt pleased with this man Moreton Kenyon. + +She passed round the angle of the building to the doorway, and paused +for a moment to admire the scheme of the farm. Every building fronted +on a largish open space, which was split by the waters of Yellow +Creek, beyond which lay the corrals. Here was forethought. The +operative part of the farm was hidden from the house, and every detail +of it was adjacent one to another. There was the wagon shed with a +wagon in it, and harvesting implements stabled in perfect order. There +were the hog-pens, the chicken-houses; the sheds for milch cows. There +was the barn and the miniature grain store; then, across the creek, a +well, with accompanying drinking-trough, corrals with lowing kine in +them; a branding cage. And beyond these she could see a vista of +fenced pastures. + +As she stood reveling in the survey of her little possession the +thought recurred to her that this was hers, all hers. It was the home +of her family, and she laughed still more happily as she passed into +the barn. + +Pushing the door open she found herself greeted in the half-light by a +chorus of equine whinnying such as she had never before experienced, +and the sound thrilled her. There stood the team of great Clydesdale +horses, their long, fiddle heads turned round staring at her with +softly inquiring eyes. She wanted to cry out in her joy, but, +restraining herself, walked up beside the nearest of them and patted +its glossy sides. Her touch was a caress which more than gave +expression to her delight. + +Those were precious moments to Joan. They were so precious, indeed, +that she quite forgot the purpose which had brought her there. She +forgot that it was hers to tend and feed these great, helpless +creatures. It was enough for her to sit on the swinging bail between +the stalls, and revel in the gentle nuzzling of two velvety noses. In +those first moments her sensations were unforgettable. The joy of it +all held her in its thrall, and, for the moment at least, there was +nothing else in the world. + +The moments passed unheeded. Every sound was lost to her. And so it +came about that she did not hear the galloping of a horse approaching. +She did not hear it come to a halt near by. She did not even notice +the figure that presently filled the doorway. And only did her first +realization of the intrusion come with the pleasant sound of a man's +deep voice. + +"Bob an' Kitty's kind o' friendly, Miss Joan," it said. + +The girl turned with a jump and found herself confronted by Buck's +smiling face. And oddly enough her first flash of thought was that +this man had used her own name, and not her nickname, and she was +grateful to him. + +Then she saw that he had the fork in his hand with which she had first +seen him, and she remembered his overnight promise to do those very +things for her which she had set out to do, but, alas! had forgotten +all about. + +His presence became a reproach at once, and a slight pucker of +displeasure drew her even brows together. + +"You're very kind," she began, "but----" + +Buck's smile broadened. + +"'But's' a ter'ble word," he said. "It most always goes ahead of +something unpleasant." He quietly laid the fork aside, and, gathering +an armful of hay, proceeded to fill Kitty's manger. "Now what +you wer' going to say was something like that old--I mean your +housekeeper--said, only you wouldn't say it so mean. You jest want to +say I'm not to git around doing the chores here for the reason you +can't accept favors, an' you don't guess it would be right to offer me +pay, same as a 'hired' man." + +He hayed Bob's manger, and then loosened both horses' collar chains. + +"If you'll sit on the oat-box I'll turn 'em round an' take 'em to +water at the trough. That's it." + +Joan obeyed him without a word, and the horses were led out. And while +they were gone the girl was left to an unpleasant contemplation of the +situation. She determined to deal with the matter boldly, however, and +began the moment he returned. + +"You're quite right, Mr. Buck," she began. + +"Buck--jest plain Buck," he interrupted her. "But I hadn't jest +finished," he went on deliberately. "I want to show you how you can't +do those things the old--your housekeeper was yearnin' to do. Y' see, +you can't get a 'hired' man nearer than Leeson Butte. You can't get +him in less'n two weeks. You can't do the chores yourself, an' that +old--your housekeeper ain't fit to do anything but make hash. Then you +can't let the stock go hungry. Besides all of which you're doing me a +real kindness letting me help you out. Ther's no favor to you. It's +sure to me, an' these creatures which can't do things for themselves. +So it would be a sound proposition to cut that 'but' right out of our +talk an' send word to your lawyer feller in Leeson Butte for a 'hired' +man. An' when he gits around, why--well, you won't be needin' me." + +All the time he was speaking his fork was busy clearing the stalls of +their litter, and, at the finish, he leant on the haft of it and +quizzically smiled into the girl's beautiful, half-troubled face. + +Joan contemplated protesting, but somehow his manner was so friendly, +so frank and honest, that she felt it would be ungracious of her. +Finally he won the day, and she broke into a little laugh of yielding. + +"You talk too--too well for me," she cried. "I oughtn't to accept," +she added. "I know I oughtn't, but what am I to do? I can't do--these +things." Then she added regretfully: "And I thought it would be all so +simple." + +Buck saw her disappointment, and it troubled him. He felt in a measure +responsible, so he hastened to make amends. + +"Wal, y' see, men are rough an' strong. They can do the things needed +around a farm. I don't guess women wer' made for--for the rough work +of life. It ain't a thing to feel mean about. It's jest in the nature +of things." + +Joan nodded. All the time he was speaking she had been studying him, +watching the play of expression upon his mobile features rather than +paying due attention to his words. + +She decided that she liked the look of him. It was not that he +was particularly handsome. He seemed so strong, and yet so--so +unconcerned. She wondered if that were only his manner. She knew that +often volcanic natures, reckless, were hidden under a perfect calm. +She wondered if it were so in his case. His eyes were so full of a +brilliant dark light. Yes, surely this man roused might be an +interesting personality. She remembered him last night. She remembered +the strange, superheated fire in those same eyes when he had hurled +the gold at her feet. Yes, she felt sure a tremendous force lay behind +his calmness of manner. + +The man's thoughts were far less analytical. His was not the nature to +search the psychology of a beautiful girl. To him Joan was the most +wonderful thing on earth. She was something to be reverenced, to be +worshipped. His imagination, fired by all his youthful impulse, +endowed her with every gift that the mind of simple manhood could +conceive, every virtue, every beauty of mind as well as body. + +Joan watched him for some moments as he continued his work. It was +wonderful how easy he made it seem, how quickly it was done. She even +found herself regretting that in a few minutes the morning "chores" +would be finished, and this man would be away to--where? + +"You must have been up very early to get over here," she said +designedly. Her girlish curiosity and interest could no longer be +denied. She must find out what he was and what he did for a living. + +"I'm mostly up early," he replied simply. + +"Yes, of course. But--you have your own--stock to see to?" + +She felt quite pleased with her cunning. But her pleasure was +short-lived. + +"Sure," he returned, with disarming frankness. + +"It really doesn't seem fair that you should have the double work," +she went on, with another attempt to penetrate his reserve. + +Buck's smile was utterly baffling. He walked to the door of the barn +and gave a prolonged, low whistle. Then he came back. + +"It sure wouldn't be fair if I didn't," he said simply. + +"But you must have heaps to do on your--farm," Joan went on, feeling +that she was on the right track at last "Look at what you're doing for +me. These horses, the cattle, the--the pigs and things. I've no doubt +you have much more to see to of your own." + +At that moment the head of Caesar appeared in the doorway. He stared +round the familiar stable evidently searching for his master. Finally +catching sight of him, he clattered in to the place and rubbed his +handsome head against Buck's shoulder. + +"This is my stock," Buck said, affectionately rubbing the creature's +nose. "An' I generally manage to see to him while the kettle's boilin' +for breakfast." + +Just for a moment Joan felt abashed at her deliberate attempt to pump +her companion. Then the quick, inquiring survey of the beautiful horse +was too much for her, and she left her seat to join in the caresses. + +"Isn't he a beauty?" she cried, smoothing his silken face from the +star on his forehead to the tip of his wide muzzle. + +Just for a second her hand came into contact with the man's, and, all +unconscious, she let it remain. Then suddenly realizing the position +she drew it away rather sharply. + +Buck made no move, but had she only looked up she must have noted the +sudden pallor of his face. That brief touch, so unconscious, so +unmeaning, had again set his pulses hammering through his body. And it +had needed all his control to repress the fiery impulse that stirred +him. He longed to kiss that soft white hand. He longed to take it in +his own strong palms and hold it for his own, to keep it forever. But +the moment passed, and when he spoke it was in the same pleasant, easy +fashion. + +"I kind o' thought I ought to let him go with the farm," he said, +"only the Padre wouldn't think of it. He'd have made a dandy feller +for you to ride." + +But Joan was up in arms in a moment. + +"I'd never have forgiven you if you'd parted with him," she cried. +"He's--he's perfectly beautiful." + +Buck nodded. + +"He's a good feller." And his tone said far more than his words. + +He led the beast to the door, and, giving him an affectionate slap, +sent him trotting off. + +"I must git busy," he said, with a laugh. "The hay needs cuttin'. +Guess I'll cut till dinner. After that I've got to quit till sundown. +I'll go right on cuttin' each mornin' till your 'hired' man comes +along. Y' see if it ain't cut now we'll be too late. I'll just throw +the harness on Kitty an' Bob an' leave 'em to git through with their +feed while I see the hogs fed. Guess that old--your housekeeper can +milk? I ran the cows into the corral as I came up. Seems to me she +could do most things she got fixed on doing." + +Joan laughed. + +"She was 'fixed' on sending you about what she called 'your +business,'" she said slyly. + +Buck raised his brows in mock chagrin. + +"Guess she succeeded, too. I sure got busy right away--until you come +along, and--and got me quittin'." + +"Oh!" Joan stared at him with round eyes of reproach. Then she burst +out laughing. "Well, now you shall hear the truth for that, and you'll +have to answer me too, Mr. Buck." + +"Buck--jest plain Buck." + +The girl made an impatient little movement. + +"Well, then, 'Buck.' I simply came along to thank you, and to tell you +that I couldn't allow your help--except as a 'hired' man. And--I'm +afraid you'll think me very curious--I came to find out who you were, +and how you came to find me and bring me home here. And--and I wanted +to know--well, everything about my arrival. And you--you've made it +all very difficult. You--insist on doing all this for me. +You're--you're not so kind as I thought." + +Joan's complaint was made half-laughingly and half-seriously. Buck saw +the reality underlying her words, but determined to ignore it and only +answer her lighter manner. + +"If you'd only asked me these things I'd have told you right away," he +protested, smiling. "Y' see you never asked me." + +"I--I was trying to," Joan said feebly. + +Buck paused in the act of securing Kitty's harness. + +"That old--your housekeeper wouldn't ha' spent a deal of time trying," +he said dryly. + +Joan ignored the allusion. + +"I don't believe you intend to tell me now," she said. + +Buck left the stall and stood before the corn-box. His eyes were still +smiling though his manner was tremendously serious. + +"You're wantin' to know who I am," he said. Then he paused, glancing +out of the doorway, and the girl watched the return of that thoughtful +expression which she had come to associate with his usual manner. +"Wal," he said at last, in his final way, "I'm Buck, and I was picked +up on the trail-side, starving, twenty years ago by the Padre. He's +raised me, an' we're big friends. An' now, since we sold his farm, +we're living at the old fur fort, back ther' in the hills, and we're +goin' to get a living pelt hunting. I've got no folks, an' no name +except Buck. I was called Buck. All I can remember is that my folks +were farmers, but got burnt out in a prairie fire, and--burnt to +death. That's why I was on the trail starving when the Padre found +me." + +Joan's eyes had softened with a gentle sympathy, but she offered no +word. + +"'Bout the other," the man went on, turning back to the girl, and +letting his eyes rest on her fair face, "that's easy, too. I was at +the shack of the boys in the storm. You come along an' wer' lying +right ther' on the door-sill when I found you. I jest carried you +right here. Y' see, I guessed who you wer'. Your cart was wrecked on +the bank o' the creek----" + +"And the teamster?" Joan's eyes were eagerly appealing. + +Buck turned away. + +"Oh, guess he was ther' too." Then he abruptly moved toward the +horses. "Say, I'll get on an' cut that hay." + +Joan understood. She knew that the teamster was dead. She sighed +deeply, and as the sound reached him Buck looked round. It was on the +tip of his tongue to say some word of comfort, for he knew that Joan +had understood that the man was dead, but the girl herself, under the +influence of her new resolve, made it unnecessary. She rose from her +seat, and her manner suggested a forced lightness. + +"I'll go and feed the chickens," she said. "I--I ought to be capable +of doing that." + +Buck smiled as he prepared to go and see to the hogs. + +"Guess you won't have trouble--if you know what to give 'em," he said. + +Nor was he quite sure if the girl were angry or smiling as she hurried +out of the barn. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +GOLD AND ALLOY + + +The seedling of success planted in rank soil generally develops a +wild, pernicious growth which, until the summer of its life has +passed, is untameable and pollutes all that with which it comes into +contact. The husbandman may pluck at its roots, but the seed is flung +broadcast, and he finds himself wringing his hands helplessly in the +wilderness. + +So it was on the banks of Yellow Creek. The seedling was already +flinging its tendrils and fastening tightly upon the life of the +little camp. The change had come within three weeks of the moment when +the Padre had gazed upon that first wonderful find of gold. So rapid +was its development that it was almost staggering to the man who stood +by watching the result of the news he had first carried to the camp. + +The Padre wandered the hills with trap and gun. Nothing could win him +from the pursuit which was his. But his eyes were wide open to those +things which had somehow become the care of his leisure. Many of his +evenings were spent in the camp, and there he saw and heard the things +which, in his working moments, gave him food for a disquietude of +thought. + +He knew that the luck that had come to the camp was no ordinary luck. +His first find had suggested something phenomenal, but it was nothing +to the reality. A wealth almost incalculable had been yielded by a +prodigal Nature. Every claim into which he, with the assistance of the +men of the camp, had divided the find, measured carefully and balloted +for, was rich beyond all dreams. Two or three were richer than the +others, but this was the luck of the ballot, and the natural envy +inspired thereby was of a comparatively harmless character. + +At first the thought of these things was one of a pleasant +satisfaction. These men had waited, and suffered, and starved for +their chance, and he was glad their chance had come. How many had +waited, and suffered and starved, as they had done, and done all those +things in vain? Yes, it was a pleasant thought, and it gave him zest +and hope in his own life. + +The first days passed in a perfect whirlwind of joy. Where before had +sounded only the moanings of despair, now the banks of Yellow Creek +rang with laughter and joyous voices, bragging, hoping, jesting. One +and all saw their long-dimmed hopes looming bright in the prospect of +fulfilment. + +Then came a change. Just at first it was hardly noticeable. But it +swiftly developed, and the shrewd mind of the watcher in the hills +realized that the days of halcyon were passing all too swiftly. Men +were no longer satisfied with hopes. They wanted realities. + +To want the realities with their simple, unrestrained passions, and +the means of obtaining them at their disposal, was to demand them. To +demand them was to have them. They wanted a saloon. They wanted an +organized means of gambling, they wanted a town, with all its means of +satisfying appetites that had all too long hungered for what they +regarded as the necessary pleasures of life. They wanted a means of +spending the accumulations gleaned from the ample purse of mother +Nature. And, in a moment, they set about the work of possessing these +things. + +As is always the case the means was not far to seek. It needed but one +mind, keener in self-interest than the rest, and that mind was to +hand. Beasley Melford, at no time a man who cared for the physical +hardships of the life of these people, saw his opportunity and +snatched it. He saw in it a far greater gold-mine than his own claim +could ever yield him, and he promptly laid his plans. + +He set to work without any noise, any fuss. He was too foxy to shout +until his purpose was beyond all possibility of failure. He simply +disappeared from the camp for a week. His absence was noted, but no +one cared. They were too full of their own affairs. The only people +who thought on the matter were the Padre and Buck. Nor did they speak +of it until he had been missing four days. Then it was, one evening as +they were returning from their traps, the Padre gave some inkling of +what had been busy in his thoughts all day. + +"It's queer about Beasley," he said, pausing to look back over a great +valley out of which they had just climbed, and beyond which the +westering sun was shining upon the distant snow-fields. + +Buck turned sharply at the sound of his companion's voice. They were +not given to talking much out on these hills. + +"He's been away nigh four days," he said, and took the opportunity of +shifting his burden of six freshly-taken fox pelts and lighting his +pipe. + +The Padre nodded. + +"I think he'll be back soon," he said. Then he added slowly: "It seems +a pity." + +"His coming back?" Buck eyed his companion quickly. + +"Yes." + +"Wher' d'you reckon he's gone?" + +The elder man raised a pair of astonished brows. + +"Why, to Leeson Butte," he said decidedly. Then he went on quietly, +but with neither doubt nor hesitation: "There's a real big change +coming here--when Beasley gets back. These men want drink, they are +getting restless for high play. They are hankering for--for the +flesh-pots they think their gold entitles them to. Beasley will give +them all those things when he comes back. It's a pity." + +Buck thought for some moments before he answered. He was viewing the +prospect from the standpoint of his years. + +"They must sure have had 'em anyway," he said at last. + +"Ye--es." + +The Padre understood what was in the other's mind. + +"You see," he went on presently, "I wasn't thinking of that so much. +It's--well, it amounts to this. These poor devils are just working to +fill Beasley's pockets. Beasley's the man who'll benefit by this +'strike.' In a few months the others will be on the road again, going +through all--that they've gone through before." + +"I guess they will," Buck agreed. His point of view had changed. He +was seeing through the older eyes. After that they moved on toward +their home lost in the thoughts which their brief talk had inspired. + +In a few days the Padre's prophecy was fulfilled. Beasley returned +from Leeson Butte at the head of a small convoy. He had contrived his +negotiations with a wonderful skill and foresight. His whole object +had been secrecy, and this had been difficult. To shout the wealth of +the camp in Leeson Butte would have been to bring instantly an +avalanche of adventurers and speculators to the banks of Yellow Creek. +His capital was limited to the small amount he had secretly hoarded +while his comrades were starving, and the gold he had taken from his +claim. The latter was his chief asset not from its amount, but its +nature. Therefore he had been forced to take the leading merchant in +the little prairie city into his confidence, and to suggest a +partnership. This he had done, and a plausible tongue, and the sight +of the wonderful raw gold, had had the effect he desired. The +partnership was arranged, the immediate finance was forthcoming, and, +for the time at least, Leeson Butte was left in utter ignorance of its +neighboring Eldorado. + +Once he had made his deal with Silas McGinnis, Beasley promptly opened +his heart in characteristic fashion. + +"They're all sheep, every one of 'em," he beamed upon his confederate. +"They'll be so easy fleecin' it seems hardly worth while. All they +need is liquor, and cards, and dice. Yes, an' a few women hangin' +around. You can leave the rest to themselves. We'll get the gilt, and +to hell with the dough under it. Gee, it's an elegant proposition!" +And he rubbed his hands gleefully. "But ther' must be no delay. We +must get busy right away before folks get wind of the luck. I'll need +marquees an' things until I can get a reg'lar shanty set up. Have you +got a wood spoiler you can trust?" + +McGinnis nodded. + +"Then weight him down with money so we don't need to trust him too +much, and ship him out with the lumber so he can begin right away. +We're goin' to make an elegant pile." + +In his final remark lay the key-note of his purpose. But the truth of +it would have been infinitely more sure had the pronoun been singular. + +Never was so much popularity extended to Beasley in his life as at the +moment of his return to camp. When the gold-seekers beheld his convoy, +with the wagons loaded with all those things their hearts and stomachs +craved, the majority found themselves in a condition almost ready to +fling welcoming arms about his neck. Their wishes had been expressed, +their demands made, and now, here they were fulfilled. + +A rush of trade began almost before the storekeeper's marquee was +erected. It began without regard to cost, at least on the purchasers' +parts. The currency was gold, weighed in scales which Beasley had +provided, and his exorbitant charges remained quite unheeded by the +reckless creatures he had marked down for his victims. + +In twenty-four hours the camp was in high revelry. In forty-eight +Beasley's rough organization was nearing completion. And long before +half those hours had passed gold was pouring into the storekeeper's +coffers at a pace he had never even dreamed of. + +But the first rush was far too strenuous to be maintained for long. +The strain was too great even for such wild spirits as peopled the +camp. It soared to its height with a dazzling rapidity, culminating in +a number of quarrels and fights, mixed up with some incipient +shooting, after which a slight reaction set in which reduced it to a +simmer at a magnificently profitable level for the foxy storekeeper. +Still, there remained ample evidence that the Devil was rioting in the +camp and would continue to do so just as long as the lure of gold +could tempt his victims. + +Then came the inevitable. In a few days it became apparent that the +news of the "strike" had percolated abroad. Beasley's attempt at +secrecy had lasted him just sufficiently long to establish himself as +the chief trader. Then came the rush from the outside. + +It was almost magical the change that occurred in one day. The place +became suddenly alive with strangers from Leeson Butte and Bay Creek, +and even farther afield. Legitimate traders came to spy out the land. +Loafers came in and sat about waiting for developments. Gamblers, +suave, easy, ingratiating, foregathered and started the ball of high +stakes rolling. And in their wake came all that class of carrion which +is ever seeking something for nothing. But the final brand of +lawlessness was set on the camp by the arrival of a number of jaded, +painted women, who took up their abode in a disused shack sufficiently +adjacent to Beasley's store to suit their purposes. It was all very +painful, all very deplorable. Yet it was the perfectly natural +evolution of a successful mining camp--a place where, before the firm +hand of Morality can obtain its restraining grip, human nature just +runs wild. + +The seedling had grown. Its rank tendrils were everywhere reaching out +and choking all the better life about it. Its seeds were scattered +broadcast and had germinated as only such seeds can. It only remained +for the husbandman to gaze regretful and impotent upon his handiwork. +His hand had planted the seedling, and now--already the wilderness was +beyond all control. + +Something of this was in the Padre's mind as he sat in his doorway +awaiting Buck's return for the night. The dusk was growing, and +already the shadows within the ancient stockade were black with +approaching night. The waiting man had forgotten his pipe, so deeply +was he engrossed with his thoughts, and it rested cold in his powerful +hand. + +He sat on oblivious of everything but that chain of calm reasoning +with which he tried to tell himself that the things happening down +there on the banks of the Yellow Creek must be. He told himself that +he had always known it; that the very fact of this lawlessness pointed +the camp's prosperity, and showed how certainly the luck had come to +stay. Later, order would be established out of the chaos, but for the +moment there was nothing to be done but--wait. All this he told +himself, but it left him dissatisfied, and his thoughts concentrated +upon the one person he blamed for all the mischief. Beasley was the +man--and he felt that wherever Beasley might be, trouble would never +be far----What was that? + +An unusual sound had caught and held his attention. He rose quickly +from his seat and stood peering out into the darkness which he had +failed to notice creeping on him. There was no mistaking it. The sound +of running feet was quite plain. Why running? + +He turned about and moved over to the arm rack. The next moment he was +in the doorway again with his Winchester at his side. + +A few moments later a short, stocky man leapt out of the darkness and +halted before him. As the Padre recognized him his finger left the +trigger of his gun. + +"For Gawd's sake don't shoot, Padre!" + +It was Curly Saunders' voice, and the other laid his gun aside. + +"What's amiss?" demanded the Padre, noting the man's painful gasping +for breath. + +For a moment Curly hesitated. Then, finally, between heavy breaths he +answered the challenge. + +"I got mad with the Kid--Soapy," he said. "Guess I shot him up. He +ain't dead an' ain't goin' to die, but Beasley, curse him, set 'em on +to lynch me. They're all mad drunk--guess I was, too, 'fore I started +to run--an' they come hot foot after me. I jest got legs of 'em an' +come along here. It's--it's a mighty long ways." + +The Padre listened without moving a muscle--the story so perfectly +fitted in with his thoughts. + +"The Kid isn't dead? He isn't going to die?" His voice had neither +condemnation nor sympathy in it. + +"No. It's jest a flesh wound on the outside of his thigh." + +"What was the trouble?" + +"Why, the durned young skunk wus jest tryin' to set them--them women +payin' a 'party' call on the gal at the farm, an' they wus drunk +enough to do it. It made me mad--an'--an', wal, we got busy with our +tongues, an' I shot him up fair an' squar'." + +"And how about Beasley?" + +"Why, it was him set the Kid to git the women on the racket. When he +see how I'd stopped it he got madder than hell, an' went right out fer +lynchin' me. The boys wus drunk enough to listen to his lousy talk." + +"Was he drunk?" + +"Not on your life. Beasley's too sweet on the dollars. But I guess +he's got his knife into that Golden Woman of ours." + +The Padre had no more questions to ask. He dropped back into the room +and lit the oil lamp. + +"Come right in, Curly," he said kindly. Then he laid his rifle on the +table and pointed at it. "The magazine's loaded plumb up. Guess no man +has a right to give up his life without a kick. That'll help you if +they come along--which they won't. Maybe Buck'll be along directly. +Don't shoot him down. Anyway he's got Caesar with him--so you'll know. +I'm going down to the camp." + +For a second the two men looked into each other's eyes. The Padre read +the suspicion in Curly's. He also saw the unhealthy lines in his +cheeks and round his mouth. Nor could he help feeling disgusted at the +thoughts of the fortune that had come to the camp and brought all +these hideous changes in its wake. + +He shook his head. + +"I'm not giving you away," he said. "Guess I'll be back in an hour." + +Curly nodded and moved over to one of the two chairs. + +"Thanks, Padre," he said as the other passed quickly out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +TWO POINTS OF VIEW + + +Beasley Melford was in a detestable mood. For one reason his miserable +bar was empty of all customers, and, for another, he knew that he was +responsible for the fact. + +Had he any sense of humor, the absurdity of the thing must have forced +itself upon him and possibly helped to improve his temper. But he had +no humor, and so abandoned himself to the venomous temper that was +practically the mainspring of his life. + +He cursed his absent customers. He cursed the man, Curly Saunders. He +cursed the girl whom the trouble had been about. But more than all he +cursed himself for his own folly in permitting a desire to bait Joan +Rest to interfere with his business. + +In his restless mood he sought to occupy himself, and, nothing else +offering, he cleared his rough counter of glasses, plunged them into a +bucket of filthy water, and set them out to drain. Then he turned his +attention to his two oil lamps. He snuffed them with his dirty fingers +in a vain attempt to improve their miserable light. Then, seating +himself upon his counter, he lit a cheap green cigar and prepared to +wait. + +"Damn 'em all anyway," he muttered comprehensively, and abandoned +himself to watching the hands of a cheap alarm clock creeping on +toward the hour of nine. + +Apparently the soothing influence of his cigar changed the trend of +his thoughts, for presently he began to smile in his own unpleasant +way. He was reviewing the scene which his venom had inspired, and the +possibilities of it--at the moment delayed, but not abandoned--gave +him a peculiar sense of gratification. + +He was thinking, too, of Joan Rest and some others. He was thinking of +the day of her arrival in the camp, and the scene that had followed +Buck's discovery of her. He could never forgive that scene, or those +who took part in it. Buck, more surely than anybody else, he could +never forgive. He had always hated Buck and his friend the Padre. They +had been in a position to hand out benefits to the starving camp, and +patronage was an intolerable insult to a man of his peculiar venom. +The thought that he owed those men anything was anathema to him, for +he knew in his heart that they despised him. + +Since the day of Joan's coming he had pondered upon how he could pay +Buck something of that which he owed him for the insult that still +rankled. He had been called an "outlaw parson," and the truth of the +appellation made the insult only the more maddening. Nothing else +could have hurt the man so much as to remind him of the downfall which +had reduced him to an "outlaw parson." + +He had told Buck then that he would not forget. He might have added +that he could not forget. So, ever since, he had cast about for any +and every means of hurting the man who had injured him, and his +curiously mean mind set him groping in the remotest and more subtle +directions. Nor had it taken him long to locate the most vulnerable +point in Buck's armor. He had realized something of the possibilities +at the first coming of Joan. He had seen then the effect of the +beautiful inanimate body upon the man's susceptibilities. It had been +instantaneous. Then had come that scene at the farm, and Buck's +further insult over the gold which he had hated to see pass into the +girl's possession. It was then that the first glimmer of an opening +for revenge had shown itself to him. + +The rest was the simple matter of camp gossip. Here he learned, +through the ridicule bestowed upon Montana Ike and Pete, who were +always trying to outdo each other in their rivalry for the favors of +Joan, and who never missed an opportunity of visiting the farm when +they knew they would find her there, of Buck's constant attendance +upon Joan. He needed very little of his evil imagination to tell him +the rest. With Buck in love with the woman it was a simple enough +process to his scheming mind to drive home his revenge upon the +man--through her. + +The necessary inspiration had come that night, when the four women +vultures, plying their trade of preying upon the men in his bar, had +reached a sufficient degree of drunkenness. Then it had occurred to +his devilish mind to bribe them into going across to the farm and +paying what he was pleased to call a "party" call upon its mistress, +and, in their own phraseology, to "raise hell with her." + +It was a master stroke. Then had come Curly's interference. The fool +had spoilt it all. Nobody but Curly had attempted to interfere. The +men had all been too drunk to bother, and the women had jumped at the +chance of morally rending a virtuous member of their own sex. + +He laughed silently as he thought of it all. But his laugh only +expressed his gratification at the subtlety of his ideas. His failure +still annoyed him. Curly had stood champion for this Golden Woman, as +they called her. Well, it wasn't his, Beasley's, fault if he hadn't +paid for his interference by this time. The men were quite drunk +enough to hang him, or shoot him for "doing up" young Kid, who had +been a mere tool in the matter. He cordially hoped they had. Anyway, +the sport at Joan's expense was too good to miss, and the night was +still young. + +The prospect almost entirely restored his good-humor, and he was still +smiling when the door was suddenly pushed open and the Padre's burly +figure appeared on the threshold. + +The saloon-keeper's smile died at sight of the familiar white hair. Of +all the people on Yellow Creek this was the man he least wanted to see +at the moment. But he was shrewd enough to avoid any sign of open +antagonism. He knew well enough that Moreton Kenyon was neither a fool +nor a coward. He knew that to openly measure swords with him was to +challenge a man of far superior intellect and strength, and the +issue was pretty sure to go against him. Besides, this man they +affectionately called the Padre had the entire good-will of the place. + +But though he always avoided open antagonism the storekeeper never let +go his grip on his dislike. He clung to it hoping to discover some +means of breaking the man's position in the camp and bringing about an +utter revulsion of the public feeling for him. There was much about +the Padre that gave him food for thought. One detail in particular was +always in his mind, a detail such as a mind like his was bound to +question closely. He could never understand the man's object in the +isolation of the life he had lived for so many years here in the back +country of the West. + +However, he was only concerned at the moment with the object of this +unusual visit, and his shrewd speculation turned upon the pursuit of +Curly. + +"Evenin', Padre," he said, with a cordiality the most exacting could +have found no fault with. + +"Good-evening," replied the newcomer, smiling pleasantly as he glanced +round the sordid hovel. Then he added: "Times are changed, sure. +But--where are your customers?" + +Beasley's quick eyes gazed sharply at the perfect mask of disarming +geniality. He was looking for some sign to give him a lead, but there +was only easy good-nature in the deep gray eyes beneath their shaggy +brows. + +"Guess they're out chasin' that fool-head Curly Saunders," he said +unguardedly. However, he saw his mistake in an instant and tried to +rectify it. "Y' see they're always skylarkin' when they git liquor +under their belts." + +"Skylarking?" The Padre propped himself against the bar, and his eyes +suddenly rested on an ugly stain on the sand floor. + +Beasley followed his glance, and beheld the pool of blood which had +flowed from the Kid's wound. He cursed himself for not having +obliterated it. Then, in a moment, he decided to carry the matter with +a high hand. + +"Psha'! What's the use'n beatin' around!" he said half-defiantly. +"They're chasin' Curly to lynch him for shootin' up the Kid." + +The Padre gave a well-assumed start and emitted a low whistle. Then he +turned directly toward the counter. + +"You best have a drink on me--for the good of the house," he said. +"I'll take rye." + +Beasley swung himself across the counter with a laugh. + +"Say, that beats the devil!" he cried. "I'll sure drink with you. No +one sooner." + +The Padre nodded. + +"Splendid," he smiled. Then as the other passed glasses and the +bottle, he went on: "Tell us about it--the racket, I mean." + +Beasley helped himself to a drink and laughed harshly. + +"Wal, I didn't get it right," he said, raising his glass. "Here's +'how'!" He gulped down his drink and set the empty glass on the +counter. "Y' see, I was handin' out drinks when the racket started. +They were all muckin' around with them four sluts that come in town +the other day. Guess they was all most sloshed to the gills. First +thing I know they were quarreling, then some un got busy with a gun. +Then they started chasin' Curly, an' I see the Kid lying around shot +up. It was jest a flesh wound, an' I had him boosted out to his own +shack. His partner, Pete--they struck a partnership, those two--why, I +guess he's seein' to him. 'Tain't on'y a scratch." + +The Padre set his glass down. He had not drunk his liquor at a gulp +like the other. + +"Pity," he said, his eyes turned again to the blood-stained floor. "I +s'pose it was the women--I mean the cause?" + +The man's manner was so disarming that Beasley felt quite safe in +"opening out." + +"Pity?" he laughed brutally. "Wher's the pity? Course it was the +women. It's always the women. Set men around a bunch of women and +ther's always trouble. It's always been, and it always will be. Ther's +no pity about it I can see. We're all made that way, and those who set +us on this rotten earth meant it so, or it wouldn't be." + +The Padre's gray eyes surveyed the narrow face before him. This man, +with his virulent meanness, his iron-gray hair, his chequered past, +always interested him. + +"And do you think this sort of trouble would occur if--if the men +hadn't been drunk?" he asked pointedly. + +Beasley's antagonism surged, but his outward seeming was perfectly +amiable. + +"Meaning me?" he asked, with a grin. + +The Padre shrugged. + +"I was thinking that these things have been occurring ever since the +camp was flooded with----" + +"Rye!" Beasley's eyes sparkled. He reached the Padre's now empty glass +and gave him a fresh one, pushing the bottle toward him. "You'll hev a +drink on me, an' if you've got time, I'll tell you about this thing." + +The other submitted, and the drink was poured out. The Padre ignored +his. + +"Get right ahead," he said in his easy way. + +Beasley leered over the rim of his glass as he drank his whisky. + +"You think it's rye," he said, setting his glass down with unnecessary +force. "An' I say it's the women--or the woman. Trouble come to this +camp with that tow-headed gal over at the farm. Anybody with two eyes +could see that. Anybody that wasn't as blind as a dotin' mother. The +boys are all mad 'bout her. They're plumb-crazed. They got her +tow-head and sky-blue eyes on their addled brains, an' all the +youngsters, anyway, are fumin' jealous of each other, and ready to +shoot, or do anything else that comes handy, to out the other feller. +That's the root of the trouble--an' you brought that about selling her +your farm." + +Beasley had let himself go intending to aggravate, but the other's +manner still remained undisturbed. + +"But this only happens when they're drunk," he said mildly. + +Beasley's angry impatience broke out. + +"Tcha'! Drunk or sober it don't make any difference. I tell you the +whole camp's on edge over that gal. It only needs a word to set things +hummin'. It's that gal! She's a Jonah, a Hoodoo to us all--to this +place. She's got rotten luck all over her--and you brought her here. +You needn't try an' sling mud at me fer handing them the rot-gut the +boys ask for. Get that woman out of the place and things'll level up +right away." + +The man's rudeness still seemed to have no effect. + +"But all this doesn't seem to fit in with--with this affair to-night," +the Padre argued. "You said it began, you thought, over the four women +you allow in here." + +Beasley was being steadily drawn without knowing it. His swift-rising +spleen led him farther into the trap. + +"So it did," he snapped. Then he laughed mirthlessly. "Y' see some one +suggested those gals pay a 'party' call on your Golden Woman," he said +with elaborate sarcasm. "And it was because Mr. Curly Saunders sort o' +fancies he's got some sort of right to that lady he butted in and shot +up the Kid." + +"Who suggested it?" asked the other quickly, his mild gray eyes +hardening. + +"Why, the Kid." + +The Padre looked the saloon-keeper squarely in the eye. + +"And who put it into that foolish boy's head?" he asked slowly. + +Beasley's face purpled with rage. + +"You needn't to put things that way with me," he cried. "If you got +things to say, say 'em right out. You reckon I was the man who +suggested----" + +"I do." + +The Padre's eyes were wide open. The hard gray gleam literally bored +into the other's heated face. He stood up, his whole body rigid with +purpose. + +"I say right here that you were responsible for it all. The Kid wasn't +capable of inventing such a dirty trick on a decent girl. He was +sufficiently drunk to be influenced by you, and, but for Curly's +timely interference, you would doubtless have had your rotten way. I +tell you the trouble, whatever trouble happens in this camp, is +trouble which you are directly or indirectly responsible for. These +men, in their sober senses, are harmless. Give them the poison you +charge extortionately for and they are ready to do anything. I warn +you, Beasley, to be careful what you do--be damned careful. There are +ways of beating you, and, by thunder! I'll beat you at your own game! +Good-night!" + +The Padre turned and walked out, leaving the discomfited storekeeper +speechless with rage, his narrow eyes glaring after him. + +Moreton Kenyon was never a man to allow an impulse of anger to get the +better of him. All that he had said to Beasley he had made up his mind +to say before starting for the camp. There was only one way of dealing +with the man's genius for mischief. And that way did not lie in the +direction of persuasion or moral talk. Force was the only thing such a +nature as his would yield to. The Padre knew well enough that such +force lay to his command should he choose to exert his influence in +the camp. He was man of the world enough to understand that the moral +condition of the life in this camp must level itself. It could not be +regulated--yet. But the protection of a young and beautiful girl was +not only his duty, but the duty of every sane citizen in the district, +and he was determined it should be carried out. There was no ordinary +law to hold this renegade in check, so, if necessary, he must be +treated to the harshness of a law framed by the unpracticed hands of +men who only understood the wild in which they lived. + +On his way home the Padre encountered Buck, who had been back to the +fur fort, and, learning from Curly the facts of what had occurred, was +now on his way to join his friend. + +They paused to talk for some minutes, and their talk was upon those +things which were still running through their minds in a hot tide of +resentment. After a while they parted, Buck to continue his way to the +camp, and the Padre to his home. + +"I think it's all right for to-night," the Padre said as he prepared +to move off. "I don't think he'll make another attempt. Anyway, the +boys will be sober. But you might have an eye on him." + +Buck nodded, and in the darkness the fierce anger in his dark eyes was +lost to his companion. + +"I'll be to home when the camp's abed," he said. "I'll sure see the +gal safe." + +So they parted, leaving the Padre perfectly confident in Buck's +ability to make good his assurance. + + * * * * * + +It was a wild scene inside the drinking-booth over which the +ex-Churchman presided. The men had returned from their fruitless +pursuit of their intended victim. And as they came in, no longer +furiously determined upon a man's life, but laughing and joking over +the events of their blind journey in the darkness, Beasley saw that +they were rapidly sobering. + +Still raging inwardly at the result of the Padre's visit he set to +work at once, and, before any one else could call for a drink, he +seized the opportunity himself. He plied them with a big drink at his +own expense, and so promptly enlisted their favor--incidentally +setting their appetites for a further orgie with a sharpness that it +would take most of the night to appease. + +The ball set rolling by his cunning hand quickly ran riot, and soon +the place again became the pandemonium which was its nightly habit. +Good-humor was the prevalent note, however. The men realized now, in +their half-sober senses, that the Kid was only wounded, and this +inclined them to leniency toward Curly. So it was quickly evident that +their recently-intended victim need no longer have any fear for his +life. He was forgiven as readily and as easily as he had been +condemned. + +So the night proceeded. The roulette board was set going again in one +corner of the hut and a crowd hung about it, while the two operators +of it, "Diamond" Jack and his partner, strangers to the place, raked +in their harvest. The air was thick with the reek of cheap cigars, +sold at tremendous prices, and the foul atmosphere of stale drink. +The usual process of a further saturation had set in. Nor amidst the +din of voices was there a discordant note. Even the cursings of the +losers at the roulette board were drowned in the raucous din of +laughter and loud-voiced talk around the bar. + +As time went on Beasley saw that his moment was rapidly approaching. +The shining, half-glazed eyes, the sudden outbursts of wild whoopings, +told him the tale he liked to hear. And he promptly changed his own +attitude of bonhomie, and began to remind those who cared to listen of +the fun they had all missed through Curly's interference. This was +done at the same time as he took to pouring out the drinks himself in +smaller quantities, and became careless in the matter of making +accurate change for the bigger bills of his customers. + +Beasley's hints were not long in bearing the fruit he desired. Some +one recollected the women who had been participants in their earlier +frolic, and instantly there was a clamor for their presence. + +Beasley grinned. He was feeling almost joyous. + +The women readily answered the summons. They came garbed in long, +flowing, tawdry wrappers, the hallmark of the lives they lived. Nor +was it more than seconds before they were caught in the whirl of the +orgie in progress. + +The sight was beyond all description in its revolting and hideous +pathos. These blind, besotted men hovered about these wrecks of +womanhood much in the manner of hungry animals. They plied them with +drink, and sought to win their favors by ribald jesting and talk as +obscene as their condition of drunkenness would permit them, while the +women accepted their attentions in the spirit in which they were +offered, calculating, watching, with an eye trained to the highest +pitch of mercenary motive, for the direction whence the greatest +benefit was to come. + +Beasley was watching too. He knew that the Padre's threat had been no +idle one, but he meant to forestall its operation. The Padre was away +to his home by now. Nothing that he could do could operate until the +morning, when these men were sober. He had got this night, at least, +in which to satisfy his evil whim. + +His opportunity came sooner than he expected. One of the girls, quite +a young creature, whose originally-pretty face was now distorted and +bloated by the life she lived, suddenly appealed to him. She jumped up +from the bench on which she had been sitting listening to the drunken +attentions of a stranger who bored her, and challenged the +saloon-keeper with a laugh and an ingratiating wink. + +"Say, you gray-headed old beer-slinger," she cried, "how about that +'party' call you'd fixed up for us? Ain't ther' nuthin' doin' since +that mutt with the thin yeller thatch got busy shootin'? Say, he got +you all scared to a pea shuck." + +She laughed immoderately, and, swaying drunkenly, was caught by the +attentive stranger. + +"Quit it, Mamie," protested one of the other girls. "If you want +another racket I don't. You're always raisin' hell." + +"Quit yourself," shrieked Mamie in sudden anger. "I ain't scared of a +racket." She turned to Beasley, who was pouring out a round of drinks +for Abe Allinson, now so drunk that he had to support himself against +the counter. "Say, you don't need to be scared, that feller's out o' +the way now," she jeered. "Wot say? Guess it would be a 'scream.'" + +Beasley handed the change of a twenty-dollar bill to Abe and turned to +the girl. + +"Sure it would," he agreed promptly, his face beaming. Then he added +cunningly: "But it's you folks are plumb scared." + +"Who the h---- scared of a gal like that?" Mamie yelled at him, her +eyes blazing. "I ain't. Are you, Lulu? You, Kit?" She turned to the +other women, but ignored the protesting Sadie. + +Lulu sprang from the arms of a man on whose shoulder she had been +reclining. + +"Scared?" she cried. "Come right on. I'm game. Beasley's keen to give +her a twistin'--well, guess it's always up to us to oblige." And she +laughed immoderately. + +Kit joined in. She cared nothing so long as she was with the majority. +And it was Beasley himself who finally challenged the recalcitrant +Sadie. + +"Guess you ain't on, though," he said, and there was something like a +threat in his tone. + +Sadie shrugged. + +"It don't matter. If the others----" + +"Bully for you, Sadie!" cried Mamie impulsively. "Come right on! Who's +comin' to get the 'scream'?" she demanded of the men about her, while +Beasley nodded his approval from his stand behind the bar. + +But somehow her general invitation was not received with the same +enthusiasm the occasion had met with earlier in the evening. The +memory of the Kid still hovered over some of the muddled brains, and +only a few of those who were in the furthest stages of drunkenness +responded. + +Nothing daunted, however, the girl Mamie, furiously anxious to stand +well with the saloon-keeper, laughed over at him. + +"We'll give her a joyous time," she shrieked. "Say, what's her name? +Joan Rest, the Golden Woman! She'll need the rest when we're through. +Come on, gals. We'll dance a cancan on her parlor table. Come on." + +She made a move and the others prepared to follow. Several of the men, +laughing recklessly, were ready enough to go whither they led. Already +Mamie was within a pace of the closed door when a man suddenly pushed +Abe Allinson roughly aside, leant his right elbow on the counter, and +stood with his face half-turned toward the crowd. It was Buck. His +movements had been so swift, so well calculated, that Beasley found +himself looking into the muzzle of the man's heavy revolver before he +could attempt to defend himself. + +"Hold on!" + +Buck's voice rang out above the din of the barroom. Instantly he had +the attention of the whole company. The girls stood, staring back at +him stupidly, and the men saw the gun leveled at the saloon-keeper's +head. They saw more. They saw that Buck held another gun in his left +hand, which was threatening the entire room. Most of them knew him. +Some of them didn't. But one and all understood the threat and waited +motionless. Nor did they have to wait long. + +"Gals," said Buck sternly, "this racket's played out. Ther's been +shootin' to-night over the same thing. Wal, ther's going to be more +shootin' if it don't quit right here. If you leave this shanty to go +across to the farm to molest the folks there, Beasley, here, is a dead +man before you get a yard from the door." + +Then his glance shifted so that the saloon-keeper came into his focus, +while yet he held a perfect survey of the rest of the men. + +"Do you get me, Beasley?" he went on coldly. "You're a dead man if +those gals go. An' if you send them to the farm after this--ever--I'll +shoot you on sight. Wal?" + +Beasley knew when he was beaten. He had reckoned only on the Padre. He +had forgotten Buck. However, he wouldn't forget him in the future. + +"You can put up your gun, Buck," he said, with an assumption of +geniality that deceived no one, and Buck least of all. "Quit your +racket, gals," he went on. Then he added with the sarcasm he generally +fell back on in such emergencies: "Guess this gentleman feels the same +as Curly--only he ain't as--hasty." + +The girls went slowly back to their seats, and Buck, lowering his +guns, quietly restored them both to their holsters. + +Beasley watched him, and as he saw them disappear his whole manner +changed. + +"Now, Mister Buck," he said, with a snarl, "I don't guess I need +either your dollars or your company on my premises. You'll oblige +me--that door ain't locked." And he pointed at it deliberately for the +man to take his departure. + +But Buck only laughed. + +"Don't worry, Beasley," he said. "I'm here--till you close up for the +night." + +And the enraged saloon-keeper had a vision of a smile at his expense +which promptly lit the faces of the entire company. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +WHEN LIFE HOLDS NO SHADOWS + + +The mellow evening light glows with a living warmth of color upon +hill, and valley, and plain. The myriad tints shine in perfect +harmony, for Nature is incapable of discord whether in her reign of +beauty or her moments of terror. Discord belongs to the imperfect +human eye, the human brain, the human heart. Thus must the most +perfect human creation be ever imperfect. + +But Nature's perfections are never lost upon the human mind. They are +not intended to be lost. They serve well their purpose of elevating, +of uplifting all thought, and affording inspiration for all that which +is good and beautiful in hearts thrilling with emotions which need +strong support to save them from their own weaknesses. + +Something of this influence was at work in the hearts of a man and a +girl riding over the hard sand trail in the pleasant evening light. +The man's youthful heart was thrilling with a hope he dared not +attempt to define, and could not if he would. His every feeling was +inspired by a joy he had no proper understanding of. The glance of his +dark eyes bespoke his mood, and his buoyancy seemed to communicate +itself to the great horse under him. All he knew was that the glory of +the day was all about him, and, beside him, Joan was riding the +Padre's sturdy horse. + +The girl at his side was no less uplifted. At the moment shadows +troubled her not at all. They were gone, merged into soft, hazy gauzes +through which peeped the scenes of life as she desired life to be, and +every picture was rose-tinted with the wonderful light of an evening +sun. + +Her fair young face was radiant; a wonderful happiness shone in the +violet depths of her eyes. Her sweet lips were parted, displaying her +even, white teeth, and her whole expression was much that of a child +who, for the first time, opens its eyes to the real joy of living. +Every now and again she drew a deep, long sigh of content and +enjoyment. + +For a while they rode in silence, their bodies swaying easily to the +rhythmic gait of the horses. Their direction lay toward the sun, that +direction which ever makes for hope. Ahead of them, and behind them, +lay the forest of tall, garbless trunks, their foliage-crowned, +disheveled heads nodding in the light breezes from the hilltops, which +left the lower atmosphere undisturbed. The scented air, pungent with +pleasant odors, swept them by as their horses loped easily along. It +was a moment of perfect peace, a moment when life could hold no +shadows. + +But such feelings are only for the silent moments of perfect +companionship. The spoken word, which indexes thought, robs them of +half their charm and beauty. The girl felt something of this as the +calm voice of her companion broke the wonderful spell. + +"That feller's shaping well," he said, his thoughts for the moment +evidently upon the practical side of her comfort. + +The girl nodded. That look of rapturous joy had left her, and she too +became practical. + +"I think so--when Mrs. Ransford leaves him alone," she said, with a +little laugh. "She declares it is always necessary to harass a 'hired' +man from daylight to dark. If I were he I'd get out into the pastures, +or hay sloughs, or forest, or somewhere, and stay there till she'd +gone to bed. Really, Buck, she's a terrible woman." + +In the growing weeks of companionship Joan had learned to use this +man's name as familiarly as though she had known him all her life. It +would have seemed absurd to call him anything but Buck now. Besides, +she liked doing so. The name fitted him. "Buck;" it suggested to +her--spirit, independence, courage, everything that was manly; and she +had long ago decided that he was all these things--and more. + +Buck laughed in his quiet fashion. He rarely laughed loudly. Joan +thought it sounded more like a deep-throated gurgle. + +"She sure is," he declared heartily. + +"Of course," Joan smiled. "You have crossed swords with her." + +The man shook his head. + +"Not me," he said. "She did the battlin'. Guess I sat tight. You see, +words ain't as easy to a man, as to--some women." + +Joan enjoyed the tact of his remark. She leant forward and smoothed +the silky neck of the Padre's horse, and Buck's admiring eyes took in +the perfect lines of her well-cut habit. He had never seen anything +like it before, and failed to understand the excellence of its +tailoring, but he knew that everything about this girl was wonderfully +beautiful, and he would have liked to have been able to tell her so. + +As he watched her he could not help thinking of the moment when he had +held her in his arms. It was a thought almost always with him, a +thought which never failed to stir his pulses and set them racing. + +"But you see I can't do without her," the girl went on as she sat up +in her saddle again. "She's a good worker, herself. She's taught me a +good deal already. Oh, yes," she smiled at his look of incredulity, +"I've begun my lessons. I am learning all I can, preparing for the +bigger lessons of this--this"--she gave a comprehensive glance at the +hills--"wonderful world." + +Buck nodded. But he rode on in silence, his face for the moment +clouded with deep thought. He was thinking of that night in Beasley's +store. He was thinking of what might have happened there if those +women had carried out their purpose. He was wondering what the lessons +might be that this girl might yet find herself confronted with. The +matter troubled him. And Joan's surreptitious glance into his face +warned her that the cloud had obscured his sun. + +The man finally broke the silence. + +"Have you got any menfolk?" he asked abruptly. + +Joan turned quickly. + +"No--why?" + +"An uncle--a brother. Maybe a--father?" + +There was something almost anxious in Buck's manner as he enumerated +the possible relationships. + +But the girl shook her head at each one, and he went on in a tone of +disappointment. + +"It's kind of a pity," he observed. Then, in answer to the girl's +quick look of inquiry, he added evasively: "You see it's lonesome for +a gal--out in these hills." + +Joan knew that that was not the reason of his inquiry, and she smiled +quietly at her horse's ears. + +"Why did you want to know if I had--menfolk?" she asked. "I mean the +real reason." She looked up frankly smiling, and compelled his +attention. + +Buck was not easy to corner, even though he had no experience of +women. Again Joan heard his strange gurgle, and her smile broadened. + +"You could sure learn your lessons easier with your menfolk around to +help you," he said. + +For a second the girl's face dropped. Then she laughed good-humoredly. + +"You're smart, Buck," she exclaimed. "But--but you're most +exasperating. Still, I'll tell you. The only relative I have in the +world, that I know of, is--Aunt Mercy." + +"Ah! she's a woman." + +"Yes, a woman." + +"It's a pity." Suddenly Buck pointed ahead at a great mass of towering +rock above the trees. "There's Devil's Hill!" he exclaimed. + +Joan looked up, all eager delight to behold this wonderful hill Buck +had brought her out to see. She expected something unusual, for +already she had listened to several accounts of this place and the +gold "strike" she was supposed to have brought about. Nor was she +disappointed now, at least at first. She stared with wondering eyes at +the weird, black giant raising its ugly head in a frowning threat +above them, and gave a gasp of surprise. + +Then in a moment her surprise died out, and into her eyes crept a +strange look of repulsion and even fear. She had no words to offer. +She made no move. It was almost as if she sat fascinated like some +harmless bird held by the hypnotic stare of a python. So long did she +remain silent that Buck at last turned and looked into her face. And +something like alarm caught and held him when he beheld her gray look +of horror as she faced the gloomy crags mounting up before them. + +He too looked out ahead. But his imagination failed him, and his eyes +came back to her. The change in her happy, smiling eyes was +incredible. Her smile had gone utterly--the bright color of her +cheeks. There was no awe in her look, neither curiosity nor +admiration. To him it almost seemed that her whole body was thrilled +with an utter repugnance and loathing at what she beheld. + +"It's--ugly," he hazarded at last. + +"It's--it's dreadful." The girl's reply came in a tone there was no +mistaking. It was one of concentrated detestation. + +"You don't--like it?" Buck felt helpless. + +But Joan's next words left him without any doubt. + +"I--I think I--hate it," she said harshly. + +Buck drew rein on the instant. + +"Then we'll get back to home." + +But Joan had no such intention. + +"No--no!" she exclaimed quickly. "We'll go on. I want to see it. I--I +_must_ see it." + +Her manner had suddenly become agitated, and Buck was left wondering +the more. She was stirred with strange feelings which embodied a dozen +different emotions, and it was the sight of that great black crown, +like the head of a Gorgon, which had inspired them. Its fascination +was one of cruel attraction. Its familiarity suggested association +with some part of her life. It seemed as if she belonged to it, or +that it belonged to her--that in some curious way it was actually a +part of her life. And all the time her detestation, her fear surged +through her heart and left her revolting. But she knew she must go on. +Its fascination claimed her and drew her, calling to her with a +summons she dared not disobey--had no real desire to disobey. + +It was she who took the lead now. She pressed on at a rapid gallop. +Her fair young face was set and cold. She remained silent, and her +manner forbade the man's interruption. + +But Buck kept pace with her, and a great sympathy held him silent too. +He had no real understanding of her mood, only he knew that, for the +moment, his presence had no place in her thought. + +So they drew toward the shadow of the hill. Each was lost in disturbed +reflections. Joan was waiting, expectant of she knew not what, and the +man, filled with puzzlement, knew that the solution lay only with the +girl beside him. + +It had been his thought to point out the things which his practiced +mind suggested as of interest, but now, as he beheld the rapt +expression of her face, it all became different. Therefore he checked +the eager Caesar and let her lead the way. + +Joan had no observation for anything as she rode on right up to the +very shadow of the suspended lake. Then, almost mechanically, as +though urged by some unseen hand, she drew up sharply. She was no +longer looking at the hill, she sat in her saddle limply, and stared +vacantly at the rough workings of the miners which had been abandoned +for the day. + +Still Buck waited in silence. + +At last he had his reward. The girl made a movement almost like a +shiver. Then she sat up erect. The color came back to her cheeks and +she turned to him with eyes in which a ghost of a smile flitted. + +"I--I had forgotten," she said half-apologetically. "This is what has +brought prosperity to the camp. This is what has saved them from +starvation. We--we should owe it gratitude." + +"I don't guess the rocks need gratitude," replied Buck quietly. + +"No!" + +Joan looked up at the black roof above her and shivered. + +"It's a weird place, where one might well expect weird happenings." + +Buck smiled. He was beginning to obtain some insight into the girl's +mood. So used was he to the gloomy hill that its effect was quite lost +on him. Now he knew that some superstitious chord had been struck in +the girl's feelings, and this strange hill had been the medium of its +expression. + +He suddenly leant forward. Resting on the horn of his saddle he looked +into the fair face he so loved. He had seen that haunted look in her +face before. He remembered his first meeting with her at the barn. Its +termination had troubled him then. It had troubled him since. He +remembered the incident when the gold had been presented to her. Again +he had witnessed that hunted, terrified look, that strange +overpowering of some painful thought--or memory. + +Now he felt that she needed support, and strove with all his power to +afford it her. + +"Guess ther's nothing weird outside the mind of man," he said. +"Anyway, nothing that needs to scare folk." He turned and surveyed the +hill and the wonderful green country surrounding them. "Get a look +around," he went on, with a comprehensive gesture. "This rock--it's +just rock, natural rock; it's rock you'll find most anywhere. It's got +dumped down right here wher' most things are green, an' dandy, an' +beautiful to the eye; so it looks queer, an' sets your thoughts +gropin' among the cobwebs of mystery. Ther's sure no life to it but +the life of rock. This great overhang has just been cut by washouts of +centuries in spring, when the creek's in flood, an' it just happens +ther's a hot sulphur lake on top, fed by a spring. I've known it these +years an' years. Guess it's sure always been the same. It ain't got +enough to it to scare a jack-rabbit." + +Joan shook her head. But the man was glad to see the return of her +natural expression, and that her smiling eyes were filled with a +growing interest He knew that her strange mood was passing. + +He went on at once in his most deliberate fashion. + +"You needn't to shake your head," he said, with a smile of confidence. +"It's jest the same with everything. It sure is. We make life what it +is for ourselves. It's the same for everybody, an' each feller gets +busy makin' it different. The feller that gets chasin' trouble don't +need to run. He only needs to set around and shout. Guess it'll come +along if he's yearnin' for it. But it don't come on its own. That's +sure as sure. Keep brain an' body busy doin' the things that lie +handy, an' when you got to make good among the rocks of life, why, I +sure guess you won't find a rock half big enough to stop you." + +Watching the deep glowing eyes of the man Joan felt that his +confidence was not merely the confidence of brave words. A single +glance into his purposeful face left the definite impression that his +was a strength that is given to few. It was the strength of a simple, +honest mind as yet unfouled by the grosser evils of an effete +civilization. His was the force and courage of the wild--the impulse +which governs all creatures who live in the midst of Nature's +battle-grounds. + +"That's--that's because you're so strong you feel that way," she said, +making no attempt to disguise the admiration she felt. "The burden of +life does not always fall so easily. There are things, too, in spite +of what you say, that we cannot control--evils, I mean evils which +afflict us." + +Buck glanced away down the creek. Then his eyes came back to her, and +a new resolve lay behind them. + +"I'm no stronger than others," he said. "Guess I haven't ha'f the +strength of some. I'd say----" he paused. Then he went on, his eyes +gazing fearlessly into hers: "I'd say I haven't ha'f the strength of a +gal who gives up the city--a young gal jest beginning a woman's life +with 'most everything in her favor--an' comes right out here to farm +without a livin' soul to pass her a hand. I ain't got ha'f the courage +of a gal who does that jest because she's chased by thoughts that +worry her an' make her days no better than to set her--hatin' them. +Strength? Say, when you ken laff an' all the time feel that life ain't +ha'f so pleasant as death, why, I'd sure say ther' ain't no greater +strength this side of the check-taker's box." + +Joan could hardly believe her ears as she listened. Astonishment, +resentment, helplessness, incredulity, all struggled for place. How +had this man discovered her secret? How? How? What did he know +besides? For a moment her feelings robbed her of speech and betrayed +themselves in her expressive face. + +But the man's smile, so easy, so disarming, held her. He saw and +understood, and he hastened to reassure her. + +"Guess I ain't pryin'," he said bluntly. "These things just come along +to my tongue, feeling you were troubled at this--hill. You've told me +a heap since you come to the farm. You told me things which I don't +guess you wer' yearnin' to tell any one. But you didn't tell 'em with +your tongue. An' I don't guess you need to. Set your mind easy. You're +scared to death of some trouble which ain't of your seekin'--wal, I +don't believe in such trouble." + +Then he laughed in so unconcerned, so buoyant and whole-hearted a +fashion that Joan's confidence and hope leapt again. + +"Say," he added, as he saw the brightening of her face, "when you +fancy that trouble's gettin' around, when you fancy it's good an' big, +an' a whole heap to carry, why, you can pass it right on to me. I'm +yearnin' to get busy with jest sech a proposition." + +Buck's manner was irresistible. Joan felt herself swept along by it. +She longed there and then to tell him the whole of her miserable +little story. Yes, he made it seem so small to her now. He made it, at +the moment, seem like nothing. It was almost as though he had +literally lifted her burden and was bearing the lion's share of it +himself. Her heart thrilled with gratitude, with joy in this man's +wonderful comradeship. She longed to open her heart to him--to implore +him to shield her from all those terrible anxieties which beset her. +She longed to feel the clasp of his strong hand in hers and know that +it was there to support her always. She felt all these things without +one shadow of fear--somehow his very presence dispelled her shadows. + +But only did she permit her warm smile to convey something of all she +felt as she rejected his offer. + +"You don't know what you are asking," she said gently. Then she shook +her head. "It is impossible. No one can shift the burdens of life on +to the shoulders of another--however willing they be. No one has the +right to attempt it. As we are born, so we must live. The life that is +ours is ours alone." + +Buck caught at her words with a sudden outburst of passionate +remonstrance. + +"You're wrong--dead wrong," he declared vehemently, his eyes glowing +with the depth of feeling stirring him, a hot flush forcing its way +through the deep tanning of his cheeks. "No gal has a right to carry +trouble with a man around to help. She's made for the sunlight, for +the warmth an' ease of life. She's made to set around an' take in all +those good things the good God meant for her so she can pass 'em right +on to the kiddies still to be born. A woman's jest the mother of the +world. An' the men she sets on it are there to see her right. The +woman who don't see it that way is wrong--dead wrong. An' the man that +don't get right up on to his hind legs an' do those things--wal, he +ain't a man." + +It was a moment Joan would never forget. As long as she lived that +eager face, with eyes alight, the rapid tongue pouring out the +sentiments of his simple heart must ever remain with her. It was a +picture of virile manhood such as in her earliest youth she had +dreamed of, a dream which had grown dimmer and dimmer as she +progressed toward womanhood and learned the ways of the life that had +been hers. Here it was in all reality, in all its pristine simplicity, +but--she gathered up her reins and moved her horse round, heading him +toward home. + +"I'm glad I came out here--in the wilderness," she said earnestly. +"I'm glad, too, that I came to see this great black hill. Yes, and I'm +glad to think that I have begun the lessons which this great big world +is going to teach me. For the rest--we'd better go home. Look! The +daylight is going." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A STUDY IN MISCHIEF + + +Nearly three months had passed and all Beasley Melford's affairs were +amply prospering. His new saloon was the joy of his heart. It had been +completed more than a week, which week had been something in the +nature of a triumph of financial success. The camp was booming as he +had never dared to hope it would boom. Traders were opening up +business all round him, and the output of gold was increasing every +day. But, with all this rapid development, with all the wrangling and +competition going on about him, he was the centre of the commercial +interests of Yellow Creek, and his saloon was the centre of all its +traffic. + +But he was quite alive to the fact that he must maintain his position +and custom by keeping well in line, even just a little ahead of all +competition. He knew that to rest on his oars would be to court swift +disaster. It must be his constant thought to make his place more and +more attractive, to listen to the voice of public requirements, and +seize every opportunity of catering for them. + +His saloon was no better than a gambling-hell and drinking-booth, the +dry goods side of his enterprise being almost insignificant. For he +knew that the more surely his customers could indulge in such pastimes +in comparative comfort the more surely he would keep them. So he made +these things the basis of his trade. But there were other needs to be +provided for. Therefore, on the completion of his new saloon, and the +moment his vanity had been satisfied by the erection of a great board +top, set up on the pitch of the roof, announcing in blatant lettering +that it was "Melford's Hotel," he set to work to erect a dance hall +and a livery barn. He foresaw the necessity of running a stage, and he +never lost sight of the fact that a great number of the women of the +class he wished to see about were invading the place. Then, too, the +dance hall could be used as a boarding establishment for those who had +no homes of their own. + +It was a precious thought, and, after a journey to Leeson Butte to +consult his partner, these matters were put in hand. He no longer +worked single-handed. His establishment was increased by the advent of +a bartender, a Chinese cook, and a livery stable keeper. These, and +some casual labor from among the loafers, supplied him with all the +help he so far found necessary. + +The bar and the gambling-tables were always his own care. These were +the things he would never trust to other hands. The bartender was his +helper only, who was never allowed to escape the observation of his +lynx eyes. + +Yes, Beasley Melford was flourishing as he intended to flourish, and +his satisfaction was enormous. In the mornings he was always busy +supervising the work, in the afternoons he gave himself what leisure +his restless spirit demanded. But in the evenings he gathered his +harvest by rascally methods of flagrant extortion. + +It was during the latter part of his afternoon leisure that he was +suddenly disturbed by the appearance of Montana Ike in his bar. He was +stretched full length upon his counter, comfortably reviewing a +perfect maze of mental calculations upon the many schemes which he +had in hand, when the youngster pushed the swing door open and +blustered in. + +Beasley was sitting up in an instant. He hated this sort of sudden +disturbance. He hated men who rushed at him. He could never be certain +of their intentions. When he saw who his visitor was there was very +little friendliness in his greeting. + +"Wot in hell you want rushin' that way?" he demanded arrogantly. +"Guess your thirst ain't on a time limit." + +But the ginger-headed youth ignored his ill-temper. He was too full of +his own affairs. He simply grinned. + +"Fish out them durned scales o' yours," he cried gleefully. "Fish 'em +out, an' set your big weights on 'em. Ther' ain't goin' to be no chat +nor drink till you weighed in. Then I guess the drink'll be right up +to you." + +Beasley's mood changed like lightning. He swung over behind his bar +and dropped to the floor on the other side, his eyes alight, and every +faculty alert for trade. + +"Wot's it?" he demanded. "Struck it big?" he went on as the dingy gold +scales were produced from the shelf at the back. Then he laughed +amiably. "It needs to be big, wakin' me in my slack time." + +"Oh, it's big enuff," cried Ike confidently, his eager, young, animal +face alight with pleasure. + +He watched the other with impatient eyes as he deliberately picked out +the weights. But Beasley was too slow, and, with an impatient +exclamation, he snatched up the biggest of them and set it on the +somewhat delicate scales with a heavy hand. + +"Say, you're rapid as a sick funeral," he cried. "I ain't got no time +to waste. What I got here'll need that--an' more. Ther'!" + +Beasley's temper was never easy, and his narrow eyes began to sparkle. + +"You're mighty fresh," he cried. "Guess I'm----" + +But his remark remained unfinished. With a boisterous laugh the boy +flung a small canvas bag on the counter and emptied its contents +before the other's astonished eyes. + +"Ther'," he cried gleefully. "I want dollars an' dollars from you. An' +you'll sure see they ain't duds." + +Beasley's eyes opened wide. In a moment he had forgotten his +ill-humor. + +From the gold spread out before him he looked up into the other's face +with a half-suspicious, wholly incredulous stare. + +"You got that from your claim--to-day?" he asked. + +"An' wher' in hell else?" + +"Sure!" Beasley fingered the precious nuggets lovingly. "Gee! Ther's +nigh five hundred dollars there." + +"Fi' hundred--an' more," cried Ike anxiously. + +But Beasley's astonishment was quickly hidden under his commercial +instincts. He would have called them "commercial." + +"We'll soon fix that," he said, setting the scales. + +Ike leant against the bar watching the man finger his precious ore as +he placed each of the six nuggets in the scale and weighed them +separately. He took the result down on paper and worked their separate +values out at his own market prices. In five minutes the work was +completed, and the man behind the bar looked up with a grin. + +"I don't gener'ly make a bad guess," he said blandly. "But I reckoned +'em a bit high this journey. Ther's four hundred an' seventy-six +dollars comin' to you--ha'f cash an' ha'f credit. Is it a deal?" + +The other's face flamed up. A volcanic heat set him almost shouting. + +"To hell!" he cried fiercely. "Ther's fi' hundred dollars ther' if +ther's a cent. An' I want it all cash." + +Beasley shook his head. He had this boy's exact measure, and knew just +how to handle him. + +"The scales don't lie," he said. "But ther', it's the way wi' youse +fellers. You see a chunk o' gold an' you don't see the quartz stickin' +around it. Here, I'll put a hundred an' seventy-six credit an' the +rest cash. I can't speak fairer." + +He drew a roll of bills from his hip-pocket and began counting the +three hundred out. He knew the sight of them was the best argument he +could use. It never failed. Nor did it do so now. + +Ike grumbled and protested in the foulest language he was capable of, +but he grabbed the dollars when they were handed to him, and stowed +them into his hip-pocket with an eagerness which suggested that he +feared the other might repent of his bargain. And Beasley quickly +swept the precious nuggets away and securely locked them in his safe, +with the certain knowledge that his profit on the deal was more than +cent for cent. + +"You'll take rye," he said as he returned his keys to his pocket. "An' +seein' it's your good day, an' it's on me, we'll have it out o' this +thirteen-year-old bottle." + +He pushed the bottle across the counter and watched Ike pour himself +out a full "four fingers." The sight of his gluttony made Beasley feel +glad that the thirteen-year-old bottle had been replenished that +morning from the common "rot-gut" cask. After their drink he became +expansive. + +"That's an elegant claim of yours, Ike," he said, taking up his +favorite position on the bar. "It's chock full of alluvial. Don't +scarcely need washing. Guess I must ha' paid you two thousand dollars +an' more since--since we got busy. Your luck was mighty busy when they +cast the lots." + +"Luck? Guess I'm the luckiest hoboe in this layout," Ike cried with a +confidence that never seemed to require the support of rye whisky. + +Beasley's eyes sparkled maliciously. + +"How about Pete?" he grinned. He knew that Ike had an utter +detestation of Pete, and did not have to guess at the reason. "I paid +him more than that by fi' hundred. How's that?" + +"Tcha'! Pete ain't no account anyways," Ike retorted angrily. "Say, he +pitches his dollars to glory at poker 'most every night. Pete ain't +got no sort o' savee. You don't see me bustin' my wad that way." + +"How about the gals? Guess you hand 'em a tidy pile." + +"Gals!" Ike suddenly became thoughtful. His gaze wandered toward the +window. Then he abruptly turned back to the bar and clamored for +another drink. "We'll have that thirteen-year-old," he cried. "An' +guess I'll have a double dose. Gals!" he went on, with a sneer, as the +other watched him fill a brimming tumbler. + +"Ther's sure on'y one gal around here. That's why I got around now. +Guess I'm payin' her a 'party' call right now, 'fore the folks get +around. Say, I'm goin' to marry that gal. She's sure a golden woman. +Golden! Gee, it sounds good!" + +Beasley grinned. He was on a hot trail and he warmed to his work. + +"Goin' to ask her now?" he inquired amiably, eyeing the spirit the man +had poured out. + +Ike laughed self-consciously. + +"Sure," he said, draining his glass. + +"What about Pete?" + +Ike looked sharply into the other's grinning face. Then he banged his +glass angrily on the counter and moved toward the door. + +"Pete ken go plumb to hell!" he cried furiously over his shoulder as +he passed out. + +Beasley dropped nimbly from his counter and looked after him through +the window. He saw him vault into the saddle and race away down the +trail in the direction of the farm. + +His eyes were smiling wickedly. + +"Don't guess Pete's chasin' ther' to suit you, Master Ike," he +muttered. "Marry that gal, eh? Not on your life. You pore silly guys! +You're beat before you start--beat a mile. Buck's got you smashed to a +pulp. Kind of wish I'd given you less cash and more credit. Hello!" + +He swung round as the door was again thrust open. This time it was +Blue Grass Pete who strode into the room. + +"Wher's Ike?" he demanded without preamble the moment he beheld the +grinning face of the saloon-keeper. + +"Gee!" Beasley's grin suddenly broke out into a loud laugh. He brought +his two hands down on the counter and gave himself up to the joy of +the moment. + +Pete watched him with growing unfriendliness. + +"You're rattled some," he said at last, with elaborate sarcasm. Then, +as Beasley stood up choking with laughter and rubbing his eyes, he +went on: "Seems to me I asked you a civil question." + +Beasley nodded, and guffawed again. + +"You sure did," he said at last, stifling his mirth as he beheld the +other's threatening frown. "Well, I ain't laffin' at you. It's--it's +jest at things." + +But Pete had no sense of humor. He disliked Beasley, and simply wanted +his information now. + +"Ike been along?" he demanded doggedly. + +Beasley spluttered. Then he subsided into a malicious grin again. + +"Sure," he said. "He's been in with a fat wad. Say, he's a lucky +swine. 'Most everything comes his way. Guess he can't never touch bad. +He's ahead on the game, he's a golden-haired pet with the gals, an' he +gits gold in--lumps." + +But Pete's dark face and hungry eyes showed no appreciation, and +Beasley knew that the man's mood was an ugly one. + +"Wher's he now?" + +"Can't jest say. I didn't ask him wher' he was goin'. Y' see I cashed +his gold, and we had a drink. He seemed excited some. Guess he was +sort of priming himself. Maybe he's gone along to the gals. Have a +drink?" + +"No--yes, give us a horn of rye." + +The man behind the bar pushed the bottle across. + +"What you needin' him for?" he asked with apparent unconcern. + +Pete snatched at his drink. + +"That ain't your affair," he retorted surlily. + +"Sure it ain't. I jest asked--casual." + +Pete banged his empty glass on the counter. + +"I'm needin' him bad," he cried, his eyes furiously alight. "I'm +needin' him cos I know the racket he's on. See? He quit his claim +early cos--cos----" + +"Cos he's goin' to pay a 'party' call on that Golden Woman," cried +Beasley, appearing to have made a sudden discovery. "I got it, now. +That's why he was in sech a hurry. That's why he needed a good dose o' +rye. Say, that feller means marryin' that gal. I've heard tell he's +got it all fixed with her. I've heard tell she's dead sweet on him. +Wal, I ain't sure but wot it's natural. He's a good looker; so is she. +An' he's a bright boy. Guess he's got the grit to look after a gal +good. He's a pretty scrapper. Another drink?" + +Pete refilled his glass. His fury was at bursting-point, and Beasley +reveled in the devil now looking out of his angry eyes. + +"He's gone across ther' now?" he demanded, after swallowing his second +drink. His question was ominously quiet. + +Beasley saw the man's hands finger the guns at his waist. It was a +movement the sight of which gave him a wonderful satisfaction. + +"Seems like it," he said. "Though course I can't rightly say. I see +him ride off down the trail that way----" + +"Here, I'll take another drink. I'm goin' after----" + +"Say, you ain't goin' to butt in with two folks courtin'?" cried +Beasley, blandly innocent. + +But Pete had no reply. He drained his third drink and, flinging the +glass down, bolted out of the bar; while Beasley turned with a +malicious chuckle, and scrupulously entered up three drinks against +the man's name on the slate. + +"I'd give somethin' to see it," he muttered. Then he rubbed out the +entry he had made. "Guess I'll make it six drinks. He's too rattled to +remember." + +Ten minutes later a number of men were lounging in the saloon, and +Beasley, in the leisure of administering to their wants, was relating +to them the story of the afternoon's events. At the conclusion he +added his own comment, which was not without definite purpose. + +"Say, if they ain't jest like two dogs worritin' a bone you got me +plumb beat," he said. Then he added with an air of outraged virtue: +"I'd like to say right here she's jest playin' them fellers for their +wads. Oh, she's a keen one, her eyes is right on to business. She'll +sure have 'em shootin' each other right up. Seems to me a gal like +that ain't no right in this yer city. She's a scandal to the place. +An' a danger. Wot we fellers needs to figure on is the liberty an' +safety of our citizens, an' anything calc'lated to be a danger to that +needs to git seen to." + +Some of the men concurred half-heartedly. They were men who had come +into the camp with the rush, and were anxious to keep in with the +saloon-keeper. Still, even they were very little stirred by his +appeal. They cared not the least bit in the world who was shot up, or +who did the shooting, so long as they were not personally concerned +beyond the role of spectators. + +So for once his mischief fell flat. It was too early in the day to +make the impression he needed. They were not sufficiently primed with +rye. So Beasley contented himself with insinuating the bottle toward +doubtful customers, and easing his disappointment by making all the +trade he could. + +But presently a diversion occurred by the advent of Buck. He rode up, +his great horse loaded down with the carcasses of three splendid deer. +He had brought them in for sale. Game was a precious thing in this +camp, where a diet of simple beef ruled. + +The moment he displayed his wares there was a rush to bid for them, +and Beasley, much to his chagrin, found himself forced to pay boom +prices before he could secure them for retailing. He paid ungraciously +enough. If there was one man more than another in the camp he +begrudged anything to it was Buck. Besides, it made him utterly +furious to think that he never came up against this man on any +debatable matter but what he managed to come off worst. + +However, his policy forced him to stifle his resentment, and he paid, +mentally adding another item to the long list of his personal +animosities to be wiped out at some future date. + +But Buck's presence was an opportunity for mischief not to be +altogether missed. Nor was Beasley the man to let the moment pass +without availing himself of it. Buck's interest in Joan was something +to be played upon at all times. Therefore he drew him aside in a +manner as portentous and ingratiating as he could make it. + +Buck, wondering at his drift, submitted all unwillingly. + +"Say," Beasley began, the moment they were out of ear-shot of the +rest, "guess you ain't bin around the farm lately--I mean this +afternoon?" + +Buck looked him coldly in the eye. + +"No--why?" + +Beasley returned his look in consummate irritation. He pretended to be +annoyed at his coolness. He shrugged and turned away, speaking over +his shoulder as he went. + +"Oh, nuthin'! Guess it might be as well if you had." + +He went back to his bar, and in a moment was busy again at his trade. +Buck looked after him for one doubting second. Then he too turned away +and went out to his horse. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE ABILITIES OF MRS. RANSFORD + + +Joan was smiling happily, watching the waging of a droll little +farmyard warfare. Just now her life was running very smoothly, and the +shadows of memory were steadily receding. She had almost forgotten the +few unpleasant moments when she had first beheld the repellent +ugliness of Devil's Hill nearly a week ago. Since then nothing had +occurred to raise fresh alarm, and memory, with that pleasant knack +inspired of perfect physical health, had gently mellowed and lost +something of its power to disturb. + +It was a curious scene. The farm was still, so still, in the glowing +afternoon heat. The cattle were out in the pastures filling themselves +with the succulent grass and dozing the long daylight hours away. The +"hired" man was out with the team, breaking a new patch of prairie +land in the interim between the haying and harvesting. The hogs were +gently snuffling in their pens, and a few hens and cockerels were +amiably flirting whilst scratching about amongst the barn litter in +that busy, inconsequent manner so suggestive to the human mind of +effort for the sheer delight of being busy. + +It was a scene such as she had often dreamed of, and something which +very nearly approached her ideal. + +Here, in one corner of the yard, where she stood, sun-bonneted to +shelter her face from the burning attentions of the summer sun, +leaning idly against a water barrel standing at the corner of the +barn, she watched the farmyard comedy which was rapidly threatening to +disturb the general peace. A large hen with a late-hatched brood of +chicks, whose colors suggested the polygamous conditions under which +her matrimonial affairs were carried on, with feathers ruffled and +comb flaming, with head lowered and beak agape, was angrily defying an +absurd-looking pig which had scarcely passed its sucking age. + +They had met quite suddenly round the corner of the implement shed. +For the moment they stood disconcerted, while the agitated hen clucked +alarm at her offspring. The pig, squealing in a high treble, was +standing with snout twitching and front feet apart, a picture of +idiotic confusion. Perhaps the hen, with the superior feminine +knowledge of her age, understood something of the situation, and +appreciated the young porker's inability. Anyway, she took the +initiative in aggression, and, vainly struggling to cover her rather +riotous brood with outspread wings, cackled furiously and prepared for +the onslaught which secretly she knew was not forthcoming. + +The porker's mind seemed to be in a whirl of doubt, for he looked +vainly from side to side to find some adequate means of escape. His +sense did not carry him sufficiently far to prompt him to turn tail +and bolt for safety. He just stood there and continued his helpless +baby squealing. This was all the old hen needed to drive her to +extremities. Realizing his weakness she gave one fluttering spring, +scattering her chicks in all directions, pecked the pig's nose +violently, turned something like a somersault as she landed on the +ground, gathered herself together, and incontinently fled, leaving +her brood to care for themselves. Thus the pig was left looking after +her with an expression in its silly eyes that suggested to the girl +nothing so much as an amazed wonder as to what the fuss was all about. + +Joan stood convulsed with laughter. The pig interested her vastly more +than the hen, and she waited the further working of its stupid mind. +But she was disappointed. Its momentary confusion had passed, and, +lowering its pink snout, it groveled on in search of offal, the +delights of which its young mind was just awakening to. + +She had moved away to pass on toward the house when she was startled +by the sound of a harsh laugh close behind her. She turned and found +herself staring into the grinning face of Montana Ike. + +She was angry and not without a qualm of apprehension. This man had +become a constant caller at the farm at all sorts of odd and +unexpected moments. And his attitude was such that she thoroughly +resented him. In his vaunting, braggadocio manner he had assumed a +sort of proprietary interest in her and her affairs. + +The moment she faced him, his confident attitude became more +pronounced. + +"Comic, ain't it?" he suggested. Then he added, as though to assure +her of his appreciation: "Nigh as comic as a cirkis." + +But all Joan's delight in the scene was gone. Her beautiful eyes were +sparkling angrily. She made up her mind then and there to be rude to +the man. She would not have him about the place. + +"What do you want?" she inquired bluntly. + +The boy's grin remained, but his furtive eyes opened a shade wider. + +"Wot do I want? Gee! You're feelin' friendly." Then he put on a manner +he intended to be facetious. "An' me left my patch o' pay-dirt, an' +all, to pay a 'party' call. Say, Miss Golden, that ain't sassiety ways +in this yer camp." + +His attempt at pleasantry went for nothing. Joan, studying the man +closely, saw that his face was flushed, and, even at that distance, +she could smell the drink he had been imbibing. She must get rid of +him, but it was not so easy to her gentle nature. However, she took a +firm stand. + +"Maybe not," she said coldly. "But when people make 'party' calls they +generally do it at convenient times. I'm very busy." + +The man laughed in the harsh manner she disliked and rather feared. + +"Kind o' seemed busy when I got around. Y' see you was sure that busy +you didn't hear my hoss comin' along, you never see me git off him an' +leave him back ther', an' me come along over an' stand watchin' you +doin' nuthin' fer nigh fi' minutes. Oh, you're sure busy!" + +Joan flushed. She knew she had lied, but to be told so by this man was +infuriating. She made no attempt to further disguise her feelings. + +"I said I was busy," she cried deliberately. "Surely that should be +sufficient." + +But the man had no intention of accepting his dismissal. + +"It jest depends wot a feller's come around for," he said, no whit +disconcerted. "Mebbe you won't find you're busy when you heard what I +got to say." He laughed immoderately. Beasley's whisky was at work, +and he had no fear for the purpose in hand. + +Suddenly he dived a hand into his hip-pocket and drew out the bills +the saloon-keeper had paid him. + +"Look at them," he cried in a voice that was high-pitched with +elation. "Ther's dollars an' dollars ther', but 'tain't nuthin' to +wot's to come. Say, I got another cache o' gold waitin' back ther' at +my shack, but I ain't handin' it to Beasley," he went on cunningly. +"Oh, no, not me! I'm a business guy, I am. I hold that up, an' all the +rest I git from my patch, an' I'm goin' to cash it in Leeson Butte, at +the bank, fer a proper exchange. See? Oh, I ain't no sucker, I ain't. +An' a feller needs a heap o' dollars, treatin' his gal right." + +Joan hardly knew how to deal with such a situation. Besides, the now +obvious condition of the man alarmed her. However, he gave her no +opportunity to reply. For, delighted with his own talk, he went on +promptly-- + +"Now I tho't a whole heap since I got this wad. A wad like this takes +you thinkin', that is, ef you ain't a low-down rattle-brain like Pete, +or a psalm-smitin' son-of-a-moose like that feller, Buck. Course they +ain't got no sort o' savvee, anyways, so they don't count nuthin'. But +wi' a feller like me things is diff'rent. Now, this is what I got +fixed. Y' see you can't have no sort of a time in this yer camp, but +it's diff'rent in Leeson Butte. Guess we'll get a buggy from the camp +an' drive into Leeson. Ther's dance halls ther', an' they run a decent +faro joint at a place I know. An' they sell elegant rye, too. Wal, +we'll git that buggy, an' git fixed up reg'lar in Leeson, an' have a +bully time, an' git right back to here an' run this yer farm between +us. How's that?" + +"I--I don't think I understand." + +Joan's alarm grew. This man was deliberately proposing to marry her. +Supported by the nerve his half-drunken condition inspired, his senses +were so inflamed that he took the whole matter for granted. She looked +into his sensual young face, the hard eyes, and at the loose lips that +surrounded his unclean teeth, and something like panic seized her. +However, she knew she must not show her fear. + +But he was waiting. And in reality her reply came without any +hesitation. She shook her head. + +"You've made a mistake," she said decidedly but gently. "I have no +intention of marrying anybody." Then, taking her courage in both +hands, she permitted something of her dislike and contempt to creep +into her manner. "It seems to me you take a great deal too much for +granted. You come here when you think you will, wholly uninvited, and, +from the first, you hint broadly that you regard me as--as the person +you intend to marry. That is presumption, to put it mildly, and I have +no use for people who--presume." + +She moved as though to return to the house. But Ike, all his +confidence suddenly merged into a volcanic heat, reached out a hand to +detain her. His hand came into rough contact with the soft flesh of +her shoulder, and, shaking it off, she faced him with flaming eyes. + +"Don't dare to do that again," she cried, with bosom heaving. "Go, +leave this farm instantly. Remember you are trespassing here!" + +Her anger had outweighed all her alarm, even, perhaps, all discretion. +For the man was in no mood to accept his dismissal easily. + +"So that's it, is it?" he cried with a sudden hoarseness. "Oho, my +lady! We're putting on airs," he sneered. "Not good enough, eh? +Presuming, am I? An' who in blazes are you that you can't be touched? +Seems to me a decent honest citizen's jest as good fer you as fer any +other gal, an' my dollars are clean. What in thunder's amiss?" Then +his heat lessened, and his manner became more ingratiating. "See here, +Golden," he went on persuasively, "you don't mean that, sure! Wot's +the matter with me? I ain't weak-kneed, nor nuthin'. I ain't scared o' +no man. I'd scrap the devil ef you ast me. An' say, just think wot we +ken do with the dollars. You'd make a real upstander in a swell house, +with folks waitin' around on you, an' di'monds an' things. Say, I'm +jest bustin' to make good like that. You can't jest think how much +gold ther' is in my patch--an' you brought it along with you. You give +it to me--your luck." + +There was something almost pathetic in his pleading, and for a brief +moment a shade of sympathy softened the girl. + +"Please don't persist, Ike," she said almost gently. "Still, I can +never marry you. It's--it's--absurd," she added, with a touch of +impatience she could not wholly keep back. + +But that touch of impatience suddenly set fire again to the man's +underlying intolerance of being thwarted. + +"Absurd, is it?" He laughed with a curious viciousness which once more +disturbed the girl. "Absurd fer you to marry me," he cried harshly. +"Absurd fer you, cos I ain't got no smarmy eddication, cos I ain't +dressed in swaller tails an' kids, same as city folks. Oh, I know! +You're a leddy--a city-raised leddy, an' I--I'm jest a prairie hog. +That's it. You ain't got no use fer me. You jest come along right here +an' laff, an' laff at us folks. Oh, you needn't to say you hav'n't!" +as she raised a protesting hand. "Think I'm blind, think I'm deaf. Me! +Say, you shown it right along jest so plain ther' wer'n't no need to +tell it in langwidge." He broke off for a moment as though his anger +had robbed him of further speech, and Joan watched the growing purpose +in his hot eyes. Her own face was the color of marble. She was +inwardly trembling, but she stood her ground with eyes stonily cold. +She made no attempt to speak now, or defend herself against his +accusations. She knew it would be useless. Only she longed in her mind +for the presence of Buck to protect her from the insult she felt to be +coming. Nor was she mistaken. + +The man's pause gave way before the surge of his anger. + +"See here," he suddenly cried, as though he had just arrived at a +decision. "I ain't an easy man to laff at, as the folks around here +knows. Ther' ain't no man around here can laff at Montana Ike, an' I +don't guess no gal wi' red ha'r's goin' to neither. See?" He glanced +swiftly round the farm. There was no one in sight. Suddenly one great +hand shot out and he seized the girl by the arm in a crushing, +powerful grasp and dragged her to him. + +"You guess you ken laff at me," he cried, seizing her with both hands +and holding her in spite of her struggles. "Wal, you ken laff after +you kissed me. You ken laff, oh, yes! when I tell the folks you kissed +me. Seems to me the laff'll mostly be with me." + +He drew her toward him while she struggled violently. Then she +shrieked for help, but she knew the only help she could hope for was +the wholly inadequate help of her housekeeper. She shrieked Mrs. +Ransford's name with all her power, while the man's face came nearer. +It was quite hopeless; she knew she could not defend herself. And the +half-drunken man was laughing as though he enjoyed her terror. + +She felt his hot breath on her cheeks, she closed her eyes to shut out +the sight of his grinning face. He released his hold with one hand and +flung his arm about her waist. She fought with might and main, +shrieking with all the power of her lungs. She suddenly felt the +impress of his hot lips on her cheek, not once, but a dozen times. +Then of a sudden he released her with a bitter oath, as the shrieking +voice of Mrs. Ransford sounded close by, and the thwack of a heavy +broom fell upon his head and shoulders. + +"I'll teach you, you miser'ble hoboe!" cried the old woman's strident +voice as her powerful arms swung her lusty broom aloft. "I'll teach +you, you scallawag!" Thwack fell the broom, and, releasing Joan, the +man sought to protect his head with his arms. "I'll give you a dose +you won't fergit, you scum o' creation!" Thwack went the broom again. +"Wait till the folks hear tell o' this, you miser'ble, miser'ble cur!" +Again the broom fell, and the man turned to flee. "You'd run, would +you? Git a fork, Miss Joan!" With a surprising rush the fat creature +lunged another smash at the man's head with her favorite weapon. + +The blow fell short, for Ike had made good his retreat. And curiously +enough he made no attempt to disarm her, or otherwise stand his ground +once he was beyond the range of her blows. Perhaps he realized the +immensity of his outrage, perhaps he foresaw what might be the result +to himself when the story of his assault reached the camp. Perhaps it +was simply that he had a wholesome terror of this undoubted virago. +Anyway, he bolted for his horse and vaulted into the saddle, galloping +away as though pursued by something far more hurtful than a fat +farm-wife's avalanche of vituperation. + +"Mussy on us!" cried the old woman, flinging her broom to the ground +as the man passed out of sight. "Mussy me, wot's he done to you, my +pretty?" she cried, rushing to the girl's side and catching her to her +great bosom. "There, there, don't 'e cry, don't 'e to cry for a +scallawag like that," she said, as the girl buried her face on her +shoulder and sobbed as though her heart would break. "There, there," +she went on, patting the girl's shoulder, "don't 'e demean yerself +weppin' over a miser'ble skunk like that. Kiss yer, did he? Kiss yer! +Him! Wal, he won't kiss nobody no more when the folks is put wise. An' +I'll see they gets it all. You, a 'Merican gal, kissed by a hog like +that. Here, wipe yer cheeks wi' this overall; guess they'll sure +fester if you don't. Ther', that's better," she went on as Joan, +choking back her sobs, presently released herself from her bear-like +embrace. + +"It's my own fault," the girl said tearfully. "I ought never to have +spoken to him at all. I----" + +But Mrs. Ransford gave her no chance to finish what she had to say. + +"Wot did I tell you?" she cried, with a power of self-righteousness. +"Wot did I tell you? You ain't got no right to git a hob-a-nobbin' +with sech scum. They're all scallawags, every one of 'em. Men!--say, +these yer hills is the muck-hole o' creation, an' the men is the +muck. I orter know. Didn't I marry George D. Ransford, an' didn't I +raise twins by him, as you might say, an' didn't I learn thereby, an' +therewith, as the sayin' is, that wi' muck around there's jest one way +o' cleanin' it up an' that's with a broom! Come right into the house, +pretty. You're needin' hot milk to soothe your nerves, my pore, pore! +Come right in. Guess I'm a match fer any male muck around these hills. +Mussy on us, what's that!" + +Both women started and stood staring with anxious, terrified eyes down +the trail which led to the camp. Two shots had been fired almost +simultaneously, and now, as they waited in horrified silence, two more +shots rang out, echoing against the hills in the still air with +ominous threat. After that all was quiet again. + +Presently the strained look in the farm-wife's face relaxed, and she +turned to her charge. + +"That's him," she cried, with a swift return to her angry, +contemptuous manner. "It's him showin' off--like all them scallawags. +Come right in, missie," she added, holding out her hands to lead the +girl home. + +But her kindly intention received an unexpected shock. Joan brushed +her roughly aside, and her look was almost of one suddenly demented. + +"No, no," she cried in a voice of hysterical passion. "You don't +understand. You can't understand. Those shots--oh! It is my fate--my +curse. I must go!" + +And she fled down the trail in the direction whence the sound had +proceeded--fled, leaving Mrs. Ransford staring stupidly after her, a +prey to utter bewilderment. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE MEETING ON THE TRAIL + + +The quiet was profound. All the world seemed so still. There was no +sign of life, yet the warm air was thrilling with the unseen life of +an insect world. The heat haze rose from the soft, deep surface sand +of the trail, and the grass-lined edges looked parched beneath the +glare of the summer sun. There was no breath from the mountains down +here, where the forest trees crowded in on either side, forming a +great screen against the cooling breezes, and holding the heat like +the sides of an oven. + +A startled bird fluttered amongst the branches of a tree with that +restless movement which so surely indicates the alarm of some subtle +sense which no other creature possesses in so keen a degree. An +answering rustle came from near by. And in a moment this was followed +by a bustling rush among the leaves as two winged mates fled farther +into the forest. Yet the sudden flight seemed quite unnecessary. + +Again the stillness was broken. This time it was by the harsh voice of +a black carrion. This too was followed by movement, only the movement +had no haste or suggestion of fear. It was simply the heavy flapping +of slow-moving wings. Two enormous crows launched themselves upon the +air from the topmost branches of a distant tree, and perched on the +crest of another at the trail-side. + +They sat there in solemn, unmoving silence, but with eyes alert and +watchful, and who might tell the thought passing through their +unwholesome minds! + +But now a further sound broke the stillness--a sound which perhaps +accounted for the movements of the birds. A soft patter grew out of +the distance like the pad of muffled feet. But it was faint and +seemingly far off. The sharp eyes of the feathered watchers were +scanning the horizon from their lofty perches. The sound grew. And as +it grew the waiting carrion turned to view both distances of the +trail. It was evident that the growing sound had a double source. + +The padding feet became more distinct. Yes, the sounds were sharper. +The softness had gone, developing into the rhythmic beat of hard hoofs +speeding from either direction. Two horses were galloping down the +trail at a rapid pace, and quickly it became evident that their +meeting must occur somewhere almost directly beneath the watchful eyes +of the waiting birds. + +Nearer and nearer came the hoof-beats. The birds were plucking at +their feathers with an unconcern all too apparent. They ruffled their +wings and preened their plumage, a sure indication of satisfaction. +One of the galloping horses slackened its gait. Perhaps its rider had +heard the approach of that other, and, with the curious instinctive +suspicion of the western trail, prepared to pass him under the best +conditions for defensiveness. Perhaps it was simply the natural action +of a horseman on the trail. + +But the horse from the other direction had slackened speed too. His +rider, too, had reduced his gait to a walk. + +The birds overhead ceased their preening and looked below for the +possible development they seem to be ever awaiting. It makes no +difference, they follow the trail of all animal life, waiting, +waiting, with a patience inexhaustible, for the moment of stillness +which tells them that life has passed and the banquet awaits them. + +One of the horsemen came into full view from the height above. The +second horseman appeared round a bend. Both men were mounted on the +lean, hard-muscled horses of prairie breeding. They were spare of +flesh and uncared for, but their muscles were hard and their legs +clean. Between them a bend in the trail still intervened, but with +each moment they were drawing nearer to each other. + +Right under the tree upon which the crows were perched Pete drew rein +and sat listening to the shuffling gait of the oncoming horse. The +man's lean face was dark with a brooding hatred. His eyes were +fiercely alight with expectancy. A revolver lay across his thigh, the +butt of it firmly grasped in a hand clutching it with desperate +purpose. + +The trail was the trail to the farm. Ike had gone to the farm. A +horseman was returning along that trail from the direction of the +farm. Such was the argument behind his aggressive action. It was a +simple argument which in his sober senses might have needed support to +urge him to the course he now contemplated. But he was not sober; +Beasley had seen to that. He was no more sober than was Ike. + +Ike's horse was moving slowly--much slower than its usual walking gait +The man was craning forward. Who, he wondered, was riding toward the +farm, and for what purpose? His right hand was on the butt of his +revolver, but his weapon was still in its holster, for his action was +purely precautionary in a country where, when a man has enemies, or +has done those things which he knows his fellows resent, it is +advisable to look for no support outside his own ability to defend +himself. + +He remembered the screams of Joan, and he knew how the hills echoed. +He wondered, and wondering he regretted something of what he had done. +But he regretted it only for possible consequences to himself. In +reality he reveled in the warm memory of the feel of the girl's soft +cheek. + +His horse reached the bend. He could no longer hear the hoof-beats of +the other. He drew up with a sudden, nervous movement, and his gun +left its holster. But his nerves passed, and, with a foul oath, he +urged his horse forward. He rounded the bend and came face to face +with the figure of Blue Grass Pete. + +"Wher' you bin?" demanded the latter in a manner that was a deliberate +insult. + +Ike did the only thing his wit could prompt. He laughed. It was a +harsh, mirthless laugh, which was equally an insult. + +"Quit it!" roared Pete in a blind fury. "Wher' you bin, I say?" + +Ike abandoned his laugh, but his face was furiously grinning. + +"Bin?" he echoed. "I bin wher' you needn't to go--wher' it ain't no +use your goin'," he cried, his love of boast prompting him. "I bin to +fix things up. She's goin' to mar----" + +A shot rang out. Ike's face blanched, but like lightning his pistol +bit out its retort. Pete reeled and recovered himself, and again he +fired. Ike leant forward as though seeking support from the horn of +his saddle. Pete had fallen forward on to his horse's neck. Ike raised +his gun and fired again, but there had really been no need for the +shot. Even as his gun spoke the other man fell to the ground and +rolled over. His dark face was turned upward, so that the waiting +crows had a full view of it. + +After that Ike remained quite still. His pale face, turning to a +greenish hue in contrast to his ginger hair, was staring down at the +result of his handiwork. But his eyes were almost unseeing. He was +faint and weary, and in great pain. + +The moments passed. At last he stirred. But his movement was merely to +clutch with feeble fingers at the mane of his horse. Vainly his left +hand clawed amongst the lank hair, while the fingers of his right +released their grip upon his pistol and let it clatter to the ground. + +He crouched there breathing heavily, while a harsh croak from above +split the air. Again he moved as though the sound had awakened him. He +strove to sit up, to lift the reins, and to urge his horse forward. +The beast moved in response to his effort. But the movement was all +that was needed. The man reeled, lost his balance, and fell heavily to +the ground. He too had rolled on to his back--he too was gazing up +with unseeing eyes at the dark-hued carrion whose patience was +inexhaustible. + +For a moment all was still. Then the horses moved as by common +consent. They drew near to each other, and their noses met in that +inquiring equine fashion which suggests friendly overtures. They stood +thus for a while. Then both moved to the side of the trail and began +to graze upon the parching grass after the unconcerned manner of +their kind. + +The heavy flapping of wings told of a fresh movement in the trees +above. Two great black bodies swung out upon the air. They circled +round as though assuring themselves that all was as they could wish +it. Then they settled again. But this time it was on the boughs of a +low bush less than six feet above the staring faces of their intended +victims. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A MAN'S SUPPORT + + +Buck looked up as two crows flew low over his head and passed on their +way, croaking out their alarm and dissatisfaction. Mechanically his +eyes followed their movements. For he was well versed in the sights, +and sounds, and habits of his world. + +Presently he turned again to the trail, and the expression of his eyes +had changed to one of speculation. Caesar was traveling eagerly. He had +not yet forgotten that farther on along that trail lay the old barn +which had been his home from his earliest recollections. + +Buck had had no intention of making this visit to the farm when he +left Beasley's saloon. He had not had the remotest intention of +carrying out the man's broadly-given hint. A hint from Beasley was +always unwelcome to him, and generally roused an obstinate desire to +take an opposite course. Nor was it until he reached the ford of the +creek that the significance of the man's tone penetrated his dislike +of him. Quite abruptly he made up his mind to keep straight on. +Curiosity, added to a slight feeling of uneasiness, urged him, and, +leaving the ford behind him, he kept on down the trail. + +His decision once taken, he felt easier as he rode on. Besides, he +admitted to himself now, he was rather thankful to the saloon-keeper +for providing him with something in the nature of an excuse for such a +visit. He was different from those others, who, in perfect confidence +and ignorance, required not the least encouragement to persecute Joan +with their attentions. He found it more than difficult to realize that +his visits were anything but irksome to the new owner of the farm now +that she had settled down with the adequate support of her "hired" +man. + +Joan's graciousness to him was the one great delight of his every +waking hour. But he dreaded the moment when her manner might become +the mere tolerance she displayed toward Ike and Pete, and any of the +others who chose to make her farm a halting-place. So his visits had +become rarer; far rarer than made for his own peace of mind, for Joan +was always in his thoughts. + +Tramping the long trail of the mountains her smiling eyes were always +somewhere ahead of him, encouraging him, and shedding a radiance of +hope and delight upon the dullest moments of his routine. Never for +one moment was the delightful picture of her presence absent from his +thoughts. And to him there was nothing in the whole wide world so +fair, and sweet, and worthy of the worship he so willingly cast at her +feet. + +His life had always been full in his wilderness of Nature's splendor. +In his moments of leisure he had been more than happily content in the +pleasant friendship of the man who had sheltered him from childhood. +But now--now as he looked back over all those years, the associations +seemed dull and empty--empty of all that made life worth living. Not +only had he come to realize the woman's place in a man's life. It was +the old story of the fruit of knowledge. Woman had always been a +sealed book to him. Now, at last, the cover had been turned and the +pages lay before him for the reading. He yearned for Joan with all +the strength and passionate ardor of his strong young heart. Nor, even +in his yearning, had he full understanding of the real depths of his +feelings. + +How could he study or analyze them? His love had no thought of the +world in it. It had no thought of anything that could bring it down to +the level of concrete sensation. He could not have told one feeling +that was his. With Joan at his side he moved in a mental paradise +which no language could depict. With Joan at his side he lived with +every nerve pulsating, attuned to a perfect consciousness of joy. With +Joan at his side there was nothing but light and radiance which filled +every sense with a happiness than which he could conceive no greater. +Alone, this great wide world about him was verily a wilderness. + +The man's feelings quickly mastered his momentary uneasiness as his +horse bore him on toward his goal. The forest path over which he was +traveling had lost its hue of gloom which the shadowed pine woods ever +convey. There was light everywhere, that light which comes straight +from the heart and is capable of lending radiance even to the +grave-side itself. + +The trail lay straight ahead of him for some distance. Then it swerved +in a big sweep away to the left. He knew this bend. The farm lay +something less than half a mile beyond it. As they neared it Caesar +pricked his ears and whinnied. Buck leant forward and patted his neck +out of the very joy of anticipation. It almost seemed to him as if the +creature knew who was waiting at the end of the journey and was +rejoicing with him. For once he had misunderstood the mood of his +horse. + +He realized this in a moment. The eager creature began to move with a +less swinging stride, and his gait quickly became something in the +nature of a "prop." They were round the bend, and the horse whinnied +again. This time it raised its head and snorted nervously. And +instantly Buck was alive to the creature's anxiety. He understood the +quick glancing from side to side, and the halting of that changing +step which is always a sign of fear. + +Ahead the trail completed the letter S it had begun. They were nearing +the final curve to the right. Buck searched the distance for the cause +of Caesar's apprehension. And all unconsciously his mind went back to +the winging of the crows overhead and the sound of their harsh voices. +He spurred the creature sharply, and steadied him down. + +They reached the final bend and passed round it, and in a moment Buck +had an answer to the questions in his mind. It was a terrible +spectacle that greeted his eyes as he reined his horse in and brought +him to an abrupt halt. He had reached the battle-ground where death +had claimed its toll of human passion. There, swiftly, almost +silently, two men had fought out their rivalry for a woman's favor--a +favor given to neither. + +It needed little enough imagination to read the facts. All the +ingredients of the swift-moving drama were there before his eyes--the +combatants stretched out in the sand of the trail, with staring eyes +and dropping jaws, gazing up at the brilliant vault of the heavens, +whither, may be, their savage spirits had fled; the woman crouching +down at the roadside with face buried upon outstretched arms, her +slight body heaving with hysterical sobs; the horses, horses he knew +well enough by sight, lost to the tragedy amidst the more succulent +roots of the parching grass beneath the shadow of overhanging trees. + +One glance at the combatants told Buck all he wanted to know. They +were dead. He had been too long upon the western trail to doubt the +signs he beheld. His duty and inclination were with the living. In a +moment he was out of the saddle and at Joan's side, raising her from +her position of grief and misery in arms as gentle as they were +strong. + +He had no real understanding of the necessities of the moment. All he +knew, all he desired, was to afford the girl that help and protection +he felt she needed. His first thought was to keep her from a further +sight of what had occurred. So he held her in his arms, limp and +yielding, for one uncertain moment. Then, for the second time in his +life, he bore her off toward her home. + +But now his feelings were of a totally different nature. There was +neither ecstasy nor dreaming. He was anxious and beset. As he bore her +along he spoke to her, encouraging her with gentle words of sympathy +and hope. But her fainting condition left him no reward, and her +half-closed eyes, filled with unshed tears, remained dull and +unresponsive. + + * * * * * + +No sound broke the stillness in the parlor at the farm. Buck was +leaning against the small centre-table gravely watching the bowed head +of the silently-weeping girl, who was seated upon the rough settle +which lined the wall. Her slight figure was supported by the pillows +which had been set in place by the ministering hands of Mrs. Ransford. + +Buck's reception by the farm-wife had been very different on this +occasion. She had met him with his burden some distance down the +trail, whither she had followed her young mistress, whose fleetness +had left her far behind. Her tongue had started to clack at once, but +Buck was in no mood to put up with unnecessary chatter. A peremptory +order had had the astonishing effect of silencing her, and a further +command had set her bustling to help her mistress. + +Once immediate needs had been attended to, the man told his story +briefly, and added his interpretation of the scene he had just +witnessed. He further dispatched the old woman to summon the hired man +from his ploughing, and, for once, found ready obedience where he +might well have expected nothing but objection. + +Thus it was the man and girl were alone in the parlor. Buck was +waiting for Joan's storm of tears to pass. + +The moment came at last, and quite abruptly. Joan stirred; she flung +her head up and dashed the weak tears from her eyes, struggling +bravely for composure. But the moment she spoke her words belied the +resolution, and showed her still in the toils of an overwhelming +despair. + +"What can I do?" she cried piteously. "What am I to do? I can see +nothing--nothing but disaster in every direction. It is all a part of +my life; a part of me. I cannot escape it. I have tried to, but--I +cannot. Oh, I feel so helpless--so helpless!" + +Buck's eyes shone with love and pity. He was stirred to the depths of +his manhood by her appeal. Here again was that shadow she had spoken +of before, that he had become familiar with. He tried to tell himself +that she was simply unnerved, but he knew her trouble was more than +that. All his love drove him to a longing for a means of comforting +her. + +"Forget the things you seen," he said in a low tone. And he felt that +his words were bald--even stupid. + +The girl's troubled eyes were looking up into his in a desperate hope. +It was almost as if this man were her only support, and she were +making one final appeal before abandoning altogether her saving hold. + +"Forget them? Oh, Buck, Buck, you don't know what you are saying. You +don't understand--you can't, or you would not speak like that. You +see," she went on, forgetting in her trouble that this man did not +know her story, "Ike was here. Here! He made--love to me. He--he +kissed me. He brutally kissed me when I had no power to resist him. +And now--now this has happened." + +But the man before her had suddenly changed while she was speaking. +The softness had left his eyes. They had suddenly become hot, and +bloodshot, and hard. His breath came quickly, heavily, his thin +nostrils dilating with the furious emotion that swept through his +body. Ike had kissed her. He had forgotten all her sufferings in his +own sudden, jealous fury. + +Joan waited. The change in the man had passed unobserved by her. Then, +as no answer was forthcoming, she went on-- + +"Wherever I go it is the same. Death and disaster. Oh, it is awful! +Sometimes I think I shall go mad. Is there no corner of the earth +where I can hide myself from the shadow of this haunting curse?" + +"Ike kissed you?" + +Buck's voice grated harshly. Somehow her appeal had passed him by. +All his better thoughts and feelings were overshadowed for the moment. +A fierce madness was sweeping through his veins, his heart, his brain, +a madness of feeling such as he had never before experienced. + +The girl answered him, still without recognizing the change. + +"Yes," she said in a dull, hopeless way. "And the inevitable happened. +It followed swiftly, surely, as it always seems to follow. He is +dead." + +"He got it--as he should get it. He got no more than he'd have got if +I'd been around." + +Buck's mood could no longer escape her. She looked into the hard, +young face, startled. She saw the fury in his eyes, the clenched jaws, +with their muscles outstanding with the force of the fury stirring +him. + +The sight agitated her, but somehow it did not frighten. She half +understood. At least she thought she did. She read his resentment as +that of a man who sees in the outrage a breaking of all the laws of +chivalry. She missed the real note underlying it. + +"What does his act matter?" she said almost indifferently, her mind on +what she regarded as the real tragedy. "He was drunk. He was not +responsible. No, no. It is not that which matters. It was the other. +He left me--to go to his death. Had Pete not been waiting for him it +would have been just the same. Disaster! Death! Oh! can you not see? +It is the disaster which always follows me." + +Her protest was not without its effect. So insistent was she on the +resulting tragedy that Buck found himself endeavoring to follow her +thought in spite of his own feelings. She was associating this +tragedy with herself--as part of her life, her fate. + +But it was some moments before the man was sufficiently master of +himself--before he could detach his thought altogether from the human +feelings stirring him. The words sang on his ear-drums. "He--he kissed +me." They were flaming through his brain. They blurred every other +thought, and, for a time, left him incapable of lending her that +support he would so willingly give her. Finally, however, his better +nature had its way. He choked down his jealous fury, and strove to +find means of comforting her. + +"It's all wrong," he cried, with a sudden force which claimed the +girl's attention, and, for the time at least, held her troubled +thought suspended. "How can this be your doing? Why for should it be a +curse on you because two fellers shoot each other up? They hated each +other because of you. Wal--that's natural. It's dead human. It's been +done before, an' I'm sure guessin' it'll be done again. It's not you. +It's--it's nature--human nature. Say, Miss Joan, you ain't got the +lessons of these hills right yet. Folks out here are diffrent to city +folks. That is, their ways of doin' the same things are diff'rent. We +feel the same--that's because we're made the same--but we act +diff'rent. If I'd bin around, I'd have shot Ike--with a whole heap of +pleasure. An' if I had, wher's the cuss on you? Kissin' a gal like +that can't be done around here." + +"But Pete was not here. He didn't know." + +Joan was quick to grasp the weakness of his argument. + +"It don't matter a cent," cried Buck, his teeth clipping his words. +"He needed his med'cine--an' got it." + +Joan sighed hopelessly. + +"You don't understand, and--and I can't tell it you all. Sometimes I +feel I could kill myself. How can I help realizing the truth? It is +forced on me. I am a leper, a--a pariah." + +The girl leant back on her cushions, and her whole despairing attitude +became an appeal to his manhood. The last vestige of Buck's jealousy +passed from him. He longed to tell her all there was in his heart. He +longed to take her in his arms and comfort her, and protect her from +every shadow the whole wide world held for her. He longed to tell her +of the love that was his, and how no power on earth could change it. +But he did none of these things. + +"The things you're callin' yourself don't sound wholesome," he said +simply. "I can't see they fit in anyway. Guess they ain't natural." + +Joan caught at the word. + +"Natural!" she cried. "Is any of it natural?" She laughed +hysterically. + +Buck nodded. + +"It's all natural," he said. "You've hit it. You don't need my word. +Jest you ask the Padre. He'll give it you all. He'll tell you jest how +notions can make a cuss of any life, an' how to get shut of sech +notions. He's taught me, an' he'll teach you. I can't jest pass his +words on. They don't git the same meaning when I say 'em. I ain't wise +to that sort of thing. But ther's things I am wise to, and they're the +things he's taught me. You're feeling mean, mean an' miser'ble, that +makes me ter'ble mean to see. Say, Miss Joan, I ain't much handin' +advice. I ain't got brain enough to hand that sort of thing around, +but I'd sure ask you to say right here ther' ain't no cuss on your +life, an' never was. You jest guess there's a cuss around chasin' +glory at your expense. Wal, git right up, an' grit your teeth an' +fight good. Don't sit around feeling mean. If you'd do that, I tell +you that cuss'll hit the trail so quick you won't git time to see it, +an' you'll bust yourself laffin' to think you ever tho't it was around +your layout. An' before I done talkin' I'll ast you to remember that +when menfolks git around insultin' a helpless gal, cuss or no cuss, +he's goin' to git his med'cine good--an' from me." + +Buck's effort had its reward. The smile that had gradually found its +way into his own eyes caught something of a reflection in those of the +girl. He had dragged her from the depths of her despair by the force +of the frank courage that was his. He had lifted her by the sheer +strength and human honesty which lay at the foundation of his whole, +simple nature. Joan sighed, and it was an acknowledgment of his +success. + +"Thank you, Buck," she said gently. "You are always so good to me. You +have been so ever since I came. And goodness knows you have little +enough reason for it, seeing it is I who have turned you out of this +home of yours----" + +"We got your money," interrupted Buck, almost brusquely. "This farm +was the Padre's. You never turned me out. An' say, the Padre don't +live a big ways from here. Maybe you'd like him to tell you about +cusses an' things." His eyes twinkled. "He's sure great on cusses." + +But Joan did not respond to the lightness of his manner, and Buck +realized that her trouble was still strong upon her. + +He waited anxiously, watching for the signs of her acceptance of his +invitation. But they were not forthcoming. The deep violet of her eyes +seemed to grow deeper with a weight of thought, and gradually the +man's hopes sank. He had wanted her to see his friend, he had wanted +his friend to see her. But more than all he had wanted to welcome her +to his own home. Nor was the reason of his desire clear even to +himself. + +At last she rose from her seat and crossed over to the window, just as +the sound of voices heralded the return of Mrs. Ransford and the hired +man. It was at that moment she turned to him, speaking over her +shoulder. + +"They've got back," she said. "What are you going to do?" + +"Send those--others--on into camp." + +"Yes." Joan shivered. + +Then she came back to him, and stood with one hand resting on the +table. + +"I--I think I should like to see the Padre. Will you take me to him +one day?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE BRIDGING OF YEARS + + +It was nearly a week later that Joan paid her visit to the fur fort. + +The Padre moved about the room a little uncertainly. Its plainness +troubled him, but its cleanliness was unquestionable. Both he and Buck +had spent over two hours, earlier in the day, setting the place to +rights and preparing for their visitor. + +He shook his head as he viewed the primitive condition of the +furniture. It was all very, very home-made. There was not one seat he +felt to be suitable to offer to a lady. He was very dissatisfied. +Dissatisfied with it all, and particularly with Buck for bringing Joan +to this wretched mountain abode. It would have been far better had he +called at the farm. It even occurred to him now as curious that he had +never done so before. + +Yet perhaps it was not so curious after all. He had been attached to +the home which had sheltered him all those years, the home his own two +hands had built. Yes, it was different making a place, building it, +driving every nail oneself, setting up every fence post, turning every +clod of soil. It was different to purchasing it, ready-made, or hiring +labor. He had no desire to go near the farm again. That, like other +things, had passed out of his life forever. + +Three times he rearranged the room in the vain hope of giving it an +added appearance of comfort, but the task was hopeless. Finally, he +sat down and lit his pipe, smiling at his almost childish desire that +his home should find favor in the eyes of the girl Buck was bringing +to see him. + +Buck had told him very little. He had spoken of the visit, and hinted +at Joan's desire for advice. He had been very vague. But then that was +Buck's way in some things. It was not often that he had need to go +into reasons in his intercourse with his friend. Such a perfect +understanding had always existed between them that they were rarely +discoursive. He had told the Padre of the shooting, and explained the +apparent cause. He had also told him of the reception of the news in +the camp, and how a small section of the older inhabitants had adopted +an attitude of resentment against the innocent cause of it. He had +shown him that there was plainly no sympathy, or very little, for Joan +when the story was told. And to the elder man this was disquieting. +Buck had treated it with the contempt of youth, but the Padre had +detected in it a food for graver thought than he let the boy +understand. + +It would be time enough to break up Buck's confidence should any +trouble develop. In the meantime he had understood that there was +something like real necessity for him to see this girl. If she needed +any help then it was plainly his duty to give it her. And, besides, +there was another reason. Buck desired this interview. + +He smiled to himself as he thought of the turn events had taken with +Buck. He must have been blind indeed if he had not seen from the very +first the way things were going. The boy had fallen hopelessly in love +with the first girl with whom he had definitely been brought into +contact. And why not? Yes, he was rather anxious to see and talk with +this girl who had set the boy's heart on fire. + +Yet it seemed strange. Buck had never been anything but a boy to him. +He had never really grown up. He was still the small, pathetic figure +he had first encountered on the trail-side. And now here he was +hopelessly, madly in love with a girl. He would never forget the fire +of jealousy that had lain behind his words when Buck had told him that +Ike had forcibly kissed her. + +His thought lost its more sympathetic note, and he became grave. Love +had come into this youngster's life, and he wondered in what direction +it would influence it. He knew well enough, no one better, how much +damage love could do. He knew well enough the other, and right side of +the picture. But Buck was an unusual experiment. Even to him, who knew +the boy so well, he was still something of a problem in many ways. One +thing was certain. He would get the trouble badly, and time alone +could show what ravages and complications might be forthcoming. + +He rose from his chair and knocked out his pipe. Then, in smiling +dismay, he sniffed the air. He had done the very thing he had meant to +avoid. He shook his white head, and opened wide both the window and +the door in the hope that the fresh mountain air would sweeten the +atmosphere before the girl's arrival. + +But his hopes were quickly dashed. As he took up his position in the +doorway, prepared to extend her the heartiest greeting, he heard the +clatter of hoofs on the trail, and the man and the girl rode into the +stockade. + +Buck had departed to perform his usual evening tasks. He had gone to +water and feed the horses, to "buck" cord-wood for the stove, and to +draw the water for their household purposes. He was full early with +his work, but he was anxious that the Padre and Joan should remain +undisturbed. Such was his faith in the Padre that he felt that on this +visit depended much of the girl's future peace of mind. + +Now the white-haired man and the girl were alone--alone with the ruddy +westering sun pouring in through window and door, in an almost +horizontal shaft of gracious light. Joan was sitting bending over the +cook-stove, her feet resting on the rack at the foot of the oven, her +hands outstretched to the warming glow of the fire. The evenings in +the hills, even in the height of summer, were never without a nip of +cold which drifted down from the dour, ages-old glaciers crowning the +distant peaks. She was talking, gazing into the glowing coals. She was +piecing out her story as it had been told her by her Aunt Mercy, +feeling that only with a full knowledge of it could this wise old +white-haired friend of Buck's understand and help her. + +The Padre was sitting close under the window. His back was turned to +it, so that his face was almost lost in the shadow. And it was as +well. As the story proceeded, as incident after incident was unfolded, +the man's face became gray with unspeakable emotion, and from robust +middle age he jumped to an old, old man. + +But Joan saw none of this. Never once did she turn her eyes in his +direction. She was lost in painful recollections of the hideous things +with which she seemed to be surrounded. She told him of her birth, +those strange circumstances which her aunt had told her of, and which +now, in her own cold words, sounded so like a fairy tale. She told him +of her father and her father's friend, the man who had always been his +evil genius. She told him of her father's sudden good fortune, and of +the swift-following disaster. She told him of his dreadful death at +the hands of his friend. Then she went on, mechanically reciting the +extraordinary events which had occurred to her--how, in each case +where men sought her regard and love, disaster had followed hard upon +their heels; how she had finally fled before the disaster which dogged +her; how she had come here, here where she thought she might be free +from associations so painful, only to find that escape was impossible. + +"I need not tell you what has happened since I came," she finished up +dully. "You know it all. They say I brought them their luck. Luck? Was +there ever such luck? First my coming cost a man's life, and now--now +Ike and Pete. What is to follow?" + +The Padre had not once interrupted her in her long story, and, even +now, as the last sound of her voice died out, it was some moments +before he spoke. + +The fire in the grate rustled and the cinders shook down. + +It was then that the girl stirred as though suddenly made aware of the +silence. Immediately the man's voice, cold--almost harsh, in contrast +to his usual tone, startled her. + +"'Rest' is not your name," he said. "You have changed your name--to +further aid your escape from----" + +"How do you know that?" Then the girl went on, wondering at the man's +quickness of understanding. "I had not intended telling you. But it +doesn't matter. Nothing seems to matter. Evidently my disguise is +useless with you. No, my name is not Rest. My father was Charles +Stanmore." + +The man made no reply. He did not move. His keen eyes were on the +red-gold hair so neatly coiled about the girl's head. His lips were +compressed, and a deep frown had disturbed the usual serenity of his +broad brow. + +For a moment Joan bowed her head, and her hands clasped tightly as +they were held toward the fire. Presently her voice sounded again. It +began low, held under a forced calm. + +"Is there no hope?" she implored him. "Buck said you could help me. +What have I done that these things should curse my life? I only want +peace--just a little peace. I am content to live and die just as I am. +I desire nothing more than to be left--alone." + +"Who told you--all this?" The Padre's voice had no sympathy. + +"My aunt. Aunt Mercy." + +"You were--happy before she told you?" + +"Yes." + +"Why did she tell you?" + +"I don't know. At least--yes, she told me so as to warn me. So that I +might avoid bringing disaster upon those whom I had no desire to +hurt." + +The Padre rose from his seat and crossed to where the girl was +sitting. He stood for a moment just behind her chair. Then, very +gently, he laid one sunburnt hand upon her shoulder. + +"Little girl," he said, with a wonderful kindliness that started the +long-threatened tears to the girl's eyes, "you've got a peck of +trouble inside that golden head of yours. But it's all in there. +There's none of it outside. Look back over all those things you've +told me. Every one of them. Just show me where your hand in them lies. +There is not a disaster that you have mentioned but what possesses its +perfectly logical, natural cause. There is not one that has not been +duplicated, triplicated, ah! dozens and dozens of times since this +quaint old world of ours began. You believe it is due to your +influence because a silly old woman catches you in an overwrought +moment and tells you so. She has implanted a parasite in your little +head that has stuck there and grown out of all proportion. Believe me, +child, you cannot influence the destinies of men. You have no say in +the matter. As we are made, so we must work out our own salvation. It +has been your lot to witness many disasters, but had these things +occurred with other girls as the central figure, would you have +attributed this hideous curse to their lives? Would you? Never. But +you readily attribute it to your own. I am an old man my dear; older +to-day, perhaps, by far than my years call for. I have seen so much of +misery and trouble that sometimes I have thought that all life is just +one long sea of disaster. But it isn't--unless we choose to make it +so. You are rapidly making yours such. You are naturally generous, and +kind, and sympathetic. These things you have allowed to develop in you +until they have become something approaching disease. Vampires sucking +out all your nervous strength. Abandon these things for a while. Live +the life the good God gave you. Enjoy your living moments as you were +intended to enjoy them. And be thankful that the sun rises each +morning, and that you can rise up from your bed refreshed and ready +for the full play of heart, and mind, and limbs. Disasters will go on +about you as they go on about me, and about us all. But they do not +belong to us. That is just life. That is just the world and its +scheme. There are lessons in all these things for us to learn--lessons +for the purification of our hearts, and not diseases for our silly, +weak brains. Now, little girl, I want you to promise that you will +endeavor to do as I say. Live a wholesome, healthy life. Enjoy all +that it is given you to enjoy. Where good can be done, do it. Where +evil lies, shun it. Forget all this that lies behind you, and--Live! +Evil is merely the absence of Good. Life is all Good. If we deny that +good, then there is Evil. Live your life with all its blessings, and +your God will bless _you_. This is your duty to yourself; to your +fellows; to life; to your God." + +Joan had risen from her seat. Her face was alight with a hope that had +not been there for many days. The man's words had taken hold of her. +Her troubled mind could not withstand them. He had inspired her with a +feeling of security she had not known for weeks. Her tears were no +longer tears of despair. They were tears of thankfulness and hope. But +when she spoke her words seemed utterly bald and meaningless to +express the wave of gratitude that flooded her heart. + +"I will; I will," she cried with glistening eyes. "Oh, Padre!" she +went on, with happy impulse, "you don't know what you've done for +me--you don't know----" + +"Then, child, do something for me." The man was smiling gravely down +into the bright, upturned face. "You must not live alone down there at +the farm. It is not good in a child so young as you. Get some +relative to come and share your home with you." + +"But I have no one--except my Aunt Mercy." + +"Ah!" + +"You see she is my only relative. But--but I think she would come if I +asked her." + +"Then ask her." + + * * * * * + +The Padre was sitting in the chair that Joan had occupied. He too was +bending over the stove with his hands outstretched to the warming +blaze. Perhaps he too was feeling the nip of the mountain air. Feeling +it more than usual to-night. Buck was sitting on the edge of the table +close by. He had just returned from taking Joan back to the farm. + +The young man's journey home had been made in a condition of mental +exhilaration which left him quite unconscious of all time and +distance. The change wrought in Joan had been magical, and Caesar, for +once in his life, felt the sharp spur of impatience in the man's eager +desire to reach his friend and speak something of the gratitude he +felt. + +But habit was strong upon Buck, and his gratitude found no outlet in +words when the moment came. Far from it. On his arrival he found the +Padre sitting at their fireside without even the most ordinary welcome +on his lips. A matter so unusual that it found Buck dumb, waiting for +the lead to come, as he knew it inevitably would, in the Padre's own +good time. + +It took longer than he expected, however, and it was not until he had +prepared their frugal supper that the elder man stirred from his moody +contemplation of the fire. + +He looked up, and a smile struggled painfully into his eyes. + +"Hungry, Buck?" he inquired. + +"So!" + +"Ah! then sit right down here, boy, an' light your pipe. There's +things I want to say--first." + +"Get right ahead." Buck drew up a chair, and obediently filled and lit +his pipe. + +"Life's pretty twisted," the Padre began, his steady gray eyes smiling +contemplatively. "So twisted, it makes you wonder some. That girl's +happier now, because I told her there were no such things as cusses. +Yes, it's all queer." + +He reached out and helped himself from Buck's tobacco pouch. Then he, +too, filled and lit his pipe. + +"You've never asked me why I live out here," he went on presently. +"Never since I've known you. Once or twice I've seen the question in +your eyes, but--it never stayed there long. You don't ask many +questions, do you, Buck?" + +The Padre puffed slowly at his pipe. His manner was that of a man +looking back upon matters which had suddenly acquired an added +interest for him. Yet the talk he desired to have with this youngster +inspired an ill-flavor. + +"If folks want to answer questions ther' ain't no need to ask 'em." +Buck's philosophy interested the other, and he nodded. + +"Just so. That's how it is with me--now. I want to tell you--what +you've never asked. You'll see the reason presently." + +Buck waited. His whole manner suggested indifference. Yet there was a +thoughtful look in his dark eyes. + +"That girl," the Padre went on, his gaze returning to a contemplation +of the fire. "She's put me in mind of something. She's reminded me how +full of twists and cranks life is. She's full of good. Full of good +thoughts and ideals. Yet life seems to take a delight in impressing +her with a burden so unwholesome as to come very nearly undoing all +the good it has endowed her with. It seems queer. It seems devilish +hard. But I generally notice the harder folk try in this world the +heavier the cross they have to carry. Maybe it's the law of fitness. +Maybe folks must bear a burden at their full capacity so that the +result may be a greater refining. I've thought a lot lately. Sometimes +I've thought it's better to sit around and--well, don't worry with +anything outside three meals a day. That's been in weak moments. You +see, we can't help our natures. If it's in us to do the best we +know--well, we're just going to do it, and--and hang the result." + +"H'm." Buck grunted and waited. + +"I was thinking of things around here," the other went on. "I was +wondering about the camp. It's a stinking hole now. It's full of +everything--rotten. Yet they think it's one huge success, and they +reckon we helped them to it." + +"How?" + +"Why, by feeding them when they were starving, and so making it +possible for them to hang on until Nature opened her treasure-house." + +Buck nodded. + +"I see." + +"All I see is--perhaps through our efforts--we've turned loose a hell +of drunkenness and debauchery upon earth. These people--perhaps +through our efforts--have been driven along the very path we would +rather have saved them from. The majority will end in disaster. Some +have already done so. But for our help this would not have been." + +"They'd jest have starved." + +"We should not have sold our farm, and Ike and Pete would have been +alive now." + +"In Ike's case it would have been a pity." + +The Padre smiled. He took Buck's protest for what it was worth. + +"Yes, life's pretty twisted. It's always been the same with me. +Wherever I've got busy trying to help those I had regard for I +generally managed to find my efforts working out with a result I never +reckoned on. That's why I am here." + +The Padre smoked on for some moments in silence. + +"I was hot-headed once," he went on presently. "I was so hot-headed +that I--I insulted the woman I loved. I insulted her beyond +forgiveness. You see, she didn't love me. She loved my greatest +friend. Still, that's another story. It's the friend I want to talk +about. He was a splendid fellow. A bright, impetuous gambler on the +New York Stock Exchange. We were both on Wall Street. I was a gambler +too. I was a lucky gambler, and he was an unlucky one. In spite of my +love for the woman, who loved him, it was my one great desire to help +him. My luck was such that I believed I could do it--my luck and my +conceit. You see, next to the woman I loved he was everything in the +world to me. Do you get that?" + +Buck nodded. + +"Well, in spite of all I could and did do, after a nice run of luck +which made me think his affairs had turned for the better, a spell of +the most terrible ill-luck set in. There was no checking it. He rode +headlong for a smash. I financed him time and again, nearly ruining +myself in my effort to save him. He took to drink badly. He grew +desperate in his gambling. In short, I saw he had given up all hope. +Again I did the best I could. I was always with him. My object was to +endeavor to keep him in check. In his drinking bouts I was with him, +and when he insisted on poker and other gambling I was there to take a +hand. If I hadn't done these things--well, others would have, but with +a different object. By a hundred devices I managed to minimize the bad +results of his wild, headstrong career. + +"Then the end came. Had I been less young, had I been less hopeful for +him, less wrapped up in him, I must have foreseen it. We were playing +cards in his apartments. His housekeeper and his baby girl were in a +distant room. They were in bed. You see, it was late at night. It was +the last hand. His luck had been diabolical, but the stakes were +comparatively low. I shall never forget the scene. His nerves were +completely shattered. He picked up his hand, glanced at it--we were +playing poker--jack pots--and flung it down. 'I'm done,' he cried, +and, kicking back his chair, rose from the table. He moved a pace away +as though to go to the side-table where the whisky and soda stood. I +thought he meant having a drink. His back was turned to me. The next +moment I heard shots. He seemed to stumble, swung round with a sort of +jerk, and fell face downward across the table. + +"I jumped to his assistance. But--he was dead. He had shot himself +through the heart and in the stomach. My horror? Well, it doesn't +matter now. I was utterly and completely unnerved. If I hadn't been +perhaps I should have acted differently. I should have called +his--housekeeper. I should have summoned the police--a doctor. But I +did none of these. My horror and grief were such that I--fled; fled +like the coward I was. Nor did I simply flee from the house. I left +everything, and fled from the city that night. It was not until some +days afterward that I realized what my going meant to me. You see, I +had left behind me, in his housekeeper, the woman I loved--and had +insulted past forgiveness. I was branded as his murderer. Do you see? +She loved him, and was his housekeeper. Oh, there was nothing wrong in +it! I knew that. His baby girl was the child of his dead wife. Several +times I thought of returning to establish my innocence, but somehow my +conduct and my story wouldn't have fitted in the eyes of a jury. +Besides, there was that insulted woman. She had accused me of the +murder. It was quite useless to go back. It meant throwing away my +life. It was not worth it. So I came here." + +Buck offered no comment for a long time. Comment seemed unnecessary. +The Padre watched him with eyes striving to conceal their anxiety. + +Finally, Buck put a question that seemed unnecessary. + +"Why d'you tell me now?" he asked. His pipe had gone out and he pushed +it into his hip-pocket. + +The Padre's smile was rather drawn. + +"Because of you. Because of my friend's--baby girl." + +"How?" + +"The child's name was Joan. Joan Rest is the daughter of Charles +Stanmore--the man I am accused of murdering. This afternoon I advised +her to have some one to live with her--a relative. She is sending for +the only one she has. It is her aunt, Stanmore's housekeeper--the +woman I insulted past forgiveness." + +Not for an instant did Buck's expression change. + +"Why did you advise--that?" he asked. + +The Padre's eyes suddenly lit with a subdued fire, and his answer came +with a passion such as Buck had never witnessed in him before. + +"Why? Why? Because you love this little Joan, daughter of my greatest +friend. Because I owe it to you--to her--to face my accusers and prove +my innocence." + +The two men looked long and earnestly into each other's eyes. Then the +Padre's voice, sharp and strident, sounded through the little room. + +"Well?" + +Buck rose from his seat. + +"Let's eat, Padre," he said calmly. "I'm mighty hungry." Then he came +a step nearer and gripped the elder man's hand. "I'm right with you, +when things--get busy." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +BEASLEY PLAYS THE GAME + + +Joan lost no time in carrying out the Padre's wishes. Such was her +changed mood, such was the strength of her new-born hope, such was the +wonderful healing his words had administered to her young mind, that, +for the time at least, her every cloud was dispersed, lost in a +perfect sheen of mental calm. + +The change occurred from the moment of her return home. So changed +indeed was she that her rough but faithful housekeeper, dull of +perception to all those things outside the narrow focus of her life in +domestic service, caught a faint glimpse of it without anything +approaching a proper understanding. She realized an added energy, +which seriously affected her own methods of performing her duties and +caused her to make a mental note that her young mistress was assuming +"airs" which did not fit in with her inexperience of those things +amidst which she, the farm-wife, had floundered all her life. She +heard her moving about the house, her joy and hope finding outlet in +song such as had never echoed through the place before. And promptly +she set this new phase down to the result of her associations with the +young "scallawag" Buck. She noted, too, an added care in her toilet, +and this inspired the portentous belief that she was "a-carryin' on" +with the same individual. But when it came to a general "turning-out" +of the living-rooms of the house, a matter which added an immense +amount of effort to her own daily duties, her protest found immediate +vent in no uncertain terms. + +It came while the midday dinner was in preparation. It rose to +boiling-point amidst the steam from her cooking pots. Finally it +bubbled over, much as might one of her own kettles. + +Joan was standing in the kitchen giving her orders preparatory to +departing to the camp, whither she was going to mail her letter to her +aunt at Beasley's store. + +"You see," she was saying, "I'll have to make some changes in the +house. I'm expecting my aunt from St. Ellis to come and stay with me. +She won't be able to do with the things which have been sufficient for +me. She will have my room. I shall buy new furniture for it. I shall +get Beasley to order it for me from Leeson Butte. Then I shall use the +little room next yours. And while we're making these changes we'll +have a general housecleaning. You might begin this afternoon on the +room I am going to move into." + +The old woman turned with a scarlet face. It may have been the result +of the heat of cooking. Then again it may have had other causes. + +"An' when, may I ast, do I make bricks?" she inquired with ponderous +sarcasm. + +Joan stood abashed for a moment. So unexpected was the retort, so much +was it at variance with her own mood that she had no answer ready, and +the other was left with the field to herself. + +"Now jest look right here, Miss Joan--ma'm," she cried, flourishing a +cooking spoon to point her words. "I ain't a woman of many words by no +means, as you might say, but what I sure says means what I mean, no +more an' no less, as the sayin' is. I've kep' house all my life, an' I +reckon ther's no female from St. Ellis ken show _me_. I've bin a wife +an' a mother, an' raised my offsprings till they died. I did fer a man +as knew wot's wot in my George D. An' if I suffered fer it, it was +jest because I know'd my duty an' did it, no matter the consequences +to me an' mine. I tell you right here, an' I'm a plain-spoken woman +who's honest, as the sayin' is, I turn out no house, nor room, nor +nothin' of an afternoon. I know my duty an' I do it. Ther's a chapter +of the Bible fer every day o' my life, an' it needs digestin' +good--with my dinner. An' I don't throw it up fer nobody." + +"But--but----" Joan began to protest, but the other brushed objection +aside with an added flourish of her spoon. + +"It ain't no use fer you to persuade, nor cajole, nor argify. What I +says goes fer jest so long as I'm willin' to accept your ter'ble +ordinary wages, which I say right here won't be fer a heap long time +if things don't change some. I'm a respectable woman an' wife that +was, but isn't, more's the pity, an' it ain't my way to chase around +the house a-screechin' at the top o' my voice jest as though I'd come +from a cirkis. You ain't got your mind on your work. You ain't got +your heart in it, singin' all over the house, like--like one o' them +brazen cirkis gals. No, nor wot with scallawags a-comin' around +sparkin' you, an' the boys shootin' theirselves dead over you, an' +folks in the camp a-callin' of you a Jony gal, I don't guess I'll need +to stay an' receive con--contamination, as you might say. That's how +I'm feelin'; an' bein' a plain woman, an' a 'specterble widow of +George D., who was a man every inch of him, mind you, if he had his +failin's, chasin' other folks' cattle, an' not readin' their brands +right, why, out it comes plump like a bad tooth you're mighty glad to +be rid of, as the sayin' is." + +The woman turned back to her cooking. Her manner was gravely +disapproving, and she had managed to convey a sting which somehow hurt +Joan far more than she was willing to admit. Her refusal to undertake +the added work was merely churlish and disconcerting, but those other +remarks raised a decided anger not untouched by a feeling of shame and +hurt. But Joan did not give way to any of these feelings in her reply. +She did the only dignified thing possible. + +"You need not wait until your dissatisfaction with me overwhelms you, +Mrs. Ransford," she said promptly. "I engaged you by the month, and I +shall be glad if you will leave me to-day month." Then she added with +a shadow of reproach: "Really, I thought you were made of better +stuff." + +But her attitude had a far different result to what she had expected. +She turned to go, preferring to avoid a further torrent of abuse from +the harsh old woman, when the spoon flourished in the air as the widow +of George D. swung round from her pots with an amazing alacrity. + +"You ain't chasin' me out, Miss Joan--ma'm?" she cried aghast, her +round eyes rolling in sudden distress. "Why, miss--ma'm, I never meant +no harm--that I didn't. Y' see I was jest sore hearin' them sayin' +things 'bout you in the camp, an' you a-singin' made me feel you +didn't care nuthin'. An' these scallawags a-comin' around a-sassin' +you, an' a-kissin' you, sort o' set my blood boilin'. No, miss--ma'm, +you ain't a-goin' to chase me out! You wouldn't now, would you?" she +appealed. "Jest say you won't, an' I'll have the house turned sheer +upside down 'fore you know wher' you are. There, jest think of it. You +may need some un to ke'p that scallawag Buck in his place. How you +goin' to set about him without me around? I ain't quittin' this day +month, am I, miss--ma'm?" + +The old woman's abject appeal was too much for Joan's soft heart, and +her smiling eyes swiftly told the waiting penitent that the sentence +was rescinded. Instantly the shadow was lifted from the troubled face. + +"It was your own fault, Mrs. Ransford," Joan said, struggling to +conceal her amusement. "However, if you want to stay----Well, I must +drive into the camp before dinner, and we'll see about the little room +when I return." + +"That we will, mum--miss. That we will," cried the farm-wife in +cordial relief as Joan hurried out of the room. + + * * * * * + +Joan drew up at Beasley's store just as that individual was preparing +to adjourn his labors for dinner. The man saw her coming from the door +of his newly-completed barn, and softly whistled to himself at the +sight of the slim, girlish figure sitting in the wagon behind the +heavy team of horses he had so long known as the Padre's. + +This was only the third time he had seen the girl abroad in the camp, +and he wondered at the object of her visit now. + +Whatever malice he bore her, and his malice was of a nature only to be +understood by his warped mind, his admiration was none the less for +it. Not a detail of her appearance escaped his quick, lustful eyes. +Her dainty white shirt-waist was covered by the lightest of dust +coats, and her pretty face was shadowed by a wide straw hat which +protected it from the sun's desperate rays. Her deeply-fringed eyes +shone out from the shade, and set the blood pulsing through the man's +veins. He saw the perfect oval of her fair face, with its ripe, full +lips and delicate, small nose, so perfect in shape, so regular in its +setting under her broad open brow. Her wonderful hair, that +ruddy-tinted mass of burnished gold which was her most striking +feature, made him suck in a whistling breath of sensual appreciation. +Without a moment's hesitation, hat in hand he went to meet her. + +As he came up his foxy eyes were alight with what he intended for a +grin of amiability. Whatever his peculiarly vindictive nature he was +more than ready to admit to himself the girl's charms. + +"Say, Miss Golden," he cried, purposely giving her the name the +popular voice had christened her, "it's real pleasant of you to get +around. Guess the camp's a mighty dull show without its lady citizens. +Maybe you'll step right up into my storeroom. I got a big line of new +goods in from Leeson. Y' see the saloon ain't for such as you," he +laughed. "Guess it does for the boys all right. I'm building a slap-up +store next--just dry goods an' notions. Things are booming right now. +They're booming so hard there's no keepin' pace. I'll tie your hosses +to this post." + +His manner was perfect in its amiability, but Joan detested it because +of the man. He could never disguise his personality, and Joan was +beginning to understand such personalities as his. + +"Thanks," she said coldly, as, taking advantage of his being occupied +with the horses, she jumped quickly from the vehicle. "I came to mail +a letter," she said, as she moved on up to the big barn which was +Beasley's temporary storehouse, "and to give you a rather large order +for furnishing and things." + +She produced a paper with her list of requirements, and handed it to +him. + +"You see, I'm refurnishing the farm," she went on, while the man +glanced an appreciative eye over the extensive order. "Can you do +those things?" she asked as he looked up from his perusal. + +"Why, yes. There's nothing difficult there. What we can't do here we +can send on to Leeson Butte for. I've got some elegant samples of +curtains just come along. Maybe you'll step inside?" + +In spite of her dislike of the man Joan had no hesitation in passing +into the storeroom. She had no desire in the world to miss the joy of +inspecting a fresh consignment of dry goods. She felt almost as +excited, and quite as much interested, as though she were visiting one +of the great stores in St. Ellis. + +In a few moments she was lost in a close inspection of the display. +Nor had she any thought, or wonder, that here in the wilderness, on +the banks of Yellow Creek, such things should already have found their +way. For a long time the keen man of business expended his arts of +persuasion upon her, and, by the time the girl had exhausted his +stock, he had netted a sound order. His satisfaction was very evident, +and now he was prepared to regard her rather as a woman than a +customer. + +"Makes you think some," he observed, with a wave of his hand in the +direction of the piled-up fabrics and unopened cases. Then he laughed +in a way that jarred upon the girl. "Ther's money to burn here. Money! +Whew!" Then his eyes became serious. "If it only lasts!" + +"Why shouldn't it?" asked Joan unsuspiciously. She had finished, and +was anxious to get away. But the man seemed to want to talk, and it +seemed churlish to deny him. + +Beasley shook his head, while his eyes devoured her appealing beauty. + +"It won't," he said decidedly. "It's too big--too rich. Besides----" + +"Besides what?" + +The man's eyes had lost their grin. They were the eyes of the real +man. + +"It's--devil's luck. I've said it all along. Only ther's sech plaguey +knowalls around they won't believe it. Buck now--I got nothing against +Buck. He's a good citizen. But he's got a streak o' yeller in him, an' +don't hold with no devil's luck. Maybe you remember." He grinned +unpleasantly into the girl's eyes. + +She remembered well enough. She was not likely to forget the manner in +which Buck had come to her help. She flushed slightly. + +"What do you mean by 'a streak of yellow'?" she demanded coldly. + +"It don't need a heap of explaining. He's soft on mission talk." + +Joan's flush deepened. This man had a mean way of putting things. + +"If you mean that he doesn't believe in--in superstitions, and that +sort of thing, if you mean he's just a straightforward, +honest-thinking man--well, I agree with you." + +Beasley was enjoying the spectacle of the warmth which prompted her +defense. She was devilish pretty, he admitted to himself. + +"Maybe you feel that way," he said, in a tone that jarred. "Say," he +went on shrewdly, "I'm no sucker, I'm not one of these slobs chasin' +gold they're eager to hand on to the first guy holdin' out his hand. +I'm out to make a pile. I had a claim in the ballot. Maybe it's a good +claim. I ain't troubled to see. Why? I'll tell you. Maybe I'd have +taken a few thousand dollars out of it. Maybe a heap. Maybe only a +little. Not good--with all these slobs around." He shook his head. "I +figured I'd git the lot if I traded. I'd get the show of _all_ of the +claims. See? The 'strike' ain't goin' to last. It's a pocket in the +hill, an' it'll peter out just as dead sure as--well as can be. An' +when it's petered out there's going to be jest one feller around here +who's made a profit--an' it ain't one of those who used the +sluice-boxes. No, you can believe what you like. This 'strike' was +jest a devil's laugh at folks who know no better. An' master Buck has +handed you something of devil's luck when he made you take that gold." + +There was something very keen about this man, and in another Joan +might have admired it; but Beasley's mind was tainted with such a +vicious meanness that admiration was impossible. + +"I don't believe it," said Joan staunchly. "Neither does Buck. He +would never willingly hand me the trouble you suggest." + +Her words were the result of an impetuous defense of the absent man. +To hear this man attack Buck was infuriating. But the moment she had +uttered them, the moment she had seen their effect, that meaning laugh +which they brought to the storekeeper's lips, she wished they had +never been spoken. + +"Don't guess Buck needs to scrap fer himself with you around, Miss +Golden," he laughed. "Gee! He's in luck. I wonder!" + +Joan choked back her swift-rising indignation. The man wasn't worth +it, she told herself, and hurriedly prepared to depart. But Beasley +had no intention of letting her go like that. + +"I wonder whether he is in luck, though," he went on quickly, in a +tone he knew the girl would not be able to resist. His estimate was +right. She made no further move to go. + +"How?" she asked. + +"Oh, nuthin' of consequence," he said aggravatingly. "I was just +thinking of the way folks are talking." Then he laughed right out; and +if Joan had only understood the man she would have known that his +merriment was but the precursor of something still more unpleasant. + +But such natures as his were quite foreign to her. She merely +instinctively disliked him. + +"What do you mean?" she asked unsuspiciously. + +Beasley was serious again, and wore an air of deprecation when he +answered her. + +"Oh!" he exclaimed, "'tain't nuthin'. Y' see folks are always most +ready to gas around. It's 'bout them two boys. They're hot about 'em. +Y' see Pete was a mighty popular feller, an' Ike had good friends. Y' +see they were always good spenders--an' most folks like good +spenders. But ther'--'tain't nuthin' that needs tellin' you. Guess +it'll only make a dandy gal like you feel mean." + +The man's purpose must have been evident to anybody less simple than +Joan. As it was she jumped at the bait so skilfully held out. + +"But you must tell me," she said, remembering Mrs. Ransford's remarks. +"I insist on knowing if it is anything concerning me." + +Beasley's air was perfect. His eyes were as frankly regretful as he +could make them. + +"Wal," he said, "it certainly does concern you--but I'd rather not say +it." + +"Go on." + +Joan's face was coldly haughty. + +"I wouldn't take it too mean," said Beasley warningly. "I sure +wouldn't. You see folks say a heap o' things that is trash. They guess +it's your doin' 'bout them boys. They reckon you played 'em one ag'in +t'other for their wads, an' both o' them ag'in--Buck. Y' see--mind I'm +jest tellin' you cos you asked--they guess you ast 'em both to supper +that evenin'. Pete said he was ast, an' Ike let on the same. You ast +'em both for the fun of the racket. An' you had Buck around to watch +the fun. Yes, they're pretty hot. An' you can't blame 'em, believin' +as they do. One of 'em--I forget who it rightly was--he called you the +camp Jonah. Said just as long as you wer' around ther'd be trouble. He +was all for askin' you to clear right out. He said more than that, but +I don't guess you need to know it all." + +"But I do need to know it all. I need to know all they said, and--who +said it." + +Joan's eyes were blazing. Beasley made no attempt to conceal his +satisfaction, and went on at once-- + +"Course I can't give you names. But the facts I don't guess I'm likely +to forget--they made me so riled. They said that farm of yours was +just a blind. It--it was--well, you'd come along here for all you +could get--an' that----" + +Joan cut him short. + +"That's enough," she cried. "You needn't tell me any more. I--I +understand. Oh, the brutal, heartless ruffians! Tell me. Who was it +said these things? I demand to know. I insist on the names. Oh!" + +The girl's exasperation was even greater than Beasley had hoped for. +He read, too, the shame and hurt underlying it, and his satisfaction +was intense. He felt that he was paying her off for some of the +obvious dislike she had always shown him, and it pleased him as it +always pleased him when his mischief went home. But now, having +achieved his end, he promptly set about wriggling clear of +consequences, which was ever his method. + +"I'd like to give you the names," he said frankly. "But I can't. You +see, when fellers are drunk they say things they don't mean, an' it +wouldn't be fair to give them away. I jest told you so you'd be on +your guard--just to tell you the folks are riled. But it ain't as bad +as it seems. I shut 'em up quick, feeling that no decent citizen could +stand an' hear a pretty gal slandered like that. An' I'll tell you +this, Miss Golden, you owe me something for the way I made 'em quit. +Still," he added, with a leer, "I don't need payment. You see, I was +just playin' the game." + +Joan was still furious. And somehow his wriggling did not ring true +even in her simple ears. + +"Then you won't tell me who it was?" she cried. + +Beasley shook his head. + +"Nuthin' doin'," he said facetiously. + +"Then you--you are a despicable coward," she cried. "You--oh!" And she +almost fled out of the hated creature's storeroom. + +Beasley looked after her. The satisfaction had gone from his eyes, +leaving them wholly vindictive. + +"Coward, am I, ma'm!" he muttered. Then he looked at the order for +furniture which was still in his hand. + +The sight of it made him laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +BUCK LAUGHS AT FATE + + +The telling of the Padre's story cost Buck a wakeful night. It was not +that he had any doubts either of the truth of the story, or of his +friend. He needed no evidence to convince him of either. Or rather, +such was his nature that no evidence could have broken his faith and +friendship. Strength and loyalty were the key-note of his whole life. +To him the Padre was little less than a god, in whom nothing could +shake his belief. He honored him above all men in the world, and, such +as it was, his own life, his strength, his every nerve, were at his +service. Moreover, it is probable that his loyalty would have been no +whit the less had the man pleaded guilty to the crime he was accused +of. + +No, it was not the story he had listened to which kept him wakeful. It +was not the rights or wrongs, or the significance of it, that inspired +his unrest. It was something of a far more personal note. + +It was the full awakening of a mind and heart to a true understanding +of themselves. And the manner of his awakening had been little short +of staggering. He loved, and his love had risen up before his eyes in +a manner the full meaning of which he had only just realized. It was +his friend who had brought about his awakening, his friend who had put +into brief words that which had been to him nothing but a delicious +dream. + +The man's words rang through his brain the night long. + +"Why? Why?" they said. "Because you love this little Joan, daughter of +my greatest friend. Because I owe it to you--to her, to face my +accusers and prove my innocence." + +That brief passionate declaration had changed the whole outlook of his +life. The old days, the old thoughts, the old unexpressed feelings and +hazy ambitions had gone--swept away in one wave of absorbing passion. +There was neither future nor past to him now. He lived in the thought +of this woman's delightful presence, and beyond that he could see +nothing. + +Vaguely he knew that much must lay before him. The past, well, that +was nothing. He understood that the drift of life's stream could no +longer carry him along without his own effort at guidance. He knew +that somewhere beyond this dream a great battle of Life lay waiting +for his participation. He felt that henceforth he was one of those +struggling units he had always regarded as outside his life. And all +because of this wonderful sunlight of love which shone deep into the +remotest cells of brain and heart. He felt strong for whatever lay +before him. This perfect sunshine, so harmonious with every feeling, +thrilled him with a virile longing to go out and proclaim his defiance +against the waiting hordes in Life's eternal battle. No road could be +so rough as to leave him shrinking, no fight so fierce that he was not +confident of victory, no trouble so great that it could not be borne +with perfect cheerfulness. As he had awakened to love so had he +awakened to life, yearning and eager. + +As the long night wore on his thought became clearer, more definite. +So that before his eyes closed at last in a broken slumber he came to +many decisions for the immediate future. The greatest, the most +momentous of these was that he must see Joan again without delay. He +tried to view this in perfect coolness, but though the decision +remained with him the fever of doubt and despair seized him, and he +became the victim of every fear known to the human lover's heart. To +him who had never known the meaning of fear his dread became tenfold +appalling. He must see her--and perhaps for the last time in his life. +This interview might well terminate once and for all every thought of +earthly happiness, and fling him back upon the meagre solace of a +wilderness, which now, without Joan, would be desolation indeed. + +Yet he knew that the chances must be faced now and at once. For +himself he would probably have delayed, rather basking in the sunshine +of uncertainty than risk witnessing the swift gathering clouds which +must rob him of all light forever. But he was not thinking only of +himself. There was that other, that white-haired, lonely man who had +said, "Because you love this little Joan." + +The wonderful unselfishness of the Padre had a greater power to stir +Buck's heart than any other appeal. His sacrifice must not be +permitted without a struggle. He knew the man, and he knew how useless +mere objection would be. Therefore his duty lay plain before him. Joan +must decide, and on her decision must his plans all be founded. He had +no reason to hope for a return of his love. On the contrary, it seemed +absurd even to hope, and in such an event then the Padre's sacrifice +would be unnecessary. If on the other hand--but he dared not let the +thought take shape. All he knew was that with Joan at his side no +power of law should touch one single white hair of the Padre's head, +while the breath of life remained in his body. + +It was a big thought in the midst of the most selfish of human +passions. It was a thought so wide, that, in every aspect, it spoke of +the great world which had been this man's lifelong study. It told of +sublime lessons well learned. Of a mind and heart as big, and broad, +and loyal as was the book from which the lessons had been studied. + +With the morning light came a further steadiness of decision. But with +it also came an added apprehension, and lack of mental peace. The +world was radiant about him with the wonder of his love, but his +horizon was lost in a mist of uncertainty and even dread. + +The morning dragged as such intervening hours ever drag, but at length +they were done with, and the momentous time arrived. Neither he nor +the Padre had referred again to their talk. That was their way. Nor +did any question pass between them until Caesar stood saddled before +the door. + +The Padre was leaning against the door casing with his pipe in his +mouth. His steady eyes were gravely thoughtful. + +"Where you making this afternoon?" he inquired, as Buck swung into the +saddle. + +Buck nodded in the direction of Joan's home. + +"The farm." + +The Padre's eyes smiled kindly. + +"Good luck," he said. And Buck nodded his thanks as he rode away. + +But Buck's outward calm was studied. For once in his life his +confidence had utterly failed him. He rode over the trail in a dazed +condition which left him almost hopeless by the time he reached the +familiar corrals of the girl's home. As a consequence he reduced +Caesar's pace to a walk with something almost childlike in his desire +to postpone what he now felt must be his farewell to the wonderful +dream that had been his. + +But even at a walk the journey must come to an end. In his case it +came all too soon for his peace of mind, and, to his added disquiet, +he found himself at the door of the old barn. Just for one moment he +hesitated. Then he lightly dropped to the ground. The next moment the +horse itself had taken the initiative. With none of its master's +scruples it clattered into the barn, and, walking straight into its +old familiar stall, commenced to search in the corners of the manger +for the sweet-scented hay usually awaiting it. + +The lead was irresistible to the man. He followed the creature in, +removed its bridle and loosened the cinchas of the saddle. Then he +went out in search of hay. + +His quest occupied several minutes. But finally he returned with an +ample armful and filled up the manger. Then came upon him a further +avalanche of doubt, and he stood beside his horse, stupidly smoothing +the beautiful creature's warm, velvet neck while it nuzzled its +fodder. + +"Why--is that you, Buck?" + +The exclamation startled the man out of his reverie and set his pulses +hammering madly. He turned to behold Joan framed in the doorway. For a +moment he stared stupidly at her, his dark eyes almost fearful. Then +his answer came quietly, distinctly, and without a tremor to betray +the feelings which really stirred him. + +"It surely is," he said. Then he added, "I didn't know I was coming +along when you were up at the fort yesterday." + +But Joan was thinking only how glad she was of his coming. His +explanation did not matter in the least. She had been home from the +camp something over an hour, and had seen some one ride up to the barn +without recognizing Buck or the familiar Caesar. So she had hastened to +investigate. Something of her gladness at sight of him was in the +manner of her greeting now, and Buck's despondency began to fall from +him as he realized her unfeigned pleasure. + +"I'm so glad you came," Joan went on impulsively. "So glad, so glad. +I've been in camp to order things for--for my aunt's coming. You know +your Padre told me to send for her. I mailed the letter this morning." + +"You--sent for your aunt?" + +In a moment the whole hideous position of the Padre came upon him, +smothering all his own personal feelings, all his pleasure, all his +doubts and fears. + +"Why--yes." Joan's eyes opened wide in alarm. "Have I done wrong? He +said, send for her." + +Buck shook his head and moved out of the stall. + +"You sure done dead right. The Padre said it." + +"Then what was the meaning in your--what you said?" + +Buck smiled. + +"Nothing--just nothing." + +Joan eyed him a moment in some doubt. Then she passed the matter over, +and again the pleasure at his coming shone forth. + +"Oh, Buck," she cried, "there are some mean people in the world. I've +been talking to that horror, Beasley. He is a horror, isn't he? He's +been telling me something of the talk of the camp. He's been telling +me how--how popular I am," she finished up with a mirthless laugh. + +"Popular? I--I don't get you." + +Buck's whole expression had changed at the mention of Beasley's name. +Joan had no reason to inquire his opinion of the storekeeper. + +"You wouldn't," she hastened on. "You could never understand such +wicked meanness as that man is capable of. I'm sure he hates me, and +only told me these--these things to make me miserable. And I was +feeling so happy, too, after seeing your Padre," she added +regretfully. + +"An' what are the things he's been sayin'?" + +Buck's jaws were set. + +"Oh, I can't tell you what he said, except--except that the men think +I'm responsible for the death of those two. The other things were too +awful. It seems I'm--I'm the talk of the camp in--in an awful way. He +says they hate me. But I believe it's simply him. You see, he's tried +to--to ingratiate himself with me--oh, it's some time back, and +I--well, I never could stand him, after that time when the boys gave +me the gold. I wish they had never given me that gold. He still +persists it's unlucky, and I--I'm beginning to think so, too." + +"Did he--insult you?" Buck asked sharply, ignoring the rest. + +Joan looked quickly into the man's hot eyes, and in that moment +realized the necessity for prudence. The fierce spirit was shining +there. That only partly tamed spirit, which made her so glad when she +thought of it. + +"Oh, no," she said. "It wasn't that he insulted me. No--no. Don't +think that. Only he went out of his way to tell me these things, to +make me miserable. I was angry then, but I've got over it now. It--it +doesn't matter. You see I just told you because--because----" + +"If that man insulted you, I'd--kill him!" + +Buck had drawn nearer to her. His tall figure was leaning forward, and +his eyes, so fiercely alight, burned down into hers in a manner that +half frightened her, yet carried with it a feeling that thrilled her +heart with an almost painful delight. There was something so magnetic +in this man's outburst, something so sweeping to her responsive +nature. It was almost as though he had taken her in his two strong +hands and made her yield obedience to his dominating will. It gave her +a strange and wonderful confidence. It made her feel as if this power +of his must possess the same convincing strength for the rest of the +world. That he must sway all who came into contact with him. Her +gladness at his visit increased. It was good to feel that he was near +at hand. + +But her woman's mind sought to restrain him. + +"Please--please don't talk like that," she said, in a tone that +carried no real conviction. "No, Beasley would not dare insult me--for +himself." + +The girl drew back to the oat-box, and seated herself. Buck's moment +of passion had brought a deep flush to his cheeks, and his dark eyes +moved restlessly. + +"Why did you tell me?" + +There was no escaping the swift directness of this man's mind. His +question came with little less force than had been his threat against +Beasley. He was still lashed by his thought of the wretched +saloon-keeper. + +But Joan had no answer ready. Why had she told him? She knew. She knew +in a vague sort of way. She had told him because she had been sure of +his sympathy. She had told him because she knew his strength, and to +lean on that always helped her. Without questioning herself, or her +feelings, she had come to rely upon him in all things. + +But his sharp interrogation had given her pause. She repeated his +question to herself, and somehow found herself avoiding his gaze. +Somehow she could give him no answer. + +Buck chafed for a moment in desperate silence. He turned his hot eyes +toward the door, and stared out at the distant hills. Caesar rattled +his collar chain, and scattered the hay in his search for the choicest +morsels. The heavy draft horses were slumbering where they stood. +Presently the man's eyes came back to the girl, devouring the beauty +of her still averted face. + +"Say," he went on presently, "you never felt so that your head would +burst, so that the only thing worth while doin' would be to kill some +one?" He smiled. "That's how I feel, when I know Beasley's been +talkin' to you." + +Joan turned to him with a responsive smile. She was glad he was +talking again. A strange discomfort, a nervousness not altogether +unpleasant had somehow taken hold of her, and the sound of his voice +relieved her. + +She shook her head. + +"No," she said frankly. "I--don't think I ever feel that way. But I +don't like Beasley." + +Buck's heat had passed. He laughed. + +"That was sure a fool question to ask," he said. "Say, it 'ud be like +askin' a dove to get busy with a gun." + +"I've heard doves are by no means the gentle creatures popular belief +would have them." + +"Guess ther's doves--an' doves," Buck said enigmatically. "I can't +jest see you bustin' to hurt a fly." + +"Not even Beasley?" + +Joan laughed slily. + +But Buck ignored the challenge. He stirred restlessly. He thrust his +fingers into the side pockets of the waist-coat he wore hanging open. +He withdrew them, and shifted his feet. Then, with a sudden, impatient +movement, he thrust his slouch hat back from his forehead. + +"Guess I can't say these things right," he gulped out with a swift, +impulsive rush. "What I want to say is that's how I feel when anything +happens amiss your way. I want to say it don't matter if it's Beasley, +or--or jest things that can't be helped. I want to get around and set +'em right for you----" + +Joan's eyes were startled. A sudden pallor had replaced the smile on +her lips, and drained the rich, warm color from her cheeks. + +"You've always done those things for me, Buck," she interrupted him +hastily. "You've been the kindest--the best----" + +"Don't say those things," Buck broke in with a hardly restrained +passion. "It hurts to hear 'em. Kindest? Best? Say, when a man feels +same as me, words like them hurt, hurt right in through here," he +tapped his chest with an awkward gesture. "They drive a man nigh +crazy. A man don't want to hear them from the woman he loves. Yes, +loves!" + +The man's dark eyes were burning, and as the girl rose from her seat +he reached out one brown hand to detain her. But his gesture was +needless. She made no move to go. She stood before him, her proud +young face now flushing, now pale with emotion, her wonderful eyes +veiled lest he should read in their depths feelings that she was +struggling to conceal. Her rounded bosom rose and fell with the +furious beatings of a heart she could not still. + +"No, no," the man rushed on, "you got to hear me, if it makes you hate +me fer the rest of your life. I'm nothing but jest a plain feller +who's lived all his life in this back country. I've got no education, +nothin' but jest what I am--here. An' I love you, I love you like +nothing else in all the world. Say," he went on, the first hot rush of +his words checking, "I bin gropin' around these hills learning all +that's bin set there for me to learn. I tried to learn my lessons +right. I done my best. But this one thing they couldn't teach me. +Something which I guess most every feller's got to learn some time. +An' you've taught me that. + +"Say." The restraint lost its power, and the man's great passion swept +him on in a swift torrent. "I never knew a gal since I was raised. I +never knew how she could git right hold of your heart, an' make the +rest of the world seem nothing. I never knew how jest one woman could +set the sun shining when her blue eyes smiled, and the storm of +thunder crowding over, when those eyes were full of tears. I never +dreamed how she could get around in fancy, and walk by your side +smilin' and talkin' to you when you wandered over these lonesome hills +at your work. I never knew how she could come along an' raise you up +when you're down, an' most everything looks black. I've learned these +things now. I've learned 'em because you taught me." + +He laughed with a sort of defiance at what he felt must sound +ridiculous in her ears. "You asked me to teach you! Me teach you! Say, +it's you taught me--everything. It's you taught me life ain't just a +day's work an' a night's sleep. It's you taught me that life's a +wonderful, wonderful dream of joy an' delight. It's you taught me the +sun's shining just for _me_ alone, an' every breath of these mountains +is just to make _me_ feel good. It's you taught me to feel there's +nothing on God's earth I couldn't and wouldn't do to make you happy. +You, who taught me to Live! You, with your wonderful blue eyes, an' +your beautiful, beautiful face. You, with your mind as white an' pure +as the mountain snow, an' your heart as precious as the gold our folks +are forever chasin'. I love you, Joan. I love you, every moment I +live. I love you so my two hands ain't enough by a hundred to get +helping you. I love you better than all the world. You're jest--jest +my whole life!" + +He stood with his arms outstretched toward the shrinking girl. His +whole body was shaking with the passion that had sent his words +pouring in a tide of unthought, unconsidered appeal. He had no +understanding of whither his words had carried him. All he knew was +that he loved this girl with his whole soul and body. That she could +love him in return was something unbelievable, yet he must tell her. +He must tell her all that was in his simple heart. + +He waited. It seemed ages, but in reality it was only moments. + +Presently Joan looked up. She raised her eyes timidly, and in a moment +Buck saw that they were filled with unshed tears. He started forward, +but she shrank back farther. But it was not with repugnance. Her +movement was almost reluctant, yet it was decided. It was sufficient +for the man, and slowly, hopelessly he dropped his arms to his sides +as the girl's voice so full of distress at last broke the silence. + +"Oh, Buck, Buck, why--oh, why have you said these things to me? You +don't know what you have done. Oh, it was cruel of you." + +"Cruel?" Buck started. The color faded from his cheeks. "Me cruel--to +you?" + +"Yes, yes. Don't you understand? Can't you see? Now--now there is +nothing left but--disaster. Oh, to think that I should have brought +this upon you--you of all men!" + +Buck's eyes suddenly lit. Unversed as he was in all such matters, he +was not blind to the feeling underlying her words. But the light +swiftly died from his eyes as he beheld the great tears roll slowly +down the girl's fair cheeks, and her face droop forward into her +hands. + +In a moment all restraint was banished in the uprising of his great +love. Without a thought of consequences he bridged the intervening +space at one step, and, in an instant, his arms were about the slim, +yielding figure he so tenderly loved. In a moment his voice, low, +tender, yet wonderful in its consoling strength, was encouraging her. + +"Disaster?" he said. "Disaster because I love you? Where? How? Say, +there's no disaster in my love for you. There can't be. All I ask, all +I need is jest to make your path--easier. Your troubles ain't yours +any longer. They sure ain't. They're mine, now, if you'll jest hand +'em to me. Disaster? No, no, little gal. Don't you to cry. Don't. Your +eyes weren't made for cryin'. They're jest given you to be a man's +hope. For you to see just how much love he's got for you." + +Joan submitted to his embrace for just so long as he was speaking. +Then she looked up with terrified eyes and released herself. + +"No, no, Buck. I must not listen. I dare not. It is my fate. My +terrible fate. You don't understand. Beasley was right. I _was_ +responsible for Ike's death. For Pete's death. But not in the way he +meant. It is my curse. They loved me, and--disaster followed +instantly. Can't you see? Can't you see? Oh, my dear, can't you see +that this same disaster must dog you--now?" + +Buck stared. Then he gathered himself together. + +"Your fate?" + +"Yes, yes. I am cursed. Oh," Joan suddenly gave a shrill laugh that +was painful to hear. "Every man that has ever told me--what you have +told me--has met with disaster, and--death." + +For one second no sound broke the stillness of the barn but the +restless movements of Caesar. Then, suddenly, a laugh, a clear, buoyant +laugh, full of defiance, full of incredulity, rang through the +building. + +It was Buck. He moved forward, and in a moment the girl was lying +close upon his breast. + +"Is that the reason you mustn't, daren't, listen to me?" he cried, in +a voice thrilling with hope and confidence. "Is that the only reason? +Jest because of death an' disaster to me? Jest that, an'--nothing +more? Tell me, little gal. Tell me or--or I'll go mad." + +"Yes, yes. But oh, you don't----" + +"Yes, I do. Say, Joan, my little, little gal. Tell me. Tell me right +now. You ain't--hatin' me for--for loving you so bad. Tell me." + +Joan hid her face, and the tall man had to bend low to catch her +words. + +"I couldn't hate you, Buck. I--I----" + +But Buck heard no more. He almost forcibly lifted the beautiful, +tearful face to his, as he bent and smothered it with kisses. + +After a few moments he stood her away from him, holding her slight +shoulders, one in each hand. His dark eyes were glowing with a wild +happiness, a wonderful, reckless fire, as he peered into her blushing +face. + +"You love me, little gal? You love me? Was ther' ever such a thought +in the mind of sane man? You love me? The great big God's been mighty +good to me. Disaster? Death? Let all the powers of man or devil come +along, an' I'll drive 'em back to the hell they belong to." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +IRONY + + +The hills roll away, banking on every side, mounting up, pile on pile, +like the mighty waves of a storm-swept ocean. The darkening splendor, +the magnificent ruggedness crowds down upon the narrow open places +with a strange sense of oppression, almost of desolation. It seems as +if nothing on earth could ever be so great as that magnificent world, +nothing could ever be so small as the life which peoples it. + +The oppression, the desolation grows. The silent shadows of the +endless woods crowd with a suggestion of horrors untold, of mysteries +too profound to be even guessed at. A strange feeling as of a reign of +enchantment pervading sets the flesh of the superstitious creeping. +And the narrow, patchy sunlight, by its brilliant contrast, only +serves to aggravate the sensitive nerves. + +Yet in the woods lurk few enough dangers. It is only their dark +stillness. They are still, still in the calm of the brightest day, or +in the chill of a windless night. A timid bear, a wolf who spends its +desolate life in dismal protest against a solitary fate, the crashing +rush of a startled caribou, the deliberate bellow of a bull moose, +strayed far south from its northern fastnesses. These are the harmless +creatures peopling the obscure recesses. For the rest, they are the +weird suggestions of a sensitive imagination. + +The awe, however, is undeniable and the mind of man can never wholly +escape it. Familiarity may temper, but inborn human superstition is +indestructible. The brooding silence will shadow the lightest nature. +The storms must ever inspire wonder. The gloom hushes the voice. And +so the growing dread. Man may curse the hills in his brutal moments, +the thoughtful may be driven to despair, the laughter-loving may seek +solace in tears of depression. But the fascination clings. There is no +escape. The cloy of the seductive drug holds to that world of mystery, +and they come to it again, and yet again. + +Something of all this was vaguely drifting through the mind of one of +the occupants of a four-horsed, two-wheeled spring cart as it rose +upon the monstrous shoulder of one of the greater hills. Before it lay +a view of a dark and wild descent, sloping away unto the very bowels +of a pit of gloom. The trail was vague and bush-grown, and crowding +trees dangerously narrowed it. To the right the hill fell sharply away +at the edge of the track, an abyss that might well have been +bottomless for aught that could be seen from above. To the left the +crown of the hill rose sheer and barren, and only at its foot grew the +vegetation that so perilously narrowed the track. Then, ahead, where +the trail vanished, a misty hollow, dark and deep--the narrowing walls +of a black canyon. + +The blue eyes of the teamster were troubled. Was there ever such a +country for white man to travel? His horses were jaded. Their lean +sides were tuckered. Gray streaks of sweat scored them from shoulder +to flank. + +The man lolled heavily in his driving seat in the manner of the +prairie teamster. He knew there was trouble ahead, but it was +practically all he did know of the journey before him. + +As the cart topped the rise he bestirred himself. His whip flicked the +air without touching the horses, and he chirrupped encouragingly. The +weary but willing creatures raised their drooping heads, their ribs +expanded as they drew their "tugs" taut, and, at a slow, shuffling +trot, they began the descent. + +A voice from behind caused the man to glance swiftly over his +shoulder. + +"It's no use asking you where we are now, I suppose?" it said in a +peevish tone. + +But the teamster's mood was its match. + +"Not a heap, I guess, ma'm," he retorted, and gave up his attention to +avoiding the precipice on his right. + +"How far is the place supposed to be?" + +The woman's unease was very evident. Her eyes were upon the darkening +walls of the canyon toward which they were traveling. + +"Eighty miles from Crowsfoot. That's how the boss said, anyways." + +"How far have we come now?" + +The man laughed. There seemed to be something humorous in his +passenger's inquiries. + +"Crowsfoot to Snarth's farm, thirty-five miles, good. Snarth's to +Rattler Head, thirty. Sixty-five. Fifteen into this precious camp on +Yellow Creek. Guess we bin comin' along good since sun-up, an' now +it's noon. Countin' our stop fer breakfast we ought to make thirty odd +miles. Guess we come a good hundred." He laughed again. + +The woman gave an exclamation of impatience and vexation. + +"I think your employer ought to be ashamed of himself sending you to +do the journey. You don't know where you are, or what direction we're +going in. The horses are nearly foundered, and we may be miles and +miles from our destination. What are you going to do?" + +"Ke'p goin' jest as long as the hosses ken ke'p foot to the ground. +Guess we'll ease 'em at the bottom, here. It's nigh feed time. Say, +ma'm, it ain't no use worritin'. We'll git som'eres sure. The sun's +dead ahead." + +"What's the use of that?" Mercy Lascelles snapped at the man's easy +acceptance of the situation. "I wish now I'd come by Leeson Butte." + +"That's sure how the boss said," retorted the man. "The Leeson trail +is the right one. It's a good trail, an' I know most every inch of it. +You was set comin' round through the hills. Guessed you'd had enough +prairie on the railroad. It's up to you. Howsum, we'll make somewheres +by nightfall. Seems to me I got a notion o' that hill, yonder. That +one, out there," he went on, pointing with his whip at a bald, black +cone rising in the distance against the sky. "That kind o' seems like +the peak o' Devil's Hill. I ain't jest sure, but it seems like." + +Mercy looked in the direction. Her eyes were more angry than anxious, +yet anxiety was her principal feeling. + +"I hope to goodness it is. Devil's Hill. A nice name. That's where the +camp is, isn't it? I wish you'd hurry on." + +The teamster spat over the dashboard. A grim smile crept into his +eyes. His passenger had worried him with troublesome questions all +the journey, and he had long since given up cursing his boss for +sending him on the job. + +"'Tain't no use," he said shortly. Then he explained. "Y' see, it 'ud +be easy droppin' over the side of this. Guess you ain't yearnin' fer +glory that way?" + +"We'll never get in at this pace," the woman cried impatiently. + +But the teamster was losing patience, too. Suddenly he became very +polite, and his pale blue eyes smiled mischievously down upon his +horses' backs. + +"Guess we don't need to hurry a heap, ma'm," he said. "Y' see, in +these hills you never can tell. Now we're headin' fer that yer canyon. +Maybe the trail ends right ther'." + +"Good gracious, man, then what are we going to do?" + +"Do? Why, y' see, ma'm, we'll have to break a fresh trail--if that +dogone holler ain't one o' them bottomless muskegs," he added +thoughtfully. + +He flicked his whip and spat again. His passenger's voice rose to a +sharp staccato. + +"Then for goodness' sake why go on?" she demanded. + +"Wal, y' see, you can't never tell till you get ther' in these hills. +Maybe that canyon is a river, an' if so the entrance to it's nigh sure +a muskeg. A bottomless muskeg. You seen 'em, ain't you? No? Wal, +they're swamps, an' if we get into one, why, I guess ther's jest Hail +Columby, or some other fool thing waitin' for us at the bottom. Still +ther' mayn't be no muskeg. As I sez, you never can tell, tho' ther' +most gener'ly is. Mebbe that's jest a blank wall without no trail. +Mebbe this trail ends at a sheer drop of a few hundred feet an' more. +Mebbe agin the trail peters out 'fore we get ther'. That's the way in +these yer hills, ma'm; you never can tell if you get lost. An' gittin' +lost is so mighty easy. Course we ain't likely to starve till we've +eat up these yer dogone ol' hosses. Never eaten hoss? No? 'Tain't so +bad. Course water's easy, if you don't light on one o' them fever +swamps. Mountain fever's pretty bad. Still, I don't guess we'll git +worried that way, ma'm. I'd sure say you're pretty tough fer mountain +fever to git a holt of. It's the time that's the wust. It might take +us weeks gittin' out,--once you git lost proper. But even so I don't +guess ther's nothin' wuss than timber wolves to worry us. They're +mean. Y' see they're nigh allus starvin'--or guess they are. B'ars +don't count a heap, less you kind o' run into 'em at breedin' season. +Le's see, this is August. No, 'tain't breedin' season." He sighed as +if relieved. Then he stirred quickly and glanced round, his face +perfectly serious. "Guess you got a gun? It's allus good to hev a gun +round. You never ken tell in these yer hills--when you git lost +proper." + +"Oh, you're a perfect fool. Go on with your driving." Mercy sat back +in her seat fuming, while the teamster sighed, gently smiling down at +his horses. + +"Mebbe you're right, ma'm," he said amiably. "These dogone hills makes +fools o' most fellers, when they git lost proper--as I'd sure say we +are now." + +But the man had achieved his object. The woman desisted from further +questioning. She sat quite still, conscious of the unpleasant fact +that the man was laughing at her, and also perfectly aware that his +incompetence was responsible for the fact that they were utterly lost +amongst the wild hills about them. + +She was very angry. Angry with the man, angry with herself, for not +being guided by the hotel keeper at Crowsfoot, but more than all she +was angry with Joan for bidding her make the journey. + +Yet she had been unable to resist the girl's appeal. Her inability was +not from any sentimental feeling or sympathy. Such feelings could +never touch her. But the appeal of the manner in which her curse still +followed the girl, and the details she had read through the lines of +her letter, a letter detailing the circumstances of her life on Yellow +Creek, and written under the impulse and hope inspired by the Padre's +support had given her the keenest interest. All the mystical side of +her nature had been stirred in a manner she could not deny, had no +desire to deny. + +Yes, she had come to investigate, to observe, to seek the truth of her +own pronouncement. She had come without scruple, to watch their +effect. To weigh them in the balance of her scientific mysticism. She +had come to watch the struggles of the young girl in the toils which +enveloped her. Her mind was the diseased mind of the fanatic, prompted +by a nature in which cruelty held chief place. + +But now had come this delay. Such was her nature that personal danger +ever appalled her. Death and disaster in the abstract were nothing to +her, but their shadows brushing her own person was something more than +terrifying. And as she thought of the immensity of the world about +her, the gloom, the awful hush, the spirit of the hills got hold of +her and left her full of apprehension. + +The teamster now devoted his whole attention to his whereabouts. His +passenger's interminable questioning silenced, he felt more at his +ease. And feeling at his ease he was able to bring his prairie-trained +faculties to bear on the matter in hand. As they progressed down the +slope he closely observed the tall, distant crown which he thought he +recognized, and finally made up his mind that his estimate was right. +It certainly was the cone crown of Devil's Hill. Thus his certainty +now only left him concerned with the ultimate development of the trail +they were on. + +It was quite impossible to tell what that might be. The road seemed to +be making directly for the mouth of the canyon, and yet all his +experience warned him that such a destination would be unusual. It +must turn away. Yet where? How? + +He searched ahead on the hillside above him for a modification of its +slope. And a long way ahead he fancied he detected such an indication. +But even so, the modification was so slight that there seemed little +enough hope. + +He kept on with dogged persistence. To return was not to be thought of +yet. Any approach to vacillation now would be quite fatal. + +The trail was fading out to little more than a double cattle track, +and the farther he looked along it the more indistinct it seemed to +become. Yet it continued, and the ever downward slope went on, and on. + +His anxious eyes were painfully alert. Where? Where? He was asking +himself with every jog of his weary horses. Then all of a sudden his +questions ceased, and a decided relief leapt into his eyes as he drew +his horses up to a halt. + +He turned to his passenger and pointed with his whip at the hill +abreast of them, his eyes undoubtedly witnessing his relief. + +"See that, ma'm?" he cried. And Mercy beheld a narrow, rough flight of +steps cut in the face of the hill. Each step was deliberately +protected with a timber facing securely staked against "washouts," and +though the workmanship was rough it was evidently the handiwork of men +who thought only of endurance. It rose from the trail-side in a +slanting direction, and, adopting the easiest course on the slope, +wound its way to the very crown of the hill, over the top of which it +vanished. + +"Well?" + +The woman's inquiry was ungracious enough. + +"Why, that's the meanin' o' this yer trail." The man pointed above. +"That sure leads somewheres." + +"I suppose it does." + +Mercy snapped her reply. + +"Sure," said the man. "There's shelter up ther', anyways. An' by the +looks o' them steps I'd say folks is livin' ther' right now." + +"Then for goodness' sake go up and see, and don't sit there wasting +time. I never had to deal with such a perfect fool in my life. Pass +the reins over to me, and I'll wait here." + +The man grinned. But instead of handing her the reins he secured them +to the iron rail of the cart. + +"Guess them hosses know best wot to do 'emselves," he observed +quietly, as he scrambled from the cart. "Best let 'em stand +theirselves, ma'm,--you never know wot's along the end of that +trail--muskegs is----" His final jibe was lost in a deep-throated +chuckle as he began the steep ascent before him. + +Mercy watched him with angry eyes. The man added impertinence to his +foolishness, and the combination was altogether too much for her +temper. But for the fact that she required his services, she would +well have wished that he might fall and break his neck. But her chief +concern was to reach her destination, so she watched him climb the +long steps in the hope that some comforting result might follow. + +As the man rose higher and higher, and his figure grew smaller, his +climb possessed an even greater interest for Mercy Lascelles than she +admitted. She began to appreciate the peril of it, and peril, in +others, always held her fascinated. + +He was forced to move slowly, clinging closely with both hands to the +steps above him. It would be easy to slip and fall, and she waited for +that fall. She waited with nerves straining and every faculty alert. + +So absorbed was she that she had forgotten the horses, forgotten her +own position, everything, in the interest of the moment. Had it been +otherwise, she must have noticed that something had attracted the +drooping horses' attention. She must have observed the suddenly lifted +heads, and pricked ears. But these things passed her by, as did the +approach of a solitary figure bearing a burden of freshly taken fox +pelts, which quite enveloped its massive shoulders. + +The man was approaching round a slight bend in the trail, and the +moment the waiting cart came into view, he stood, startled at the +apparition. Then he whistled softly, and glanced back over the road he +had come. He looked at a narrow point where the trail suddenly ended, +a sharp break where the cliff dropped away abruptly, and further +progress could only be made by an exhausting downward climb by a +skilled mountaineer. + +Then he came slowly on, his gray eyes closely scrutinizing the figure +in the cart. In a moment he saw that it was a woman, and, by her +drooping pose, recognized that she was by no means young. His eyes +took on a curious expression--half doubt, half wonder, and his face +grew a shade paler under his tan. But the change only lasted a few +seconds. He quickly pulled himself together, and, shaking his white +head thoughtfully, continued his way toward the vehicle with the +noiseless gait which moccasins ever give to the wearer. He reached the +cart quite unobserved. The woman's whole attention was absorbed by the +climbing man, and the newcomer smiled curiously as he passed a +greeting. + +"You've hit a wrong trail, haven't you?" he inquired. + +The woman in the cart gave a frantic start, and clutched at the side +rail as though for support. Then her eyes came on a level with the +man's smiling face, and fear gave way to a sudden expression of +relentless hatred. + +"You?" she cried, and her lean figure seemed to crouch as though about +to spring. + +The man returned her stare without flinching. His eyes still wore +their curious smile. + +"Yes," he said. "It is I." + +The woman's lips moved. She swallowed as though her throat had +suddenly become parched. + +"Moreton Bucklaw," she murmured. "And--and after all these years." + +The man nodded. Then several moments passed without a word. + +Finally it was the man who spoke. His manner was calm, so calm that +no one could have guessed a single detail of what lay between these +two, or the significance of their strange meeting. + +"You've hit a bad trail," he said. "There's a big drop back there. +These steps go on up to my home. The old fort. They're an old short +cut to this valley. Guess your man'll need to unhitch his horses and +turn the cart round. He can't get it round else. Then, if you go back +past the shoulder of the hill, you'll see an old track, sharp to your +right. That leads into the trail that'll take you right on down to the +farm where little Joan lives." He moved toward the steps. "I'll tell +your man," he said. + +He mounted the steps with the ease of familiarity, his great muscles +making the effort appear ridiculously easy. A little way up he paused, +and looked down at her. + +"Guess I shall see you again?" he said, with the same curious smile in +his steady eyes. + +And the woman's reply came sharply up the hillside to him. It came +with all the pent-up hatred of years, concentrated into one sentence. +The hard eyes were alight with a cold fury, which, now, in her +advancing years, when the freshness and beauty that had once been hers +could no longer soften them, was not without its effect upon the man. + +"Yes. You will see me again, Moreton Bucklaw." + +And the man continued the ascent with a feeling as though he had +listened to the pronouncement of his death sentence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE WEB OF FATE + + +Joan had looked forward to her aunt's coming with very mixed feelings. +There were moments when she was frankly glad at the prospect of a +companionship which had been hers since her earliest childhood. Her +nature had no malice in it, and the undoubted care, which, in her +early years, the strange old woman had bestowed upon her counted for +much in her understanding of duty and gratitude. Then, besides, +whatever Aunt Mercy's outlook, whatever the unwholesomeness of the +profession she followed with fanatical adherence, she was used to her, +used to her strangenesses, her dark moments. If affection had never +been particularly apparent in the elder woman's attitude toward her, +there had certainly been a uniform avoidance of the display of any +other feeling until those last few days immediately preceding her own +flight from St. Ellis. Habit was strong with Joan, so strong, indeed, +that in her happy moments she was glad at the thought of the return +into her life of the woman who had taken the place of her dead +parents. + +Then, too, even the memory of that frenzied morning, when Aunt Mercy, +laboring under her awful disease of mysticism, had assumed the role +of prophetess, and accuser, and hurled at her troubled head a +denunciation as cruel as it was impossible, had lost something of its +dread significance and sting. At the time it had been of a blasting +nature, but now--now, since she had conferred with Buck's great +friend, since Buck's wonderful support had been added to her life, all +the harshness of the past appeared in a new and mellowed light. She +believed she saw her aunt as she really was, a poor, torn creature, +whose mind was diseased, as a result of those early fires of +disappointment through which she had passed. + +The Padre had denied the fate that this aunt had convinced her of. +Buck had defied it, and laughed it out of countenance. These men, so +strong, so capable, had communicated to her receptive nature something +of the hope and strength that was theirs. Thus she was ready to +believe, to stand shoulder to shoulder with them, feeling that in the +future nothing could hurt her. So she was ready for her aunt's coming. + +But to live up to her determination was not always easy. She had +yielded to all her old superstitious dread at the moment when Buck had +first opened her eyes to the wonderful love that had so silently, so +unknown, yet so swiftly grown up in her heart for him. In that +delicious awakening, when lost in a joy almost inconceivable, when her +defenses were at their weakest, the enemy's attack had come swiftly +and surely. Her very love had aided it. Her dread for the man had +gripped her heart, and all her mind and senses had gone back to the +unspeakable fears she had only just learnt to deny. Nor was it until +his denial, a denial given with that wonderful laugh of confidence, +had she been able to drag herself back to the new path which his +white-haired friend had marked out for her. + +Since then, however, she had been able to contemplate her aunt's +coming in something of the spirit in which she desired to welcome +her. She felt that now, at least, she was proof against the +unwholesome thought of the woman's diseased mind. There were certain +unacknowledged trepidations as the time drew near, but these she +contrived to smother under the excitement and interest of preparing +her house for the reception, and the radiant confidence of Buck, which +never failed to support her. + +Every morning and every evening brought Buck's strong presence to the +farm for a brief visit. And each visit was a dream of delight to the +simple, loving girl. All day long, as she labored through her +household cares, and the affairs of the farm she lived in, she dwelt +on the memory of the morning visit, or looked forward to her lover's +coming as the sun reached the western skies. Every night, when she +sought the snow-white ease of her bed, it was to spend her few +remaining minutes of waking dwelling on the happiness of past moments, +and ultimately to anticipate in dreams the delights of the morrow. + +So the days sped rapidly by and the time for Aunt Mercy's arrival drew +on. And with each passing day the shadows receded, her trepidations +became less and less, until they almost reached the vanishing-point. +She felt that in Buck's love no shadow could live. With him at her +side she need have no fear of evil. He was exalted by the very +wholesomeness of his mind and heart, and the strength and confidence +that was his, far, far above the level of hideous superstitions and +happenings. His love for her, her love for him were too great, far too +great, for disaster to ever touch them. + +Then came Aunt Mercy. + +She came in the middle of an oppressive afternoon. The days of late +had assumed an extraordinary oppressiveness for the season of the +year. She came amidst the peaceful calm when all farm life seems to be +wrapped in a restful somnolence, when the animal world has spent its +morning energies, and seeks rest that it may recuperate for the +affairs surrounding its evening meal. + +With her coming Joan's first realization was of dismay at the manner +in which she had underestimated the woman's personality, how strangely +absence had distorted her view of the mind behind those hard, gray +eyes. And with this realization came an uneasy feeling that the power +and influence which had sent her rushing headlong from her home, to +seek the peace of the wilderness, was no fancy of a weak, girlish +mind, but a force, a strong, living force, which made itself felt the +instant she came into the woman's uncanny presence again. + +She was just the same unyielding creature she had always known. Her +peevish plaint at the journey, her railing at the stupidity and +impertinence of the teamster, her expressed disgust at the country, +her complaining of everything. These things were just what Joan must +have expected, had she not lived away from her aunt, and so lost her +proper focus. Joan did her best to appease her. She strove by every +art of her simple mind to interest her and divert her thought and mood +into channels less harsh. But she had little success, and it quickly +became apparent that the lapse of time since her going from home had +aggravated rather than improved the strange mental condition under +which her aunt labored. + +After the first greetings, and Joan had conducted her to her room, +which she had spent infinite time and thought in arranging, the old +woman remained there to rest until supper-time. Then she reappeared, +and, by the signs of her worn, ascetic face, the cruel hollows about +those adamant eyes, the drawn cheeks and furrowed brow, the girl +realized that rest with her was not easy to achieve. She saw every +sign in her now that in the old days she had learned to dread so +acutely. + +However, there was no help for it. She knew it was not in the nature +of that busy brain to rest, and one day the breaking-point would be +reached, and the end would come suddenly. + +But at supper-time there was a definite change in her aunt's mental +attitude. Whereas before her whole thought had been for the outpouring +of her complaint at her personal discomforts, now all that seemed to +have been forgotten in something which held her alert and watchful. +Joan had no thought or suspicion of the working of the swift-moving +brain. Only was she pleased, almost delighted at the questioning and +evident interest in her own affairs. + +The meal was nearly over. Aunt Mercy, as was her habit, had eaten +sparingly, while she alternately listened to the details of the girl's +farm life, the manner of the gold camp, the history of her arrival +there and the many vicissitudes which had followed, and voiced the +questions of her inquisitorial mind. Now she leant back in her chair +and slowly sipped a cup of strong, milkless tea, while her eyes +watched the girl's expressive face. + +Joan had purposely avoided mention of the many details which had had +such power to disturb her in the past. She had no desire to afford a +reopening of the scene she had endured that morning at St. Ellis. But +Mercy Lascelles was not to be thwarted by any such simple subterfuge. + +"You've told me a lot of what doesn't matter," she said sharply, after +a pause, while she sipped her tea. "Now tell me something that does." +She glanced down at the flashing diamond rings upon her fingers. "By +your letter you have not escaped from those things you hoped to--when +you left St. Ellis." + +Joan started. She was sitting with her elbows on the table, her chin +resting on her clasped hands. Mercy Lascelles observed the start, but +offered no comment. She waited. She could afford to wait. She had read +and understood the girl's letter. Besides, there was something else in +her mind. Something else which required piecing into the web which +linked their lives together. She knew that it held an important place, +but its exact position her busy brain was still groping to resolve. + +"Do you want me to talk about--those things?" the girl asked half +appealingly. "Is it necessary? I am very happy, auntie, so happy that +I don't want to risk losing a moment of it. I have not always been +happy since I came here." + +The hard, gray eyes suddenly lifted to the girl's face, and there was +mocking in their depths. + +"You mentioned them light-heartedly enough in your letter. You spoke +of the death of two men to point your assurance that their death had +nothing to do with your--fate. Some one had reassured you. Some one +had made plain the absurdity that such a fate could ever be. Some one +had shown you that such convictions only lived in the human mind and +had no actual place in the scheme of things. Surely with this +wonderful truth behind you, you need not shrink from details of things +which have no connection with your life." + +The icy sarcasm would not be denied. It was the old note Joan had been +so familiar with. Its sting was as poignant as ever, but somehow now +it stirred her to a defense of those who had come to her aid in her +direst need. + +But this was her aunt's first day on the farm. She felt she must +restrain herself. She tried to smile, but it was a weakly attempt. + +"You are quite unchanged, auntie," she said. + +"I might say the same of you, Joan," came the sharp retort. + +But Joan shook her head. + +"You would be quite wrong. I have changed so much that you can never +make me believe again in--all that which you made me believe before. +Let me be frank. Nothing but my conviction that I am no more cursed by +an evil fate than is every other living creature would have induced me +to ask you here. I have asked you to come here and share my home +because you are my aunt, my only relative, who has been good to me in +the past. Because I am lonely here without you, and--and--oh, don't +you understand? There are only us two left. Yes, I want to be with +you." She broke off, but in a moment went on rapidly. "But this could +never have been had I still believed what you made me believe. Under +that old shadow I would have gone to the ends of the world rather than +have been near you. Can't you understand? Let us forget it all--let us +begin a new life together." + +Mercy shook her head. She was quite unmoved by the girl's appeal. + +"There is only one life. There is no beginning again. Those who talk +like that are fools. That is why I say you, too, are unchanged." The +woman's eyes lit. They suddenly became filled with that cold fire +which Joan knew so well. "You think you are changed. You think by an +effort of will--your own, combined with that of another, you have +escaped that which has followed you from your birth. You think that +every disaster that has ever occurred to those with whom you have been +associated, and those who have belonged to you, can be accounted for +naturally. You, with your foolish brain, and the equally foolish brain +of that other. Why, girl, you deny it in every line of the letter you +wrote me. It is there--there in every word, in its very atmosphere. +You are lying to yourself under the influence of this other--who lies +to you. Prove what you say if you want me to believe. The scientific +mind must have proof, undeniable, irrefutable proof. Statements, mere +statements of unbelief are meaningless things which do not convince +even their authors. If you need to convince yourself, and convince me, +then engage yourself to some man, marry him, and I tell you now you +will bring about the direst tragedy that ever befel human creature." + +"I--I have done what--what you dare me to do. I have engaged myself to +marry. I am going to marry the man I love more than life itself." + +Joan had risen from her seat. She stood erect, her beautiful head +thrown back. An ecstatic light shone in the deep velvet softness of +her eyes. But even as she spoke a sudden paling lessened the delicate +bloom of her cheeks. + +The other, with her cold eyes leveled at her, was quick to observe. + +"And who is--your victim?" + +Joan's pallor increased as she stared for a moment with dilating eyes +at the woman who could be capable of such cruelty. Then, of a sudden, +a protest of such bitterness sprang to her lips that even Mercy +Lascelles was startled. + +"Oh, God, was there ever such callous heartlessness in human creature? +Was there ever such madness in sane woman? You ask me to prove my +convictions, you ask me for the one method by which even you can be +convinced, and when I show you how far my new faith has carried me you +taunt me by asking who is my--victim. Oh, aunt, for the love of all +you ever held dear, leave me in peace. Let me prove to you my own +destiny, but leave me in peace until I have done so, or--failed. Can +you not see that I am trying to preserve my sanity? And by every word +and look you are driving me to the verge of madness. The man I love +knows all, he and his great friend. He knows all you have ever told +me, and his love is the strongest and bravest. He laughs this fate to +scorn, he has no fears for himself, or for me. I tell you you shall +have your proof. But you must leave me in peace." + +For a moment it almost seemed as if her aunt were abashed at the +passion of her protest. She withdrew her cold stare, and, with her +jeweled hands folded in her lap, gazed down at the white table-cloth. +She waited until Joan dropped despairingly back into her chair, then +she looked up, and her glance was full of malicious irony. + +"You shall have your way--after to-night. You shall not hear one +word of warning from me. But to-night you must let me have my way. +You say you believe. I tell you I _know_. You must do your best, +and--fail. Have your way." She withdrew her gaze and her eyes became +introspective. "Who is this man--you say you are going to marry?" + +Joan warmed under the change in her aunt's manner. Her relief at the +other's assurance was almost boundless, although the effect of the +woman's previous attitude was to leave her far less sure of herself. + +"It is Buck," she said impulsively. "He is the great friend of the man +from whom I bought this farm. Oh, auntie, wait until you see him. You +will realize, as I have, his strength, his goodness. You will have no +doubts when you know him. You will understand that he has no fear of +any--any supernatural agencies, has no fear of any fancied fate that +may be awaiting him. Auntie, he is tall, so tall, and--oh, he's +wonderful. And his name, Buck--don't you like it? It is so like him. +Buck--independence, courage, confidence. And, oh, auntie, I love him +so." + +Mercy remained quite unmoved. It almost seemed doubtful if she heard +and understood all the simple girlishness in her niece's rhapsody, so +preoccupied she seemed with her own thoughts. + +"It was his friend, you say, who has taught you that--you have nothing +further to fear? And who is this paragon?" + +"He is the man who sold me the farm. He is such a good, kind creature. +He is loved and respected by every soul in the place. He is so wise, +too,--he is quite wonderful. You know, he only sold his farm to me to +keep the miners from starving before they found the gold. He is a sort +of foster-father to Buck. He found him when he was a little +boy--picked him up on the trail-side. That's about twenty years ago, +soon after the Padre--that's what they call him--first came here." + +"Yes, yes; but his name?" + +Mercy had little patience with such detail as interested the fresh +young mind of the girl. + +"Moreton Kenyon." + +The eyes of the old woman shot a swift glance into the girl's face. + +"Moreton--who?" + +"Kenyon." + +Mercy sat up in her chair. Her whole figure was poised alertly. Her +eyes were no longer uninterested. She was stirred to swift mental +activity. She knew that the web was readjusting itself. The portion +she had been seeking to place was finding its own position. + +"He has a head of thick white hair. He has gray eyes, darkly fringed. +He is a man of something over fifty. His shoulders are massive. His +limbs sturdy and powerful." + +Mercy detailed her description of the man in sharp, jerky sentences, +each one definite and pointed. She spoke with the certainty of +conviction. She was not questioning. + +Joan's surprise found vent in a wondering interrogation. + +"Then, you have seen him? You know him?" + +Her aunt laughed. It was a painful, hideous laugh, suggesting every +hateful feeling rather than mirth. Joan was shocked, and vaguely +wondered when she had ever before heard her aunt laugh. + +"Know him? Yes, I know him." The laugh was gone and a terrible look +had suddenly replaced the granite hardness of her eyes. "I have known +him all my life. I saw him only to-day, in the hills. He knew me. Oh, +yes, he knew me, and I knew him. We have reason to know each other. +But his name is not Moreton Kenyon. It is--Moreton Bucklaw." + +Joan's wonder gave place to alarm as the other's venomous manner +increased. The look in her eyes she recognized as the look she had +seen in the woman's eyes when she had first listened to the story of +her childhood. + +"Moreton Bucklaw?" + +"Yes, Moreton Bucklaw," her aunt cried, with sudden vehemence, which +seemed to grow with every word she spoke. "Moreton Bucklaw. Do you +understand? No, of course you don't. So this is your paragon of +goodness and wisdom. This is the man who has told you that your +fate only exists in distorted fancy. This is the man who is the +foster-father of your wonderful Buck, who defies the curse of disaster +which dogs your feet. Child, child, you have proved my words out of +your own lips. The disaster you deny is hard upon your heels, hard +upon the heels of this man you love. Your own hand, the hand even of +your lover, is in it. Was it fate that brought you here? Was it fate +that you should love this man? Was it fate that made my teamster lose +his way and so bring me face to face with this man, almost at the door +of his own home? Was it fate that brought me here? Yes, yes, yes! I +tell you it was fate that did all these things--your fate. The curse +from which you can never escape. Moreton Bucklaw!" She mouthed the +words with insane glee. "It is almost laughable," she cried. "You have +promised to marry the foster-son of the man who is shortly to pay the +penalty for the murder of--your father." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A BLACK NIGHT + + +The Padre sat staring into space before the stove. Buck was in his +favorite position at the open door, gazing out into the darkness of +the night. As he smoked his evening pipe he was thinking, as usual, of +the woman who was never quite out of his thoughts. He was intensely +happy in the quiet fashion that was so much a part of him. It seemed +to him unbelievable that he could have lived and been content before +he met Joan. Now there could be no life without her, no world even. +She pervaded his every sense, his whole being, with her beautiful +presence. + +He breathed deeply. Yes, it was all very, very wonderful. Then, by +degrees, his thoughts ran on to the expected arrival of Joan's +relative--that aunt whom he had heard so much about from the Padre. +And in a moment an uneasy feeling made him shift his position. The +Padre's story was still vivid in his mind; he could never forget it. +Nor could he forget this woman's place in it. These thoughts set him +speculating uneasily as to the possible result of her visit. + +He surreptitiously glanced over at the silent figure beside the stove. +The man's pipe was still in his mouth, but it had gone out. Also he +saw, in that quick glance, that the fire in the stove had fallen low. +But he made no move to replenish it. The night was very sultry. + +He turned again to his contemplation of the outer world. The night was +black, jet black. There was not a star visible. The mountain air had +lost its cool snap, the accustomed rustle of the woods was gone. There +was a tense stillness which jarred in an extraordinary degree. + +"A desperate, dark night," he said suddenly. He was merely voicing his +thought aloud. + +The sound of his voice roused the other from his reverie. The Padre +lifted his head and removed the pipe from between his teeth. + +"Yes--and hot. Throw us your tobacco." + +Buck pitched his pouch across, but remained where he was. + +"Guess that leddy's down at the farm by now," Buck went on. "Joan was +guessing she'd get around to-day. That's why I didn't go along there." + +"Yes, she is there." The Padre lit his pipe and smoked steadily. + +Buck turned quickly. + +"How d'you know?" + +"I met her on the trail. They missed their way this morning and hit +the trail below here, at the foot of the steps." + +"You didn't--let her see you?" Buck asked, after a pause. + +The Padre smiled. + +"I spoke to her. I put her on the right trail." + +"You spoke to her?" Buck's tone was half incredulous. "Did +she--recognize you?" + +The other nodded. + +"You see, I've not changed much--except for my hair." + +"What did she do--say?" + +The Padre's smile remained. + +"Said--I should see her again." + +For some moments the two men faced each other across the room. The +yellow lamplight plainly revealed their different expressions. The +Padre's smile was inimitable in its sphinx-like obscurity, but Buck's +eyes were frankly troubled. + +"And that means?" Buck's question rang sharply. + +"She has neither forgotten nor--forgiven." + +Buck returned abruptly to his contemplation of the night, but his +thoughts were no longer the happy thoughts of the lover. Without +knowing it he was proving to himself that there were other things in +the world which could entirely obscure the happy light which the +presence of Joan shed upon his life. + +The Padre sat back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, +while his pipe burned hot and the smoke of it rose thickly. It was the +only outward sign he gave of any emotion. Buck suddenly forgot the +night. A desperate thought was running hotly through his brain. His +friend's admission had set his fertile young brain working furiously. +It was traveling just whither a vivid imagination carried it. A +reckless purpose was swiftly formulating. + +After a while he turned again. His resolve was taken on the impulse of +the moment. + +"Padre," he said, "you shall never----" But his sentence remained +incomplete. He broke off, listening. + +The other was listening too. + +There was the sharp cracking of a forest tree--one of those mysterious +creakings which haunt the woodland night. But there was another sound +too. The trained ears of these men caught its meaning on the instant. +It was the vague and distant sound of wheels upon the soft bed of the +sandy trail. + +"A heavy wagon, an'--two hosses," said Buck. + +The Padre nodded. + +"Coming from the direction of the farm. Sounds like the old team,--and +they're being driven too fast for heavy horses. Joan hasn't got a +saddle-horse of her own." + +His last remark explained his conviction, and the suggestion found +concurrence in Buck's mind. + +They waited, and the sound grew louder. Then, without a word, Buck +passed out of the room. + +A few minutes later the rumble of wheels ceased, and the Padre heard +Buck's voice greeting Joan. + + * * * * * + +A tragic light shone in Joan's eyes as she stood in the centre of the +room glancing from her lover to his friend. She was searching for an +opening for what she had come to say. Her distraught brain was +overwhelmed with thoughts she could not put into words. She had driven +over with the heavy team and wagon because she had no other means of +reaching these two, and unless she reached them to-night she felt that +by morning her sanity must be gone. Now--now--she stood speechless +before them. Now, her brain refused to prompt her tongue. All was +chaos in her mind, and her eyes alone warned the men of the object of +her coming. + +It was the Padre's voice that finally guided her. He read without +hesitation or doubt the object of her mission. + +"Yes," he said simply. "I am Moreton Bucklaw, the man accused of your +father's murder." + +Suddenly the girl's head drooped forward, and her hands covered her +face as though to shut out the terrible truth which the man's words +conveyed. + +"O God!" she cried. "Then she was not lying to me." + +Buck's eyes, fierce, almost savage at the sight of the girl's despair, +shot a swift glance at his friend. It was a glance which only the +white-haired man could have understood. To the looker-on it would have +expressed a terrible threat. To the Padre it was the expression of a +heart torn to shreds between love and friendship. + +"If she told you I killed him--she was lying." + +The man had not raised his tone. There was no other emotion in his +manner than distress for the girl's suffering. + +Joan looked up, and a gleam of hope struggled through her despair. + +"Then it's not true? Oh, I knew it--I knew it! She _was_ lying to me. +She _was_ lying to me as she has always lied to me. Oh, thank God, +thank God!" She dropped back into the chair that had been placed for +her, but which up to that moment she had ignored. + +The two men waited for her emotion to pass. Buck as yet had nothing to +say. And the Padre knew that until she was mistress of herself words +would only be wasted. + +Presently she looked up. Her eyes were dry, and the agony that had +sent her upon her headlong mission was passing. The Padre's relief +showed in the smile with which he met her glance. Buck stood steadily +regarding her, longing to help her, but knowing that his time had not +come yet. + +"Tell me," she said, struggling hard for steadiness. "Tell me all--for +I--I cannot seem to understand anything." + +The Padre bowed his head. + +"You know your own story. It is all substantially true that Mercy +Lascelles has told you. All, that is, except that she claims I killed +your father. She did not see your father die. I did. I was the only +one who saw him die--by his own hand, a desperate and ruined man. +Listen, and I will tell you the whole story without concealing one +tittle of my own doings and motives." + +Half an hour passed while the man's even voice recited without emotion +all the details leading up to Charles Stanmore's death. He kept +nothing back--his own love for the then handsome Mercy, and the +passionate insult he had offered her, when, in her love for the dead +man, she became his housekeeper. He intended that, for Buck's sake, +this girl should know everything, nor had he the least desire for any +concealment on personal account. He did not spare his own folly and +the cowardice of his flight. He felt that concealment of any sort +could only injure Buck, whom at all costs he must not hurt. He even +analyzed, with all the logic at his command, Mercy Lascelles' motives +in accusing him. He declared his belief in her desire to marry the +widowed man and her own consequent hatred of himself, whose presence +was a constant thwart to her plans. + +And when he had finished something of the trouble had passed out of +the girl's eyes. The color had returned to her cheeks, and he knew +that he had achieved his purpose. + +"I suppose it is terrible to you, child, to hear me speak of your +aunt, one of your own sex, a blood relative, in this way," he said in +conclusion. "But I believe that she is absolutely mad in her hatred of +me. And now that she has discovered my whereabouts nothing less will +satisfy her than that I must stand my trial, and--go to the electric +chair. It is my purpose to stand my trial. It was for that reason, +when I recognized her this morning, before she even saw me, I +purposely thrust myself in her way. I intended that she should not +lack opportunity, and my reason--well, that doesn't much matter." + +The girl nodded. + +"I think I am glad of your decision," she said simply. "You see, when +you have established your innocence----" + +"I fear that result is--doubtful." + +The man's admission was quite frank. Nor was there even a suggestion +of regret in his voice. But Joan's heart gripped with alarm. The +thought of such a contingency had never occurred to her simple mind. +He had not committed murder. Then, of course, he was innocent. It had +all been made so simple. Now--now she was suddenly overwhelmed with a +new terror. + +"You mean--you cannot prove--your innocence?" she cried incredulously. + +"You forget I was the only man with him. I was the last person with +him. And--I fled when I should have stayed to--help. The circumstances +are terribly against me." + +Joan's throat had suddenly parched. She struggled to speak, but no +sound came. She looked to Buck for help and the man ran to her side. + +The gentle pressure of his protecting arm, as he rested one caressing +hand upon her shoulder, gave her the relief she needed. + +"Oh, Buck, Buck! For the love of Heaven say something--do something," +she appealed. "They will kill him for a crime--of which he is +innocent." + +Suddenly the Padre's eyes glowed with a strange light of happiness. +The girl's appeal to Buck had been the one saving touch in the midst +of the cloud of tribulation overshadowing him. The daughter of his +best friend, the daughter of the man he was supposed to have done to +death, had given her verdict. She believed in his innocence. He sighed +with the depth of his thankfulness. He could now face whatever lay +before him with perfect equanimity. + +But Buck had yet to play his part in the little drama so swiftly +working itself out. His part was far different to the passive attitude +of the other man. He had no tolerance for the possible sacrifice of an +innocent life at the demand of a crazy woman who had come so nearly +wrecking the life of the girl he loved. As Joan appealed to him his +eyes lit with a sudden fire of rebellion. And his answer came in a hot +rush. + +"You think I'm goin' to let him die, Joan?" he cried, the hot blood +staining his cheeks and brow. "I tell you he won't. I swear to you, +sure, sure, he shan't die a murderer's death! I tell you right here, +little gal, ther' ain't a sheriff in the country big enough to take +him. He says he must give up to arrest when the time comes. Wal, he'll +have to do it over my dead body." + +His words were in answer to Joan's appeal, but they were hurled at the +man beside the fire, and were a defiance and a challenge from the +depths of a loyal heart. + +The Padre's smile was good to see. But he shook his head. And +instantly Joan caught at the enthusiasm which stirred her lover and +hugged it to herself. She sprang to her feet, and a wonderful light +shone in her eyes. + +"Buck is right, Padre. He is right," she cried. "Do you hear? You +shall not take the risk, you must not. Oh, Padre! you must live for +our sakes. We know your innocence, then what more is needed after all +these years? For once let us be your mentors--you who have always been +the mentor of others. Padre, Padre, you owe this to us. Think of it! +Think of what it would mean. A murderer's death! You shall not, you +cannot give yourself up. Buck is right. I, too, am with him." + +She turned to the man at her side, and, raising her arms, clasped her +hands about his neck. + +"Buck--my Buck. Let us swear together that, while we have life, he +shall never be the victim of this crazy, terrible woman. It shall be +our fight--yours and mine." + +Buck gazed down into her beautiful, pleading eyes as he clasped her +slim body in his strong, young arms. Her eyes were alight with a love, +radiant in its supremacy over her whole being. Her championship of his +innocent friend would have endeared her a thousandfold had such a +thing been possible. In that moment it was as though her courage, her +loyalty, had completed the bond between them. His jaws gritted tight. +His eyes shone with a fervent resolution. + +"It goes, little gal," he cried. "It's our lives for his. It sure +goes--every time." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +BEASLEY IN HIS ELEMENT + + +The camp was sweltering under an abnormal heat. There was not one +breath of the usual invigorating mountain air. A few more degrees of +humidity, and the cup of endurance would have been filled to +overflowing and toiling humanity breathing something like sheer +moisture. The sky was heavy and gray, and a dull sun, as though it too +had been rendered faint-hearted, was painfully struggling against the +laden atmosphere. + +The work of the camp went on. For hours human nature wrestled with a +growing inertia which robbed effort of all snap. But gradually, as the +day wore on, the morning impetus gave way, and peevish tongues voiced +the general plaint. Men moved about slowly, their tongues actively +cursing. They cursed the heat as they mopped their dripping brows. +They cursed the flies, and hurled mighty blows for their destruction. +They cursed all work, and gold became the last thing in the world they +desired at such a price. They cursed the camp, the country, but more +than all they cursed the black hill from which they drew their living. + +Then came acknowledgment of defeat. One by one at first, and finally +in batches, they shouldered their tools and moodily withdrew from the +attack. As they went weary eyes glanced back with hate and disgust at +the frowning buttresses of the hill, with awe at the steaming cloud +hanging above the simmering waters of the suspended lake. The +depressing shadow of Devil's Hill had for the moment become +intolerable. + +Beasley hated the heat just as cordially as these toilers, but he +would have hated still more its sudden going, and the consequent +appeasement of unnatural thirsts, which it was his pleasure and profit +to slake. His own feelings were at all times subservient to his +business instincts. This sudden, unaccountable heat meant added profit +to him, therefore his complaint was half-hearted. It was almost as if +he feared to give offense to the gods of his good fortune. + +Then, too, Beasley had so many things to occupy his busy brain. His +trade was one that required much scheming, a matter in which he +reveled at all times. Problems of self-interest were his salt of life, +and their accurate solution brought him as near earthly happiness as +well could be. + +Curiously enough problems were always coming his way. He chanced upon +one that morning while busy in his storeroom, his attention divided +between pricing and stacking new dry goods and smashing flies on the +back of his superheated neck. And it served him with food for thought +for the rest of the day. + +It took him quite unawares, and for that very reason gave him ample +satisfaction. He was bending over a pile of rolls of fabric when a +voice suddenly hailed him from the doorway. + +"Are you the proprietor of the livery stables?" + +He turned about with a start. Such a question in that camp seemed +superfluous. It was absurd. He looked up, and his astonished eyes fell +upon the vision of an extremely well-dressed, refined-looking woman +whom he judged to be anything over fifty. But what held his attention +most was the lean, emaciated face and penetrating eyes. There was +something of the witch about it, as there was about the bowed figure. +But more than all she was a _stranger_. + +He admitted the impeachment in the midst of his astonishment with an +abruptness equal to her own. + +"Sure," he said, and waited. + +"Where will I find the sheriff of this place?" + +Beasley's eyes opened wider. + +"Guess ther' ain't no sheriff in this camp." + +The woman's next words came impatiently. + +"Why isn't there? Is there a lawyer?" + +Beasley grinned. His astonishment was giving place to curiosity and +speculation. He tapped the revolver at his hip. + +"We're mostly our own lawyers around here," he said easily. + +But the woman ignored his levity. + +"Where can I find one--a lawyer, or sheriff?" she demanded with an +added imperiousness. + +"Guess Leeson Butte's nearest." + +The stranger considered a moment. Beasley's eyes never left her. He +had noticed the refinement of her accent, and wondered the more. + +"How can I get there--best?" the woman next demanded. + +"Guess I ken let you have a team," Beasley said with alacrity. He +smelt good business. + +"How much?" + +"Fifty dollars. In an' out--with teamster." + +"Does he know the way?" + +"Sure." + +The woman eyed him steadily. + +"I don't want any mistakes. This--is a case of murder." + +Beasley's interest suddenly redoubled. The problem was growing in its +attractiveness. + +"Who's the feller?" he asked unguardedly. + +"That's not your business." The woman's eyes were cold. "Send the team +over to the farm down the river in two hours' time. The horses must be +able to travel fast. Here's the money." + +The saloon-keeper took the money promptly. But for once his +astonishment held him silent. Mercy Lascelles had reached the door to +go. Then she seemed to change her mind. She paused. + +"There's fifty dollars more when I get back--if you keep your tongue +quiet," she said warningly. "I don't want my business to get around. I +should say gossip travels fast amongst the hills. That's what I don't +want." + +"I see." + +It was all the astonished man could think of to say at the moment. But +he managed an abundant wink in a markedly friendly way. + +His wink missed fire, however, for the woman had departed; and by the +time he reached the door to look after her he saw her mounting the +wagon, which was drawn by the heavy team from Joan's farm, and driven +by her hired man. + +As the stranger drove off he leant against the doorway and emitted a +low whistle. In his own phraseology he was "beat," completely and +utterly "beat." + +But this state of things could not last long. His fertile brain could +not long remain under such a cloud of astonished confusion. He must +sort out the facts and piece them together. This he set to work on at +once. + +Abandoning his work in the storeroom he went at once to the barn, and +gave orders for the dispatch of the team. And herein, for once, he +traded honestly with his visitor. He ordered his very best team to be +sent. Perhaps it was in acknowledgment of the problem she had offered +him. + +Then he questioned his helpers. Here he was absolutely despotic. And +in less than half an hour he had ascertained several important facts. +He learned that a team had come in from Crowsfoot the previous +afternoon, bringing a passenger for the farm. The team had remained at +the farm, likewise the teamster. Only the fact that daylight that +morning had brought the man into camp for a supply of fodder and +provisions had supplied them with the news of his presence in the +district. This had happened before Beasley was up. + +With this Beasley went back to the saloon, where his dinner was served +him in the bar. His bartender was taking an afternoon off. It was a +thoughtful meal. The man ate noisily with the aid of both knife and +fork. He had acquired all the habits of the class he had so long mixed +with. Nor was it until his plate of meat and canned vegetables had +nearly disappeared that light began to creep into his clouded brain. + +He remembered that Joan had refurnished the farm. Why? Because some +one from the East, no doubt, was coming to stay with her. Who? Mother? +Aunt? Cousin? Female anyway. Female arrives. Queer-looking female. +Goes to farm. Stays one night. Comes looking for sheriff next +morning. A case of murder. No murder been done around here. Where? +East? Yes. Then there's some one here she's found--or she knows is +here--and he's wanted for murder. Who? + +At this point Beasley grinned. How many might there not be on Yellow +Creek who could be so charged? + +But his shrewd mind was very quick. This woman had not been into camp +until she visited him. Where had she been? In the hills--coming from +Crowsfoot. Still she might have been aware of the presence of her man +before she came--through Joan. + +For a moment he was disappointed. + +But it was only for a moment. He quickly brightened up. A new idea had +occurred to him which narrowed his field of possibilities. This woman +was educated, she belonged to a class he had once known himself. She +would know nothing of the riffraff of this camp. It must be somebody +of the same class, or near it, somebody of education----He drew a +sharp breath, and his wicked eyes lit. + +The wildest, the most impossible thought had occurred to him. He +pondered long upon the passage of the trail from Crowsfoot to the +farm. He remembered how she did not desire the "gossip" to +travel--especially to the hills. + +Suddenly he hailed his Chinese cook and flung his knife and fork down +upon his plate. In his elation he forgot the heat, the sticky flies. +He forgot his usual custom of abstention during the day. He poured +himself out a long drink of really good whisky, which he gulped down, +smacking his lips with appreciation before flinging his customary +curse at the head of his Mongolian servitor. + +He had never had such a morning in his life. + +Two of the boys came in for a drink. Such was his mood that he upset +their whole focus of things by insisting that they have it at his +expense. And when a third came along with a small parcel of gold dust +he bought it at its full value. + +These were significant signs. Beasley Melford was in a generous mood. +And such a mood in such a man required a lot of inspiration. + +But it was not likely to continue for long. And surely enough it +quickly reached its limit, and resolved itself into his every-day +attitude, plus a desire to make up, at the first opportunity, the +losses incurred by his moments of weak generosity. + +The heat of the day soon afforded him his desire, for the limp and +sweating miners straggled back into camp long before their usual +working day was ended. And what is more, they came to seek solace and +refreshment under his willing roof. + +By the middle of the afternoon the bar was fairly well filled. The +place was little better than a furnace of humid heat. But under the +influence of heartening spirits the temperature passed almost +unnoticed, or at least uncared. Here at least the weary creatures were +called upon for no greater effort than to deal cards, or raise a glass +to their lips and hold it there until drained. They could stand any +heat in the pursuit of such pastimes. + +Beasley watched his customers closely. Three tables of poker were +going, and from each he drew a percentage for the "chips" sold at the +bar. Each table was well supplied with drinks. A group of five men +occupied one end of the counter, and two smaller groups were farther +along. They were all drinking with sufficient regularity to suit his +purposes. Amongst the crowd gathered he noticed many of the men of the +original camp. There was Curly Saunders and Slaney at one poker table +with Diamond Jack. Abe Allinson was in close talk with two financial +"sharps" from Leeson, at the bar. The Kid was with a number of new +hands who had only just come in to try their luck. He was endeavoring +to sell a small share of his claim at a large price. Two others were +with the larger group at the bar, discussing "outputs" and new methods +of washing gold. It was a mixed collection of humanity, but there were +sufficient of the original members of the camp to suit him. + +In a lull in the talk, when for a moment only the click of poker +"chips" and the shuffle of cards broke the silence, Beasley propped +himself against his counter and, for once, paused from his everlasting +habit of glass wiping. + +"Guess none o' you heard the news?" he inquired, with a grin of +anticipation. + +His first effort failed to produce the effect he desired, so a +repetition followed quickly. For a moment play was suspended at one of +the tables, and the men looked up. + +"Noos?" inquired Diamond Jack. + +The Kid and his youthful companions looked round at the foxy face of +their host. + +"Oh! I don't guess it's nuthin'," said Beasley. "Only--it's so dogone +queer." + +His manner was well calculated. His final remark drew the entire +barroom. All play and all talk was abruptly held up. + +"Wot's queer?" demanded Diamond Jack, while all eyes searched the +saloon-keeper's sharp face. + +Beasley bit the end off a green cigar. + +"That's just it," he said. "Ther's suthin' I can't jest make out. +Say----" he paused while he lit his cigar with a sulphur match. "Any +you fellers heard of a murder around here lately? Can't say I have." + +He puffed leisurely at his cigar. The scattered groups at the bar drew +closer. There was no question but he now had the attention he desired. +The blank negative on the faces about him gave him his answer. + +"Sure," he observed thoughtfully. "That's wher' I'm beat. But--ther's +sure murder been done, an' ther's goin' to be a big doin' around--in +consequence. Ther's word gone in to the sheriff at Leeson, an' the law +fellers o' that city is raisin' a mighty business to get warrants +signed. Say, I heerd they're sendin' a dozen dep'ties to hunt these +hills. Seems to me the guy whoever it is is a pretty hot tough, an' +he's livin' in the hills. I heard more than that. I heard the murder +was a low-down racket that if folks knew about it they'd be right out +fer lynchin' this guy. That's why it's bin kep' quiet. I bin goin' +over the folks in my mind to locate the--murderer. But it's got me +beat." + +"Ther' ain't bin no murder since the camp got boomin'," said Abe +Allinson thoughtfully, "'cept you reckon that racket of Ike an' +Pete's." + +Beasley shook his head. + +"'Tain't that. That was jest clear shootin'. Though it's queer you +mention that. Say, this racket's got somethin' to do with that farm. +It's mighty queer about that farm. That gal's brought a heap of +mischief. She sure is an all-fired Jonah." + +"But what's she to do wi' this new racket?" inquired Slaney. + +Beasley shook his head. + +"You got me beat again. The sheriff's comin' right out to that farm, +chasin' some feller for murder. Ther's the fact--plain fact. He's +comin' to that farm--which shows that gal is mussed-up with the racket +someways. Now I tho't a heap on this thing. An' I'm guessin' this +murder must have been done back East. Y' see that gal comes from back +East. 'Wal, now,' says I, 'how do we shape then?' Why, that gal--that +Jonah gal--comes right here an' locates some feller who's done murder +back East. Who is it? I gone over every feller in this yer camp, an' +'most all are pretty clear accounted for. Then from what I hear the +sheriff's posse is to work the hills. Who is ther' in the hills?" + +Beasley paused for effect. His purpose was rapidly becoming evident. +He glanced over the faces about him, and knew that the same thought +was in each mind. + +He laughed as though an absurd thought had passed through his mind. + +"Course," he exclaimed, "it's durned ridic'lous. Ther's two fellers we +know livin' in the hills. Jest two. Ther's Buck an'--the Padre. Buck's +bin around this creek ever since he was raised. I ain't no use for +Buck. He's kind o' white livered, but he's a straight citizen. Then +the Padre," he laughed again, "he's too good. Say, he's next best to a +passon. So it can't be him." + +He waited for concurrence, and it came at once. + +"I'll swar' it ain't the Padre," cried Curly warmly. + +"It sure ain't," agreed Slaney, shaking his serious head. + +"The Padre?" cried Abe, with a scornful laugh. "Why, I'd sooner guess +it's me." + +Beasley nodded. + +"You're dead right ther', boys," he said, with hearty good-will. "It +sure ain't the Padre. He's got religion, an' though I'm 'most allus +curious 'bout folks with religion--it ain't right to say ther's any +queer reason fer 'em gettin' it. Then the Padre's bin here nigh twenty +years. Jest fancy! A feller of his eddication chasin' around these +hills fer twenty years! It's easy fer a feller raised to 'em, like +Buck. But when you've been a feller in a swell position East, to come +an' hunt your hole in these hills fer twenty years, why, it's--it's +astonishin'. Still, that don't make no diff'rence. It can't be the +Padre. He's got his reasons fer stayin' around here. Wal, nigh all of +us has got reasons fer bein' here. An' it ain't fer us to ask why. No, +though I don't usually trust folks who get religion sudden, I ain't +goin' agin the Padre. He's a white man, sure." + +"The whitest around here," cried Curly. He eyed Beasley steadily. +"Say, you," he went on suspiciously, "who give you all this?" + +It was the question Beasley had been waiting for. But he would rather +have had it from some one else. He twisted his cigar across his lips +and spat a piece of tobacco leaf out of his mouth. + +"Wal," he began deliberately, "I don't guess it's good med'cine +talkin' names. But I don't mind sayin' right here this thing's made me +feel mean. The story's come straight from that--that--Jonah gal's +farm. Yep, it makes me feel mean. Ther's nothin' but trouble about +that place now--'bout her. I ain't got over Ike and Pete. Wal, I don't +guess we'll get to the rights of that now. They wer' two bright boys. +Here are us fellers runnin' this camp fer all we know, all good +citizens, mind, an' ther' ain't nothin' amiss. We ke'p the place good +an' clean of rackets. We're goin' to boom into a big concern, an' +we're goin' to make our piles--clean. An' we got to put up with the +wust sort of mischief--from this farm. It ain't right. It ain't a +square shake by a sight. I sez when ther's Jonahs about they need to +be put right out. An' mark you, that gal, an' that farm are Jonahs. +Now we got this sheriff feller comin' around with his dep'ties chasin' +glory after a crook. He'll get his nose into everybody. An' sheriffs' +noses is quick at gettin' a nasty smell. I ain't sayin' a thing about +any citizen in this place--but I don't guess any of us has store halos +about us, an' halos is the only things'll keep any feller safe when +sheriffs get around." + +A murmur of approval greeted his argument. Few of the men in the camp +desired the presence of a sheriff in their midst. There were few +enough among them who would care to have the ashes of their past +disturbed by any law officer. Beasley had struck the right note for +his purpose. + +"How'd you put this Jonah out, Beasley?" cried Diamond Jack. + +Beasley thought for a moment. + +"How'd I put her out?" he said at last. "That's askin' some. How'd I +put her out? Say," his face flushed, and his eyes sparkled, "ef I had +my way I'd burn every stick o' that dogone farm. Then she'd light out. +That's what I'd do. I ain't got no use for Jonahs. An' I say right +here I'd give five hundred dollars to see her back turned on this +place. I tell you, boys, an' I'm speakin' for your good, an' mine, if +she stops around here we're goin' to get it--we'll get it good. The +Lord knows how it's goin' to come. But it's comin', I feel it in my +bones. It's comin' as sure as my name's Beasley." + +He threw such a sincerity and earnestness into his manner that he made +a marked impression. Even Curly Saunders, who, with one or two of the +older hands, had some sort of regard for the girl they believed had +founded their fortunes, was not quite without doubts. There was no +question but mischief did seem to hang about the farm. Ike and Pete +had been popular enough. The newer people had no sentiment on the +matter, but they listened with interest to the saloon-keeper, feeling +that his was the voice of the leading citizen. Besides, the matter of +the sheriff's coming was not pleasant. Many had spent a great part of +their lives avoiding such contact. + +"Seems to me you're forgettin' that gal brought us our luck," the Kid +suggested impulsively. "You were ther' when we handed her the----" + +"Death's-head," laughed Beasley. Then his face hardened. "Tcha!" he +cried with some heat. "You make me sick. I told you then, as I tell +you now, it was that storm brought us our luck, an' it brought us our +Jonah with it. If you'd got a cent's worth of grit that gal 'ud go. We +don't wish her harm. I ain't one to wish a gal harm. But go she must +if we want to be quit of trouble. Still, I'm on'y just sayin' what I +feel. It don't matter a heap. Ther's the sheriff comin' along to grab +some one for murder. Maybe he'll chase up a few other rackets to fill +in his time. It's things of that nature do matter. He's got to git +some one. Maybe it's some one in the hills. Maybe it ain't. +Maybe--wal, I sure do hope it ain't--the Padre." + +He laughed as he turned to attend the wants of some fresh customers +who entered the bar at that moment. The malice underlying his jest +must have been plain to any one observing the man. + +With this fresh diversion play at the card tables was resumed while +the men at the bar fell back into their original groups. But the +general interest was absorbed in Beasley's news, and the channels of +talk were diverted. Beasley had sown his seed on fruitful soil. He +knew it. The coming of a sheriff, or any form of established law, into +a new mining camp was not lightly to be welcomed by the earliest +pioneers. + +In the midst of this atmosphere a further interest arose. The last +person Beasley expected to see in his bar at that hour of the day was +Buck. He was not even sure he wanted to see him after what had passed. +Yet Buck suddenly pushed his way through the swing-doors. + +The saloon-keeper was in the act of replacing the whisky bottle under +the counter, having just served his fresh customers, when his foxy +eyes encountered the dark face of the man he most hated on Yellow +Creek. + +In a moment he was all smiles. + +"Howdy, Buck," he cried, as though the sight of him was the one thing +in the world he desired. Then he covertly winked at those nearest him. + +His wink conveyed all he intended, and the men turned and eyed the +newcomer curiously. + +Buck responded to the greeting indifferently, and proceeded to +business. He had not come for the pleasure of the visit. He passed a +slip of paper across the counter. + +"Can you do them for me?" he inquired. "Just cast an eye over that +list. If you'll get 'em put up I'll ride in in the mornin' an' fetch +'em out. I'll need 'em early." + +His manner was short and cold. It was his way with Beasley, but now +there was more in his mind to make for brevity. + +Beasley studied the paper closely. And as he read down the list a +smile spread over his mean face. It was a long list of supplies which +included rifle and revolver ammunition. He whistled softly. + +"Mackinaw!" Then he looked up into the dark eyes of the waiting man, +and his own expressed an unwonted good-humor. "Say, wot's doin' at the +fort? Gettin' ready for a siege? Or--or are you an' the Padre chasin' +the long trail?" + +Buck's thin cheeks flushed as he pointed at the paper. + +"You can do that for me?" he inquired still more coldly. + +Beasley shot a swift glance round at the interested faces of the men +standing by. + +"Oh, guess I can do it," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Sure I can do +it. Say, you fellers ain't lightin' out?" + +He winked again. This time it was deliberately at Buck. + +"They're winter stores," said Buck shortly. + +Then, as Beasley laughed right out, and he became aware of a general +smile at his expense, he grew hot. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded sharply. And his demand was not +intended for the saloon-keeper alone. + +"Ke'p your shirt on, Buck," exclaimed Beasley, with studied +good-nature. "We couldn't jest help but laff." Then his eyes became +sentimentally serious. "Y' see, we bin worried some. We wus guessin' +when you came along. Y' see, ther's a sheriff an' a big posse o' +dep'ties comin' right along to this yer camp. Y' see, ther's some guy +chasin' around the hills, an' he's wanted fer--murder." + +The man was watching for an effect in Buck's face. But he might as +well have looked for expression in that of a sphinx. + +"Wal?" + +It was the only response Buck afforded him. + +"Wal," Beasley shifted his gaze. He laughed feebly, and the onlookers +transferred their attention to him. "Y' see, it was sort o' laffable +you comin' along buyin' winter stores in August, an' us jest guessin' +what guy the sheriff would be chasin'--in the hills. He won't be +smellin' around the fort now?" He grinned amiably into the dark face. +But deep in his wicked eyes was an assurance which Buck promptly read. + +Nor did it take him a second to come to a decision. He returned the +man's look with a coolness that belied his real feelings. He knew +beyond question that Mercy Lascelles had already commenced her +campaign against the Padre. He had learned of her journey into the +camp from Joan. The result of that journey had not reached him yet. At +least it was reaching him now. + +"You best hand it me straight, Beasley," he said. "Guess nothin' +straight is a heap in your line. But jest for once you've got no +corners to crawl around. Hand it out--an' quick." + +Buck's manner was dangerously sharp set. There was a smouldering fire +growing in his passionate eyes. Beasley hesitated. But his hesitation +was only for the reason of his own growing heat. He made one last +effort to handle the matter in the way he had originally desired, +which was with a process of good-humored goading with which he hoped +to keep the company present on his side. + +"Ther's no offense, Buck," he said. "At least ther' sure needn't to +be. You never could play easy. I wus jest handin' you a laff--same as +we had." + +"I'm waitin'," said Buck with growing intensity, utterly ignoring the +explanation. + +But Beasley's hatred of the man could not be long denied. Besides, his +last attempt had changed the attitude of the onlookers. There was a +lurking derision, even contempt in their regard for him. It was the +result of what had occurred before Buck's coming. They expected him to +talk as plainly as he had done then. So he gave rein to the venom +which he could never long restrain. + +"Guess I hadn't best ke'p you waitin', sure," he said ironically. Then +his eyes suddenly lit. "Winter stores, eh?" he cried derisively. +"Winter stores--an' why'll the Padre need 'em, the good kind Padre, +when the sheriff's comin' along to round him up fer--murder?" + +There was a moment of tense silence as the man flung his challenge +across the bar. Every eye in the room was upon the two men facing each +other. In the mind of every one present was only one expectation. The +lightning-like play of life and death. + +But the game they all understood so well was not forthcoming. For once +Buck's heat was controlled by an iron will. To have shot Beasley down +where he stood would have been the greatest delight of his life, but +he restrained the impulse. There were others to think of. He forced +himself to calmness. + +Beasley had fired his shot in the firm conviction it would strike home +unfailingly. Yet he knew that it was not without a certain random in +it. Still, after what had been said, it was imperative to show no +weakening. He was certain the quarry was the Padre, and his +conviction received further assurance as he watched Buck's face. + +For an instant Buck would willingly have hurled the lie in his teeth. +But to do so would have been to lie himself, and, later, for that lie +to be proved. There was only one course open to him to counter the +mischief of this man. He looked squarely into the saloon-keeper's +face. + +"The truth don't come easy to you, Beasley," he said calmly, "unless +it's got a nasty flavor. Guess that's how it's come your way to tell +it now." + +"Winter stores," laughed the man behind the bar. And he rubbed his +hands gleefully, and winked his delight in his own astuteness at the +men looking on. + +Then his face sobered, and it seemed as though all his animosity had +been absorbed in a profound regret. His whole attitude became the +perfection of a righteous indignation and sympathy, which almost +deceived Buck himself. + +"See here, Buck," he exclaimed, leaning across his bar. "You an' me +don't always see things the same way. Guess I don't allus hit it with +the Padre. No, I guess ther' ain't a heap of good feeling among the +three of us. But before you leave here I want to say jest one thing, +an' it's this. Sheriff or no sheriff, deputies or no deputies, if +they're lookin' fer the Padre for murder I say it's a jumped-up fake. +That man couldn't do a murder, not to save his soul. An' it'll give me +a whole heap o' pleasure fixin' up your winter stores. An' good luck +to you both--when you hit the long trail." + +A murmur of approval went round the room amongst those of the company +who remembered the days before the gold strike. And Beasley, in his +long career of mischief, almost achieved popularity. + +Buck could scarcely believe his ears. And his incredulity was not +lessened as he looked into the furtive eyes of the man who had +expressed himself so cordially. + +But he had been given the opportunity he knew he would need sooner or +later. He knew that there were men in the camp who would stand by the +Padre in emergency, and they must know the truth. Since Aunt Mercy's +campaign had opened, and the news of it was spread abroad, these men +must be told the facts, and know his own attitude. He might well need +their assistance in the future, as they, in the past, had needed the +Padre's. + +"I take it you mean that, Beasley," he said without warmth. Then, +ignoring the man, he turned to those gathered about him. "I don't know +how Beasley's got this thing, fellers," he said, in his simple +fashion. "It don't matter, anyway. I hadn't a notion the sheriff was +comin' along yet, either. That don't matter. Anyways I guessed he +would be comin' sooner or later, an' that's the reason I'm layin' in +stores of gun stuff an' things. Yes, he's comin' for the Padre on a +charge of murder, a low-down charge of murder that he never committed. +You know the ways of the law, an' how things sure go in such rackets. +The charge is nigh twenty years old. Wal, maybe it'll be nigh +impossible for him to prove he didn't do it. It looks that way. +Anyways, I tell you right here, ther' ain't no sheriff in this country +goin' to git him while I'm alive. He's raised me from a starvin' kid, +an' he's bin the biggest thing on earth to me, an' I'm goin' to see +him through. You fellers, some o' you, know the Padre. You know what +he's done right here to help folks when they were starvin'. He even +sold his farm to help. Sold it right out, an' give up twenty years' +work to hand grub to empty bellies. Wal, they want him fer murder. +Him, the best and straightest man I ever knew. I ain't got nothin' +more to say 'cept Beasley's right--the sheriff's comin'. An' when he +comes he'll find the hills hotter than hell fer him, an' I'll have a +hand in makin' 'em that way." He turned abruptly to Beasley, and +pointed at the paper lying on the counter. "You'll do them things for +me, an' I'll get 'em to-morrow." + +He turned away, flinging his farewell back over his shoulder as he +reached the door. + +"So long, fellers," he cried, and pushed his way out. + +The moment he had gone every tongue was let loose. The gamblers cashed +their "chips" at the bar. There was no more play that afternoon. +Excitement ran high, and discussion was at fever heat. To a man those +who knew the Padre, and those who didn't, commended Buck's attitude. +And amongst the older hands of the camp was an ardent desire to take a +hand in resisting the law. Beasley was in agreement with nearly +everybody. He expressed a wonderful fury at the absurdity and +injustice, as he described it, of the charge. And, finally, he +possessed himself of the floor again for the purposes of his own +subtle scheming. + +"What did I tell you, fellers?" he cried, when he had obtained a +general hearing. "What did I tell you?" he reiterated in a fine fury. +"I don't like him, but Buck's a man. A straight, bully feller. He's +goin' to do the right thing. He'll stand by that Padre feller while +he's got a breath in his body, an' he'll shoot the sheriff up as sure +as sure. An' why? Because that feller, the Padre, sold his farm to +help us old hands. Because he sold his farm to that 'Jonah' gal, who's +brought all this trouble about. If she hadn't come around Pete an' Ike +would have bin living now. If she hadn't come around the Padre +wouldn't be wanted for a murder he never committed. If she hadn't come +around Buck wouldn't have set himself up agin the law, an' found +himself chasin' the country over--an outlaw. D'yer see it? You're +blind if you don't." He brought his clenched fist down on the counter +in a whirlwind of indignation. "She's got to go," he cried. "I tell +you, she's got to go. Chase her out. Burn her out. Get rid of her from +here. An' I got five hundred dollars says--do it." + +Beasley knew his men. And in every eye he saw that they were with him +now. Nor could anything have pleased him more than when Curly shouted +his sudden sympathy. + +"Beasley's right, boys," he cried. "She's brought the rotten luck. She +must go. Who's to say whose turn it'll be next?" + +"Bully for you," cried Beasley. "Curly's hit it. Who's the next victim +of the rotten luck of this Golden Woman?" + +His final appeal carried the day. The men shouted a general approval, +and Beasley reveled inwardly in his triumph. He had played his hand +with all the skill at his command--and won. And now he was satisfied. +He knew he had started the ball rolling. It would grow. In a few hours +the majority of the camp would be with him. Then, when the time came, +he would play them for his own ends, and so pay off all his old +scores. + +The Padre would be taken. He would see to that. The sheriff should +know every detail of Buck's intentions. Buck would ultimately be +taken--after being outlawed. And Joan--the proud beauty whom Buck was +in love with--well, if she got out with her life it would be about all +she would escape with. + +Beasley felt very happy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE MOVING FINGER + + +The Padre stood at the top of the steps and looked out over the wide +stretching valley below him. His long day was drawing to a close, but +he felt no weariness of body. There was a weariness of mind, a +weariness of outlook. There was something gray and cold and hopeless +upon his horizon, something which left him regretful of all that which +lay within his view now. + +There was a half smile in his eyes, as, for a moment, they rested on +the narrow indistinct trail which looked so far below him. He was +thinking of that apparition he had met only a few days back, the +apparition which had suddenly leapt out of his past. It was all very +strange, very wonderful, the working of those mysterious things which +make it certain that no page in a human creature's life can be turned +once and for all. + +Yes, it was all very wonderful. The hand of Fate had begun to move +against him when he had greeted that starving fragment of humanity at +the trail-side, more than twenty years ago. It had moved steadily +since then in every detail of his life. It had been progressing in the +work he had done in the building of his farm. Its moving finger had +pointed every day of Buck's young life. In the necessities of those +poor gold-seekers it had shown its unerring direction, even in the +spirit which had prompted him to help them, which involved the +selling of his farm. + +Then he saw its bitter irony. It had done its work by bringing Joan +into contact with Buck, and, with cruel derision, had shown him how +unnecessary his sacrifice had been. Then had come all those other +things, moving so swiftly that it was almost impossible to count each +step in the iron progress of the moving finger. It had come with an +overwhelming rush which swept him upon its tide like a feather upon +the bosom of the torrent. And now, caught in the whirling rapids below +the mighty falls, he could only await the completion of the sentence +so long since pronounced. + +The smile broadened, spreading gently across his face. He realized he +was admitting all he had denied to Joan. But the thought brought him +no weakening. The wisdom of years had taught him much that must not be +communicated to a younger generation. Life would teach them in their +turn; they must not learn the truths which lay before them before +their time. It was better to lie than to destroy the hope of youth. + +His conscience was clear, his resolve perfect in its steadiness. The +happiness of two people was at stake. For Buck he would give up all. +There was no sacrifice too great. For Joan--she was the fair daughter +of his oldest friend. His duty was clear by her. There was one course, +and one course only that he could see for himself. To remove the last +shadow from these young lives he must face the ordeal which lay before +him. What its outcome might be he could not quite see, but he was not +without hope. There were certain details surrounding the death of his +friend which did not fit in with his guilt. He had no weapon upon him +in that house. Nor was there the least reason for the crime. He knew +he would be confronted by the evidence of a woman who hated him, a +woman capable of manufacturing evidence to suit her own ends. But, +whatever else she might do, she could not produce a weapon belonging +to him, nor could she invent a reason for the crime that could not be +disproved. At least this was the hope he clung to. + +However, he knew that he could not leave the shadow of his possible +guilt to cloud the lives of these two, just setting out on their long +journey together. The possibilities of it for harm were far too great. +The ocean of hot, youthful love was far too possible of disaster for +an unnecessary threat to overshadow it. + +No, he had refused the request of these two from the first moment when +he had realized his duty by them, and now, after careful thought, his +resolve remained unshaken. + +Still, he was not without regret as he gazed out over that vast world +he had learned to love so well. The thought of possibly never seeing +it again hurt him. The wide valleys, the fair, green pastures, the +frowning, mysterious woods with their utter silence, the butting crags +with their barren crests, or snow-clad shoulders. They held him in a +thrall of almost passionate devotion. They would indeed be hard to +part with. + +He looked away down the gaping jaws of the valley at the black crest +of Devil's Hill. It was a point that never failed to attract him, and +now more so than ever. Was it not round this hill that all his past +efforts had been concentrated? + +He studied it. Its weirdness held him. A heavy mist enveloped its +crown, that steaming mist which ever hung above the suspended lake. +It was denser now than usual. It had been growing denser for the last +two days, and, in a vague way, he supposed that those internal fires +which heated the water were glowing fiercer than usual. He glanced up +at the sky, and almost for the first time realized the arduous efforts +of the westering sun to penetrate the densely humid atmosphere. It was +stiflingly hot, when usually the air possessed a distinct chill. + +But these things possessed only a passing interest. The vagaries of +the mountain atmosphere rarely concerned him. His vigorous body was +quite impervious to its changes. He picked up his "catch" of pelts and +shouldered them. They were few enough, and as he thought of the +unusual scarcity of foxes the last few days he could not help feeling +that the circumstance was only in keeping with the rest of the passing +events of his life. + +He made his way along the foot-path which wound its way through the +pine bluff, in the midst of which the old fur fort lay hidden inside +its mouldering stockade. He flung the pelts into the storeroom, and +passed on to the house, wondering if Buck had returned from the camp, +whither he knew he had been that day. + +He found him busy amidst a pile of stores spread out upon the floor +and table, and a mild surprise greeted the youngster as he looked +round from his occupation. + +"You never said--you were getting stores, Buck?" + +The Padre eyed the pile curiously. Finally his eyes paused at the +obvious ammunition cases. + +Buck followed the direction of his gaze. + +"No," he said; and turned again to his work of bestowing the goods in +the places he had selected for them. + +The Padre crossed the room and sat down. Then he leisurely began to +exchange his moccasins for a pair of comfortable house-shoes. + +"Had we run short?" he asked presently. + +"No." + +Buck's manner was touched with something like brusqueness. + +"Then--why?" + +Buck straightened up, bearing in his arms an ammunition box. + +"Because we may need 'em," he said, and bestowed the box under the +settle with a kick. + +"I don't get you--that's revolver ammunition you just put away." + +"Yes." + +Buck continued his work until the room was cleared. The other watched +him interestedly. Then as the younger man began to prepare their +supper the Padre again reverted to it. + +"Maybe you'll tell me about 'em--now?" he said, with his easy smile. + +Buck had just set the kettle on the stove. He stood up, and a frown of +perplexity darkened his brow. + +"Maybe I won't be able to get to camp again," he said. "Maybe we'll +need 'em for another reason." + +"What other?" + +"The sheriff's comin'. That woman's sent for him. I've figgered out he +can't get along till 'bout to-morrow night, or the next mornin'. +Anyway it don't do to reckon close on how quick a sheriff can git +doin'." + +The Padre's smile had died out of his eyes. He sighed. + +"The sheriff's coming, eh?" Then he went on after a pause. "But these +stores--I don't see----" + +A dark flame suddenly lit Buck's eyes, but though he broke in quickly +it was without the heat that was evidently stirring within him. + +"They're for Joan, an' me--an' you. When the time comes guess we're +going where no sheriff can follow us, if you don't make trouble. I +don't guess you need tellin' of the valley below us. You know it, an' +you know the steps. You know the canyon away on toward Devil's Hill. +That's the way we're goin'--when the time comes. An' I'd say there +ain't no sheriff or dep'ties'll care to follow us through that canyon. +After that we cut away north. Ther's nobody can follow our trail that +way." + +Something almost of defiance grew into his voice as he proceeded. He +was expecting denial, and was ready to resist it with all his force. + +The Padre shook his head. + +"Buck, Buck, this is madness--rank madness," he cried. "To resist the +law in the way your hot head dictates is to outlaw yourselves beyond +all redemption. You don't understand what you are doing. You don't +know to what you are condemning this little Joan. You don't know how +surely your methods will condemn _me_." + +But Buck was on fire with rebellion against the injustice of a +law which claimed the Padre as its victim. He saw the hideous +possibilities following upon his friend's arrest, and was determined +to give his life in the service of his defense. + +"It's not madness," he declared vehemently. "It's justice, real +justice that we should defend our freedom. If you wer' guilty, Padre, +it would be dead right to save yourself. It's sure the right of +everything to save its life. If you're innocent you sure got still +more right. Padre, I tell you they mean to fix you. That woman's got +a cinch she ain't lettin' go. She's lived for this time, Joan's told +me. She'll raise plumb hell to send you to your death. Padre, just +listen to us. It's me an' Joan talkin' now. What I say she says. We +can see these things different to you; we're young. You say it's your +duty to give up to this woman. We say it's our duty you _shan't_. If +you give up to her you're giving up to devil's mischief, an' that's +dead wrong. An' nothin' you can say can show me you got a right to +help devil's work. We'll light out of here before they come. Us three. +If you stop here, we stop too, an' that's why I got the ammunition. +More than that. Ther's others, too, won't see you taken. Ther's +fellers with us in the camp--fellers who owe you a heap--like I do." + +The Padre watched the steam rising from the kettle with moody eyes. +The youngster was tempting him sorely. He knew Buck's determination, +his blind loyalty. He felt that herein lay his own real danger. Yes, +to bolt again, as he had done that time before, would be an easy way +out. But its selfishness was too obvious. He could not do it. To do so +would be to drag them in his train of disaster, to blight their lives +and leave them under the grinding shadow of the law. + +No, it could not be. + +"Looked at from the way you look at it, there is right enough in what +you say, boy," he said kindly. "But you can't look at civilized life +as these mountains teach you to look at things. When the sheriff comes +I yield to arrest, and I trust in God to help us all. My mind is made +up." + +For some moments Buck stared down at the sturdy friend who had taken +the place of his dead father. His eyes softened, and their fire died +out. But there was no rescinding of his desperate decision. He was +thinking of what it would mean, the thought of this white-haired man +in the hands of the executioner. He was thinking of the kindly heart +beating within that stalwart bosom. He was thinking of the wonderful, +thoughtful kindness for others which was always the motive of his +life. And a deep-throated curse rose to his lips. But it found no +utterance. It could not in that presence. + +"An' my mind's made up," he jerked out at last, with concentrated +force. Then he added with an abrupt softening, "Let's eat, Padre. I +was forgettin'. Mebbe you're hungry some." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE JOY OF BEASLEY + + +An unusual number of horses were tethered at the posts outside +Beasley's saloon, and, a still more unusual thing, their owners, for +the most part, were not in their usual places within the building. +Most of them were lounging on the veranda in various attitudes best +calculated to rest them from the effects of the overpowering heat of +the day. Beasley was lounging with them. For once he seemed to have +weakened in his restless energy, or found something of greater +interest than that of netting questionable gains. + +The latter seemed to be the more likely, for his restless eyes +displayed no lack of mental activity. At any rate, he displayed an +attitude that afternoon which startled even his bartender. Not once, +but several times that individual, of pessimistic mood, had been +called upon to dispense free rations of the worst possible liquor in +the place, until, driven from wonder to protest, he declared, with +emphatic conviction and an adequate flow of blasphemy, addressing +himself to the bottles under the counter, the smeary glasses he +breathed upon while wiping with a soiled and odoriferous cloth, that +the boss was "bug--plumb bug." Nevertheless, his own understanding of +"crookedness" warned him that the man had method, and he was anxious +to discover the direction in which it was moving. Therefore he +watched Beasley's doings with appreciative eyes, and his interest grew +as the afternoon waned. + +"He's on a crook lay," he told himself after a while. And the thought +brightened his outlook upon life, and helped to banish some of his +pessimism. + +The chief feature of interest for him lay in the fact that the men +foregathered were a collection of those who belonged to the +"something-for-nothing" class, as he graphically described them. And +he observed, too, that Beasley was carefully shepherding them. There +were a few of the older hands of the camp, but these seemed to have +less interest for his boss. At least he showed far less consideration +for them. And it quickly became evident that the whole afternoon's +object was the adequate ingratiation and stimulation of these dregs of +frontier life. + +This the bartender saw quite clearly. For the rest he was content to +wait. He had spent most of his life in thus waiting and watching the +nefarious schemes of unscrupulous men. + +The heat was overpowering. It was almost an effort to breathe, let +alone move about. The men lolled, propped against the baulks of timber +supporting the veranda roof, stretched out on benches, or crouching on +the raised edge of the wooden flooring. One and all were in a state of +wiltering in the stewing heat, from which only an intermittent flow of +fiery spirit could rouse them. + +Beasley was the one exception to this general condition of things. +Mentally he was particularly alert. And, what is more, his temper, +usually so irritable and fiery, was reduced to a perfect level of good +humor. + +For some moments talk had died out. Then in a sudden fit of +irritability Abe Allinson kicked a loose stone in the direction of the +tethered horses. + +"Say," he observed, "this 'minds one o' the time we struck color at +the hill." + +His eyes wandered toward the gathering shadows, slowly obscuring the +grim sides of Devil's Hill. His remark was addressed to no one in +particular. + +Beasley took him up. It was his purpose to keep these men stirring. + +"How?" he inquired. + +"Why, the heat. Say, git a peek at that sky. Look yonder. The sun. Get +them durned banks o' cloud swallerin' it right up atop o' them hills. +Makes you think, don't it? That's storm. It's comin' big--an' before +many hours." + +"For which we'll all be a heap thankful." Beasley laughed. "Another +day of this an' I'll be done that tender a gran'ma could eat me." + +His remark drew a flicker of a smile. + +"She'd need good ivories," observed the gambler, Diamond Jack, with +mild sarcasm. + +Beasley took the remark as a compliment to his business capacity, and +grinned amiably. + +"Jack's right. You'd sure give her an elegant pain, else," added +Curly, in a tired voice. He was steadily staring down the trail in a +manner that suggested indifference to any coming storm. Somebody +laughed half-heartedly. But Curly had no desire to enliven things, and +went on quite seriously. + +"Say, when's this bum sheriff gettin' around?" he demanded. + +Beasley took him up at once. + +"Some time to-night," he said, in a well-calculated tone of +resentment. "That's why I got you boys around now," he added +significantly. + +"You mean----?" Diamond Jack nodded in the direction of the farm. + +Beasley nodded. + +"That old crow bait got back early this mornin'," he went on. "I was +waitin' on her. She guessed she hadn't a thing to say, an' I surely +was up agin a proposition. So I jest made out I was feelin' good +seein' her git back, an' told her I wa'an't lookin' for information +she didn't guess she was givin', and ther' wasn't no need fer her to +say a thing. She guessed that was so. After that I passed things by, +sayin' how some o' the boys hated sheriffs wuss'n rattlesnakes--an' +she laffed. Yes, sir, she laffed, an' it must have hurt her some. +Anyways she opened out at that, an' said, if any boys hated the sight +of sheriffs they'd better hunt their holes before sun-up. Guess she +didn't just use them words, but she give 'em that time limit. Say, if +I was the Padre I'd sooner have the devil on my trail than that +old--bunch o' marrow bones." + +Slaney looked up from the bench on which he was spread out. + +"Guess he'll have wuss'n her when Bob Richards gets around," he said +gloomily. + +"D'you reckon they'll git him--with Buck around?" inquired Curly +anxiously. + +"Buck! Tcha!" Beasley's dislike for the moment got the better of his +discretion. But he quickly realized his mistake, and proceeded to +twist his meaning. "It makes me mad. It makes me plumb crazed when I +think o' that bully feller, the Padre, bein' give dead away by the +folks at the farm. Buck? Psha'! Who's Buck agin a feller like Bob +Richards? Bob's the greatest sheriff ever stepped in Montana. He'll +twist Buck so he won't know rye whisky from sow-belly. Buck's grit, +elegant grit, but Bob--wal, I'd say he's the wisest guy west of +Chicago, when it comes to stringin' up a crook." + +"I'm with you, boss," cried Diamond Jack, in a quick rage. "This farm +needs lookin' to to-night sure. We got to git in 'fore sheriffs git +around. They're playin' a low-down racket. Jonahs don't cut no ice +with me, but they're chasin' up glory agin the camp. That's how I read +it. Guess none of us is saints, anyways I don't seem to hear no wings +flappin'; but givin' folks up to the law is--low." + +Abe Allinson grunted, and a general atmosphere of silent approval +prevailed. Beasley, whose eyes were watching every expression, pushed +the ball further along. + +"Low?" he cried. "You, Jack, don't know the guy we're so dead keen to +help out. If you did you'd git right up on to your hind legs an' cuss +terrible--an' you've cussed some in your time. But for him this camp +wouldn't be the bonanza it is. You wouldn't be nettin' a pile of +dollars every night in my bar. I wouldn't be runnin' a big proposition +in dollar makin'. These boys wouldn't be chasin' gold on full bellies. +Gee, it makes me mad--an' thirsty. Let's get around inside an' see +what that glass rustler of mine can do." + +The response was immediate and complete. No man had ever been known to +refuse Beasley's hospitality. Everybody drank. And they drank again at +Diamond Jack's expense. Then later they drank at their own. And all +the while Beasley, with consummate skill, shepherded them to his own +ends. + +It was truly wonderful to see the manner in which he handled them. He +adopted the simplest tactics, once he had set the ball rolling, +contenting himself with dropping in a word here and there every time +the subject of the sheriff drifted toward his ears. He knew these men. +He possessed that keenness of insight into his customers which no +successful saloon-keeper fails to acquire. He understood their +weaknesses in a manner which left it a simple enough task to play upon +them. In this case the basis of his procedure was drink--strong, harsh +whisky, of a violent type. + +The banking clouds rose ponderously upon the hilltops, blacking out +the twilight with an abruptness which must have held deep significance +for men less occupied. But the dominant overcast of their minds was +the coming of the sheriff. For many of them it was far more ominous +than any storm of nature. + +The bar filled to overflowing. No one cared to gamble. There would +have been no room for them, anyway. Even Diamond Jack showed no +inclination to pursue his trade. Perhaps this was the most significant +feature of all. + +His was a weighty word thrown in the balance of public opinion. +Perhaps this was the result of his well-understood shrewdness. At any +rate he never failed to find a ready audience for his opinions, and +to-night his opinions were strongly and forcefully declared. Beasley +listened to him with interest, and smiled as he observed him moving +about amongst the crowd drinking with one, treating another, his +tongue never idle in his denunciation of sheriffs, and all those who +called in their aid. It almost seemed as if the man was acting under +orders, orders, perhaps inspired by a subtler mind, to disguise the +real source whence they sprang. + +The gambler was truly a firebrand, and so well did he handle his +people, so well did he stir them by his disgust and righteous horror +at the employment of a sheriff in their midst, that by nine o'clock +the camp was loud in its clamor for retribution to be visited upon +those who had brought such a terror into their midst. + +Beasley's amiability grew. His bartender watched it in amazement. But +it oppressed him. His pessimism resented it. He hated joy, and the +evidences of joy in others. There was real pleasure for him in Diamond +Jack's hectoring denunciations. It was something which appealed to +him. Besides, he could see the gambler was harassed, perhaps afraid of +the sheriff himself. He even envied him his fear. But Beasley's +satisfaction was depressing, and, as a protest, he neglected to +overcharge the more drunken of their customers. Beasley must not have +all the satisfaction. + +But, as far as Beasley was concerned, the bartender was little better +than a piece of furniture that night. His employer had almost +forgotten his existence. Truth to tell, Beasley had lost his head in +his disease of venom. One thought, and one thought only urged him. +To-night, before the advent of the sheriff to seize upon the person of +the hated Padre, he hoped, by one stroke, to crush the heart of Buck, +and bow the proud head of the girl who had so plainly showed her +dislike and contempt for him, in the dust of shame and despair. + +It was a moment worth waiting for. It was a moment of joy he would not +lightly forego. Nor did he care what time, patience, or money it cost +him. To strike at those whom he hated was as the breath of life to +him. And he meant to drink deeply of his cup of joy. + +His moment came. It came swiftly, suddenly, like most matters of great +import. His opportunity came at the psychological moment, when the +last shred of temperance had been torn from wild, lawless hearts, +which, in such moments, were little better than those of savage +beasts. It came when the poison of complaint and bitterness had at +last searched out the inmost recesses of stunted, brutalized minds. +And Beasley snatched at it hungrily, like a worm-ridden dog will +snatch at the filthiest offal. + +The drunken voice of Abe Allinson lifted above the general din. He was +lolling against one end of the counter, isolated from his fellows by +reason of his utterly stupefied condition. He was in a state when he +no longer had interest for his companions. He rolled about blear-eyed +and hopelessly mumbling, with a half-emptied glass in his hand, which +he waved about uncertainly. Suddenly an impotent spasm of rage seemed +to take hold of him. With a hoarse curse he raised his glass and +hurled it crashing against the wall. Then, with a wild, prolonged +whoop he shouted the result of his drunken cogitations. + +"We'll burn 'em! Drown 'em! Shoot 'em! Hang 'em! Come on, fellers, +foller me!" + +He made a staggering effort to leave his support. He straightened up. +For a moment he poised, swaying. Then he pitched forward on his face +and lay stretched full length upon the floor. + +But all had heard. And Beasley snatched at his opportunity. He sprang +upon the counter in the moment of astonished quiet, and, before +tongues broke loose again, he had the whole attention of the crowd. + +"Here, boys," he cried. "Abe's right. Drunk as he is, he's right. Only +he sure wants to do too much--more than his legs'll let him." He +grinned. "We're goin' to do this thing right now. But we're goin' to +do it like good citizens of a dandy city. We ain't goin' to act like a +gang of lynchers. We're dealin' with a gal, with gold ha'r an' blue +eyes, an' we're goin' to deal accordin'. We ain't lookin' fer her +life. That's too easy, an', wal--she's a woman. No, we're goin' to rid +this place of her an' all her tribe. We're goin' to make it so she +can't stop to do no more harm, bringin' sheriffs around. We're goin' +to burn her home right out, an' we're goin' to set her in her wagon +an' team, an' let her drive to hell out of here. We're goin' to do it +right now, before the sheriff gets busy along here. After that we'll +be too late. Are you game? Who's comin'? We're goin' to burn that +Jonah farm till ther' ain't a stick left above ground to say it ever +stood there. That's what we're goin' to do, an' I'm the man who'll +start the bonfire. Say, we'll make it like a fourth o' July. We'll +have one royal time--an' we'll be quit of all Jonahs." + +As he finished speaking he leapt to the ground amidst the crowd. Nor +did he need to wait to hear the response to his appeal. It came in one +of those unanimous, drunken roars, only to be heard in such a place, +at such a time, or on a battle-field, when insensate fury demands a +raucous outlet. Every man in the place, lost, for the moment, to all +the dictates of honest manhood, was ready to follow the leadership of +one whom, in sober moments, they all disliked. It was an extraordinary +exhibition of the old savage which ever lies so near the surface in +men upon the fringe of civilization. + +Nor did Beasley give them time to think. His orders came rapidly. The +bartender, for once his eyes sparkling at the thought of trouble about +to visit an unsuspecting fellow-creature, hurled himself to the task +of dealing out one large final drink to everybody. Then when a +sufficient supply of materials of an inflammatory nature had been +gathered together, the saloon-keeper placed himself at the head of his +men, supported by the only too willing Diamond Jack, and the +procession started out. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +STRONGER THAN DEATH + + +From the time of her aunt's going to Leeson Butte to the morning of +her return to the farm Joan passed through a nightmare of uncertainty +and hopelessness. Every moment of her time seemed unreal. Her very +life seemed unreal. It was as though her mind were detached from her +body, and she was gazing upon the scenes of a drama in which she had +no part, while yet she was weighted down with an oppressive fear of +the tragedy which she knew was yet to come. + +Every moment she felt that the threat of disaster was growing. That it +was coming nearer and nearer, and that now no power on earth could +avert it. + +Twice only during that dreary interval of waiting she saw Buck. But +even his presence did little more than ease her dread and despair, +leaving it crushing her down the more terribly with the moment of his +going. He came to her with his usual confidence, but it was only with +information of his own preparations for his defense of his friend. She +could listen to them, told in his strong, reliant manner, with hope +stirring her heart and a great, deep love for the man thrilling her +every nerve. But with his going came the full realization of the +significance of the necessity of such preparations. The very +recklessness of them warned her beyond doubt how small was the chance +of the Padre's escape. Buck had declared his certainty of outwitting +the law, even if it necessitated using force against the man whom he +intended to save. + +Left to her own resources Joan found them weak enough. So weak indeed +that at last she admitted to herself that the evidences of the curse +that had dogged her through life were no matters of distorted +imagination. They were real enough. Terribly real. And the admission +found her dreading and helpless. She knew she had gone back to the +fatal obsession, which, aided by the Padre and her lover, she had so +loyally contended. She knew in those dark moments she was weakly +yielding. These men had come into her life, had sown fresh seeds of +promise, but they had been sown in soil choked with weeds of +superstition, and so had remained wholly unfruitful. + +How could it be otherwise? Hard upon the heels of Buck's love had come +this deadly attack of fate upon him and his. The miracle of it was +stupendous. It had come in a way that was utterly staggering. It had +come, not as with those others who had gone before, but out of her +life. It had come direct from her and hers. And the disaster +threatened was not merely death but disgrace, disgrace upon a good +man, even upon her lover, which would last as long as they two had +life. + +The sense of tragedy merged into the maddening thought of the +injustice of it. It was monstrous. It was a tyranny for which there +was no justification, and it goaded her to the verge of hysteria. +Whatever she did now the hand of fate would move on irrevocably +fulfilling its purpose to the bitter end. She knew it. In spite of all +Buck's confidence, all his efforts to save his friend, the disaster +would be accomplished, and her lover would be lost to her in the +vortex of her evil destiny. + +Fool--fool that she had been. Wicked even, yes, wicked, that she had +not foreseen whither her new life was drifting. It was for her to have +anticipated the shoals of trouble in the tide of Buck's strong young +life. It was for her to have prevented the mingling of their lives. It +was for her to have shut him out of her thoughts and denied him access +to the heart that beat so warmly for him. She had been weak, so weak. +On every count she had failed to prove the strength she had believed +herself to possess. It was a heart-breaking thought. + +But she loved. It would have been impossible to have denied her love. +She would not have denied it if she could. Her rebellion against her +fate now carried her further. She had the right to love this man. She +had the right which belongs to every woman in the world. And he +desired her love. He desired it above all things in the world--and he +had no fear. + +Then the strangeness of it. With all that had gone before she had had +no misgivings until the moment he had poured out all the strength of +his great love into her yearning ears. She had not recognized the +danger besetting them. She had not paused to ask a question of +herself, to think of the possibilities. She loved him, and the thought +of his love thrilled her even now amidst all her despair. But the +moment his words of love had been spoken, even with the first +wonderful thrill of joy had come the reality of awakening. Then--then +it was that the evil of her fate had unmasked itself and showed its +hideous features, leering, mocking, in the memory of what had gone +before, taunting her for her weakly efforts to escape the doom marked +out for her. + +All this she thought of in her black moments. All this and far, far +more than could ever take shape in words. And her terror of what was +to come became unspeakable. But through it all one thing, one gleam of +hope obtruded itself. It was not a tangible hope. It was not even a +hope that could have found expression. It was merely a picture that +ever confronted her, even when darkness seemed most nearly to +overwhelm her. + +It was the picture of Buck's young face, full of strength and +confidence. Somehow the picture was always one of hope. It caught no +reflection of her own trouble, but lived in her memory undiminished by +any despair, however black. + +Once or twice she found herself wondering at it. Sometimes she felt it +to be merely a trick of memory to taunt her with that which could +never be, and so she tried to shut out the vague hopes it aroused. +But, as time went on, and the hour for her aunt's return drew near, +the recurrence of the picture became so persistent that it was rarely +out of her mental vision. It was a wonderful thought. She saw him as +she had seen him when first he laughed her threat of disaster and +death to scorn. She could never forget that moment. She could hear his +laugh now, that laugh, so full of youthful courage, which had rung +through the old barn. + +Pondering thus her mind suddenly traveled back to something which, in +the midst of all her tribulations, had completely passed out of her +recollection. She was startled. She was startled so that she gasped +with the sudden feeling it inspired. What was it? Something her aunt +had said. Yes, she remembered now. And with memory the very words came +back to her, full of portentous meaning. And as they rushed pell-mell +through her straining brain a great uplifting bore her toward that +hope which she suddenly realized was not yet dead. + +"Go you and find a love so strong that no disaster can kill it. And +maybe life may still have some compensations for you, maybe it will +lift the curse from your suffering shoulders. It--it is the only thing +in the world that is stronger than disaster. It is the only thing in +the world that is stronger than--death." + +They were her aunt's words spoken in the vehemence of her prophetic +passion. It was the one thing, she had warned her, that could save +her. + +Was this the love she had found? Was this the love to lead her to +salvation--this wonderful love of Buck's? Was this that which was to +leave life some compensations? Was this that which was stronger than +disaster--than death? Yes, yes! Her love was her life. And now without +it she must die. Yes, yes! Buck--young, glorious in his courage and +strength. He was stronger than disaster, and their love--was it not +stronger than death? + +From the moment of this wonderful recollection, a gentle calm +gradually possessed her. The straining of those two long wakeful +nights, the nightmare of dread which had pursued her into the daylight +hours, left her with a sudden ease of thought she had never hoped to +find again. It all came back to her. Her aunt had told her whither she +must seek the key that would unlock the prison gates of fate, and all +inadvertently she had found it. + +In Buck's love must lay her salvation. With that stronger than death +no disaster could come. He was right, and she was all wrong. He had +laughed them to scorn--she must join in his laugh. + +So at last came peace. The last wakeful night before the morning of +her aunt's return terminated in a few hours of refreshing, much-needed +slumber. Hope had dawned, and the morrow must bring the morrow's +events. She would endeavor to await them with something of the +confidence which supported Buck. + + * * * * * + +The room was still, so still that its atmosphere might have been +likened to the night outside, which was heavy with the presage of +coming storm. There was a profound feeling of opposing forces at work, +yet the silence remained undisturbed. + +It was nearly nine o'clock, and the yellow lamplight shed its soft +monotony over the little parlor, revealing the occupants of the room +in attitudes of tense concentration, even antagonism. Mercy Lascelles +swayed slowly to and fro in the new rocking-chair Joan had purchased +for her comfort. Her attenuated figure was huddled down in that +familiar attitude which the girl knew so well, but her face wore an +expression which Joan had never beheld before. + +Usually her hard eyes were coldly unsmiling. Now they +smiled--terribly. Usually her thin cheeks were almost dead white in +their pallor. Now they were flushed and hectic with a suggestion of +the inward fire that lit her eyes. The harsh mouth was irrevocably +set, till nose and chin looked as though they soon must meet, while +the hideous dark rings showed up the cruel glare of her eyes, which +shone diabolically. + +Joan stood some paces away. She was looking down aghast at the +crouching figure, and her eyes were horrified. This was the first she +had seen of her relative since her return that morning. The old woman +had shut herself up in her bedroom, refusing to speak, or to eat, all +day. But now she had emerged from her seclusion, and Joan had been +forced to listen to the story of her journey. + +It was a painful story, and still more painfully told. It was full of +a cruel enjoyment such as never in her life Joan had believed this +woman capable of. Her eccentricities were many, her nervous tendencies +strange and often weird, but never had such a side of her character as +she now presented been allowed to rise to the surface. + +At first Joan wondered as she listened. She wondered at the fierce +purpose which underlaid this weakly body. But with each passing +moment, with each fresh detail of her motives and methods, her wonder +deepened to a rapidly growing conviction which filled her with horror +and repulsion. She told herself that the woman was no longer sane. At +last she had fallen a victim to her racked and broken nerves, as the +doctors had prophesied. To them, and to the everlasting brooding upon +her disappointments and injuries for all these long years. + +This she felt, and yet the feeling conveyed no real conviction to her +mind. All she knew was that loathing and repulsion stirred her, until +the thought revolted her that she was breathing the same air as one +who could be capable of such vicious cruelty. But she struggled to +stifle all outward sign. And though she was only partly successful she +contrived to keep her words calm, even if her eyes, those windows of +her simple girl's soul, would not submit to such control. + +"I'm over fifty now, girl," Mercy finished up, in a low suppressed +tone, husky with feeling, yet thrilling with a cruel triumph. "Over +fifty, and, for the last twenty and more years of it, I have waited +for this moment. I have waited with a patience you can never +understand because you have never been made to suffer as I have. But I +knew it would come. I have known it every day of those twenty years, +because I have read it in that book in which I have read so many +things which concern human life. I was robbed of life years and years +ago. Yes, life. I have been a dead woman these twenty years. My life +was gone when your father died, leaving you, another woman's child, in +my hands. God in heaven! Sometimes I wonder why I did not strangle the +wretched life out of you years ago--you, another woman's child, but +yet with Charles Stanmore's blood in your veins. Perhaps it was +because of that I spared your life. Perhaps it was because I read your +fate, and knew you had to suffer, that I preferred my sister's child +should reap the reward of her mother's crime--yes, crime. Perhaps it +was that while Charles Stanmore lived my hopes and longings were still +capable of fulfilment. But he is dead--dead years and years ago. And +with his death my life went out too. Now there is only revenge. No, +not revenge," she laughed, "justice to be dealt out. That justice it +is my joy to see dispensed. That justice it is my joy to feel that my +hand has brought its administering about. + +"I have laid all the information necessary. I have a lawyer in Leeson +Butte in communication with my man in New York. And--and the sheriff +and his men will be here before daylight. Oh, yes, I can afford to +tell you now that the work is accomplished. You shall have no +opportunity of communicating with your friends. I shall not sleep +to-night. Nor will you leave this house. There is a means of holding +you here. A means which will never be far from my hand." She tapped +the bosom of her dress significantly, and Joan understood that she had +armed herself. "The arrest will be made while they are still sleeping +in that old fort of theirs--and your young Buck will pay the penalty +if he interferes. Yes, yes," she added, rubbing her lean, almost +skeleton hands together in an access of satisfaction, "when you sip +your coffee in the morning, my girl, your Buck's foster-father will be +on his way to the jail from which he will only emerge for the comfort +of an electric chair. I have endured twenty years of mental torture, +but--I have not endured them in vain." + +The cold, consummate completeness with which the woman detailed her +carefully considered plans turned Joan's heart to stone. It chilled +her and left her shivering in the awful heat. For one moment, one weak +moment when her woman's spirit quailed before the deadly array of +facts, she felt faint, and one hand sought the table for support. But +with a tremendous effort she recovered herself. It was the thought of +Buck which helped her. She could not let him fall into the trap so +well laid by this--this creature, without an effort to save them both. +In a flash her mind pictured the scene of the Padre's capture. She saw +the fort surrounded by the "deputies." She saw the Padre shackled +before he could rise from his blankets. She saw Buck, under cover of +ruthless firearms, hurl himself to the rescue and pay for his temerity +with his life. In a sudden overwhelming passion of appeal she flung +herself on her knees before the terrible old woman. + +"Aunt, aunt!" she cried. "You cannot be so heartless, so cruel. There +is a mistake. You are mistaken. The Padre swears to his innocence, and +if you knew him as I know him, as all this countryside knows him, you +_must_ believe. He is not capable of murder. My father committed +suicide. Think, think of all that went before his death, and you, too, +will see that everything points to suicide. Oh, aunt, think of what +you are doing. The plans you have made _must_ involve the man I love. +A perfectly innocent man, as even you know. If my father was all your +world, so is Buck all mine. He will defend the Padre. I know him. And +as you say he will pay the penalty with his life. If you have one +grain of pity, if you have one remaining thought of love for my dead +father, then spare this man to his daughter. Where is the right that +you should involve Buck? You do not even know him. Oh, aunt, you have +lived all these twenty years with me. In your own way you have cared +for me. Sacrifice your enmity against this innocent man. It will give +you a peace of mind you have never known before, and will give me the +happiness of the man I love." + +Mercy's eyes lit with fine scorn as she caught at Joan's final words. + +"The happiness of the man you love!" she cried with passionate anger, +"Why should I give you your man's love? Why should I help any woman to +a happiness I have never been allowed to taste? Perhaps it pleases me +to think that your Buck will be involved. Have I not warned you of the +disaster which you have permitted him to court? Listen, girl, not one +detail of all that which I have waited for will I forego. Not one +detail. When it is accomplished nothing on earth matters to me. The +sooner I am off it the better. The sooner I leave this world for +other realms the sooner I shall be able to pursue those others who +have injured me and passed on to--a fresh habitation. Do you +understand? Do you understand that I will brook no interference from +you? Peace, child, I want no more talk. When this night is over I +leave here--nor shall I ever willingly cross your path again. You are +another woman's child, and so long as you live, so long as we are +brought into contact, the sting of the past must ever remain in my +heart. Go to your bed, and leave me to watch and wait until the +morning." + +The old woman's domination was strong--it was so strong that Joan felt +appalled before the terrible mental force she was putting forth. The +horror of her diseased mind sickened her, and filled her with +something closely allied to terror. But she would not submit. Her love +was greater than her courage, her power to resist for herself. She was +thinking of those two men, but most of all she was thinking of Buck. +She was determined upon another effort. And when that effort was +spent--upon still another. + +"Listen to me, aunt," she cried with no longer any attempt at appeal, +with no longer any display of regard for this woman as a relation. "I +am mistress in my own house, and I shall do as I choose. I, too, shall +sit up and you will have to listen to me." + +Mercy smiled ironically. + +"Yes, you are mistress in your own house, so long as you do not +attempt to interfere with my plans. Sit up, girl, if you choose, and +talk. I am prepared to listen even though your twaddle bores me." + +A sound caught Joan's attention, and the desperate position of her +lover and his friend set thought flashing swiftly through her mind. +The sound was of Mrs. Ransford moving in the kitchen. + +"Then listen to this," she cried. "You have told me that I am cursed. +You have told me that death and disaster must follow me wherever I go. +I love Buck. It is the first and only time I shall ever love. I know +that. He is the love of my whole life. Without him, without his love, +life to me is inconceivable. He and his love are so precious to me +that I would give my life for his at any moment--now, if need be. I +want you to know that. You have armed yourself so that I shall not +interfere with your plans. I tell you it is useless, for I shall warn +him--cost me what it may." + +She watched the other closely. She watched for the effect of her +words--every one of which was spoken from the bottom of her heart. The +effect was what she anticipated. She knew this woman's expressed +intention was deliberate, and would be carried out. One hand moved +toward her lean bosom, and Joan knew, without doubt, what she had to +face. Turning her back deliberately she moved across to the window, +which was wide open in a vain attempt to cool the superheated room, +and took up her place near the table, so that she was in full view of +her aunt's insane eyes. Then she went on at once-- + +"You call it justice that you would mete out to the Padre. I tell you +it is a ruthless, cold-hearted revenge, which amounts to deliberate +murder. It is murder because you know he cannot prove his innocence. +That, perhaps, is your affair. But Buck's life is mine. And in +threatening the Padre you threaten him, because he will defend his +friend to the last. Perhaps by this, in your insane vanity, you hope +to justify yourself as a seer and prophetess, instead of being +forced to the admission that you are nothing but a mountebank, an +unscrupulous mountebank--and even worse. But I will humor you. I will +show you how your own words are coming back on you. I had almost +forgotten them, so lost was I in my foolish belief in your powers. You +told me there was salvation for me in a love that was stronger than +death. Well, I have found that love. And if, as you claim, there is +truth in your science, then I challenge you, the disaster and death +you would now bring about cannot--will not take place. You are only a +woman of earthly powers, a heartless creature, half demented by your +venomous hatred of a good man. Your ends can, and will be defeated." + +She paused, breathing hard with the emotion which the effort of her +denunciation had inspired, and in that pause she beheld a vision of +devilish hatred and purpose such as she could never have believed +possible in her aunt. + +"You would rebel! You challenge me!" cried Mercy, springing from her +chair with a movement almost unbelievable in so ailing a creature. +"You are mad--utterly mad. It is not I who am insane, but you--you. +You call me a mountebank. What has your life been? Has not everything +I have told you been part of it? Even here--here. Did I not tell you +you could not escape your curse? Have you escaped it? And you think +you can escape it now." She laughed suddenly, a hideous laugh which +set Joan shuddering. "The love you have found must prove itself. You +say it is the love that will save you. I tell you it is not. Nothing +can save this man now. Nothing can save your Buck if he interferes +now. Nothing can save you, if you interfere now. I tell you I have +taken every care that there is no loophole of escape. No earthly power +can serve you." + +"No earthly power?" Joan echoed the words unconsciously, while she +stood fascinated by that terrible face so working with malignant +hatred. + +But only for a moment it held her. Her love was stronger that all her +woman's fears. Her Buck was in danger, and that other. The warning. +She must get that warning to them. + +Suddenly she leant forward upon the table as though to emphasize what +she had to say. + +"Whatever happens to-night, aunt," she cried, her big eyes glowing in +a growing excitement, her red-gold hair shining like burnished copper +in the light from the lamp which was so near to it, "I hope God may +forgive you this terrible wicked spirit which is driving you. Some day +I may find it in my heart to forgive you. That which I have to do you +are driving me to, and I pray God I may succeed." + +As the last word left her lips she seized the lamp from the table, +and, with all her strength, hurled it through the open window. As it +sped it extinguished itself and crashed to the ground outside, leaving +the room in utter darkness. At the same instant she sprang to the sill +of the open window, and flung herself from the room. As she, too, fell +to the ground a shot rang out behind her, and she felt the bullet tear +through her masses of coiled hair. + +But her excitement was at fever heat. She waited for nothing. Her +lover's life was claiming every nerve in her body. His life, and that +other's. She scrambled to her feet and dodged clear of the window, +just as a chorus of harsh execration reached her ears. She looked +toward the barns and hay corrals whence the sound came, and, on the +instant, a hideous terror seized upon her. The barn was afire! The hay +had just been fired! And, in the inky blackness of the night, the +ruddy glow leapt suddenly and lit up the figures of a crowd of men, +now shouting and blaspheming at the result of the shot from the house. + +For one moment Joan stood still, trembling in every limb, heedless of +the vengeful creature behind her. She was overwhelmed by the now utter +and complete hopelessness of her case. Her horses were in the barn +which had been fired. And they were her only means of reaching her +lover. + +Then in a moment, as she beheld the shouting crowd coming toward the +house, voicing their intent to burn that, along with its occupants, +her mind went back to those still within. The wretched woman, whose +death by burning might save the Padre, and her rough but faithful +housekeeper. Regardless of all consequences to herself, now regardless +even of the lives of those two men she had hoped to save, she ran back +to the house. + +Flight alone could save the women inside from this drunken crowd. +Flight--and at once. For, resentful at the shot which had felled one +of their comrades, the lawless minds of these creatures saw but one +course to pursue. Well enough Joan knew their doctrine of a life for a +life. She must go back. She must save those two from this ravening +horde. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +THE TEMPEST BREAKS + + +Buck moved out of Caesar's stall. He had just finished lightly securing +the double cinchas of his saddle. The bulging saddle-bags had been +made fast behind the cantle and the wallets strapped upon the horn. +Now the great animal was hungrily devouring an added feed of oats +which his master had poured into its manger. + +The man glanced over the equipments, and moved to the other end of the +stable, where stood the Padre's heavily built chestnut. It, too, was +ready saddled as though for a journey. Here again the saddle-bags and +wallets had been filled and adjusted. Here again the creature was +devouring an extra feed. + +Buck heaved a sigh of satisfaction and turned away to where the +lantern was hanging on a nail in the wooden wall. Close beside this a +belt, loaded down with revolver ammunition, and carrying two holsters +from which the butts of a pair of heavy revolvers protruded, was +suspended from another nail. This he took down and strapped about his +waist. + +His work for the night was done, and all his preparations made. The +night itself must direct the further course of action for him. As far +as he could see he had prepared for every possible development, but, +as he admitted to himself, he could only see from his own point of +view. He was at work against two opposing forces. There was the law +and Bob Richards on the one hand, and, on the other, the Padre, with a +determination equal to his own. Of the two, he felt that the +redoubtable Bob, backed by the law, would be far the easier to deal +with. + +This night, he anticipated, was to be the last he spent in that old +fort. He more than anticipated it; he felt certain. He had heard early +in the day of the return of Joan's Aunt Mercy, and this was an +all-sufficient reason for his belief. Since that moment he had +completed every preparation which before he had only tentatively +considered; and such matters had been attended to entirely independent +of his friend. + +This had to be. It was useless to inform him of anything, worse than +useless, until the last moment, when he intended that his schemes +should be executed to the last detail. After much painful thought he +had finally decided upon coercion to gain his ends. No mere bluff, but +a straightforward, honest declaration of his intentions. It was very +hurtful that he must do this thing. But he could not help it. He had +resolved on saving his friend from himself, and no considerations of +personal feelings or, in fact, anybody's feelings, should be allowed +to stand in his way. He regarded his duty as a man, and not as a +law-abiding citizen. He had no real understanding of the law. His was +the only law that guided him, and his law demanded of him, rightly or +wrongly, the defense from all harm of those whom he loved. + +His manhood dictated this, and he had no thought of personal danger, +or toward what painful destiny it might carry him. The future belonged +to the future, life and death were things of no more account than +waking to daylight, or the profound slumbers of night. Those who +would injure him or his friend must be dealt with in the only way he +understood. To outwit them was his first thought, but he must defeat +their ends if it cost him his life. + +This was the man who had learned from the book of Life, as it is +written in the earth's rough places. He was not naturally desperate, +but, as with the creatures of the forests, which had taught him so +many lessons, when brought to bay in defense of their own, so he was +ready to bare his teeth--and use them. + +He reached for the lantern with the thought of extinguishing it. But +he changed his mind. There was no window that the light might become a +beacon. He would close the door and leave it burning. + +He turned to pass out, but remained where he was. The Padre was +standing in the doorway, and his steady eyes were upon the saddled +horses. + +Buck had no word of greeting to offer. His dark eyes were intently +fixed upon the other's face. In a moment his friend turned to him. + +"It's just on nine, Buck," he said, in his kindest fashion. "We +haven't eaten yet--it's ready." + +It was Buck's turn to glance over at the horses so busily eating their +oats. A curious smile lit his eyes. He knew well enough that the other +had more than fathomed the meaning of those preparations. He was glad +he had made no attempt to conceal them. That sort of thing was never +his way. He had nothing to conceal from his friend. + +"I had a few chores to git fixed," he said easily, indicating the +horses. "They'll sure need a good feed before daylight, I guess." + +The Padre pointed at his belt and revolvers. + +"And you're sleeping in--them." + +"Guess I'm not sleepin'--to-night." + +"No--I suppose not." + +The Padre looked into the strong young face with a speculative glance. + +Buck returned his look with a sudden eagerness. + +"You heard?" he asked sharply. + +"I've heard--Mercy is back." + +Buck watched him turn away to continue his survey of the horses. + +"So have you--I s'pose," the older man went on a moment later, +indicating the horses. + +"Yep. Guess they'll need to do a long journey soon. Mebbe--to-night." + +"Caesar?" said the Padre. + +"Both," returned Buck, with an emphasis, the meaning of which could +not well be missed. + +The Padre's eyes were smiling. He glanced round the tumbled-down old +barn. They had contrived to house their horses very comfortably, and +Buck kept them wonderfully cared for. These things appealed to him in +a way that made him regret many things. + +"Who's riding--my plug?" the Padre asked deliberately. + +Buck shrugged. + +"Why ask?" he said doggedly. "Who generally does? I don't seem to +guess we need beat around," he went on impatiently. "That ain't bin +our way, Padre. Guess those hosses are ready for us. They'll be ready +night an' day--till the time comes. Then--wal, we're both goin' to use +'em." + +The younger man's impatience had no disturbing effect upon the other. +But his smile deepened to a great look of affection. + +"Still chewin' that bone?" he said. Then he shook his head. "What's +the use? We're just men, you and I; we got our own way of seeing +things. Twenty years ago maybe I'd have seen things your way. Twenty +years hence no doubt you'll see things mine----" + +"Jest so," Buck broke in, his eyes lighting, and a strong note +suddenly adding force to his interruption. "But I'm not waitin' twenty +years so's to see things diff'rent." + +"That's what I should have said--twenty years ago." + +Buck's face suddenly flushed, and his dark brows drew together as he +listened to the calm words of his friend. In a moment his answer was +pouring from his lips in a hot tide which swept his hearer along and +made him rejoice at the bond which existed between them. Nor, in those +moments, could he help feeling glad for that day when he had found the +hungry wayfarer at the trail-side. + +"Ther's more than twenty years between us, sure," Buck cried with +intense feeling. "Nuthin' can alter that, an' ther's sure nuthin' can +make us see out o' the same eyes, nor feel with the same feelin's. +Ther's nuthin' can make things seem the same to us. I know that, an' +it ain't no use you tellin' me. Guess we're made diff'rent that +way--an' I allow it's as well. If we weren't, wal, I guess neither of +us would have things right. See here, Padre, you give most everything +to me you could, ever since you brought me along to the farm. That's +because it's your way to give. I hadn't nuthin' to give. I haven't +nuthin' to give now. I can't even give way. Guess you can, though, +because it's your nature, and because I'm askin' it. Padre, I'm goin' +to act mean. I'm goin' to act so mean it'll hurt you. But it won't +hurt you more than it'll hurt me. Mebbe it won't jest hurt you so +much. But I'm goin' to act that way--because it's my way--when I'm set +up agin it. You're settin' me up agin it now." + +He paused, vainly watching the other's steady eyes for a sign. + +"Go on." The Padre's smile was undiminished. + +Buck made an impatient movement, and pointed at the horses. + +"See them? Ther' they stand," he cried. "Ther' they'll sure stand till +we both set out for the long trail. I got it all fixed. I got more +than that fixed. See these guns?" He tapped one of the guns at his +waist. "They're loaded plumb up. The belt's full of shots. I got two +repeatin' rifles stowed away, an' their magazines are loaded plumb up, +too. Wal--unless you say right here you're goin' to hit the trail with +me, when--things get busy; unless you tell me right out you're goin' +to let me square off jest a bit of the score you got chalked up agin +me all these years by lettin' me help you out in this racket, then I'm +goin' to set right out ther' by the old stockade, and when Bob +Richards gets around, he an' as many of his dogone dep'ties as I can +pull down are goin' to get their med'cine. They'll need to take me +with you, Padre. Guess I'm sharin' that 'chair' with you, if they +don't hand it me before I get ther'. What I'm sayin' goes, every word +of it. This thing goes, jest as sure as I'll blow Bob Richards to hell +before he lays hand on you." + +The younger man's eyes shone with a passionate determination. There +was no mistaking it. His was a fanatical loyalty that was almost +staggering. + +The Padre drew a sharp breath. He had not studied this youngster for +all those years without understanding something of the recklessness he +was capable of. Buck's lips were tightly compressed, his thin nostrils +dilating with the intense feeling stirring him. His cheeks were pale, +and his dark eyes flashed their burning light in the dim glow of the +lantern. He stood with hands gripping, and the muscles of his bare +arms writhed beneath the skin with the force with which they clenched. +He was strung to an emotion such as the Padre had never before seen in +him, and it left the older man wavering. + +He glanced away. + +"Aren't we worrying this thing on the crossways?" he said, endeavoring +to disguise his real feelings. + +But Buck would have none of it. He was in no mood for evasion. In no +mood for anything but the straightest of straight talk. + +"Ther's no crosswise to me," he cried bluntly, with a heat that might +almost have been taken for anger. Then, in a moment, his manner +changed. His tone softened, and the drawn brows smoothed. "Say, you +bin better'n a father to me. You sure have. Can I stand around an' see +you passed over to a low-down sort o' law that condemns innocent +folks? No, Padre, not--not even for Joan's sake. I jest love that +little Joan, Padre. I love her so desprit bad I'd do most anything for +her sake. You reckon this thing needs doin' for her." He shook his +head. "It don't. An' if it did, an' she jest wanted it done--which she +don't--I'd butt in to stop it. Say, I love her that way I want to fix +her the happiest gal in this country--in the world. But if seein' you +go to the law without raisin' a hand to stop it was to make her +happy, guess her chances that way 'ud be so small you couldn't never +find 'em. If my life figures in her happiness, an' I'm savin' that +life while you take your chance of penitentiary an'--the 'chair,' wal, +I guess she'll go miserable fer jest as many years as she goes on +livin'." + +The Padre turned away. It was impossible for him to longer face those +earnest young eyes pleading to be allowed to give their life for his +liberty. The reckless prodigality of the youngster's heart filled him +with an emotion that would not be denied. He moved over to where Caesar +stood, and smoothed the great creature's silky quarters with a shaking +hand. Buck's storming he could have withstood, but not--this. + +The other followed his every movement, as a beggar watches for the +glance of sympathy. And as the moments passed, and the Padre remained +silent, his voice, keyed sharply, further urged him. + +"Wal?" + +But the other was thinking, thinking rapidly of all those things which +his conscience, and long years of weary hiding prompted. He was trying +to adapt his focus anew. His duty had seemed so plain to him. Then, +too, his inclination had been at work. His intention had not seemed a +great sacrifice to him. He was weary of it all--these years of +avoiding his fellows. These years during which his mind had been +thrown back upon the thought of whither all his youthful, headlong +follies and--cowardice had driven him. Strong man as he was, something +of his strength had been undermined by the weary draining of those +years. He no longer had that desire to escape, which, in youth, had +urged him. He was almost anxious to face his accusers. And with that +thought he knew that he was getting old. Yes, he was getting old--and +Buck--Buck was almost his son. He could not see the boy's young life +thrown away for him, a life so full of promise, so full of quiet +happiness. He knew that that would happen if he persisted. He knew +that every word of Buck's promise would be carried out to the letter. +That was his way. There was no alternative left now but for him to +give way. So he turned back and held out his hand. + +"What you say--goes," he said huskily. "I--I hope what we're doing is +right." + +Buck caught the strong hand in his, and the other winced under his +grip. + +"Right?" he cried, his eyes shining with a great happiness. "Right? +You'll save that old woman the worst crime on earth. You're savin' the +law from a crime which it's no right to commit. You're handin' little +Joan a happiness you can't even guess at in keepin' your liberty--an' +me, wal, you're handin' me back my life. Say, I ain't goin' to thank +you, Padre. I don't guess I know how. That ain't our way." He laughed +happily. "Guess the score you got agin me is still mountin' right up. +I don't never seem to git it squared. Wal, we'll let it go. Maybe it's +almost a pity Bob Richards won't never have the chance of thanking you +for--savin' his life, too." + +The delight in his manner, his shining joy were almost sufficient +recompense to the Padre. He had given way to this youngster as he +always gave way. It had been so from the first. Yes, it was always so, +and--he was glad. + +Buck turned toward the door, and, as he did so, his arm affectionately +linked into that of his friend. + +"We'll need that supper, Padre," he said, more soberly. "There's a +long night, and it ain't easy to guess what may happen before +daylight. Come right along." + +They passed the doorway, but proceeded no farther. Buck held up his +hand, and they stood listening. + +"Wait! Hark!" he cried, and both turned their eyes toward the westward +hills. + +As they stood, a low, faint growl of thunder murmured down the distant +hillsides, and died away in the long-drawn sigh of a rising wind. The +wind swept on, and the rustling trees and suddenly creaking branches +of the forest answered that sharp, keen breath. + +"It's coming--from the northwest," said the Padre, as though the +direction were significant. + +"Yes." Buck nodded with understanding. "That's wher' the other come +from." + +They stood for some moments waiting for a further sign. But nothing +came. The night was pitch black. There was no break anywhere in the +sky. The lamplight in the house stared out sharp and clear, but the +house itself, as with the barns and other outbuildings, the stockade, +even the line of the tree tops where they met the sky, was quite lost +in the inky night. + +"It'll come quick," said the Padre. + +"Sure." + +They moved on to the house, and in a few minutes were sitting down to +one of those silent meals which was so much a part of their habit. Yet +each man was alert. Each man was thinking of those things which they +knew to be threatening. Each man was ready for what might be +forthcoming. Be it tempest or disaster, be it battle or death, each +was ready to play his part, each was ready to accept the verdict as it +might be given. + +Buck was the first to push back from the table. He rose from his seat +and lit his pipe. Then, as the pungent fumes lolled heavily on the +superheated air, he passed over to the open window and took his seat +upon the sill. + +The Padre was more leisurely. He remained in his seat and raked out +the bowl of his pipe with the care of a keen smoker. Then he cut his +tobacco carefully from his plug, and rolled it thoughtfully in the +palms of his hands. + +"Say, about little Joan," he said abruptly. "Will she join us on----?" + +His question remained unfinished. At that instant Buck sprang from his +seat and leant out of the window. The Padre was at his side in an +instant. + +"What----?" + +"Holy Mackinaw! Look!" cried Buck, in an awed tone. + +He was pointing with one arm outstretched in a direction where the +ruined stockade had fallen, leaving a great gaping space. The opening +was sharply silhouetted against a wide glow of red and yellow light, +which, as they watched, seemed to grow brighter with each passing +moment. + +Each man was striving to grasp the full significance of what he +beheld. It was fire. It needed no second thought to convince them of +that. But where--what? It was away across the valley, beyond the +further lip which rose in a long, low slope. It was to the left of +Devil's Hill, but very little. For that, too, was dimly silhouetted, +even at that distance. + +The Padre was the first to speak. + +"It's big. But it's not the camp," he said. "Maybe it's the--forest." + +For a moment Buck made no answer. But a growing look of alarm was in +his straining eyes. + +"It's not a prairie fire," the Padre went on. "There's not enough +grass that way. Say, d'you think----" A sudden fear had leapt into his +eyes, too, and his question remained unfinished. + +Buck stirred. He took a deep breach. The alarm in his eyes had +suddenly possessed his whole being. Something seemed to be clutching +his heart, so that he was almost stifled. + +"It's none o' them things," he said, striving to keep his voice +steady. Then of a sudden he reached out, and clutched the arm of his +friend, so that his powerful fingers sank deep into its flesh. + +"It's the--farm!" he cried, in a tone that rang with a terrible dread. +"Come on! The hosses!" And he dashed from the room before the last +sound of his voice had died out. + +The Padre was hard on his heels. With danger abroad he was no laggard. +Joan--poor little Joan! And there were miles to be covered before her +lover could reach her. + +But the dark shadows of disaster were crowding fast. Evil was abroad +searching every corner of the mountain world for its prey. Almost in a +moment the whole scene was changed, and the dull inertia of past days +was swept aside amidst a hurricane of storm and demoniacal tempest. + +A crash of appalling thunder greeted the ears of the speeding men. The +earth seemed to shake to its very foundations. Ear-splitting +detonations echoed from crag to crag, and down deep into the valleys +and canyons, setting the world alive with a sudden chaos. Peal after +peal roared over the hills, and the lightning played, hissing and +shrieking upon ironstone crowns, like a blinding display of +pyrotechnics. + +There was no pause in the sudden storm. There was no mercy for +wretched human nerves. The blinding light was one endless chain, +sweeping across the heavens as though bent on forever wresting from +its path the black shadows that defied it. + +And amidst all this turmoil, amidst all the devastating roar, which +shook the earth as though bent on wrecking the very mountains +themselves, amidst all the blinding, hellish light, so fierce, so +intense, that the last secrets of the remotest forest depths must be +yielded up, two horsemen dashed down the trail from the fur fort as +fast as sharp spurs could drive their eager beasts. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THE EYES OF THE HILLS + + +The thunder roared without intermission. It rose and fell, that was +all. From a truculent piano it leapt to a titanic crescendo only to +find relief again in a fierce growling dissatisfaction. It seemed less +of an elemental war than a physical attack upon a shuddering earth. +The electric fires rifting the darkness of this out-world night were +beyond compare in their terror. The radiance of sunlight might well +have been less than the blaze of a rush candle before the staggering +brilliancy. It was wild, wild and fearsome. It was vicious and utterly +terrifying. + +Below the quaking earth was in little better case. Only was the scene +here in closer touch with human understanding. Here the terror was of +earth, here disaster was of human making. Here the rack of heart was +in destruction by wanton fire. Shrieking, hissing, crackling, only +insignificant by comparison with the war of the greater elements, +flames licked up and devoured with ravening appetites the tinder-like +structures of Joan's farm. + +The girl was standing in the open. A confined enough open space almost +completely surrounded by fire. Before her were the blazing farm +buildings, behind her was the raging furnace that once had been her +home. And on one side of her the flames commingled so as to be +impassable. Her head was bowed and her eyes were closed, her hands +were pressed tight over her ears in a vain attempt to shut out +cognizance of the terror that reigned about and above her. She stood +thus despairing. She was afraid, terribly afraid. + +Beside her was her aunt, that strange creature whose brain had +always risen superior to the sufferings of the human body. Now +she was crushed to earth in mute submission to the powers which +overwhelmed her. She lay huddled upon the ground utterly lost to all +consciousness. Terror had mercifully saved her from a contemplation of +those things which had inspired it. + +These two were alone. The other woman had gone, fled at the first +coming of that dreaded fiend--fire. And those others, those wretched, +besotted creatures whose mischief had brought about this wanton +destruction, they too had fled. But their flight was in answer to the +wrathful voice of the heavens which they feared and dreaded above all +things in the wild world to which they belonged. + +Alone, helpless, almost nerveless, Joan waited that end which she felt +could not long be delayed. She did not know, she could not understand. +On every hand was a threat so terrible that in her weakness she +believed that life could not long last. The din in the heavens, the +torturing heat so fierce and painful. The glare of light which +penetrated even her closed eyelids, the choking gasps of smoke-laden, +scorching air with which she struggled. Death itself must come, nor +could it be far from her now. + +The wind rushed madly down from the hilltops. It swept over forest and +plain, it howled through canyon and crevasse in its eager haste to +reach the centre of the battle of elements. It pounced upon the +blinding smoke-cloud and swept it from its path and plunged to the +heart of the conflagration with a shriek and roar of cruel delight. +One breath, like the breath of a tornado, and its boisterous lungs +had sent its mischief broadcast in the flash of an eye. With a howl of +delight it tore out the blazing roof of the house, and, lifting it +bodily, hurled it like a molten meteor against the dark walls of the +adjacent pine forest. + +Joan saw nothing of this, she understood nothing. She was blind and +deaf to every added terror. All she felt, all she understood was +storm, storm, always storm. Her poor weary brain was reeling, her +heart was faint with terror. She was alive, she was conscious, but she +might well have been neither in the paralysis that held her. It meant +no more that that avalanche of fire, hurled amidst the resinous woods, +had suddenly brought into existence the greatest earthly terror that +could visit the mountain world; it meant no more to her that an added +roar of wind could create a greater peril; it meant no more to her +that, in a moment, the whole world about her would be in a blaze so +that the burning sacrifice should be complete. Nothing could possibly +mean more to her, for she was at the limit of human endurance. + +But other eyes, other brains were alive to all these things, eyes and +minds trained by a knowledge which only that mountain world could +teach. To them the significance was all absorbing. To them this new +terror was a thousandfold more appalling than all other storm and +tempest. With the forest afire there was safety for neither human nor +beast. With that forest afire flight was well-nigh impossible. With +that forest afire to save any living creature would be well-nigh a +miracle, and miracles had no place in their thoughts. + +Yet those eyes, so watchful, remained unchanged. Those straining +brains only strained the harder. Those eager hearts knew no flinching +from their purpose, and if they quailed it was merely at the natural +dread for those whom they were seeking to succor. + +Even in face of the added peril their purpose remained. The heavens +might roar their thunders, the lightnings might blind their staring +eyes, the howling gale might strew their path with every obstruction, +nothing could change them, nothing could stop them but death itself. + +So with horses a-lather they swept along. Their blood-stained spurs +told their tale of invincible determination. These two men no longer +sat in their saddles, they were leaning far out of them over their +racing horses' necks, urging them and easing them by every trick in a +horseman's understanding. They were making a trail which soon they +knew would be a path of fire. They knew that with every stride of the +stalwart creatures under them they were possibly cutting off the last +hope of a retreat to safety. They knew, none better, that once amidst +that furnace which lay directly ahead it was something worse than an +even chance of life. + +Buck wiped the dripping sweat out of his eyes that he might get a +clearer view. The blaze of lightning was of no use to him. It only +helped to make obscure that which the earthly fires were struggling to +reveal. The Padre's horse was abreast of his saddle. The sturdy brute +was leaving Caesar to make the pace while she doggedly pursued. + +"We'll make it yet!" shouted Buck, over his shoulder, amidst the roar +of thunder. + +The Padre made no attempt at response. He deemed it useless. + +Buck slashed Caesar's flanks with ruthless force. + +The blazing farm was just ahead, as was also the roaring fire of the +forest. It was the latter on which both men were concentrating their +attention. For the moment its path lay eastward, away to the right of +the trail. But this they knew was merely the howling force of the +wind. With a shift of direction by half a point and the gale would +drive it straight down the trail they were on. + +The trail bent away to the left. And as they swung past the turn Buck +again shouted. + +"Now for it!" + +He dashed his spurs again at the flanks of his horse, and the great +beast stretched out for a final burst across the bridge over the +narrow creek. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +FROM OUT OF THE ABYSS + + +Joan swayed where she stood. She stumbled and fell; and the fall went +on, and on, and on. It seemed to her that she was rushing down through +endless space toward terrors beyond all believing. It seemed to her +that a terrific wind was beating on her, and driving her downward +toward a fiercely storm-swept ocean, whose black, hideous waves were +ever reaching up to engulf her. + +She cried out. She knew she cried out, and she knew she cried out in +vain. Some one, it seemed to her, was far, far up above her, watching, +seeking to aid her, but powerless to respond to her heart-broken +cries. Still she called, and she knew she must go on calling, till the +dark seas below drowned the voice in her throat. + +Now shadows arose about her, mocking, cruel shadows. They were +definite figures, but she could not give them definite form in her +mind. She reached out toward them, clutching vainly at fluttering +shapes, but ever missing them in her headlong career. She sped on, +buffeted and hurtling, and torn; on, on, making that hideous journey +through space. + +Her despairing thoughts flashed at lightning speed through her +whirling brain. Faster they came, faster and faster, till she had no +time to recognize, no power to hold them. She could see them, yes, she +could literally see them sweep by, vanishing like shadows in that +black space of terror. + +Then came a sudden accession of sharp stabbing pain. It seemed to tick +through her body as might a clock, and each stab came as with the sway +of the pendulum, and with a regularity that was exquisite torture. The +stabs of pain came quicker, the pendulum was working faster. Faster +and faster it swung, and so the torture was ever increasing. Now the +pain was in her head, her eyes, her ears, her brain. The agony was +excruciating. Her head was bursting. She cried louder and louder, and, +with every cry, the pain increased until she felt she was going mad. +Then suddenly the pendulum stopped swinging and her cries and her +agony ceased, and all was still, silent and dark. + +It might have been a moment, or it might have been ages. Suddenly this +wonderful peace was disturbed. It was as though she had just awakened +from a deep refreshing sleep in some strange, unfamiliar world. The +darkness remained, but it was the darkness of peace. The beating wind +had gone, and she only heard it sighing afar off. She was calling +again, but no longer in despair. She was calling to that some one far +above her with the certain knowledge that she would be answered. The +darkness was passing, too. Yes, and she was no longer falling, but +soaring up, up, winging her way above, without effort, without pain. + +The savage waves were receding, their voices had died to a low murmur, +like the voice of a still, summer sea on a low foreshore. Now, too, +between every cry she waited for that answer which she knew must be +forthcoming. It was some man's voice she was awaiting, some man, +whose name ever eluded her searching brain. She strained to hear till +the pulses of her ear-drums throbbed, for she knew when she heard the +voice she would recognize the speaker. + +Hark, there it was, far, far away. Yes, she could hear it, but how far +she must have fallen. There it was again. It was louder, and--nearer. +Again and again it came. It was quite plain. It was a voice that set +her brain and heart afire with longing. It was a voice she loved more +than all the world. Hark! What was that it said? Yes, there it was +again. + +"Pore little gal, pore little Joan." + +Now she knew, and a flood of thankfulness welled up in her heart. A +great love thrilled through her veins, and tears flooded her eyes, +tears of thankfulness and joy. Tears for herself, for him, for all the +world. It was Buck's voice full of pity and a tender love. + +In a moment she was awake. She knew she was awake to a sort of dazed +consciousness, because instantly her brain was flooded with all the +horror of memory. Memory of the storm, the fire, of the devastation of +her home. + +For long minutes she had no understanding of anything else. She was +consumed by the tortures of that memory. Yes, it was still storming, +she could hear the howling of the wind, the roar of thunder, and the +hiss and crackling of fire. Where was she? Ah, she knew. She was +outside, with the fire before and behind her. And her aunt was at her +side. She reached out a hand to reassure herself, and touched +something soft and warm. But what was that? Surely it was Buck's voice +again? + +"Thank God, little gal, I tho't you was sure dead." + +In desperate haste she struggled to rise to her feet, but everything +seemed to rock and sway under her. And then, as Buck spoke again, she +abandoned her efforts. + +"Quiet, little gal, lie you still, or I can't hold you. You're dead +safe fer the moment. I've got you. We're tryin' to git out o' this +hell, Caesar an' me. An' Caesar's sure doin' his best. Don't you worrit. +The Padre's behind, an' he's got your auntie safe." + +Joan's mind had suddenly become quite clear. There was no longer any +doubt in it. Now she understood where she was. Buck had come to save +her. She was in his arms, on Caesar's back--and she knew she would be +saved. + +With an effort she opened her eyes and found herself looking into the +dark face of the man she loved, and a great sigh of contentment +escaped her. She closed them again, but it was only to open them +almost immediately. Again she remembered, and looked about her. + +Everywhere was the lurid glow of fire, and she became aware of intense +heat. Above her head was the roar of tempest, and the vivid, hellish +light of the storm. Buck had called it "hell." + +"The whole world seems to be afire," she said suddenly. + +Buck looked down into her pale face. + +"Well nigh," he said. Then he added, "Yes, it's afire, sure. It's +afire that bad the Almighty alone guesses if we'll git out." + +But his doubt inspired no apprehension. Somehow Joan's confidence was +the effect of his strong supporting arm. + +She stirred again in his arms. But it was very gently. + +"Buck," she said, "let me sit up. It will ease you--and help poor +Caesar. I'm--I'm not afraid now." + +Buck gave a deep-throated laugh. He felt he wanted to laugh, now he +was sure that Joan was alive. + +"You don't need. Say, you don't weigh nuthin'. An' Caesar, why, Caesar's +mighty proud I'm lettin' him carry you." + +But the girl had her way, and, in a moment, was sitting up with one +arm about the man's broad shoulders. It brought her face near to his, +and Buck bent his head toward her, and kissed the wonderful ripe lips +so temptingly adjacent. + +For a moment Joan abandoned herself to the joy of that kiss. Then the +rhythmic sway of Caesar's body under her reminded her that there were +other things. She wanted to ask Buck how they had known and come to +her help. She wanted to ask a dozen woman's questions. But she +refrained. Buck had spoken of "hell," and she gazed about her seeking +the reason of his doubt. + +In a few minutes she was aware of it all. In a few minutes she +realized that he had well named the country through which they were +riding. In a few minutes she knew that it was a race for life, and +that their hope was in the great heart of Caesar. + +Far as the eye could see in that ruddy light, tortured and distorted +by the flashes of storm above, was an ocean of fire spread out. The +crowning billows of smoke, like titanic foam-crests, rolled away +upward and onward before them. They, too, were ruddy-tinted by the +reflection from below. They crowded in every direction. They swept +along abreast of them, they rose up behind them, and the distance was +lost in their choking midst. The scorching air was laden to +suffocation by the odors of burning resin. She knew they were on a +trail, a narrow, confined trail, which was lined by unburnt woods. And +the marvel of it filled her. + +"These woods are untouched," she said. + +Again Buck laughed. It was a grim laugh which had no mirth, but yet +was it dashed by a wonderful recklessness. + +"So far," he said. Then he added, with a quick look up at the belching +smoke, "If they weren't I don't guess we'd be here now. Say, it's +God's mercy sure this trail heads from the farm southeast. Further on +it swings away at a fork. One trail goes due east, an' the other +sou'west. One of 'em's sure cut by the fire. An' the other--wal, it's +a gamble with luck." + +"It's the only way out?" The girl's eyes were wide with her question +and the knowledge of the meaning of a reply in the affirmative. + +"That's so." + +"We're like--rats in a trap." + +A sharp oath escaped the man's lips. + +"We ain't beat yet," he cried fiercely. + +The reply was the heart of the man speaking. Joan understood it. And +from it she understood more. She understood the actual peril in the +midst of which they were. + +There was nothing more to be said. Buck's whole attention was upon the +billows of smoke and the lurid reflections thereon. The thunders above +them, the blinding lightnings, left him undisturbed. The wind, the +smoke and the fire were his only concern now. Already, ahead, he could +see in the vague light where the trail gave to the left. Beyond that +was the fork. + +Joan gave no thought to these things. She had no right understanding +of how best they could be served. She was studying the face of the +man, the dark, brave face that was now her whole world. She was aware +of the horseman behind, with his burden, she was aware of the horrors +surrounding them, but the face of the man held her, held her without a +qualm of fear--now. If death lay before them she was in his arms. + +Buck's thoughts were far enough from death. He had snatched the woman +he loved from its very jaws, and he had no idea of yielding. There was +no comfort for him in the thought of their dying together. Living, +yes. Life was more sweet to him just then than ever it had been +before. And he meant that they two should live on, and on. + +They passed the bend and the forking trail loomed up amidst the +shadows. The crisis had come. And as they reached the vital spot Buck +took hold of the horse and reined him up. In a moment the Padre was at +his side with his inanimate burden. + +Joan stared at the still form of her relative while the men talked. + +"It's got us beat to the eastward," said Buck, without a moment's +hesitation. + +"Yes. The fire's right across the trail. It's impassable." + +The Padre's eyes were troubled. The eastward trail led to the open +plains. + +"We must make the other," Buck said sharply, gathering up his reins. + +"Yes. That means----" + +"Devil's Hill, if the fire ain't ahead of us." + +"And if it is?" Curiously enough the Padre, even, seemed to seek +guidance from Buck. + +"It sure will be if we waste time--talkin'." + +Caesar leapt at his bit in response to the sharp stroke of the spur. + +Now Buck had no thought for anything but the swift traveling fire on +his left. It was the pace of his horse against the pace at which the +gale was driving this furnace. It was the great heart of his horse +against endurance. Would it stand the test with its double burden? If +they could reach that bald, black hill, there was safety and rest. If +not--but they must reach it. They must reach it if it was the last +service he ever claimed from his faithful servant. For once in his +life the mystery of the hill afforded Buck hope and comfort. For once +it was a goal to be yearned for, and he could think of no greater +delight than to rest upon its black summit far from the reach of the +hungry flames, that now, like an invading army, were seeking by every +means to envelop him. + +Could they make it? + +A hundred thoughts and sensations were passing through the man's body +and mind. He was sub-consciously estimating Caesar's power by the gait +at which he was traveling. He was guessing at the rate of the racing +fire. He was calculating the direction of the wind to an absurd +fraction. He was observing without interest the racing of a strangely +assorted commingling of forest creatures down the trail, seeking +safety in flight from the speeding fire. He cared nothing for them. He +had no feelings of pity for anything or any one but Joan. Every hope +in his heart, every atom of power in his body, every thought was for +her well-being and ultimate safety. Oh, for the rain; oh, for such a +rain as he had seen that time before. + +But the storming heavens were dry-eyed and merciless. That freakish +phenomenon of a raging thunder-storm without the usual deluge of rain +was abroad with all its deadly danger. It was extraordinary. It was so +extraordinary that Buck was utterly at a loss. Why, why? And his +impatient questioning remained without answer. There had been every +indication of rain and yet none had come----What was that? + +Caesar suddenly seemed to sway drunkenly. He shook his head in the +manner of a horse irritated, and alarm set his ears flat back in his +head, and he stretched his neck, and, of his own accord, increased his +pace. Buck saw nothing to cause this sudden disturbance other than +that which had been with them all the time, and yet his horse's alarm +was very evident. + +A moment later occurred something still more unusual. Caesar stumbled. +He did not fall. It was a mere false step, and, as he recovered, Buck +felt the poor beast trembling under him. Was it the end of his +endurance? No. The horse was traveling even faster than before, and he +found it necessary to check the faithful creature, an attention that +quickly aroused its opposition. + +Buck's puzzled eyes lifted from his horse to the rapidly nearing fire. +It must be that Caesar must have realized its proximity, and, in his +effort to outstrip it, had brought about his own floundering. So he no +longer checked the willing creature, and the race went on at the very +limit of the horse's pace. Then, in a moment, again came that absurd +reeling and uncertainty. And Buck's added puzzlement found expression +in words, while his eyes watched closely for some definite cause. + +"Ther's suthin' amiss with Caesar," he said, with an unconcern of +manner which his words belied. + +"What do you mean?" Joan's eyes lifted to his in sudden alarm. Then +she added, "I seemed to notice something." + +"Seems like he's--drunk." Buck laughed. + +"Perhaps--the earth's shaking. I shouldn't wonder, with this--this +storm." + +"Shaking?" + +Buck echoed her word, but his mind had suddenly seized upon it with a +different thought from hers. If the earth were shaking, it would not +be with the storm above. His eyes peered ahead. Devil's Hill lay less +than a mile away, and that was where he reckoned the fire would strike +the trail. Devil's Hill. A sudden uncomfortable repulsion at the +thought of its barren dome took hold of him. For some subtle reason it +no longer became the haven to be yearned for that it had been. Rather +was it a resting-place to be sought only in extremity--if the earth +were shaking. + +His attention now became divided between the fire and Caesar. The horse +was evidently laboring. He was moving without his accustomed freedom +of gait, and yet he did not seem to be tiring. + +Half the distance to the foot of the hill had been covered. The fire +was nearing rapidly, so near indeed was it that the air was alive with +a perfect hail of glowing sparks, swept ahead of it by the terrific +wind. The scorching air was becoming unendurable, and the mental +strain made the trail seem endless, and their efforts almost hopeless. +Buck looked down at the girl's patient face. + +"It's hot--hot as hell," he said with another meaningless laugh. + +The girl read through his words and the laugh--read through them to +the thought behind them, and promptly protested. + +"Don't worry for me. I can stand--anything now." + +The added squeeze of her arm upon his shoulders set Buck's teeth +gritting. + +Suddenly he reined Caesar in. + +"I must know 'bout that--shakin'," he said. + +For a second the horse stood with heaving body. It was only a moment, +but in that moment he spread out his feet as though to save himself +from falling. Then in answer to the spur he sped on. + +"It's the earth, sure," cried Buck. And had there been another escape +he would have turned from the barren hill now rising amidst the +banking smoke-clouds ahead of him. + +"Earthquake!" said the girl. + +"Yes." + +Nothing more was said. The air scorched their flesh, and Joan was +fearful lest the falling sparks should fire her clothing. With every +passing moment Caesar was nearing their forbidding goal. The fire was +so adjacent that the roar and crackle of it shrieked in their ears, +and through the trees shone the hideous gleam of flame. It was neck +and neck, and their hope lay beneath them. Buck raked the creature's +flanks again with his spurs, and the gallant beast responded. On, on +they sped at a gait that Buck knew well could not last for long. But +with every stride the hill was coming nearer, and it almost seemed as +if Caesar understood their necessity, and his own. Once Joan looked +back. That sturdy horse of the Padre was doggedly pursuing. Step for +step he hugged his stable companion's trail, but he was far, far +behind. + +"The Padre," cried Joan. "They are a long way back." + +"God help him!" cried Buck, through clenched teeth. "I can't. To wait +fer him sure means riskin' you." + +"But----" Joan broke off and turned her face up to the canopy of smoke +driving across them. "Rain!" she cried, with a wild thrill of hope. +"Rain--and in a deluge." + +In a moment the very heavens seemed to be emptying their reservoirs. +It came, not in drops, but in streams that smote the earth, the fire, +themselves with an almost crushing force. In less than half a minute +they were drenched to the skin, and the water was pouring in streams +from their extremities. + +"We've won out," cried Buck, with a great laugh. + +"Thank God," cried Joan, as she turned her scorched face up to receive +the grateful water. + +Buck eased the laboring Caesar. + +"That fire won't travel now, an'--ther's the hill," the man nodded. + +They had steadied to a rapid gallop. The hill, as Buck indicated, was +just ahead. Joan's anxious eyes looked for the beginning of the slope. +Yes, it was there. Less than two hundred yards ahead. + +The air filled with steam as the angry fire strove to battle with its +arch-enemy. But the rain was as merciless in its onslaught as had been +the storm, and the fire itself. The latter had been given full scope +to work its mischief, and now it was being called to its account. +Heavier and heavier the deluge fell, and the miracle of its +irresistible power was in the rapid fading of the ruddy glow in the +smoke-laden atmosphere. The fire was beaten from the outset and its +retreat before the opposing element was like a panic flight. + +In five minutes Caesar was clawing his way up over the boulder-strewn +slopes of the hill, and Joan knew that, for the time at least, they +were safe. She knew, too, if the rain held for a couple of hours, the +blazing woods would be left a cold waste of charred wreckage. + + * * * * * + +But the rain did not hold. It lasted something less than a quarter of +an hour. It was like a merciful act of Providence that came at the one +moment when it could serve the fugitives. The chances had been all +against them. Buck had known it. The fire must have met them at the +foot of the hill and so barred their ultimate escape. The Padre behind +had been inevitably doomed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +THE CATACLYSM + + +Two hours later two men and a girl gazed out from the plateau of +Devil's Hill. The whole earth it seemed was a raging sea of fire. Once +more the forests were ablaze in every direction. The blistering +tongues of fire had licked up the heavy rain, and were again roaring +destruction over the land. + +Far as the eye could reach the lurid pall of smoke was spread out, +rolling upward and onward, borne upon the bosom of the gale. In its +midst, and through it, the merciless flames leapt up and up. The +booming of falling timbers, and the roar of the flames smote painfully +upon the hearts of the watchers. It was a spectacle to crush every +earthly hope. It was a sight so painful as to drive the mind of man +distracted. In all their lives these people had never imagined such a +terror. In all their lives they could never witness such again. + +They stood there silent and awed. They stood there with eyes straining +and ear-drums throbbing with the din of the battle. Their horses were +roaming at will and the still form of Aunt Mercy was at their feet. +There was no shelter. There was no hope. Only they knew that where +they stood was safety, at least, from the fire below. + +Presently Joan knelt at her aunt's side and studied her ashen features +in the ruddy light. The woman's unconsciousness had remained through +all that journey. Or was she dead? Joan could not make up her mind. + +Once, as she knelt, she reeled and nearly fell across that still body. +And when, recovering herself, she looked up at the men she saw that +they were braced, with feet apart, supporting each other. Then, in the +roar of the storm she heard Buck's voice shouting in the Padre's ear. + +"Guess--ther's more to come yet," he said with a profound +significance. + +She saw the Padre's nod, and she wondered at the fresh danger he saw +ahead. + +Buck turned and looked out over the desolate plateau with troubled +eyes. She followed his gaze. Strangely she had little fear, even with +that trouble in her lover's eyes. + +The plateau was desperately gloomy. It was hot, too, up there, +terribly hot. But Joan had no thought for that except that she +associated it with the hot wind blowing up from below. Her observation +was narrowed to a complete dependence on Buck. He was her hope, her +only hope. + +Suddenly she saw him reel. Then, in a moment, she saw that both men +were down on hands and knees, and, almost at the instant, she, +herself, was hurled flat upon the ground beside the body of her aunt. + +The earth was rocking, and now she understood more fully her lover's +trouble. Her courage slowly began to ebb. She fought against it, but +slowly a terror of that dreadful hill crept up in her heart, and she +longed to flee anywhere from it--anywhere but down into that caldron +of fire below. But the thought was impossible. Death was on every hand +beyond that hill, and the hill itself was--quaking. + +Now Buck was speaking again. + +"We'll have to git som'ere from here," he said. + +The Padre answered him-- + +"Where?" + +It was an admission of the elder man's weakness. Buck must guide. The +girl's eyes remained upon her lover's face; she was awaiting his +reply. She understood, had always known it, that all human help for +her must come from him. + +Her suspense was almost breathless. + +"There's shelter by the lake," Buck said, after a long pause. "We can +get to leeward of the rock, an'--it's near the head of that path +droppin' to the creek. The creek seems better than anywher' +else--after this." + +His manner was decided, but his words offered poor enough comfort. + +The Padre agreed, and, at once, they moved across to Joan. For the +moment the earth was still again. Its convulsive shudder had passed. +Joan struggled to her feet, but her increasing terror left her +clinging to the man she loved. The Padre silently gathered Mercy into +his arms, and the journey across the plateau began. + +But as they moved away the subterranean forces attacked again. Again +came that awful rocking, and shaking, which left them struggling for a +foothold. Twice they were driven to their knees, only to stagger on as +the convulsions lessened. It was a nightmare of nervous tension. Every +step of the journey was fraught with danger, and every moment it +seemed as though the hill must fall beneath them to a crumbling +wreckage. + +With heart-sick apprehension Joan watched the growing form of the +great rock, which formed the source of the lake, as it loomed out of +the smoke-laden dusk. It was so high, so sheer. What if it fell, +wrecked with those dreadful earth quakings? But her terror found no +voice, no protest. She would not add to the burden of these men. The +rock passed behind them, and her relief was intense as the shadow was +swallowed up again in the gloom. Then a further relief came to her as +the edge of the plateau was reached, and the Padre set his burden down +at the head of the narrow path which suggested a possible escape to +the creek below. + +She threw herself beside her aunt, and heard Buck speaking again to +his friend. + +"Stop right here with the women," he said. "I'm goin' around that +lake--seems to me we need to get a peek at it." + +Joan understood something of what he feared. She remembered the +weirdness of that suspended lake, and thought with a shudder of the +dreadful earth quakings. So she watched him go with heart well-nigh +breaking. + +Buck moved cautiously away into the gloom. He knew the lake shore +well. The evident volcanic origin of it might well answer many +questions and doubts in his mind. Its rugged shore offered almost +painful difficulties with the, now, incessant quakings below. But he +struggled on till he came to the eminence he sought. Here he took up a +position, lying on his stomach so that he had a wide view of the +surface of the wind-swept water. + +He remained for a long while watching, watching, and striving to +digest the signs he beheld. They were many, and alarming. But their +full meaning was difficult to his untutored mind. + +Here it was that the Padre ultimately found him. He had been gone so +long that the elder man's uneasiness for his safety had sent him in +search. + +"What d'you make of it, Buck?" he demanded, as he came up, his +apprehensions finding no place in his manner. + +Buck displayed no surprise. He did not even turn his head. + +"The fires are hotting. The water's nigh boiling. There's goin' to be +a mighty bust-up." + +The Padre looked out across the water. + +"There's fire around us, fire above us, and now--fire under us. We've +got to choose which we're going to face, Buck--quick." + +The Padre's voice was steady. His feelings were under perfect control. + +Buck laughed grimly. + +"Ther's fire we know, an' fire we don't. Guess we best take the fire +we know." + +They continued to gaze out across the lake in silence after that. Then +the Padre spoke again. + +"What about the horses?" he asked. + +The question seemed to trouble Buck, for he suddenly caught his +breath. But, in a moment, his answer came with decision. + +"Guess they must take their chances," he said. "Same as we have to. I +hate to leave him, but Caesar's got sense." + +"Yes." + +The Padre's eyes were fixed upon one spot on the surface of the water. +It was quite plain, even in that light, that a seething turmoil was +going on just beneath it. He pointed at the place, but went on talking +of the other things in his mind. + +"Say, you best take this pocketbook. We may get separated before the +night's out. It's half the farm money. You see--ther's no telling," he +ended up vaguely. + +For one instant Buck removed his eyes from the surface of the lake to +glance at the snow-white head of his friend. Then he reached out and +took the pocketbook. + +"Maybe Joan'll need it, anyway," he said, and thrust it in his pocket. +"We must----Say, git busy! Look!" + +Buck's quick eyes had suddenly caught sight of a fresh disturbance in +the water. Of a sudden the whole surface of the lake seemed to be +rising in a great commotion. And as he finished speaking two terrific +detonations roared up from somewhere directly beneath them. + +In an instant both men were on their feet and racing in headlong +flight for the point where they had left the women. + +"Get Joan!" shouted the Padre from behind. He was less swift of foot +than Buck. "Get Joan! I'll see to the other." + +Buck reached the girl's side. She had heard the explosions of the +underworld and stood shaking with terror. + +"We're up agin it, Joan," he cried. And before the panic-stricken girl +could reply she was in his strong young arms speeding for the downward +path, which was their only hope. + +"But the Padre! Aunt Mercy!" cried Joan, in a sudden recollection. + +"They're comin' behind. He'll see to her----God in heaven!" + +A deafening roar, a hundred times greater than the first explosions, +came from directly beneath the man's feet. The air was full of it. To +the fugitives it was as if the whole world had suddenly been riven +asunder. For one flashing moment it seemed to Buck that he had been +struck with fearful force from somewhere behind him, and as the blow +fell he was hurled headlong down the precipitous path. + +A confused, painful sense of cruel buffeting left him only +half-conscious. There was a roar in his ears like the bombardment of +unearthly artillery. It filled his brain to the exclusion of all else, +while he hugged the girl close in his arms with some instinct of +saving her, and shielding her from the cruel blows with his own body. + +Beyond that he had practically no sensation. Beyond that he had no +realization whatever. They were falling, falling, and every limb in +his body seemed to find the obstructions with deadly certainty. How +far, how long they were falling, whither the awful journey was +carrying them, these things passed from him utterly. + +Then, abruptly, all sensation ceased. The limit of endurance had been +reached. For him, at least, the battle for life seemed ended. The +greater forces might contest in bitter rage. Element might war with +element, till the whole face of the world was changed; for Providence, +in a belated mercy, had suspended animation, and spared these two poor +atoms of humanity a further witness of a conflict of forces beyond +their finite understanding. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +ALONE-- + + +"Buck! Buck!" + +Faint and small, the cry was lost in the wilderness of silence. It +died out, a heart-broken moan of despair, fading to nothingness in the +still, desolate world. + +Then came another sound. It was the crash of a falling tree. It was +louder, but it, too, could scarcely break the stillness, so silent was +the world, so desolate was it in the absence of all life. + +Day had broken. The sky was brilliant with swift-speeding clouds of +fleecy white. The great sun had lifted well above the horizon, and +already its warming rays were thirstily drinking from a sodden, +rain-drenched earth. + +The perfect calm of a summer morning reigned. Up above, high up, where +it was quite lost to the desolation below, a great wind was still +speeding on the fleecy storm-clouds, brushing them from its path and +replacing them with the frothing scud of a glorious day. But the air +had not yet regained its wonted freshness. The reek of charred timber +was everywhere. It poisoned the air, and held memory whence it would +willingly escape. + +"Oh, Buck, speak to me! Open your eyes! Oh, my love, my dear, dear +love!" + +The cry had grown in pitch. It was the cry of a woman whose whole soul +is yearning for the love which had been ruthlessly torn from her +bosom. + +Again it died away in a sob of anguish, and all was still again. Not a +sound broke the appalling quiet. Not a leaf rustled, for the world +seemed shorn of all foliage. Not a sound came from the insect world, +for even the smallest, the most minute of such life seemed to have +fled, or been destroyed. There was neither the flutter of a wing, nor +the voice of the prowling carnivora, for even the winged denizens of +the mountains and the haunting scavengers had fled in terror from such +a wilderness of desolation. + +"Buck, oh, my Buck! Speak, speak! He's dead! Oh, my God, he's dead!" + +Louder the voice came, and now in its wail was a note of hysteria. +Fear had made harsh the velvet woman's tones. Fear, and a rising +resentment against the cruel sentence that had been passed upon her. + +She crouched down, rocking herself amidst a low scrub upon which the +dead leaves still hung where the fires had scorched them. But the fire +had not actually passed over them. A wide spread of barren rock +intervened between the now skeleton woods and where the girl sat +huddled. + +In front of her lay the figure of a man, disheveled and bleeding, and +scarcely recognizable for the staunch youth who had yielded himself to +the buffets of life that the woman he loved might be spared. + +But Joan only saw the radiant young face she loved, the slim, graceful +figure so full of life and strength. He was hers. And--and death had +snatched him from her. Death had claimed him, when all that she could +ever long for seemed to be within her grasp. Death, ruthless, fierce, +hateful death had crushed out that life in its cruellest, most +merciless fashion. + +She saw nothing of the ruin which lay about her. She had no thought of +anything else, she had no thought of those others. All she knew was +that her Buck, her brave Buck, lay before her--dead. + +The girl suddenly turned her despairing eyes to the white heavens, +their deep blue depths turned to a wonderful violet of emotion. Her +wealth of golden hair hung loose about her shoulders, trailing about +her on the sodden earth, where it had fallen in the midst of the +disaster that had come upon her. Her rounded young figure was bent +like the figure of an aged woman, and the drawn lines of anguish on +her beautiful face gave her an age she did not possess. + +"Oh, he is not dead!" she cried, in a vain appeal. "Tell me he is not +dead!" she cried, to the limitless space beyond the clouds. "He is all +I have, all I have in the world. Oh, God, have mercy upon me! Have +mercy!" + +Her only reply was the stillness. The stillness as of death. She +raised her hands to her face. There were no tears. She was beyond that +poor comfort. Dry, hard sobs racked her body, and drove the rising +fever to her poor brain. + +For long moments she remained thus. + +Then, after a while, her sobs ceased and she became quite still. She +dropped her hands inertly from her face, and let them lie in her lap, +nerveless, helpless, while she gazed upon the well-loved features, so +pale under the grime and tanning of the skin. + +She sat quite still for many minutes. It almost seemed as if the power +of reason had at last left her, so colorless was her look, so +unchanging was her vacant expression. But at last she stirred. And +with her movement a strange light grew in her eyes. It was a look +bordering upon the insane, yet it was full of resolve, a desperate +resolve. Her lips were tightly compressed, and she breathed hard. + +She made no sound. There were no further lamentations. Slowly she +reached out one hand toward the beloved body. Nor was the movement a +caress. It passed across the tattered garments, through which the +painfully contused flesh peered hideously out at her. It moved with +definite purpose toward one of the gaping holsters upon the man's +waist-belt. Her hand came to a pause over the protruding butt of a +revolver. Just for a moment there was hesitation. Then it dropped upon +it and her fingers clasped the weapon firmly. She withdrew it, and in +a moment it rested in her lap. + +She gazed down upon it with straining, hopeless eyes. It was as if she +were struggling to nerve herself for that one last act of cowardice +which the despairing find so hard to resist. Then, with a deep-drawn +sigh, she raised the weapon with its muzzle ominously pointing at her +bosom. + +Again came a pause. + +Then she closed her eyes, as though fearing to witness the passing of +the daylight from her life, and her forefinger moved to embrace the +trigger. It reached its object, and its pressure tightened. + +But as it tightened, and the trigger even moved, she felt the warm +grip of a hand close over hers, and the pistol was turned from its +direction with a wrench. + +Her startled eyes abruptly opened, and her grip upon the weapon +relaxed, while a cry broke from her ashen lips. She had left the gun +in Buck's hand, and his dark eyes were gazing into hers from his bed +amongst the crushed branches of the bush amidst which he was lying. + +For long moments she stared at him almost without understanding. Then, +slowly, the color returned to her cheeks and lips, and great tears of +joy welled up into her loving eyes. + +"Buck," she murmured, as the heavy tears slowly rolled down her +cheeks, and her bosom heaved with unspeakable joy. "My--my Buck." + +For answer the man's eyes smiled. Her heaven had opened at last. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +--IN THE WILDERNESS + + +The golden sun was high in the heavens. Its splendor was pouring down +upon a gently steaming earth. But all its joyous light, all its +perfect beneficence could not undo one particle of the havoc the long +dark hours of night had wrought. + +High up on a shattered eminence, where a sea of tumbled rock marked +the face of Devil's Hill, where the great hot lake had been held +suspended, Joan and Buck gazed out upon the battle-ground of nature's +forces. + +Presently the girl's eyes came back to the face of her lover. She +could not long keep them from the face, which, such a few hours ago, +she had believed she would never behold again in life. She felt as +though he were one returned to her from the grave, and feared lest she +should wake to find his returning only a dream. + +He was a strange figure. The tattered remains of his clothing were +scarcely enough to cover his nakedness, and Joan, with loving, +unskilled hands, had lavered and dressed his wounds with portions of +her own undergarments and the waters of the creek, whither, earlier, +she had laboriously supported his enfeebled body. But Providence had +spared him an added mercy besides bringing him back to life. It seemed +a sheer miracle that his bones had been left whole. His flesh was +torn, his whole body was terribly bruised and lacerated, but that +worst of all disasters in life had been spared him, and he was left +with the painful use of every limb. + +But the thought of this miracle left the man untouched. Only did Joan +remember, and offer up her thankfulness. The man was of the wild, he +was young, life was with him, life with all its joys and sorrows, all +its shadowy possibilities, so he recked nothing of what he had +escaped. That was his way. + +While Joan's devoted eyes watched the steady light in his, staring out +so intently at the wreck of world before him, no word passed her lips. +It was as though he were the lord of their fate and she waited his +commands. + +But for long Buck had no thought for their personal concerns. He +forgot even the pains which racked his torn body, he forgot even the +regrets which the destruction he now beheld had first inspired him +with. He was marveling, he was awed at the thought of those dread +elements, those titanic forces he had witnessed at play. + +There lay the hideous skeleton picked bare to the bones. Every +semblance of the beauty lines, which, in the earth's mature +completion, it had worn, had vanished, and only mouldering remains +were left. How had it happened? What terrible, or sublime purpose, had +been achieved during that night of terror? He could not think. + +His eyes dropped to that which lay immediately before him. He was +gazing into chaotic depths of torn black rock amidst which a great +cascade of water poured out from the bowels of the earth and flowed on +to join the waters of Yellow Creek. It was the site where had hung the +suspended lake. Half the great hill had been torn away by some +terrible subterranean upheaval, which seemed to have solely occurred +on that side where the lake had been, and where the hill had +confronted the distant camp. Gone were the workings of the miners. +Gone was that great bed of auriferous soil. And in their places lay an +ocean of rock, so vast, so torn, that the power which had hurled it +broadcast was inconceivable to his staggered mind. + +For a while he contemplated the scene with thoughts struggling and +emotions stirring. Then with a sigh he looked out beyond. The valley +of the creek, that little narrow strip of open grass-land, bordered by +pine forests all its length, was gone, too. The creek was now a +wide-spread expanse of flowing water, which had swept from its path +the last vestige of the handiwork of those people who had lived upon +the banks of the original stream. + +There was not a sign of a house or log hut to be seen anywhere. Gone, +gone, swept away like the buildings of children's toy bricks. + +What of those who had dwelt where the water now flowed? Had they, too, +gone on the rushing tide? He wondered. Where had been their escape? +Maybe they had had time. And yet, somehow it seemed doubtful. The +skeleton forests stretched out on every hand to a great distance. They +backed where the camp had stood. They rose up beyond the northern +limits. To the west of the water it was the same. Had he not witnessed +the furnace upon that side? And here, here to the south would they +have faced this terrible barrier belching out its torrential waters, +perhaps amidst fire and smoke? + +He did not know. He could not think. They were gone as everything else +that indicated life was gone, and--they two were left alone in a +wilderness of stricken earth. + +He sighed again as he thought of the gracious woods which the long +centuries had built up. All Nature's wonderful labors, the patient +efforts of ages, wiped out in a few moments of her own freakish mood. +It was heart-breaking to one who had always loved the wild hills where +the all-powerful Dame's whimsies had so long run riot. + +Then as he stared out upon the steaming horizon where hills greater +and greater rose up confronting him and narrowed the limits of his +vision, he saw where the dividing line ran. He remembered suddenly +that even in her destructions Nature had still controlled. The floods +of the heavens must have been abruptly poured out at some time during +the night, or the fire would still be raging on, searching out fresh +fuel beyond those hills, traveling on on and on through the limitless +forests which lay to the north, and south, and west. + +The memory gave him fresh hope. It told him that the world was still +outside waiting to welcome them to its hostels. And so he turned at +last to the patient woman at his side. + +"It seems so a'mighty queer, little Joan," he said gently. "It +seems so a'mighty queer I can't rightly get the hang of things. +Yesterday--yesterday--why, yesterday all this," he waved an arm to +indicate the broken world about him, "was as God made it, an' now +ther's jest ruin--blank ruin that'll take all your life, and mine, an' +dozens who're comin' after us to--to build up agin. Yesterday this +camp was full of busy folk chasin' a livin' from the products Nature +had set here. Now she's wiped 'em out. Why? Yesterday a good man was +threatened by man's law, an' it looked as if that law was to suck us +all into its web an' make criminals of us. Now he's gone an' the +law'll be chased back to hunt around for its prey in places with less +danger to 'em. It's all queer--mighty queer. An' it's queerer still to +think of you an' me sittin' here puzzlin' out these things." + +"Yes." + +Joan nodded without removing her eyes from the face she loved so well. +Then after a pause she went on-- + +"You think--he's dead?" + +Buck was some time before he answered her. His grave eyes were fixed +on a spot across the water, where a break in the charred remains of +the forest revealed a sky-line of green grass. + +"How else?" he said, at last. "He was behind me with your aunt. He was +on the hill. You've scoured what remains of the plateau. Wal, he ain't +there, an' he didn't come down the path wher' we come. We ain't see +'em anyways. Yep," he went on, with a sigh, "guess the Padre's dead, +an' one o' them rocks down ther' is markin' his grave. Seems queer. He +went with her. She was the woman he had loved. They've gone together, +even though she just--hated him. He was a good man an'--he'd got grit. +He was the best man in the world an'--an' my big friend." + +His voice was husky with emotion, and something like a sob came with +his last word, and Joan's eyes filled with tears of sympathy and +regret. + +"Tell me," he went on, after a pause. "I ain't got it right. The fall +knocked you plumb out. An' then?" + +His eyes were still on the distant break of the trees. + +"I don't know what happened," Joan said wearily, spreading out her +drenched skirt to the now blazing sun. "I know I woke up quite +suddenly, feeling so cold that even my teeth were chattering. The rain +was falling like--like hailstones. It was dark, so dark, and I was +terribly afraid. I called to you, but got no answer, and--and I +thought I was alone. It was terrible. The thunder had ceased, and the +lightning was no longer playing. There was no longer any forest fire, +or--or earthquakings. All was still and black, and the rain--oh, it +was dreadful. I sat where I was, calling you at intervals. I sat on, +and on, and on, till I thought the dark would never go, that day would +never break again, and I began to think that all the world had come to +an end, and I, alone, was left. Then at last the rain stopped, and I +saw that day was breaking. But it was not until broad daylight that I +knew where I was. And then--and then I saw you lying close at my feet. +Oh, Buck, don't let me think of it any more. Don't remind me of it. It +was awful. I believed you were dead--dead. And it seemed to me that my +heart died, too. It was so dreadful that I think I--I was mad. And +then--you saved me--again." + +Buck raised a stiff arm and gently drew her toward him with a +wonderfully protecting movement. The girl yielded herself to him, and +he kissed her sweet upturned lips. + +"No, little Joan, gal. Don't you think of it. We got other things to +think of--a whole heap." + +"Yes, yes," cried the girl eagerly. "We've got life--together." + +Buck nodded with a grave smile. + +"An' we must sure keep it." + +He released her and struggled to his feet, where he stood supporting +himself by clinging to a projection of rock. + +"What do you mean, Buck? What are you going to do?" Joan demanded +anxiously, springing to her feet and shaking out her drenched skirt. + +"Do? Why, look yonder. Ther' across the water. Ther' wher' them +burnt-up woods break. See that patch o' grass on the sky-line? Look +close, an' you'll see two--somethings standin' right ther'. Wal, we +got to git near enough that way so Caesar can hear my whistle." + +"Caesar? Is--is that Caesar? Why--how----?" + +Buck nodded his head. + +"Maybe I'm guessin'. I ain't sayin'. But--wal, you can't be sure this +ways off. Y' see, Caesar has a heap o' sense, an' his saddle-bags are +loaded down with a heap o' good food. An' you're needin' that--same as +me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +LOVE'S VICTORY + + +The rightness of Buck's conjecture was proved before evening, but not +without long and painful effort. Joan was utterly weary, and the man +was reduced to such weakness and disability as, in all his life, he +had never known. + +But they faced their task with the knowledge that with every moment of +delay in procuring food their chances of escape from that land of ruin +were lessening. With food, and, consequently, with Buck's horse, +safety would be practically assured. They would then, too, be able to +prosecute a search for the man they both had learned to love so well. + +With nightfall their hopes were realized, but only at a terrible cost +to the man. So great had become his weakness and suffering that it was +Joan who was forced to make provision for the night. + +Both horses were grazing together with an unconcern that was truly +equine. Nor, when reviewed, was their escape the miracle it appeared. +At the height of the storm they had been left on the farthest confines +of the plateau of Devil's Hill, where no fire would reach them, and at +a considerable distance from the lake. Their native terror of fire +would have held them there in a state bordering on paralysis. In all +probability no power on earth could have induced them to stir from the +spot where they had been left, until the drenching rain had blotted +out the furnace raging below. This had been Buck's thought. Then, +perhaps, laboring under a fear of the quakings caused by the +subterranean fires of the hill, and their hungry stomachs crying out +for food, they had left the dreaded hill in quest of the pastures they +craved. + +The well-stocked saddle-bags, which Buck's forethought had filled for +the long trail, now provided these lonely wanderers in the wilderness +with the food they needed, the saddle-blankets and the saddles +furnished their open-air couches, and the horses, well, the horses +were there to afford them escape when the time came, and, in the +meantime, could be left to recover from the effects of the storm and +stress through which they, too, had passed. + +With the following dawn Buck's improvement was wonderful, and Joan +awoke from a deep, night-long slumber, refreshed and hopeful. An +overhauling of their supplies showed them sufficient food, used +sparingly, to last a week. And with this knowledge Buck outlined their +plans to the girl, who hung upon his every word. + +"We can't quit yet," he said, when they had broken their fast. + +The girl waited, watching his dark contemplative eyes as they looked +across the water at the diminished hill. + +"Nope," he went on. "We owe him more'n that. We must chase around, +an'--find him. We must----" + +"Yes," Joan broke in, her eyes full of eager acquiescence. "We must +not leave him--to--to--the coyotes." She shuddered. + +"No. Guess I'll git the horses." + +"You? Oh, Buck--let me. I am well and strong. It is my turn to do +something now. Your work is surely finished." + +Her pleading eyes smiled up into his, but the man shook his head with +that decision she had come to recognize and obey almost without +question. + +"Not on your life, little gal," he said, in his kindly, resolute +fashion, and Joan was left to take her woman's place in their scheme +of things. + +But she shared in the search of the hill and the woods. She shared in +the ceaseless hunt for three long, weary, heart-breaking days over a +land of desolation and loneliness. She rode at Buck's side hour after +hour on the sturdy horse that had served the Padre so faithfully, till +her body was healthily weary, and her eyes grew heavy with straining. +But she welcomed the work. For, with the tender mother eye of the +woman in her, she beheld that which gladdened her heart, and made the +hardest work a mere labor of love. Each passing day, almost with each +passing hour, she witnessed the returning vigor of the man she loved. +His recuperative powers were marvelous, and she watched his bodily +healing as though he were her own helpless offspring. + +For the rest their search was hopeless. The battling forces of a +storm-riven earth had claimed their toll to the last fraction, and +with the cunning of the miser had secreted the levy. Not a trace was +there of any human life but their own. The waters from the hill swept +the little valley, and hugged to their bosom the secrets that lay +beneath their surface. And the fall of rock held deeply buried all +that which it had embraced in its rending. The farm was utterly +destroyed, and with it had fallen victims every head of stock Joan had +possessed. The old fur fort had yielded to the fire demon, where, for +all the ages, it had resisted the havoc of storm. There was nothing +left to mark the handiwork of man, nothing but the terrible +destruction it had brought about. + +Thus it was on the fourth morning, after breaking their fast, and the +horses had been saddled, Buck once more packed the saddle-bags and +strapped them into their places behind the saddles. Joan watched him +without question. She no longer had any question for that which he +chose to ordain. + +When all was ready he lifted her into her saddle, which she rode +astride, in the manner of the prairie. She was conscious of his +strength, now returned to its full capacity. She was nothing in his +arms now, she might have been a child by the ease with which he lifted +her. He looked to her horse's bridle, he saw that she was comfortable. +Then he vaulted into Caesar's saddle with all his old agility. + +"Which way, Buck?" The girl spoke with the easy manner of one who has +little concern, but her eyes belied her words. A strange thrill was +storming in her bosom. + +"Leeson Butte," said Buck, a deep glow shining in his dark eyes. + +Joan let her horse amble beside the measured, stately walk of Caesar. +Her reins hung loose, and her beautiful eyes were shining as they +gazed out eagerly ahead. She was thrilling with a happiness that +conflicted with a strange nervousness at the naming of their +destination. She had no protest to offer, no question. It was as if +the lord of her destiny had spoken, and it was her happiness and +desire to obey. + +They rode on, and their way lay amidst the charred skeleton of a wide, +stately wood. The air was still faint with the reek of burning. There +was no darkness here beyond the blackened tree trunks, for the +brilliant summer sun lit up the glades, which, for ages, no sun's rays +had ever penetrated. The sense of ruin was passing from the minds of +these children of the wilderness. Their focus had already adapted +itself. Almost, even, their youthful eyes and hearts saw new beauties +springing up about them. It was the work of that wonderful fount of +hope, which dies so hardly in us all, and in youth never. + +At length they left the mouldering skeletons behind them, and the +gracious, waving, tawny grass of the plains opened out before their +gladdened eyes. A light breeze tempered the glorious sunlight, and set +ripples afloat upon the waving crests of the motionless rollers of a +grassy ocean. + +Buck drew his horse down to a walk beside the girl, and his look had +lost its reflection of the sadness they were leaving behind. He had no +desire now to look back. For all his life the memory of his "big +friend" would remain, for the rest his way lay directly ahead, his +life, and his--hope. + +"It's all wonderful--wonderful out here, little Joan," he said, +smiling tenderly down upon her sweet face from the superior height at +which Caesar carried him. "Seems like we're goin' to read pages of +a--fresh book. Seems like the old book's all mussed up, so we can't +learn its lessons ever again." + +Joan returned the warmth of his gaze. But she shook her head with an +assumption of wisdom. + +"It's the same book, dear, only it's a different chapter. You see the +story always goes on. It must go on--to the end. Characters drop out. +They die, or are--killed. Incidents happen, some pleasant, some--full +of sadness. But that's all part of the story, and must be. The story +always goes on to the end. You see," she added with a tender smile, +"the hero's still in the picture." + +"An' the--gal-hero." + +Joan shook her head decidedly. + +"There's no heroine to this story," she said. "You need courage to be +a heroine, and I--I have none. Do you know, Buck," she went on +seriously, "when I look back on all that's gone I realize how much my +own silly weakness has caused the trouble. If I had only had the +courage to laugh at my aunt's prophecies, my aunt's distorted +pronouncements, all this trouble would have been saved. I should never +have come to the farm. My aunt would never have found the Padre. Those +men would never have fired those woods when they burnt my farm, +and--and the gentle-hearted Padre would never have lost his life." + +It was Buck's turn to shake his head. + +"Wrong, wrong, little gal," he said with a warmth of decision. "When +you came to us--to me, an' we saw your trouble, we jest set to work to +clear a heap o' cobwebs from your mind. That was up to us, because you +were sure sufferin', and you needed help. But all we said, all we told +you not to believe, those things were sure marked out, an' you, an' +all of us had to go thro' with 'em. We can't talk away the plans o' +Providence. You jest had to come to that farm. You jest had to do all +the things you did. Maybe your auntie, in that queer way of hers, told +you the truth, maybe she saw things us others didn't jest see. Who can +tell?" + +Joan's eyes lit with a startled look as she listened to the man's +words. They made her wonder at the change in him. Had that terrible +cataclysm impressed him with a new view of the life by which he was +surrounded? It might be. Then, suddenly, a fresh thought occurred to +her. A memory rose up and confronted her, and a sudden joyous anxiety +thrilled her. + +"Do you really think that, Buck?" she cried eagerly. "Do you? Do you?" + +"Things seem changed, little gal," he said, half ruefully. "Seems to +me the past week's been years an' years long." He laughed. "Maybe I +got older. Maybe I think those things now, same as most folks think +'em--when they get older." + +But Joan was full of her own thought, and she went on eagerly, passing +his reasons by. + +"Listen, Buck, when Aunt Mercy told me all my troubles, she told me +something else. But it seemed so small by the side of those other +things, that I--that I almost forgot it. What was it? Her words? Yes, +yes, I asked her, was there no hope for me? No means by which I could +be saved from my fate? And she said that my only hope lay in finding a +love that was stronger than death. These were her words---- + +"'I loved your father with a passion nothing, no disaster could +destroy. Go you, child, and find you such a love. Go you and find a +love so strong that no disaster can kill it. And maybe life may still +have some compensations for you, maybe it will lift the curse from +your suffering shoulders. It--it is the only thing in the world that +is stronger than disaster. It is the only thing in the world that is +stronger than--death.'" + +Her words dropped to a whisper as she finished speaking, and she +waited, like a criminal awaiting sentence, for the man's judgment on +them. Her eyes were downcast, and her rounded bosom was stirring +tumultuously. What would he say? What would he think? And yet she must +have told him. Was he not the one person in the world who held her +fate in his hands? Yes, he must know all there was in her mind. And +she knew in her heart that he would understand as she wanted him to +understand. + +Buck suddenly reined Caesar in, and brought him to a standstill, +turning him about so that he looked back upon the world they were +leaving behind them forever. In silence Joan responded to his +movement, and her horse closed up against the other. + +"Guess your auntie's notions were all queer, so queer they're mighty +hard to understand," he said reflectively. "But seems to me she's hit +a big truth some way. That curse is sure lifted--sure, sure." + +He pointed at the grim outline of Devil's Hill, now fading in the +distance. + +"Look ther' yonder. Yonder's the disaster, yonder is--death. An' +we--we've sure passed through it. She's right. Our love is stronger +than disaster--stronger than death." + +Then he turned and gazed ardently into her upturned face. "Guess we +sure found that love together, little gal. An' it's ours to keep +forever an' ever. Ther' ain't no other love comin' around. I'm yours +fer jest so long as I have life, an' you--wal, you're jest my whole, +whole world." + +He leant toward her, his dark eyes shining with his great love. +Reaching out he drew her toward him, his strong, protecting arm +encircling her slim waist. + +"Say, little gal," he went on urgingly, "we're goin' right on now to +Leeson Butte. Ther's a passon ther' who can fix us right. An' when +that's done, an' ther' ain't nuthin' in the world can come between us, +why, then I sure got two mighty strong hands yearnin' to git busy +handin' you those things which can make a woman's life easy, an'--an' +happy. Will you come, little Joan? Will you sure come?" + +His eager young face was close to hers, and his deep breath fanned her +warm cheek. She gave him no verbal reply. At that moment she had no +words. But she turned toward him. And, as she turned, her lips met his +in one long, passionate kiss. He needed no other reply. She was giving +him herself. It was the soul of the woman speaking. + +Some moments later their horses were again heading for Leeson Butte. +The eyes of the girl were shining with a happiness such as she had +never known before, and Buck sat with head erect, and the light of a +great purpose in his eyes. For a while they rode thus. Then the man's +eyes twinkled with a sudden thought. For a moment he glanced at the +golden head so close beside him. Then he smiled. + +"Say, little Joan," he cried, "guess you're that gal-hero after all." + +Joan responded to his look. + +"How?" she inquired, with a heightened color. + +"Why, jest git a look at me. Me! You're goin' to marry me! I'd sure +say you've a heap more grit than any gal-hero I've heard tell of." + +Joan surveyed his unkempt figure,--the torn clothing, his unshaven +face; the bandages made of her own undergarments, which he still +wore,--and the happy smile on her young face broadened. + +"Well, you see, Buck, dear," she said joyously, "you can't be a proper +hero if you don't carry the scars of battle on you." She sighed +contentedly. "No, I'm afraid it doesn't need much 'grit' to marry +you." + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; +otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's +words and intent. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Woman, by Ridgwell Cullum + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WOMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 29628.txt or 29628.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/6/2/29628/ + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +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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