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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/31687-8.txt b/31687-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..46b941d --- /dev/null +++ b/31687-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6507 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Stories of the Foot-hills, by Margaret Collier Graham + +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: Stories of the Foot-hills + +Author: Margaret Collier Graham + +Release Date: March 18, 2010 [EBook #31687] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES OF THE FOOT-HILLS *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.fadedpage.com + + + + + + + + + + STORIES OF THE FOOT-HILLS + + BY MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY + + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + + 1895 + + Copyright, 1895, + + BY MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM. + + _All rights reserved._ + + _The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._ + + Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + THE WITHROW WATER RIGHT 1 + + ALEX RANDALL'S CONVERSION 114 + + IDY 134 + + THE COMPLICITY OF ENOCH EMBODY 189 + + EM 212 + + COLONEL BOB JARVIS 231 + + BRICE 245 + + + + +STORIES OF THE FOOT-HILLS. + + + + +THE WITHROW WATER RIGHT. + + +I. + +Lysander Sproul, driving his dun-colored mules leisurely toward the +mesa, looked back now and then at the winery which crowned its low hill +like a bit of fortification. + +"If I'd really had any idee o' gettin' ahead o' him," he reflected, "or +circumventin' him an inch, I reckon I'd been more civil; it's no more 'n +fair to be civil to a man when you're gettin' the best of 'im; but I +hain't. I don't s'pose Indian Pete's yaller dog, standin' ahead there in +the road ready to bark at my team like mad, has any idee of eatin' a +mule, much less two, but all the same it's a satisfaction to him to be +sassy; an' seein' he's limited in his means of entertainin' hisself, I +don't begrudge him. And the Colonel don't begrudge me. When a man has +his coat pretty well wadded with greenbacks, he can stand a good deal o' +thumpin'." + +The ascent was growing rougher and more mountainous. Lysander put on the +brake and stopped "to blow" his team. Whiffs of honey-laden air came +from the stretch of chaparral on the slope behind him. He turned on the +high spring-seat, and, dangling his long legs over the wagon-box, sent a +far-reaching, indefinite gaze across the valley. There were broad acres +of yellowing vineyard, fields of velvety young barley, orange-trees in +dark orderly ranks, and here and there a peach orchard robbed of its +leaves,--a cloud of tender maroon upon the landscape. Lysander collected +his wandering glance and fixed it upon one of the pale-green +barley-fields. + +"It's about there, I reckon. Of course the old woman'll kick; but if the +Colonel has laid out to do it he'll do it, kickin' or no kickin'. If he +can't buy her out or trade her out, he'll freeze her out. Well, well, I +ain't a-carin'; she can do as she pleases." + +The man turned and took off the brake, and the mules, without further +signal, resumed their journey. Boulders began to thicken by the +roadside. The sun went down, and the air grew heavy with the soft, +resinous mountain odors. Some one stepped from the shadow of a scraggy +buckthorn in front of the team. + +"Is that you, Sandy?" + +It was a woman's voice, but it came from a figure wearing a man's hat +and coat. Lysander stopped the mules. + +"Why, Minervy! what's up?" + +"Oh, nothin'. I just walked a ways to meet you." The woman climbed up +beside her husband. "You're later 'n I 'lowed you'd be. Something must +'a' kep' you." + +"Yes, I come around by the winery. I saw Poindexter over t' the Mission, +an' he said the old Colonel wanted to see me." + +"The old Colonel wanted to see _you_, Sandy?" The woman turned upon him +anxiously in the yellow twilight. The rakishness of her attire was +grotesquely at variance with her troubled voice and small, freckled +face. "What did he want with you?" + +"Well, he _said_ he wanted me to help him make a trade with the old +man,"--Lysander sent a short, explosive laugh through his nostrils; "an' +I told 'im I reckoned he knowed that the old woman was the old man, up +our way." + +"Oh, I'm glad you give it to 'im that way, Sandy," said the woman +earnestly, rising to her habiliments. "Mother'll be prouder 'n a peacock +of you. I hope you held your head high and sassed him right and left." +Mrs. Sproul straightened her manly back and raised her shrill, womanish +voice nervously. "Oh, I hope you told him you'd stood at the cannon's +mouth before, an' wasn't afraid to face him or any other red-handed +destroyer of his country's flag. I hope you told him that, Sandy." + +"Well, I wasn't to say brash," returned her husband slowly and +soothingly. "It wouldn't do, Minervy; it wouldn't do." Lysander uncoiled +his long braided lash and whipped off two or three spikes of the +withering, perfumed sage. "I talked up to 'im, though, middlin' +impident; but law! it didn't hurt 'im; he's got a hide like a +hypothenuse." + +Mrs. Sproul drew a long, excited breath. + +"I wish mother'd been along, Sandy; she'd 'a' told 'im a thing or two." + +Lysander was discreetly silent. The sage and greasewood ended abruptly, +and a row of leafless walnut-trees stretched their gaunt white branches +above the road. Here and there an almond-tree, lured into premature +bloom by the seductive California winter, stood like a wraith by the +roadside. They could see the cabin now. A square of flaring and fading +light marked the open doorway. The mules quickened their pace, and the +wagon rattled over the stony road. + +"Talk about increasin' the value o' this piece o' property!" the man +broke out contemptuously. "I told 'im it would take a good deal o' chin +to convince the old woman that anything would increase the value o' this +ranch o' hern, and danged if I didn't think she was right. I'd pegged +away at it two years, an' I couldn't." + +"What did he say to that, Sandy?" demanded the woman, with admiring +eagerness. + +"Say? Oh, he said the soil was good. An' I 'lowed it was,--what there +was of it; an' so was the boulders good, for boulders,--the trouble was +in the mixin'. 'Don't talk to me about your "decomposed granite,"' says +I: 'it's the granite what ain't decomposed that bothers me.' But +pshaw!"--and Lysander dropped his voice hopelessly,--"he ain't a-carin'. +I'd about as soon work the boulders as try to work him; he's harder'n +any boulder on the ranch." + +The mules turned into a narrow road, and stopped before the stable, a +shackly, semi-tropical structure, consisting of four sycamore posts and +a brush-covered roof. The lower half of the firelit doorway beyond +suddenly darkened, and there was a swift, scurrying sound among the +bushes that intervened between the house and the shed. A succession of +heads, visible even in the deepening twilight by reason of a uniform +glimmering whiteness, appeared in the barnyard. + +Mrs. Sproul ran over the number with a rapid maternal calculation. + +"Where's the baby, Sheridan?" + +"Grammuzgotim." + +Lysander climbed out of the wagon, and came around to his wife's side. + +"Shan't I h'ist you down, Minervy?" + +She gave him her hand, and stood beside him for an instant, +meditatively, after he had lifted her to the ground. + +"I guess I won't say nothin' to mother till you come in, Sandy. Be as +spry as you can with the chores. Mebbe M'lissy'll milk the cow fer you." + +She turned, and went up the walk toward the house, her mannish attire +and the glimmering white heads that encircled her faintly suggestive of +Jupiter and his attendant moons. + +The sea-breeze had died away, and the wind was blowing in cooler gusts +from the mountain; breezes laden with the aromatic sweetness of the +bay-tree and the heavy scent of the shade-loving bracken wandered from +far up the caņon into the cabin and out again, only to find themselves +profaned and sordid with the smell of frying bacon. + +A high, energetic voice was making itself heard even above the sizzle of +the meat and the voice of a crying baby. + +"What under the sun makes ye set up that yell every night jest at +supper-time? Ye ain't a-lackin' anything, as I kin see, exceptin' a +spankin', and I'm too busy to give ye that. Hark! There comes your +mammy, now. Straighten up yer face and show 'er what a good boy you've +been." + +Thus adjured, the baby brought his vocalizing to that abrupt termination +indicative of feeling not so deep-seated as to be entirely beyond +control, and scrambled toward the door on all fours, breaking in upon +the approaching planetary system, a somewhat dimmed and bedraggled +comet. Mrs. Sproul picked him up, and looked around the room +questioningly. + +"What's M'lissy doin', mother?" + +"Dawdlin'," answered the old woman, with a curtness that was eloquent, +lifting the frying-pan from the stove, and shaking it into a more +aggravated sputter. + +"Is she upstairs?" + +"I s'pose so. She gener'ly is, when there's anything doin' down." + +Mrs. Sproul put her hand over the baby's mouth and called upward, +"M'lissy!" + +There was a sound of slow moving above, plainly audible through the +unplastered ceiling, leisurely sliding steps on the stairs, and Melissa +appeared in the doorway. She was still elevated above them by two or +three steps, and leaned against the casement, looking down into the +smoke and disorder of the room with a listless, irresponsible gaze. A +tall, unformed girl, with a braid of red hair hanging across her +shoulder, and ending in a heavy, lustrous curl upon the limp folds of +her blue cotton dress. + +The baby had resumed a subdued but dismal proclamation of the grief from +which his mother's return had afforded him but a temporary relief, and +Mrs. Sproul elevated her thin, anxious voice coaxingly. + +"Lysander's late, M'lissy, and I thought mebbe you'd milk the cow fer +'im." + +"Why, yes, of course," answered the girl, with a soft, good-natured +drawl, descending the remaining steps slowly. "Where's the milk-pail, +mother?" + +"On top o' the chimbly," answered the old woman tartly, pointing with +the frying-pan to a bench in the corner. "If it'd 'a' been a snake, +it'd 'a' bit you." + +The young girl crossed the room, and the satellites surrounding Mrs. +Sproul's chair, with an erratic change of orbit, transferred themselves +to the newcomer. The older sister took a handkerchief from the pocket +of her coat. + +"You'd best tie this around your neck, M'lissy; it's gettin' chill." + +The girl accepted it carelessly, and stood in the doorway tying the bit +of faded silk about her round, white throat. + +"Where's the cow, mother?" + +"She's staked on the 'fileree, t'other side of the barn. If ye don't +find her when ye git there, come an' ask." The old woman drawled the +last three words sarcastically. + +Melissa smiled, showing a row of teeth, not small, but white and +regular. + +"Oh, if she's got away, I know where she's gone." + +"Yes, I'll bet you do. Some folks has a heap of onnecessary learnin'." + +There was no demand upon Melissa's supply of undervalued information. +The cow was mooing reproachfully in a cropped circle of musky alfilaria +behind the shed. The moon had risen, and rested for an instant upon the +edge of Cucamonga, like a silver ball rolling down the mountain-side. +Melissa laid her arms on the spotted heifer's back, and gazed at the +landscape dreamily. Not discontent, nor longing, nor vague, troublesome +aspirations mirrored themselves in the girl's placid face. Gentle, +ease-loving natures, that might show in fair relief against a delicate +background of luxury, become dull and lifeless in contrast with the +coarser tints of poverty. In the parlance of those about her, Melissa +was "dawdlin',"--and those about us are likely to be just, for they +speak from the righteous standpoint of results. + +The moon had floated high above Cucamonga,--so high that every nook and +fastness of the mountain lay revealed in her soft, nocturnal splendor; +even the tops of the mottled sycamores, far below in Sawpit Caņon, were +touched with a vague, ghostly light; and still the council that sat in +Lysander Sproul's kitchen was loud-voiced and shrill. The children, +huddled in a corner that they might whisper and giggle beyond the reach +of manual reproof, had fallen asleep, a confused heap of dejected +weariness. The baby's head hung at an alarming angle from his father's +arm, and even the acrid, high-pitched notes of his grandmother's voice +failed to disturb the sleep of bedraggled innocence. + +"So he's a-wantin' to develop the caņon, is he? Time wuz when you'd 'a' +thought that caņon wuz good enough even fer him, from the lawin' and the +lyin' and the swearin' he done to git his clutches onto it. Well, if he +wants to improve it, why don't he improve it? Nobody's goin' to hender." + +"That's what I told 'im," answered her son-in-law, taking the pipe from +his mouth, and sending a halo of blue smoke about the head of his +slumbering charge. "He said he wanted to improve the water. 'Nobody's +goin' to kick at that,' says I; 'if they do, they're fools. I think the +old lady'll tell you to go ahead. I shouldn't be s'prised, though,' says +I, 'if she'd add that the water o' Sawpit Caņon's good enough fer her +without any improvin'.'" + +Mrs. Sproul glanced at her mother triumphantly. + +"I told you Sandy talked up to him, mother. Oh, I do _wish_ you'd 'a' +wore your uniform, Sandy; then you could 'a' rose up before him +proudly, an' told 'im you'd fought the battles of your country before"-- + +"Oh, shucks, Minervy!" interrupted the old woman dejectedly; "what does +Nate Forrester care for anybody's country? What else'd he say, +Lysander?" + +"He said--well"--the man hesitated, and hitched his high shoulders a +trifle uneasily--"he swore he hated to do business with a woman." + +Spots of a deep, coppery red glowed through the tan of the old woman's +cheeks. + +"He said that, did 'e, Lysander Sproul? Then he must 'a' found some +woman hard to cheat. Nate Forrester don't hate to do business with +nobody he can cheat. The next time you see 'im, tell 'im it's mut'chal." + +"I told 'im that," answered Lysander grimly. "I told 'im he didn't hate +to do business with the hull female sect no worse than this partikiler +woman hated to do business with him; but I reckoned you wouldn't bother +'im if he wanted to go to work on the caņon,--that'd be onreasonable." + +"He hain't no notion o' doin' that," asserted the old woman +contemptuously. "Ketch him improvin' anybody else's water right. We're +nothin' to him but sticks to boil his pot. What's he up to now?" + +"Well," rejoined Lysander skeptically, "he _said_ he wanted to divide +that upper volunteer barley-patch into ten-acre lots and put it onto the +market. An' he b'lieved he could double the water right by tunnelin'." + +"Why don't he tunnel away, then? Nobody's a-carin'," demanded the old +woman shrilly. + +"That's what I told 'im; and he 'lowed, of course, he wasn't a-goin' to +put money into another feller's water right. An' then he figured away, +showin' me how it'd increase the value o' this piece o' property; an' I +told 'im this property was 'way up now,"--Lysander sneered +audibly,--"consider'ble higher 'n most folks wanted to go; an' then he +went to blowin' about it, braggin' up the ranch, an' tellin' what a big +thing he done when he give it to you"-- + +The old woman broke in upon him fiercely. + +"Did he say that, Lysander?" She turned, and bent upon her son-in-law a +quick, wrathful glance from under her shaggy brows; the muscles of her +weather-beaten face twitched nervously. "I'd 'a' give my right hand to +'a' heerd 'im. I'd like to have Colonel Nate Forrester try to say +anything to me about givin' anybody this ranch." She measured her words +bitingly. "I s'pose when a feller puts his pistol at yer head, and tells +you to hold up yer hands, and goes through yer pockets, if he happens to +overlook a ten-cent piece he _gives_ ye that much, does 'e? That's the +way Colonel Nate Forrester _give_ me this ranch. Loss Anjelus County +hadn't heerd o' him when I settled onto this claim, and it ain't heerd +no good of 'im sence." + +The old woman's harsh, discordant voice rose higher with her wrath. The +baby stirred uneasily in his father's arms. Even Melissa raised her +eyes,--Melissa, who sat on the lowest step of the projecting staircase, +twisting and untwisting the faded blue silk handkerchief in her lap with +a gentle, listless monotony. It was impossible to tell whether ignorance +or indifference characterized the girl, so calm, so inert, so absent was +she, sitting in the half-shadow of the dimly lighted corner, her +lustrous auburn head outlined against the sombre-hued redwood of the +wall behind her. + +There was a little hush in the room after the tempest. + +"No, that's a fact,--that's a fact. Well--then--you see--" continued +Lysander, groping for his forgotten place in the recital. "Oh, yes,--I +got up and told 'im 'Addyoce,' as if I s'posed he was through, and +started off; an' he called me back, an' 'lowed mebbe the old folks +didn't have much loose change lyin' 'round to put into water +improvements; an' I told 'im I didn't know,--I reckoned you could +mortgage the ranch. From the way he talked, he'd make you a handsome +loan on it, and jump at the chance; an' after he'd hummed and hawed a +while, he offered to give you a clear title to Flutterwheel Spring if +you'd deed 'im your int'rest in the rest o' the caņon. I told 'im it +wasn't my funeral. I'd tell you what he said, an' you could do as you +pleased." + +The old woman fixed her small, shrewd eyes on her son-in-law. + +"What else 'd he say, Lysander?" + +"Nothin' much. Wanted me to use my influence with the old man!" + +His mother-in-law gave a short, contemptuous sniff. + +"I reckon he'd like to do business with the old man. What'd you tell +'im?" + +"I told 'im I'd be sure to put my influence where it'd do the most good, +an' I 'dvised him to see you. I 'lowed him an' you'd git on peaceable as +a meetin' to 'lect a preacher,"--Lysander rubbed his gnarled hand over +his face, as if to erase a lurking grin,--"but he didn't seem anxious." + +"I reckon not. Is that all he said?" + +"'Bout all. He said it was a damned good trade." + +"Ly_san_der!" Mrs. Sproul sprang up, placing herself between her husband +and the heap of slumbering innocents in the corner. "Ly_san_der +Sproul,--and you a father! This comes of consortin' with the ungodly, +and settin' in the chair of the scorner." + +"Oh, come now, Minervy, I was only quotin'." Lysander's eye twinkled, +but he spoke contritely, with generous consideration for his wife's +condition, which was imminently delicate. + +"Oh, you're hystericky, Minervy. You'd best go to bed," observed her +mother. "You're all tuckered out with yer walk. I guess Lysander's told +all he knows, hain't you, Lysander?" + +"'Bout all,--yes. He followed me out to the wagon, and hinted something +about Poindexter wantin' help if he went to work on the tunnel, and +'lowed I'd find it handier to have a job nearder home, now that the +grape-haulin' was over. But I told 'im there was no trouble about that. +The nearder home I got, the more work I found, gener'ly. Pay was kind o' +short, but then a man must be a trifle stickin' that wouldn't do his own +work fer nothin'." + +Lysander got up and carried the baby into the adjoining room, bending +his lank form from habit rather than from necessity, as he passed +through the doorway. + +Mrs. Sproul, tearfully resentful of the charge of hysterics, +investigated the sleeping children with a view to more permanent +disposal of them for the night, a process which resulted in much +whimpering, and a limp, somnolent sense of injury on the part of the +investigated. + +"I don't take much stock in Nate Forrester's trades," said the +grandmother, elevating her voice so that Lysander could hear; "there's +some deviltry back of 'em, gener'ly; the better they look, the more I'm +afraid of 'em. I don't purtend to know what he's drivin' at now, not +bein' the prince o' darkness, but I reckon he can wait till I do." + + +II. + +The next day Melissa turned her gray eyes with a vague, kindling +interest toward the "volunteer barley-patch." Two or three points of +white gleamed upon it in the afternoon sun. She mused upon them +speculatively for awhile, and then consulted Lysander. + +"I reckon it's the survey stakes, M'lissy," he said kindly. "Forrester's +dividin' it up, as he said. I wouldn't say nothin' 'bout it to yer maw, +'f I was you; it'll only rile her up." + +Melissa looked at the field in a quiet, dispassionate way. + +"The land's his'n, ain't it, Lysander?" she asked. + +"Oh, yes, the land's his'n, an' a good part o' the caņon, too,--all but +a little that b'longs to yer maw. But the hull thing used to be hern; +quite a spell back, though." + +Lysander was hauling stones from a knoll near the house, and dumping +them on the edge of the caņon,--a leisurely process, carried on by means +of a sled, of unmistakable home manufacture, drawn by one of the +dun-colored mules. Melissa was helping him in a desultory, intermittent +fashion. There was a very friendly understanding between these two +peace-loving members of the family. + +The young girl carried two or three speckled granite boulders and +dropped them into the rude vehicle, and then sat down on the edge of it +meditatively. The dark rim of her hat made a background for her head +with its little billows of richly tinted hair. Exertion had brought a +faint transitory pink to her fair, freckled face. + +"Did Colonel Forrester steal the land and water from mother, Lysander?" +she asked, with the calm, unreasoning candor of youth. + +Lysander straightened his lank form, and then betook himself to a seat +on a neighboring boulder, evidently of the opinion that the judicial +nature of the question before him demanded a sitting posture. + +"I dunno about that, M'lissy," he said, shutting one eye and squinting +across the valley sagaciously. "The _Soo_preme Court of the State of +Californy said he didn't, an' yer maw says he did,--with regards to the +caņon, that is. The land,--well, she deeded him the land, but he sort o' +had the snap on her when she done it. You'll find, M'lissy," he added, +with a careful disavowal of prejudice, "that there's as much difference +of 'pinion about stealin' as there is about heaven." + +There was a long, serene, comfortable silence. Even the mule seemed +dreamily retrospective. Bees reveled in the honeyed wealth of the +buckthorn, and chanted their content in drowsy monotony. The upland +lavished its spicy sweetness on the still, yellow air. A gopher peered +out of its freshly made burrow with quick, wary turns of its little +head, and dropped suddenly out of sight as Melissa spoke. + +"How come mother to deed him the land, Sandy?" + +The weight of decision being lifted from Lysander's shoulders, he got up +and resumed his work, evidently esteeming a mild form of activity +admissible in purely narrative discourse. + +"Well, ye see, M'lissy, yer maw home-stidded the land and filed a claim +on the water in the caņon eight or ten years back, when neither of 'em +was worth stealin'; an' she 'lowed she done the thing up in good shape, +and had everything solid an' reg'lar, till Colonel Forrester come and +bought the Santa Elena ranch and a lot o' dry land j'inin' it, and +commenced nosin' around the caņon, an' hirin' men to overhaul the county +record; an' the fust thing you know, he filed a claim onto the water in +the caņon. Then you can guess what kind of a racket there was on hand." + +Lysander paused, and sat down on a pile of stones, shaking his head in +vague, reminiscent dismay. The young girl turned and looked at him, a +sudden gleam of recollection widening her eyes. + +"I b'lieve I remember 'bout that, Sandy," she said, with a little thrill +of animation in her voice. + +"Like enough. You was quite a chunk of a girl then. Minervy an' me was +bee-ranchin' over t' the Verdugo, that spring. The rains was late and +lodged yer maw's barley, so as 't she didn't have half a crop; an' you +know yer paw's kind o'--kind o'--easy,"--having chosen the adjective +after some hesitation, Lysander lingered over it approvingly,--"and +bein' as she was dead set on fightin' the Colonel, she mortgaged the +ranch to raise the money for the lawsuit." + +Lysander stopped again. Memories of that stormy time appeared to crowd +upon him bewilderingly. He shook his head in slow but emphatic denial of +his ability to do them dramatic justice in recital. + +There was another long silence. The noonday air seemed to pulsate, as if +the mountain were sleeping in the sun and breathing regularly. The +weeds, which the weight of the sled had crushed, gave out a fragrance of +honey and tar. A pair of humming-birds darted into the stillness in a +little tempest of shrill-voiced contention, and the mule, aroused from +dejected abstraction by the intruders, shook his tassel-like tail and +yawned humanly. + +Melissa got up and wandered toward the edge of the caņon, and Lysander, +aroused from the plentitude of his recollections by her absence, +completed his load and drove the dun-colored mule leisurely after her. + +The stones fell over the precipice, breaking into the quiet of the +depths below with a long, resounding crash that finally rippled off into +silence, and the two sat down on the side of the empty sled and rode +back to the stone-pile. + +"I've always thought," said Lysander, resuming his work and his +narrative with equal deliberation, "that there was a good deal missed by +yer maw bein' took down with inflammatory rheumatiz jest about the time +o' the trial o' that lawsuit. I dunno as it would 'a' made much +difference in the end, but it would 'a' made consider'ble as it went +along, and I think she'd 'a' rested easier if she'd 'a' had her say. Of +course they come up an' took down her testimony in writin'; but it was +shorthand, an' yer maw don't speak shorthand fer common. Well, of +course, the old Colonel got away with the jury, and then yer maw found +out that he'd bought the mortgage; an' about the time it was due he come +up here, as smooth as butter, an' offered to give her this little patch +o' boulders an' let her move the house onto it, an' give her share +'nough in the caņon to irrigate it, if she'd deed him the rest o' the +land, an' save him the trouble o' foreclosin'. So she done it. But I +don't think he enj'yed his visit, all the same. She wasn't sparin' o' +her remarks to 'im, an' I think some o' 'em must 'a' hurt his feelin's, +fer he hain't been here sence." Lysander chuckled with reminiscent +relish. + +Melissa had walked around the sled, and stood facing him, with her hands +behind her. Her slight figure in its limp blue cotton drapery had the +scarred mountain-side for a background. + +"I don't see yet as he done anything so awful mean," she protested +leniently. + +"Ner do I, M'lissy," acquiesced her brother-in-law. "But after the hull +thing was signed, sealed, and delivered,"--Lysander rested from his +labors again on the strength of these highly legal expressions,--"after +it was closed up, so to speak, it came to yer maw's ears, in some way, +that there was a mistake in the drawin' of that mortgage, an' this land +was left out of it, an' would 'a' been hern anyway; and somehow that +thing has stuck in her craw all these years, and sort o' soured her." + +Melissa mused on the problem, wide-eyed and grave. The mule seemed to +await her verdict with humble resignation. Lysander sat on the side of +the sled and looked across the valley seaward, to where Catalina was +outlined against the horizon in soft, cloud-like gray. + +"An' it was a mistake? she meant to put it in the mortgage?" queried the +girl. + +"Yes, she meant to, so far as a person can be said to mean anything when +they're a-mortgagin' their homestead; usually they're out o' their +heads. But the law don't take no 'count o' that kind o' craziness. You +can do the foolest things, M'lissy, without the court seein' a crack in +your brain; but if you happen to get mad an' put a bullet through some +good-fer-nothin' loafer, then immedjitly yer insane. That's the law, +M'lissy." + +Melissa received this exposition of her country's code with wondering, +luminous eyes. It had a wild, unreasonable sound which was a sufficient +guarantee of its correctness. The doings of authorities were liable to +be misty by reason of elevation. The fault lay in her limited vision. + +"I s'pose the law's right. An' the law said the caņon didn't belong to +mother. I think that ought to 'a' settled it. I don't see any good in it +all,--this talkin' so loud, an' scoldin', an' callin' people names. Do +you, Sandy?" + +"I hain't seen much good come of it," confessed the man reluctantly; +"but it's human to talk,--it's human, M'lissy. Some folks find it +relievin', an' it don't do any harm." + +The young girl did not assent. Deep down in her placid, peace-loving +nature was the obstinate conviction that it did a great deal of harm. +She sat down in the velvety burr-clover, clasping her hands about her +knees. + +"Is Flutterwheel Spring more 'n mother's share o' the caņon?" she +inquired. + +"Yes, I think it is. Of course I never measured the water, an' I didn't +admit it when Forrester said so; but I'd 'a' resked sayin' it was, if +anybody else'd asked me." + +"Why wouldn't you say so to him?" + +Lysander laughed, and flipped a pebble toward a gray squirrel, who gave +a little rasping, insulted bark, and whisked into his hole in high +dudgeon. + +"Well, because he ain't a-lackin' for information, an' I hain't got none +to spare, M'lissy." + +The young girl rocked herself gently in the clover. + +"I don't understand it," she said hopelessly. "It looks as if he was +tryin' to be fair, an' mother wouldn't let him. I should think she'd be +glad, even if he did used to be mean,--an' I can't see as he was any +meaner than the law 'lowed him to be. I s'pose the law's right. You went +to the war for the law, didn't you, Sandy?" + +Her companion winced. There was one thing dearer to him than his +neutrality in the family feud. + +"Mebbe I did, M'lissy,--mebbe I did," he answered, with a trifling +accession of dignity: "fer the law as I understood it. The law's all +right, but it ain't every judge nor every jury that knows what it is; +they think they do, but they're liable to be mistaken. Seems to me +they're derned liable to be mistaken!" he added, with some asperity. + +And so the paths that to Melissa's straightforward consciousness seemed +so simple and direct ended, one and all, in hopeless confusion. Even +Lysander had failed her. The foundations of human knowledge were +certainly giving way when Lysander indulged in the mysterious. + +Melissa turned and left him, walking absently up the little path that +led to the caņon. She had not noticed a speck crawling like an +overburdened insect along the winding road in the valley. Visible and +invisible by turns, as the sage-brush was sparse or high, and emerging +at last into permanent view where the wild growth came to an end and +Mrs. Withrow's "patch" began, it resolved itself, to Lysander's intent +and curious gaze, into a diminutive gray donkey, bearing a confused +burden of blankets and cooking utensils, and followed by a figure more +dejected, if possible, than the donkey himself. + +"I'll be hanged if the old man hain't showed up!" said Lysander, +dropping down on the sled, and throwing back into the pile two boulders +he held, as if to indicate a general cessation of all logical sequence +and a consequent embargo on industry. + +Evidently the old man was conscious that he "showed up" to poor +advantage, for he began prodding the donkey with a conscientious +absorption that filled that small brute with amazement, and made him +amble from one side of the road to the other, in a vain endeavor to look +around his pack and discover the reason for this unexpected turn in the +administration of affairs. + +Lysander watched their approach with an expression of amused contempt. +The traveler started, in a clumsy attempt at surprise, when he was +opposite his son-in-law, and, giving the donkey a parting whack that +sent him and his hardware onward at a literally rattling pace, turned +from the road, and sidled doggedly through the tarweed toward the +stone-pile. + +Lysander folded his arms, and surveyed him in a cool, sidelong way that +was peculiarly withering. + +"Well," he said, with a caustic downward inflection,--"well, it's you, +is it?" + +The newcomer admitted the gravity of the charge by an appealing droop of +his whole person. + +"Yes," he answered humbly, "it's me,--an' I didn't want to come. I vum I +didn't. But Forrester made me. He 'lowed you wouldn't hev no objections +to my comin'--on business." + +He braced himself on the last two words, and made a feeble effort to +look his son-in-law in the face. What he saw there was not encouraging. +It became audible in a sniff of undisguised contempt. + +"Where'd you see Forrester?" + +"At the winery. Ye see I was a-goin' over to the Duarte, an' I stopped +at the winery"-- + +"What'd you stop at the winery fer?" interrupted the younger man +savagely. + +"Why, I tole ye,--Forrester wanted to see me _on business_. I stopped to +see Forrester, Lysander. What else'd I stop fer? I was in a big hurry, +too, an' I vum I hated to stop, but I hed to. When a man like Forrester +wants to see you"-- + +"How'd you know he wanted to see you?" demanded Sproul. + +The old man gave his questioner a look of maudlin surprise. + +"Why, he tole me so hisself; how else'd I find it out? I was a-settin' +there in the winery on a kaig, an' he come an' tole me he wanted to see +me _on business_. 'Pears to me you're duller 'n common, Lysander." The +speaker began to gather courage from his own ready comprehension of +intricacies which evidently seemed to puzzle his son-in-law. "Why, +sho,--yes, Lysander, don't ye see?" he added encouragingly. + +"Oh, yes, I see,--I see," repeated Lysander sarcastically. "It's as +clear as mud. Now, look here," he added, turning upon his visitor +sternly, "you let Forrester alone. You don't know any more about +business than a hog does about holidays, an' you know it, an' Forrester +knows it. You'll put your foot in it, that's what you'll do." + +The old man looked pensively at one foot and then at the other, as if +speculating on the probable damage from such a catastrophe. + +"I'm sure I dunno," he said plaintively. "Forrester 'peared to think I +ought to come; he tole me why, but I vum I've fergot." He took off his +hat and gazed into it searchingly, as if the idea that had mysteriously +escaped from his brain might have lodged in the crown. + +Lysander fell to work with an energy born of disgust for another's +uselessness. + +"Seein' I'm here, I reckon nobody'll objeck to my payin' my respecks to +the old woman," continued the newcomer, glancing from the crown of his +hat to Lysander's impassive face with covert inquiry. + +"I guess if you c'n stand it, the rest of us'll have to," sneered his +son-in-law. "I've advised you over 'n' over again to steer clear of the +old woman; but there's no law agen a man courtin' his own wife, even if +she don't give 'im much encouragement." + +The old man put on his hat, and shuffled uneasily toward the house. +Lysander stopped his work, and looked after him with a whimsical, +irreverent grimace. + +"You're a nice old customer, you are; an' Forrester's 'nother. I wish to +the livin' gracious the old woman'd send you a-kitin'; but she won't; +she'll bark at you all day, but she won't bite. Women's queer." + +Mrs. Withrow was engaged in what she called "workin' the bread into the +pans." She received her dejected spouse with a snort of disapproval. + +"When the donkey come a-clatterin' up to the door, I knowed there was +another follerin'," she said acridly. "Come in an' set down. I s'pose +you're tired: you mostly are." + +The old man sidled sheepishly into the room and seated himself, and his +wife turned her back upon him and fell to kneading vigorously a mass of +dough that lay puffing and writhing on the floured end of a pine table. + +"I jess come on Forrester's 'count," he began haltingly: "that is, he +didn't want me to come, but I wasn't goin' to do what Forrester said. I +ain't a-carin' fer Forrester. I wasn't goin' to take a trip 'way up here +jess because he wanted me to, so I didn't. I"-- + +"Shut up!" said his wife savagely, without turning her head. + +The visitor obeyed, evidently somewhat relieved to escape even thus +ignominiously from the bog into which his loquacity was leading him. + +The old woman thumped and pounded the mass of dough until the small +tenement shook. Then, after much shaping and some crowding, she +consigned her six rather corpulent loaves to "the pans," and turned on +her nominal lord. + +He had fallen asleep, with his head dropped forward on his breast: his +hat had fallen off, and lay in his lap in a receptive attitude, as if +expecting that the head would presently drop into it. + +Mrs. Withrow gave him a withering glance. + +"Forrester sent you, did 'e? You miser'ble old jelly-fish! You're a nice +match fer Forrester, you are!" + +She pushed her loaves angrily under the stove, to the discomfiture of +the cat, who, being thus rudely disturbed, yawned and stretched, and +curved its back to the limit of spinal flexibility, as it rubbed against +the old woman's knees. + + +III. + +The California winter had blossomed and faded. The blaze of the poppies +on the mesa had given place to the soft, smoky tint of the sage, and +almost insensibly the cloudless summer had come on. + +Work had commenced in Sawpit Caņon. Unwillingly, and after much +wrangling, the old woman had yielded to the evident fairness of +Forrester's offer. Even in yielding, however, she had permitted herself +the luxury of defiance, and had refused to appear before a notary in the +valley to sign the deed. If it afforded her any satisfaction when that +official was driven to the door by Colonel Forrester, and entered her +kitchen, carrying his seal, and followed by an admiring and awestricken +group of children, she did not display it by the faintest tremor of her +grim countenance. She had held the end of the penholder gingerly while +she made her "mark," and it was when old Withrow had been banished from +the room, and the notary, in a bland, perfunctory way, had made her +acquainted with the contents of the document, and inquired whether she +signed the same freely and voluntarily, that she deigned to speak. + +"Did Nate Forrester tell you to ask me that?" she demanded, darting a +quick glance through the open door at the Colonel, who sat in his +road-wagon under the trailing pepper-tree, flicking the flies from his +roadster's back. "Ef he did, you tell 'im fer me that the man don't live +that kin make me do what I don't want to. An' ef he thinks the two or +three kaigs of wine he's poured into that poor, miser'ble, sozzlin' old +man o' mine has had anything to do with me signin' this deed, he's a +bigger fool than I took 'im to be, an' that's sayin' a good deal." + +And with this ample though somewhat novel declaration of freedom from +marital compulsion the notary was quite willing to consider the majesty +of the law satisfied, and proceeded to affix his seal on its imposing +star of gilded paper, a process which drew the children about him in a +rapidly narrowing circle from which he was glad to escape. + +"Damn it," he said, as he climbed into the road-wagon and tucked the +robe about his legs,--"damn it, Colonel, I thought you were popular +with the gentler sex; but there certainly seems to be a coolness between +you and the old lady," and the two men drove off, laughing as they went. + +The document they had left behind them, which made Mrs. Withrow the +owner of Flutterwheel Spring, "being the most southerly spring on the +west side of Sawpit Caņon," had lain untouched upon the table until +Lysander had taken it in charge, and it was this lofty indifference on +the part of his mother-in-law that had justified her in the frequent +boast that, "whatever she'd done, she hadn't stirred out of her tracks, +nohow." + +So at last the stillness of Sawpit Caņon was invaded. Poindexter had +come from San Gabriel Mission, and with him a young engineer from Los +Angeles,--a straight, well-made young fellow, whose blue flannel shirt +was not close enough at the collar to hide the line of white that +betokened his recent escape from civilization. There were half a dozen +workmen besides, and the muffled boom of blasting was heard all day +among the boulders. At night, the touch of a banjo and the sound of +men's voices singing floated down from the camp among the sycamores. + +This camp was a bewildering revelation to Melissa, who carried milk to +the occupants every evening. The Chinese cook, who came to meet her and +emptied her pail, trotting hither and thither, and swearing all the time +with a cheerful confidence in the purity of his pigeon English, was not +to her half so much a foreigner and an alien as was either of the two +men who occupied the engineer's tent. They raised their hats when she +appeared among the mottled trunks of the sycamores. One of them--the +younger, no doubt--sprang to help her when her foot slipped in crossing +the shallow stream, and the generous concern he manifested for her +safety, and which was to him the merest commonplace of politeness, was +to Melissa a glimpse into Paradise. + +"By Jove, she's pretty, Poindexter," he had said, as he came back and +picked up his banjo; "she has eyes like a rabbit." + +And Poindexter had added up two columns of figures and contemplated the +result some time before he asked, "Who?" + +"The milkmaid,--she of the bare feet and blue calico. I have explored +the dim recesses of her sunbonnet, and am prepared to report upon the +contents. The lass is comely." + +But Poindexter had relapsed into mathematics, and grunted an +unintelligible reply. + +Melissa heard none of this. All that she heard was the faint, distant +strum of a banjo, and a gay young voice announcing to the rocks and +fastnesses of the caņon that his love was like a red, red rose. His +love! Melissa walked along the path beside the flume in vague +bewilderment. It was his love, then, whose picture she had seen pinned +to the canvas of the tent. The lady was scantily attired, and Melissa +had a confused idea that her heightened color might arise from this +fact. She felt her own cheeks redden at the thought. + +Lysander was at work in the caņon some distance below the new tunnel, +"ditching" the water of Flutterwheel Spring to Mrs. Withrow's land. + +"That long-legged tenderfoot thinks you're purty, M'lissy," he +announced, as he smoked his pipe on the doorstep one evening. "He come +down to the ditch this afternoon to see if I could sharpen a pick fer +'em, and he asked if you was my little dotter. I told 'im no, I was your +great-grandpap," and Lysander laughed teasingly. + +Melissa was sitting on a low chair behind him, holding her newly arrived +niece in her arms. She bent over the little puckered face, her own +glowing with girlish delight. The baby stirred, and tightened its +wrinkles threateningly, and Melissa stooped to kiss the little moist +silken head. + +"I--I don't even know his name," she faltered. + +"Nor me, neither," said Lysander. "Poindexter calls him 'Sterling,' but +I don' know if it's his first name or his last. Anyway, he seems to be a +powerful singer." + +The baby broke into a faint but rapidly strengthening wail. + +"Come, now, Pareppy Rosy," said Lysander soothingly, "don't you be +jealous; your old pappy ain't a-goin' back on you as a musicianer. Give +'er to me, M'lissy." + +Melissa laid the little warm, unhappy bundle in its father's arms, and +stood in the path in front of them, looking over the valley, until the +baby's cries were hushed. + +"Was the pick much dull?" she asked, with a faint stirring of womanly +tact. + +"Oh, yes," rejoined the unsuspecting Lysander; "they get 'em awful dull +up there in the rock. I had to bring it down to the forge, an' I guess +I'll git you to take it back to 'em in the morning. I've got through +with the ditch, and I want to go to makin' basins; them orange-trees +west o' the road needs irrigatin'." + +"Yes, they're awful dry; they're curlin' a little," said the girl, with +waning interest. "I thought mebbe Mr. Poindexter done the singin'?" she +added, after a little silence. + +Her brother-in-law hesitated, and then found his way back. + +"No, I guess not; I s'pose he joins in now and then, but it's the +Easterner that leads off." + + "Jee-_ee_-rusa_lem_, my happy home!" + +Lysander threw his head back against the casement of the door, and broke +into the evening stillness with his heavy, unmanageable bass. Mrs. +Sproul came to the door to "take the baby in out of the night air;" the +air indoors being presumably a remnant of midday which had been +carefully preserved for the evening use of infants. + +The next morning Melissa carried the pick to the workmen at the tunnel. + +A fog had drifted in during the night, and was still tangled in the tops +of the sycamores. The soft, humid air was sweet with the earthy scents +of the caņon, and the curled fallen leaves of the live oaks along the +flume path were golden-brown with moisture. Beads of mist fringed the +silken fluffs of the clematis, dripping with gentle, rhythmical +insistence from the trees overhead. + +Melissa had set out at the head of a straggling procession, for the +children had clamored to go with her. + +"You can go 'long," she said, with placid good nature, "if you'll set +down when you give out, and not go taggin' on, makin' a fuss." + +In consequence of this provision various major-generals had dropped out +of the ranks, and were stationed at different points in the rear, and +only Melissa and Ulysses S. Grant were left. Even that unconquerable +hero showed signs of weakening, lagging behind to "sick" his yellow cur +into the wild-grape thickets in search of mountain lion and other +equally ambitious game. + +Melissa turned in the narrow path, and waited for him to overtake her. + +"I b'lieve you'd better wait here, 'Lyss," she said gravely. "You can go +up the bank there and pick some tunas. Look out you don't get a cactus +spine in your foot, though, for I hain't got anything to take it out +with exceptin' the pick,"--she smiled in the limp depths of her +sunbonnet,--"an' I won't have that when I come back." + +The dog, returned from the terrors of his unequal chase at the sound of +Melissa's voice, looked and winked and wagged his approval, and the two +comrades darted up the bank with mingled and highly similar yaps of +release. + +Melissa quickened her steps, following the path until she heard the +sound of voices and the ring of tools in the depths below. Then she +turned, and made her way through the underbrush down the bank. + +Suddenly she heard a loud, prolonged whistle and the sound of hurrying +feet. She stood still until the footsteps had died away. Then the sharp +report of an explosion shook the ground beneath her feet, and huge +pieces of rock came crashing through the trees about her. The girl gave +a shrill, terrified scream, and fell cowering upon the ground. Almost +before the echo had ceased, Sterling sprang through the chaparral, his +face white and his lips set. + +"My God, child, are you hurt?" he said, dropping on his knees beside +her. + +"No, I ain't hurt," she faltered, "but I was awful scared. I didn't know +you was blastin' here; I thought it was on up at the tunnel." + +"It was until this morning. We are going to put in a dam." He frowned +upon her, unable to free himself from alarm. "I did not dream of any one +being near. What brought you so far up the caņon?" + +"I brung you the pick." + +She stooped toward it, and two or three drops of blood trickled across +her hand. + +"You are hurt, see!" said Sterling anxiously. + +The girl turned back her sleeve and showed a trifling wound. + +"I must 'a' scratched it on the Spanish bayonet when I fell. It's no +difference. Nothin' struck me. Lysander's gettin' ready to irrigate; he +said if you wanted any more tools sharpened, I could fetch 'em down to +the forge." + +The young man showed a preoccupied indifference to her message. +Producing a silk handkerchief, fabulously fine in Melissa's eyes, he +bound up the injured wrist, with evident pride in his own deftness and +skill. + +"Are you quite sure you are able to walk now?" he asked kindly. + +"Why, I ain't hurt a bit; not a speck," reiterated the girl, her eyes +widening. + +Her companion's face relaxed into the suggestion of a smile. He helped +her up the bank, making way for her in the chaparral, and tearing away +the tangled ropes of the wild-grape vines. + +"Tell your father not to send you above the camp again," he said gently, +when she was safe in the path; "one of the men will go down with the +tools." + +Melissa stood beside the flume a moment, irresolute. Her sunbonnet had +fallen back a little, disclosing her rustic prettiness. + +"I'm much obliged to you," she said quaintly, exhausting her knowledge +of the amenities. "I'll send the hankecher back as soon as I can git it +washed and done up." + +The young man smiled graciously, bowed, raised his hat, and waited until +she turned to go; then he bounded down the bank, crashing his way +through the underbrush with the pick. + +None of the men below had heard the cry, and Poindexter refused to lash +himself into any retrospective excitement. + +"Confound the girl!" fumed Sterling, vexed, after the manner of men, +over the smallest waste of emotion; "why must she frighten a fellow limp +by screaming when she wasn't hurt?" + +"Possibly for the same reason that the fellow became limp before he knew +she _was_ hurt," suggested Poindexter; "or she may have thought it an +eminently ladylike thing to do; she looks like a designing creature. If +the killed and wounded are properly cared for, suppose we examine the +result of the blast." + + +IV. + +It was Saturday morning, and Lysander and Melissa were irrigating the +orange-trees. Old Withrow sat by the ditch at the corner of the orchard, +watching them with a feeble display of interest, while two or three of +the children climbed and tumbled over him as if he were some inoffensive +domestic animal. + +The old man had hung about the place longer than was his wont, filled +with a maudlin glee over his own importance as having been in some way +instrumental in the trade with Forrester; and he had followed Lysander +to the orchard this morning with a confused alcoholic idea that he ought +to be present when the water from Flutterwheel Spring was turned on +for the first time. + +"You'll git a big head," he had said to his wife, as he started,--"a +deal bigger head 'n ever. I tole Forrester I'd tell ye it was a good +trade, an' I done what I said I'd do. Forrester knowed what he was doin' +when he got me"-- + +"G'long, you old gump!" his spouse had hurled at him wrathfully, ceasing +from a vigorous wringing of the mop to grasp the handle with a gesture +that was not entirely suggestive of industry. + +The old man had put up his hand and wriggled in between Melissa and +Lysander with a cur-like movement that brought a grim smile to his +son-in-law's face, and made Melissa shrink away from him noticeably. Out +in the orchard, however, he ceased to trouble them, being content to +smoke and doze by the ditch, while the water ran in a gentle, eddying +current from one basin to another, guided now and then by Lysander's +hoe. + +The boom of the blasting could be heard up the caņon, fainter as the +afternoon sea-breeze arose, and Melissa, standing barefoot in the warm, +sandy soil, let the water swirl about her ankles as she mended the +basins, and thought of the tall young surveyor who had bound up her +wounded arm. + +"I'm a-goin' to take his hankecher to him to-morruh. Bein' it's Sunday +they won't be blastin'." + +She leaned on her hoe and looked up the caņon, where the blue of the +distant mountains showed soft and smoky among the branches of the +sycamores. + +"M'lissy!" Lysander called from the lower end of the row of +orange-trees, "hain't the ditch broke som'ers, or the water got into a +gopher-hole? There ain't no head to speak of." + +The girl turned quickly and looked about her. The water had settled into +the loose soil of the basins, and was no longer running in the furrow. +She walked across, following the main ditch to the edge of the caņon, +looking anxiously for the break. The wet sand rippled and glistened in +the bottom of the ditch, but no water was to be seen. Lysander, tired of +waiting, came striding through the tarweed, with his hoe on his +shoulder. + +"I guess it's broke furder on up the caņon, Sandy." + +Melissa stepped back, as she spoke, to let him precede her on the narrow +path, and the two walked silently beside the empty ditch. Lysander's +face gathered gloom as they went. + +"It's some deviltry, I'll bet!" he broke out, after a while. "Danged if +I don't begin to think yer maw's right!" + +Melissa did not ask in what her mother was vindicated; she had a dull +prescience of trouble. Things seemed generally to end in that way. She +turned to her poor hopeless little dream again, and kept close behind +Lysander's lank form all the way to Flutterwheel Spring. + +Alas! not to Flutterwheel Spring. Where the spray had whirled in a +fantastic spiral the day before, the moss was still wet, and the ferns +waved in happy unconsciousness of their loss; but the stream that had +flung itself from one narrow shelf of rock to another, in mad haste to +join the rush and roar of Sawpit Caņon, had utterly disappeared. + +Lysander turned to his companion, his face ashen-gray under the week-old +stubble of his beard. Neither of them spoke. The calamity lay too near +the source of things for bluster, even if Lysander had been capable of +bluster. In swift dual vision they saw the same cruel picture: the +shriveling orange-trees, the blighted harvest of figs dropping withered +from the trees, the flume dry and useless, the horse-trough empty and +warping in the sun,--all the barren hopelessness of a mountain claim +without water, familiar to both. And through it all Melissa felt rather +than imagined the bitterness of her mother's wrath. Perhaps it was this +latter rather than the real catastrophe that whitened the poor young +face, turned toward Lysander in helpless dismay. + +"Danged if I don't hate the job o' tellin' yer maw," said the man at +last, raking the dry boulders with his hoe aimlessly,--"danged if I +don't. I can't figger out who's done it, but one thing's certain,--it +beats the devil." + +Lysander made the last statement soberly, as if this vindication of his +Satanic majesty were a simple act of justice. Seeming to consider the +phenomenon explained by a free confession of his own ignorance, he +ceased his investigation, and sat down on the edge of the ditch +hopelessly. + +"Don't le' 's tell mother right away, Sandy. Paw's fell asleep, an' +he'll think you turned the water off. Mebbe if we wait it'll begin to +run again." The hopefulness of youth crept into Melissa's quivering +voice. + +Lysander shook his head dismally. + +"I'm willin' enough to hold off, M'lissy, but I hain't got much hope. +There ain't any Moses around here developin' water, that I know of. The +meracle business seems to have got into the wrong hands this time; +danged if it hain't. It gets away with me how Forrester can dry up a +spring at long range that-a-way; there ain't a track in the mud around +here bigger 'n a linnet's,--not a track. It's pure deviltry, you can bet +on that." Lysander fell back on the devil with restful inconsistency, +and fanned himself with his straw hat, curled by much similar usage into +fantastic shapelessness. + +"I don't believe he done it," said Melissa, obstinately charitable. "I +don't believe anybody done it. I believe it just happened. I don't think +folks like them care about folks like us at all, or want to pester us. I +believe they just play on things and sing,"--the color mounted to her +face, until the freckles were drowned in the red flood,--"an' laugh, an' +talk, an' act pullite, an' that's all. I don't believe Colonel Forrester +hates mother like she thinks he does at all. I think he just don't +care!" + +It was the longest speech Melissa had ever made. Her listener seemed a +trifle impressed by it. He rubbed his hair the wrong way, and distorted +his face into a purely muscular grin, as he reflected. + +"I've a mind to go and see Poindexter," Lysander announced presently. +"Poindexter's a smart man, and I b'lieve he's a square man. 'T enny +rate, it can't do any good to keep it a secret. Folks'll find it out +sooner or later. You stay here a minute, M'lissy, and I'll go on up the +caņon." + +The young girl seated herself, with her back against a ledge of rocks, +and her bare feet straight out before her. She was used to waiting for +Lysander. Their companionship antedated everything else in Melissa's +memory, and she early became aware that Lysander's "minutes" were +fractions of time with great possibilities in the way of physical +comfort hidden in the depths of their hazy indefiniteness. + +She took off her corded sunbonnet, and crossed her hands upon it in her +lap. The shifting sunlight that fell upon her through the moving leaves +of the sycamores lent a grace to the angularity of her attitude. She +closed her eyes and listened drearily to the sounds of the caņon. The +water fretting its way among the boulders below, the desultory gossip of +the moving leaves, the shrill, iterative chirp of a squirrel scolding +insistently from a neighboring cliff,--all these were familiar sounds to +Melissa, and had often brought her relief from the rasping discomfort of +family contention; but to-day she refused to be comforted. She had the +California mountaineer's worship of water, and the gurgle of the stream +among the sycamores filled her with vague rebellion. + +"Why couldn't he 'a' let us alone?" she mused resentfully. "As long as +he had a share o' the spring it didn't show any signs o' dryin' up. +Mother never said nothin' about Flutterwheel to him; it was all his +doin's. But it's no use." She dropped her hands at her sides with a +little gesture of despair. "He never done it, but mother'll always think +so. She does hate him so--so--_pizenous_." + +There was a sound of approaching footsteps, and the girl scrambled to +her feet. It was not Lysander coming at that businesslike pace. +Sterling, hurrying along the path, became conscious of her standing +there, in the rigid awkwardness of unculture, and touched his hat +lightly. + +"Your father says the spring has stopped flowing," he said, pushing +aside the ferns where the rocks were yet slimy and moss-grown. "It is +certainly very strange." + +"Yes, sir," faltered the girl, rubbing the sole of one foot on the +instep of the other. "But Lysander ain't my father; he's my +brother-'n-law; he merried my sister." + +"I beg your pardon," returned the young man absently, running his eye +along the stratum of rock in the ledge above them. "I believe he did +tell me he was not your father." + +No one had ever begged Melissa's pardon before. She meditated a while as +to the propriety of saying, "You're welcome," but gave it up, wondering +a little that polite society had made no provision for such an +emergency, and stood in awkward silence, tying and untying her +bonnet-strings. + +Sterling pursued his investigations in entire forgetfulness of her +presence, until Poindexter appeared in the path. Lysander followed, +managing, by length of stride, to keep up with the engineer's brisk +movements. + +There was much animated talk among the three men, which Melissa made no +attempt to follow. The two engineers smiled leniently at Lysander's +theory concerning Forrester, and fell into a discussion involving terms +which were incomprehensible to both their hearers. All that Melissa did +understand was the frank kindliness of the younger man's manner, and his +evident desire to allay their fears. Colonel Forrester, he assured +Lysander, was the kindest-hearted man in the world,--a piece of +information which seemed to carry more surprise than comfort to its +recipient. He would make it all right as soon as he knew of it, and they +would go down and see him at once; that is, Mr. Poindexter would go, and +he turned to Poindexter, who said, with quite as much kindliness, but a +good deal less fervor, that he was going down to Santa Elena that +evening to see the Colonel, and would mention the matter to him. + +"Don't worry yourself, Sproul," he added guardedly. "If we find out that +the work in the caņon has affected the spring, I think it will be all +right." + +"I reckon you won't be back before Monday?" said Lysander, with +interrogative ruefulness. + +"Well, hardly; but that isn't very long." + +"Folks can git purty dry in two days, 'specially temperance folks, and +some of our fam'ly 'll need somethin' to wet their whistles, for +there'll be a good deal o' talkin' done on the ranch between this and +Monday, if the water gives out." Lysander turned his back on Melissa, +who was pressing her bare foot in the soft wet earth at the bottom of +the ditch, and made an eloquent facial addition to his remarks, for the +benefit of the two men. + +Sterling looked mystified, but his companion laughed. + +"Oh, is that it? Well, turn some water from the sand-box into the old +flume and run it down to your new ditch until I get back. I presume the +ownership won't affect the taste. It isn't necessary to say anything +about it; that is, unless you think best." He looked toward Melissa +doubtfully. + +"M'lissy won't blab," returned her brother-in-law laconically. + +The young girl blushed, in the security of her sunbonnet, at the +attention which this delicately turned compliment drew upon her, and +continued to make intaglios of her bare toes in the mud of the ditch. + +It occurred to Sterling for the first time that she might represent a +personality. He went around the other two men, who had fallen into some +talk about the flume, and stood in the path beside her. + +"I have not seen you since you were up the caņon," he said kindly. "I +hope your arm did not pain you." + +Melissa shook her head without looking up. + +"It was only a scratch; it didn't even swell up. I never said nothin' +about it," she added in a lower tone. + +The young man entered into the situation with easy social grace, and +lowered his own voice. + +"You didn't want to alarm your mother"-- + +"M'lissy," interrupted Lysander, "I guess I'll go on up to the sand-box +with Mr. Poindexter and turn on some water. I wish you'd go 'long down +to the orchard and look after the basins till I git back. I won't be +gone but a minute." + +Sterling lifted his hat with a winsome smile that seemed to illuminate +the twilight of poor Melissa's wilted sunbonnet, and the three men +started up the caņon, the bay that they pushed aside on the path sending +back a sweet, spicy fragrance. + +Melissa shouldered her hoe and proceeded homeward. + +"He does act awful pullite," she mused, "an' he had on a ring: I didn't +know men folks ever wore rings. I wish I hadn't 'a' been barefooted." + +Poor Melissa! Sterling remembered nothing at all about her except a +certain unconsciously graceful turn she had given her brown ankle as she +stood pressing her bare foot in the sand. + + +V. + +On Sunday morning the Withrow establishment wore that air of inactivity +which seems in some households intended to express a mild form of piety. +Mother Withrow, it is true, had not yielded to the general weakness, and +stood at the kitchen table scraping the frying-pan in a resounding way +that might have interfered with the matin hymn of a weaker-lunged man +than Lysander. That stentorian musician seemed rather to enjoy it, as +giving him something definite to overcome vocally, and roared forth his +determination to "gather at the river" from the porch, where he sat with +his splint-bottomed chair tipped back, and his eyes closed in a seeming +ecstasy of religious fervor. + +Old Withrow sat on the step, with his chin in his hands, smoking, and +two dove-colored hounds stood, in mantel-ornament attitude, before him, +looking up with that vaguely expectant air which even a long life of +disappointment fails to erase from the canine countenance. Five or six +half-clad chickens, huddling together in the first strangeness of +maternal desertion, were drinking from an Indian mortar under the +hydrant, and mother Withrow, coming to the door to empty her dish-pan, +stood a moment looking at them. + +"That there hydrant's quit drippin' again," she said gruffly, turning +toward the old man. "Them young ones turned it on to get a drink, and +then turned it clear off. 'Pears to me they drink most o' the time. I'd +think they come by it honestly, if 't wuzn't water. If you ain't too +tired holdin' your head up with both hands, s'posin' you stir your +stumps and turn it on a drop fer them chickens." + +The old man got up with confused, vinous alacrity and started toward the +hydrant. + +"There's no need o' savin' water on this ranch," he blustered feebly, "I +kin tell you that. You'd ought to go up to the spring and see what a +good trade you made. I'm a-goin' myself by 'n' by. I knowed"-- + +He broke off abruptly, as the old woman threw the dish-water dangerously +near him. + +"If water's so plenty, some folks had ought to soak their heads," she +retorted, disappearing through the door. + +The old man regulated the hydrant somewhat unsteadily, and returned to a +seat on the porch. Lysander's musical efforts had subsided to a not very +exultant hum at the first mention of the water supply. Evidently his +reflections on that subject were not conducive to religious enthusiasm. +Old Withrow assumed a confidential attitude and touched his son-in-law +on the knee. + +"She's always so full of her prejudisms," he said, pointing toward the +kitchen door with his thumb. "Now 'f she'd go 'long o' me up to the +spring and see what a tremenjus flow o' water there is, she'd be pleased +as Punch. Now wouldn't she?" + +Lysander brought his chair to the floor with a bang that made the loose +boards of the porch rattle. + +"Come 'round the house, pap," he said anxiously. + +The hounds followed, dejected, but hopeful, as became believers in +special providence. + +When the two men were out of hearing of the kitchen, Lysander took his +father-in-law by the shoulders and shook him, as if by shaking down the +loose contents of his brain he might make room for an idea. + +"You want to shut up about the spring. It's give out,--dried up. The +blastin' and diggin' in the caņon done it, I s'pose, an' +Poindexter--that's the engineer--thinks Forrester'll make it all right; +but you don't want to be coaxin' the old woman up there, not if the +court knows herself, and you want to keep your mouth purty ginerally +shut. D' y' understand?" + +The old man's face worked in a feeble effort at comprehension. + +"Give out,--dried up? Oh, come now, Lysander," he faltered. + +"Yes, dried up, and you want to do the same. Don't you think this 'ud be +a purty good time fer you to take a trip off somer's fer your health, +pap?" + +The old man stood a moment wrestling with the hopelessness of the +situation. Besotted as he was, he could still realize the calamity that +had overtaken them: could realize it without the slightest ability to +suggest a remedy. As the direfulness of it all crept over him, something +very like anger gleamed through the blear of his faded eyes. + +"I'm a-goin' to see," he muttered sullenly, turning toward the caņon. +"Damn their blastin'! Forrester said it was a good trade. He'd ought to +know." + +A little later, Melissa started on her much dreamed of visit to the +camp. She had on her shoes now, and a comfortable sense of the +propriety of her appearance induced by this fact, and an excess of +starch in the skirt of her pink calico dress, brought a little flush of +expectation to her cheek. She had even looked longingly at her best hat +in its glory of green and purple millinery, and nothing but the absence +of any excuse to offer her mother and sister for such lavish personal +adornment had saved her from this final touch to the pathetic discord of +her attire. + +The silk handkerchief was in her pocket, properly "done up" and wrapped +in a bit of newspaper, and she had rehearsed her part in the dialogue +that a flattered imagination assured her must ensue upon its +presentation until she felt it hardly possible that she could blunder. + +"Somehow you don't feel so bashful when you're all dressed up," she +reflected, contemplating the angular obtrusiveness of her drapery with +the satisfaction that fills the soul of the average _débutante_. "You +feel so kind o' sheepish when you're barefooted and your dress is all +slimpsy." + +Poor Melissa! how could she know that yesterday, in all the limp +forlornness that had made her hang her head when Sterling spoke to her, +she had been a part of the beauty of the caņon, while to-day, in all her +pink and rigid glory, she was a garish spot of discordant color in the +landscape? How, indeed, do any of us know that we are not at our worst +in our most triumphant moments? + +The camp was well-nigh deserted, that morning. Poindexter had gone to +Santa Elena to consult his employer, and most of the workmen had +preferred the convivial joys of the Mexican saloon at San Gabriel to the +stillness of the caņon. Sterling had written a few letters after +breakfast, and then, taking his rifle from the rack, sauntered along the +little path that led from the camp to the tunnel. The Chinese cook was +dexterously slipping the feathers from a clammy fowl at the door of the +kitchen tent. + +"Hello, John," the young man called cheerfully. "What for you cook +chicken? I go catchee venison for dinner." + +The Chinaman smiled indulgently. Evidently the deer hunts of the past +had not been brilliantly successful. + +"I fly one lit' chicken," he said composedly. "He no velly big. By 'm by +you bling labbit, I fly him too." + +"Rabbit!" laughed back the hunter contemptuously, breaking his rifle and +peering into the breech to see that it was loaded. "I'll not waste a +cartridge on a rabbit, John." + +He lapsed from pigeon English with an ease that betokened a newcomer. +The Chinaman looked after him pensively. + +"Mist' Stellin' heap velly nice man," he said, with gentle +condescension; "all same he _no sabe_ shoot. By 'm by he come home, he +heap likee my little flied looster." + +He held his "little rooster" rigidly erect by its elongated legs, and +patiently picked the pin-feathers from its back. He had finished this +process, and, suspending it by one wing in an attitude of patient +suffering, was singeing it with a blazing paper, when Melissa appeared. + +"What you want, gell?" he demanded autocratically, noticing that she +carried no pail. + +"Where is the young man,--the tall one?" asked Melissa. + +"Young man? Mist' Stellin'? He take 'im gun an' go catchee labbit." + +He waved his torch in the direction of the path, and then dropped it on +the ground and stamped it out with his queerly shod foot. + +Melissa hesitated a moment. She could not risk the precious handkerchief +in the hands of the cook. No one else was visible. Two or three workmen +were sleeping in the large tent under the wild grapevine. She could hear +them breathing in loud nasal discord. It was better to go on up the +caņon, she persuaded herself with transparent logic. + +"It's purty hard walkin' when you've got your shoes on," she said, +justifying her course by its difficulties, with the touch of Puritanism +that makes the whole theological world kin, "but if I give it to him +myself I'll know he's got it." + +She glanced in at the door of the engineer's tent, as she passed. The +banjo was there, a point of dazzling light to her eyes, but otherwise +the disorder was far from elegant; resulting chiefly from that reckless +prodigality in head and foot gear which seems to be a phase of masculine +culture. + +"I don't see what they want of so many hats and shoes," commented +Melissa. "I sh'd think they could go barefooted sometimes, to rest their +feet; an' I didn't know folks' heads ever got tired." The thought +recalled her own disappointment in the matter of millinery. She put her +hand up to the broken rim of her hat. "I've a notion to take it off when +I ketch up to him," she soliloquized. "I would if my hair wasn't so +awful red." + +Old Withrow had preceded his daughter, stumbling along the flume path, +muttering sullenly. All his groundless elation had suddenly turned to +equally groundless wrath. Having allied himself in a stupid, servile way +with Forrester, he clung to the alliance and its feeble reflected glory +with all the tenacity of ignorance. There were not many connected links +of cause and effect in the old man's muddled brain, but the value of +water, for irrigating purposes only, had a firm lodgment there, along +with the advantages to be derived from friendliness with the owner of a +winery. There stirred in him a groveling desire to exonerate Forrester. + +"They're blastin', be they? Forrester never said nothin' 'bout blastin'. +He'll give it to 'em when he knows it. He'll blast 'em!" + +He staggered on past the cut-off that led to the camp, keeping well up +on the bank along the path beside the ditch that Lysander had dug from +Flutterwheel Spring. Once there, the sight of the ruin that had befallen +his plans seemed to strike him dumb for a little. The slime still clung +to the rocks, and a faint trickle of water oozed into the pool. He sat +down a moment, mumbling sullen curses, and then staggered to his feet +and wandered aimlessly up the caņon. + +Sterling had idled along, crossing and recrossing the restless stream +that appeared to be hurrying away from the quiet of the mountains. He +was really not a very enthusiastic hunter, as the Chinaman had +discovered. He liked the faint, sickening odor of the brakes and the +honey-like scent of the wild immortelles that came in little warm gusts +from the cliffs above far better than the smell of powder. He stopped +where the men had been at work the day before, and looked about with +that impartial criticism that always seems easier when nothing is being +done. + +Some idea must have suggested itself suddenly, for he hurried across to +the opening of the tunnel and went in, leaving his rifle beside the +entrance. When he turned to come out, he heard a sound of muttered +curses, and in another instant he was confronted by the barrel of a gun +in the hands of a man he had never seen,--a man with wandering, +bloodshot eyes, which the change from the half-light of the tunnel's +mouth magnified into those of an angry beast. + +"You've been a-blastin', have ye, an' a-dryin' up other folks's springs? +Damn ye, I'll blast ye!" + +The old man was striving in vain to hold the rifle steadily, and +fumbling with the lock. Sterling did not stop to note that the weapon +was his own, and might easily be thrust aside. He did what most young +men would have done--drew his revolver from his pocket and fired. + +The report echoed up and down the caņon. By the time it died away life +had changed for the younger man. Old Withrow had fallen forward, still +clutching the rifle, and was dead. + +Melissa, standing among the sycamores below, had seen it all as a +sudden, paralyzing vision. She stood still a brief, terrified instant, +and then turned and ran down the caņon, keeping in the bed of the +stream, and climbing over the boulders. + +She was conscious of nothing but a wild dismay that she had seen it. She +had a vague hope that she might run away from her own knowledge. The +swift, unreasoning notion had lodged itself in her brain that it would +be better if no one knew what had happened. Perhaps no one else need be +told. She avoided the camp, scrambling through the chaparral on the +opposite bank, and, reaching the flume path at last, hurried on +breathlessly. + +Suddenly Melissa stopped. It would not do to approach the house in that +way. She must rest a little and cool her flushed face before any one +should see her. She leaned against the timbers that supported the flume +across the gully, and fanned herself with her hat. The tumult of her +brain had not shaped itself into any plan. She only wished she had not +seen. It was such a dreadful thing to know, to tell. Insensibly she was +preparing herself to dissemble. She was cooling her cheeks, and getting +ready to saunter lazily toward the house and speak indifferently. She +did not realize that after that she could not tell. There would be an +instant in which to decide, and then a dreary stretch of dissimulation. + +At this moment she heard the quick hoofbeats of a galloping horse on +the road that led down the mountain-side. He was going away! Then +certainly she must not speak. They would never find him, and she would +keep the secret forever. She listened until the hoof-beats died away. +The flush faded out of her poor little face, leaving it wan and +hopeless. After all, it was a dreary thing for him to ride away, and +leave her nothing but a dismal secret such as this. A shred of cloud +drifted across the sun, and the caņon suddenly became a cold, cheerless +place. She stepped into the path, and came face to face with Lysander. + +"Have yuh seen anything of yer paw, M'lissy? Why, what ails yuh, child? +Y'r as white as buttermilk. Has anything bit yuh?" + +"No," faltered the girl, looking down at her wretched finery; "my shoes +'a' been a-hurtin' my feet. I'm goin' back to the house to take 'em off. +I'm tired." + +"I wish y'd set right down here and take off y'r shoes, M'lissy," said +her brother-in-law anxiously. "We'll have to kind o' watch yer paw. I +had to tell 'im about the spring, an' he struck off right away an' said +he was goin' up there. I reckoned he'd go away an' furgit it, but he +hain't come back yit. I'm afraid he'll git to talkin' when he comes back +to the house, and tell yer maw. It won't do no good, an' there ain't no +use in her workin' herself up red-headed about it,--'t enny rate not +till Poindexter comes back. We must git hold o' yer paw before he gits +to see her, and brace 'im up ag'in. If you'll set here an' call to me if +you see 'im below, I'll go on up an' look fer 'im." + +Melissa had stood quite still, looking down at the uncompromising lines +of her drapery. It was rapidly becoming a pink blur to her gaze. The +ghastliness of what she had undertaken to conceal came over her like a +chill, insweeping fog. She shivered as she spoke, trying in vain to +return Lysander's honest gaze. + +"I'll come back an' set here when I've took off my shoes. You kin go on. +I'll come in a minute." + +Lysander looked into her face an instant as he started. + +"The seam o' yer stockin' 's got over the j'int, M'lissy," he said +kindly; "it's made you sick at yer stummick; y'r as white as taller." + + +VI. + +Old Withrow entered his own house with dignity at last. + +Strangely enough, when the spiritual and presumably the better part of +us is gone, the world stands in awe of what remains. If the bleared eyes +could have opened once more, and the dead man could have known that it +was for fear of him the children were gathered in a whispering, +awestricken group at the window, that respect for him caused the +lowering of voices and baring of heads on the part of the household and +curious neighbors, he would suddenly have found the world he had left a +stranger place than any world to come. + +There was no great pretense of grief. Mother Withrow looked at the dead +face a while, supporting her elbow with one knotted hand, and grasping +her weather-beaten jaw with the other. Perhaps her silence would have +been the strangest feature of it all to him, if he could have known. If +the years hid any romance that had been theirs, and was now hers, the +old woman's face told no more of it than the flinty outside of a boulder +tells of the leaf traced within. + +"He wuzn't no great shakes of a man," she said to Minerva, "but I don't +'low to have him stood up an' shot at by any o' Nate Forrester's crowd +without puttin' the law on the man that done it." + +Lysander's attempt at concealment had melted away in the heat of the +excitement occasioned by the murder. The drying up of the spring had +been no secret in camp. The men who had carried Withrow's body to the +house had talked of it unrebuked. Mother Withrow had heard them with a +tightening of the muscles of her face and an increased angularity in her +tall figure, but she had proudly refrained from the faintest +manifestation of surprise. Nor had she asked any questions of Minerva +or Lysander. This unexpected reserve had been a great relief to the +latter, who found himself not only released from an unpleasant duty, but +saved from any reproaches for concealment. + +The coroner had come up from Los Angeles, and there had been an inquest. +Sterling had not been present, having ridden to Los Angeles to give +himself up; but the men to whom he had told the story when he came to +the camp had testified, and there had been a verdict that deceased came +to his death from a wound made by a revolver in the hands of Frederick +Sterling. + +Some of the jury still hung about the place with cumbrous attempts at +helpfulness, and Minerva moved tearfully to and fro in the kitchen, +wearing her husband's hat with a reckless assumption of masculine rights +and feminine privileges, while she set out a "bite of something" for the +coroner, who must ride back to Los Angeles in hot haste. + +Ulysses had denied himself the unwonted pleasure of listening longer to +the men's whispered talk, to follow the stranger into the kitchen and +watch him eat; his curiosity concerning the habits of that dignitary +being considerably heightened by the official's haste, which pointed +strongly to a rapid succession of murders requiring his personal +attention, and marking him as a man of dark and bloody knowledge. + +The hounds shared the boy's curiosity, and stood beside the table waving +their scroll-like tails, and watching with expectant eagerness the +unerring precision with which the stranger conveyed a knife-load of +"frijoles" from his plate to his mouth. When he had finished his repast, +gulping the last half-glass of buttermilk, and wiping the white beads +from his overhanging mustache with quick horizontal sweeps of his gayly +bordered handkerchief, he leaned back and flipped a bean at Ulysses, +whose expression of intent and curious awe changed instantly to the most +sheepish self-consciousness. The familiarity loosened his tongue, +however, and he asked, with a little explosive gasp,-- + +"Do yuh think they'll ketch 'im?" + +"Ketch who?" + +"The man that shot gran'pap." + +"They've got 'im now." + +"Hev they? How'd they ketch 'im?" + +"He gave himself up." + +"Will they hang 'im?" + +The coroner's eyes twinkled. + +"Don't you think they'd ought to?" + +"You bet!" Ulysses wagged his head with bloodthirsty vehemence. + +The great man got up, laughing, and went toward the door, rubbing the +boy's hair the wrong way as he passed him. The hounds followed +languidly, and Ulysses darted up the creaking staircase, and tumbled +into the little attic room where Melissa sat gazing drearily out of the +window. + +"They've got 'im!'" he said breathlessly. "They're a-go'n' to hang 'im!" + +The girl got up and backed toward the wall, gasping and dizzy. + +"Who said so?" she faltered. + +"The man downstairs,--the one that came from Loss Anglus." + +Melissa put the palms of her outstretched hands against the wall behind +her to steady herself. In the half-light she seemed crowding away from +some terror that confronted her. + +"I don't believe it. They won't do anything to him right away; it +wouldn't be fair. They don't know what paw done. I"-- + +Her voice broke. She looked about piteously, biting her lip and trying +to remember what she had said. + +Ulysses was not a critical listener. He had enjoyed his little +sensation, and was ready for another. From the talk downstairs he knew +that Sterling had acknowledged the killing to the men at the camp. His +excitement made him indifferent as to the source of Melissa's +information. + +"I'm go'n' to the hangin'," he said, doggedly boastful. + +Melissa looked at him vacantly. + +"How'd they find out who done it?" she asked, dropping her hands and +turning toward the window. + +"He told it hisself,--blabbed it right out to the men at the camp; then +he went on down to Loss Anglus, big as life, an' blowed about it there. +He's cheeky." + +Melissa turned on him with a flash of contempt. + +"You said they ketched him." + +The boy felt his importance as the bearer of sensational tidings ebbing +away. + +"I don't care," he replied sullenly. "They'll hang 'im, anyway: the +cor'ner said so." + +He clutched his throat with his thumbs and forefingers, thrusting out +his tongue and rolling his eyes in blood-curdling pantomime. + +His companion turned away drearily. The boy's first words had called up +a vaguely outlined picture of flight, pursuit, and capture, possibly +violence. This faded away, leaving her brain numb under its burden of +uncertainty and deceit. She had an aching consciousness of her own +ignorance. Others knew what might happen to him, but she must not even +ask. She shrank in terror from what her curiosity might betray. She must +stand idly by and wait. Perhaps Lysander would know; if she could ask +any one, she could ask Lysander. There had sprung up in her mind a +shadowy, half-formed doubt concerning the wisdom of her silence. He had +told it himself, Ulysses had said; and this had chilled the little glow +at her heart that came from a sense of their common secret. If she could +only see him and ask what he would have her do; but that was +impossible. Perhaps, if he knew she had seen it, he might say she must +tell, even if--even if-- She gave a little moan, and leaned her forehead +against the sash. Below she could hear the subdued voices of the men, +and the creaking of the kitchen floor as Minerva walked to and fro, +putting away the remnants of the coroner's repast. Already the children +were beginning to recover from their awestricken silence, and Melissa +could see them darting in and out among the fig-trees, firing pantomimic +revolvers at each other with loud vocal explosions. + +The gap that the old man's death had made in the household was very +slight indeed; not half the calamity that the drying up of the spring +had been. Melissa acknowledged this to herself with the candor peculiar +to the very wise and the very ignorant, who alone seem daring enough to +look at things as they are. + +"They hadn't ought to do anything to 'im; it ain't fair," she said to +herself stoutly; "an' he just stood up an' told on hisself because he +knowed he hadn't done anything bad. I sh'd think they'd be ashamed of +themselves to do anything to 'im after that." + +"M'lissy!" Mrs. Sproul called from the foot of the stairs, her voice +dying away in a prolonged sniffle. "I wish 't you'd come down and help +Lysander hook up the team. He's got to go down t' the Mission, and it'll +be 'way into the night before he gets back." + +The girl stood still a moment, biting her lip, and then hurried across +the floor and down the staircase as if pursued. Minerva had left the +kitchen, and there was no one to notice her unusual haste. Out at the +barn, Lysander, almost disabled by the accession of a stiff white shirt +and collar, was perspiring heavily in his haste to harness the mules. + +"Minervy's got 'er heart set on havin' the Odd Fellers conduct the +funer'l," he said apologetically. "Strikes me kind o' onnecessary, but +'t won't do no harm, I s'pose. She says yer paw was an Odd Feller 'way +back, but he ain't kep' it up. I dunno if they'll bury 'im or not." + +The girl listened to him absently, straightening the mule's long ear +which was caught in the headstall, and fastening the buckles of the +harness. Her face was hidden by her drooping sunbonnet, and Lysander +could not see its pinched, quivering whiteness. They led the mules out +of the stable and backed them toward the wagon standing under a live +oak. Melissa bent over to fasten the tugs, and asked in a voice steadied +to lifeless monotony,-- + +"Do you think they'll do anything to him for it, Lysander?" + +"I dunno, M'lissy," said the man. "He told the men at the camp it was +self-defense, and mebbe he can prove it; but bein' no witnesses, they +may lock 'im up fer a year or two, just to give 'im time to cool off. +It'll be good fer 'im. He oughtn't to be so previous with his firearms." + +"But paw was--they don't know--mebbe"--panted the girl brokenly. + +"Yes, yes, M'lissy, I don't doubt yer paw was aggravatin'; but we don't +know, and we'd better not take sides. The young feller ain't nothin' to +us, an' yer paw was--well, he was yer _paw_, we've got to remember +that." + +Lysander put his foot on the hub and mounted to the high seat, +gathering up the reins and putting on the brake. The mules started +forward, and then held back in a protesting way, and the wagon went +creaking and scraping through the sand down the mountain road. + + +VII. + +In the days that passed wearisomely enough before the trial, Melissa +heard much that did not tend to soothe her harassed little soul. +Lysander, having taken refuge behind the assertion that it "wasn't +becomin' fer the fam'ly to take sides," bore his mother-in-law's +stinging sarcasms in virtuous silence. + +"Seems to me it depends on which side you take," sneered the old woman. +"I don't see anything so very impullite in gettin' mad when yer pap's +shot down like a dog." + +Lysander braced himself judicially. + +"We don't none of us know nothin' about it," he contended. "If I'd 'a' +been there and 'a' seen the scrimmage, I'd 'a' knowed what to think. As +'tis, I dunno what to think, and there's no law that kin make you think +when you don't hev no fax to base your thinkun' on." + +"Some folks lacks other things besides fax to base their thinkun' on," +the old woman jerked out sententiously. + +Lysander pressed the tobacco into his cob pipe, and scratched a match on +the sole of his boot. + +"I think they've been middlin' fair," he said, between puffs, "fixin' up +that water business. It's my opinion the young feller's at the bottom of +it,--they say his father's well off; 't enny rate, it's _fixed_, an' +you're better off 'n you wuz,--exceptin', uv course, your affliction, +an' that can't be helped." The man composed his voice very much as he +would have straightened a corpse in which he had no personal interest. +"I'm in fer shuttin' up." + +"They don't seem to want you to shut up," fretted his mother-in-law. +"They've s'peenied _you_." + +"They're welcome to all I know; 'tain't much, an' 't won't help nor +hender, as I c'n see, but such as it is, they kin hev it an' welcome." + +Lysander stood in the doorway, with his hat on the back of his head. He +tilted it over his eyes, as he made this avowal, and sauntered toward +the stable, with his head thrown back, peering from under the brim, as +if its inconvenient position were a matter entirely beyond his control. + +Melissa was washing dishes at a table in the corner of the kitchen. She +hurried a little, trembling in her eagerness to speak to Lysander alone. +She carried the dishpan to the kitchen door to empty it, and the +chickens came scuttling with half-flying strides from the shade of the +geraniums where they were dusting themselves, and then fled with a +chorus of dismayed squawks as the dish-water splashed among them. The +girl hung the pan on a nail outside, and flung her apron over her head. +She could see Lysander's tilted hat moving among the low blue gums +beside the shed. She drew the folds of her apron forward to shade her +face, and went down the path with a studied unconcern that sat as ill +upon her as haste. Lysander was mending the cultivator; he looked up, +but not as high as her face. + +"'Llo, M'lissy," he said, as kindly as was compatible with a rusty bit +of wire between his teeth. + +The girl leaned against the shaded side of a stack of baled barley hay. + +"Lysander," she began quaveringly, "Lysander, if you'd seen paw shot, +an' knowed all about it, could they make you tell--would you think you'd +ought to tell?" She hurried her questions as they had been crowding in +her sore conscience. "I mean, of course, if you'd seen it, Lysander." + +Her brother-in-law straightened himself, and set his hat on the back of +his head without speaking. Melissa could feel him looking at her +curiously. + +"Of course, that's all I mean, Lysander,--just if you'd seen it; would +you tell?" she faltered. + +"M'lissy," said the man impressively, "if I'd seen my own paw killed, +an' nobody asked me to tell, I'd keep my mouth most piously shut; that's +what I'd do." + +"But if he was mad, Sandy, an' tried to kill somebody else, and, +oh,"--her voice broke into a piteous wail,--"if they wuz thinkun' o' +hangin' 'im!" + +"They ain't a-goin' to hang nobody, M'lissy," said Lysander +confidently,--"hangin' has gone out o' fashion. And I don't think it's +becomin' fer the fam'ly to interfere, especially the women folks; +besides, we don't none of us know nothin' about it, you see. Don't you +fret about things you don't know nothin' about. The law'll have to take +its course, M'lissy. That young feller's goin' to git off +reasonable,--very reasonable, indeed, considerin'." + +Melissa rubbed her feet in the loose straw, restless and uncomforted. + +"When's the trial, Lysander?" she asked, after a little pause, during +which her companion resumed his encounter with the rusty wire he was +straightening. + +"The trial, M'lissy, is set for tuhmorruh," Lysander replied, a trifle +oracularly. "I'm a-goin' down because they've sent fer me; if they +hadn't 'a' sent, I wouldn't 'a' gone. I don't know nothin' exceptin' +that yer paw had one of his spells,"--inebriety was always thus +decorously cloaked in Lysander's domestic conversation,--"an' went off +up the caņon that mornin' r'arin' mad about the spring. Of course they +don't know that's all I know,--if they knowed it, perhaps they wouldn't +want me; but if they hadn't sent fer me, you can bet I'd stick at home +closer'n a scale-bug to an orange-tree, Melissy, perticular if I was a +young girl, an' didn't know nothin' whatever about the hull fracas. An' +young girls ain't expected to know about such things; it ain't proper +fer 'em, especially when they're members of the fam'ly." + +This piece of highly involved wisdom quieted Melissa very much as a +handkerchief stuffed into a sufferer's mouth allays his pain. She went +about the rest of the day silent and distressed. + +At daybreak the next morning, Lysander harnessed the dun-colored mules +and drove to Los Angeles. + +The sun rose higher, and the warm dullness of a California summer day +settled down upon the little mountain ranch. Heat seemed to rise in +shimmering waves from the yellow barley stubble. The orange-trees cast +dense shadows with no coolness in them, and along the edge of the +orchard the broad leaves of the squash-vines hung in limp dejection upon +their stalks. The heated air was full of pungent odors: tar and honey +and spice from the sage and eucalyptus, with now and then a warmer puff +of some new wild fragrance from far up the mountain-side. + +"We're a-goin' to have three hot days," said Mrs. Sproul, looking +anxiously over the valley from the shelter of her husband's hat. +"Sandy'll swelter, bein' dressed up so. I do hope they won't keep him +long. He don't know nothin' about it, noway. Seems to me they might 'a' +believed him, when he said so." + +Mother Withrow had fallen into a silence full of the eloquence of +offended dignity, when Lysander disappeared. Like all tyrannical souls, +she was beginning to feel a bitterness worse than that of +opposition,--the bitterness of deceit. She knew that Lysander had +deceived her, and the knowledge was bearing its fruit of humiliation and +chagrin. The evident liberality of Forrester's course in deeding her a +share of the caņon, greater, it was said, than the loss occasioned by +the drying up of Flutterwheel Spring, had struck at the root of hatreds +and preconceptions that were far more vital to her than the mere +proprietorship of the water right. She felt hampered and defrauded by +the circumstances that forbade her to turn and fling the gift back in +his face. To this grim, gray-haired tyrant, dying of thirst seemed sweet +compared with the daily bitterness of hearing her enemy praised for his +generosity. She sat in the doorway fanning herself with her apron, and +made no reply to her daughter's anxious observation. + +"I calc'lated to rub out a few things this mornin'," continued Mrs. +Sproul, "but somehow I don't feel like settlin' down to washin' or +anythin'; an' the baby's cross, bein' all broke out with the heat. I +wonder what's become of M'lissy." + +"She's up in the oak-tree out at the barn," called William T. Sherman, +who with other fraternal generals was holding a council of war over a +gopher caught in a trap. "Letterlone; she's as cross as Sam Patch." + +"M'lissy takes her paw's death harder 'n I calc'lated she'd do," +commented Minerva, virtuously conventional; "she's a good deal upset." + +The old woman sniffed audibly. + +"I reckon you'll all live through it," she said frostily. + +Melissa, swinging her bare feet from a branch of the dense live oak in +the barnyard, had watched Lysander's departure with wistful eagerness, +entirely unaware that he had divined her secret, and was mannishly +averse to having the "women folks" of his family mixed up in a murder +trial. Now that he was really gone, and she was left to the dreariness +of her own reflections, she grew wan and white with misery. + +"I had ought to 'a' told it," she moaned. "If they don't hang 'im, they +may put 'im in jail, and that's awful." She thought of him, so straight +and lithe and gay, grown pale and wretched; manacled, according to +Ulysses's graphic description, with iron chains so heavy that he could +not rise; kept feebly alive on bread and water, and presided over by a +jailer whose ingenious cruelty knew no limit but the liveliness of the +boy's fiendish imagination. + +"A year or two," Lysander had said, as if it were a trifle. She looked +back a year, and tried to measure the time, losing herself in the hazy +monotony of her past, and conscious only of the remoteness of certain +events that served as landmarks in her simple experience,--events not +yet two years distant. + +"Orange-pickun' before last ain't nigh two years ago," she mused, "an' +'t ain't a year yet sence Lysander hauled grapes from the Mission to the +winery; an' the year before that he was over to Verdugo at the +bee-ranch, an' come home fer the grape-haulin' at Santa Elena. That's +when Hooker was born; he'll be two years old this fall; it's ever so +long ago. He couldn't stand bein' in jail that long; some folks could, +but he couldn't. He sings, and laughs out loud, and goes tearin' around +so lively. It 'ud kill 'im." + +She slipped down from the tree, and started toward the house. The path +was hot to her bare feet, and the wind came in heated gusts from the +mountains. The young turkeys panted, with uplifted wings, in the shade +of the dusty geraniums, whose scarlet blossoms were glowing in fierce +tropical enjoyment of the glaring sun. The hounds went languidly, with +lolling tongues, from one shaded spot to another, blinking their +comments on the weather at their human companions, and snapping in a +half-hearted way at unwary flies. + +Mrs. Sproul and her mother were still seated on the little porch when +Melissa appeared. + +"Why don't you come in out of the heat, child?" called her sister, as +reproachfully as if Melissa were going in the opposite direction. "We +hain't had such a desert wind for more 'n a year. I keep thinkin' about +Lysander. I've heern of people bein' took down with the heat, and havin' +trouble ever afterward with their brains." + +"Lysander ain't a-goin' to have any trouble with his brains," said her +mother significantly. + +Mrs. Sproul turned a highly insulted gaze upon the old woman's impassive +face, and tilted her husband's hat defiantly above her diminutive, +freckled countenance. + +"Lysander kin have as much trouble with his brains as anybody," she +said, with bantam-like dignity, straightening her limp calico back, and +tightening her grasp on the baby in her arms. + +The old woman elevated her shaggy brows, and made a half-mocking sound +in imitation of the spitting of an angry kitten. + +Mrs. Sproul's pale blue eyes filled with indignant tears, and she turned +toward Melissa, who looked up from the step, a gleam of sisterly +sympathy lighting up the wan dejection of her young face. + +"I wouldn't fret, Minervy," she said kindly; "Lysander don't mind the +heat. People never get sunstruck here; it's only back East. I don't +think it's so very warm, nohow." + +"Oh, it's hot enough," sniffled Mrs. Sproul, relaxing her spine under +Melissa's sympathy; "but it ain't altogether the heat. I don't like +Lysander bein' mixed up with murderers and dangerous characters; not but +what he's able to pertect himself, havin' been through the war, but it +seems as if the harmlessest person wuzn't safe when folks go 'round +shootin' right an' left without no provocation whatever. I think we'll +all be safer when that young feller's locked up in San Quentin,--which +they'll do with him, Lysander thinks." + +Mrs. Sproul drew a corner of her apron tight over her finger, and +carefully wiped a speck from the corner of the baby's eye, gazing +intently into the serene vacuity of its sleeping countenance as she +spoke. + +Melissa caught her breath, and turned and gazed fixedly through the +shimmering haze of the valley toward Los Angeles. The girl herself did +not know the resolution that was shaping itself from all the tangled +facts and fancies of her brain. Perhaps, if she had been held to strict +account, she would have said it was an impulse, "a sudden notion" in her +parlance, that prompted her to arise the next morning, before the +faintest thrill of dawn, and turn her steps toward the town in the +valley. It was not a hopeful journey, and she could not analyze the +motive that lashed her into making it; nevertheless she felt relieved +when the greasewood shut the cabin, with its trailing pepper-trees and +dusty figs and geraniums, from her sight, and she was alone on the +mountain road. It was not a pleasure to go, but it was an undeniable +hardship to stay. There had been no fog in the night, and from the warm +stillness of the early morning air the girl knew that the heat had not +abated. She was quite unmindful of the landscape, gray and brown and +black in the waning light of the misshapen and belated moon, and she was +far from knowing that the man she was making this journey to save would +have thought her a fitting central figure in the soft blur of the +Millet-like etching of which she formed a part. + +She threw back her sunbonnet and trudged along, carrying her shoes tied +together by their leathern strings and hung across her arm,--an +impediment to progress, but a concession to urban prejudices which she +did not dream of disregarding. She meant to put them on in the seclusion +of the Arroyo Seco, where she could bathe her dusty feet and rest +awhile; but remembering the heat of yesterday, she wished to make the +most of the early morning, deadly still and far from refreshing though +it was. The sea-breeze would come up later, she hoped, not without +misgivings; and the grapes were beginning to turn in the vineyards along +the road; she would have something to eat with the bit of corn-bread in +her pocket. Altogether she was not greatly concerned about herself or +the difficulties of her journey, so absorbed was she in the vague +uncertainty that lay at its end. + +The sun rose hot and pitiless, and the dust and stones of the road grew +more and more scorching to her feet. The leaves of the wild gourd, lying +in great star-shaped patches on the ground, drooped on their stems, and +the spikes of dusty white sage by the road hung limp at the ends, and +filled the air with their wilted fragrance. The sea-breeze did not come +up, and in its stead gusts of hot wind from the north swept through the +valley as if from the door of a furnace. People talked of it afterward +as "the hot spell of 18--," but in Melissa's calendar it was "the day I +walked to Loss Anjelus,"--a day so fraught with hopes and fears, so full +of dim uncertainties and dread and longing, that the heat seemed only a +part of the generally abnormal conditions in which she found herself. + +It was afternoon before she reached the end of her journey, entering the +town between rows of low, soft-tinted adobes, on the steps of which +white-shirted men and dusky, lowbrowed women and children ate melons and +laughed lazily at their neighbors, showing their gleaming teeth. She +knew where the courthouse stood, its unblushing ugliness protected by +the rusty Frémont cannon, and made her way wearily toward it through the +more modern and busier streets. + +The men who sat in front of the stores in various degrees of undress, +slapping each other resoundingly on their thinly clad backs, and +discussing the weather with passers-by in loud, jocular tones, were, to +Melissa's sober country sense, a light-minded, flippant crowd, to whom +life could have no serious aspect. She looked at them indifferently, as +they sat and joked, or ran in and out of open doors where there was a +constant fizz as of something perpetually boiling over, and made her way +among them, quite unmindful of her dusty shoes and wilted sunbonnet, and +yet vaguely conscious that at another time she might have cared. + +At the door of the courthouse, two of this same loosely clad, noisy, +perspiring species were slapping their thighs and choking in hilarious +appreciation of something which a third was reading from an open paper. +The reader made way for Melissa, backing and reading at the same time, +and the sound of their strangely incongruous mirth followed her up the +narrow, unswept, paper-strewn staircase into the stifling heat of the +second floor. She stopped there an instant, leaning against the railing, +uncertain what to do. + +One of a pair of double doors opened, and a young man, swinging an +official-looking document, crossed the hall as if he might be walking in +his sleep, and went into a room beyond; kicking the door open, catching +it with his foot, and kicking it to behind him with a familiarity that +betokened long acquaintance, and inspired Melissa with confidence in his +probable knowledge of the intricate workings of justice. She stood still +a moment, clutching the limp folds of her skirt, until the young man +returned; then she took a step forward. + +"I've come to tell what I know about the shootin'. I saw it," she +faltered. + +The somnambulistic young man shut one eye, and inclined his ear toward +her without turning his head. + +"Shooting? What shooting?" + +"Up in Sawpit Caņon--Mr. Sterling done it--but I saw it--nobody knows +it, though." The words came in short, palpitating sentences that died +away helplessly. + +Her listener hesitated for an instant, scratching the blonde plush of +his cropped scalp with his lead-pencil. Then he stepped forward and +kicked one of the double doors open, holding it with his automatic foot. + +"Bawb! oh, _Bawb!_" he called; "'m yer." + +A short fat man, with an unbuttoned vest and a general air of excessive +perspiration, waddled past the bailiff and confronted Melissa. He smiled +when he saw her, displaying an upper row of teeth heavily trimmed with +gold, a style of personal adornment which impressed Melissa anew with +the vagaries of masculine city taste. + +"Witness in the Withrow murder case, pros'cuting 'torney," said the +bailiff over his shoulder, by way of introduction, as he disappeared +through the door. + +Melissa looked at the newcomer, trembling and dumb. + +"Come in here, my girl," he said, steaming ahead of her through a door +in front of them; "come right in here. Is it pretty hot up your way?" + +"Yes, sir," she quavered, not taking the chair he cleared for her. "I +come down to tell about the shootin': I'd ought to 'a' told before, but +I was scared. Mr. Sterling done it, but paw was mad; he picked up Mr. +Sterling's gun and tried to kill 'im,--I saw it all. I was hid in the +sycamores. You hadn't ought to hang 'im or do anything to 'im: he +couldn't help it." + +The prosecuting attorney smiled his broad, gilt-edged, comfortable +smile, and laid his pudgy hand reassuringly on Melissa's shoulder. + +"It's all right, my little girl," he said. "We're not going to hang Mr. +Sterling this time; he was discharged this afternoon; but he'll be +obliged to you, all the same. He's over at the hotel taking a nap. You +just run along home, and the next time don't be afraid to tell what you +know." + +The girl turned away silently, and went down the stairs and out into the +street. She stood still a moment on the hot pavement, looking in the +direction of the hotel in which the man for whom she had made her +fruitless journey was sleeping. Then she set her face patiently toward +home. The reflection from the pavement seemed to blind her; she felt +suddenly faint and tired, and it was with a great throb of relief that +she heard a familiar voice at her elbow, and turned with a little +tearless sob to Lysander. + + +VIII. + +The Worthingtons' private parlor in the Rideau House was hot and close, +although a fog had drifted in at nightfall and cooled the outside air. +Two of its occupants, however, were totally unmindful of the heat and +the mingled odors of upholstery, gas, and varnish that prevailed within +its highly decorated walls. The third, a compact, elderly, +prosperous-looking gentleman, whose face wore a slight cloud of _ennui_, +stood by the open window gazing out, not so much from a desire to see +what was going on outside as from a good-natured unwillingness to see +what was taking place within. + +Mr. Frederick Sterling, a shade paler and several shades graver than of +old, was looking at the elderly gentleman's daughter in an unmistakable +way; and the daughter herself, a fair creature, with the fairness of +youth and health and plenty, was returning his gaze with one that was +equally unmistakable. + +"Do you mean to tell me, Frederick, that the poor thing _walked_ all +that distance in that intolerable heat?" + +The young man nodded dismally. + +"That's what they say, Annette. It makes one feel like a beast." + +"I don't see why you need say that, Frederick. I'm sure they ought to +have done something, after the awful danger you were in." The young +woman swept toward him, with one arm outstretched, and then receded, and +let her hand fall on the back of a chair, as her father yawned audibly. + +"Of course there was danger, Annette; but that doesn't remove the fact +that I was a hot-headed idiot." + +"You mustn't talk so. It is not polite to me. I am not going to marry an +idiot." + +"But you've promised." + +The young people laughed into each other's eyes. + +"Frederick," said the young girl, after a little silence, during which +they drifted into the rigid plush embrace of a sofa, "I'm going up to +see that girl and thank her." + +The young man leaned forward and caught her wrists. + +"You--angel!" + +"Yes, I'm going to-morrow. Of course you can't go." + +"Oh, good Lord, no," groaned her lover. + +"But papa can. There will be plenty of time; we don't leave until +evening. And in spite of what her father did, I feel kindly toward the +girl. There must be some good in her; she seemed to want to do you +justice. How does she look, Frederick?" + +The soft-voiced inquisitor drew her wrists from the young fellow's +grasp, and flattened his palms between hers by way of an anæsthetic. + +"Did you ever see her?" + +"Oh, yes, once or twice. A lank, forlorn, little red-headed +thing,--rather pretty. Oh, my God, Annette!" + +The girl raised the tips of his imprisoned fingers to her lips. + +"Couldn't you send her something, Frederick, some little keepsake, +something she would like, if she would like anything that wasn't too +dreadful?" + +The young fellow's face brightened. + +"Annette, you _are_ an angel." + +"No, I'm not; there are no brunette angels. I am a very practical young +woman, and I'm going with you to buy something for that poor girl; men +don't know how to buy things." She dropped her lover's hands, and went +out of the room, returning with her hat and gloves, and, going to her +father's side, she said: "Papa, Frederick and I are going out for +awhile. He wants to get a little present for a poor young girl, the +daughter of that awful wretch who--that--you know. It seems she saw it +all, and came down to say that Frederick was not to blame. Of course it +was unnecessary, for the judge and every one saw at once that he did +perfectly right; but it _was_ kind of her, and it was a _very_ hot day. +Do you mind staying here alone?--or you can go with us, if you like." + +"No, thank you; I don't mind, and I don't like," said the elderly +gentleman dryly. + +"And you'll not be lonely?" + +"No, I think not; I've been getting acquainted with myself this trip, +and I find I'm a very interesting though somewhat unappreciated old +party." + +The young girl put down her laughing face, and her father swept a kiss +from it with his gray mustache. Then the two young creatures went out +into the lighted streets, laughing and clinging to each other in the +sweet, selfish happiness that is the preface to so large a part of the +world's misery. + +They came back presently with their purchase, a somewhat obtrusively +ornate piece of jewelry, which Annette pronounced semi-barbarous; +being, she said, a compromise between her own severely classical taste +and that of Sterling, which latter, she assured her father, was entirely +savage. + +She fastened the trinket at her throat, where it acquired a sudden and +hitherto unsuspected elegance in the eyes of her lover, and then +unclasped it, and held it at arm's-length in front of her before she +laid it in its pink cotton receptacle. + +"I do hope she will be pleased, Frederick," she said, with a soft, +contented little sigh. + +And the young man set his teeth, and smiled at her from the depths of a +self-abasement that made her content a marvel to him. + +Annette went up to the mountains with her father the next day, stopping +the carriage under the pepper-trees in front of the Withrow cabin, and +stepping out a little bewildered by the meanness and poverty and squalor +of it all. + +The children came out and stood in a jagged, uneven row before her, and +the hounds sniffed at her skirts and walked around her curiously. Mrs. +Sproul appeared in the doorway with the baby, shielding its bald head +from the sun with her husband's hat, and Lysander emerged from between +two dark green rows of orange-trees across the way, his hoe on his +shoulder. + +"I want to see your daughter, the young girl,--the one that walked to +Los Angeles the other day," she said, looking at the woman. + +"M'lissy?" queried Mrs. Sproul anxiously. "Lysander, do you know if +M'lissy's about?" + +Her husband nodded backward. + +"She's over in the orchard, lookin' after the water. I'll"-- + +The stranger took two or three steps toward him and put out her hand. + +"May I go to her? Will you show me, please? I want to see her alone." + +Lysander bent his tall figure and moved along the rows of orange-trees, +until he caught a glimpse of Melissa's blue drapery. + +"She's right down there," he said, pointing between the smooth trunks +with his hoe. "It's rough walkin',--I've just been a-throwin' up a +furrow fer the irrigatin'; but I guess you c'n make it." + +She went down the shaded aisle between the orange-trees, Mrs. Sproul +looking after her dubiously, as a person guilty of a serious breach of +decorum in asking to see any one alone. + +Melissa leaned on her hoe, and watched her approach with listless +amazement. She took in every detail of her daintily clad +loveliness,--the graceful sway of her drapery as she walked, the cluster +of roses in her belt, and the wide hat with its little forest of curling +plumes. + +"You are Melissa?" The stranger put out her softly gloved hand, and +Melissa took it in limp, rustic acquiescence. "Mr. Sterling wished me +to come,--and I wanted to come myself,--to thank you for what you did; +it was very kind, and you were very brave to undertake it, and for one +you scarcely knew--it was very, _very_ good of you." + +Melissa colored to the little ripples of vivid hair about her temples. + +"Is he gone away?" she asked, rubbing her hands up and down on the worn +handle of the hoe. + +"No, but he is going this evening. Of course he could not stay. It would +be very painful for him, for all of you. Is there anything he can do for +you? He will be so glad if he can be of use to you in any way"-- She +hesitated, watching the pained look grow in her listener's face. + +"Ain't he never comin' back?" asked Melissa wistfully. + +Annette opened her brown eyes wide, and fixed them on the girl's face. + +"I don't know," she faltered. + +"I'd like to keep his hankecher," Melissa broke out tremulously. "I hurt +my arm oncet up where they was blastin', and he tied it up fer me with +his hankecher. I was takin' it to 'im that Sunday. I had it all washed +and done up. I'd like to keep it, though,--if you think he wouldn't +care." Her eyes filled, and her voice broke treacherously. "That's all. +Tell 'im good-by." + +Annette was gazing at her breathlessly. It came over her like a cloud, +the poverty, the hopelessness, the dreariness of it all. She made a +little impetuous rush forward. + +"Oh, yes, yes," she said eagerly, through her tears; "and he is so +sorry, and he sent you these,"--she took the roses from her belt, her +lover's roses, and thrust them into Melissa's nerveless grasp,--"and +I--oh, _I_ shall love you always!" + +Then she turned, and hurried through the sun and shadow of the orchard +back to the carriage. + +"I am ready to go now," she said, somewhat stiffly, to her father. + +All the way down the dusty mountain road, over which Melissa had +traveled so patiently, she kept murmuring to herself, "Oh, the poor +thing,--the poor, poor thing!" + +Some years afterwards, when Mr. Frederick Sterling's girth and dignity +had noticeably increased, he saw among his wife's ornaments a gaudy +trinket that brought a curious twinge of half-forgotten pain into his +consciousness. He was not able to understand, nor is it likely that he +will ever know, how it came there, or why there came over him at sight +of it a memory of sycamores and running water, and the smell of sage and +blooming buckthorn and chaparral. + + + + +ALEX RANDALL'S CONVERSION. + + +I. + +Mrs. Randall was piecing a quilt. She had various triangular bits of +calico, in assorted colors, strung on threads, and distributed in piles +on her lap. She had put on her best dress in honor of the minister's +visit, which was just ended. It was a purple, seeded silk, adorned with +lapels that hung in wrinkles across her flat chest, and she had spread a +gingham apron carefully over her knees, to protect their iridescent +splendor. + +She was a russet-haired woman, thin, with that blonde thinness which +inclines to transparent redness at the tip of the nose and chin, and the +hand that hovered over the quilt patches, in careful selection of colors +for a "star and chain" pattern, was of a glistening red, and coarsely +knotted at the knuckles, in somewhat striking contrast to her delicate +face. + +Her husband sat at a table in one corner of the spotless kitchen, eating +a belated lunch. He was a tall man, and stooped so that his sunburned +beard almost touched the plate. + +"Mr. Turnbull was here," said Mrs. Randall, with an air of introducing a +subject rather than of giving information. + +The man held a knife-load of smear-case in front of his mouth, and +grunted. It was not an interrogative grunt, but his wife went on. + +"He said he could 'a' put off coming if he'd known you had to go to +mill." + +Mr. Randall swallowed the smear-case. His bushy eyebrows met across his +face, and he scowled so that the hairs stood out horizontally. + +"Did you tell him I could 'a' put off going to mill till I knowed he was +coming?" + +His thick, obscure voice seemed to tangle itself in the hay-colored +mustache that hid his mouth. His tone was tantalizingly free from anger. + +"I wish you wouldn't, Elick," said his wife reproachfully; "not before +the children, anyway." + +The children, a girl of seven and a boy of four, sat on the doorstep in +a sort of dazed inertia, occasioned by the shock of the household's +sudden and somewhat perplexing return to its week-day atmosphere just as +they had adjusted themselves to the low Sabbatic temperature engendered +by the minister's presence. + +The girl had two tightly braided wisps of hair in varying hues of +corn-silk, curving together at the ends like the mandibles of a beetle. +She turned when her father spoke, and looked from him to her mother with +a round, blue-eyed stare from under her bulging forehead. The boy's +stolid head was thrown back a little, so that his fat neck showed two +sunburned wrinkles below his red curls. His gingham apron parted at the +topmost button, disclosing a soft, pathetic little back, and his small +trousers were hitched up under his arms, the two bone buttons which +supported them staring into the room reproachfully, as if conscious of +the ignominy of belonging to masculine garb under the feminine eclipse +of an apron. + +Mrs. Randall bent a troubled gaze upon her offspring, as if expecting +to see them wilt visibly under their father's irreverence. + +"Mary Frances," she said anxiously, "run away and show little brother +the colts." + +The girl got up and took her brother's hand. + +"Come on, Wattie," she said in a small, superior way, very much as if +she had added: "These grown people have weaknesses which it is better +for us to pretend not to know. They are going to talk about them." + +Mrs. Randall waited until the two little figures idled across the +dooryard before she spoke. + +"I don't think you ought to act the way you do, Elick, just because you +don't like Mr. Turnbull; it ain't right." + +The man dropped his chin doggedly, and fed himself without lifting his +elbows from the table. + +"I can't always manage to be at home when folks come a-visiting," he +said in his gruff, tangled voice. + +"You was at church on Sabbath when Mr. Turnbull gave out the pastoral +visitations: he knew that as well as I did. I couldn't say a word +to-day. I just had to set here and take it." + +"No, you didn't, Matilda: you didn't have to stay any more than I did." + +"Elick!" + +The woman's voice had a sharp reproof in it. He had touched the +Calvinistic quick. She might not reverence the man, but the minister was +sacred. + +"Well, I can't help it," persisted her husband obstinately. "You can +take what you please off him. I don't want him to say anything to me." + +"Oh, he didn't _say_ anything, Elick. What was there to say?" + +"He doesn't gener'ly keep still because he has nothin' to say." + +The man gave a muffled, explosive laugh, and pushed back his chair. Mrs. +Randall's eyelids reddened. She laid down her work and got up. + +"I guess I'll take off this dress before I clear up the things," she +said, in a voice of temporary defeat. + +Her husband picked up the empty water-pail as he left the kitchen, and +filled it at the well. When he brought it back there was no one +visible. + +"Need any wood, Tildy?" he called toward the bedroom where she was +dressing. + +"No, I guess not." The voice was indistinct, but she might have had her +skirt over her head. Alex made a half-conciliatory pause. He preferred +to know that she was not crying. + +"How you been feelin' to-day?" + +"Middlin'." + +She was not crying. The man gave his trousers a hitch of relief, and +went back to his work. + +There had been a scandal in Alex Randall's early married life. The +scattered country community had stood aghast before the certainty of his +guilt, and there had been a little lull in the gossip while they waited +to see what his wife would do. + +Matilda Hazlitt had been counted a spirited girl before her marriage, +and there were few of her neighbors who hesitated to assert that she +would take her baby and go back to her father's house. It had been a +nine-days' wonder when she had elected to believe in her husband. The +injured girl had been an adopted member of the elder Randall's +household, half servant, half daughter, and it was whispered that her +love for Alex was older than his marriage. Just how much of the +neighborhood talk had reached Matilda's ears no one knew. The girl had +gone away, and the community had accepted Alex Randall for his wife's +sake, but not unqualifiedly. + +Mrs. Randall had never been very strong, and of late she had become +something of an invalid, as invalidism goes in the country, where women +are constantly ailing without any visible neglect of duty. It had "broke +her spirit," the women said. Some of the younger of them blamed her, but +in the main it was esteemed a wifely and Christian course that she +should make this pretense of confidence in her husband's innocence for +the sake of her child. No one wondered that it wore upon her health. + +Alex had been grateful, every one acknowledged, and it was this fact of +his dogged consideration for Matilda's comfort that served more than +anything else to reinstate him somewhat in the good opinion of his +neighbors. There had been a good deal of covert sympathy for Mrs. +Randall at first, but as years went by it had died out for lack of +opportunity to display itself. True, the minister had made an effort +once to express to her his approval of her course, but it was not likely +that any one else would undertake it, nor that he would repeat the +attempt. She had looked at him curiously, and when she spoke the iciness +of her tone made his own somewhat frigid utterances seem blushingly warm +and familiar by contrast. + +"It would be strange," she said, "if a wife should need encouragement to +stand by her husband when he is in trouble." + +Alex had hated the minister ever since, and had made this an excuse for +growing neglect of religious duties. + +"It is no wonder he dreads to go to preachin', with that awful sin on +his conscience," the women whispered to one another. They always +whispered when they spoke of sin, as if it were sleeping somewhere near, +and were liable to be aroused. Matilda divined their thoughts, and +fretted under Alex's neglect of public service. She wished him to carry +his head high, with the dignity of innocence. It appalled him at times +to see how perfectly she apprehended her own part as the wife of a man +wrongfully accused. He was not dull, but he had a stupid masculine +candor of soul that stood aghast before her unswerving hypocrisy. She +had never asked him to deny his guilt; she had simply set herself to +establish his innocence. + +Small wonder that she was tried and hampered by his failure to "act like +other people," as she would have said if she had ever put her worry into +words. It had been one of many disappointments to her that he should go +to mill that day, instead of putting on his best coat and sitting in +sullen discomfort through the pastor's "catechising." She had felt such +pride in his presence at church on Sabbath; and then had come the +announcement, "Thursday afternoon, God willing, I shall visit the family +of Mr. Alexander Randall." How austerely respectable it had sounded! And +the people had glanced toward the pew and seen Alex sitting there, with +Wattie on his knee. And after all he had gone to mill, and left her to +be pitied as the wife of a man who was afraid to face the preacher in +his own house! + +Matilda slipped the rustling splendor of her purple silk over her head, +and went back to the limpness of her week-day calico with a sigh. + +When Alex came in for the milk-pail, she was standing by the stove, +turning the long strips of salt pork that curled and sizzled in the +skillet. Her shoulders seemed to droop a trifle more in her +working-dress, but her face was flushed from the heat of the cooking. + +"There wasn't any call to get a warm supper for me, Tildy. I ain't +hungry to speak of." + +"Well, I guess anyway I'd better make some milk gravy for the children; +I didn't have up a fire at noon, see'n' you was away. It ain't much +trouble." + +Her voice was resolutely cheerful, and Alex knew that the discussion was +ended. But after the supper things were cleared away, she said to Mary +Frances, "Can't you go and let your pa see how nice you can say your +psa'm?" + +And the child had gone outside where Alex was sitting, and had stood +with her hands behind her, her sharp little shoulders moving in unison +with her sing-song as she repeated the verses. + + "'That man hath perfect blessedness + Who walketh not astray + In counsel of ungodly men, + Nor stands in sinners' way, + Nor sitteth in the scorner's chair: + But placeth his delight + Upon God's law, and meditates + On his law day and night.'" + +The child caught her breath with a long sigh, and hurried on to the end. + + "'In judgment, therefore, shall not stand + Such as ungodly are; + Nor in th' assembly of the just + Shall wicked men appear. + For why? The way of godly men + Unto the Lord is known; + Whereas the way of wicked men + Shall quite be overthrown.'" + +Then she stood still, waiting for her father's praise. + +He caught her thin little arm and drew her toward him, where she could +not look into his face. + +"You say it very nice, Mary Frances,--very nice indeed." + +And Mary Frances smiled, a prim little satisfied smile, and nestled her +slim body against him contentedly. + + +II. + +Ten years drifted away, and there was a new minister in the congregation +at Blue Mound. The Reverend Andrew Turnbull had died, and his successor +had come from a Western divinity school, with elocutionary honors thick +upon him. Under his genial warmth the congregation had thawed into a +staid enthusiasm. To take their orthodoxy with this generous coating of +zeal and kindliness and graceful rhetoric, and know that the bitterness +that proclaimed it genuine was still there, unimpaired and effective, +was a luxury that these devout natures were not slow to appreciate. A +few practical sermons delivered with the ardor and enthusiasm of a +really earnest youth stamped the newcomer as a "rare pulpiter," and a +fresh, bubbling geniality, as sincere as it was effusive, opened a new +world to their creed-encompassed souls. Not one of them thought of +resenting his youthful patronage. He was the ambassador of God to them, +and, while they would have been shocked beyond measure at his +appearance in the pulpit in a gray coat, they perceived no incongruity +between the brightness of his smile and the gloom of his theology. + +This man came into Alex Randall's house with no odor of sanctity about +him, and with no knowledge of an unhappy past. Matilda had grown older +and stooped more, and her knot of sandy hair was less luxuriant than it +had once been, but there were no peevish, fretful lines on her face. It +began to grow young again now that she saw Alex becoming "such friends +with the minister." Mary Frances was a tall, round-shouldered girl, +teaching the summer school, and Wattie was a sturdy boy in +roundabouts, galloping over the farm, clinging horizontally to +half-broken colts, and suffering from a perpetual peeling of the skin +from his sunburned nose. Matilda was proud of her children. She hoped it +was not an ungodly pride. She knelt very often on the braided rug, and +buried her worn face in the side of her towering feather bed, while she +prayed earnestly that they might honor their _father_ and their mother, +that their days might be long in the land which the Lord their God had +given them. If she laid a stress upon the word "father," was it to be +wondered at? And the children did honor their father so far as she knew. +If he would only join the church, and share with her the responsibility +of their precious souls! It had been hard for her, when Wattie was +baptized, to stand there alone and feel the pitying looks of the +congregation behind her. Her pulse quickened now at every announcement +of communion, and she listened with renewed hopefulness when Mr. +Anderson leaned forward in the pulpit and gave the solemn invitation to +those who had sat under the kindly influence of the gospel for many +years untouched to shake off their soul-destroying lethargy, and come +forward and enroll themselves on the Lord's side. + +It was the Friday after one of these appeals that Alex came into the +kitchen and said awkwardly,-- + +"I guess I'll change my clothes, Matildy, and go over t' the church this +afternoon and meet the Session." + +She felt the burden of years lifted from her shoulders. She said +simply,-- + +"I'm real glad of it, Elick. You'll find two shirts in the middle +drawer. I think the under one's the best." + +Matilda went back to her work, and thought how the stain would be wiped +away. "They'll have to give in that he's a good man now," she said to +herself. She fought with the smile that would curve her lips. The +minister would announce it on Sabbath. "By letter from sister +congregations," and then the names; and then, "On profession of faith, +Alexander Randall." She tried to stifle her pride. It must be pride, she +said,--it must be something evil that could make her so very, _very_ +happy. + + +III. + +It was late when Alex came home, and he did the chores after supper. +Mary Frances and Wattie had gone to singing-school and Matilda was alone +in the kitchen when her husband came in. He sat down on the doorstep, +with his back to her and his head down, and stuck the blade of his +jack-knife into the pine step between his feet. There was a long +silence, and when he spoke his voice had a husky embarrassment. + +"There's something I suppose I'd ought to have talked to you about all +this time, Matildy, but somehow I couldn't seem to do it. I had a talk +with Mr. Anderson, and he brought it up before the Session, and they +didn't seem to think anything more need to be said about it. It's all +dead and gone now, and of course you know I've been sorry time and time +and again. I don't suppose I ought to say it, but it wasn't altogether +my fault. She never did act right, but then, of course"-- + +"_Elick!_" + +The man heard his name in a quick gasp behind him. He turned and looked +up. Matilda was standing over him, with a white, distorted face. + +"Do you mean--to tell me--that it was _true_?" + +She got the words out with an effort. Her chin worked convulsively. She +looked an old, old woman. + +"True?" + +The man lifted a dazed, questioning face to hers. He groped his way back +through twenty years. This woman had believed in him all the time! He +saw her take two or three steps backward and fall into a chair. They +sat there until the room grew dark. The wind began to blow through the +house, and Alex got up and put out the cat and shut the door. Then he +went to his wife's side. + +"Don't you think you'd better go to bed, Matildy?" + +She shook her head. + +"I suppose there's such a thing as repentance," he went on, with a rasp +in his voice, "and a blotting out of sins, isn't there, Matildy?" + +She put out her hand and pushed him away. He went into the bedroom and +shut the door. She could hear him pulling off his boots on the bootjack. +Then he walked about a little in his stocking feet, and presently the +bed-cord squeaked, and she knew he was in bed. Later, she could hear his +heavy breathing. She sat there in the dark until she heard Wattie +whistling; then she got up and lit a candle and opened the door softly. +The boy came loping up the path. + +"Mary France's got a beau!" he broke out, with a little snort of +ridicule. + +His mother laid her hand on his arm. + +"Wattie," she said, "I want you to go out to the barn and harness up old +Doll and the colt. I want you to go with me and Mary Frances over to +grandfather Hazlitt's." + +The boy's mouth and eyes grew round. + +"To-night?" + +"Yes, right away. I don't want you to ask any questions, Wattie. Mother +never yet told you to do anything wrong. Just go out and get the team, +and be as quiet as you can." + +The boy "hunched" his shoulders, and started with long, soft strides +toward the barn. His mother heard him begin to whistle again and then +stop abruptly. She stood on the step until she heard voices at the gate, +and Mary Frances came up the walk between the marigolds and zinnias and +stood in the square of light from the door. She met her mother with a +pink, bashful face. + +"I want you to go upstairs, Mary Frances, and get your other cloak and +my blanket shawl. Wattie's gone to fetch the horses. You and him and +me's goin' over to grandfather Hazlitt's." + +"To grandfather Hazlitt's this time o' night! Is anybody sick?" + +"No, there's nobody sick. I don't want you should ask any questions, +Mary Frances. Just get on your things, and do as mother says; and don't +make any more noise than you can help." + +The young girl went into the house, and came out presently with her +mother's shawl and bonnet. They could hear the wagon driving around to +the gate. + +Matilda went into the kitchen and blew out the candle. Then she closed +the door quietly, and went down the walk with her daughter. + +Matilda Randall was not at communion on the next Sabbath. She was "down +sick at her father's," the women said, and they thought it hard that she +should be absent when Alex joined the church. + +"I don't doubt it's been quite a cross to her, the way he's held out," +one of them remarked; "and it seems a pity she couldn't have been there +to partake with him the first time." + +But the weary woman, lying so still in her old room in her father's +house, had a heavier cross. + +Her mother tiptoed into the room, the morning after her arrival, and +stood beside her until she opened her eyes. + +"Elick is outside, Matildy. Shall I tell him to come in?" + +She shook her head, and closed her eyes again wearily. + +The old woman went out, and confronted her gray-haired husband +helplessly. + +"It beats me, Josiah, what he could 'a' said or done that she's took to +heart so, after what she's put up with all these years." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Anderson preached the funeral sermon very touchingly, when it was +all over. The tears came into his young eyes, and there were treacherous +breaks in his rhetoric as he talked. + +"This sister in Israel, whose lovely and self-sacrificing life has just +ended so peacefully, lived to see the dearest wish of her heart +gratified,--the conversion of the husband of her youth to the faith of +her fathers. We are told that some have died of grief, but if this frail +heart ceased to beat from any excess of emotion, it must have been, my +friends, from the fullness of joy,--the joy 'that cometh in the +morning.'" + +But Alex Randall knew better. + + + + +IDY. + + +I. + +Seņora Gonzales was leaning upon the corral gate in the shade of the +pomegranates, looking out over the lake. The lake itself was not more +placid than the seņora's face under her black rebozo. Perhaps a long +life of leaning and gazing had given her those calm, slow-moving eyes, +full of the wisdom of unfathomable ignorance. The landscape on the +opposite shore was repeated in the water below, as if to save her the +trouble of raising her heavily fringed lids. To the southward a line of +wild geese gleamed snow-white, like the crest of a wave. Half a dozen +dogs were asleep in the smoothly swept dooryard behind her, and a young +Mexican, whose face was pitted by smallpox, like the marks of raindrops +in dry sand, leaned against the gnarled trunk of a trellised grapevine, +clasping his knees, and sending slow wreaths of smoke from his +cigarette. The barley in the field behind the house was beginning to +head, and every breath of wind stirred it in glistening waves. Beyond +the field shone a yellow mist of wild mustard. The California spring, +more languorous, even with its hint of moisture, than the cloudless +summer, sent a thousand odors adrift upon the air. Even the smell of +garlic hanging about the seņora could not drown the scent of the +orange-blooms, and as for Ricardo's cigarette, surely no reasonable +mortal could object to that. Ricardo himself would have questioned the +sanity of any one who might have preferred the faint, musky fragrance of +the alfilaria to the soothing odor of tobacco. He closed his eyes in +placid unconsciousness of such vagaries of taste, and rocked himself +rhythmically, as if he were a part of the earth, and felt its motion. + +A wagon was creaking along the road behind the house, but it did not +disturb him. There were always wagons now; Ricardo had grown used to +them, and so had the seņora, who did not even turn her head. These +restless Americanos, who bought pieces of land that were not large +enough to pasture a goat, and called them ranchos--caramba! what fools +they were, always a-hurrying about! + +The wagon had stopped. Well, it would be time enough to move when some +one called. A dust-colored hound that slept at the corner of the house, +stretched flat, as if moulded in relief from the soil upon which he lay, +raised his head and pricked up one ear; then arose, as if reluctantly +compelled to do the honors, and went slowly around the house. + +"Of course they've got a dawg; forty of 'em, like enough!" It was a +girl's voice, pitched in a high, didactic key. "I guess I c'n make 'em +understand, pappy; I'll try, anyway." + +She came around the house, and confronted Ricardo, who took his +cigarette from his mouth, and looked at her gravely without moving. The +seņora turned her head slowly, and glanced over her shoulder. + +The girl smiled, displaying two rows of sound teeth shut tightly +together. + +"How do you do?" she said, raising her voice still higher, and advancing +toward the seņora with outstretched hand. "I suppose you're Mrs. +Gonsallies." + +The seņora disentangled one arm slowly from her rebozo, and gave the +newcomer a large, brown, cushiony hand. + +"This is my fawther," continued the girl, waving her left hand toward +her companion; "sabby?" + +The man stepped forward, and confronted the seņora. She looked at him +gravely, and shook her head. He was a small, heavily bearded man, with +soft, bashful brown eyes, which fell shyly under the seņora's placid +gaze. + +"She don't understand you, Idy," he said helplessly. + +The girl caught his hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Never mind, +pappy," she said, lowering her voice; "I'll fetch her. Now, listen," she +went on, fixing her wide gray eyes on the seņora, and speaking in a +loud, measured voice. "I--am--Idy Starkweather. This--is--my--fawther. +There! Now! Sabby?" + +Evidently she considered failure to understand English a species of +physical disability which might be overcome by strong concentration of +the will. + +The seņora turned a bland, unmoved face upon her son. The eyes of the +newcomers followed her gaze. Ricardo held his cigarette between his +fingers, and blew a cloud of smoke above his head. + +"She don' spik no Englis'," he said, looking at them mildly. + +The girl flushed to the roots of her hay-colored frizz of hair. "You're +a nice one!" she said. "Why didn't you speak up?" + +Ricardo gave her another gentle, undisturbed glance. "Ah on'stan' a +leetle Englis'; Ah c'n talk a leetle," he said calmly. + +The girl hesitated an instant, letting her desire for information +struggle with her resentment. "Well, then," she said, lowering her voice +half sullenly, "my fawther here wants to ask you something. We live a +mile or so down the road. We've come out from Ioway this summer--me and +mother, that is; pappy here come in the spring, didn't you, pappy? An' +he bought the Slater place, an' there's ten acres of vineyard, an' +Barden,--he's the real 'state agent over t' Elsmore, you know 'im,--he +told my fawther they wuz all raisin-grapes, white muscat,--didn't he, +pappy?--an' my fawther here paid cash down fer the place, an' the +vineyard's comin' into bearin' next fall, an' Parker Lowe,--he has a +gov'ment claim on section eighteen, back of our ranch,---maybe you know +'im,--he says they're every one mission grapes--fer makin' wine. He +helped set 'em out, an' he says they got the cuttin's from your folks; +but I thought he wuz sayin' it just to plague me, so my fawther here +thought he'd come an' ask. If they are wine-grapes, that felluh Barden +lied--didn't he, pappy?" + +The Mexican gazed at her pensively through the smoke of his cigarette. + +"Yass, 'm," he said slowly and softly--"yass, 'm; Ah gass he tell good +deal lies. Ah gass he don' tell var' much trut'." + +"Then they _are_ mission grapes?" + +"Yass, 'm; dey all meession grapes; dey mek var' good wahn." + +The girl's face flamed an angry red under her crimpled thatch of hair. +She put out her hand with a swift, protecting gesture, and caught her +father's sleeve. + +The little man's cheeks were pale gray above his shaggy beard. He took +off his hat, and nervously wiped the damp hair from his forehead. His +daughter did not look at him. Ricardo could see the frayed plume on her +jaunty turban quiver. + +"My fawther here's a temperance man, a prohibitionist: he don't believe +in wine; he hates it; he wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. That +felluh Barden knowed it--didn't he, pappy? He lied!" She spoke fiercely, +catching her breath between her sentences. + +The Mexican threw away the end of his cigarette, and gazed after it with +pensive regret. + +"Some folks don' lak wahn," he said amiably. "Ah lak it var' well +mahse'f. Ah gass he al's tell var' big lies, Mist' Barrd'n." + +The girl turned away, still grasping her father's arm. Then she came +back, with a sudden and somewhat bewildering accession of civility. +"Addyoce," she said, bowing loftily toward the seņora. The plume in her +hat had turned in the afternoon breeze, and curved forward, giving her a +slightly martial aspect. + +"Addyoce, Mr. Gonsallies. We're much obliged,--ain't we, pappy? +Addyoce." + +Ricardo touched his sombrero. "Good-evenin', mees," he said in his +soft, leisurely voice; "good-evenin', seņor." + +When the last ruffle of Miss Starkweather's green "polonay" had +disappeared around the corner of the adobe house, the seņora drifted +slowly across the dooryard in her voluminous pink drapery, and sat down +beside her son. There was a thin stratum of curiosity away down in her +Latin soul. What had Ricardo done to make the seņorita so very angry? +She was angry, was she not? + +Oh, yes, she was very angry, but Ricardo had done nothing. Seņor Barden +had sold her father ten acres of wine-grapes, and the old man did not +like wine; he liked raisins. Santa Maria! Did he mean to eat ten acres +of raisins? He need not drink his wine; he could sell it. But the +seņorita was very angry; she would probably kill Seņor Barden. She had +said she would kill him with a very long pole--ten feet. Ricardo would +not care much if she did. Seņor Barden had called him a greaser. But as +for a man who did not like wine--caramba! + + +II. + +Parker Lowe's government claim was a fractional section, triangular in +shape, with its base on the grant line of Rancho la Laguna, and its apex +high up on the mountain-side. Parker's cabin was perched upon the +highest point, at the mouth of the caņon, in a patch of unconquerable +boulders. Other government settlers were wont to remark the remoteness +of his residence from the tillable part of his claim, but Parker +remained loyal to his own fireside. + +"It's a sightly place," he asserted, "and nigh to the water, and it +ain't no furder goin' down to work than it would be comin' up fer a +drink, besides bein' down-grade. I lay out to quit workin' some o' these +days, but I don't never lay out to quit drinkin'." + +This latter determination on Parker's part had come to be pretty well +understood, and the former would have obtained ready credence except for +the fact that one cannot very well quit what he has never begun. Without +risking the injustice of the statement that Parker was lazy, it is +perhaps safe to say that he belonged by nature to the leisure class, +and doubtless felt the accident of his birth even more keenly than the +man of unquenchable industry who finds himself born to wealth and +idleness. "Holdin' down a claim" had proved an occupation as well +adapted to his tastes as anything that had ever fallen to his lot, and +his bachelor establishment among the boulders was managed with an +economy of labor, and a resultant of physical comfort, hitherto unknown +in the annals of housekeeping. The house itself was of unsurfaced +redwood, battened with lath to keep out the winter rain. The furniture +consisted of a wide shelf upon which he slept, two narrower ones which +held the tin cans containing his pantry stores, a bench, a table which +"let down" against the wall by means of leathern hinges when not in use, +a rusty stove, and a much-mended wooden chair. From numerous nails in +the wall smoky ends of bacon were suspended by their original hempen +strings, and the size of the grease-spot below testified to the length +of the "side" which Parker had carried in a barley sack from Barney +Wilson's store at Elsmore, five miles away on the other side of the +lake. Parker surveyed these mural decorations with deep, inward +satisfaction not untinged with patriotism. + +"There wa'n't many folks right here when I filed on to this claim," he +had been known to remark, "an' I may have trouble provin' up. But if the +Register of the General Land-Office wants to come an' take a look, he +c'n figger up from them ends o' bacon just about how long I've lived +here, an' satisfy himself that I've acted fair with the gover'ment, +which I've aimed to do, besides makin' all these improvements." + +The improvements referred to were hardly such as an artist would have so +designated, but Parker surveyed them with taste and conscience void of +offense. The redwood shanty; a dozen orange-trees, rapidly diminishing +in size and number by reason of neglect and gophers; a clump of slender, +smoky eucalypti; a patch of perennial tomato-vines; and a few acres of +what Barney Wilson called "veteran barley,"--it having been sown once, +and having "volunteered" ever since,--constituted those additions to the +value of the land, if not to the landscape, upon which Parker based his +homestead rights. + +Since the Laguna Ranch had been subdivided, and settlers had increased, +and especially since Eben Starkweather had bought the Slater place, and +Ida Starkweather had invaded the foot-hills with her vigorous, +self-reliant, breezy personality, Parker had been contemplating further +improvements in his domicile--improvements which, in moments of +flattered hope, assumed the dignity of a lean-to, a rocking-chair, and a +box-spring mattress. The dreams which had led him to a consideration of +this domestic expansion he had confided to no one but Mose Doolittle, +who had a small stock-ranch high up on the mountain, and who found +Parker's cabin a convenient resting-place on his journeys up and down +the trail. + +"I tell ye," he had said to Mose, "that girl is no slouch. Her pa is an +infant in arms, a babe an' a suckling, beside her. Her ma is sickly; one +o' your chronics. Idy runs the ranch. I set here of evenin's, an' watch +'em through this yer field-glass. She slams around that place like a +house a-fire. It's inspirin' to see her. Give me a woman that makes +things hum, ever-ee time!" + +"Somebody said she had a hell of a temper," ventured Mose, willing to be +the recipient of further confidences. + +"Somebody lied. She's got spunk. When she catches anybody in a mean +trick she don't quote poetry to 'im; she gives 'im the straight goods. +Some folks call that temper. I call it sand. There'll be a picnic when +she gets hold o' Barden!" + +Parker raised the field-glass again, and leveled it on the Starkweather +homestead. + +"There's the infant now, grubbin' greasewood. He's a crank o' the first +water; you'd ought to hear 'im talk. He went through the war, an' he's +short one lung, an' he's got the asmy so bad he breathes like a squeaky +windmill, an' he won't apply fer a pension because he says he was awful +sickly when he enlisted, an' he thinks goin' South an' campin' out saved +his life. That's what I call lettin' yer 'magination run away with ye." + +"What does Idy think about it?" queried Mose innocently. + +"Idy stands up fer her pa; that's what I like about 'er. I like a woman +that'll back a man up, right er wrong; it's proper an' female. It's +what made me take a shine to 'er." + +"You wouldn't want her to back Barden up." Mose made the suggestion +preoccupiedly, with his eyes discreetly wandering over the landscape, as +if he had suddenly missed some accustomed feature of it. + +Parker lowered the glass and glanced at him suspiciously. "No, sir-ee! +If there's any backin' done there, Barden'll do it. She'll make 'im +crawfish out o' sight when she ketches 'im. That's another thing I like +about 'er; she'll stand up fer a feller; that is, fer any feller that +b'longs to 'er--that is, I mean, fer a feller she b'longs to." + +Mose got up and turned around, and brushed the burr-clover from his +overalls. + +"Well, I guess I must be movin'," he said, with a highly artificial +yawn. "Come here, you Muggins!" he called to his burro, which had +strayed into the alfilaria. "Give me an invite to the weddin', Parker. +I'll send you a fresh cow if you do." + +Parker held the glass between his knees, and looked down at it with +gratified embarrassment. + +"There's a good deal to be gone through with yet, Mose," he said +dubiously. "I set up here with this yer field-glass, workin' myself up +to it, an' then I go down there, an' she comes at me so brash I get all +rattled, an' come home 'thout 'complishin' anythin'. But I'll make it +yet," he added, with renewed cheerfulness. "She sewed a button on fer me +t' other day. Now, between ourselves, Mose, don't ye think that's kind +o' hopeful?" + +Hopeful! Mose would say it was final. No girl had ever sewed a button on +for him. When one did, he would propose to her on the spot. He wondered +what Parker was thinking of not to seize such an opportunity. + +"That's what I had ought to 'a' done," acknowledged Parker, shaking his +head ruefully. "Yes, sir; that's what I'd ought to 'a' done. I had ought +to 'a' seized that opportunity an' pressed my suit." + +"That's the idea, Park," said his companion gravely, as he bestrode +Muggins, and jerked the small dejected creature out into the trail. +"You'd ought to 'a' pressed your suit; there's nothin' a woman likes +better 'n pressin' your suit. Whoop-la, Muggins!" + +Some time after Mose had disappeared up the caņon, Parker heard a loud +echoing laugh. He turned his head to listen, and then raised the glass +and leveled it on Starkweather's ranch. + +"I thought at first that was Idy," he said to himself, "but it wa'n't. +She 's got a cheerful disposition, but I don't believe she'd laugh that +a-way when she's a-learnin' a bull calf to drink; that ain't what I call +a laughin' job. Jeemineezer! don't she hold that cantankerous little +buzzard's head down pretty. Whoa there, Calamity! don't you back into +the chicken corral. That's right, Idy, jam his head into the bucket, an' +set down on it--you're a daisy!" + + +III. + +On the strength of Mose's friendly encouragement, Parker betook himself +next day to where Eben Starkweather was trimming greasewood roots, and +moved about sociably from one hillock to another while his neighbor +worked. Nothing but the ardor of unspoken love would have reconciled +Parker to the exertion involved, for Eben worked briskly, in spite of +his singularity of lung and the disadvantages of "asmy," and the +greasewood was not very thick on the ground he had been clearing. The +grotesque gnarled roots were collected in little heaps, like piles of +discarded heathen images, and Eben hacked about among them, a very +mild-mannered but determined iconoclast. + +"I'll have to keep at it pretty studdy," he explained apologetically to +his visitor, "fer they say we're like enough not to have any more rain, +and I'm calc'latin' to grub out the vineyard before the ground hardens +up." + +"Goin' to yank them vines all out, are ye?" + +"That's the calc'lation." + +Parker clasped one knee, and whetted his knife on the toe of his boot +reflectively. + +"'Pears to me ye might sell off that vineyard, an' buy a strip t' other +side of ye, an' set out muscats." + +"I couldn't sell that vineyard," said Eben. He had laid down his axe, +and was wiping his forehead nervously with an old silk handkerchief. + +"Oh, I reckon ye could," said Parker easily; "ye got the whole place +pretty reasonable." + +The little man's bearded mouth twitched. When he spoke, his voice was +high and strained. + +"I'd jest as soon keep a saloon; I'd jest as soon sell wine to a man +after it's made as before it's made." He wiped the moist inner band of +his hat, and then dropped his handkerchief into it, and put it on his +head. Parker could see his grimy hand tremble. "I didn't know what I was +buyin'," he went on, picking up his axe, "but I'd know what I was +sellin'." + +Parker glanced at him as he fell to work. He was a crooked little man, +and one shoulder was higher than the other; there was nothing aggressive +in his manner. He had turned away as if he did not care to argue, did +not care even for a response. Perhaps no man on earth had less ability +to comprehend a timid soul lashed by conscience than Parker Lowe. "The +hell!" he ejaculated under his breath. Then he sat still a moment, and +drew a map of his claim, and the adjoining subdivision, on the ground +between his feet. The affectionate way in which the Starkweather ranch +line joined his own seemed suggestive. + +"It 'pears to me," he broke out judicially, "that ye could argue this +thing out better 'n ye do. Now, if I was in your place, 'pears to me I'd +look at it this a-way. There's a heap o' churches in Ameriky, an', if I +remember right, they mostly use wine for communion. I hain't purtook for +some time myself, but I guess I've got it right. Now all the wine that +could be made out o' them grapes o' yourn wouldn't s'ply half the +churches in this country, not to mention Europe an' Asie, an' Afriky; +an' as long as that's the case, I don't see as you're called on to +_know_ that your wine's used fer anything but religious purposes. Of +course you can conjure up all sorts o' turrible things about gettin' +drunk an' cavin' round, but that's what I call lettin' yer 'magination +run away with ye." + +"Your 'magination don't have to run a great ways to see men gettin' +drunk," said Eben, with some relaxation of voice and manner. The absence +of conviction which Parker's logic displayed seemed a relief to him. His +fanaticism was personal, not polemical. + +"What'd ye raise back in Ioway?" asked Parker, with seeming irrelevance. + +"Corn." + +"How'd ye reconcile that?" + +"I didn't reconcile it; I couldn't. I sold out, an' come away." + +Parker trimmed a ragged piece of leather from the sole of his boot, and +whistled softly. + +"Well, I try not to be an extremist," he said, with moderation. "That +Barden's the brazenest liar on this coast. He'd ought to be kicked by a +mule. I'd like to see Idy tackle 'im." + +This suggestive combination of Barden's deserts with his daughter's +energy seemed to give Eben no offense. + +"Idy's so mad with him she gets excited," he said mildly. "I can't make +'er see it's all fer the best. Sence I've found out about the vines, +I've been glad I bought 'em." + +Parker stopped his amateur cobbling, and looked up. + +"Ye don't mean it!" he said, with rising curiosity. + +"Yes; I'm glad o' the chance to get red o' them. It's worth the money." + +He turned to pick up another twisted root, displaying the patches on his +knees, and the hollowness of his sunken chest. + +"The hell!" commented Parker, softly to himself, with a long, indrawn +whistle. + +"I guess I'll go down to the house," he said aloud, getting up by easy +stages. "I see the cow's pulled up her stake, an' 's r'airn round tryin' +to get to the calf. Mebby Idy'll need some help." + +"She was calc'latin' to move 'er at noon," said Eben, shading his eyes, +and looking toward the house. "It must be 'long toward 'leven now. If +you're goin' down, you'd better stop an' have a bite o' dinner with us." + +"Well, I won't kick if the women folks don't," answered Parker amiably; +"bachin' 's pretty slow. I've eat so much bacon an' beans I dunno +whether I'm a hog or a Boston schoolma'am." + +Arrived at the corral, where the cow stood with uplifted head snuffing +the air, and gazing excitedly at her wild-eyed offspring, his composure +suddenly vanished. Miss Starkweather was holding the stake in one hand, +and winding the rope about her arm with the other. + +"Hello!" she said, with a start, "where on earth 'd you spring from?" + +"I see the cow was loose," ventured Parker, "an' I thought you mightn't +be able to ketch 'er." + +"Well, it wouldn't be fer lack o' practice," responded the girl, with a +wide, good-natured smile. "She's yanked her stake out three times this +mornin', an' come cavin' around here as if she thought somebody wanted +to run away with 'er triflin' little calf. I guess she likes to have me +follerin' 'er 'round." + +"She's got good taste," said Parker gallantly. + +The girl laughed, and struck at him with the iron stake. + +"Oh, taffy!" she said, looking at him coquettishly from under her frizz. +"Ain't you ashamed?" + +"No," said Parker, waxing brave. "Gi' me the stake; mebbe I c'n fasten +'er so she'll stay." + +"You're welcome to try,"--the girl slipped her arm out of the coil of +rope,--"but I don't b'lieve you can, unless you drill a hole in a +boulder, an' wedge the stake in." + +Parker led away the cow, mooing with maternal solicitude, and Idy +returned to the house. When she reached the kitchen door, she turned and +called between the ringing blows of the axe,-- + +"Oh, Mr. Lowe, mother says won't ye come to dinner?" + +"You bet!" answered Parker warmly. + +Mrs. Starkweather sat on the doorstep picking a chicken, which seemed to +develop a prodigious accession of leg and neck in the process. She had +the set, impervious face of a nervous invalid, and her whole attitude, +the downward curve of her mouth, and the elevation of her brows, were +eloquent of injustice. The clammy, half-plucked fowl in her hand seemed +to share her expression of irreparable injury. She allowed her daughter +to climb over her without moving, and when Parker appeared she wiped one +long yellow hand on her apron, and gave it to him in a nerveless grasp. + +"I hope you'll excuse me fer not gettin' up," she drawled; "I guess you +c'n get a-past me. Idy, come an' set a rocker fer Mr. Lowe." + +"I've got my hands in the dough," called her daughter hilariously, from +the pantry; "Mr. Lowe'll have to set on his thumb till I get these +biscuits in the pan." + +Parker's head swam. The domestic familiarity of it all filled him with +ecstasy. He got himself a chair, and inquired solicitously concerning +Mrs. Starkweather's health. + +"Oh, I'm just about the same," complained his hostess; "not down sick, +but gruntin'. Folks that's up an' down like I am don't get nigh as much +sympathy as they 'd ought. I tell Starkweather, well folks like him an' +Idy ain't fittin' comp'ny fer an inv'lid." + +"Mr. Starkweather's lookin' better 'n he did," said Parker, listening +rapturously to the thumps of the rolling-pin in the pantry. "I think +this climate agrees with 'im." + +"Oh, he's well enough," responded Mrs. Starkweather dejectedly, "if he +didn't make 'imself so much extry work. Grubbin' out that vineyard, now! +I can't fer the life o' me see"-- + +"Maw!" called Idy warningly, opening the battened door with a jerk--"you +maw! look out, now!" + +Mrs. Starkweather drooped her mouth, and raised her brows, with a sigh +of extreme and most self-sacrificial virtue. + +"Oh, of course Idy fires up if anybody says anythin' ag'in' 'er fawther. +I guess that's always the way; them that does least fer their fam'lies +always gets the most credit. I think if some folks was thinkin' more +about their dooties an' less about their queer notions, some other folks +wouldn't be laid up with miseries in their backs." + +Having thus modestly obscured herself and her sufferings behind a +plurality of backs, Mrs. Starkweather arose and dragged herself into the +house. + +"Gi' me the chicken," said Idy, slamming her biscuits into the oven, and +taking the hunchbacked and apparently shivering fowl from her mother. "I +ain't a-goin' to have anybody talkin' about pappy, an' you know it. If I +was a man, I'd get even with that lyin' Barden, or I'd know the reason +why." + +"That's just what I was sayin'," returned Mrs. Starkweather, with +malicious meekness. "If your fawther was the man he'd ought to be, he +wouldn't be rode over that way by nobody." + +The girl's face flamed until it seemed that her blonde thatch of hair +would take fire. + +"Pappy ain't to blame," she said angrily; "he can't help thinkin' the +way he does. There ain't no call to be mad with pappy; it's all that +miser'ble, lyin' Barden. It'll be a cold day fer him when I ketch 'im." + +Parker gazed at her admiringly. She had laid the chicken on a corner of +the table, and was vigorously cutting it into pieces, cracking its +bones, and slashing into it with an energy that seemed to her lover +deliciously bloodthirsty and homicidal. + +"Barden's got back from the East," he announced. "I see 'im over t' +Elsmore Saturday, tryin' to peek over the top of his high collar. You'd +ought to seen 'im; he's sweet pretty." + +The girl refused to smile, but the blaze in her cheeks subsided a +little. + +"It's just as well fer him I didn't," she said, whetting her knife on +the edge of a stone jar. "He mightn't be so pretty after I'd got done +lookin' at 'im." + +Parker laughed resoundingly, and the girl's face relaxed a little under +his appreciative mirth. When her father stepped upon the platform at +the kitchen door, she left the frying chicken to hiss and sputter in the +skillet, and went to meet him. + +"Now, pappy," she said, taking hold of him with vigorous tenderness, +"I'll bet you've been workin' too hard. Here, let me fill that basin, +and when you've washed, you come in an' let Mr. Lowe give ye a pointer +on settin' 'round watchin' other folks work." She raised her voice for +Parker's benefit. "He come out here fer his health, an' he's gettin' so +fat an' sassy he has to live by 'imself." + +Parker's appreciation of this brilliant sally seemed to threaten the +underpinning of the kitchen. + +Eben smiled up into his daughter's face as he lathered his hairy hands. + +"I wouldn't make out much at livin' by myself, Idy," he said gently. + +"You ain't goin' to get a chance," rejoined his daughter, rushing back +to her sputtering skillet, and spearing the pieces of chicken +energetically; "you ain't goin' to get red o' me, no matter how sassy +you are; I'm here to stay." + +"Hold on now," warned Parker; "mind what you're sayin'." + +"I know what I'm sayin'," retorted the girl, tossing her head. "I'd just +like to see the man that could coax me away from pappy." + +"You'd like to see 'im, would ye?" roared Parker, slapping his knee. +"Come, now, that's pretty good. Mebbe if you'd look, ye might ketch a +glimpse of 'im settin' 'round som'er's." + +The girl lifted the skillet from the stove, and let the flame flare up +to hide her blushes. + +"He wouldn't be settin' 'round," she asserted indignantly, jabbing the +fire with her fork. "He'd be up an' comin', you c'n bet on that." + +"What's Idy gettin' off now?" drawled Mrs. Starkweather from the other +room. + +"Gettin' off her base," answered Parker jocosely. Nevertheless, the wit +of his inamorata rankled, and after dinner he went with Eben to the barn +to "hitch up." + +"Idy wants to go over to Elsmore this afternoon," said Eben, "an' I +promised to go 'long; but I'd ought to stay with the grubbin'. If you +was calc'latin' to lay off anyhow, mebbe you wouldn't mind the ride. The +broncos hain't been used much sence I commenced on the greasewood, and +I don't quite like to have 'er go alone." + +"She hadn't ought to go alone," broke in Parker eagerly. "That pinto o' +yourn's goin' to kick some o' ye into the middle o' next week, one o' +these days. I was just thinkin' I'd foot it over to the store fer some +bacon. Tell Idy to wait till I run up to the house an' get my gun." + +Idy waited, rather impatiently, and rejected with contempt her escort's +proposal to take the lines. + +"When I'm scared o' this team, I'll let ye know," she informed him, +giving the pinto a cut with the whip that sent his heels into the air. +"If ye don't like my drivin', ye c'n invite yerself to ride with +somebody else. I'm a-doin' this." + +The afternoon was steeped in the warm fragrance of a California spring. +Every crease and wrinkle in the velvet of the encircling hills was +reflected in the blue stillness of the laguna. Patches of poppies blazed +like bonfires on the mesa, and higher up the faint smoke of the +blossoming buckthorn tangled its drifts in the chaparral. Bees droned in +the wild buckwheat, and powdered themselves with the yellow of the +mustard, and now and then the clear, staccato voice of the meadow-lark +broke into the drowsy quiet--a swift little dagger of sound. + +"The barley's headin' out fast." Parker raised his voice above the +rattle of the wagon. "I wished now I'd 'a' put in that piece of +Harrington's." + +"Harvest's a poor time fer wishin'; it's more prof'table 'long about +seedin'-time," said Idy, with a smile that threatened the meshes of her +stylishly drawn veil. + +Parker set one foot on the dashboard, and swung the other out of the +wagon nervously. + +"I do a good deal o' wishin' now that ain't very prof'table--time o' +year don't seem to make much difference," he said plaintively. + +"Well, I guess if I wanted anything I wouldn't wish fer it a _great_ +while--not if I could set to work an' get it." + +The vim of this remark seemed to communicate itself to the pinto through +the tightened rein, and sent him forward with accelerated speed. + +Parker glanced at his companion from under the conical shapelessness of +his old felt hat, but she kept her eyes on the team, and gave him her +jaunty profile behind its tantalizing barrier of meshes and dots. + +"Well, I'll bet if you wanted what I want you'd be 'most afraid to +mention it," he said, reaching down into the tall barley, and jerking up +a handful of the bearded heads. + +"Well, now, I bet I wouldn't." + +"S'posin' I wanted to get married?" + +There was a silence so sudden that it had the effect of an explosion. +Then Miss Starkweather giggled nervously. + +"That's just exactly what I do want," persisted Parker desperately, +turning his toe inward, and kicking the wagon-box. + +There was another disheartening silence. Then the girl's color flamed up +under her rusty lace veil. She turned upon him witheringly. + +"Well, what are ye goin' to do about it? Set 'round and wait till some +girl asks ye?" + +Her voice had a fine sarcastic sting in it. + +Parker whipped his brown overalls with a green barley-head. + +"No; I ain't such a bloomin' idiot as I look." + +"I don't know 'bout that," answered the young woman coolly. + +Parker faced about. + +"Now, look here, Idy," he said; "you'd ought to quit foolin'. You know +what I mean well enough; you're just purtendin'. You know I want to +marry ye." + +"Me!" The girl lifted her brows until they disappeared under the edge of +her much-becurled bang. "Want to marry _me!_ Great Scott!" + +"I don't see why it's great Scott or great anything else," said Parker +doggedly. + +Idy held the reins in her left hand, and smoothed her alpaca lap with +the whip handle, in maiden meditation. + +"Well, I don't know as 't is so very great after all," she said, rubbing +the folds of her dress, and glancing at him in giggling confusion. + +Parker made an experimental motion with his right arm toward the back of +the seat. The girl repelled him dexterously with her elbow. + +"You drop that, Parker Lowe!" she said, with dignity. "I ain't so far +gone as all that. There's that Gonsallies felluh lookin' at us. You just +straighten up, or I'll hit ye a cut with this whip!" + +Her lover gave a short, embarrassed laugh. + +"Oh, come now, Idy; Ricardo don't understand United States." + +"Well, I don't care whether he understands United States or not. I guess +idiots acts about the same in all languages. I'll bet a dollar he +understands what you're up to, anyway; so there." + +She drove on, in rigid perpendicularity, past the adobe ranch-house of +the Gonzales family, and around the curve of the lake-shore, into the +sunshine of the wild mustard that fringed the road. Through it they +could see the pale sheen of the ripening barley-fields, broken here and +there by the darker green of alfalfa. + +As the mustard grew taller and denser, Idy's spine relaxed sufficiently +to permit a covert, conciliatory glance toward her companion's arm, +which hung from the back of the seat in the disappointed attitude it had +assumed at her repulse. + +"I s'pose you think I'm awful touchy," she broke out at last, "an' mebbe +I am; but before I promise to marry anybody, there's two things he's got +to promise _me_--he's got to sign the pledge, an' he's got to get even +with that felluh Barden." + +Parker's face, which had brightened perceptibly at the first +requirement, clouded dismally at the second. + +Idy dropped her chin on the silk handkerchief flaring softly at her +throat, and looked at him deliciously sidewise from under her +overshadowing frizz. + +"I'll promise _any_thing, Idy," he protested, fervently abject. + +Half an hour later they drove into Elsmore with the radiance of their +betrothal still about them, and Idy drove the team up, with a skillful +avoidance of the curb, before the "Live and Let Live Meat-Market." + +"I'm goin' to get some round steak," she said, giving the lines to +Parker, who sprang to the sidewalk, "an' then I'm goin' over to +Saunders's to look at jerseys. You c'n go where you please, but if I see +you loafin' 'round a saloon there'll be a picnic. If you tie the team, +you want to put a halter on the pinto--he's like me, he hates to be +tied; he pulls back. If you hain't got much to do, I think you'd better +make a hitchin'-post of yerself, and not tie 'im." + +She stood up in the wagon, preening her finery, and looking down at her +lover before she gave him her hand. + +"I won't be a hitchin'-post if you hate to be tied," he said, holding +out his hands invitingly. + +As he spoke, the rider of a glittering bicycle glided noiselessly around +the corner, apparently steering straight for Eben's team of ranch-bred +broncos. The pinto snorted wildly, and dashed into the street, jerking +the reins from Parker's hand, and rolling him over in the dust. There +was the customary soothing yell with which civilization always greets a +runaway, and a man sprang from a doorway on the opposite side of the +street, and flung himself in front of the frightened horses. The pinto +reared, but the stranger's hand was on the bridle; a firm and skillful +hand it seemed, for the horses came down on quivering haunches, and then +stood still, striving to look around their blinders in search of the +modern centaur that had terrified them. + +Idy had fallen back into the seat without a word or cry, and sat there +bolt upright, her face so white that it gleamed through the meshes of +her veil. + +"Well," she said, with a long panting breath, "that was a pretty close +call fer kingdom come, wasn't it?" + +The stranger, who was stroking the pinto's nose, and talking to him +coaxingly, laughed. + +"Hello, Park!" he said as the latter came up. "Cold day, wasn't it? Got +your jacket pretty well dusted for once, I guess." + +The crowd that had collected laughed, and two or three bareheaded men +began to examine the harness. While this was in progress, the +livery-stable keeper took a look at the pinto's teeth, and they all +confided liberally in one another as to what they had thought when they +first heard the racket. The young man who had stopped the team left them +in the care of a newcomer, and walked around beside Idy. + +"Won't you come into the office and rest a little?" he asked. + +"Oh, thanks, no," said the girl, with a shuddering, nervous laugh; "I +hain't done nothin' to make _me_ tired. I think you're the one that +ought to take a rest. If it hadn't been fer you I'd been a goner, sure." + +Her rescuer laughed again and turned away, moving his hand involuntarily +toward his head, and discovering that it was bare. The discovery seemed +to amuse him even more highly, and he made two or three strides to where +his hat lay in the middle of the street, and went across to his office, +dusting the hat with long, elaborate flirts of his gayly bordered silk +handkerchief. + +The knot of men began to disperse, and the boys, who lingered longest, +finally straggled away, stifling their regret that no one was mangled +beyond recognition. Parker climbed into the wagon, and drove over to +Saunders's store. + +"I don't know as I'd better buy a jersey to-day," giggled Idy, as she +stepped from the wagon to the elevated wooden sidewalk. "I'm afraid it +won't fit. I feel as if I'd been scared out o' ten years' growth." + + +IV. + +As they drove home in the chill, yellow evening, Idy turned to her +lover, and asked abruptly,-- + +"Who was that felluh?" + +"What felluh?" + +"The young felluh with the sandy _mus_tache, the one that stopped the +team." + +Parker's manner had been evasive from the first, but at this the +evasiveness became a highly concentrated unconcern. He looked across the +lake, and essayed a yawn with feeble success. + +"There was a good many standin' around when I got there. What sort o' +lookin' felluh was he?" + +"I just told ye; with a sandy mustache, short, and middlin' heavy set." + +"Sh-h-h!" said Parker, reaching for his gun. Idy stopped the horses. + +A bronze ibis arose from the tules at the water's edge, and flapped +slowly westward, its pointed wings and hanging feet dripping with the +gold of the sunset. Parker laid down his gun. + +"What did you want to shoot at that thing fer?" asked Idy. "They ain't +fit to eat." + +"The wings is pretty. I thought you might like another feather in your +cap." + +The girl gave him a look of radiant contempt, and he spoke again +hurriedly, anxious to prevent a relapse in the conversation. + +"You was sayin' somethin' to-day about signin' the pledge, Idy: I've +been layin' off to sign the pledge this good while. The next time +there's a meetin' of the W. X. Y. Z. women, you fetch on one o' their +pledges, an' I'll put my fist to it." + +"W. C. T. U.," corrected Idy, with emphasis. + +"All right; W. C. T. me, if that suits you any better. It's a long time +since I learned my letters, an' I get 'em mixed. But I've made up my +mind on the teetotal business, and don't ye forget it." + +"There ain't any danger of _me_ forgettin' it," said the young woman +significantly. "What ye goin' to do about that other business?" she +added, turning her wide eyes upon him abruptly--"about gettin' even with +that cheatin' Barden?" + +They had driven into the purple shadow of the mountains, and Parker +seemed to have left his enthusiasm behind him with the sunlight. + +"I don't know," he said gloomily. "Do ye want me to kill 'im?" + +"_Kill_ him!" sneered the girl; "I want ye _to get even with 'im_! +'Tain't no great trick to kill a man; any fool can do that. I want ye to +get ahead of 'im!" + +She glowed upon him in angry magnificence. + +"Idy," said her lover, sidling toward her tenderly, "when you flare up +that a-way, you mustn't expect me to think about Barden. You look just +pretty 'nough to eat!" + + +V. + +A week later Eben began grubbing out the vineyard. The weather turned +suddenly warm, and the harvest was coming on rapidly. Parker Lowe had +gone to Temecula with Mose Doolittle, who was about to purchase a +machine, presumably feminine, which they both referred to familiarly as +"she," and styled more formally "a second-hand steam-thrasher." It was +Monday, and Idy was putting the week's washing through the wringer with +a loud vocal accompaniment of gospel hymn. + +Eben had worked steadily since sunrise. The vines were young, and the +ground was not heavy, but the day was warm, and he wielded the mattock +rapidly, stooping now and then to jerk out a refractory root with his +hands. An hour before noon his daughter saw him coming through the +apricot orchard, walking wearily, with his soiled handkerchief pressed +to his lips. The girl's voice lost its song abruptly, and then broke out +again in a low, faltering wail. She bounded across the warm plowed +ground to his side. + +"Pappy! O pappy!" she cried, breathing wildly, "what is it? Tell me, +can't you, pappy?" + +The little man smiled at her with his patient eyes, and shook his head. +She put her hand under his elbow, and walked beside him, her arm across +his shoulders, her tortured young face close to his. When they reached +the kitchen door he sank down on the edge of the platform, resting his +head on his hand. The girl took off his weather-beaten hat, and +smoothed the wet hair from his forehead. + +"O pappy! Poor, little, sweet old pappy!" she moaned, rubbing her cheek +caressingly on his bowed head. + +Eben took the handkerchief from his lips, and she started back, crying +out piteously as she saw it stained with blood. He looked up at her, a +gentle, tremulous smile twitching his beard. + +"Don't--tell--your--maw," he said, putting out his hand feebly. + +The words seemed to recall her. She went hurriedly into the house and +close to the lounge where her mother was lying. + +"Maw," she said quickly, "you must get up! Pappy's got a hem'ridge. I +want you to help me to get 'im to bed, an' then I'm goin' fer a doctor." + +The woman got up, and followed her daughter eagerly. + +"Why, Eben!" she said, when they reached the kitchen door. Her voice was +almost womanly; and a real anxiety seemed to have penetrated her +hysterical egoism. + +They got him to bed tenderly, and propped him up among the white +pillows. His knotted hands lay on the coverlet, gray and bloodless +under the stains of hard work. Idy bent over him, tucking him in with +little pats and crooning moans of sympathy. When she had finished, she +dropped her wet cheek against his beard. + +"I'm goin' fer the doctor, pappy," she whispered; "I won't be gone but a +little while,"--then rushed down the path to the stable, and flung the +harness on the pinto. + +The buggy was standing in the shed, and she caught the shafts and +dragged it out with superabundant energy, as if her anxiety found relief +in the exertion. A few minutes later she drove out between the rows of +pallid young eucalyptus-trees that led to the road, leaning eagerly +forward, her young face white and set beneath the row of knobby +protuberances that represented the morning stage of her much cherished +bang. It was thus that she drove into Elsmore, the rattling of the old +buggy and the spots of lather on the pinto's sides exciting a ripple of +curiosity, which furnished its own solution in the fact that it was +"that there Starkweather girl," who was generally conceded to be "a +great one." + +She stopped her panting horse before the doctor's office, and sprang +out. + +"Are you the doctor?" she asked breathlessly, standing on the threshold, +with one hand on each side of the casing. + +A man in his shirt-sleeves, who was writing at the desk, turned and +looked at her. It was the same man who had prevented the runaway. He +began to smile, but the girl's stricken face stopped him. + +"Dr. Patterson has gone to the tin-mine," he said, getting up and coming +forward; "he will not be home till to-morrow." + +Idy grasped the casing so tightly that her knuckles shone white and +polished. + +"My fawther's got a hem'ridge," she said, swallowing after the words. "I +don't know what on earth to do." + +"A hemorrhage!" said the young man with kindly sympathy. "Well, now, +don't be too much alarmed, Miss--" + +"Starkweather," quavered Idy. + +"Starkweather? Oh, it's Mr. Starkweather. Why, he's a friend of mine. +And so you're his daughter. Well, you mustn't be too much alarmed. I've +had a great many hemorrhages myself, and I'm good for twenty years +yet." He had taken his coat from a nail at the back of the room, and was +putting it on hurriedly. "Prop him up in bed, and don't let him talk, +and give him a spoonful of salt-and-water now and then. My horse is +standing outside, and I'll go right down to Maravilla and fetch a +doctor. I'll come up on the other side of the lake, and get there almost +as soon as you do--let me help you into your buggy. And drive right on +home, and don't worry." + +He had put on his hat, and they stood on the sidewalk together. + +Idy made a little impulsive stoop toward him, as if she would have taken +him in her arms. + +"Oh!" she gasped, her eyes swimming, and her chin working painfully; "I +just think you're the very best man I ever saw in all my life!" + +A moment later she saw him driving a tall black horse toward the lake at +a speed that brought her the first sigh of relief she had known, and +made her put up her hand suddenly to her forehead. + +"Good gracious me!" she exclaimed under her breath--"if I didn't forget +to take down my crimps!" + +Two or three times as she drove home through the warm odors of the +harvest noon her anxiety was invaded by the recollection of this man, to +whose promptness and decision her own vigorous nature responded with a +strong sense of liking; and this liking did not suffer any abatement +when he came into her father's sick-room with the doctor, and the +invalid looked at the stranger, and then at her, with a faint, troubled +smile. + +"Don't try to speak, Mr. Starkweather," said the visitor cheerfully; +"I've made your daughter's acquaintance already. We want you to give +your entire attention to getting well, and let us do the talking." + +He went out of the room, and strolled about the place while the doctor +made his call, and when it was over he went around to the kitchen, where +Idy was kindling a fire, and said:-- + +"Doctor Patterson thinks your father will be all right in a day or so, +Miss Starkweather. Be careful to keep him quiet. I'm going to drive +around to the station, so the doctor can catch the evening train, and +save my driving him down to Maravilla; and I'll go on over to Elsmore +and get this prescription filled, and bring the medicine back to you. Is +there anything else you'd like from town--a piece of meat to make +beef-tea, or anything?" + +"Well, I wouldn't mind much if you _would_ bring me a piece of beef," +said Idy, pausing with a stick of redwood kindling across her knee. Then +she dropped it, and came forward. "We're _ever_ so much obliged to +ye--pappy 'n' all of us. Seem 's if you always turn up. I think you've +been just awful good and kind--an' us strangers, too." + +"Oh, you're not strangers," laughed the young man, lifting his hat; +"I've known your father ever since he came." + +He went around the house, and got into the cart with the doctor. +"Starkweather's a crank," he said, as they drove off, "but he's the kind +of crank that makes you wish you were one yourself. When I see a man +like that going off with consumption, and a lot of loafers getting so +fat they crowd each other off the store boxes, I wonder what Providence +is thinking of." + +"He works too hard," growled the doctor, with the savagery of science. +"What can Providence do with a man who grubs greasewood when he ought to +be in bed!" + +It was moonlight when the stranger returned, and handed the packages to +Idy at the kitchen door. + +"Pappy's asleep," she whispered, in answer to his inquiries; "he seems +to be restin' easy." + +"Is there no one about the place but yourself and mother, Miss +Starkweather?" + +Idy shook her head. + +"Well, then, if you don't mind, I think I will put my horse in the barn, +and sleep in the shed here, on the hay. If you should need any one in +the night, you can call me. I haven't an idea but that your father will +be all right, but it's a little more comfortable to have some one within +call." + +"Well," said Idy, dropping her hands at her sides, and looking at him in +admiring bewilderment, "if you ain't just-- Have you had anythin' to +eat?" she broke off, with sudden hospitality. + +"Oh yes, thank you; I had dinner at Elsmore," laughed the young man, +backing out into the shadow. "Good-night." + +Half a minute later she followed him down the walk, carrying a heavy +blanket over her arm. He had led his horse to the water-trough, and the +moonlight shone full upon him as he stood with one arm thrown over the +glossy creature's neck. + +"I brought you this here blanket, Mr.--" + +"Barden," supplied the young man, carelessly. + +Idy sank back against the corral fence as if she were stunned. + +"Barden!" she repeated helplessly. "Is your name Barden?" + +"Yes." + +She stood breathless a moment, and then burst out:-- + +"An' you're him! _you_--an' doin' this way, after the way you've +done--an' him sick--an' me talkin' to ye--an'--an'--everything!" + +The two torrents of hate and gratitude had met, and were whirling her +about wildly. + +The young man pushed his hat back on his head, and stared at her in +sturdy, unflinching amazement. + +"My dear young lady, what on earth do you mean?" he asked quietly. + +"I mean that I didn't know that you was _him_--the man that sold my +father this place, an' lied to him about the vineyard--told him they was +raisin-grapes, an' they wasn't--an' you knowed he was a temp'rance man, +a prohibitionist. An' him tryin' to grub 'em out, an' gettin' sick--an' +bein' so patient, an' never hurtin' nobody--" she ended in a wild, +angry sob that seemed to swallow up her voice. + +"Miss Starkweather," said the young fellow steadily, "I certainly did +sell this place to your father, and if I told him anything about the +vineyard I most certainly told him they were raisin-grapes; and upon my +soul I thought they _were_. Aren't they?" + +"No," sobbed Idy, "they ain't; they're wine-grapes! He was grubbin' 'em +out to-day. That's what hurt 'im--I'm afraid he'll die!" + +"You mustn't be afraid of that. Dr. Patterson says he will get better. +But we must see that he doesn't do any more grubbing. When Slater gave +me this for sale," he went on, as if he were reflecting aloud, "he said +there were ten acres of vineyard. I can't swear that he told me what the +vines were, or that I asked him. But it never occurred to me that any +man--even an Englishman--would plant ten acres of wine-grapes when there +wasn't a winery within fifty miles of him." + + +VI. + +Parker Lowe borrowed one of Mose Doolittle's mules Monday evening, and +rode from Temecula to Jake Levison's saloon at Maravilla. It was +understood when he left the thresher's camp that he would probably "make +a night of it," and Mose gave him a word of friendly warning and advice. + +"You want to remember, Park, that the old man is down on the flowing +bowl; an' from what I've heard of the family I think it'll pay you to +keep yourself solid with the old man." + +"I'm a-goin' up to the drug-store to get some liniment for Dave +Montgomery's lame shoulder," returned Parker, with a knowing wink at +his companion, as he flung himself into the saddle; "but I hain't signed +no pledge yet--not by a jugful," he called back, as the mule jolted +lazily down the road. + +It was a warm night, and half a dozen loafers were seated on empty +beer-kegs in front of Levison's door when Parker rode up. Levison got +up, and began to disengage himself from the blacksmith's story as he saw +the newcomer dismount; but the blacksmith raised his voice insistently. + +"'There don't no dude tell me how to pare a hoof,' says I; 'I'll do it +my way, or I don't do it;' an' I done it, an' him kickin' like a steer +all the time"-- + +"Who?" asked one of the other men. + +"Barden." + +"What was he doin' down here?" + +"He came down for Doc Patterson. That teetotal wreck on the west side o' +the lake took a hem'ridge--I furget his name, somethin'-weather: pretty +dry weather, judgin' from what I hear." + +"Starkweather?" + +"Yes, Starkweather; I guess he's pretty low." + +Parker started back to the post where his mule was tied. Then he turned +and looked into the saloon. Levison had gone in and was wiping off the +counter expectantly. + +"It won't take but a minute," he apologized to himself. + +It took a good many minutes, however, and by the time the minutes +lengthened into hours Parker had ceased to apologize to himself, and +insisted upon taking the by-standers into his confidence. + +"I'm--I'm goin' to sign the pledge," he said, with an unsteady wink, +"an' then I'm goin' to get merried,--yes, sir, boys; rattlin' nice girl, +too,--'way up girl, temperance girl. But there's many a cup 'twixt the +slip and the lip--ain't there, boys? Yes, sir, 'twixt the cup and the +slip--yes, sir--yes, sir--ee." Then his reflections driveled off into +stupor, and he sat on an empty keg with the conical crown of his old +felt hat pointed forward, and his hands hanging limply between his +knees. + +When Levison was ready to leave he stirred Parker up with his foot, and +helped him to mount his mule. The patient creature turned its head +homeward. + +It was after daybreak when Parker rode into the Starkweather ranch, and +presented himself at the kitchen door. The night air had sobered him, +but it had done nothing more. Idy was standing by the stove with her +back toward him. She turned when she heard his step. + +"Why, Park!" she said, with a start; then she put up her hand. "Don't +make a noise. Pappy's sick." + +He came toward her hesitatingly. + +"So I heard down at Maravilla last night, Idy." + +Her face darkened. + +"And you been all night gettin' here?" + +He bent over her coaxingly. + +"Well, you see, Idy"-- + +The girl pushed him away with both hands, and darted back out of reach. + +"Parker Lowe," she said, with a gasp, "you've been drinkin'!" + +Parker hung his head sullenly. + +"No, I hain't," he muttered; "not to speak of. Whose horse is that out +'n the corral?" + +The girl looked at him witheringly. + +"I don't know as it's any of your pertic'lar business, but I don't mind +tellin' you that horse b'longs to _a gentleman_!" + +"A gentleman," sneered Parker. + +"Yes, _a gentleman_; if you don't know what that is you'd better look in +the dictionary. You won't find out by lookin' in the lookin'-glass, I +can tell you that." + +"Oh, come now, Idy, you hadn't ought to be so mad; I hadn't signed the +pledge yet." + +He took a step toward her. The girl put out her hands warningly, and +then clasped her arms about herself with a shudder. + +"Don't you come near me, Parker Lowe," she gasped. "What do I care about +the pledge! Didn't you _tell_ me you'd stop drinkin'? Won't a man that +tells lies with his tongue tell 'em with his fingers? Do you suppose I'd +marry a man that 'u'd come to me smellin' of whiskey, an' _him_ lyin' +sick in there? Can't you see that he's worth ten thousand such folks as +you an' me? I don't want a man that can't see that! I'm done with you, +Parker Lowe,"--her voice broke into a dry sob; "I want you to go away +and stay away! It ain't the drinkin'--it's _him_--can't you understand?" + +And Parker, as he climbed toward his lonesome cabin, understood. + + + + +THE COMPLICITY OF ENOCH EMBODY. + + +I. + +The afternoon train wound through the waving barley-fields of the +Temecula Valley and shrieked its approach to the town of Muscatel. It +was a mixed train, and half a dozen passengers alighted from the rear +coach to stretch their legs while the freight was being unloaded. + +Enoch Embody stood on the platform with the mail-bag in his hand, and +listened to their time-worn pleasantries concerning the population of +the city and the probable cause of the failure of the electric cars to +connect with the train. + +Enoch was an orthodox Friend. There was a hint of orthodoxy all over his +thin, shaven countenance, except at the corners of his mouth, where it +melted into the laxest liberality. + +A swarthy young man, with a deep scar across his cheek, swung himself +from the platform of the smoking-car, and came toward him. + +"Is there a stopping-place in this burg?" he called out gayly. + +"Thee'll find a hotel up the street on thy right," said Enoch. + +The stranger looked at him curiously. + +"By gum, you're a Quaker," he broke out, slapping Enoch's thin, high +shoulder. "I haven't heard a 'thee' or a 'thou' since I was a kid. It's +good for earache. Wait till I get my grip." + +He darted into the little group of men and boys, who were listening with +the grim appreciation of the rural American to the badinage of the +conductor and the station agent, and emerged with a satchel and a roll +of blankets. + +"Now, uncle, I'm ready. Shall we take the elevated up to the city?" he +asked, smiling with gay goodfellowship up into Enoch's mild, austere +face. + +The old man threw the mail-bag across his shoulder. + +"I'll take thee as far as the store. Thee can see most of the city from +there." + +The young fellow laughed noisily, and hooked his arm through his +companion's gaunt elbow. Enoch glanced down at the grimy, broken-nailed, +disreputable hand on his arm, and a faint flush showed itself under the +silvery stubble on his cheeks. + +"By gum, this town's a daisy," said the stranger, sniffing the +honey-laden breeze appreciatively and glancing out over the sea of wild +flowers that waved and shimmered under the California sun; "nice quiet +little place--eh?" + +"Thee hears all the noise there is," answered Enoch gravely. + +The young fellow gave a yell of delight and bent over as if the shaft of +Enoch's wit had struck him in some vital part. Then he disengaged his +arm and writhed in an agony of mirth. + +"Holy Moses!" he gasped, "that's good. Hit 'im again, uncle." + +Enoch stood still and looked at him, a mild, contemptuous sympathy +twinkling in his blue eyes. + +"Is thee looking for a quiet place?" he asked. + +The newcomer reduced his hilarity to an intermittent chuckle, and +resumed his affectionate grasp on Enoch's arm. + +"That's about the size of it, uncle. I've knocked around a good deal, +and I'm suffering from religious prostration. I'm looking for a nice, +quiet, healthy place to take a rest--to recooperate my morals, so to +speak. Good climate, good water, good society. Everything they don't +have in--some places. What's the city tax on first-class residence +property close in?" + +"I think thee'll find it within thy means," said Enoch dryly. "Has thee +a family?" + +"Well, you might say--yes," rejoined the stranger, "that is, I'm +married. My wife's not very well. I want to build a seven by nine +residence on a fashionable street and send for her. I'm going to draw up +the plans and specifications and bid on the contract myself, and I think +by rustling the foreman I can get everything but the telephone and the +hot water in before she gets here. Relic of the ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay?" he +asked, pointing to a vacant store building across the grass-grown +street; "or bought up by the government, maybe, to keep out competition +in the post-office business--hello, is this where you hang out?" + +Enoch turned into the combined store and post-office, and the stranger +stood on the platform, bestowing his tobacco-stained smile generously +upon the bystanders. + +"Thee'll find the hotel a little further up the street," said Enoch; +"there may be no one about; I think I saw Isaac and Esther Penthorn +driving toward Maravilla this afternoon. But they'll be back before +dark. Thee can make thyself at home." + +"You're right I can," assented the newcomer with emphasis; "I see you've +caught on to my disposition. Isaac and Esther will find me as domestic +as a lame cat. Be it ever so homely there's no place like hum. By-by, +uncle; see you later." + +He went up the street, walking as jauntily as his burden would permit, +and Enoch looked after with a lean, whimsical smile. + +"Thee seems to have a good deal of cheek," he reflected, as he emptied +the mail-bag, "but thee's certainly cheerful." + + +II. + +Within a week every resident of Muscatel had heard the sound of Jerry +Sullivan's voice. It arose above the ring of his hammer as he worked at +the pine skeleton of his shanty, and the sage-laden breeze from the +mountains seemed a strange enough vehicle for the questionable +sentiments of his song. New and startling variations of street songs, +and other unfamiliar melodies came to Enoch's ears as he distributed the +mail, or held the quart measure under the molasses barrel, and +occasionally the singer himself dropped in to make a purchase and chat a +few moments with the postmaster concerning the progress of his house. + +"The architect has rather slopped over on the plans," he said, when the +frame was up, "so I'm putting up a Queen Anne wood-shed for the present, +while he knocks a few bay windows out of the conservatory. 'A penny +saved 's a penny earned,' you know. That's the way I came to be a +millionaire--stopped drinking in my infancy and learned to chew, saved a +rattleful of nickels before I could walk--got any eighteen-carat nails, +uncle? I want to do a little finishing-work in the bath-room." + +Enoch met his new friend's trifling, always with the same gentle +gravity; but something, perhaps that lurking liberality about the +corners of his mouth, seemed to inspire the young fellow with implicit +confidence in the old man's sympathy. + +After the frame of Jerry's domicile was inclosed, a prodigious sawing +and hammering went on inside the redwood walls, and the bursts of music +were spasmodic, indicating a closer attention on the part of the workman +to nicety of detail in his work. He called to Enoch as he was passing +one day, and drew him inside the door mysteriously. + +"Take a divan, uncle," he said airily, pushing a three-legged stool +toward his guest. "I've got something to show you,--something that's +been handed up to me from posterity. How does that strike you for a +starter in the domestic business?" + +He drew forward an empty soap-box, fashioned into an old-time cradle, +and fitted with rude rockers at the ends. + +"Happy thought--eh?" he rattled on, gleefully pointing to the stenciled +end, where everything but "Pride of the Family" had been carefully +erased. "How's this for a proud prospective paternal?" + +He balanced himself on one foot and rocked the little craft, with all +its cargo of pathetic emptiness, gently to and fro. + +Enoch's face quivered as if he had been stabbed. + +The young fellow stepped back and surveyed his handiwork with jaunty +satisfaction. + +"I made that thing just as a bird builds its nest--by paternal instinct. +It's a little previous, and I'd just as soon you wouldn't mention it; +but I had to show it to somebody. Got any children?" he turned upon +Enoch suddenly. + +"No. Not any--living." + +The old man's voice wavered, and caught itself on the last word. + +Jerry thrust the cradle aside hastily. + +"Neither have I, uncle, neither have I," he said; "not chick nor child. +If you ain't too tired, let me show you over the house. I'm sorry the +elevator isn't running, so you could go up to the cupolo. This room's a +sort of e pluribus unum, many in one; kind of a boodwar and kitchen +combined. The other rooms ain't inclosed yet, but they're safe enough +outside. That's the advantage of this climate, you don't have to put +everything under cover. Ground-plan suit you pretty well?" + +"I think thee's very cosy," Enoch said, smiling gravely; "when does thee +look for thy wife?" + +"Just as soon as she's able," said Jerry, drawing an empty nail-keg +confidentially toward Enoch and seating himself; "you see"-- + +He stopped short. The cradle behind the old man was still rocking +gently. + +"I guess it won't be very long," he added indifferently. + + +III. + +The south-bound train was late, and the few loafers who found their +daily excitement in its arrival had drifted away as it grew dark, +leaving no one but Enoch on the platform. When the train whistled the +station agent opened the office door and his kerosene lamp sent a shaft +of light out into the darkness. + +There was the usual noisy banter among the trainmen, and none of them +seemed to notice the woman who alighted from the platform of the +passenger coach and came toward Enoch. + +She stood in the light of the doorway, so that the old man could see her +tawdry dress and the travel-dimmed red and white of her painted face. + +"Is there a man named Jerry Sullivan livin' in this town?" she asked. + +Enoch was conscious of a vague disappointment. + +"Yes," he said, half reluctantly, "he lives here. I suppose thee's his +wife." + +The woman looked at him curiously. Then she laughed. + +"Yes, I suppose I am," she said; "can you show me where he lives?" + +"I can't show thee very well in the dark, but it isn't far. If thee'll +wait a minute, I'll take thy satchel and go with thee." + +He brought the mail-bag and picked up the stranger's valise. + +"Thy husband's been looking for thee," he said, as they went along the +path that led across a vacant lot to the street. + +The woman did not reply at once. She seemed intent upon gathering her +showy skirts out of the dust. When she spoke, her voice trembled on the +verge of a laugh. + +"That so? I've been lookin' for him, too. Thought I'd give him a +pleasant surprise." + +"He's got his house about finished." + +The woman stopped in the path. + +"His house," she sneered; "he must be rattled if he thinks I'll live in +a place like this--forty miles from nowhere." + +They walked on in silence after that to the door of Jerry's shanty. +There was a light inside, and the smell of cooking mingled with the +resinous odor of the new lumber. Jerry was executing a difficult passage +in a very light opera to the somewhat trying accompaniment of frying +ham. The solo stopped abruptly when Enoch knocked. + +"Come in," shouted the reckless voice of the singer, "let the good +angels come in, come in!" + +Enoch opened the door. + +"Good-evening, Jerry," he said gravely; "here is thy wife." + +The young fellow crossed the floor at a bound with a smile that stayed +on his face after every vestige of joy had died out of it. + +The woman gave him a coarse, triumphant stare. + +"I heard you was lookin' for me," she said, with a chuckle, "but you +seemed kind o' s'prised after all." + +Jerry stood perfectly still, with his hands at his sides. Behind him, +where the light fell full upon it, Enoch could see the cradle. The old +man placed the satchel on the step. + +"I must go back and attend to the mail," he said, disappearing in the +darkness. + +A few hours later, just as Enoch had fitted the key in the store door +and turned down the kerosene lamp, preparatory to blowing it out, Jerry +appeared in the doorway. + +"I've got to go away on the early train," he said, in a dull, husky +voice; "she's going with me. I don't know how long I'll be gone, and I +thought I'd like to leave the key of the house with you, if it won't be +too much trouble." + +"It won't be any trouble, Jerry. I'll take care of it for thee," said +Enoch. + +The hand that held out the key seemed to Enoch to be stretched toward +him across a chasm. He felt a yearning disgust for the man on the other +side. + +Jerry walked across the platform hesitatingly, and then came back. + +"Would you mind locking up and coming outside, Mr. Embody?" he asked +humbly; "I'd like to have a little talk with you." + +Enoch blew out the lamp and closed the door and locked it. He felt a +physical shrinking from the moral squalor into which he was being +dragged. + +"What is it, Jerry?" he asked kindly. + +"I've been thinking," said the young man hurriedly, and in the same +level, monotonous voice, "that families sometimes come to these new +places without having any house ready, and of course it's a good deal of +expense for them to board, and I just wanted to say to you that if any +person--well, say a widow with a b--family--I wouldn't care to help a +man that could rustle for himself--but a woman, you know, if she's not +very strong, and has a--a--family--why, I'd just as soon you'd let her +have the house, and you needn't say anything about the rent: I'll fix +that when I come back. I haven't been to church and put anything in the +collection since I've been here,"--his voice gave a suggestion of the +old ring, and then fell back drearily,--"so I thought I'd hand you what +I'd saved up, and you can use it for charitable purposes--groceries and +little things that people might need, coming in without anything to +start." + +He handed Enoch a roll of money, and the old man put it into his pocket. + +"I'll remember what thee says, Jerry. If any worthy family comes along, +I'll see that they do not want." + +"If I can, I'll send you a little now and then," the young fellow went +on more cheerfully, "but I'd just as soon you wouldn't mention it. I'll +be back sometime, there's no doubt about that, but I can't say just +when. You can tell the folks that my--my wife," he choked on the word, +"didn't feel satisfied here. She thinks it won't agree with her. And I +guess it won't, she's very bad off"--he turned away lingeringly, and +then came back. "About the--the--crib," he faltered, "if they happen to +have a baby, I wouldn't mind them using it. Babies are pretty generally +respectable, no matter what their folks are. I _was_ calculating," he +went on wistfully, "to get another box and hunt up some wheels, and I +thought maybe they could rig it up with a pink parasol and use it to +cart the baby 'round; you know if a woman isn't very strong, it might +save her a good deal--but then it's too late now;" he turned away +hopelessly. + +"I guess I can manage that for thee, Jerry," said Enoch; "I'm rather +handy with tools. Thee needn't worry." + +The two men stood still a moment in the moonlight. + +"Good-by, Mr. Embody," said Jerry. + +He did not put out his hand. Enoch hesitated a little. + +"Farewell," he said, and his voice was not quite natural. + +The next morning, when Enoch opened the outside letter-box to postmark +the mail that had been dropped into it after the store was closed the +night before, he found but one letter. It was addressed to Mrs. Josie +Hart Sullivan, Pikeboro, Mo + + +IV. + +"Are you the postmaster?" + +Enoch dropped the tin scoop into the sugar-bin, and turned around. The +voice was timid, almost appealing, and Enoch glanced from the pale, +girlish face that confronted him to the bundle in her arms. + +There was no mistaking the bundle. It was of that peculiar bulky +shapelessness which betokens a very small infant. + +"Yes, I'm the postmaster," answered Enoch kindly; "is there anything I +can do for thee?" + +The young creature looked down, and a faint color came into her +transparent face. + +"I've just come in on the train," she faltered. "I thought you might be +able to tell me where to go. I haven't very much money. I was sick on +the way, and spent more than I expected. I--I"--she hesitated, and +glanced at Enoch with a little expectant gasp. + +"Is thee alone?" inquired the old man. + +"Yes. That is--only Baby. My husband has just--just"--her voice +fluttered and died away helplessly. + +"Oh, thee's a widow," said Enoch gently. + +"Yes." The poor young thing looked up with a smile of wistful gratitude. +"I'm not very strong. I heard this was a healthy place. They thought it +would be good for us--Baby and me. I'm Mrs. Josie Hart. Baby's name is +Gerald." + +"Would thee be afraid to stay in a house alone?" inquired Enoch +thoughtfully. + +The stranger gave him a look of gentle surprise. + +"Why, no, of course not--not with Baby; he's so much company." + +There was a note of profound compassion for his masculine ignorance in +her young voice. + +The old man's mouth quivered into a smile. He went to the back of the +room, and took a key from a nail. + +"I think I can find thee a real cosy little place," he said; "shan't I +carry the baby for thee?" + +She hesitated, and looked up into his solemn, kindly face. Then she held +the precious bundle toward him. + +"I guess I'll have to let you. I didn't really know it till I got here, +but I begin to feel, oh! so awful tired," she said, with a long, sighing +breath, as Enoch folded his gaunt arms about the baby. + +They went up the street together, and Enoch unlocked Jerry's house and +showed the stranger in. She walked straight across the room to the +cradle. When she turned around her eyes were swimming. + +"Oh, I think it's just _lovely_ here," she said; "I feel better already. +This is such a nice little house, and so many wild flowers everywhere, +and they smell so sweet--I _know_ Baby will like it." + +She relieved Enoch of his burden and laid it on the bed. + +The old man lingered a little. + +"Thee needn't worry about provisions or anything," he said hesitatingly; +"some of the neighbors will come in and help thee get started. Thee'll +want to rest now. I guess I'll be going." + +"Oh, you mustn't go without seeing Baby!" insisted the young mother, +beginning to unswathe the shapeless bundle on the bed. + +Enoch moved nearer, and waited until the tiny crumpled bud of a face +appeared among the wrappings. + +"_Isn't_ he sweet?" pleaded the girl rapturously. + +Enoch bent over and gazed into the quaint little sleeping countenance. + +"He's a very nice baby," he said, with gentle emphasis. + +"And _so_ good," the girl-voice rippled on; "he never cried but once on +the way out here, and that time I didn't blame him one bit; I wanted to +cry myself,--we were so hot and tired and dusty. But he sleeps--oh, the +way he _does_ sleep. There! did you notice him smile? I think he knows +my voice. He often smiles that way when I am talking to him." + +She caught him out of his loosened sheath and held him against her +breast with the look on her face that has baffled the art of so many +centuries. + +It was thus that Enoch remembered her as he went down the street to the +store. + +"I would have taken her right home to Rachel," he said to himself, "but +women folks sometimes ask a good many unnecessary questions, and the +poor thing is tired." + + +V. + +So the little widow and her baby became the wards of the town of +Muscatel. After one or two unsuccessful attempts to learn the +particulars of her husband's last illness, the good women of the place +decided that her bereavement was too recent to be made a subject of +conversation. + +The baby, on the contrary, being a topic all the more absorbing by +reason of its newness, they held long and enthusiastic conferences with +the young mother concerning his care, clothing, and diet. With that +gentle receptivity which makes some natures the defenseless targets of +advice, the inefficient little mother felt herself at times between the +upper and the nether millstones of condensed milk and Caudle's food, but +her weak, appealing face always brightened into tremulous delight when +the rival factions united, as they invariably did, on the subject of the +baby's undoubted precocity in the matter of "noticing." + +Enoch was called in many times to give counsel which seemed to gain from +his masculinity what it might be supposed to lack by reason of his +ignorance concerning the ailments and accomplishments of the small +stranger who held the heart of the community in his tiny purple fist. It +was to Enoch that the young mother brought her small woes, and it was +with Enoch that she left them. + +The song of the hay-balers and the whir of the threshing-machine had +died out of the valley, and the raisin-making had come on. The trays +were spread in the vineyards, and the warm white air was filled with the +fruity smell of the grapes, browning and sweetening beneath the October +sun. + +One drowsy afternoon Enoch was in the back room of the store, weighing +barley and marking the weight on the sacks. Suddenly there was a quick +step, and a voice in the outer room, and the old man turned slowly, with +the brush in his hand, and confronted a man in the doorway. + +"Jerry!" + +"Yes, uncle, here I am; slightly disfigured, but still in the ring. +How's the market? Long on barley, I see. I"--he broke off suddenly, and +assumed an air of the deepest dejection. "I've had a great deal of +trouble since I saw you, uncle. I've lost my wife." + +He turned to the window and pretended to look through the cobwebbed +glass. + +"She went off very sudden, but she was conscious to the last." + +Enoch stood still and slowly stirred the paint in the paint-pot until +his companion turned and caught the glance of his keen blue eye. + +"Does thee think she will stay lost, Jerry?" he asked quietly. + +The young fellow came close to Enoch's side. + +"You bet," he said, with low, husky intensity; "the law settled that. +She was a cursed fraud anyway," he went on, with hurrying wrath; "she +ran away with--I thought she was dead--I'll swear by"-- + +"Thee needn't swear, Jerry," interrupted Enoch quietly; "if thy word is +good for nothing, thy blasphemy will not help it any." + +The young man's face relaxed. There was a little silence. + +"Has thee been up to thy house?" asked Enoch presently. + +"Yes, yes," said Jerry lightly; "I dropped right in on the family +circle. The widow seems to be a nice, tidy little person, and the +kid--did you ever see anything to beat that kid, uncle?" + +Enoch had been appealed to on this subject before. + +"He's a very nice baby," he said gravely. + +"They seem to be settled rather comfortably, and I guess I'll get a tent +and pitch it on some of these vacant lots, and not disturb them. The +little woman isn't really well enough to move, and besides, the kid +might kick if he had to give up the cradle; perfect fit, isn't it?" + + * * * * * + +"Enoch," said Rachel Embody to her husband, as they drove their +flea-bitten gray mare to the Friends' meeting on First Day, "what does +thee think of Jerry Sullivan and the widow Hart marrying as they did? +Doesn't thee think it was a little sudden for both of them?" + +Enoch slapped the lines on the gray's callous back. + +"I don't know, Rachel," he said; "there are some subjects which I do not +find profitable for reflection." + + + + +EM. + + +I. + +Mrs. Wickersham helped her son from his bed to a chair on the porch, and +spread a patchwork quilt over his knees when he was seated. + +"Don't you want something to put your feet on, Benny?" she asked +anxiously, with that hunger for servitude with which women persecute +their male sick. + +The invalid looked down at his feet helplessly, and then turned his eyes +toward the stretch of barley-stubble below the vineyard. A stack of +baled hay in the middle of the field cast a dense black shadow in the +afternoon sun. + +"No, I guess not," he said absently. "Has Lawson sent any word about the +hay?" + +"He said he'd come and look at it in a day or two." + +Mrs. Wickersham stood behind her son, smoothing the loose wrinkles from +his coat with her hard hand. He was scarcely more than a boy, and his +illness had given him that pathetic gauntness which comes from the +wasting away of youth and untried strength. + +"I wanted a little money before the twenty-fourth," he said, feeling one +feverish hand with the other awkwardly. "I can't seem to get used to +being sick. I thought sure I'd be ready for the hay-baling." + +"The doctor says you're doing real well, Benny," asserted the woman +bravely. "I guess if it ain't very much you want, we can manage it." + +"It's only five dollars." + +Mrs. Wickersham went back to the kitchen and resumed her dish-washing. +Her daughter came out of the pantry where she had been putting away the +cups. She was taller than her mother, and looked down at her with +patronizing deference. + +"Do you think that new medicine's helping Ben any?" she asked in an +undertone. + +"Oh, I don't know, Emmy," the poor woman broke out desperately; +"sometimes I think his cough's a little looser, but he's getting to have +that same look about the eyes that your pa had that last winter"--Mrs. +Wickersham left her work abruptly, and went and stood in the doorway +with her back toward her daughter. + +The girl took up her mother's deserted task, and went on with it +soberly. + +"Shall I put on some potatoes for yeast?" she asked, after a little +heart-breaking silence. + +"Yes, I guess you'd better," answered the older woman; "there's only the +best part of a loaf left, and Benny hadn't ought to eat fresh bread." + +She came back to her work, catching eagerly at the homely suggestion of +duty. + +"I'll finish them," she said, taking a dish out of her daughter's hand; +"you brighten up the fire and get the potatoes." + +The girl walked away without looking up. When she came into the room a +little later with an armful of wood, Mrs. Wickersham was standing by the +stove. + +"Emmy," she said in a whisper, taking hold of her daughter's dress and +drawing her toward her, "don't tell your brother I had to pay cash to +the balers. It took all the ready money I had in the house: I'd rather +he didn't know it." + +"What's the matter, mother?" asked the girl, looking steadily into the +older woman's worried face. + +"He wants five dollars next week," whispered Mrs. Wickersham, nodding +toward the door; "I hain't got it." + +The girl threw the wood into the woodbox and stood gazing intently at +it. She had a quaint, oval face, and the smooth folds of her dark hair +made a triangle of her high forehead. Two upright lines formed +themselves in the triangle as she gazed. She turned away without +speaking, and took a pan from the shelf and went into the shed-room for +potatoes. When she came back, she walked to her mother's side, and said +in a low voice,-- + +"You needn't worry about the money any more, mother. I'll get it for +Ben." + +"_You_, Em!" + +"Yes; I'm going over to Bassett's raisin-camp to pick grapes." + +"Oh, I don't think I'd do _that_, Emmy!" + +"Why, what's wrong about it?" + +"There's nothing wrong about it, of course; I didn't mean that. Only it +seems so--so kind of strange. None of the women folks in our family's +ever done anything of that kind." + +"Then the women folks in our family will have to begin. I can get a +dollar a day. The Burnham girls went, and they're as good as we are. I'm +going, anyway,"--the girl's red lips shut themselves in a narrow line. + +"Oh, they're all _good_ enough, Emmy," protested Mrs. Wickersham; "it's +nothing against them, only it's going out to work. You know the way men +folks feel--I don't know what your brother will say." + +"You can tell him I've set my heart on it. They have great fun over +there. He wanted me to go camping to the beach with the same crowd of +young folks this summer. I'll not stay at night, mother; I'll walk home +every evening. It's no use saying anything, I'm going." + +"Is Steve Elliott at the camp?" asked Benny, when his mother told him. + +"She didn't say anything about him, Benny, but I suppose he is. Why?" + +"I guess that explains it," said the invalid, smiling wistfully. + + +II. + +Nearly every available grape-picker in the little valley was at +Bassett's vineyard. There was a faint murmur of surprise when Em walked +into the camp on Monday morning. + +"I thought you weren't coming, Em," said Irene Burnham, curving her +smooth, sunburned neck away from the tall young fellow who stood beside +her. + +"I changed my mind," said Em quietly. + +"It's awful hot work," giggled Irene, "and I always burn so; I wish I +tanned. But I'm going to hold out the rest of this week, if I burn to a +cinder." + +"'Rene's after a new parasol," announced her brother teasingly; "she's +bound to save her complexion if it takes the skin off." + +The young people gave a little shout of delight, and straggled down the +aisles of the vineyard. The thick growth had fallen away from the +gnarled trunks of the vines, and the grapes hung in yellowing clusters +to the warm, sun-dried earth. The trays were scattered in uneven rows on +the plowed ground between the vines, their burden turning to sweetened +amber in the sunshine. The air was heavy with the rich, fruity ferment +of the grapes. Bees were beginning to drone among the trays. The +mountains which hemmed in the little valley were a deep, velvety blue in +the morning light. Em looked at them with a new throb in her heart. She +did not care what was beyond them as she walked between the tangled +vine-rows. Stephen Elliott had left Irene, and walked beside her. The +valley was wide enough for Em's world,--a girl's world, which is hemmed +in by mountains always, and always narrow. + +As the day advanced the gay calls of the grape-harvesters grew more and +more infrequent. The sky seemed to fade in the glare of the sun to a +pale, whitish blue. Buzzards reeled through the air, as if drunken with +sunlight. The ashen soil of the vineyard burned Em's feet and dazzled +her eyes. She stood up now and then and looked far down the valley where +the yellow barley-stubble shimmered off into haze. As she looked, +something straightened her lips into a resolute line and sent her back +to her work with softened eyes. + +"Do you get very tired, Em?" her brother asked, as she sat in the +doorway at nightfall. + +The girl leaned her head against the casement as if to steady her weary +voice. + +"Not very," she said slowly and gravely; "it's a little warm at noon, +but I don't mind it." + +"I thought sure I'd be up by this time," fretted the invalid, the +yearning in his heart that pain could not quench turning his sympathy to +envy. + +"The doctor says you're getting on real well, Ben," said Em steadily. + +The young fellow looked down at his wasted hands, gray and ghostly in +the twilight. + +"Was 'Rene there?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"It isn't like having your sister go out to work, Benny," said Mrs. +Wickersham soothingly; "just the neighbors, and real nice folks, too. I +wouldn't fret about it." + +On Wednesday morning, as Em neared the camp, she saw the grape-pickers +gathered in a little group before the girls' tent. Steve Elliott +separated himself from the crowd, and came to meet her. + +"We've struck, Em," he said, smiling down at her from the shadow of his +big hat. + +"Who's we?" asked Em gravely. + +"All of us. They're paying a dollar and a quarter over at Briggs's; we +ain't a-goin' to stand it." + +Em had stopped in the path. The young fellow stepped behind her, and she +went on. + +"Why don't you all go over to Briggs's and go to work?" she asked, +without turning her head. + +"Too far--the foreman'll come to time." + +They came up to the noisy group, and Em seated herself on a pile of +trays and loosened the strings of her wide hat; she was tired from her +walk, and the pallor of her face made her lips seem redder. + +Irene Burnham crossed over to the newcomer, shrugging herself with +girlish self-consciousness. + +"Isn't it just too mean, Em?" she panted; "I know they'll discharge us. +That means good-by to my new parasol; I've been dying for one all +summer, a red silk one"-- + +"Let up on the parasol racket, Sis," called one of the Burnham boys; +"business is business." + +The hum of the young voices went on, mingled with gay, irresponsible +laughter. Em got up and began to tie her hat. + +"Where are you going?" asked one of the girls. + +"I'm going to work." + +"To work! why, we've struck!" + +"I haven't," said Em soberly. "I'm willing to work for a dollar a day." + +There was a little cry of dismay from the girls; Steve Elliott's tanned +face flushed a coppery red. + +"You ain't goin' back on us, Em?" he said angrily. + +"I ain't going back on my word," answered the girl; "you needn't work if +you don't want to; this is a free country." + +"It isn't, though,"' said Ike Burnham; "the raisin men have a +ring--there's no freedom where there's rings." + +"I suppose they go into them because they want to," said Em, setting her +lips. + +"They go into them because they'd get left if they didn't." + +"Well, if I was a raisin man," persisted the girl quietly, "and wanted +to go into a ring, I'd do it; but if anybody undertook to boss me into +it, they'd have the same kind of a contract on hand that you've got." +She turned her back on the little group and started toward the vineyard. + +Irene had drifted toward Steve Elliott's side and was smiling +expectantly up into his bronzed face. He broke away from her glance and +strode after the retreating figure. + +"Em!" The girl turned quickly. + +"Oh, Steve!" she cried, with a pleading sob in her voice. + +"Em, you're making a fool of yourself!" he broke out cruelly. + +The curve in the red lips straightened. + +"Let me alone!" she gasped, putting up her hand to her throat. "If I'm +to be made a fool of, I'd rather do it myself. I guess I can stand it, +if you'll let me alone!" + + +III. + +When Bassett's foreman rode into the vineyard at noon to talk with the +strikers, he saw a wide brown hat moving slowly among the vine-rows. + +"Who's that?" he asked, pointing with his whip. + +"Em Wickersham," said one of the group sullenly. + +The foreman turned his horse's head, and galloped down the furrow. + +"Miss Wickersham." + +Em straightened herself, and pushed back her hat. + +"You don't want to give up your job?" + +The girl shaded her eyes with her hand. There was an unsteady movement +of her chin before she spoke. + +"I'd like to work till Friday night," she said. + +"Well, I'd like to keep you; but I don't know how it will be. I won't +stand any of their nonsense,"--he jerked his head toward the camp; "I'm +going to send over to Aliso Caņon for a wagon-load of pickers. I'm +pretty certain I can get them, but they'll all be men; you might find it +a little unpleasant." + +"Who are they?" asked Em. + +"Only a lot of ranchers picked up over the neighborhood," said the +foreman. "I think I can find enough men and boys who are through +harvesting. I'll try anyway." + +"Will you be here all the time?" asked the girl. + +"All of to-morrow and most of Friday," he answered, wondering a little. + +"Well, I guess if you don't care, I'll stay; I guess they won't hurt +me,"--the wraith of a smile flitted across her face. + +"All right." The foreman urged his horse forward. + +"The Wickershams must be hard pressed," he said to himself; "the girl +looks pale. Confound those young rascals!" + +Across at the camp Em could hear laughter and snatches of song. The soft +rustle of the grape-leaves in the tepid breeze seemed to emphasize the +stillness about her. Now and then a quail, tilting its queer little +crest, scurried across the furrows and whirred out of sight. Pink-footed +doves ran along the edge of the vineyard, mourning plaintively. The girl +worked on without faltering, looking down the valley now and then +through a blur that was not haze, and seeing always something there that +dulled the pain of her loneliness. + +The day wore on. Em had eaten her lunch alone, in the shadow of the +cypress hedge. As the afternoon advanced and the sea-breeze wandered +over the mountains in fitful gusts, the campers trooped homeward, still +laughing and calling to each other with reckless shouts. Em straightened +her aching limbs, and watched them as they went. 'Rene's pink dress +fluttered close to the tallest form among them, loitering a little, and +standing out in silhouette against the afternoon sky at the end of the +straggling procession as it disappeared over the hilltop. + + +IV. + +It was Friday evening, and Em laid five silver dollars on the kitchen +table beside her mother. + +"You can give that to Ben," she said wearily. + +Mrs. Wickersham glanced from the money to her daughter's dusty shoes, +and set, colorless face. + +"Emmy, I'm afraid you've overdone," she said with a start. + +"No, I haven't," answered the girl without flinching; "it's been a +little hard yesterday and to-day, and I'm tired, that's all. Don't tell +Ben." + +"Are you too tired to go to the church sociable this evening?" pursued +the mother anxiously. + +"Yes, I believe I am." + +"I saw Steve Elliott and 'Rene Burnham driving that way a few minutes +ago. I thought they was over at the camp." Mrs. Wickersham had resumed +her work and had her back toward her daughter. + +"They weren't there to-day," said Em listlessly. + +"Does she go with him much?" + +There was a rising resentment in Mrs. Wickersham's voice. Em glanced at +her anxiously. + +"I don't know," she faltered. + +"I don't see how she can act so!" the older woman broke out indignantly. + +The girl's face turned a dull white; she opened her lips to breathe. + +"I used to think she liked Benny," Mrs. Wickersham went on, speaking in +a heated undertone. "I should think she'd be ashamed of herself." + +Em's voice came back. + +"I don't believe Ben cares, mother," she said soothingly. + +"I don't care if he doesn't, she'd ought to," urged Mrs. Wickersham, +with maternal logic. + +There was a sound of strained, ineffectual coughing in the front room. +Mrs. Wickersham left her work and hurried away. When she came back Em +was sitting on the doorstep with her forehead in her hands. + +"Benny's got a notion he could drive over to the store to-morrow," her +mother began excitedly; "he's got something in his head. He thinks if +Joe Atkinson would bring their low buggy--I'm sure I don't know what to +say;" the poor woman's voice trembled with responsibility. + +Em got up with a quick, decisive movement. + +"Don't say anything, mother. If Ben wants to go, he's got to go. I'll +run over to Atkinson's right away." + +Mrs. Wickersham caught her daughter's arm. + +"No, no; not to-night. He said in the morning, he must be better, don't +you think so, Emmy?" she pleaded. + +"Of course," said Em fiercely. Then she turned and fastened a loosened +hairpin in her mother's disordered hair. Even a caress wore its little +mask of duty with Em. "Of course he's better, mother," she said more +gently. + + +V. + +It was Sunday, and the little valley was still with the stillness of +warm, drowsy, quiescent life. At noon, the narrow road stretching +between the shadowless barley-fields was haunted by slender, hurrying +spirals of dust, like phantoms tempted by the silence to a wild frolic +in the sunlight. The white air shimmered in wavy lines above the +stubble. Em shut her eyes as she came out of the little church, as if +the glare blinded her. Steve was waiting near the door, and a sudden, +unreasoning hope thrilled her heart. He was looking for some one. She +could hear the blood throbbing in her temples. He took a step forward. +Then a red silken cloud shut out her sun, and the riot died out of her +poor young heart. 'Rene was smiling up into his sunburned face from +the roseate glory of her new parasol. Em walked home through the +sunlight with the echo of their banter humming in her ears. + +Ben sat on the porch watching for her, a feverish brightness in his +sunken eyes. + +"Was 'Rene at church?" he asked eagerly. + +"Yes, Ben." + +Em stood behind his chair, looking down at the cords of his poor, wasted +neck. Her eyelids burned with hot, unshed tears. + +"Did she look nice--did she have anything new?" + +"Yes, she had a new parasol. She looked real pretty." The girl spoke +with dull, unfeeling gentleness. Ben tried to turn and look up into her +face. + +"She's been wanting it all summer. I told her 'way long in the spring +that I'd get it for her birthday. I wonder if she forgot it? I didn't +have any idea I'd be laid up this way." + +Em stood perfectly still. + +"I'll bet she was surprised, Em," he went on wistfully; "do you think +she'll come over and say anything about it?" + +"She'd better," said Em, setting her teeth in her bright under lip. + +The invalid gave a little, choking cough, and looked out across the +valley. A red spot was moving through the stubble toward the house. He +put up his hot hand and laid it on Em's cold fingers. + +"Mother tried to fool me about the money," he said feebly, "but I think +I know where she got it. I don't mean to forget it either, Em. I'll pay +it back just as soon as I get up." + +"Yes, Ben." + +The girl dropped her cheek on his head with a little wailing sob. + +"Yes, Ben, I ain't a bit afraid about my pay." Then she slipped her hand +from under his and went into the house. + +The red spot was drawing nearer. Mrs. Wickersham glanced through the +open window at her son. + +"Benny's looking brighter than I've seen him in a long time," she +thought. "I guess his ride yesterday done him good." + +And in her little room Em sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the +wall through blinding tears. + +"I wish I had it all to do over again," she said. "I'd do it all--even +if I knew--for Ben!" + + + + +COLONEL BOB JARVIS. + + +I. + +We were sojourning between Anaheim and the sea. There was a sunshiny +dullness about the place, like the smiles of a vapid woman. The bit of +vineyard surrounding our whitewashed cabin was an emerald set in the +dull, golden-brown plain. Before the door an artesian well glittered in +the sun like an inverted crystal bowl. Esculapius called the spot +Fezzan, and gradually I came to think the well a fountain, and the +sunburnt waste about us a stretch of yellow sand. + +When I had walked to the field of whispering corn behind the house, and +through the straggling vines to the edge of the vineyard in front, I +came back to where my invalid sat beneath the feathery acacias, dreaming +in happy lonesomeness. + +"Did you ever see such placid, bright, ethereal stillness?" I asked. + +Esculapius took his cigar from his lips and looked at me pensively. + +"It may be my misfortune, I hope it is not my fault, but I do not +remember to have seen stillness of any sort." + +Esculapius has but one shortcoming--he is not a poet. I never wound him +by appearing to notice this defect, so I sat down on the dry burr-clover +and made no reply. + +"You think it is still," he went on in a mannish, instructive way, "but +in fact there are a thousand sounds. At night, when it is really quiet, +you will hear the roar of the ocean ten miles away. Hark!" + +Our host was singing far down in the corn. He was a minister, a +deep-toned Methodist, brimming over with vocal piety. + + "Nearer the great white throne, + Nearer the jasper sea,"-- + +came to us in slow, rich cadences. + +The fern-like branches above us stirred softly against the blue. Little +aromatic whiffs came from the grove of pale eucalyptus-trees near the +house. Esculapius diluted the intoxicating air with tobacco smoke and +remained sane, but as for me the sunshine went to my head, and whirled +and eddied there like some Eastern drug. + +"My love," I said wildly, "if we stay here very long and nothing +happens, I shall do something rash." + +The next morning a huge derrick frowned in the dooryard, and a +picturesque group of workmen lounged under the acacias. The well had +ceased to flow. + +Esculapius called me to a corner of the piazza, and spoke in low, +hurried tones. + +"Something has happened," he said; "the well has stopped. I thought it +might relieve your feelings to get off that quotation about the golden +bowl and the wheel, and the pitcher, and the fountain, etc.; then, if it +is safe to leave you, I would like to go hunting." + +I looked at him with profound compassion. + +"I have forgotten the quotation," I said, "but I think it begins: 'The +grinders shall cease because they are few.' Perhaps you had better take +your shotgun, and don't forget your light overcoat. Good-by." + +Then I took a pitcher and went down the walk to the disglorified well. +The musical drip on the pebbles was hushed; the charm of our oasis had +departed. In its place stood a length of rusty pipe full of standing +water. Some bits of maiden's-hair I had placed in reach of the cool +spray yesterday were already withered in the sun. I took the gourd from +its notch in the willows sadly. Some one had been before me and carved +"Ichabod" on its handle. I filled my pitcher and turned to go. A tall +form separated itself from the group of workmen and came gallantly +forward. + +"Madame," said a rich, hearty voice, "if you'll just allow me, I'll +tackle that pitcher and tote it in for you. Jarvis is my name, Colonel +Bob Jarvis, well-borer. We struck a ten-inch flow down at Scranton's +last week, and rather knocked the bottom out of things around here." + +"But the pitcher isn't at all heavy, Colonel Jarvis." + +"Oh, never mind that: anything's too heavy for a lady; that's my +sentiments. You see, I'm a ladies' man,--born and brought up to it. +Nursed my mother and two aunts and a grandmother through consumption, +and never let one of 'em lift a finger. 'Robert,' my mother used to +say, in her thin, sickly voice, 'Robert, be true to God and the women;' +and, by godfrey, I mean to be." + +I relinquished the pitcher instantly. Esculapius was right; something +had happened. The well was gone, but in its place I had found something +a thousand times more refreshing. When my husband returned, he found me +sitting breathless and absorbed under the acacias. + +"Hush!" I said, with upraised finger; "listen!" + +Our host and the colonel were talking as they worked at the well. + +"We've had glorious meetings this week over at Gospel Swamp, Jarvis," +the minister was saying. "I looked for you every night. If you could +just come over and hear the singing, and have some of the good brothers +and sisters pray with you, don't you think"-- + +"Why, God bless your soul, man!" interrupted the colonel; "don't you +know I'm religious? I'm with you right along, as to first principles, +that is; but, you see, I can't quite go the Methodist doctrine. I was +raised a Presbyterian, you know,--regular black-and-blue Calvinist,--and +what a fellow takes in with his mother's milk sticks by him. I'm +attached to the old ideas,--infant damnation, and total depravity, and +infernal punishment, and the interference of the saints. You fellows +over at the Swamp are loose! Why, by--the way, my mother used to say to +me, in her delicate, squeaky voice: 'Robert, beware of Methodists; +they're loose, my son, loose as a bag of bones.' No, indeed, I wouldn't +want you to think me indifferent to religion; religion's my forte. Why, +by--and by, I mean to start a Presbyterian church right here under your +nose." + +"I'm glad of it," responded the minister warmly; "you've no idea how +glad I am, Jarvis." + +"Why, man alive, that church is in my mind day and night. I want to get +about forty good, pious Presbyterian families to settle around here, and +I'll bore wells for 'em, and talk up the church business between times. +You saw me carrying that lady's pitcher for her this morning, didn't +you? Well, by--the way, that was a religious move entirely. I took her +man for a Presbyterian preacher the minute I struck the ranch; maybe +it's poor health gives him that cadaverous look, but you can't most +always tell. More likely it's religion. At any rate"-- + +Esculapius retreated in wild disorder, and did not appear again until +supper-time. When that meal was finished, Colonel Jarvis followed me as +I walked to the piazza. + +"If it ain't presuming, madam," he said confidentially, "I'd like to ask +your advice. I take it you're from the city, now?" + +"Yes," I answered, with preternatural gravity; "what makes you think +so?" + +"Well, I knew it by your gait, mostly. A woman that's raised in the +country walks as if she was used to havin' the road to herself; city +women are generally good steppers. But that ain't the point. I'm engaged +to be married!" + +My composure under this announcement was a good deal heightened by the +fact that Esculapius, who had sauntered out after us, whistling to +himself, became suddenly quiet, and disappeared tumultuously. + +"Engaged to be married!" I said. "Let me congratulate you, Colonel. May +I hope to see the fortunate young lady?" + +"That depends. You see, I'm in a row,--the biggest kind of a row, by--a +good deal; and I thought you might give me a lift. She's a 'Frisco lady, +you know; one of your regular high-flyers; black eyes, bangs, no end o' +spirit. You see, she was visitin' over at Los Nietos, and we made it up, +and when she went back to 'Frisco I thought I'd send her a ring; so I +bought this," fumbling in his pocket, and producing the most astounding +combination of red glass and pinchbeck; "and, by godfrey! she sent it +back to me. Now, I don't see anything wrong about that ring; do you?" + +"It is certainly a little--well, peculiar, at least, for an engagement +ring; perhaps she would like something a trifle less showy. Ladies have +a great many whims about jewelry, you know." + +"Exactly. That is just what I reflected. So I went and bought _this_" +(triumphantly displaying a narrow band); "now that's what I call +genteel; don't you? Well, if you'll believe it, she sent that back, too, +by--return mail. I wish I'd fetched you the letter she wrote; if it +wasn't the spiciest piece of literature I ever read by--anybody. 'She'd +have me understand she wasn't a barmaid nor a Quaker; and if I didn't +know what was due a lady in her position, I'd better find out before I +aspired to her hand,' _et cetery_. Oh, I tell you, she's grit; no end o' +mettle. So, you see, I've struck a boulder, and it gets me bad, because +I meant to see the parson through with his well here, and then go on to +'Frisco and get married. Now, if you'll help me through, and get me into +sand and gravel again, and your man decides to settle in these parts, +I'll guarantee you a number one well, good, even two-inch flow, and no +expense but pipe and boardin' hands. I'll do it, by--some means." + +"Oh, no, Colonel," I said, struggling with a laugh; "I couldn't allow +that. It gives me great pleasure to advise you, only it's a very +delicate matter, you know--and--really" (I was casting about wildly for +an inspiration) "wouldn't it be better to go on to the city, as you +intended, and ask the lady to go with you and exercise her own taste in +selecting a ring?" + +My companion took a step backward, folded his arms, and looked at me +admiringly. + +"Well, if it don't beat all how a woman walks through a millstone! Now +that's what I call neat. Why, God bless you, madam, I've been boring at +that thing for a week steady, night and day, by--myself, and making no +headway. It makes me think of my mother. 'Robert,' she used to say (and +she had a very small, trembly voice),--'Robert, a woman's little finger +weighs more than a man's whole carcass;' and she was right. I'll +be--destroyed if she wasn't right!" + +Esculapius laughed rather unnecessarily when I repeated this +conversation to him. + +"I am willing to allow that it's funny," I said; "but after all there is +a rude pathos in the man, an untutored chivalry. Nearly every man loves +and reverences a woman; but this man loves and reverences women. It is +old-fashioned, I know, but it has a breezy sweetness of its own, like +the lavender and rosemary of our grandmothers; don't you think so?" + +There was no reply. I imagine that Esculapius is sensible at times of +his want of ideality, and feels a delicacy in conversing with me. So I +went on musingly:-- + +"With such natures love is an instinct; and it is to instinct, after +all, that we must look for everything that is fresh and poetic in +humanity. We have all made this sacrifice to culture,--a sacrifice of +force to expression. Isn't it so, my love?" + +Still no reply. + +"I like to picture to myself the affection of which such a man is +capable, for no doubt he loves this girl of whom he speaks; not, of +course, as you--as you _ought_ to love me, but with a rude, wild +sincerity, a sort of rugged grandeur. Imagine him betrayed by her. A man +of the world might grow white about the lips and sick at heart, but he +would find relief in cynicism and bitter words. This man would +_act_,--some wild, strange act of vengeance. The cultured nature is a +honeycomb: his is a solid mass; and masses give us our most picturesque +effects. Don't you think so, my dear?" + +And still no reply. + +"Esculapius!" + +"Well, my love?" + +"Isn't it barbarous of you not to answer when I speak to you?" + +"Possibly; at least it has that appearance, but there are mitigating +circumstances, my dear. I was asleep." + + +II. + +Two weeks later the colonel brought his wife to call upon me. She was a +showy, loud-voiced blonde, resplendently over-dressed. At the first +opportunity her husband motioned me aside. + +"Isn't she about the gayest piece of calico you ever saw?" he asked, +with proud confidence. "Doesn't she lay over anything around here by a +large majority?" + +"She is certainly a very striking woman," I said gravely, "and one who +does you great credit. But I am a little surprised, Colonel. No doubt it +was a mistake, but I got the impression in some way that the lady was a +brunette." + +The colonel's countenance fell. "Now, look here," he said, after a +little reflection; "I don't mind telling you, because you're up to the +city ways and you'll understand. The fact is, this _isn't the one_. You +see, I went on to 'Frisco as you advised, and planked down a check for +five hundred dollars the minute I got there. 'Now,' said I, 'Bob Jarvis +don't do things by halves; just you take that money, my girl, and get +yourself a ring that's equal to the occasion. I don't care if it's a +cluster of solitary diamonds as big as a section of well-pipe.' Now, I +call that square, don't you? Well, God bless your soul, madam, if she +didn't take that money and skip out with another fellow! Some +white-livered city sneak--beggin' your husband's pardon--who'd been +hangin' around for a year or more. Of course I was stuck when I heard of +it. It was this one told me. She's her sister. I could see that she felt +bad about it. 'It was a nasty, dirty trick,' she said; and I'll +be--demoralized if I don't think so myself, and said so at the time. +But, after all, it turned out a lucky thing for me. Now look at that, +will you?" + +I followed his gaze of admiring fondness to where Mrs. Jarvis was, +bridling and simpering under Esculapius's compliments. + +"Isn't she a nosegay? But don't you be jealous, madam; she's just +wrapped up in me, and constant," he added, shaking his head +reflectively; "why, bless your soul, she's as constant as sin." + +When I told Esculapius of this he sighed deeply. + +"What is the matter?" I asked, with some anxiety. + +He threw back his head and sent a little dreamy cloud of smoke up +through the acacias. + +"I was thinking," he said, pensively, "what a 'wild, strange act of +vengeance' it was!" + +I looked him sternly in the eye. "My dear," I said, "I don't think you +ought to distress yourself about that. I never should have reminded you +of it. You were dreaming, you know, and you are not responsible for what +you dream. Besides, dreams are like human nature, they always go by +contraries." + + + + +BRICE. + + +I. + +He came up the mountain road at nightfall, urging his lean mustang +forward wearily, and coughing now and then--a heavy, hollow cough that +told its own story. + +There were only two houses on the mesa stretching shaggy and sombre with +greasewood from the base of the mountains to the valley below,--two +unpainted redwood dwellings, with their clumps of trailing pepper-trees +and tattered bananas,--mere specks of civilization against a stern +background of mountain-side. The traveler halted before one of them, +bowing awkwardly as the master of the house came out. + +"Mr. Brandt, I reckon." + +Joel Brandt looked up into the stranger's face. Not a bad face, +certainly: sallow and drawn with suffering,--one of those hopelessly +pathetic faces, barely saved from the grotesque by a pair of dull, +wistful eyes. Not that Joel Brandt saw anything either grotesque or +pathetic about the man. + +"Another sickly looking stranger outside, Barbara, wants to try the air +up here. Can you keep him? Or maybe the Fox's'll give him a berth." + +Mrs. Brandt shook her head in a house-wifely meditation. + +"No; Mrs. Fox can't, that's certain. She has an asthma and two +bronchitises there now. What's the matter with him, Joel?" + +The stranger's harsh, resonant cough answered. + +"Keep him?--to be sure. You might know I'd keep him, Joel; the night +air's no place for a man to cough like that. Bring him into the kitchen +right away." + +The newcomer spread his bony hands over Mrs. Brandt's cheery fire, and +the soft, dull eyes followed her movements wistfully. + +"The fire feels kind o' homey, ma'am; Californy ain't much of a place +for fires, it 'pears." + +"Been long on the coast, stranger?" Joel squared himself +interrogatively. + +"'Bout a week. I'm from Indianny. Brice's my name--Posey Brice the boys +'n the glass-mill called me. I wuz blowed up in a glass-mill oncet." The +speaker turned to show an ugly scar on his neck. "Didn't know where I +wuz fer six weeks--thought I hadn't lit. When I come to, there wuz Loisy +potterin' over me; but I ain't been rugged sence." + +"Married?" + +The man's answer broke through the patient homeliness of his face at +once. He fumbled in his pocket silently, like one who has no common +disclosure to make. + +"What d' ye think o' them, stranger?" + +Joel took the little, rusty, black case in his hands reverently. A +woman's face, not grand, nor fair even, some bits of tawdry finery +making its plainness plainer; and beside it a round-eyed boy plumped +into a high chair, with two little feet sticking sturdily out in Joel's +face. + +Mrs. Brandt looked over her husband's shoulder with kindly curiosity. + +"The boy favors you amazingly about the mouth; but he's got his mother's +eyes, and they're sharp, knowin' eyes, too. He's a bright one, I'll be +bound." + +"Yours, I reckon?" + +"Yes, that's Loisy an' the boy," fighting the conscious pride in his +voice like one who tries to wear his honors meekly. + +He took the well-worn case again, gazing into the two faces an instant +with helpless yearning, and returned it to its place. The very way he +handled it was a caress, fastening the little brass hook with scrupulous +care. + +"I'll be sendin' fur 'em when I git red o' this pesterin' cough." + + +II. + +A very quiet, unobtrusive guest Mrs. Brandt found the man Brice; talking +little save in a sudden gush of confidence, and always of his wife and +child; choosing a quiet corner of the kitchen in the chill California +nights, where he watched his hostess's deft movements with wistful +admiration. + +"Try huntin', Brice; the doctors mostly say it's healthy." + +And Brice tried hunting, as Joel advised, taking the gun from its crotch +over the door after breakfast, and wandering for hours in the yellow, +wine-like air of the mesa. He came in at noon and nightfall always +empty-handed, yet no one derided his failure. There was something about +the man that smothered derision. + +"A sort o' thunderin' patience that knocks a fellow," Bert Fox put it. + +Mrs. Brandt had always an encouraging word for the hunter. + +"Greasewood's bad fer huntin'. Joel says it don't pay to look fer quail +in the brush when he does fetch 'em down." + +"Like enough. I dunno, ma'am. Reckon I've had a good many shots at the +little wild critters, but they allus turn their heads so kind o' +innocent like. A man as has been blowed up oncet hisself ain't much at +separatin' fam'lies. But I s'pose it ain't the shootin' that's healthy, +mebbe." + +And so the hunting came to an end without bloodshed. Whether the doctors +were right, or whether it was the mingled resin and honey of the sage +and chaparral, no one cared to ask. Certain it is that the "pesterin' +cough" yielded a little, and the bent form grew a trifle more erect. + +"I think likely it's the lookin' up, ma'am. Mountains seem to straighten +a fellow some way. 'Pears to me somebody writ oncet uv liftin' his eyes +to the hills fer help. Mebbe not, though. I ain't much at recollectin' +verses. Loisy's a powerful hand that way." + +Perhaps the man was right. It was the looking up. + +He followed Joel from the table one morning, stopping outside, his face +full of patient eagerness. + +"I'm gittin' right smart o' strength, neighbor. Ef there's odd jobs you +could gi' me; I'd be slow, mebbe, but seems like 'most anything 'ud be +better 'n settin' 'round." + +Joel scratched his head reflectively. The big, brawny-handed fellow felt +no disposition to smile at his weak brother. + +"Fox and I wuz sayin' yesterday we'd like to put another man on the +ditch; it'll be easy work fer a week, till we strike rock again. Then +there's the greasewood. It's always on hand. You might take it slow, +grubbin' when you wuz able. I guess we'll find you jobs enough, man." + +The scarred, colorless face brightened. + +"Thank ye, neighbor. Ef you'll be so kind, there's another little +matter. I'll have a trifle over when I've paid your woman fer her +trouble. I wuz thinkin' like enough you'd let me run up a shanty on yer +place here. Loisy wouldn't mind about style--just a roof to bring 'em +to. It's fer her and the boy, you know," watching Joel's face eagerly. + +"Yes, yes, Brice; we'll make it all right. Just take things kind o' +easy. I'll be goin' in with wood next week, and I'll fetch you out a +load o' lumber. We'll make a day of it after 'while, and put up your +house in a jiffy." + +And so Brice went to work on the ditch, gently at first, spared from the +heaviest work by strong arms and rough kindliness. And so, ere long, +another rude dwelling went up on the mesa, the blue smoke from its +fireside curling slowly toward the pine-plumed mountain-tops. + +The building fund, scanty enough at best, was unexpectedly swelled by a +sudden and obstinate attack of forgetfulness which seized good Mrs. +Brandt. + +"No, Brice, you haven't made me a spark o' trouble, not a spark. I'm +sure you've paid your way twice over bringin' in wood, and grindin' +coffee, an' the like. Many a man'd asked wages for the half you've done, +so I'm gettin' off easy to call it square." And the good lady stood her +ground unflinchingly. + +"You've been powerful good to me, ma'am. We'll be watchin' our chance to +make it up to you,--Loisy an' me. I'll be sendin' fer Loisy d'reckly +now." + +"Yes, yes, man, and there'll be bits o' furniture and things to get. +Spread your money thin, and Mrs. Fox and me'll come in and put you to +rights when you're lookin' for her." + +He brought the money to Joel at last, a motley collection of gold and +silver pieces. + +"Ef ye'll be so kind as to send it to 'er, neighbor,--Mrs. Loisy Brice, +Plattsville, Indianny. I've writ the letter tellin' her how to come. +There's enough fer the ticket and a trifle to spare. The boy's a master +hand at scuffin' out shoes an' things. You'll not make any mistake +sendin' it, will you?" + +"No, no, Brice; it'll go straight as a rocket. Let me see now. The +letter'll be a week, then 'lowin' 'em a week to get started"-- + +"Loisy won't be a week startin', neighbor." + +"Never you mind, man. 'Lowin' 'em a week to get off, that's two weeks; +then them emigrant trains is slow, say thirteen days on the +road,--that's about another fortnight,--four weeks; this is the fifth, +ain't it? Twenty-eight and five's thirty-three; that'll be the third o' +next month, say. Now mind what I tell you, Brice; don't look fer 'em a +minute before the third,--not a minute." + +"'Pears like a long spell to wait, neighbor." + +"I know it, man; but it'll seem a thunderin' sight longer after you +begin to look fer 'em." + +"I reckon you're right. Say four weeks from to-day, then. Like enough +you'll be goin' in." + +"Yes, we'll hitch up and meet 'em at the train,--you and me. The +women'll have things kind o' snug ag'in' we git home. Four weeks'll soon +slide along, man." + +Joel went into the house smiling softly. + +"I had to be almost savage with the fellow, Barbara. The anxious seat's +no place fer a chap like him; it'd wear him to a toothpick in a week." + +"But she might get here before that, you know, Joel." + +"I'll fix that with the men at the depot. If she comes sooner we'll have +her out here in a hurry. Wish to goodness she would." + + +III. + +The Southern winter blossomed royally. Bees held high carnival in the +nodding spikes of the white sage, and now and then a breath of perfume +from the orange groves in the valley came up to mingle with the wild +mountain odors. Brice worked every moment with feverish earnestness, and +the pile of gnarled roots on the clearing grew steadily larger. With all +her loveliness, Nature failed to woo him. What was the exquisite languor +of those days to him but so many hours of patient waiting? The dull eyes +saw nothing of the lavish beauty around him then, looking through it all +with restless yearning to where an emigrant train, with its dust and +dirt and noisome breath, crawled over miles of alkali, or hung from +dizzy heights. + +"To-morrow's the third, neighbor. I reckon she'll be 'long now +d'reckly." + +"That's a fact; what a rattler time is!" The days had not been long to +Joel. "We'll go in to-morrow, and if they don't come you can stay and +watch the trains awhile. She won't know you, Brice; you've picked up +amazingly." + +"I think likely Loisy'll know me if she comes." + +But she did not come. Joel returned the following night alone, having +left Brice at cheap lodgings near the station. Numberless passers-by +must have noticed the patient watcher at the incoming trains, the homely +pathos of his face deepening day by day, the dull eyes growing a shade +duller, and the awkward form a trifle more stooped with each succeeding +disappointment. It was two weeks before he reappeared on the mesa, +walking wearily like a man under a load. + +"I reckon there's something wrong, ma'am. I come out to see ef yer man +'ud write me a letter. I hadn't been long in Plattsville, but I worked +a spell fer a man named Yarnell; like enough he'd look it up a little. I +ain't much at writin', an' I'd want it all writ out careful like, you +know." The man's voice had the old, uncomplaining monotony. + +Joel wrote the letter at once, making the most minute inquiries +regarding Mrs. Brice, and giving every possible direction concerning her +residence. Then Brice fell back into the old groove, working feverishly, +in spite of Mrs. Brandt's kindly warnings. + +"I can't stop, ma'am; the settin' 'round 'ud kill me." + +The answer came at last, a businesslike epistle, addressed to Joel. Mrs. +Brice had left Plattsville about the time designated. Several of her +neighbors remembered that a stranger, a well-dressed man, had been at +the house for nearly a week before her departure, and the two had gone +away together, taking the Western train. The writer regretted his +inability to give further information, and closed with kindly inquiries +concerning his former employee's health, and earnest commendation of +him to Mr. Brandt. + +Joel read the letter aloud, something--some sturdy uprightness of his +own, no doubt--blinding him to its significance. + +"Will you read it ag'in, neighbor? I'm not over-quick." + +The man's voice was a revelation full of an unutterable hurt, like the +cry of some dumb wounded thing. + +And Joel read it again, choking with indignation now at every word. + +"Thank ye, neighbor. I'll trouble you to write a line thankin' him; +that's all." + +He got up heavily, staggering a little as he crossed the floor, and went +out into the yellow sunlight. There was the long, sun-kissed slope, the +huge pile of twisted roots, the rude shanty with its clambering vines. +The humming of bees in the sage went on drowsily. Life, infinitely +shrunken, was life still. A more cultured grief might have swooned or +cried out. This man knew no such refuge; even the poor relief of +indignation was denied to him. None of the thousand wild impulses that +come to men smitten like him flitted across his clouded brain. He only +knew to take up his burden dumbly and go on. If he had been wiser, could +he have known more? + +No one spoke of the blow that had fallen upon him. The sympathy that met +him came in the warmer clasp of hard hands and the softening of rough +voices, none the worse certainly for its quietness. Alone with her +husband, however, good Mrs. Brandt's wrath bubbled incessantly. + +"It's a crying, burning, blistering shame, Joel, that's what it is. I +s'pose it's the Lord's doings, but I can't see through it." + +"If the Lord's up to that kind o' business, Barbara, I don't see no +further use fer the devil," was the dry response. + +These plain, honest folk never dreamed of intruding upon their +neighbor's grief with poor suggestions of requital. Away in the city +across the mountains men babbled of remedies at law. But this man's hurt +was beyond the jurisdiction of any court. Day by day the hollow cough +grew more frequent, and the awkward step slower. Nobody asked him to +quit his work now. Even Mrs. Brandt shrank from the patient misery of +his face when idle. He came into her kitchen one evening, choosing the +old quiet corner, and following her with his eyes silently. + +"Is there anything lackin', Brice?" The woman came and stood beside him, +the great wave of pity in her heart welling up to her voice and eyes. + +"Nothin', ma'am, thank ye. I've been thinkin'," he went on, speaking +more rapidly than was his wont, "an' I dunno. You've knowed uv people +gettin' wrong in their minds, I s'pose. They wuz mostly smart, knowin' +chaps, wuzn't they?" the low, monotonous voice growing almost sharp with +eagerness. "I reckon you never knowed of any one not over-bright gittin' +out of his head, ma'am?" + +"I wouldn't talk o' them things, Brice. Just go on and do your best, and +if there's any good, or any right, or any justice, you'll come out +ahead; that's about all we know, but it's enough if we stick to it." + +"I reckon you're right, ma'am. 'Pears sometimes, though, as ef anything +'ud be better 'n the thinkin'." + + +IV. + +It all came to an end one afternoon. Brice was at work on the ditch +again, preferring the cheerful companionship of Joel and Bert Fox to his +own thoughts, and Mrs. Brandt was alone in her kitchen. Two shadows fell +across the worn threshold, and a weak, questioning voice brought the +good woman to her door instantly. + +"Good-day to you, ma'am. Is there a man named Brice livin' nigh here +anywhere?" + +It was a woman's voice,--a woman with some bits of tawdry ornament about +her, and a round-eyed boy clinging bashfully to her skirts. + +Mrs. Brandt brought them into the house, urging the stranger to rest a +bit and get her breath. + +"Thank you, ma'am; I'd like to be movin' on. Do you know if he's +well,--the man Brice? We're his wife an' boy." + +The woman told her story presently, when Mrs. Brandt had induced her to +wait there until the men came home,--told it with no unnecessary words, +and her listener made no comment. + +"My brother come a week afore we was leavin', an' he helped us off an' +come as fur as Omaha. He'd done well out in Nebrasky, an' he give me +right smart o' money when he left. I was took sick on the road,--I +disremember jest where,--an' they left me at a town with a woman named +Dixon. She took care o' me. I was out o' my head a long time, an' when I +come to I told 'em to write to Brice, an' they writ, an' I reckon they +took the name of the place from the ticket. I was weak like fer a long +spell, an' they kep' a writin' an' no word come, an' then I recollected +about the town,--it was Los Angeles on the ticket,--and then I couldn't +think of the place I'd sent the letters to before, an' the thinkin' +worrited me, an' the doctor said I mustn't try. So I jest waited, an' +when I got to Los Angeles I kep' a-askin' fer a man named Brandt, till +one day somebody said, 'Brandt? Brandt? 'pears to me there's a Brandt +'way over beyond the Mission.' And then it come to me all at oncet that +the place I'd writ to was San Gabriel Mission. An' I went there an' +they showed me your house. Then a man give us a lift on his team part o' +the way, an' we walked the rest. It didn't look very fur, but they say +mountains is deceivin'. There 's somethin' kind o' grand about 'em, I +reckon; it makes everything 'pear sort o' small." + +Mrs. Brandt told Joel about it that evening. + +"I just took the two of 'em up to the shanty, and opened the door, and +you'd a cried to see how pleased she was with everything. And I told her +to kindle a fire and I'd fetch up a bite o' supper. And when I'd carried +it up and left it, I just come back and stood on the step till I saw +Brice comin' home. He was walkin' slow, as if his feet was a dead +weight, and when he took hold o' the door he stopped a minute, lookin' +over the valley kind o' wishful and hopeless. I guess she heard him +come, for she opened the door, and I turned around and come in. 'Barbara +Brandt,' says I, 'you've seen your see. If God wants to look at that, I +suppose He has a right to; nobody else has, that's certain.'" + + + + +STANDARD AND POPULAR + +BOOKS OF FICTION + +PUBLISHED BY + +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. + + +Thomas Bailey Aldrich. + + The Story of a Bad Boy. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25. + Marjorie Daw and Other People. Short Stories. With + Frontispiece. 12mo, $1.50. + Marjorie Daw and Other Stories. In Riverside Aldine + Series. 16mo, $1.00. + These volumes are not identical in contents. + Prudence Palfrey. With frontispiece. 12mo, $1.50; + paper, 50 cents. + The Queen of Sheba. 12mo, $1.50; paper, 50 cents. + The Stillwater Tragedy. 12mo, $1.50; paper, 50 cents. + Two Bites at a Cherry, and Other Tales. 16mo, $1.25. + +Jane G. 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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: Stories of the Foot-hills + +Author: Margaret Collier Graham + +Release Date: March 18, 2010 [EBook #31687] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES OF THE FOOT-HILLS *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.fadedpage.com + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 352px;"> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" width="352" height="550" alt="" title="book cover" /> +</div> + +<h1>STORIES OF THE FOOT-HILLS</h1> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h2>MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 234px;"> +<img src="images/illus-emb-6.jpg" width="234" height="300" alt="" title="emblem" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br /><br /> + +The Riverside Press, Cambridge<br /> +1895<br /><br /> + +Copyright, 1895,<br /> + +<span class="smcap">By</span> MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM.<br /><br /> + +<i>All rights reserved.</i><br /> + +<i>The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.</i><br /> + +Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> + + + + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="3" width="50%" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS"> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><span class="smcap">Page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Withrow Water Right</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Alex Randall's Conversion</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_114'>114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Idy</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_134'>134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Complicity of Enoch Embody</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_189'>189</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Em</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_212'>212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Colonel Bob Jarvis</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_231'>231</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Brice</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_245'>245</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><br /><br />STORIES OF THE FOOT-HILLS.<br /><br /></h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE WITHROW WATER RIGHT.</h2> + +<h3>I.</h3> + + +<p>Lysander Sproul, driving his dun-colored mules leisurely toward the +mesa, looked back now and then at the winery which crowned its low hill +like a bit of fortification.</p> + +<p>"If I'd really had any idee o' gettin' ahead o' him," he reflected, "or +circumventin' him an inch, I reckon I'd been more civil; it's no more 'n +fair to be civil to a man when you're gettin' the best of 'im; but I +hain't. I don't s'pose Indian Pete's yaller dog, standin' ahead there in +the road ready to bark at my team like mad, has any idee of eatin' a +mule, much less two, but all the same it's a satisfaction to him to be +sassy; an' seein' he's limited in his means of entertainin' hisself, I +don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> begrudge him. And the Colonel don't begrudge me. When a man has +his coat pretty well wadded with greenbacks, he can stand a good deal o' +thumpin'."</p> + +<p>The ascent was growing rougher and more mountainous. Lysander put on the +brake and stopped "to blow" his team. Whiffs of honey-laden air came +from the stretch of chaparral on the slope behind him. He turned on the +high spring-seat, and, dangling his long legs over the wagon-box, sent a +far-reaching, indefinite gaze across the valley. There were broad acres +of yellowing vineyard, fields of velvety young barley, orange-trees in +dark orderly ranks, and here and there a peach orchard robbed of its +leaves,—a cloud of tender maroon upon the landscape. Lysander collected +his wandering glance and fixed it upon one of the pale-green +barley-fields.</p> + +<p>"It's about there, I reckon. Of course the old woman'll kick; but if the +Colonel has laid out to do it he'll do it, kickin' or no kickin'. If he +can't buy her out or trade her out, he'll freeze her out. Well, well, I +ain't a-carin'; she can do as she pleases."</p> + +<p>The man turned and took off the brake,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> and the mules, without further +signal, resumed their journey. Boulders began to thicken by the +roadside. The sun went down, and the air grew heavy with the soft, +resinous mountain odors. Some one stepped from the shadow of a scraggy +buckthorn in front of the team.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Sandy?"</p> + +<p>It was a woman's voice, but it came from a figure wearing a man's hat +and coat. Lysander stopped the mules.</p> + +<p>"Why, Minervy! what's up?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothin'. I just walked a ways to meet you." The woman climbed up +beside her husband. "You're later 'n I 'lowed you'd be. Something must +'a' kep' you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I come around by the winery. I saw Poindexter over t' the Mission, +an' he said the old Colonel wanted to see me."</p> + +<p>"The old Colonel wanted to see <i>you</i>, Sandy?" The woman turned upon him +anxiously in the yellow twilight. The rakishness of her attire was +grotesquely at variance with her troubled voice and small, freckled +face. "What did he want with you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he <i>said</i> he wanted me to help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> him make a trade with the old +man,"—Lysander sent a short, explosive laugh through his nostrils; "an' +I told 'im I reckoned he knowed that the old woman was the old man, up +our way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm glad you give it to 'im that way, Sandy," said the woman +earnestly, rising to her habiliments. "Mother'll be prouder 'n a peacock +of you. I hope you held your head high and sassed him right and left." +Mrs. Sproul straightened her manly back and raised her shrill, womanish +voice nervously. "Oh, I hope you told him you'd stood at the cannon's +mouth before, an' wasn't afraid to face him or any other red-handed +destroyer of his country's flag. I hope you told him that, Sandy."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wasn't to say brash," returned her husband slowly and +soothingly. "It wouldn't do, Minervy; it wouldn't do." Lysander uncoiled +his long braided lash and whipped off two or three spikes of the +withering, perfumed sage. "I talked up to 'im, though, middlin' +impident; but law! it didn't hurt 'im; he's got a hide like a +hypothenuse."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sproul drew a long, excited breath.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wish mother'd been along, Sandy; she'd 'a' told 'im a thing or two."</p> + +<p>Lysander was discreetly silent. The sage and greasewood ended abruptly, +and a row of leafless walnut-trees stretched their gaunt white branches +above the road. Here and there an almond-tree, lured into premature +bloom by the seductive California winter, stood like a wraith by the +roadside. They could see the cabin now. A square of flaring and fading +light marked the open doorway. The mules quickened their pace, and the +wagon rattled over the stony road.</p> + +<p>"Talk about increasin' the value o' this piece o' property!" the man +broke out contemptuously. "I told 'im it would take a good deal o' chin +to convince the old woman that anything would increase the value o' this +ranch o' hern, and danged if I didn't think she was right. I'd pegged +away at it two years, an' I couldn't."</p> + +<p>"What did he say to that, Sandy?" demanded the woman, with admiring +eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Say? Oh, he said the soil was good. An' I 'lowed it was,—what there +was of it; an' so was the boulders good, for boulders,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>—the trouble was +in the mixin'. 'Don't talk to me about your "decomposed granite,"' says +I: 'it's the granite what ain't decomposed that bothers me.' But +pshaw!"—and Lysander dropped his voice hopelessly,—"he ain't a-carin'. +I'd about as soon work the boulders as try to work him; he's harder'n +any boulder on the ranch."</p> + +<p>The mules turned into a narrow road, and stopped before the stable, a +shackly, semi-tropical structure, consisting of four sycamore posts and +a brush-covered roof. The lower half of the firelit doorway beyond +suddenly darkened, and there was a swift, scurrying sound among the +bushes that intervened between the house and the shed. A succession of +heads, visible even in the deepening twilight by reason of a uniform +glimmering whiteness, appeared in the barnyard.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sproul ran over the number with a rapid maternal calculation.</p> + +<p>"Where's the baby, Sheridan?"</p> + +<p>"Grammuzgotim."</p> + +<p>Lysander climbed out of the wagon, and came around to his wife's side.</p> + +<p>"Shan't I h'ist you down, Minervy?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<p>She gave him her hand, and stood beside him for an instant, +meditatively, after he had lifted her to the ground.</p> + +<p>"I guess I won't say nothin' to mother till you come in, Sandy. Be as +spry as you can with the chores. Mebbe M'lissy'll milk the cow fer you."</p> + +<p>She turned, and went up the walk toward the house, her mannish attire +and the glimmering white heads that encircled her faintly suggestive of +Jupiter and his attendant moons.</p> + +<p>The sea-breeze had died away, and the wind was blowing in cooler gusts +from the mountain; breezes laden with the aromatic sweetness of the +bay-tree and the heavy scent of the shade-loving bracken wandered from +far up the caņon into the cabin and out again, only to find themselves +profaned and sordid with the smell of frying bacon.</p> + +<p>A high, energetic voice was making itself heard even above the sizzle of +the meat and the voice of a crying baby.</p> + +<p>"What under the sun makes ye set up that yell every night jest at +supper-time? Ye ain't a-lackin' anything, as I kin see, exceptin' a +spankin', and I'm too busy to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> give ye that. Hark! There comes your +mammy, now. Straighten up yer face and show 'er what a good boy you've +been."</p> + +<p>Thus adjured, the baby brought his vocalizing to that abrupt termination +indicative of feeling not so deep-seated as to be entirely beyond +control, and scrambled toward the door on all fours, breaking in upon +the approaching planetary system, a somewhat dimmed and bedraggled +comet. Mrs. Sproul picked him up, and looked around the room +questioningly.</p> + +<p>"What's M'lissy doin', mother?"</p> + +<p>"Dawdlin'," answered the old woman, with a curtness that was eloquent, +lifting the frying-pan from the stove, and shaking it into a more +aggravated sputter.</p> + +<p>"Is she upstairs?"</p> + +<p>"I s'pose so. She gener'ly is, when there's anything doin' down."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sproul put her hand over the baby's mouth and called upward, +"M'lissy!"</p> + +<p>There was a sound of slow moving above, plainly audible through the +unplastered ceiling, leisurely sliding steps on the stairs, and Melissa +appeared in the doorway. She was still elevated above them by two or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +three steps, and leaned against the casement, looking down into the +smoke and disorder of the room with a listless, irresponsible gaze. A +tall, unformed girl, with a braid of red hair hanging across her +shoulder, and ending in a heavy, lustrous curl upon the limp folds of +her blue cotton dress.</p> + +<p>The baby had resumed a subdued but dismal proclamation of the grief from +which his mother's return had afforded him but a temporary relief, and +Mrs. Sproul elevated her thin, anxious voice coaxingly.</p> + +<p>"Lysander's late, M'lissy, and I thought mebbe you'd milk the cow fer +'im."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, of course," answered the girl, with a soft, good-natured +drawl, descending the remaining steps slowly. "Where's the milk-pail, +mother?"</p> + +<p>"On top o' the chimbly," answered the old woman tartly, pointing with +the frying-pan to a bench in the corner. "If it'd 'a' been a snake, +it'd 'a' bit you."</p> + +<p>The young girl crossed the room, and the satellites surrounding Mrs. +Sproul's chair, with an erratic change of orbit, transferred themselves +to the newcomer. The older<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> sister took a handkerchief from the pocket +of her coat.</p> + +<p>"You'd best tie this around your neck, M'lissy; it's gettin' chill."</p> + +<p>The girl accepted it carelessly, and stood in the doorway tying the bit +of faded silk about her round, white throat.</p> + +<p>"Where's the cow, mother?"</p> + +<p>"She's staked on the 'fileree, t'other side of the barn. If ye don't +find her when ye git there, come an' ask." The old woman drawled the +last three words sarcastically.</p> + +<p>Melissa smiled, showing a row of teeth, not small, but white and +regular.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if she's got away, I know where she's gone."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll bet you do. Some folks has a heap of onnecessary learnin'."</p> + +<p>There was no demand upon Melissa's supply of undervalued information. +The cow was mooing reproachfully in a cropped circle of musky alfilaria +behind the shed. The moon had risen, and rested for an instant upon the +edge of Cucamonga, like a silver ball rolling down the mountain-side. +Melissa laid her arms on the spotted heifer's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> back, and gazed at the +landscape dreamily. Not discontent, nor longing, nor vague, troublesome +aspirations mirrored themselves in the girl's placid face. Gentle, +ease-loving natures, that might show in fair relief against a delicate +background of luxury, become dull and lifeless in contrast with the +coarser tints of poverty. In the parlance of those about her, Melissa +was "dawdlin',"—and those about us are likely to be just, for they +speak from the righteous standpoint of results.</p> + +<p>The moon had floated high above Cucamonga,—so high that every nook and +fastness of the mountain lay revealed in her soft, nocturnal splendor; +even the tops of the mottled sycamores, far below in Sawpit Caņon, were +touched with a vague, ghostly light; and still the council that sat in +Lysander Sproul's kitchen was loud-voiced and shrill. The children, +huddled in a corner that they might whisper and giggle beyond the reach +of manual reproof, had fallen asleep, a confused heap of dejected +weariness. The baby's head hung at an alarming angle from his father's +arm, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> even the acrid, high-pitched notes of his grandmother's voice +failed to disturb the sleep of bedraggled innocence.</p> + +<p>"So he's a-wantin' to develop the caņon, is he? Time wuz when you'd 'a' +thought that caņon wuz good enough even fer him, from the lawin' and the +lyin' and the swearin' he done to git his clutches onto it. Well, if he +wants to improve it, why don't he improve it? Nobody's goin' to hender."</p> + +<p>"That's what I told 'im," answered her son-in-law, taking the pipe from +his mouth, and sending a halo of blue smoke about the head of his +slumbering charge. "He said he wanted to improve the water. 'Nobody's +goin' to kick at that,' says I; 'if they do, they're fools. I think the +old lady'll tell you to go ahead. I shouldn't be s'prised, though,' says +I, 'if she'd add that the water o' Sawpit Caņon's good enough fer her +without any improvin'.'"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sproul glanced at her mother triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"I told you Sandy talked up to him, mother. Oh, I do <i>wish</i> you'd 'a' +wore your uniform, Sandy; then you could 'a'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> rose up before him +proudly, an' told 'im you'd fought the battles of your country before"—</p> + +<p>"Oh, shucks, Minervy!" interrupted the old woman dejectedly; "what does +Nate Forrester care for anybody's country? What else'd he say, +Lysander?"</p> + +<p>"He said—well"—the man hesitated, and hitched his high shoulders a +trifle uneasily—"he swore he hated to do business with a woman."</p> + +<p>Spots of a deep, coppery red glowed through the tan of the old woman's +cheeks.</p> + +<p>"He said that, did 'e, Lysander Sproul? Then he must 'a' found some +woman hard to cheat. Nate Forrester don't hate to do business with +nobody he can cheat. The next time you see 'im, tell 'im it's mut'chal."</p> + +<p>"I told 'im that," answered Lysander grimly. "I told 'im he didn't hate +to do business with the hull female sect no worse than this partikiler +woman hated to do business with him; but I reckoned you wouldn't bother +'im if he wanted to go to work on the caņon,—that'd be onreasonable."</p> + +<p>"He hain't no notion o' doin' that," as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>serted the old woman +contemptuously. "Ketch him improvin' anybody else's water right. We're +nothin' to him but sticks to boil his pot. What's he up to now?"</p> + +<p>"Well," rejoined Lysander skeptically, "he <i>said</i> he wanted to divide +that upper volunteer barley-patch into ten-acre lots and put it onto the +market. An' he b'lieved he could double the water right by tunnelin'."</p> + +<p>"Why don't he tunnel away, then? Nobody's a-carin'," demanded the old +woman shrilly.</p> + +<p>"That's what I told 'im; and he 'lowed, of course, he wasn't a-goin' to +put money into another feller's water right. An' then he figured away, +showin' me how it'd increase the value o' this piece o' property; an' I +told 'im this property was 'way up now,"—Lysander sneered +audibly,—"consider'ble higher 'n most folks wanted to go; an' then he +went to blowin' about it, braggin' up the ranch, an' tellin' what a big +thing he done when he give it to you"—</p> + +<p>The old woman broke in upon him fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Did he say that, Lysander?" She turned, and bent upon her son-in-law a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +quick, wrathful glance from under her shaggy brows; the muscles of her +weather-beaten face twitched nervously. "I'd 'a' give my right hand to +'a' heerd 'im. I'd like to have Colonel Nate Forrester try to say +anything to me about givin' anybody this ranch." She measured her words +bitingly. "I s'pose when a feller puts his pistol at yer head, and tells +you to hold up yer hands, and goes through yer pockets, if he happens to +overlook a ten-cent piece he <i>gives</i> ye that much, does 'e? That's the +way Colonel Nate Forrester <i>give</i> me this ranch. Loss Anjelus County +hadn't heerd o' him when I settled onto this claim, and it ain't heerd +no good of 'im sence."</p> + +<p>The old woman's harsh, discordant voice rose higher with her wrath. The +baby stirred uneasily in his father's arms. Even Melissa raised her +eyes,—Melissa, who sat on the lowest step of the projecting staircase, +twisting and untwisting the faded blue silk handkerchief in her lap with +a gentle, listless monotony. It was impossible to tell whether ignorance +or indifference characterized the girl, so calm, so inert, so absent was +she, sitting in the half-shadow of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> dimly lighted corner, her +lustrous auburn head outlined against the sombre-hued redwood of the +wall behind her.</p> + +<p>There was a little hush in the room after the tempest.</p> + +<p>"No, that's a fact,—that's a fact. Well—then—you see—" continued +Lysander, groping for his forgotten place in the recital. "Oh, yes,—I +got up and told 'im 'Addyoce,' as if I s'posed he was through, and +started off; an' he called me back, an' 'lowed mebbe the old folks +didn't have much loose change lyin' 'round to put into water +improvements; an' I told 'im I didn't know,—I reckoned you could +mortgage the ranch. From the way he talked, he'd make you a handsome +loan on it, and jump at the chance; an' after he'd hummed and hawed a +while, he offered to give you a clear title to Flutterwheel Spring if +you'd deed 'im your int'rest in the rest o' the caņon. I told 'im it +wasn't my funeral. I'd tell you what he said, an' you could do as you +pleased."</p> + +<p>The old woman fixed her small, shrewd eyes on her son-in-law.</p> + +<p>"What else 'd he say, Lysander?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nothin' much. Wanted me to use my influence with the old man!"</p> + +<p>His mother-in-law gave a short, contemptuous sniff.</p> + +<p>"I reckon he'd like to do business with the old man. What'd you tell +'im?"</p> + +<p>"I told 'im I'd be sure to put my influence where it'd do the most good, +an' I 'dvised him to see you. I 'lowed him an' you'd git on peaceable as +a meetin' to 'lect a preacher,"—Lysander rubbed his gnarled hand over +his face, as if to erase a lurking grin,—"but he didn't seem anxious."</p> + +<p>"I reckon not. Is that all he said?"</p> + +<p>"'Bout all. He said it was a damned good trade."</p> + +<p>"Ly<i>san</i>der!" Mrs. Sproul sprang up, placing herself between her husband +and the heap of slumbering innocents in the corner. "Ly<i>san</i>der +Sproul,—and you a father! This comes of consortin' with the ungodly, +and settin' in the chair of the scorner."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, Minervy, I was only quotin'." Lysander's eye twinkled, +but he spoke contritely, with generous considera<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>tion for his wife's +condition, which was imminently delicate.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're hystericky, Minervy. You'd best go to bed," observed her +mother. "You're all tuckered out with yer walk. I guess Lysander's told +all he knows, hain't you, Lysander?"</p> + +<p>"'Bout all,—yes. He followed me out to the wagon, and hinted something +about Poindexter wantin' help if he went to work on the tunnel, and +'lowed I'd find it handier to have a job nearder home, now that the +grape-haulin' was over. But I told 'im there was no trouble about that. +The nearder home I got, the more work I found, gener'ly. Pay was kind o' +short, but then a man must be a trifle stickin' that wouldn't do his own +work fer nothin'."</p> + +<p>Lysander got up and carried the baby into the adjoining room, bending +his lank form from habit rather than from necessity, as he passed +through the doorway.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sproul, tearfully resentful of the charge of hysterics, +investigated the sleeping children with a view to more permanent +disposal of them for the night, a process which resulted in much +whimpering, and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> limp, somnolent sense of injury on the part of the +investigated.</p> + +<p>"I don't take much stock in Nate Forrester's trades," said the +grandmother, elevating her voice so that Lysander could hear; "there's +some deviltry back of 'em, gener'ly; the better they look, the more I'm +afraid of 'em. I don't purtend to know what he's drivin' at now, not +bein' the prince o' darkness, but I reckon he can wait till I do."</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>The next day Melissa turned her gray eyes with a vague, kindling +interest toward the "volunteer barley-patch." Two or three points of +white gleamed upon it in the afternoon sun. She mused upon them +speculatively for awhile, and then consulted Lysander.</p> + +<p>"I reckon it's the survey stakes, M'lissy," he said kindly. "Forrester's +dividin' it up, as he said. I wouldn't say nothin' 'bout it to yer maw, +'f I was you; it'll only rile her up."</p> + +<p>Melissa looked at the field in a quiet, dispassionate way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The land's his'n, ain't it, Lysander?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, the land's his'n, an' a good part o' the caņon, too,—all but +a little that b'longs to yer maw. But the hull thing used to be hern; +quite a spell back, though."</p> + +<p>Lysander was hauling stones from a knoll near the house, and dumping +them on the edge of the caņon,—a leisurely process, carried on by means +of a sled, of unmistakable home manufacture, drawn by one of the +dun-colored mules. Melissa was helping him in a desultory, intermittent +fashion. There was a very friendly understanding between these two +peace-loving members of the family.</p> + +<p>The young girl carried two or three speckled granite boulders and +dropped them into the rude vehicle, and then sat down on the edge of it +meditatively. The dark rim of her hat made a background for her head +with its little billows of richly tinted hair. Exertion had brought a +faint transitory pink to her fair, freckled face.</p> + +<p>"Did Colonel Forrester steal the land and water from mother, Lysander?" +she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> asked, with the calm, unreasoning candor of youth.</p> + +<p>Lysander straightened his lank form, and then betook himself to a seat +on a neighboring boulder, evidently of the opinion that the judicial +nature of the question before him demanded a sitting posture.</p> + +<p>"I dunno about that, M'lissy," he said, shutting one eye and squinting +across the valley sagaciously. "The <i>Soo</i>preme Court of the State of +Californy said he didn't, an' yer maw says he did,—with regards to the +caņon, that is. The land,—well, she deeded him the land, but he sort o' +had the snap on her when she done it. You'll find, M'lissy," he added, +with a careful disavowal of prejudice, "that there's as much difference +of 'pinion about stealin' as there is about heaven."</p> + +<p>There was a long, serene, comfortable silence. Even the mule seemed +dreamily retrospective. Bees reveled in the honeyed wealth of the +buckthorn, and chanted their content in drowsy monotony. The upland +lavished its spicy sweetness on the still, yellow air. A gopher peered +out of its freshly made burrow with quick, wary turns<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> of its little +head, and dropped suddenly out of sight as Melissa spoke.</p> + +<p>"How come mother to deed him the land, Sandy?"</p> + +<p>The weight of decision being lifted from Lysander's shoulders, he got up +and resumed his work, evidently esteeming a mild form of activity +admissible in purely narrative discourse.</p> + +<p>"Well, ye see, M'lissy, yer maw home-stidded the land and filed a claim +on the water in the caņon eight or ten years back, when neither of 'em +was worth stealin'; an' she 'lowed she done the thing up in good shape, +and had everything solid an' reg'lar, till Colonel Forrester come and +bought the Santa Elena ranch and a lot o' dry land j'inin' it, and +commenced nosin' around the caņon, an' hirin' men to overhaul the county +record; an' the fust thing you know, he filed a claim onto the water in +the caņon. Then you can guess what kind of a racket there was on hand."</p> + +<p>Lysander paused, and sat down on a pile of stones, shaking his head in +vague, reminiscent dismay. The young girl turned and looked at him, a +sudden gleam of recollection widening her eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I b'lieve I remember 'bout that, Sandy," she said, with a little thrill +of animation in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Like enough. You was quite a chunk of a girl then. Minervy an' me was +bee-ranchin' over t' the Verdugo, that spring. The rains was late and +lodged yer maw's barley, so as 't she didn't have half a crop; an' you +know yer paw's kind o'—kind o'—easy,"—having chosen the adjective +after some hesitation, Lysander lingered over it approvingly,—"and +bein' as she was dead set on fightin' the Colonel, she mortgaged the +ranch to raise the money for the lawsuit."</p> + +<p>Lysander stopped again. Memories of that stormy time appeared to crowd +upon him bewilderingly. He shook his head in slow but emphatic denial of +his ability to do them dramatic justice in recital.</p> + +<p>There was another long silence. The noonday air seemed to pulsate, as if +the mountain were sleeping in the sun and breathing regularly. The +weeds, which the weight of the sled had crushed, gave out a fragrance of +honey and tar. A pair of humming-birds darted into the stillness in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +little tempest of shrill-voiced contention, and the mule, aroused from +dejected abstraction by the intruders, shook his tassel-like tail and +yawned humanly.</p> + +<p>Melissa got up and wandered toward the edge of the caņon, and Lysander, +aroused from the plentitude of his recollections by her absence, +completed his load and drove the dun-colored mule leisurely after her.</p> + +<p>The stones fell over the precipice, breaking into the quiet of the +depths below with a long, resounding crash that finally rippled off into +silence, and the two sat down on the side of the empty sled and rode +back to the stone-pile.</p> + +<p>"I've always thought," said Lysander, resuming his work and his +narrative with equal deliberation, "that there was a good deal missed by +yer maw bein' took down with inflammatory rheumatiz jest about the time +o' the trial o' that lawsuit. I dunno as it would 'a' made much +difference in the end, but it would 'a' made consider'ble as it went +along, and I think she'd 'a' rested easier if she'd 'a' had her say. Of +course they come up an' took down her testimony in writin'; but it was +shorthand, an' yer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> maw don't speak shorthand fer common. Well, of +course, the old Colonel got away with the jury, and then yer maw found +out that he'd bought the mortgage; an' about the time it was due he come +up here, as smooth as butter, an' offered to give her this little patch +o' boulders an' let her move the house onto it, an' give her share +'nough in the caņon to irrigate it, if she'd deed him the rest o' the +land, an' save him the trouble o' foreclosin'. So she done it. But I +don't think he enj'yed his visit, all the same. She wasn't sparin' o' +her remarks to 'im, an' I think some o' 'em must 'a' hurt his feelin's, +fer he hain't been here sence." Lysander chuckled with reminiscent +relish.</p> + +<p>Melissa had walked around the sled, and stood facing him, with her hands +behind her. Her slight figure in its limp blue cotton drapery had the +scarred mountain-side for a background.</p> + +<p>"I don't see yet as he done anything so awful mean," she protested +leniently.</p> + +<p>"Ner do I, M'lissy," acquiesced her brother-in-law. "But after the hull +thing was signed, sealed, and delivered,"—Lysander rested from his +labors again on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> strength of these highly legal expressions,—"after +it was closed up, so to speak, it came to yer maw's ears, in some way, +that there was a mistake in the drawin' of that mortgage, an' this land +was left out of it, an' would 'a' been hern anyway; and somehow that +thing has stuck in her craw all these years, and sort o' soured her."</p> + +<p>Melissa mused on the problem, wide-eyed and grave. The mule seemed to +await her verdict with humble resignation. Lysander sat on the side of +the sled and looked across the valley seaward, to where Catalina was +outlined against the horizon in soft, cloud-like gray.</p> + +<p>"An' it was a mistake? she meant to put it in the mortgage?" queried the +girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she meant to, so far as a person can be said to mean anything when +they're a-mortgagin' their homestead; usually they're out o' their +heads. But the law don't take no 'count o' that kind o' craziness. You +can do the foolest things, M'lissy, without the court seein' a crack in +your brain; but if you happen to get mad an' put a bullet through some +good-fer-nothin' loafer, then immedjitly yer insane. That's the law, +M'lissy."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>Melissa received this exposition of her country's code with wondering, +luminous eyes. It had a wild, unreasonable sound which was a sufficient +guarantee of its correctness. The doings of authorities were liable to +be misty by reason of elevation. The fault lay in her limited vision.</p> + +<p>"I s'pose the law's right. An' the law said the caņon didn't belong to +mother. I think that ought to 'a' settled it. I don't see any good in it +all,—this talkin' so loud, an' scoldin', an' callin' people names. Do +you, Sandy?"</p> + +<p>"I hain't seen much good come of it," confessed the man reluctantly; +"but it's human to talk,—it's human, M'lissy. Some folks find it +relievin', an' it don't do any harm."</p> + +<p>The young girl did not assent. Deep down in her placid, peace-loving +nature was the obstinate conviction that it did a great deal of harm. +She sat down in the velvety burr-clover, clasping her hands about her +knees.</p> + +<p>"Is Flutterwheel Spring more 'n mother's share o' the caņon?" she +inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think it is. Of course I never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> measured the water, an' I didn't +admit it when Forrester said so; but I'd 'a' resked sayin' it was, if +anybody else'd asked me."</p> + +<p>"Why wouldn't you say so to him?"</p> + +<p>Lysander laughed, and flipped a pebble toward a gray squirrel, who gave +a little rasping, insulted bark, and whisked into his hole in high +dudgeon.</p> + +<p>"Well, because he ain't a-lackin' for information, an' I hain't got none +to spare, M'lissy."</p> + +<p>The young girl rocked herself gently in the clover.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it," she said hopelessly. "It looks as if he was +tryin' to be fair, an' mother wouldn't let him. I should think she'd be +glad, even if he did used to be mean,—an' I can't see as he was any +meaner than the law 'lowed him to be. I s'pose the law's right. You went +to the war for the law, didn't you, Sandy?"</p> + +<p>Her companion winced. There was one thing dearer to him than his +neutrality in the family feud.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe I did, M'lissy,—mebbe I did," he answered, with a trifling +accession of dignity: "fer the law as I understood it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> The law's all +right, but it ain't every judge nor every jury that knows what it is; +they think they do, but they're liable to be mistaken. Seems to me +they're derned liable to be mistaken!" he added, with some asperity.</p> + +<p>And so the paths that to Melissa's straightforward consciousness seemed +so simple and direct ended, one and all, in hopeless confusion. Even +Lysander had failed her. The foundations of human knowledge were +certainly giving way when Lysander indulged in the mysterious.</p> + +<p>Melissa turned and left him, walking absently up the little path that +led to the caņon. She had not noticed a speck crawling like an +overburdened insect along the winding road in the valley. Visible and +invisible by turns, as the sage-brush was sparse or high, and emerging +at last into permanent view where the wild growth came to an end and +Mrs. Withrow's "patch" began, it resolved itself, to Lysander's intent +and curious gaze, into a diminutive gray donkey, bearing a confused +burden of blankets and cooking utensils, and followed by a figure more +dejected, if possible, than the donkey himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll be hanged if the old man hain't showed up!" said Lysander, +dropping down on the sled, and throwing back into the pile two boulders +he held, as if to indicate a general cessation of all logical sequence +and a consequent embargo on industry.</p> + +<p>Evidently the old man was conscious that he "showed up" to poor +advantage, for he began prodding the donkey with a conscientious +absorption that filled that small brute with amazement, and made him +amble from one side of the road to the other, in a vain endeavor to look +around his pack and discover the reason for this unexpected turn in the +administration of affairs.</p> + +<p>Lysander watched their approach with an expression of amused contempt. +The traveler started, in a clumsy attempt at surprise, when he was +opposite his son-in-law, and, giving the donkey a parting whack that +sent him and his hardware onward at a literally rattling pace, turned +from the road, and sidled doggedly through the tarweed toward the +stone-pile.</p> + +<p>Lysander folded his arms, and surveyed him in a cool, sidelong way that +was peculiarly withering.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," he said, with a caustic downward inflection,—"well, it's you, +is it?"</p> + +<p>The newcomer admitted the gravity of the charge by an appealing droop of +his whole person.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered humbly, "it's me,—an' I didn't want to come. I vum I +didn't. But Forrester made me. He 'lowed you wouldn't hev no objections +to my comin'—on business."</p> + +<p>He braced himself on the last two words, and made a feeble effort to +look his son-in-law in the face. What he saw there was not encouraging. +It became audible in a sniff of undisguised contempt.</p> + +<p>"Where'd you see Forrester?"</p> + +<p>"At the winery. Ye see I was a-goin' over to the Duarte, an' I stopped +at the winery"—</p> + +<p>"What'd you stop at the winery fer?" interrupted the younger man +savagely.</p> + +<p>"Why, I tole ye,—Forrester wanted to see me <i>on business</i>. I stopped to +see Forrester, Lysander. What else'd I stop fer? I was in a big hurry, +too, an' I vum I hated to stop, but I hed to. When a man like Forrester +wants to see you"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"How'd you know he wanted to see you?" demanded Sproul.</p> + +<p>The old man gave his questioner a look of maudlin surprise.</p> + +<p>"Why, he tole me so hisself; how else'd I find it out? I was a-settin' +there in the winery on a kaig, an' he come an' tole me he wanted to see +me <i>on business</i>. 'Pears to me you're duller 'n common, Lysander." The +speaker began to gather courage from his own ready comprehension of +intricacies which evidently seemed to puzzle his son-in-law. "Why, +sho,—yes, Lysander, don't ye see?" he added encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I see,—I see," repeated Lysander sarcastically. "It's as +clear as mud. Now, look here," he added, turning upon his visitor +sternly, "you let Forrester alone. You don't know any more about +business than a hog does about holidays, an' you know it, an' Forrester +knows it. You'll put your foot in it, that's what you'll do."</p> + +<p>The old man looked pensively at one foot and then at the other, as if +speculating on the probable damage from such a catastrophe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm sure I dunno," he said plaintively. "Forrester 'peared to think I +ought to come; he tole me why, but I vum I've fergot." He took off his +hat and gazed into it searchingly, as if the idea that had mysteriously +escaped from his brain might have lodged in the crown.</p> + +<p>Lysander fell to work with an energy born of disgust for another's +uselessness.</p> + +<p>"Seein' I'm here, I reckon nobody'll objeck to my payin' my respecks to +the old woman," continued the newcomer, glancing from the crown of his +hat to Lysander's impassive face with covert inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I guess if you c'n stand it, the rest of us'll have to," sneered his +son-in-law. "I've advised you over 'n' over again to steer clear of the +old woman; but there's no law agen a man courtin' his own wife, even if +she don't give 'im much encouragement."</p> + +<p>The old man put on his hat, and shuffled uneasily toward the house. +Lysander stopped his work, and looked after him with a whimsical, +irreverent grimace.</p> + +<p>"You're a nice old customer, you are; an' Forrester's 'nother. I wish to +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> livin' gracious the old woman'd send you a-kitin'; but she won't; +she'll bark at you all day, but she won't bite. Women's queer."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Withrow was engaged in what she called "workin' the bread into the +pans." She received her dejected spouse with a snort of disapproval.</p> + +<p>"When the donkey come a-clatterin' up to the door, I knowed there was +another follerin'," she said acridly. "Come in an' set down. I s'pose +you're tired: you mostly are."</p> + +<p>The old man sidled sheepishly into the room and seated himself, and his +wife turned her back upon him and fell to kneading vigorously a mass of +dough that lay puffing and writhing on the floured end of a pine table.</p> + +<p>"I jess come on Forrester's 'count," he began haltingly: "that is, he +didn't want me to come, but I wasn't goin' to do what Forrester said. I +ain't a-carin' fer Forrester. I wasn't goin' to take a trip 'way up here +jess because he wanted me to, so I didn't. I"—</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" said his wife savagely, without turning her head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>The visitor obeyed, evidently somewhat relieved to escape even thus +ignominiously from the bog into which his loquacity was leading him.</p> + +<p>The old woman thumped and pounded the mass of dough until the small +tenement shook. Then, after much shaping and some crowding, she +consigned her six rather corpulent loaves to "the pans," and turned on +her nominal lord.</p> + +<p>He had fallen asleep, with his head dropped forward on his breast: his +hat had fallen off, and lay in his lap in a receptive attitude, as if +expecting that the head would presently drop into it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Withrow gave him a withering glance.</p> + +<p>"Forrester sent you, did 'e? You miser'ble old jelly-fish! You're a nice +match fer Forrester, you are!"</p> + +<p>She pushed her loaves angrily under the stove, to the discomfiture of +the cat, who, being thus rudely disturbed, yawned and stretched, and +curved its back to the limit of spinal flexibility, as it rubbed against +the old woman's knees.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>The California winter had blossomed and faded. The blaze of the poppies +on the mesa had given place to the soft, smoky tint of the sage, and +almost insensibly the cloudless summer had come on.</p> + +<p>Work had commenced in Sawpit Caņon. Unwillingly, and after much +wrangling, the old woman had yielded to the evident fairness of +Forrester's offer. Even in yielding, however, she had permitted herself +the luxury of defiance, and had refused to appear before a notary in the +valley to sign the deed. If it afforded her any satisfaction when that +official was driven to the door by Colonel Forrester, and entered her +kitchen, carrying his seal, and followed by an admiring and awestricken +group of children, she did not display it by the faintest tremor of her +grim countenance. She had held the end of the penholder gingerly while +she made her "mark," and it was when old Withrow had been banished from +the room, and the notary, in a bland, perfunctory way, had made her +acquainted with the contents of the document, and inquired<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> whether she +signed the same freely and voluntarily, that she deigned to speak.</p> + +<p>"Did Nate Forrester tell you to ask me that?" she demanded, darting a +quick glance through the open door at the Colonel, who sat in his +road-wagon under the trailing pepper-tree, flicking the flies from his +roadster's back. "Ef he did, you tell 'im fer me that the man don't live +that kin make me do what I don't want to. An' ef he thinks the two or +three kaigs of wine he's poured into that poor, miser'ble, sozzlin' old +man o' mine has had anything to do with me signin' this deed, he's a +bigger fool than I took 'im to be, an' that's sayin' a good deal."</p> + +<p>And with this ample though somewhat novel declaration of freedom from +marital compulsion the notary was quite willing to consider the majesty +of the law satisfied, and proceeded to affix his seal on its imposing +star of gilded paper, a process which drew the children about him in a +rapidly narrowing circle from which he was glad to escape.</p> + +<p>"Damn it," he said, as he climbed into the road-wagon and tucked the +robe about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> his legs,—"damn it, Colonel, I thought you were popular +with the gentler sex; but there certainly seems to be a coolness between +you and the old lady," and the two men drove off, laughing as they went.</p> + +<p>The document they had left behind them, which made Mrs. Withrow the +owner of Flutterwheel Spring, "being the most southerly spring on the +west side of Sawpit Caņon," had lain untouched upon the table until +Lysander had taken it in charge, and it was this lofty indifference on +the part of his mother-in-law that had justified her in the frequent +boast that, "whatever she'd done, she hadn't stirred out of her tracks, +nohow."</p> + +<p>So at last the stillness of Sawpit Caņon was invaded. Poindexter had +come from San Gabriel Mission, and with him a young engineer from Los +Angeles,—a straight, well-made young fellow, whose blue flannel shirt +was not close enough at the collar to hide the line of white that +betokened his recent escape from civilization. There were half a dozen +workmen besides, and the muffled boom of blasting was heard all day +among the boulders. At night, the touch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> of a banjo and the sound of +men's voices singing floated down from the camp among the sycamores.</p> + +<p>This camp was a bewildering revelation to Melissa, who carried milk to +the occupants every evening. The Chinese cook, who came to meet her and +emptied her pail, trotting hither and thither, and swearing all the time +with a cheerful confidence in the purity of his pigeon English, was not +to her half so much a foreigner and an alien as was either of the two +men who occupied the engineer's tent. They raised their hats when she +appeared among the mottled trunks of the sycamores. One of them—the +younger, no doubt—sprang to help her when her foot slipped in crossing +the shallow stream, and the generous concern he manifested for her +safety, and which was to him the merest commonplace of politeness, was +to Melissa a glimpse into Paradise.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, she's pretty, Poindexter," he had said, as he came back and +picked up his banjo; "she has eyes like a rabbit."</p> + +<p>And Poindexter had added up two columns of figures and contemplated the +result some time before he asked, "Who?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The milkmaid,—she of the bare feet and blue calico. I have explored +the dim recesses of her sunbonnet, and am prepared to report upon the +contents. The lass is comely."</p> + +<p>But Poindexter had relapsed into mathematics, and grunted an +unintelligible reply.</p> + +<p>Melissa heard none of this. All that she heard was the faint, distant +strum of a banjo, and a gay young voice announcing to the rocks and +fastnesses of the caņon that his love was like a red, red rose. His +love! Melissa walked along the path beside the flume in vague +bewilderment. It was his love, then, whose picture she had seen pinned +to the canvas of the tent. The lady was scantily attired, and Melissa +had a confused idea that her heightened color might arise from this +fact. She felt her own cheeks redden at the thought.</p> + +<p>Lysander was at work in the caņon some distance below the new tunnel, +"ditching" the water of Flutterwheel Spring to Mrs. Withrow's land.</p> + +<p>"That long-legged tenderfoot thinks you're purty, M'lissy," he +announced, as he smoked his pipe on the doorstep one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> evening. "He come +down to the ditch this afternoon to see if I could sharpen a pick fer +'em, and he asked if you was my little dotter. I told 'im no, I was your +great-grandpap," and Lysander laughed teasingly.</p> + +<p>Melissa was sitting on a low chair behind him, holding her newly arrived +niece in her arms. She bent over the little puckered face, her own +glowing with girlish delight. The baby stirred, and tightened its +wrinkles threateningly, and Melissa stooped to kiss the little moist +silken head.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't even know his name," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Nor me, neither," said Lysander. "Poindexter calls him 'Sterling,' but +I don' know if it's his first name or his last. Anyway, he seems to be a +powerful singer."</p> + +<p>The baby broke into a faint but rapidly strengthening wail.</p> + +<p>"Come, now, Pareppy Rosy," said Lysander soothingly, "don't you be +jealous; your old pappy ain't a-goin' back on you as a musicianer. Give +'er to me, M'lissy."</p> + +<p>Melissa laid the little warm, unhappy bundle in its father's arms, and +stood in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> path in front of them, looking over the valley, until the +baby's cries were hushed.</p> + +<p>"Was the pick much dull?" she asked, with a faint stirring of womanly +tact.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," rejoined the unsuspecting Lysander; "they get 'em awful dull +up there in the rock. I had to bring it down to the forge, an' I guess +I'll git you to take it back to 'em in the morning. I've got through +with the ditch, and I want to go to makin' basins; them orange-trees +west o' the road needs irrigatin'."</p> + +<p>"Yes, they're awful dry; they're curlin' a little," said the girl, with +waning interest. "I thought mebbe Mr. Poindexter done the singin'?" she +added, after a little silence.</p> + +<p>Her brother-in-law hesitated, and then found his way back.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not; I s'pose he joins in now and then, but it's the +Easterner that leads off."</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Jee-<i>ee</i>-rusa<i>lem</i>, my happy home!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Lysander threw his head back against the casement of the door, and broke +into the evening stillness with his heavy, unmanage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>able bass. Mrs. +Sproul came to the door to "take the baby in out of the night air;" the +air indoors being presumably a remnant of midday which had been +carefully preserved for the evening use of infants.</p> + +<p>The next morning Melissa carried the pick to the workmen at the tunnel.</p> + +<p>A fog had drifted in during the night, and was still tangled in the tops +of the sycamores. The soft, humid air was sweet with the earthy scents +of the caņon, and the curled fallen leaves of the live oaks along the +flume path were golden-brown with moisture. Beads of mist fringed the +silken fluffs of the clematis, dripping with gentle, rhythmical +insistence from the trees overhead.</p> + +<p>Melissa had set out at the head of a straggling procession, for the +children had clamored to go with her.</p> + +<p>"You can go 'long," she said, with placid good nature, "if you'll set +down when you give out, and not go taggin' on, makin' a fuss."</p> + +<p>In consequence of this provision various major-generals had dropped out +of the ranks, and were stationed at different points<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> in the rear, and +only Melissa and Ulysses S. Grant were left. Even that unconquerable +hero showed signs of weakening, lagging behind to "sick" his yellow cur +into the wild-grape thickets in search of mountain lion and other +equally ambitious game.</p> + +<p>Melissa turned in the narrow path, and waited for him to overtake her.</p> + +<p>"I b'lieve you'd better wait here, 'Lyss," she said gravely. "You can go +up the bank there and pick some tunas. Look out you don't get a cactus +spine in your foot, though, for I hain't got anything to take it out +with exceptin' the pick,"—she smiled in the limp depths of her +sunbonnet,—"an' I won't have that when I come back."</p> + +<p>The dog, returned from the terrors of his unequal chase at the sound of +Melissa's voice, looked and winked and wagged his approval, and the two +comrades darted up the bank with mingled and highly similar yaps of +release.</p> + +<p>Melissa quickened her steps, following the path until she heard the +sound of voices and the ring of tools in the depths below. Then she +turned, and made her way through the underbrush down the bank.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<p>Suddenly she heard a loud, prolonged whistle and the sound of hurrying +feet. She stood still until the footsteps had died away. Then the sharp +report of an explosion shook the ground beneath her feet, and huge +pieces of rock came crashing through the trees about her. The girl gave +a shrill, terrified scream, and fell cowering upon the ground. Almost +before the echo had ceased, Sterling sprang through the chaparral, his +face white and his lips set.</p> + +<p>"My God, child, are you hurt?" he said, dropping on his knees beside +her.</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't hurt," she faltered, "but I was awful scared. I didn't know +you was blastin' here; I thought it was on up at the tunnel."</p> + +<p>"It was until this morning. We are going to put in a dam." He frowned +upon her, unable to free himself from alarm. "I did not dream of any one +being near. What brought you so far up the caņon?"</p> + +<p>"I brung you the pick."</p> + +<p>She stooped toward it, and two or three drops of blood trickled across +her hand.</p> + +<p>"You are hurt, see!" said Sterling anxiously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>The girl turned back her sleeve and showed a trifling wound.</p> + +<p>"I must 'a' scratched it on the Spanish bayonet when I fell. It's no +difference. Nothin' struck me. Lysander's gettin' ready to irrigate; he +said if you wanted any more tools sharpened, I could fetch 'em down to +the forge."</p> + +<p>The young man showed a preoccupied indifference to her message. +Producing a silk handkerchief, fabulously fine in Melissa's eyes, he +bound up the injured wrist, with evident pride in his own deftness and +skill.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite sure you are able to walk now?" he asked kindly.</p> + +<p>"Why, I ain't hurt a bit; not a speck," reiterated the girl, her eyes +widening.</p> + +<p>Her companion's face relaxed into the suggestion of a smile. He helped +her up the bank, making way for her in the chaparral, and tearing away +the tangled ropes of the wild-grape vines.</p> + +<p>"Tell your father not to send you above the camp again," he said gently, +when she was safe in the path; "one of the men will go down with the +tools."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>Melissa stood beside the flume a moment, irresolute. Her sunbonnet had +fallen back a little, disclosing her rustic prettiness.</p> + +<p>"I'm much obliged to you," she said quaintly, exhausting her knowledge +of the amenities. "I'll send the hankecher back as soon as I can git it +washed and done up."</p> + +<p>The young man smiled graciously, bowed, raised his hat, and waited until +she turned to go; then he bounded down the bank, crashing his way +through the underbrush with the pick.</p> + +<p>None of the men below had heard the cry, and Poindexter refused to lash +himself into any retrospective excitement.</p> + +<p>"Confound the girl!" fumed Sterling, vexed, after the manner of men, +over the smallest waste of emotion; "why must she frighten a fellow limp +by screaming when she wasn't hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly for the same reason that the fellow became limp before he knew +she <i>was</i> hurt," suggested Poindexter; "or she may have thought it an +eminently ladylike thing to do; she looks like a designing creature. If +the killed and wounded are properly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> cared for, suppose we examine the +result of the blast."</p> + + +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>It was Saturday morning, and Lysander and Melissa were irrigating the +orange-trees. Old Withrow sat by the ditch at the corner of the orchard, +watching them with a feeble display of interest, while two or three of +the children climbed and tumbled over him as if he were some inoffensive +domestic animal.</p> + +<p>The old man had hung about the place longer than was his wont, filled +with a maudlin glee over his own importance as having been in some way +instrumental in the trade with Forrester; and he had followed Lysander +to the orchard this morning with a confused alcoholic idea that he ought +to be present when the water from Flutterwheel Spring was turned on +for the first time.</p> + +<p>"You'll git a big head," he had said to his wife, as he started,—"a +deal bigger head 'n ever. I tole Forrester I'd tell ye it was a good +trade, an' I done what I said I'd do. Forrester knowed what he was doin' +when he got me"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"G'long, you old gump!" his spouse had hurled at him wrathfully, ceasing +from a vigorous wringing of the mop to grasp the handle with a gesture +that was not entirely suggestive of industry.</p> + +<p>The old man had put up his hand and wriggled in between Melissa and +Lysander with a cur-like movement that brought a grim smile to his +son-in-law's face, and made Melissa shrink away from him noticeably. Out +in the orchard, however, he ceased to trouble them, being content to +smoke and doze by the ditch, while the water ran in a gentle, eddying +current from one basin to another, guided now and then by Lysander's +hoe.</p> + +<p>The boom of the blasting could be heard up the caņon, fainter as the +afternoon sea-breeze arose, and Melissa, standing barefoot in the warm, +sandy soil, let the water swirl about her ankles as she mended the +basins, and thought of the tall young surveyor who had bound up her +wounded arm.</p> + +<p>"I'm a-goin' to take his hankecher to him to-morruh. Bein' it's Sunday +they won't be blastin'."</p> + +<p>She leaned on her hoe and looked up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> caņon, where the blue of the +distant mountains showed soft and smoky among the branches of the +sycamores.</p> + +<p>"M'lissy!" Lysander called from the lower end of the row of +orange-trees, "hain't the ditch broke som'ers, or the water got into a +gopher-hole? There ain't no head to speak of."</p> + +<p>The girl turned quickly and looked about her. The water had settled into +the loose soil of the basins, and was no longer running in the furrow. +She walked across, following the main ditch to the edge of the caņon, +looking anxiously for the break. The wet sand rippled and glistened in +the bottom of the ditch, but no water was to be seen. Lysander, tired of +waiting, came striding through the tarweed, with his hoe on his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I guess it's broke furder on up the caņon, Sandy."</p> + +<p>Melissa stepped back, as she spoke, to let him precede her on the narrow +path, and the two walked silently beside the empty ditch. Lysander's +face gathered gloom as they went.</p> + +<p>"It's some deviltry, I'll bet!" he broke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> out, after a while. "Danged if +I don't begin to think yer maw's right!"</p> + +<p>Melissa did not ask in what her mother was vindicated; she had a dull +prescience of trouble. Things seemed generally to end in that way. She +turned to her poor hopeless little dream again, and kept close behind +Lysander's lank form all the way to Flutterwheel Spring.</p> + +<p>Alas! not to Flutterwheel Spring. Where the spray had whirled in a +fantastic spiral the day before, the moss was still wet, and the ferns +waved in happy unconsciousness of their loss; but the stream that had +flung itself from one narrow shelf of rock to another, in mad haste to +join the rush and roar of Sawpit Caņon, had utterly disappeared.</p> + +<p>Lysander turned to his companion, his face ashen-gray under the week-old +stubble of his beard. Neither of them spoke. The calamity lay too near +the source of things for bluster, even if Lysander had been capable of +bluster. In swift dual vision they saw the same cruel picture: the +shriveling orange-trees, the blighted harvest of figs dropping withered +from the trees, the flume<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> dry and useless, the horse-trough empty and +warping in the sun,—all the barren hopelessness of a mountain claim +without water, familiar to both. And through it all Melissa felt rather +than imagined the bitterness of her mother's wrath. Perhaps it was this +latter rather than the real catastrophe that whitened the poor young +face, turned toward Lysander in helpless dismay.</p> + +<p>"Danged if I don't hate the job o' tellin' yer maw," said the man at +last, raking the dry boulders with his hoe aimlessly,—"danged if I +don't. I can't figger out who's done it, but one thing's certain,—it +beats the devil."</p> + +<p>Lysander made the last statement soberly, as if this vindication of his +Satanic majesty were a simple act of justice. Seeming to consider the +phenomenon explained by a free confession of his own ignorance, he +ceased his investigation, and sat down on the edge of the ditch +hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"Don't le' 's tell mother right away, Sandy. Paw's fell asleep, an' +he'll think you turned the water off. Mebbe if we wait it'll begin to +run again." The hopefulness of youth crept into Melissa's quivering +voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lysander shook his head dismally.</p> + +<p>"I'm willin' enough to hold off, M'lissy, but I hain't got much hope. +There ain't any Moses around here developin' water, that I know of. The +meracle business seems to have got into the wrong hands this time; +danged if it hain't. It gets away with me how Forrester can dry up a +spring at long range that-a-way; there ain't a track in the mud around +here bigger 'n a linnet's,—not a track. It's pure deviltry, you can bet +on that." Lysander fell back on the devil with restful inconsistency, +and fanned himself with his straw hat, curled by much similar usage into +fantastic shapelessness.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe he done it," said Melissa, obstinately charitable. "I +don't believe anybody done it. I believe it just happened. I don't think +folks like them care about folks like us at all, or want to pester us. I +believe they just play on things and sing,"—the color mounted to her +face, until the freckles were drowned in the red flood,—"an' laugh, an' +talk, an' act pullite, an' that's all. I don't believe Colonel Forrester +hates mother like she thinks he does at all. I think he just don't +care!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the longest speech Melissa had ever made. Her listener seemed a +trifle impressed by it. He rubbed his hair the wrong way, and distorted +his face into a purely muscular grin, as he reflected.</p> + +<p>"I've a mind to go and see Poindexter," Lysander announced presently. +"Poindexter's a smart man, and I b'lieve he's a square man. 'T enny +rate, it can't do any good to keep it a secret. Folks'll find it out +sooner or later. You stay here a minute, M'lissy, and I'll go on up the +caņon."</p> + +<p>The young girl seated herself, with her back against a ledge of rocks, +and her bare feet straight out before her. She was used to waiting for +Lysander. Their companionship antedated everything else in Melissa's +memory, and she early became aware that Lysander's "minutes" were +fractions of time with great possibilities in the way of physical +comfort hidden in the depths of their hazy indefiniteness.</p> + +<p>She took off her corded sunbonnet, and crossed her hands upon it in her +lap. The shifting sunlight that fell upon her through the moving leaves +of the sycamores lent a grace to the angularity of her attitude. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +closed her eyes and listened drearily to the sounds of the caņon. The +water fretting its way among the boulders below, the desultory gossip of +the moving leaves, the shrill, iterative chirp of a squirrel scolding +insistently from a neighboring cliff,—all these were familiar sounds to +Melissa, and had often brought her relief from the rasping discomfort of +family contention; but to-day she refused to be comforted. She had the +California mountaineer's worship of water, and the gurgle of the stream +among the sycamores filled her with vague rebellion.</p> + +<p>"Why couldn't he 'a' let us alone?" she mused resentfully. "As long as +he had a share o' the spring it didn't show any signs o' dryin' up. +Mother never said nothin' about Flutterwheel to him; it was all his +doin's. But it's no use." She dropped her hands at her sides with a +little gesture of despair. "He never done it, but mother'll always think +so. She does hate him so—so—<i>pizenous</i>."</p> + +<p>There was a sound of approaching footsteps, and the girl scrambled to +her feet. It was not Lysander coming at that businesslike pace. +Sterling, hurrying along the path,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> became conscious of her standing +there, in the rigid awkwardness of unculture, and touched his hat +lightly.</p> + +<p>"Your father says the spring has stopped flowing," he said, pushing +aside the ferns where the rocks were yet slimy and moss-grown. "It is +certainly very strange."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," faltered the girl, rubbing the sole of one foot on the +instep of the other. "But Lysander ain't my father; he's my +brother-'n-law; he merried my sister."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," returned the young man absently, running his eye +along the stratum of rock in the ledge above them. "I believe he did +tell me he was not your father."</p> + +<p>No one had ever begged Melissa's pardon before. She meditated a while as +to the propriety of saying, "You're welcome," but gave it up, wondering +a little that polite society had made no provision for such an +emergency, and stood in awkward silence, tying and untying her +bonnet-strings.</p> + +<p>Sterling pursued his investigations in entire forgetfulness of her +presence, until Poindexter appeared in the path. Lysander followed, +managing, by length of stride,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> to keep up with the engineer's brisk +movements.</p> + +<p>There was much animated talk among the three men, which Melissa made no +attempt to follow. The two engineers smiled leniently at Lysander's +theory concerning Forrester, and fell into a discussion involving terms +which were incomprehensible to both their hearers. All that Melissa did +understand was the frank kindliness of the younger man's manner, and his +evident desire to allay their fears. Colonel Forrester, he assured +Lysander, was the kindest-hearted man in the world,—a piece of +information which seemed to carry more surprise than comfort to its +recipient. He would make it all right as soon as he knew of it, and they +would go down and see him at once; that is, Mr. Poindexter would go, and +he turned to Poindexter, who said, with quite as much kindliness, but a +good deal less fervor, that he was going down to Santa Elena that +evening to see the Colonel, and would mention the matter to him.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry yourself, Sproul," he added guardedly. "If we find out that +the work in the caņon has affected the spring, I think it will be all +right."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I reckon you won't be back before Monday?" said Lysander, with +interrogative ruefulness.</p> + +<p>"Well, hardly; but that isn't very long."</p> + +<p>"Folks can git purty dry in two days, 'specially temperance folks, and +some of our fam'ly 'll need somethin' to wet their whistles, for +there'll be a good deal o' talkin' done on the ranch between this and +Monday, if the water gives out." Lysander turned his back on Melissa, +who was pressing her bare foot in the soft wet earth at the bottom of +the ditch, and made an eloquent facial addition to his remarks, for the +benefit of the two men.</p> + +<p>Sterling looked mystified, but his companion laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that it? Well, turn some water from the sand-box into the old +flume and run it down to your new ditch until I get back. I presume the +ownership won't affect the taste. It isn't necessary to say anything +about it; that is, unless you think best." He looked toward Melissa +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"M'lissy won't blab," returned her brother-in-law laconically.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>The young girl blushed, in the security of her sunbonnet, at the +attention which this delicately turned compliment drew upon her, and +continued to make intaglios of her bare toes in the mud of the ditch.</p> + +<p>It occurred to Sterling for the first time that she might represent a +personality. He went around the other two men, who had fallen into some +talk about the flume, and stood in the path beside her.</p> + +<p>"I have not seen you since you were up the caņon," he said kindly. "I +hope your arm did not pain you."</p> + +<p>Melissa shook her head without looking up.</p> + +<p>"It was only a scratch; it didn't even swell up. I never said nothin' +about it," she added in a lower tone.</p> + +<p>The young man entered into the situation with easy social grace, and +lowered his own voice.</p> + +<p>"You didn't want to alarm your mother"—</p> + +<p>"M'lissy," interrupted Lysander, "I guess I'll go on up to the sand-box +with Mr. Poindexter and turn on some water. I wish you'd go 'long down +to the orchard and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> look after the basins till I git back. I won't be +gone but a minute."</p> + +<p>Sterling lifted his hat with a winsome smile that seemed to illuminate +the twilight of poor Melissa's wilted sunbonnet, and the three men +started up the caņon, the bay that they pushed aside on the path sending +back a sweet, spicy fragrance.</p> + +<p>Melissa shouldered her hoe and proceeded homeward.</p> + +<p>"He does act awful pullite," she mused, "an' he had on a ring: I didn't +know men folks ever wore rings. I wish I hadn't 'a' been barefooted."</p> + +<p>Poor Melissa! Sterling remembered nothing at all about her except a +certain unconsciously graceful turn she had given her brown ankle as she +stood pressing her bare foot in the sand.</p> + + +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p>On Sunday morning the Withrow establishment wore that air of inactivity +which seems in some households intended to express a mild form of piety. +Mother Withrow, it is true, had not yielded to the general weakness, and +stood at the kitchen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> table scraping the frying-pan in a resounding way +that might have interfered with the matin hymn of a weaker-lunged man +than Lysander. That stentorian musician seemed rather to enjoy it, as +giving him something definite to overcome vocally, and roared forth his +determination to "gather at the river" from the porch, where he sat with +his splint-bottomed chair tipped back, and his eyes closed in a seeming +ecstasy of religious fervor.</p> + +<p>Old Withrow sat on the step, with his chin in his hands, smoking, and +two dove-colored hounds stood, in mantel-ornament attitude, before him, +looking up with that vaguely expectant air which even a long life of +disappointment fails to erase from the canine countenance. Five or six +half-clad chickens, huddling together in the first strangeness of +maternal desertion, were drinking from an Indian mortar under the +hydrant, and mother Withrow, coming to the door to empty her dish-pan, +stood a moment looking at them.</p> + +<p>"That there hydrant's quit drippin' again," she said gruffly, turning +toward the old man. "Them young ones turned it on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> to get a drink, and +then turned it clear off. 'Pears to me they drink most o' the time. I'd +think they come by it honestly, if 't wuzn't water. If you ain't too +tired holdin' your head up with both hands, s'posin' you stir your +stumps and turn it on a drop fer them chickens."</p> + +<p>The old man got up with confused, vinous alacrity and started toward the +hydrant.</p> + +<p>"There's no need o' savin' water on this ranch," he blustered feebly, "I +kin tell you that. You'd ought to go up to the spring and see what a +good trade you made. I'm a-goin' myself by 'n' by. I knowed"—</p> + +<p>He broke off abruptly, as the old woman threw the dish-water dangerously +near him.</p> + +<p>"If water's so plenty, some folks had ought to soak their heads," she +retorted, disappearing through the door.</p> + +<p>The old man regulated the hydrant somewhat unsteadily, and returned to a +seat on the porch. Lysander's musical efforts had subsided to a not very +exultant hum at the first mention of the water supply. Evidently his +reflections on that subject were not conducive to religious enthusiasm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +Old Withrow assumed a confidential attitude and touched his son-in-law +on the knee.</p> + +<p>"She's always so full of her prejudisms," he said, pointing toward the +kitchen door with his thumb. "Now 'f she'd go 'long o' me up to the +spring and see what a tremenjus flow o' water there is, she'd be pleased +as Punch. Now wouldn't she?"</p> + +<p>Lysander brought his chair to the floor with a bang that made the loose +boards of the porch rattle.</p> + +<p>"Come 'round the house, pap," he said anxiously.</p> + +<p>The hounds followed, dejected, but hopeful, as became believers in +special providence.</p> + +<p>When the two men were out of hearing of the kitchen, Lysander took his +father-in-law by the shoulders and shook him, as if by shaking down the +loose contents of his brain he might make room for an idea.</p> + +<p>"You want to shut up about the spring. It's give out,—dried up. The +blastin' and diggin' in the caņon done it, I s'pose, an' +Poindexter—that's the engineer—thinks Forrester'll make it all right; +but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> you don't want to be coaxin' the old woman up there, not if the +court knows herself, and you want to keep your mouth purty ginerally +shut. D' y' understand?"</p> + +<p>The old man's face worked in a feeble effort at comprehension.</p> + +<p>"Give out,—dried up? Oh, come now, Lysander," he faltered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dried up, and you want to do the same. Don't you think this 'ud be +a purty good time fer you to take a trip off somer's fer your health, +pap?"</p> + +<p>The old man stood a moment wrestling with the hopelessness of the +situation. Besotted as he was, he could still realize the calamity that +had overtaken them: could realize it without the slightest ability to +suggest a remedy. As the direfulness of it all crept over him, something +very like anger gleamed through the blear of his faded eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm a-goin' to see," he muttered sullenly, turning toward the caņon. +"Damn their blastin'! Forrester said it was a good trade. He'd ought to +know."</p> + +<p>A little later, Melissa started on her much dreamed of visit to the +camp. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> had on her shoes now, and a comfortable sense of the +propriety of her appearance induced by this fact, and an excess of +starch in the skirt of her pink calico dress, brought a little flush of +expectation to her cheek. She had even looked longingly at her best hat +in its glory of green and purple millinery, and nothing but the absence +of any excuse to offer her mother and sister for such lavish personal +adornment had saved her from this final touch to the pathetic discord of +her attire.</p> + +<p>The silk handkerchief was in her pocket, properly "done up" and wrapped +in a bit of newspaper, and she had rehearsed her part in the dialogue +that a flattered imagination assured her must ensue upon its +presentation until she felt it hardly possible that she could blunder.</p> + +<p>"Somehow you don't feel so bashful when you're all dressed up," she +reflected, contemplating the angular obtrusiveness of her drapery with +the satisfaction that fills the soul of the average <i>débutante</i>. "You +feel so kind o' sheepish when you're barefooted and your dress is all +slimpsy."</p> + +<p>Poor Melissa! how could she know that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> yesterday, in all the limp +forlornness that had made her hang her head when Sterling spoke to her, +she had been a part of the beauty of the caņon, while to-day, in all her +pink and rigid glory, she was a garish spot of discordant color in the +landscape? How, indeed, do any of us know that we are not at our worst +in our most triumphant moments?</p> + +<p>The camp was well-nigh deserted, that morning. Poindexter had gone to +Santa Elena to consult his employer, and most of the workmen had +preferred the convivial joys of the Mexican saloon at San Gabriel to the +stillness of the caņon. Sterling had written a few letters after +breakfast, and then, taking his rifle from the rack, sauntered along the +little path that led from the camp to the tunnel. The Chinese cook was +dexterously slipping the feathers from a clammy fowl at the door of the +kitchen tent.</p> + +<p>"Hello, John," the young man called cheerfully. "What for you cook +chicken? I go catchee venison for dinner."</p> + +<p>The Chinaman smiled indulgently. Evidently the deer hunts of the past +had not been brilliantly successful.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I fly one lit' chicken," he said composedly. "He no velly big. By 'm by +you bling labbit, I fly him too."</p> + +<p>"Rabbit!" laughed back the hunter contemptuously, breaking his rifle and +peering into the breech to see that it was loaded. "I'll not waste a +cartridge on a rabbit, John."</p> + +<p>He lapsed from pigeon English with an ease that betokened a newcomer. +The Chinaman looked after him pensively.</p> + +<p>"Mist' Stellin' heap velly nice man," he said, with gentle +condescension; "all same he <i>no sabe</i> shoot. By 'm by he come home, he +heap likee my little flied looster."</p> + +<p>He held his "little rooster" rigidly erect by its elongated legs, and +patiently picked the pin-feathers from its back. He had finished this +process, and, suspending it by one wing in an attitude of patient +suffering, was singeing it with a blazing paper, when Melissa appeared.</p> + +<p>"What you want, gell?" he demanded autocratically, noticing that she +carried no pail.</p> + +<p>"Where is the young man,—the tall one?" asked Melissa.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Young man? Mist' Stellin'? He take 'im gun an' go catchee labbit."</p> + +<p>He waved his torch in the direction of the path, and then dropped it on +the ground and stamped it out with his queerly shod foot.</p> + +<p>Melissa hesitated a moment. She could not risk the precious handkerchief +in the hands of the cook. No one else was visible. Two or three workmen +were sleeping in the large tent under the wild grapevine. She could hear +them breathing in loud nasal discord. It was better to go on up the +caņon, she persuaded herself with transparent logic.</p> + +<p>"It's purty hard walkin' when you've got your shoes on," she said, +justifying her course by its difficulties, with the touch of Puritanism +that makes the whole theological world kin, "but if I give it to him +myself I'll know he's got it."</p> + +<p>She glanced in at the door of the engineer's tent, as she passed. The +banjo was there, a point of dazzling light to her eyes, but otherwise +the disorder was far from elegant; resulting chiefly from that reckless +prodigality in head and foot gear which seems to be a phase of masculine +culture.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't see what they want of so many hats and shoes," commented +Melissa. "I sh'd think they could go barefooted sometimes, to rest their +feet; an' I didn't know folks' heads ever got tired." The thought +recalled her own disappointment in the matter of millinery. She put her +hand up to the broken rim of her hat. "I've a notion to take it off when +I ketch up to him," she soliloquized. "I would if my hair wasn't so +awful red."</p> + +<p>Old Withrow had preceded his daughter, stumbling along the flume path, +muttering sullenly. All his groundless elation had suddenly turned to +equally groundless wrath. Having allied himself in a stupid, servile way +with Forrester, he clung to the alliance and its feeble reflected glory +with all the tenacity of ignorance. There were not many connected links +of cause and effect in the old man's muddled brain, but the value of +water, for irrigating purposes only, had a firm lodgment there, along +with the advantages to be derived from friendliness with the owner of a +winery. There stirred in him a groveling desire to exonerate Forrester.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They're blastin', be they? Forrester never said nothin' 'bout blastin'. +He'll give it to 'em when he knows it. He'll blast 'em!"</p> + +<p>He staggered on past the cut-off that led to the camp, keeping well up +on the bank along the path beside the ditch that Lysander had dug from +Flutterwheel Spring. Once there, the sight of the ruin that had befallen +his plans seemed to strike him dumb for a little. The slime still clung +to the rocks, and a faint trickle of water oozed into the pool. He sat +down a moment, mumbling sullen curses, and then staggered to his feet +and wandered aimlessly up the caņon.</p> + +<p>Sterling had idled along, crossing and recrossing the restless stream +that appeared to be hurrying away from the quiet of the mountains. He +was really not a very enthusiastic hunter, as the Chinaman had +discovered. He liked the faint, sickening odor of the brakes and the +honey-like scent of the wild immortelles that came in little warm gusts +from the cliffs above far better than the smell of powder. He stopped +where the men had been at work the day before,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> and looked about with +that impartial criticism that always seems easier when nothing is being +done.</p> + +<p>Some idea must have suggested itself suddenly, for he hurried across to +the opening of the tunnel and went in, leaving his rifle beside the +entrance. When he turned to come out, he heard a sound of muttered +curses, and in another instant he was confronted by the barrel of a gun +in the hands of a man he had never seen,—a man with wandering, +bloodshot eyes, which the change from the half-light of the tunnel's +mouth magnified into those of an angry beast.</p> + +<p>"You've been a-blastin', have ye, an' a-dryin' up other folks's springs? +Damn ye, I'll blast ye!"</p> + +<p>The old man was striving in vain to hold the rifle steadily, and +fumbling with the lock. Sterling did not stop to note that the weapon +was his own, and might easily be thrust aside. He did what most young +men would have done—drew his revolver from his pocket and fired.</p> + +<p>The report echoed up and down the caņon. By the time it died away life +had changed for the younger man. Old Withrow had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> fallen forward, still +clutching the rifle, and was dead.</p> + +<p>Melissa, standing among the sycamores below, had seen it all as a +sudden, paralyzing vision. She stood still a brief, terrified instant, +and then turned and ran down the caņon, keeping in the bed of the +stream, and climbing over the boulders.</p> + +<p>She was conscious of nothing but a wild dismay that she had seen it. She +had a vague hope that she might run away from her own knowledge. The +swift, unreasoning notion had lodged itself in her brain that it would +be better if no one knew what had happened. Perhaps no one else need be +told. She avoided the camp, scrambling through the chaparral on the +opposite bank, and, reaching the flume path at last, hurried on +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Melissa stopped. It would not do to approach the house in that +way. She must rest a little and cool her flushed face before any one +should see her. She leaned against the timbers that supported the flume +across the gully, and fanned herself with her hat. The tumult of her +brain had not shaped itself into any plan. She only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> wished she had not +seen. It was such a dreadful thing to know, to tell. Insensibly she was +preparing herself to dissemble. She was cooling her cheeks, and getting +ready to saunter lazily toward the house and speak indifferently. She +did not realize that after that she could not tell. There would be an +instant in which to decide, and then a dreary stretch of dissimulation.</p> + +<p>At this moment she heard the quick hoofbeats of a galloping horse on +the road that led down the mountain-side. He was going away! Then +certainly she must not speak. They would never find him, and she would +keep the secret forever. She listened until the hoof-beats died away. +The flush faded out of her poor little face, leaving it wan and +hopeless. After all, it was a dreary thing for him to ride away, and +leave her nothing but a dismal secret such as this. A shred of cloud +drifted across the sun, and the caņon suddenly became a cold, cheerless +place. She stepped into the path, and came face to face with Lysander.</p> + +<p>"Have yuh seen anything of yer paw, M'lissy? Why, what ails yuh, child? +Y'r as white as buttermilk. Has anything bit yuh?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," faltered the girl, looking down at her wretched finery; "my shoes +'a' been a-hurtin' my feet. I'm goin' back to the house to take 'em off. +I'm tired."</p> + +<p>"I wish y'd set right down here and take off y'r shoes, M'lissy," said +her brother-in-law anxiously. "We'll have to kind o' watch yer paw. I +had to tell 'im about the spring, an' he struck off right away an' said +he was goin' up there. I reckoned he'd go away an' furgit it, but he +hain't come back yit. I'm afraid he'll git to talkin' when he comes back +to the house, and tell yer maw. It won't do no good, an' there ain't no +use in her workin' herself up red-headed about it,—'t enny rate not +till Poindexter comes back. We must git hold o' yer paw before he gits +to see her, and brace 'im up ag'in. If you'll set here an' call to me if +you see 'im below, I'll go on up an' look fer 'im."</p> + +<p>Melissa had stood quite still, looking down at the uncompromising lines +of her drapery. It was rapidly becoming a pink blur to her gaze. The +ghastliness of what she had undertaken to conceal came over her like a +chill, insweeping fog. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> shivered as she spoke, trying in vain to +return Lysander's honest gaze.</p> + +<p>"I'll come back an' set here when I've took off my shoes. You kin go on. +I'll come in a minute."</p> + +<p>Lysander looked into her face an instant as he started.</p> + +<p>"The seam o' yer stockin' 's got over the j'int, M'lissy," he said +kindly; "it's made you sick at yer stummick; y'r as white as taller."</p> + + +<h3>VI.</h3> + +<p>Old Withrow entered his own house with dignity at last.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, when the spiritual and presumably the better part of +us is gone, the world stands in awe of what remains. If the bleared eyes +could have opened once more, and the dead man could have known that it +was for fear of him the children were gathered in a whispering, +awestricken group at the window, that respect for him caused the +lowering of voices and baring of heads on the part of the household and +curious neighbors, he would suddenly have found the world he had left a +stranger place than any world to come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was no great pretense of grief. Mother Withrow looked at the dead +face a while, supporting her elbow with one knotted hand, and grasping +her weather-beaten jaw with the other. Perhaps her silence would have +been the strangest feature of it all to him, if he could have known. If +the years hid any romance that had been theirs, and was now hers, the +old woman's face told no more of it than the flinty outside of a boulder +tells of the leaf traced within.</p> + +<p>"He wuzn't no great shakes of a man," she said to Minerva, "but I don't +'low to have him stood up an' shot at by any o' Nate Forrester's crowd +without puttin' the law on the man that done it."</p> + +<p>Lysander's attempt at concealment had melted away in the heat of the +excitement occasioned by the murder. The drying up of the spring had +been no secret in camp. The men who had carried Withrow's body to the +house had talked of it unrebuked. Mother Withrow had heard them with a +tightening of the muscles of her face and an increased angularity in her +tall figure, but she had proudly refrained from the faintest +manifestation of surprise. Nor had she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> asked any questions of Minerva +or Lysander. This unexpected reserve had been a great relief to the +latter, who found himself not only released from an unpleasant duty, but +saved from any reproaches for concealment.</p> + +<p>The coroner had come up from Los Angeles, and there had been an inquest. +Sterling had not been present, having ridden to Los Angeles to give +himself up; but the men to whom he had told the story when he came to +the camp had testified, and there had been a verdict that deceased came +to his death from a wound made by a revolver in the hands of Frederick +Sterling.</p> + +<p>Some of the jury still hung about the place with cumbrous attempts at +helpfulness, and Minerva moved tearfully to and fro in the kitchen, +wearing her husband's hat with a reckless assumption of masculine rights +and feminine privileges, while she set out a "bite of something" for the +coroner, who must ride back to Los Angeles in hot haste.</p> + +<p>Ulysses had denied himself the unwonted pleasure of listening longer to +the men's whispered talk, to follow the stranger into the kitchen and +watch him eat; his curiosity concerning the habits of that dignitary +be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>ing considerably heightened by the official's haste, which pointed +strongly to a rapid succession of murders requiring his personal +attention, and marking him as a man of dark and bloody knowledge.</p> + +<p>The hounds shared the boy's curiosity, and stood beside the table waving +their scroll-like tails, and watching with expectant eagerness the +unerring precision with which the stranger conveyed a knife-load of +"frijoles" from his plate to his mouth. When he had finished his repast, +gulping the last half-glass of buttermilk, and wiping the white beads +from his overhanging mustache with quick horizontal sweeps of his gayly +bordered handkerchief, he leaned back and flipped a bean at Ulysses, +whose expression of intent and curious awe changed instantly to the most +sheepish self-consciousness. The familiarity loosened his tongue, +however, and he asked, with a little explosive gasp,—</p> + +<p>"Do yuh think they'll ketch 'im?"</p> + +<p>"Ketch who?"</p> + +<p>"The man that shot gran'pap."</p> + +<p>"They've got 'im now."</p> + +<p>"Hev they? How'd they ketch 'im?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He gave himself up."</p> + +<p>"Will they hang 'im?"</p> + +<p>The coroner's eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think they'd ought to?"</p> + +<p>"You bet!" Ulysses wagged his head with bloodthirsty vehemence.</p> + +<p>The great man got up, laughing, and went toward the door, rubbing the +boy's hair the wrong way as he passed him. The hounds followed +languidly, and Ulysses darted up the creaking staircase, and tumbled +into the little attic room where Melissa sat gazing drearily out of the +window.</p> + +<p>"They've got 'im!'" he said breathlessly. "They're a-go'n' to hang 'im!"</p> + +<p>The girl got up and backed toward the wall, gasping and dizzy.</p> + +<p>"Who said so?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"The man downstairs,—the one that came from Loss Anglus."</p> + +<p>Melissa put the palms of her outstretched hands against the wall behind +her to steady herself. In the half-light she seemed crowding away from +some terror that confronted her.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it. They won't do anything to him right away; it +wouldn't be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> fair. They don't know what paw done. I"—</p> + +<p>Her voice broke. She looked about piteously, biting her lip and trying +to remember what she had said.</p> + +<p>Ulysses was not a critical listener. He had enjoyed his little +sensation, and was ready for another. From the talk downstairs he knew +that Sterling had acknowledged the killing to the men at the camp. His +excitement made him indifferent as to the source of Melissa's +information.</p> + +<p>"I'm go'n' to the hangin'," he said, doggedly boastful.</p> + +<p>Melissa looked at him vacantly.</p> + +<p>"How'd they find out who done it?" she asked, dropping her hands and +turning toward the window.</p> + +<p>"He told it hisself,—blabbed it right out to the men at the camp; then +he went on down to Loss Anglus, big as life, an' blowed about it there. +He's cheeky."</p> + +<p>Melissa turned on him with a flash of contempt.</p> + +<p>"You said they ketched him."</p> + +<p>The boy felt his importance as the bearer of sensational tidings ebbing +away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't care," he replied sullenly. "They'll hang 'im, anyway: the +cor'ner said so."</p> + +<p>He clutched his throat with his thumbs and forefingers, thrusting out +his tongue and rolling his eyes in blood-curdling pantomime.</p> + +<p>His companion turned away drearily. The boy's first words had called up +a vaguely outlined picture of flight, pursuit, and capture, possibly +violence. This faded away, leaving her brain numb under its burden of +uncertainty and deceit. She had an aching consciousness of her own +ignorance. Others knew what might happen to him, but she must not even +ask. She shrank in terror from what her curiosity might betray. She must +stand idly by and wait. Perhaps Lysander would know; if she could ask +any one, she could ask Lysander. There had sprung up in her mind a +shadowy, half-formed doubt concerning the wisdom of her silence. He had +told it himself, Ulysses had said; and this had chilled the little glow +at her heart that came from a sense of their common secret. If she could +only see him and ask what he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> have her do; but that was +impossible. Perhaps, if he knew she had seen it, he might say she must +tell, even if—even if— She gave a little moan, and leaned her forehead +against the sash. Below she could hear the subdued voices of the men, +and the creaking of the kitchen floor as Minerva walked to and fro, +putting away the remnants of the coroner's repast. Already the children +were beginning to recover from their awestricken silence, and Melissa +could see them darting in and out among the fig-trees, firing pantomimic +revolvers at each other with loud vocal explosions.</p> + +<p>The gap that the old man's death had made in the household was very +slight indeed; not half the calamity that the drying up of the spring +had been. Melissa acknowledged this to herself with the candor peculiar +to the very wise and the very ignorant, who alone seem daring enough to +look at things as they are.</p> + +<p>"They hadn't ought to do anything to 'im; it ain't fair," she said to +herself stoutly; "an' he just stood up an' told on hisself because he +knowed he hadn't done anything bad. I sh'd think they'd be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> ashamed of +themselves to do anything to 'im after that."</p> + +<p>"M'lissy!" Mrs. Sproul called from the foot of the stairs, her voice +dying away in a prolonged sniffle. "I wish 't you'd come down and help +Lysander hook up the team. He's got to go down t' the Mission, and it'll +be 'way into the night before he gets back."</p> + +<p>The girl stood still a moment, biting her lip, and then hurried across +the floor and down the staircase as if pursued. Minerva had left the +kitchen, and there was no one to notice her unusual haste. Out at the +barn, Lysander, almost disabled by the accession of a stiff white shirt +and collar, was perspiring heavily in his haste to harness the mules.</p> + +<p>"Minervy's got 'er heart set on havin' the Odd Fellers conduct the +funer'l," he said apologetically. "Strikes me kind o' onnecessary, but +'t won't do no harm, I s'pose. She says yer paw was an Odd Feller 'way +back, but he ain't kep' it up. I dunno if they'll bury 'im or not."</p> + +<p>The girl listened to him absently, straightening the mule's long ear +which was caught<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> in the headstall, and fastening the buckles of the +harness. Her face was hidden by her drooping sunbonnet, and Lysander +could not see its pinched, quivering whiteness. They led the mules out +of the stable and backed them toward the wagon standing under a live +oak. Melissa bent over to fasten the tugs, and asked in a voice steadied +to lifeless monotony,—</p> + +<p>"Do you think they'll do anything to him for it, Lysander?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno, M'lissy," said the man. "He told the men at the camp it was +self-defense, and mebbe he can prove it; but bein' no witnesses, they +may lock 'im up fer a year or two, just to give 'im time to cool off. +It'll be good fer 'im. He oughtn't to be so previous with his firearms."</p> + +<p>"But paw was—they don't know—mebbe"—panted the girl brokenly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, M'lissy, I don't doubt yer paw was aggravatin'; but we don't +know, and we'd better not take sides. The young feller ain't nothin' to +us, an' yer paw was—well, he was yer <i>paw</i>, we've got to remember +that."</p> + +<p>Lysander put his foot on the hub and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> mounted to the high seat, +gathering up the reins and putting on the brake. The mules started +forward, and then held back in a protesting way, and the wagon went +creaking and scraping through the sand down the mountain road.</p> + + +<h3>VII.</h3> + +<p>In the days that passed wearisomely enough before the trial, Melissa +heard much that did not tend to soothe her harassed little soul. +Lysander, having taken refuge behind the assertion that it "wasn't +becomin' fer the fam'ly to take sides," bore his mother-in-law's +stinging sarcasms in virtuous silence.</p> + +<p>"Seems to me it depends on which side you take," sneered the old woman. +"I don't see anything so very impullite in gettin' mad when yer pap's +shot down like a dog."</p> + +<p>Lysander braced himself judicially.</p> + +<p>"We don't none of us know nothin' about it," he contended. "If I'd 'a' +been there and 'a' seen the scrimmage, I'd 'a' knowed what to think. As +'tis, I dunno what to think, and there's no law that kin make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> you think +when you don't hev no fax to base your thinkun' on."</p> + +<p>"Some folks lacks other things besides fax to base their thinkun' on," +the old woman jerked out sententiously.</p> + +<p>Lysander pressed the tobacco into his cob pipe, and scratched a match on +the sole of his boot.</p> + +<p>"I think they've been middlin' fair," he said, between puffs, "fixin' up +that water business. It's my opinion the young feller's at the bottom of +it,—they say his father's well off; 't enny rate, it's <i>fixed</i>, an' +you're better off 'n you wuz,—exceptin', uv course, your affliction, +an' that can't be helped." The man composed his voice very much as he +would have straightened a corpse in which he had no personal interest. +"I'm in fer shuttin' up."</p> + +<p>"They don't seem to want you to shut up," fretted his mother-in-law. +"They've s'peenied <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"They're welcome to all I know; 'tain't much, an' 't won't help nor +hender, as I c'n see, but such as it is, they kin hev it an' welcome."</p> + +<p>Lysander stood in the doorway, with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> hat on the back of his head. He +tilted it over his eyes, as he made this avowal, and sauntered toward +the stable, with his head thrown back, peering from under the brim, as +if its inconvenient position were a matter entirely beyond his control.</p> + +<p>Melissa was washing dishes at a table in the corner of the kitchen. She +hurried a little, trembling in her eagerness to speak to Lysander alone. +She carried the dishpan to the kitchen door to empty it, and the +chickens came scuttling with half-flying strides from the shade of the +geraniums where they were dusting themselves, and then fled with a +chorus of dismayed squawks as the dish-water splashed among them. The +girl hung the pan on a nail outside, and flung her apron over her head. +She could see Lysander's tilted hat moving among the low blue gums +beside the shed. She drew the folds of her apron forward to shade her +face, and went down the path with a studied unconcern that sat as ill +upon her as haste. Lysander was mending the cultivator; he looked up, +but not as high as her face.</p> + +<p>"'Llo, M'lissy," he said, as kindly as was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> compatible with a rusty bit +of wire between his teeth.</p> + +<p>The girl leaned against the shaded side of a stack of baled barley hay.</p> + +<p>"Lysander," she began quaveringly, "Lysander, if you'd seen paw shot, +an' knowed all about it, could they make you tell—would you think you'd +ought to tell?" She hurried her questions as they had been crowding in +her sore conscience. "I mean, of course, if you'd seen it, Lysander."</p> + +<p>Her brother-in-law straightened himself, and set his hat on the back of +his head without speaking. Melissa could feel him looking at her +curiously.</p> + +<p>"Of course, that's all I mean, Lysander,—just if you'd seen it; would +you tell?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"M'lissy," said the man impressively, "if I'd seen my own paw killed, +an' nobody asked me to tell, I'd keep my mouth most piously shut; that's +what I'd do."</p> + +<p>"But if he was mad, Sandy, an' tried to kill somebody else, and, +oh,"—her voice broke into a piteous wail,—"if they wuz thinkun' o' +hangin' 'im!"</p> + +<p>"They ain't a-goin' to hang nobody,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> M'lissy," said Lysander +confidently,—"hangin' has gone out o' fashion. And I don't think it's +becomin' fer the fam'ly to interfere, especially the women folks; +besides, we don't none of us know nothin' about it, you see. Don't you +fret about things you don't know nothin' about. The law'll have to take +its course, M'lissy. That young feller's goin' to git off +reasonable,—very reasonable, indeed, considerin'."</p> + +<p>Melissa rubbed her feet in the loose straw, restless and uncomforted.</p> + +<p>"When's the trial, Lysander?" she asked, after a little pause, during +which her companion resumed his encounter with the rusty wire he was +straightening.</p> + +<p>"The trial, M'lissy, is set for tuhmorruh," Lysander replied, a trifle +oracularly. "I'm a-goin' down because they've sent fer me; if they +hadn't 'a' sent, I wouldn't 'a' gone. I don't know nothin' exceptin' +that yer paw had one of his spells,"—inebriety was always thus +decorously cloaked in Lysander's domestic conversation,—"an' went off +up the caņon that mornin' r'arin' mad about the spring. Of course they +don't know that's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> all I know,—if they knowed it, perhaps they wouldn't +want me; but if they hadn't sent fer me, you can bet I'd stick at home +closer'n a scale-bug to an orange-tree, Melissy, perticular if I was a +young girl, an' didn't know nothin' whatever about the hull fracas. An' +young girls ain't expected to know about such things; it ain't proper +fer 'em, especially when they're members of the fam'ly."</p> + +<p>This piece of highly involved wisdom quieted Melissa very much as a +handkerchief stuffed into a sufferer's mouth allays his pain. She went +about the rest of the day silent and distressed.</p> + +<p>At daybreak the next morning, Lysander harnessed the dun-colored mules +and drove to Los Angeles.</p> + +<p>The sun rose higher, and the warm dullness of a California summer day +settled down upon the little mountain ranch. Heat seemed to rise in +shimmering waves from the yellow barley stubble. The orange-trees cast +dense shadows with no coolness in them, and along the edge of the +orchard the broad leaves of the squash-vines hung in limp dejection upon +their stalks. The heated air<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> was full of pungent odors: tar and honey +and spice from the sage and eucalyptus, with now and then a warmer puff +of some new wild fragrance from far up the mountain-side.</p> + +<p>"We're a-goin' to have three hot days," said Mrs. Sproul, looking +anxiously over the valley from the shelter of her husband's hat. +"Sandy'll swelter, bein' dressed up so. I do hope they won't keep him +long. He don't know nothin' about it, noway. Seems to me they might 'a' +believed him, when he said so."</p> + +<p>Mother Withrow had fallen into a silence full of the eloquence of +offended dignity, when Lysander disappeared. Like all tyrannical souls, +she was beginning to feel a bitterness worse than that of +opposition,—the bitterness of deceit. She knew that Lysander had +deceived her, and the knowledge was bearing its fruit of humiliation and +chagrin. The evident liberality of Forrester's course in deeding her a +share of the caņon, greater, it was said, than the loss occasioned by +the drying up of Flutterwheel Spring, had struck at the root of hatreds +and preconceptions that were far more vital to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> than the mere +proprietorship of the water right. She felt hampered and defrauded by +the circumstances that forbade her to turn and fling the gift back in +his face. To this grim, gray-haired tyrant, dying of thirst seemed sweet +compared with the daily bitterness of hearing her enemy praised for his +generosity. She sat in the doorway fanning herself with her apron, and +made no reply to her daughter's anxious observation.</p> + +<p>"I calc'lated to rub out a few things this mornin'," continued Mrs. +Sproul, "but somehow I don't feel like settlin' down to washin' or +anythin'; an' the baby's cross, bein' all broke out with the heat. I +wonder what's become of M'lissy."</p> + +<p>"She's up in the oak-tree out at the barn," called William T. Sherman, +who with other fraternal generals was holding a council of war over a +gopher caught in a trap. "Letterlone; she's as cross as Sam Patch."</p> + +<p>"M'lissy takes her paw's death harder 'n I calc'lated she'd do," +commented Minerva, virtuously conventional; "she's a good deal upset."</p> + +<p>The old woman sniffed audibly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I reckon you'll all live through it," she said frostily.</p> + +<p>Melissa, swinging her bare feet from a branch of the dense live oak in +the barnyard, had watched Lysander's departure with wistful eagerness, +entirely unaware that he had divined her secret, and was mannishly +averse to having the "women folks" of his family mixed up in a murder +trial. Now that he was really gone, and she was left to the dreariness +of her own reflections, she grew wan and white with misery.</p> + +<p>"I had ought to 'a' told it," she moaned. "If they don't hang 'im, they +may put 'im in jail, and that's awful." She thought of him, so straight +and lithe and gay, grown pale and wretched; manacled, according to +Ulysses's graphic description, with iron chains so heavy that he could +not rise; kept feebly alive on bread and water, and presided over by a +jailer whose ingenious cruelty knew no limit but the liveliness of the +boy's fiendish imagination.</p> + +<p>"A year or two," Lysander had said, as if it were a trifle. She looked +back a year, and tried to measure the time, losing herself in the hazy +monotony of her past, and con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>scious only of the remoteness of certain +events that served as landmarks in her simple experience,—events not +yet two years distant.</p> + +<p>"Orange-pickun' before last ain't nigh two years ago," she mused, "an' +'t ain't a year yet sence Lysander hauled grapes from the Mission to the +winery; an' the year before that he was over to Verdugo at the +bee-ranch, an' come home fer the grape-haulin' at Santa Elena. That's +when Hooker was born; he'll be two years old this fall; it's ever so +long ago. He couldn't stand bein' in jail that long; some folks could, +but he couldn't. He sings, and laughs out loud, and goes tearin' around +so lively. It 'ud kill 'im."</p> + +<p>She slipped down from the tree, and started toward the house. The path +was hot to her bare feet, and the wind came in heated gusts from the +mountains. The young turkeys panted, with uplifted wings, in the shade +of the dusty geraniums, whose scarlet blossoms were glowing in fierce +tropical enjoyment of the glaring sun. The hounds went languidly, with +lolling tongues, from one shaded spot to another, blinking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> their +comments on the weather at their human companions, and snapping in a +half-hearted way at unwary flies.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sproul and her mother were still seated on the little porch when +Melissa appeared.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you come in out of the heat, child?" called her sister, as +reproachfully as if Melissa were going in the opposite direction. "We +hain't had such a desert wind for more 'n a year. I keep thinkin' about +Lysander. I've heern of people bein' took down with the heat, and havin' +trouble ever afterward with their brains."</p> + +<p>"Lysander ain't a-goin' to have any trouble with his brains," said her +mother significantly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sproul turned a highly insulted gaze upon the old woman's impassive +face, and tilted her husband's hat defiantly above her diminutive, +freckled countenance.</p> + +<p>"Lysander kin have as much trouble with his brains as anybody," she +said, with bantam-like dignity, straightening her limp calico back, and +tightening her grasp on the baby in her arms.</p> + +<p>The old woman elevated her shaggy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> brows, and made a half-mocking sound +in imitation of the spitting of an angry kitten.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sproul's pale blue eyes filled with indignant tears, and she turned +toward Melissa, who looked up from the step, a gleam of sisterly +sympathy lighting up the wan dejection of her young face.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't fret, Minervy," she said kindly; "Lysander don't mind the +heat. People never get sunstruck here; it's only back East. I don't +think it's so very warm, nohow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's hot enough," sniffled Mrs. Sproul, relaxing her spine under +Melissa's sympathy; "but it ain't altogether the heat. I don't like +Lysander bein' mixed up with murderers and dangerous characters; not but +what he's able to pertect himself, havin' been through the war, but it +seems as if the harmlessest person wuzn't safe when folks go 'round +shootin' right an' left without no provocation whatever. I think we'll +all be safer when that young feller's locked up in San Quentin,—which +they'll do with him, Lysander thinks."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sproul drew a corner of her apron tight over her finger, and +carefully wiped a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> speck from the corner of the baby's eye, gazing +intently into the serene vacuity of its sleeping countenance as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>Melissa caught her breath, and turned and gazed fixedly through the +shimmering haze of the valley toward Los Angeles. The girl herself did +not know the resolution that was shaping itself from all the tangled +facts and fancies of her brain. Perhaps, if she had been held to strict +account, she would have said it was an impulse, "a sudden notion" in her +parlance, that prompted her to arise the next morning, before the +faintest thrill of dawn, and turn her steps toward the town in the +valley. It was not a hopeful journey, and she could not analyze the +motive that lashed her into making it; nevertheless she felt relieved +when the greasewood shut the cabin, with its trailing pepper-trees and +dusty figs and geraniums, from her sight, and she was alone on the +mountain road. It was not a pleasure to go, but it was an undeniable +hardship to stay. There had been no fog in the night, and from the warm +stillness of the early morning air the girl knew that the heat had not +abated. She was quite un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>mindful of the landscape, gray and brown and +black in the waning light of the misshapen and belated moon, and she was +far from knowing that the man she was making this journey to save would +have thought her a fitting central figure in the soft blur of the +Millet-like etching of which she formed a part.</p> + +<p>She threw back her sunbonnet and trudged along, carrying her shoes tied +together by their leathern strings and hung across her arm,—an +impediment to progress, but a concession to urban prejudices which she +did not dream of disregarding. She meant to put them on in the seclusion +of the Arroyo Seco, where she could bathe her dusty feet and rest +awhile; but remembering the heat of yesterday, she wished to make the +most of the early morning, deadly still and far from refreshing though +it was. The sea-breeze would come up later, she hoped, not without +misgivings; and the grapes were beginning to turn in the vineyards along +the road; she would have something to eat with the bit of corn-bread in +her pocket. Altogether she was not greatly concerned about herself or +the difficulties of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> her journey, so absorbed was she in the vague +uncertainty that lay at its end.</p> + +<p>The sun rose hot and pitiless, and the dust and stones of the road grew +more and more scorching to her feet. The leaves of the wild gourd, lying +in great star-shaped patches on the ground, drooped on their stems, and +the spikes of dusty white sage by the road hung limp at the ends, and +filled the air with their wilted fragrance. The sea-breeze did not come +up, and in its stead gusts of hot wind from the north swept through the +valley as if from the door of a furnace. People talked of it afterward +as "the hot spell of 18—," but in Melissa's calendar it was "the day I +walked to Loss Anjelus,"—a day so fraught with hopes and fears, so full +of dim uncertainties and dread and longing, that the heat seemed only a +part of the generally abnormal conditions in which she found herself.</p> + +<p>It was afternoon before she reached the end of her journey, entering the +town between rows of low, soft-tinted adobes, on the steps of which +white-shirted men and dusky, lowbrowed women and children ate melons and +laughed lazily at their neigh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>bors, showing their gleaming teeth. She +knew where the courthouse stood, its unblushing ugliness protected by +the rusty Frémont cannon, and made her way wearily toward it through the +more modern and busier streets.</p> + +<p>The men who sat in front of the stores in various degrees of undress, +slapping each other resoundingly on their thinly clad backs, and +discussing the weather with passers-by in loud, jocular tones, were, to +Melissa's sober country sense, a light-minded, flippant crowd, to whom +life could have no serious aspect. She looked at them indifferently, as +they sat and joked, or ran in and out of open doors where there was a +constant fizz as of something perpetually boiling over, and made her way +among them, quite unmindful of her dusty shoes and wilted sunbonnet, and +yet vaguely conscious that at another time she might have cared.</p> + +<p>At the door of the courthouse, two of this same loosely clad, noisy, +perspiring species were slapping their thighs and choking in hilarious +appreciation of something which a third was reading from an open<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> paper. +The reader made way for Melissa, backing and reading at the same time, +and the sound of their strangely incongruous mirth followed her up the +narrow, unswept, paper-strewn staircase into the stifling heat of the +second floor. She stopped there an instant, leaning against the railing, +uncertain what to do.</p> + +<p>One of a pair of double doors opened, and a young man, swinging an +official-looking document, crossed the hall as if he might be walking in +his sleep, and went into a room beyond; kicking the door open, catching +it with his foot, and kicking it to behind him with a familiarity that +betokened long acquaintance, and inspired Melissa with confidence in his +probable knowledge of the intricate workings of justice. She stood still +a moment, clutching the limp folds of her skirt, until the young man +returned; then she took a step forward.</p> + +<p>"I've come to tell what I know about the shootin'. I saw it," she +faltered.</p> + +<p>The somnambulistic young man shut one eye, and inclined his ear toward +her without turning his head.</p> + +<p>"Shooting? What shooting?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Up in Sawpit Caņon—Mr. Sterling done it—but I saw it—nobody knows +it, though." The words came in short, palpitating sentences that died +away helplessly.</p> + +<p>Her listener hesitated for an instant, scratching the blonde plush of +his cropped scalp with his lead-pencil. Then he stepped forward and +kicked one of the double doors open, holding it with his automatic foot.</p> + +<p>"Bawb! oh, <i>Bawb!</i>" he called; "'m yer."</p> + +<p>A short fat man, with an unbuttoned vest and a general air of excessive +perspiration, waddled past the bailiff and confronted Melissa. He smiled +when he saw her, displaying an upper row of teeth heavily trimmed with +gold, a style of personal adornment which impressed Melissa anew with +the vagaries of masculine city taste.</p> + +<p>"Witness in the Withrow murder case, pros'cuting 'torney," said the +bailiff over his shoulder, by way of introduction, as he disappeared +through the door.</p> + +<p>Melissa looked at the newcomer, trembling and dumb.</p> + +<p>"Come in here, my girl," he said, steaming ahead of her through a door +in front of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> them; "come right in here. Is it pretty hot up your way?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," she quavered, not taking the chair he cleared for her. "I +come down to tell about the shootin': I'd ought to 'a' told before, but +I was scared. Mr. Sterling done it, but paw was mad; he picked up Mr. +Sterling's gun and tried to kill 'im,—I saw it all. I was hid in the +sycamores. You hadn't ought to hang 'im or do anything to 'im: he +couldn't help it."</p> + +<p>The prosecuting attorney smiled his broad, gilt-edged, comfortable +smile, and laid his pudgy hand reassuringly on Melissa's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, my little girl," he said. "We're not going to hang Mr. +Sterling this time; he was discharged this afternoon; but he'll be +obliged to you, all the same. He's over at the hotel taking a nap. You +just run along home, and the next time don't be afraid to tell what you +know."</p> + +<p>The girl turned away silently, and went down the stairs and out into the +street. She stood still a moment on the hot pavement, looking in the +direction of the hotel in which the man for whom she had made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> her +fruitless journey was sleeping. Then she set her face patiently toward +home. The reflection from the pavement seemed to blind her; she felt +suddenly faint and tired, and it was with a great throb of relief that +she heard a familiar voice at her elbow, and turned with a little +tearless sob to Lysander.</p> + + +<h3>VIII.</h3> + +<p>The Worthingtons' private parlor in the Rideau House was hot and close, +although a fog had drifted in at nightfall and cooled the outside air. +Two of its occupants, however, were totally unmindful of the heat and +the mingled odors of upholstery, gas, and varnish that prevailed within +its highly decorated walls. The third, a compact, elderly, +prosperous-looking gentleman, whose face wore a slight cloud of <i>ennui</i>, +stood by the open window gazing out, not so much from a desire to see +what was going on outside as from a good-natured unwillingness to see +what was taking place within.</p> + +<p>Mr. Frederick Sterling, a shade paler and several shades graver than of +old, was looking at the elderly gentleman's daughter in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> an unmistakable +way; and the daughter herself, a fair creature, with the fairness of +youth and health and plenty, was returning his gaze with one that was +equally unmistakable.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me, Frederick, that the poor thing <i>walked</i> all +that distance in that intolerable heat?"</p> + +<p>The young man nodded dismally.</p> + +<p>"That's what they say, Annette. It makes one feel like a beast."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you need say that, Frederick. I'm sure they ought to +have done something, after the awful danger you were in." The young +woman swept toward him, with one arm outstretched, and then receded, and +let her hand fall on the back of a chair, as her father yawned audibly.</p> + +<p>"Of course there was danger, Annette; but that doesn't remove the fact +that I was a hot-headed idiot."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't talk so. It is not polite to me. I am not going to marry an +idiot."</p> + +<p>"But you've promised."</p> + +<p>The young people laughed into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Frederick," said the young girl, after a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> little silence, during which +they drifted into the rigid plush embrace of a sofa, "I'm going up to +see that girl and thank her."</p> + +<p>The young man leaned forward and caught her wrists.</p> + +<p>"You—angel!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm going to-morrow. Of course you can't go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, good Lord, no," groaned her lover.</p> + +<p>"But papa can. There will be plenty of time; we don't leave until +evening. And in spite of what her father did, I feel kindly toward the +girl. There must be some good in her; she seemed to want to do you +justice. How does she look, Frederick?"</p> + +<p>The soft-voiced inquisitor drew her wrists from the young fellow's +grasp, and flattened his palms between hers by way of an anæsthetic.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, once or twice. A lank, forlorn, little red-headed +thing,—rather pretty. Oh, my God, Annette!"</p> + +<p>The girl raised the tips of his imprisoned fingers to her lips.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you send her something, Frederick, some little keepsake, +something she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> would like, if she would like anything that wasn't too +dreadful?"</p> + +<p>The young fellow's face brightened.</p> + +<p>"Annette, you <i>are</i> an angel."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not; there are no brunette angels. I am a very practical young +woman, and I'm going with you to buy something for that poor girl; men +don't know how to buy things." She dropped her lover's hands, and went +out of the room, returning with her hat and gloves, and, going to her +father's side, she said: "Papa, Frederick and I are going out for +awhile. He wants to get a little present for a poor young girl, the +daughter of that awful wretch who—that—you know. It seems she saw it +all, and came down to say that Frederick was not to blame. Of course it +was unnecessary, for the judge and every one saw at once that he did +perfectly right; but it <i>was</i> kind of her, and it was a <i>very</i> hot day. +Do you mind staying here alone?—or you can go with us, if you like."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you; I don't mind, and I don't like," said the elderly +gentleman dryly.</p> + +<p>"And you'll not be lonely?"</p> + +<p>"No, I think not; I've been getting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> acquainted with myself this trip, +and I find I'm a very interesting though somewhat unappreciated old +party."</p> + +<p>The young girl put down her laughing face, and her father swept a kiss +from it with his gray mustache. Then the two young creatures went out +into the lighted streets, laughing and clinging to each other in the +sweet, selfish happiness that is the preface to so large a part of the +world's misery.</p> + +<p>They came back presently with their purchase, a somewhat obtrusively +ornate piece of jewelry, which Annette pronounced semi-barbarous; +being, she said, a compromise between her own severely classical taste +and that of Sterling, which latter, she assured her father, was entirely +savage.</p> + +<p>She fastened the trinket at her throat, where it acquired a sudden and +hitherto unsuspected elegance in the eyes of her lover, and then +unclasped it, and held it at arm's-length in front of her before she +laid it in its pink cotton receptacle.</p> + +<p>"I do hope she will be pleased, Frederick," she said, with a soft, +contented little sigh.</p> + +<p>And the young man set his teeth, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> smiled at her from the depths of a +self-abasement that made her content a marvel to him.</p> + +<p>Annette went up to the mountains with her father the next day, stopping +the carriage under the pepper-trees in front of the Withrow cabin, and +stepping out a little bewildered by the meanness and poverty and squalor +of it all.</p> + +<p>The children came out and stood in a jagged, uneven row before her, and +the hounds sniffed at her skirts and walked around her curiously. Mrs. +Sproul appeared in the doorway with the baby, shielding its bald head +from the sun with her husband's hat, and Lysander emerged from between +two dark green rows of orange-trees across the way, his hoe on his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I want to see your daughter, the young girl,—the one that walked to +Los Angeles the other day," she said, looking at the woman.</p> + +<p>"M'lissy?" queried Mrs. Sproul anxiously. "Lysander, do you know if +M'lissy's about?"</p> + +<p>Her husband nodded backward.</p> + +<p>"She's over in the orchard, lookin' after the water. I'll"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>The stranger took two or three steps toward him and put out her hand.</p> + +<p>"May I go to her? Will you show me, please? I want to see her alone."</p> + +<p>Lysander bent his tall figure and moved along the rows of orange-trees, +until he caught a glimpse of Melissa's blue drapery.</p> + +<p>"She's right down there," he said, pointing between the smooth trunks +with his hoe. "It's rough walkin',—I've just been a-throwin' up a +furrow fer the irrigatin'; but I guess you c'n make it."</p> + +<p>She went down the shaded aisle between the orange-trees, Mrs. Sproul +looking after her dubiously, as a person guilty of a serious breach of +decorum in asking to see any one alone.</p> + +<p>Melissa leaned on her hoe, and watched her approach with listless +amazement. She took in every detail of her daintily clad +loveliness,—the graceful sway of her drapery as she walked, the cluster +of roses in her belt, and the wide hat with its little forest of curling +plumes.</p> + +<p>"You are Melissa?" The stranger put out her softly gloved hand, and +Melissa took it in limp, rustic acquiescence. "Mr. Ster<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>ling wished me +to come,—and I wanted to come myself,—to thank you for what you did; +it was very kind, and you were very brave to undertake it, and for one +you scarcely knew—it was very, <i>very</i> good of you."</p> + +<p>Melissa colored to the little ripples of vivid hair about her temples.</p> + +<p>"Is he gone away?" she asked, rubbing her hands up and down on the worn +handle of the hoe.</p> + +<p>"No, but he is going this evening. Of course he could not stay. It would +be very painful for him, for all of you. Is there anything he can do for +you? He will be so glad if he can be of use to you in any way"— She +hesitated, watching the pained look grow in her listener's face.</p> + +<p>"Ain't he never comin' back?" asked Melissa wistfully.</p> + +<p>Annette opened her brown eyes wide, and fixed them on the girl's face.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to keep his hankecher," Melissa broke out tremulously. "I hurt +my arm oncet up where they was blastin', and he tied it up fer me with +his hankecher. I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> takin' it to 'im that Sunday. I had it all washed +and done up. I'd like to keep it, though,—if you think he wouldn't +care." Her eyes filled, and her voice broke treacherously. "That's all. +Tell 'im good-by."</p> + +<p>Annette was gazing at her breathlessly. It came over her like a cloud, +the poverty, the hopelessness, the dreariness of it all. She made a +little impetuous rush forward.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes," she said eagerly, through her tears; "and he is so +sorry, and he sent you these,"—she took the roses from her belt, her +lover's roses, and thrust them into Melissa's nerveless grasp,—"and +I—oh, <i>I</i> shall love you always!"</p> + +<p>Then she turned, and hurried through the sun and shadow of the orchard +back to the carriage.</p> + +<p>"I am ready to go now," she said, somewhat stiffly, to her father.</p> + +<p>All the way down the dusty mountain road, over which Melissa had +traveled so patiently, she kept murmuring to herself, "Oh, the poor +thing,—the poor, poor thing!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>Some years afterwards, when Mr. Frederick Sterling's girth and dignity +had noticeably increased, he saw among his wife's ornaments a gaudy +trinket that brought a curious twinge of half-forgotten pain into his +consciousness. He was not able to understand, nor is it likely that he +will ever know, how it came there, or why there came over him at sight +of it a memory of sycamores and running water, and the smell of sage and +blooming buckthorn and chaparral.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALEX_RANDALLS_CONVERSION" id="ALEX_RANDALLS_CONVERSION"></a>ALEX RANDALL'S CONVERSION.</h2> + + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>Mrs. Randall was piecing a quilt. She had various triangular bits of +calico, in assorted colors, strung on threads, and distributed in piles +on her lap. She had put on her best dress in honor of the minister's +visit, which was just ended. It was a purple, seeded silk, adorned with +lapels that hung in wrinkles across her flat chest, and she had spread a +gingham apron carefully over her knees, to protect their iridescent +splendor.</p> + +<p>She was a russet-haired woman, thin, with that blonde thinness which +inclines to transparent redness at the tip of the nose and chin, and the +hand that hovered over the quilt patches, in careful selection of colors +for a "star and chain" pattern, was of a glistening red, and coarsely +knotted at the knuckles, in somewhat striking contrast to her delicate +face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her husband sat at a table in one corner of the spotless kitchen, eating +a belated lunch. He was a tall man, and stooped so that his sunburned +beard almost touched the plate.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Turnbull was here," said Mrs. Randall, with an air of introducing a +subject rather than of giving information.</p> + +<p>The man held a knife-load of smear-case in front of his mouth, and +grunted. It was not an interrogative grunt, but his wife went on.</p> + +<p>"He said he could 'a' put off coming if he'd known you had to go to +mill."</p> + +<p>Mr. Randall swallowed the smear-case. His bushy eyebrows met across his +face, and he scowled so that the hairs stood out horizontally.</p> + +<p>"Did you tell him I could 'a' put off going to mill till I knowed he was +coming?"</p> + +<p>His thick, obscure voice seemed to tangle itself in the hay-colored +mustache that hid his mouth. His tone was tantalizingly free from anger.</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't, Elick," said his wife reproachfully; "not before +the children, anyway."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>The children, a girl of seven and a boy of four, sat on the doorstep in +a sort of dazed inertia, occasioned by the shock of the household's +sudden and somewhat perplexing return to its week-day atmosphere just as +they had adjusted themselves to the low Sabbatic temperature engendered +by the minister's presence.</p> + +<p>The girl had two tightly braided wisps of hair in varying hues of +corn-silk, curving together at the ends like the mandibles of a beetle. +She turned when her father spoke, and looked from him to her mother with +a round, blue-eyed stare from under her bulging forehead. The boy's +stolid head was thrown back a little, so that his fat neck showed two +sunburned wrinkles below his red curls. His gingham apron parted at the +topmost button, disclosing a soft, pathetic little back, and his small +trousers were hitched up under his arms, the two bone buttons which +supported them staring into the room reproachfully, as if conscious of +the ignominy of belonging to masculine garb under the feminine eclipse +of an apron.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Randall bent a troubled gaze upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> her offspring, as if expecting +to see them wilt visibly under their father's irreverence.</p> + +<p>"Mary Frances," she said anxiously, "run away and show little brother +the colts."</p> + +<p>The girl got up and took her brother's hand.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Wattie," she said in a small, superior way, very much as if +she had added: "These grown people have weaknesses which it is better +for us to pretend not to know. They are going to talk about them."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Randall waited until the two little figures idled across the +dooryard before she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you ought to act the way you do, Elick, just because you +don't like Mr. Turnbull; it ain't right."</p> + +<p>The man dropped his chin doggedly, and fed himself without lifting his +elbows from the table.</p> + +<p>"I can't always manage to be at home when folks come a-visiting," he +said in his gruff, tangled voice.</p> + +<p>"You was at church on Sabbath when Mr. Turnbull gave out the pastoral +visita<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>tions: he knew that as well as I did. I couldn't say a word +to-day. I just had to set here and take it."</p> + +<p>"No, you didn't, Matilda: you didn't have to stay any more than I did."</p> + +<p>"Elick!"</p> + +<p>The woman's voice had a sharp reproof in it. He had touched the +Calvinistic quick. She might not reverence the man, but the minister was +sacred.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't help it," persisted her husband obstinately. "You can +take what you please off him. I don't want him to say anything to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he didn't <i>say</i> anything, Elick. What was there to say?"</p> + +<p>"He doesn't gener'ly keep still because he has nothin' to say."</p> + +<p>The man gave a muffled, explosive laugh, and pushed back his chair. Mrs. +Randall's eyelids reddened. She laid down her work and got up.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll take off this dress before I clear up the things," she +said, in a voice of temporary defeat.</p> + +<p>Her husband picked up the empty water-pail as he left the kitchen, and +filled it at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> the well. When he brought it back there was no one +visible.</p> + +<p>"Need any wood, Tildy?" he called toward the bedroom where she was +dressing.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not." The voice was indistinct, but she might have had her +skirt over her head. Alex made a half-conciliatory pause. He preferred +to know that she was not crying.</p> + +<p>"How you been feelin' to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Middlin'."</p> + +<p>She was not crying. The man gave his trousers a hitch of relief, and +went back to his work.</p> + +<p>There had been a scandal in Alex Randall's early married life. The +scattered country community had stood aghast before the certainty of his +guilt, and there had been a little lull in the gossip while they waited +to see what his wife would do.</p> + +<p>Matilda Hazlitt had been counted a spirited girl before her marriage, +and there were few of her neighbors who hesitated to assert that she +would take her baby and go back to her father's house. It had been a +nine-days' wonder when she had elected to believe in her husband. The +injured girl had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> an adopted member of the elder Randall's +household, half servant, half daughter, and it was whispered that her +love for Alex was older than his marriage. Just how much of the +neighborhood talk had reached Matilda's ears no one knew. The girl had +gone away, and the community had accepted Alex Randall for his wife's +sake, but not unqualifiedly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Randall had never been very strong, and of late she had become +something of an invalid, as invalidism goes in the country, where women +are constantly ailing without any visible neglect of duty. It had "broke +her spirit," the women said. Some of the younger of them blamed her, but +in the main it was esteemed a wifely and Christian course that she +should make this pretense of confidence in her husband's innocence for +the sake of her child. No one wondered that it wore upon her health.</p> + +<p>Alex had been grateful, every one acknowledged, and it was this fact of +his dogged consideration for Matilda's comfort that served more than +anything else to reinstate him somewhat in the good opinion of his +neighbors. There had been a good deal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> of covert sympathy for Mrs. +Randall at first, but as years went by it had died out for lack of +opportunity to display itself. True, the minister had made an effort +once to express to her his approval of her course, but it was not likely +that any one else would undertake it, nor that he would repeat the +attempt. She had looked at him curiously, and when she spoke the iciness +of her tone made his own somewhat frigid utterances seem blushingly warm +and familiar by contrast.</p> + +<p>"It would be strange," she said, "if a wife should need encouragement to +stand by her husband when he is in trouble."</p> + +<p>Alex had hated the minister ever since, and had made this an excuse for +growing neglect of religious duties.</p> + +<p>"It is no wonder he dreads to go to preachin', with that awful sin on +his conscience," the women whispered to one another. They always +whispered when they spoke of sin, as if it were sleeping somewhere near, +and were liable to be aroused. Matilda divined their thoughts, and +fretted under Alex's neglect of public service. She wished him to carry +his head high, with the dignity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> of innocence. It appalled him at times +to see how perfectly she apprehended her own part as the wife of a man +wrongfully accused. He was not dull, but he had a stupid masculine +candor of soul that stood aghast before her unswerving hypocrisy. She +had never asked him to deny his guilt; she had simply set herself to +establish his innocence.</p> + +<p>Small wonder that she was tried and hampered by his failure to "act like +other people," as she would have said if she had ever put her worry into +words. It had been one of many disappointments to her that he should go +to mill that day, instead of putting on his best coat and sitting in +sullen discomfort through the pastor's "catechising." She had felt such +pride in his presence at church on Sabbath; and then had come the +announcement, "Thursday afternoon, God willing, I shall visit the family +of Mr. Alexander Randall." How austerely respectable it had sounded! And +the people had glanced toward the pew and seen Alex sitting there, with +Wattie on his knee. And after all he had gone to mill, and left her to +be pitied as the wife of a man who was afraid to face the preacher in +his own house!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>Matilda slipped the rustling splendor of her purple silk over her head, +and went back to the limpness of her week-day calico with a sigh.</p> + +<p>When Alex came in for the milk-pail, she was standing by the stove, +turning the long strips of salt pork that curled and sizzled in the +skillet. Her shoulders seemed to droop a trifle more in her +working-dress, but her face was flushed from the heat of the cooking.</p> + +<p>"There wasn't any call to get a warm supper for me, Tildy. I ain't +hungry to speak of."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess anyway I'd better make some milk gravy for the children; +I didn't have up a fire at noon, see'n' you was away. It ain't much +trouble."</p> + +<p>Her voice was resolutely cheerful, and Alex knew that the discussion was +ended. But after the supper things were cleared away, she said to Mary +Frances, "Can't you go and let your pa see how nice you can say your +psa'm?"</p> + +<p>And the child had gone outside where Alex was sitting, and had stood +with her hands behind her, her sharp little shoulders<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> moving in unison +with her sing-song as she repeated the verses.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'That man hath perfect blessedness</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who walketh not astray</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In counsel of ungodly men,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nor stands in sinners' way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor sitteth in the scorner's chair:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But placeth his delight</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon God's law, and meditates</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On his law day and night.'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The child caught her breath with a long sigh, and hurried on to the end.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'In judgment, therefore, shall not stand</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Such as ungodly are;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor in th' assembly of the just</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall wicked men appear.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For why? The way of godly men</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Unto the Lord is known;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereas the way of wicked men</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall quite be overthrown.'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Then she stood still, waiting for her father's praise.</p> + +<p>He caught her thin little arm and drew her toward him, where she could +not look into his face.</p> + +<p>"You say it very nice, Mary Frances,—very nice indeed."</p> + +<p>And Mary Frances smiled, a prim little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> satisfied smile, and nestled her +slim body against him contentedly.</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>Ten years drifted away, and there was a new minister in the congregation +at Blue Mound. The Reverend Andrew Turnbull had died, and his successor +had come from a Western divinity school, with elocutionary honors thick +upon him. Under his genial warmth the congregation had thawed into a +staid enthusiasm. To take their orthodoxy with this generous coating of +zeal and kindliness and graceful rhetoric, and know that the bitterness +that proclaimed it genuine was still there, unimpaired and effective, +was a luxury that these devout natures were not slow to appreciate. A +few practical sermons delivered with the ardor and enthusiasm of a +really earnest youth stamped the newcomer as a "rare pulpiter," and a +fresh, bubbling geniality, as sincere as it was effusive, opened a new +world to their creed-encompassed souls. Not one of them thought of +resenting his youthful patronage. He was the ambassador of God to them, +and, while they would have been shocked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> beyond measure at his +appearance in the pulpit in a gray coat, they perceived no incongruity +between the brightness of his smile and the gloom of his theology.</p> + +<p>This man came into Alex Randall's house with no odor of sanctity about +him, and with no knowledge of an unhappy past. Matilda had grown older +and stooped more, and her knot of sandy hair was less luxuriant than it +had once been, but there were no peevish, fretful lines on her face. It +began to grow young again now that she saw Alex becoming "such friends +with the minister." Mary Frances was a tall, round-shouldered girl, +teaching the summer school, and Wattie was a sturdy boy in +roundabouts, galloping over the farm, clinging horizontally to +half-broken colts, and suffering from a perpetual peeling of the skin +from his sunburned nose. Matilda was proud of her children. She hoped it +was not an ungodly pride. She knelt very often on the braided rug, and +buried her worn face in the side of her towering feather bed, while she +prayed earnestly that they might honor their <i>father</i> and their mother, +that their days might be long in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> land which the Lord their God had +given them. If she laid a stress upon the word "father," was it to be +wondered at? And the children did honor their father so far as she knew. +If he would only join the church, and share with her the responsibility +of their precious souls! It had been hard for her, when Wattie was +baptized, to stand there alone and feel the pitying looks of the +congregation behind her. Her pulse quickened now at every announcement +of communion, and she listened with renewed hopefulness when Mr. +Anderson leaned forward in the pulpit and gave the solemn invitation to +those who had sat under the kindly influence of the gospel for many +years untouched to shake off their soul-destroying lethargy, and come +forward and enroll themselves on the Lord's side.</p> + +<p>It was the Friday after one of these appeals that Alex came into the +kitchen and said awkwardly,—</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll change my clothes, Matildy, and go over t' the church this +afternoon and meet the Session."</p> + +<p>She felt the burden of years lifted from her shoulders. She said +simply,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I'm real glad of it, Elick. You'll find two shirts in the middle +drawer. I think the under one's the best."</p> + +<p>Matilda went back to her work, and thought how the stain would be wiped +away. "They'll have to give in that he's a good man now," she said to +herself. She fought with the smile that would curve her lips. The +minister would announce it on Sabbath. "By letter from sister +congregations," and then the names; and then, "On profession of faith, +Alexander Randall." She tried to stifle her pride. It must be pride, she +said,—it must be something evil that could make her so very, <i>very</i> +happy.</p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>It was late when Alex came home, and he did the chores after supper. +Mary Frances and Wattie had gone to singing-school and Matilda was alone +in the kitchen when her husband came in. He sat down on the doorstep, +with his back to her and his head down, and stuck the blade of his +jack-knife into the pine step between his feet. There was a long +silence, and when he spoke his voice had a husky embarrassment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's something I suppose I'd ought to have talked to you about all +this time, Matildy, but somehow I couldn't seem to do it. I had a talk +with Mr. Anderson, and he brought it up before the Session, and they +didn't seem to think anything more need to be said about it. It's all +dead and gone now, and of course you know I've been sorry time and time +and again. I don't suppose I ought to say it, but it wasn't altogether +my fault. She never did act right, but then, of course"—</p> + +<p>"<i>Elick!</i>"</p> + +<p>The man heard his name in a quick gasp behind him. He turned and looked +up. Matilda was standing over him, with a white, distorted face.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean—to tell me—that it was <i>true</i>?"</p> + +<p>She got the words out with an effort. Her chin worked convulsively. She +looked an old, old woman.</p> + +<p>"True?"</p> + +<p>The man lifted a dazed, questioning face to hers. He groped his way back +through twenty years. This woman had believed in him all the time! He +saw her take two or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> three steps backward and fall into a chair. They +sat there until the room grew dark. The wind began to blow through the +house, and Alex got up and put out the cat and shut the door. Then he +went to his wife's side.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you'd better go to bed, Matildy?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I suppose there's such a thing as repentance," he went on, with a rasp +in his voice, "and a blotting out of sins, isn't there, Matildy?"</p> + +<p>She put out her hand and pushed him away. He went into the bedroom and +shut the door. She could hear him pulling off his boots on the bootjack. +Then he walked about a little in his stocking feet, and presently the +bed-cord squeaked, and she knew he was in bed. Later, she could hear his +heavy breathing. She sat there in the dark until she heard Wattie +whistling; then she got up and lit a candle and opened the door softly. +The boy came loping up the path.</p> + +<p>"Mary France's got a beau!" he broke out, with a little snort of +ridicule.</p> + +<p>His mother laid her hand on his arm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wattie," she said, "I want you to go out to the barn and harness up old +Doll and the colt. I want you to go with me and Mary Frances over to +grandfather Hazlitt's."</p> + +<p>The boy's mouth and eyes grew round.</p> + +<p>"To-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, right away. I don't want you to ask any questions, Wattie. Mother +never yet told you to do anything wrong. Just go out and get the team, +and be as quiet as you can."</p> + +<p>The boy "hunched" his shoulders, and started with long, soft strides +toward the barn. His mother heard him begin to whistle again and then +stop abruptly. She stood on the step until she heard voices at the gate, +and Mary Frances came up the walk between the marigolds and zinnias and +stood in the square of light from the door. She met her mother with a +pink, bashful face.</p> + +<p>"I want you to go upstairs, Mary Frances, and get your other cloak and +my blanket shawl. Wattie's gone to fetch the horses. You and him and +me's goin' over to grandfather Hazlitt's."</p> + +<p>"To grandfather Hazlitt's this time o' night! Is anybody sick?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, there's nobody sick. I don't want you should ask any questions, +Mary Frances. Just get on your things, and do as mother says; and don't +make any more noise than you can help."</p> + +<p>The young girl went into the house, and came out presently with her +mother's shawl and bonnet. They could hear the wagon driving around to +the gate.</p> + +<p>Matilda went into the kitchen and blew out the candle. Then she closed +the door quietly, and went down the walk with her daughter.</p> + +<p>Matilda Randall was not at communion on the next Sabbath. She was "down +sick at her father's," the women said, and they thought it hard that she +should be absent when Alex joined the church.</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt it's been quite a cross to her, the way he's held out," +one of them remarked; "and it seems a pity she couldn't have been there +to partake with him the first time."</p> + +<p>But the weary woman, lying so still in her old room in her father's +house, had a heavier cross.</p> + +<p>Her mother tiptoed into the room, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> morning after her arrival, and +stood beside her until she opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Elick is outside, Matildy. Shall I tell him to come in?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head, and closed her eyes again wearily.</p> + +<p>The old woman went out, and confronted her gray-haired husband +helplessly.</p> + +<p>"It beats me, Josiah, what he could 'a' said or done that she's took to +heart so, after what she's put up with all these years."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Mr. Anderson preached the funeral sermon very touchingly, when it was +all over. The tears came into his young eyes, and there were treacherous +breaks in his rhetoric as he talked.</p> + +<p>"This sister in Israel, whose lovely and self-sacrificing life has just +ended so peacefully, lived to see the dearest wish of her heart +gratified,—the conversion of the husband of her youth to the faith of +her fathers. We are told that some have died of grief, but if this frail +heart ceased to beat from any excess of emotion, it must have been, my +friends, from the fullness of joy,—the joy 'that cometh in the +morning.'"</p> + +<p>But Alex Randall knew better.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IDY" id="IDY"></a>IDY.</h2> + + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>Seņora Gonzales was leaning upon the corral gate in the shade of the +pomegranates, looking out over the lake. The lake itself was not more +placid than the seņora's face under her black rebozo. Perhaps a long +life of leaning and gazing had given her those calm, slow-moving eyes, +full of the wisdom of unfathomable ignorance. The landscape on the +opposite shore was repeated in the water below, as if to save her the +trouble of raising her heavily fringed lids. To the southward a line of +wild geese gleamed snow-white, like the crest of a wave. Half a dozen +dogs were asleep in the smoothly swept dooryard behind her, and a young +Mexican, whose face was pitted by smallpox, like the marks of raindrops +in dry sand, leaned against the gnarled trunk of a trellised grapevine, +clasping his knees, and sending slow wreaths of smoke from his +cigarette. The barley in the field behind the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> house was beginning to +head, and every breath of wind stirred it in glistening waves. Beyond +the field shone a yellow mist of wild mustard. The California spring, +more languorous, even with its hint of moisture, than the cloudless +summer, sent a thousand odors adrift upon the air. Even the smell of +garlic hanging about the seņora could not drown the scent of the +orange-blooms, and as for Ricardo's cigarette, surely no reasonable +mortal could object to that. Ricardo himself would have questioned the +sanity of any one who might have preferred the faint, musky fragrance of +the alfilaria to the soothing odor of tobacco. He closed his eyes in +placid unconsciousness of such vagaries of taste, and rocked himself +rhythmically, as if he were a part of the earth, and felt its motion.</p> + +<p>A wagon was creaking along the road behind the house, but it did not +disturb him. There were always wagons now; Ricardo had grown used to +them, and so had the seņora, who did not even turn her head. These +restless Americanos, who bought pieces of land that were not large +enough to pasture a goat, and called them ranchos—caramba!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> what fools +they were, always a-hurrying about!</p> + +<p>The wagon had stopped. Well, it would be time enough to move when some +one called. A dust-colored hound that slept at the corner of the house, +stretched flat, as if moulded in relief from the soil upon which he lay, +raised his head and pricked up one ear; then arose, as if reluctantly +compelled to do the honors, and went slowly around the house.</p> + +<p>"Of course they've got a dawg; forty of 'em, like enough!" It was a +girl's voice, pitched in a high, didactic key. "I guess I c'n make 'em +understand, pappy; I'll try, anyway."</p> + +<p>She came around the house, and confronted Ricardo, who took his +cigarette from his mouth, and looked at her gravely without moving. The +seņora turned her head slowly, and glanced over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>The girl smiled, displaying two rows of sound teeth shut tightly +together.</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" she said, raising her voice still higher, and advancing +toward the seņora with outstretched hand. "I suppose you're Mrs. +Gonsallies."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>The seņora disentangled one arm slowly from her rebozo, and gave the +newcomer a large, brown, cushiony hand.</p> + +<p>"This is my fawther," continued the girl, waving her left hand toward +her companion; "sabby?"</p> + +<p>The man stepped forward, and confronted the seņora. She looked at him +gravely, and shook her head. He was a small, heavily bearded man, with +soft, bashful brown eyes, which fell shyly under the seņora's placid +gaze.</p> + +<p>"She don't understand you, Idy," he said helplessly.</p> + +<p>The girl caught his hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Never mind, +pappy," she said, lowering her voice; "I'll fetch her. Now, listen," she +went on, fixing her wide gray eyes on the seņora, and speaking in a +loud, measured voice. "I—am—Idy Starkweather. This—is—my—fawther. +There! Now! Sabby?"</p> + +<p>Evidently she considered failure to understand English a species of +physical disability which might be overcome by strong concentration of +the will.</p> + +<p>The seņora turned a bland, unmoved face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> upon her son. The eyes of the +newcomers followed her gaze. Ricardo held his cigarette between his +fingers, and blew a cloud of smoke above his head.</p> + +<p>"She don' spik no Englis'," he said, looking at them mildly.</p> + +<p>The girl flushed to the roots of her hay-colored frizz of hair. "You're +a nice one!" she said. "Why didn't you speak up?"</p> + +<p>Ricardo gave her another gentle, undisturbed glance. "Ah on'stan' a +leetle Englis'; Ah c'n talk a leetle," he said calmly.</p> + +<p>The girl hesitated an instant, letting her desire for information +struggle with her resentment. "Well, then," she said, lowering her voice +half sullenly, "my fawther here wants to ask you something. We live a +mile or so down the road. We've come out from Ioway this summer—me and +mother, that is; pappy here come in the spring, didn't you, pappy? An' +he bought the Slater place, an' there's ten acres of vineyard, an' +Barden,—he's the real 'state agent over t' Elsmore, you know 'im,—he +told my fawther they wuz all raisin-grapes, white muscat,—didn't he, +pappy?—an' my fawther here paid cash down fer the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> place, an' the +vineyard's comin' into bearin' next fall, an' Parker Lowe,—he has a +gov'ment claim on section eighteen, back of our ranch,—-maybe you know +'im,—he says they're every one mission grapes—fer makin' wine. He +helped set 'em out, an' he says they got the cuttin's from your folks; +but I thought he wuz sayin' it just to plague me, so my fawther here +thought he'd come an' ask. If they are wine-grapes, that felluh Barden +lied—didn't he, pappy?"</p> + +<p>The Mexican gazed at her pensively through the smoke of his cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Yass, 'm," he said slowly and softly—"yass, 'm; Ah gass he tell good +deal lies. Ah gass he don' tell var' much trut'."</p> + +<p>"Then they <i>are</i> mission grapes?"</p> + +<p>"Yass, 'm; dey all meession grapes; dey mek var' good wahn."</p> + +<p>The girl's face flamed an angry red under her crimpled thatch of hair. +She put out her hand with a swift, protecting gesture, and caught her +father's sleeve.</p> + +<p>The little man's cheeks were pale gray above his shaggy beard. He took +off his hat, and nervously wiped the damp hair from his forehead. His +daughter did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> look at him. Ricardo could see the frayed plume on her +jaunty turban quiver.</p> + +<p>"My fawther here's a temperance man, a prohibitionist: he don't believe +in wine; he hates it; he wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. That +felluh Barden knowed it—didn't he, pappy? He lied!" She spoke fiercely, +catching her breath between her sentences.</p> + +<p>The Mexican threw away the end of his cigarette, and gazed after it with +pensive regret.</p> + +<p>"Some folks don' lak wahn," he said amiably. "Ah lak it var' well +mahse'f. Ah gass he al's tell var' big lies, Mist' Barrd'n."</p> + +<p>The girl turned away, still grasping her father's arm. Then she came +back, with a sudden and somewhat bewildering accession of civility. +"Addyoce," she said, bowing loftily toward the seņora. The plume in her +hat had turned in the afternoon breeze, and curved forward, giving her a +slightly martial aspect.</p> + +<p>"Addyoce, Mr. Gonsallies. We're much obliged,—ain't we, pappy? +Addyoce."</p> + +<p>Ricardo touched his sombrero. "Good-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>evenin', mees," he said in his +soft, leisurely voice; "good-evenin', seņor."</p> + +<p>When the last ruffle of Miss Starkweather's green "polonay" had +disappeared around the corner of the adobe house, the seņora drifted +slowly across the dooryard in her voluminous pink drapery, and sat down +beside her son. There was a thin stratum of curiosity away down in her +Latin soul. What had Ricardo done to make the seņorita so very angry? +She was angry, was she not?</p> + +<p>Oh, yes, she was very angry, but Ricardo had done nothing. Seņor Barden +had sold her father ten acres of wine-grapes, and the old man did not +like wine; he liked raisins. Santa Maria! Did he mean to eat ten acres +of raisins? He need not drink his wine; he could sell it. But the +seņorita was very angry; she would probably kill Seņor Barden. She had +said she would kill him with a very long pole—ten feet. Ricardo would +not care much if she did. Seņor Barden had called him a greaser. But as +for a man who did not like wine—caramba!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>Parker Lowe's government claim was a fractional section, triangular in +shape, with its base on the grant line of Rancho la Laguna, and its apex +high up on the mountain-side. Parker's cabin was perched upon the +highest point, at the mouth of the caņon, in a patch of unconquerable +boulders. Other government settlers were wont to remark the remoteness +of his residence from the tillable part of his claim, but Parker +remained loyal to his own fireside.</p> + +<p>"It's a sightly place," he asserted, "and nigh to the water, and it +ain't no furder goin' down to work than it would be comin' up fer a +drink, besides bein' down-grade. I lay out to quit workin' some o' these +days, but I don't never lay out to quit drinkin'."</p> + +<p>This latter determination on Parker's part had come to be pretty well +understood, and the former would have obtained ready credence except for +the fact that one cannot very well quit what he has never begun. Without +risking the injustice of the statement that Parker was lazy, it is +perhaps safe to say that he belonged by nature to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> the leisure class, +and doubtless felt the accident of his birth even more keenly than the +man of unquenchable industry who finds himself born to wealth and +idleness. "Holdin' down a claim" had proved an occupation as well +adapted to his tastes as anything that had ever fallen to his lot, and +his bachelor establishment among the boulders was managed with an +economy of labor, and a resultant of physical comfort, hitherto unknown +in the annals of housekeeping. The house itself was of unsurfaced +redwood, battened with lath to keep out the winter rain. The furniture +consisted of a wide shelf upon which he slept, two narrower ones which +held the tin cans containing his pantry stores, a bench, a table which +"let down" against the wall by means of leathern hinges when not in use, +a rusty stove, and a much-mended wooden chair. From numerous nails in +the wall smoky ends of bacon were suspended by their original hempen +strings, and the size of the grease-spot below testified to the length +of the "side" which Parker had carried in a barley sack from Barney +Wilson's store at Elsmore, five miles away on the other side<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> of the +lake. Parker surveyed these mural decorations with deep, inward +satisfaction not untinged with patriotism.</p> + +<p>"There wa'n't many folks right here when I filed on to this claim," he +had been known to remark, "an' I may have trouble provin' up. But if the +Register of the General Land-Office wants to come an' take a look, he +c'n figger up from them ends o' bacon just about how long I've lived +here, an' satisfy himself that I've acted fair with the gover'ment, +which I've aimed to do, besides makin' all these improvements."</p> + +<p>The improvements referred to were hardly such as an artist would have so +designated, but Parker surveyed them with taste and conscience void of +offense. The redwood shanty; a dozen orange-trees, rapidly diminishing +in size and number by reason of neglect and gophers; a clump of slender, +smoky eucalypti; a patch of perennial tomato-vines; and a few acres of +what Barney Wilson called "veteran barley,"—it having been sown once, +and having "volunteered" ever since,—constituted those additions to the +value of the land, if not to the landscape, upon which Parker based his +homestead rights.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>Since the Laguna Ranch had been subdivided, and settlers had increased, +and especially since Eben Starkweather had bought the Slater place, and +Ida Starkweather had invaded the foot-hills with her vigorous, +self-reliant, breezy personality, Parker had been contemplating further +improvements in his domicile—improvements which, in moments of +flattered hope, assumed the dignity of a lean-to, a rocking-chair, and a +box-spring mattress. The dreams which had led him to a consideration of +this domestic expansion he had confided to no one but Mose Doolittle, +who had a small stock-ranch high up on the mountain, and who found +Parker's cabin a convenient resting-place on his journeys up and down +the trail.</p> + +<p>"I tell ye," he had said to Mose, "that girl is no slouch. Her pa is an +infant in arms, a babe an' a suckling, beside her. Her ma is sickly; one +o' your chronics. Idy runs the ranch. I set here of evenin's, an' watch +'em through this yer field-glass. She slams around that place like a +house a-fire. It's inspirin' to see her. Give me a woman that makes +things hum, ever-ee time!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Somebody said she had a hell of a temper," ventured Mose, willing to be +the recipient of further confidences.</p> + +<p>"Somebody lied. She's got spunk. When she catches anybody in a mean +trick she don't quote poetry to 'im; she gives 'im the straight goods. +Some folks call that temper. I call it sand. There'll be a picnic when +she gets hold o' Barden!"</p> + +<p>Parker raised the field-glass again, and leveled it on the Starkweather +homestead.</p> + +<p>"There's the infant now, grubbin' greasewood. He's a crank o' the first +water; you'd ought to hear 'im talk. He went through the war, an' he's +short one lung, an' he's got the asmy so bad he breathes like a squeaky +windmill, an' he won't apply fer a pension because he says he was awful +sickly when he enlisted, an' he thinks goin' South an' campin' out saved +his life. That's what I call lettin' yer 'magination run away with ye."</p> + +<p>"What does Idy think about it?" queried Mose innocently.</p> + +<p>"Idy stands up fer her pa; that's what I like about 'er. I like a woman +that'll back a man up, right er wrong; it's proper an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> female. It's +what made me take a shine to 'er."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't want her to back Barden up." Mose made the suggestion +preoccupiedly, with his eyes discreetly wandering over the landscape, as +if he had suddenly missed some accustomed feature of it.</p> + +<p>Parker lowered the glass and glanced at him suspiciously. "No, sir-ee! +If there's any backin' done there, Barden'll do it. She'll make 'im +crawfish out o' sight when she ketches 'im. That's another thing I like +about 'er; she'll stand up fer a feller; that is, fer any feller that +b'longs to 'er—that is, I mean, fer a feller she b'longs to."</p> + +<p>Mose got up and turned around, and brushed the burr-clover from his +overalls.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess I must be movin'," he said, with a highly artificial +yawn. "Come here, you Muggins!" he called to his burro, which had +strayed into the alfilaria. "Give me an invite to the weddin', Parker. +I'll send you a fresh cow if you do."</p> + +<p>Parker held the glass between his knees, and looked down at it with +gratified embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"There's a good deal to be gone through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> with yet, Mose," he said +dubiously. "I set up here with this yer field-glass, workin' myself up +to it, an' then I go down there, an' she comes at me so brash I get all +rattled, an' come home 'thout 'complishin' anythin'. But I'll make it +yet," he added, with renewed cheerfulness. "She sewed a button on fer me +t' other day. Now, between ourselves, Mose, don't ye think that's kind +o' hopeful?"</p> + +<p>Hopeful! Mose would say it was final. No girl had ever sewed a button on +for him. When one did, he would propose to her on the spot. He wondered +what Parker was thinking of not to seize such an opportunity.</p> + +<p>"That's what I had ought to 'a' done," acknowledged Parker, shaking his +head ruefully. "Yes, sir; that's what I'd ought to 'a' done. I had ought +to 'a' seized that opportunity an' pressed my suit."</p> + +<p>"That's the idea, Park," said his companion gravely, as he bestrode +Muggins, and jerked the small dejected creature out into the trail. +"You'd ought to 'a' pressed your suit; there's nothin' a woman likes +better 'n pressin' your suit. Whoop-la, Muggins!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>Some time after Mose had disappeared up the caņon, Parker heard a loud +echoing laugh. He turned his head to listen, and then raised the glass +and leveled it on Starkweather's ranch.</p> + +<p>"I thought at first that was Idy," he said to himself, "but it wa'n't. +She 's got a cheerful disposition, but I don't believe she'd laugh that +a-way when she's a-learnin' a bull calf to drink; that ain't what I call +a laughin' job. Jeemineezer! don't she hold that cantankerous little +buzzard's head down pretty. Whoa there, Calamity! don't you back into +the chicken corral. That's right, Idy, jam his head into the bucket, an' +set down on it—you're a daisy!"</p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>On the strength of Mose's friendly encouragement, Parker betook himself +next day to where Eben Starkweather was trimming greasewood roots, and +moved about sociably from one hillock to another while his neighbor +worked. Nothing but the ardor of unspoken love would have reconciled +Parker to the exertion involved, for Eben worked briskly, in spite of +his singularity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> of lung and the disadvantages of "asmy," and the +greasewood was not very thick on the ground he had been clearing. The +grotesque gnarled roots were collected in little heaps, like piles of +discarded heathen images, and Eben hacked about among them, a very +mild-mannered but determined iconoclast.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to keep at it pretty studdy," he explained apologetically to +his visitor, "fer they say we're like enough not to have any more rain, +and I'm calc'latin' to grub out the vineyard before the ground hardens +up."</p> + +<p>"Goin' to yank them vines all out, are ye?"</p> + +<p>"That's the calc'lation."</p> + +<p>Parker clasped one knee, and whetted his knife on the toe of his boot +reflectively.</p> + +<p>"'Pears to me ye might sell off that vineyard, an' buy a strip t' other +side of ye, an' set out muscats."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't sell that vineyard," said Eben. He had laid down his axe, +and was wiping his forehead nervously with an old silk handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I reckon ye could," said Parker<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> easily; "ye got the whole place +pretty reasonable."</p> + +<p>The little man's bearded mouth twitched. When he spoke, his voice was +high and strained.</p> + +<p>"I'd jest as soon keep a saloon; I'd jest as soon sell wine to a man +after it's made as before it's made." He wiped the moist inner band of +his hat, and then dropped his handkerchief into it, and put it on his +head. Parker could see his grimy hand tremble. "I didn't know what I was +buyin'," he went on, picking up his axe, "but I'd know what I was +sellin'."</p> + +<p>Parker glanced at him as he fell to work. He was a crooked little man, +and one shoulder was higher than the other; there was nothing aggressive +in his manner. He had turned away as if he did not care to argue, did +not care even for a response. Perhaps no man on earth had less ability +to comprehend a timid soul lashed by conscience than Parker Lowe. "The +hell!" he ejaculated under his breath. Then he sat still a moment, and +drew a map of his claim, and the adjoining subdivision, on the ground +between his feet. The affectionate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> way in which the Starkweather ranch +line joined his own seemed suggestive.</p> + +<p>"It 'pears to me," he broke out judicially, "that ye could argue this +thing out better 'n ye do. Now, if I was in your place, 'pears to me I'd +look at it this a-way. There's a heap o' churches in Ameriky, an', if I +remember right, they mostly use wine for communion. I hain't purtook for +some time myself, but I guess I've got it right. Now all the wine that +could be made out o' them grapes o' yourn wouldn't s'ply half the +churches in this country, not to mention Europe an' Asie, an' Afriky; +an' as long as that's the case, I don't see as you're called on to +<i>know</i> that your wine's used fer anything but religious purposes. Of +course you can conjure up all sorts o' turrible things about gettin' +drunk an' cavin' round, but that's what I call lettin' yer 'magination +run away with ye."</p> + +<p>"Your 'magination don't have to run a great ways to see men gettin' +drunk," said Eben, with some relaxation of voice and manner. The absence +of conviction which Parker's logic displayed seemed a relief to him. His +fanaticism was personal, not polemical.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What'd ye raise back in Ioway?" asked Parker, with seeming irrelevance.</p> + +<p>"Corn."</p> + +<p>"How'd ye reconcile that?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't reconcile it; I couldn't. I sold out, an' come away."</p> + +<p>Parker trimmed a ragged piece of leather from the sole of his boot, and +whistled softly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I try not to be an extremist," he said, with moderation. "That +Barden's the brazenest liar on this coast. He'd ought to be kicked by a +mule. I'd like to see Idy tackle 'im."</p> + +<p>This suggestive combination of Barden's deserts with his daughter's +energy seemed to give Eben no offense.</p> + +<p>"Idy's so mad with him she gets excited," he said mildly. "I can't make +'er see it's all fer the best. Sence I've found out about the vines, +I've been glad I bought 'em."</p> + +<p>Parker stopped his amateur cobbling, and looked up.</p> + +<p>"Ye don't mean it!" he said, with rising curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm glad o' the chance to get red o' them. It's worth the money."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>He turned to pick up another twisted root, displaying the patches on his +knees, and the hollowness of his sunken chest.</p> + +<p>"The hell!" commented Parker, softly to himself, with a long, indrawn +whistle.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll go down to the house," he said aloud, getting up by easy +stages. "I see the cow's pulled up her stake, an' 's r'airn round tryin' +to get to the calf. Mebby Idy'll need some help."</p> + +<p>"She was calc'latin' to move 'er at noon," said Eben, shading his eyes, +and looking toward the house. "It must be 'long toward 'leven now. If +you're goin' down, you'd better stop an' have a bite o' dinner with us."</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't kick if the women folks don't," answered Parker amiably; +"bachin' 's pretty slow. I've eat so much bacon an' beans I dunno +whether I'm a hog or a Boston schoolma'am."</p> + +<p>Arrived at the corral, where the cow stood with uplifted head snuffing +the air, and gazing excitedly at her wild-eyed offspring, his composure +suddenly vanished. Miss Starkweather was holding the stake in one hand, +and winding the rope about her arm with the other.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hello!" she said, with a start, "where on earth 'd you spring from?"</p> + +<p>"I see the cow was loose," ventured Parker, "an' I thought you mightn't +be able to ketch 'er."</p> + +<p>"Well, it wouldn't be fer lack o' practice," responded the girl, with a +wide, good-natured smile. "She's yanked her stake out three times this +mornin', an' come cavin' around here as if she thought somebody wanted +to run away with 'er triflin' little calf. I guess she likes to have me +follerin' 'er 'round."</p> + +<p>"She's got good taste," said Parker gallantly.</p> + +<p>The girl laughed, and struck at him with the iron stake.</p> + +<p>"Oh, taffy!" she said, looking at him coquettishly from under her frizz. +"Ain't you ashamed?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Parker, waxing brave. "Gi' me the stake; mebbe I c'n fasten +'er so she'll stay."</p> + +<p>"You're welcome to try,"—the girl slipped her arm out of the coil of +rope,—"but I don't b'lieve you can, unless you drill a hole in a +boulder, an' wedge the stake in."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>Parker led away the cow, mooing with maternal solicitude, and Idy +returned to the house. When she reached the kitchen door, she turned and +called between the ringing blows of the axe,—</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Lowe, mother says won't ye come to dinner?"</p> + +<p>"You bet!" answered Parker warmly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Starkweather sat on the doorstep picking a chicken, which seemed to +develop a prodigious accession of leg and neck in the process. She had +the set, impervious face of a nervous invalid, and her whole attitude, +the downward curve of her mouth, and the elevation of her brows, were +eloquent of injustice. The clammy, half-plucked fowl in her hand seemed +to share her expression of irreparable injury. She allowed her daughter +to climb over her without moving, and when Parker appeared she wiped one +long yellow hand on her apron, and gave it to him in a nerveless grasp.</p> + +<p>"I hope you'll excuse me fer not gettin' up," she drawled; "I guess you +c'n get a-past me. Idy, come an' set a rocker fer Mr. Lowe."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've got my hands in the dough," called her daughter hilariously, from +the pantry; "Mr. Lowe'll have to set on his thumb till I get these +biscuits in the pan."</p> + +<p>Parker's head swam. The domestic familiarity of it all filled him with +ecstasy. He got himself a chair, and inquired solicitously concerning +Mrs. Starkweather's health.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm just about the same," complained his hostess; "not down sick, +but gruntin'. Folks that's up an' down like I am don't get nigh as much +sympathy as they 'd ought. I tell Starkweather, well folks like him an' +Idy ain't fittin' comp'ny fer an inv'lid."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Starkweather's lookin' better 'n he did," said Parker, listening +rapturously to the thumps of the rolling-pin in the pantry. "I think +this climate agrees with 'im."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's well enough," responded Mrs. Starkweather dejectedly, "if he +didn't make 'imself so much extry work. Grubbin' out that vineyard, now! +I can't fer the life o' me see"—</p> + +<p>"Maw!" called Idy warningly, opening the battened door with a jerk—"you +maw! look out, now!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Starkweather drooped her mouth, and raised her brows, with a sigh +of extreme and most self-sacrificial virtue.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course Idy fires up if anybody says anythin' ag'in' 'er fawther. +I guess that's always the way; them that does least fer their fam'lies +always gets the most credit. I think if some folks was thinkin' more +about their dooties an' less about their queer notions, some other folks +wouldn't be laid up with miseries in their backs."</p> + +<p>Having thus modestly obscured herself and her sufferings behind a +plurality of backs, Mrs. Starkweather arose and dragged herself into the +house.</p> + +<p>"Gi' me the chicken," said Idy, slamming her biscuits into the oven, and +taking the hunchbacked and apparently shivering fowl from her mother. "I +ain't a-goin' to have anybody talkin' about pappy, an' you know it. If I +was a man, I'd get even with that lyin' Barden, or I'd know the reason +why."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I was sayin'," returned Mrs. Starkweather, with +malicious meekness. "If your fawther was the man he'd ought to be, he +wouldn't be rode over that way by nobody."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>The girl's face flamed until it seemed that her blonde thatch of hair +would take fire.</p> + +<p>"Pappy ain't to blame," she said angrily; "he can't help thinkin' the +way he does. There ain't no call to be mad with pappy; it's all that +miser'ble, lyin' Barden. It'll be a cold day fer him when I ketch 'im."</p> + +<p>Parker gazed at her admiringly. She had laid the chicken on a corner of +the table, and was vigorously cutting it into pieces, cracking its +bones, and slashing into it with an energy that seemed to her lover +deliciously bloodthirsty and homicidal.</p> + +<p>"Barden's got back from the East," he announced. "I see 'im over t' +Elsmore Saturday, tryin' to peek over the top of his high collar. You'd +ought to seen 'im; he's sweet pretty."</p> + +<p>The girl refused to smile, but the blaze in her cheeks subsided a +little.</p> + +<p>"It's just as well fer him I didn't," she said, whetting her knife on +the edge of a stone jar. "He mightn't be so pretty after I'd got done +lookin' at 'im."</p> + +<p>Parker laughed resoundingly, and the girl's face relaxed a little under +his appreciative mirth. When her father stepped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> upon the platform at +the kitchen door, she left the frying chicken to hiss and sputter in the +skillet, and went to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Now, pappy," she said, taking hold of him with vigorous tenderness, +"I'll bet you've been workin' too hard. Here, let me fill that basin, +and when you've washed, you come in an' let Mr. Lowe give ye a pointer +on settin' 'round watchin' other folks work." She raised her voice for +Parker's benefit. "He come out here fer his health, an' he's gettin' so +fat an' sassy he has to live by 'imself."</p> + +<p>Parker's appreciation of this brilliant sally seemed to threaten the +underpinning of the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Eben smiled up into his daughter's face as he lathered his hairy hands.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't make out much at livin' by myself, Idy," he said gently.</p> + +<p>"You ain't goin' to get a chance," rejoined his daughter, rushing back +to her sputtering skillet, and spearing the pieces of chicken +energetically; "you ain't goin' to get red o' me, no matter how sassy +you are; I'm here to stay."</p> + +<p>"Hold on now," warned Parker; "mind what you're sayin'."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know what I'm sayin'," retorted the girl, tossing her head. "I'd just +like to see the man that could coax me away from pappy."</p> + +<p>"You'd like to see 'im, would ye?" roared Parker, slapping his knee. +"Come, now, that's pretty good. Mebbe if you'd look, ye might ketch a +glimpse of 'im settin' 'round som'er's."</p> + +<p>The girl lifted the skillet from the stove, and let the flame flare up +to hide her blushes.</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't be settin' 'round," she asserted indignantly, jabbing the +fire with her fork. "He'd be up an' comin', you c'n bet on that."</p> + +<p>"What's Idy gettin' off now?" drawled Mrs. Starkweather from the other +room.</p> + +<p>"Gettin' off her base," answered Parker jocosely. Nevertheless, the wit +of his inamorata rankled, and after dinner he went with Eben to the barn +to "hitch up."</p> + +<p>"Idy wants to go over to Elsmore this afternoon," said Eben, "an' I +promised to go 'long; but I'd ought to stay with the grubbin'. If you +was calc'latin' to lay off anyhow, mebbe you wouldn't mind the ride. The +broncos hain't been used much sence I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> commenced on the greasewood, and +I don't quite like to have 'er go alone."</p> + +<p>"She hadn't ought to go alone," broke in Parker eagerly. "That pinto o' +yourn's goin' to kick some o' ye into the middle o' next week, one o' +these days. I was just thinkin' I'd foot it over to the store fer some +bacon. Tell Idy to wait till I run up to the house an' get my gun."</p> + +<p>Idy waited, rather impatiently, and rejected with contempt her escort's +proposal to take the lines.</p> + +<p>"When I'm scared o' this team, I'll let ye know," she informed him, +giving the pinto a cut with the whip that sent his heels into the air. +"If ye don't like my drivin', ye c'n invite yerself to ride with +somebody else. I'm a-doin' this."</p> + +<p>The afternoon was steeped in the warm fragrance of a California spring. +Every crease and wrinkle in the velvet of the encircling hills was +reflected in the blue stillness of the laguna. Patches of poppies blazed +like bonfires on the mesa, and higher up the faint smoke of the +blossoming buckthorn tangled its drifts in the chaparral. Bees droned in +the wild buckwheat, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> powdered themselves with the yellow of the +mustard, and now and then the clear, staccato voice of the meadow-lark +broke into the drowsy quiet—a swift little dagger of sound.</p> + +<p>"The barley's headin' out fast." Parker raised his voice above the +rattle of the wagon. "I wished now I'd 'a' put in that piece of +Harrington's."</p> + +<p>"Harvest's a poor time fer wishin'; it's more prof'table 'long about +seedin'-time," said Idy, with a smile that threatened the meshes of her +stylishly drawn veil.</p> + +<p>Parker set one foot on the dashboard, and swung the other out of the +wagon nervously.</p> + +<p>"I do a good deal o' wishin' now that ain't very prof'table—time o' +year don't seem to make much difference," he said plaintively.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess if I wanted anything I wouldn't wish fer it a <i>great</i> +while—not if I could set to work an' get it."</p> + +<p>The vim of this remark seemed to communicate itself to the pinto through +the tightened rein, and sent him forward with accelerated speed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>Parker glanced at his companion from under the conical shapelessness of +his old felt hat, but she kept her eyes on the team, and gave him her +jaunty profile behind its tantalizing barrier of meshes and dots.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll bet if you wanted what I want you'd be 'most afraid to +mention it," he said, reaching down into the tall barley, and jerking up +a handful of the bearded heads.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I bet I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"S'posin' I wanted to get married?"</p> + +<p>There was a silence so sudden that it had the effect of an explosion. +Then Miss Starkweather giggled nervously.</p> + +<p>"That's just exactly what I do want," persisted Parker desperately, +turning his toe inward, and kicking the wagon-box.</p> + +<p>There was another disheartening silence. Then the girl's color flamed up +under her rusty lace veil. She turned upon him witheringly.</p> + +<p>"Well, what are ye goin' to do about it? Set 'round and wait till some +girl asks ye?"</p> + +<p>Her voice had a fine sarcastic sting in it.</p> + +<p>Parker whipped his brown overalls with a green barley-head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No; I ain't such a bloomin' idiot as I look."</p> + +<p>"I don't know 'bout that," answered the young woman coolly.</p> + +<p>Parker faced about.</p> + +<p>"Now, look here, Idy," he said; "you'd ought to quit foolin'. You know +what I mean well enough; you're just purtendin'. You know I want to +marry ye."</p> + +<p>"Me!" The girl lifted her brows until they disappeared under the edge of +her much-becurled bang. "Want to marry <i>me!</i> Great Scott!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see why it's great Scott or great anything else," said Parker +doggedly.</p> + +<p>Idy held the reins in her left hand, and smoothed her alpaca lap with +the whip handle, in maiden meditation.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know as 't is so very great after all," she said, rubbing +the folds of her dress, and glancing at him in giggling confusion.</p> + +<p>Parker made an experimental motion with his right arm toward the back of +the seat. The girl repelled him dexterously with her elbow.</p> + +<p>"You drop that, Parker Lowe!" she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> said, with dignity. "I ain't so far +gone as all that. There's that Gonsallies felluh lookin' at us. You just +straighten up, or I'll hit ye a cut with this whip!"</p> + +<p>Her lover gave a short, embarrassed laugh.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, Idy; Ricardo don't understand United States."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't care whether he understands United States or not. I guess +idiots acts about the same in all languages. I'll bet a dollar he +understands what you're up to, anyway; so there."</p> + +<p>She drove on, in rigid perpendicularity, past the adobe ranch-house of +the Gonzales family, and around the curve of the lake-shore, into the +sunshine of the wild mustard that fringed the road. Through it they +could see the pale sheen of the ripening barley-fields, broken here and +there by the darker green of alfalfa.</p> + +<p>As the mustard grew taller and denser, Idy's spine relaxed sufficiently +to permit a covert, conciliatory glance toward her companion's arm, +which hung from the back of the seat in the disappointed attitude it had +assumed at her repulse.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I s'pose you think I'm awful touchy," she broke out at last, "an' mebbe +I am; but before I promise to marry anybody, there's two things he's got +to promise <i>me</i>—he's got to sign the pledge, an' he's got to get even +with that felluh Barden."</p> + +<p>Parker's face, which had brightened perceptibly at the first +requirement, clouded dismally at the second.</p> + +<p>Idy dropped her chin on the silk handkerchief flaring softly at her +throat, and looked at him deliciously sidewise from under her +overshadowing frizz.</p> + +<p>"I'll promise <i>any</i>thing, Idy," he protested, fervently abject.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later they drove into Elsmore with the radiance of their +betrothal still about them, and Idy drove the team up, with a skillful +avoidance of the curb, before the "Live and Let Live Meat-Market."</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to get some round steak," she said, giving the lines to +Parker, who sprang to the sidewalk, "an' then I'm goin' over to +Saunders's to look at jerseys. You c'n go where you please, but if I see +you loafin' 'round a saloon there'll be a picnic. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> you tie the team, +you want to put a halter on the pinto—he's like me, he hates to be +tied; he pulls back. If you hain't got much to do, I think you'd better +make a hitchin'-post of yerself, and not tie 'im."</p> + +<p>She stood up in the wagon, preening her finery, and looking down at her +lover before she gave him her hand.</p> + +<p>"I won't be a hitchin'-post if you hate to be tied," he said, holding +out his hands invitingly.</p> + +<p>As he spoke, the rider of a glittering bicycle glided noiselessly around +the corner, apparently steering straight for Eben's team of ranch-bred +broncos. The pinto snorted wildly, and dashed into the street, jerking +the reins from Parker's hand, and rolling him over in the dust. There +was the customary soothing yell with which civilization always greets a +runaway, and a man sprang from a doorway on the opposite side of the +street, and flung himself in front of the frightened horses. The pinto +reared, but the stranger's hand was on the bridle; a firm and skillful +hand it seemed, for the horses came down on quivering haunches, and then +stood still, striving to look around<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> their blinders in search of the +modern centaur that had terrified them.</p> + +<p>Idy had fallen back into the seat without a word or cry, and sat there +bolt upright, her face so white that it gleamed through the meshes of +her veil.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, with a long panting breath, "that was a pretty close +call fer kingdom come, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>The stranger, who was stroking the pinto's nose, and talking to him +coaxingly, laughed.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Park!" he said as the latter came up. "Cold day, wasn't it? Got +your jacket pretty well dusted for once, I guess."</p> + +<p>The crowd that had collected laughed, and two or three bareheaded men +began to examine the harness. While this was in progress, the +livery-stable keeper took a look at the pinto's teeth, and they all +confided liberally in one another as to what they had thought when they +first heard the racket. The young man who had stopped the team left them +in the care of a newcomer, and walked around beside Idy.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come into the office and rest a little?" he asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, thanks, no," said the girl, with a shuddering, nervous laugh; "I +hain't done nothin' to make <i>me</i> tired. I think you're the one that +ought to take a rest. If it hadn't been fer you I'd been a goner, sure."</p> + +<p>Her rescuer laughed again and turned away, moving his hand involuntarily +toward his head, and discovering that it was bare. The discovery seemed +to amuse him even more highly, and he made two or three strides to where +his hat lay in the middle of the street, and went across to his office, +dusting the hat with long, elaborate flirts of his gayly bordered silk +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>The knot of men began to disperse, and the boys, who lingered longest, +finally straggled away, stifling their regret that no one was mangled +beyond recognition. Parker climbed into the wagon, and drove over to +Saunders's store.</p> + +<p>"I don't know as I'd better buy a jersey to-day," giggled Idy, as she +stepped from the wagon to the elevated wooden sidewalk. "I'm afraid it +won't fit. I feel as if I'd been scared out o' ten years' growth."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>As they drove home in the chill, yellow evening, Idy turned to her +lover, and asked abruptly,—</p> + +<p>"Who was that felluh?"</p> + +<p>"What felluh?"</p> + +<p>"The young felluh with the sandy <i>mus</i>tache, the one that stopped the +team."</p> + +<p>Parker's manner had been evasive from the first, but at this the +evasiveness became a highly concentrated unconcern. He looked across the +lake, and essayed a yawn with feeble success.</p> + +<p>"There was a good many standin' around when I got there. What sort o' +lookin' felluh was he?"</p> + +<p>"I just told ye; with a sandy mustache, short, and middlin' heavy set."</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-h!" said Parker, reaching for his gun. Idy stopped the horses.</p> + +<p>A bronze ibis arose from the tules at the water's edge, and flapped +slowly westward, its pointed wings and hanging feet dripping with the +gold of the sunset. Parker laid down his gun.</p> + +<p>"What did you want to shoot at that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> thing fer?" asked Idy. "They ain't +fit to eat."</p> + +<p>"The wings is pretty. I thought you might like another feather in your +cap."</p> + +<p>The girl gave him a look of radiant contempt, and he spoke again +hurriedly, anxious to prevent a relapse in the conversation.</p> + +<p>"You was sayin' somethin' to-day about signin' the pledge, Idy: I've +been layin' off to sign the pledge this good while. The next time +there's a meetin' of the W. X. Y. Z. women, you fetch on one o' their +pledges, an' I'll put my fist to it."</p> + +<p>"W. C. T. U.," corrected Idy, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"All right; W. C. T. me, if that suits you any better. It's a long time +since I learned my letters, an' I get 'em mixed. But I've made up my +mind on the teetotal business, and don't ye forget it."</p> + +<p>"There ain't any danger of <i>me</i> forgettin' it," said the young woman +significantly. "What ye goin' to do about that other business?" she +added, turning her wide eyes upon him abruptly—"about gettin' even with +that cheatin' Barden?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>They had driven into the purple shadow of the mountains, and Parker +seemed to have left his enthusiasm behind him with the sunlight.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said gloomily. "Do ye want me to kill 'im?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Kill</i> him!" sneered the girl; "I want ye <i>to get even with 'im</i>! +'Tain't no great trick to kill a man; any fool can do that. I want ye to +get ahead of 'im!"</p> + +<p>She glowed upon him in angry magnificence.</p> + +<p>"Idy," said her lover, sidling toward her tenderly, "when you flare up +that a-way, you mustn't expect me to think about Barden. You look just +pretty 'nough to eat!"</p> + + +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p>A week later Eben began grubbing out the vineyard. The weather turned +suddenly warm, and the harvest was coming on rapidly. Parker Lowe had +gone to Temecula with Mose Doolittle, who was about to purchase a +machine, presumably feminine, which they both referred to familiarly as +"she," and styled more formally "a second-hand steam-thrasher." It was +Monday,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> and Idy was putting the week's washing through the wringer with +a loud vocal accompaniment of gospel hymn.</p> + +<p>Eben had worked steadily since sunrise. The vines were young, and the +ground was not heavy, but the day was warm, and he wielded the mattock +rapidly, stooping now and then to jerk out a refractory root with his +hands. An hour before noon his daughter saw him coming through the +apricot orchard, walking wearily, with his soiled handkerchief pressed +to his lips. The girl's voice lost its song abruptly, and then broke out +again in a low, faltering wail. She bounded across the warm plowed +ground to his side.</p> + +<p>"Pappy! O pappy!" she cried, breathing wildly, "what is it? Tell me, +can't you, pappy?"</p> + +<p>The little man smiled at her with his patient eyes, and shook his head. +She put her hand under his elbow, and walked beside him, her arm across +his shoulders, her tortured young face close to his. When they reached +the kitchen door he sank down on the edge of the platform, resting his +head on his hand. The girl took off his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> weather-beaten hat, and +smoothed the wet hair from his forehead.</p> + +<p>"O pappy! Poor, little, sweet old pappy!" she moaned, rubbing her cheek +caressingly on his bowed head.</p> + +<p>Eben took the handkerchief from his lips, and she started back, crying +out piteously as she saw it stained with blood. He looked up at her, a +gentle, tremulous smile twitching his beard.</p> + +<p>"Don't—tell—your—maw," he said, putting out his hand feebly.</p> + +<p>The words seemed to recall her. She went hurriedly into the house and +close to the lounge where her mother was lying.</p> + +<p>"Maw," she said quickly, "you must get up! Pappy's got a hem'ridge. I +want you to help me to get 'im to bed, an' then I'm goin' fer a doctor."</p> + +<p>The woman got up, and followed her daughter eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Why, Eben!" she said, when they reached the kitchen door. Her voice was +almost womanly; and a real anxiety seemed to have penetrated her +hysterical egoism.</p> + +<p>They got him to bed tenderly, and propped him up among the white +pillows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> His knotted hands lay on the coverlet, gray and bloodless +under the stains of hard work. Idy bent over him, tucking him in with +little pats and crooning moans of sympathy. When she had finished, she +dropped her wet cheek against his beard.</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' fer the doctor, pappy," she whispered; "I won't be gone but a +little while,"—then rushed down the path to the stable, and flung the +harness on the pinto.</p> + +<p>The buggy was standing in the shed, and she caught the shafts and +dragged it out with superabundant energy, as if her anxiety found relief +in the exertion. A few minutes later she drove out between the rows of +pallid young eucalyptus-trees that led to the road, leaning eagerly +forward, her young face white and set beneath the row of knobby +protuberances that represented the morning stage of her much cherished +bang. It was thus that she drove into Elsmore, the rattling of the old +buggy and the spots of lather on the pinto's sides exciting a ripple of +curiosity, which furnished its own solution in the fact that it was +"that there Starkweather girl," who was generally conceded to be "a +great one."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>She stopped her panting horse before the doctor's office, and sprang +out.</p> + +<p>"Are you the doctor?" she asked breathlessly, standing on the threshold, +with one hand on each side of the casing.</p> + +<p>A man in his shirt-sleeves, who was writing at the desk, turned and +looked at her. It was the same man who had prevented the runaway. He +began to smile, but the girl's stricken face stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Patterson has gone to the tin-mine," he said, getting up and coming +forward; "he will not be home till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Idy grasped the casing so tightly that her knuckles shone white and +polished.</p> + +<p>"My fawther's got a hem'ridge," she said, swallowing after the words. "I +don't know what on earth to do."</p> + +<p>"A hemorrhage!" said the young man with kindly sympathy. "Well, now, +don't be too much alarmed, Miss—"</p> + +<p>"Starkweather," quavered Idy.</p> + +<p>"Starkweather? Oh, it's Mr. Starkweather. Why, he's a friend of mine. +And so you're his daughter. Well, you mustn't be too much alarmed. I've +had a great many hemorrhages myself, and I'm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> good for twenty years +yet." He had taken his coat from a nail at the back of the room, and was +putting it on hurriedly. "Prop him up in bed, and don't let him talk, +and give him a spoonful of salt-and-water now and then. My horse is +standing outside, and I'll go right down to Maravilla and fetch a +doctor. I'll come up on the other side of the lake, and get there almost +as soon as you do—let me help you into your buggy. And drive right on +home, and don't worry."</p> + +<p>He had put on his hat, and they stood on the sidewalk together.</p> + +<p>Idy made a little impulsive stoop toward him, as if she would have taken +him in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she gasped, her eyes swimming, and her chin working painfully; "I +just think you're the very best man I ever saw in all my life!"</p> + +<p>A moment later she saw him driving a tall black horse toward the lake at +a speed that brought her the first sigh of relief she had known, and +made her put up her hand suddenly to her forehead.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious me!" she exclaimed un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>der her breath—"if I didn't forget +to take down my crimps!"</p> + +<p>Two or three times as she drove home through the warm odors of the +harvest noon her anxiety was invaded by the recollection of this man, to +whose promptness and decision her own vigorous nature responded with a +strong sense of liking; and this liking did not suffer any abatement +when he came into her father's sick-room with the doctor, and the +invalid looked at the stranger, and then at her, with a faint, troubled +smile.</p> + +<p>"Don't try to speak, Mr. Starkweather," said the visitor cheerfully; +"I've made your daughter's acquaintance already. We want you to give +your entire attention to getting well, and let us do the talking."</p> + +<p>He went out of the room, and strolled about the place while the doctor +made his call, and when it was over he went around to the kitchen, where +Idy was kindling a fire, and said:—</p> + +<p>"Doctor Patterson thinks your father will be all right in a day or so, +Miss Starkweather. Be careful to keep him quiet. I'm going to drive +around to the station, so the doctor can catch the evening train, and +save my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> driving him down to Maravilla; and I'll go on over to Elsmore +and get this prescription filled, and bring the medicine back to you. Is +there anything else you'd like from town—a piece of meat to make +beef-tea, or anything?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I wouldn't mind much if you <i>would</i> bring me a piece of beef," +said Idy, pausing with a stick of redwood kindling across her knee. Then +she dropped it, and came forward. "We're <i>ever</i> so much obliged to +ye—pappy 'n' all of us. Seem 's if you always turn up. I think you've +been just awful good and kind—an' us strangers, too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're not strangers," laughed the young man, lifting his hat; +"I've known your father ever since he came."</p> + +<p>He went around the house, and got into the cart with the doctor. +"Starkweather's a crank," he said, as they drove off, "but he's the kind +of crank that makes you wish you were one yourself. When I see a man +like that going off with consumption, and a lot of loafers getting so +fat they crowd each other off the store boxes, I wonder what Providence +is thinking of."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He works too hard," growled the doctor, with the savagery of science. +"What can Providence do with a man who grubs greasewood when he ought to +be in bed!"</p> + +<p>It was moonlight when the stranger returned, and handed the packages to +Idy at the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>"Pappy's asleep," she whispered, in answer to his inquiries; "he seems +to be restin' easy."</p> + +<p>"Is there no one about the place but yourself and mother, Miss +Starkweather?"</p> + +<p>Idy shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, if you don't mind, I think I will put my horse in the barn, +and sleep in the shed here, on the hay. If you should need any one in +the night, you can call me. I haven't an idea but that your father will +be all right, but it's a little more comfortable to have some one within +call."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Idy, dropping her hands at her sides, and looking at him in +admiring bewilderment, "if you ain't just— Have you had anythin' to +eat?" she broke off, with sudden hospitality.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, thank you; I had dinner at Els<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>more," laughed the young man, +backing out into the shadow. "Good-night."</p> + +<p>Half a minute later she followed him down the walk, carrying a heavy +blanket over her arm. He had led his horse to the water-trough, and the +moonlight shone full upon him as he stood with one arm thrown over the +glossy creature's neck.</p> + +<p>"I brought you this here blanket, Mr.—"</p> + +<p>"Barden," supplied the young man, carelessly.</p> + +<p>Idy sank back against the corral fence as if she were stunned.</p> + +<p>"Barden!" she repeated helplessly. "Is your name Barden?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>She stood breathless a moment, and then burst out:—</p> + +<p>"An' you're him! <i>you</i>—an' doin' this way, after the way you've +done—an' him sick—an' me talkin' to ye—an'—an'—everything!"</p> + +<p>The two torrents of hate and gratitude had met, and were whirling her +about wildly.</p> + +<p>The young man pushed his hat back on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> his head, and stared at her in +sturdy, unflinching amazement.</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady, what on earth do you mean?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"I mean that I didn't know that you was <i>him</i>—the man that sold my +father this place, an' lied to him about the vineyard—told him they was +raisin-grapes, an' they wasn't—an' you knowed he was a temp'rance man, +a prohibitionist. An' him tryin' to grub 'em out, an' gettin' sick—an' +bein' so patient, an' never hurtin' nobody—" she ended in a wild, +angry sob that seemed to swallow up her voice.</p> + +<p>"Miss Starkweather," said the young fellow steadily, "I certainly did +sell this place to your father, and if I told him anything about the +vineyard I most certainly told him they were raisin-grapes; and upon my +soul I thought they <i>were</i>. Aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"No," sobbed Idy, "they ain't; they're wine-grapes! He was grubbin' 'em +out to-day. That's what hurt 'im—I'm afraid he'll die!"</p> + +<p>"You mustn't be afraid of that. Dr. Patterson says he will get better. +But we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> must see that he doesn't do any more grubbing. When Slater gave +me this for sale," he went on, as if he were reflecting aloud, "he said +there were ten acres of vineyard. I can't swear that he told me what the +vines were, or that I asked him. But it never occurred to me that any +man—even an Englishman—would plant ten acres of wine-grapes when there +wasn't a winery within fifty miles of him."</p> + + +<h3>VI.</h3> + +<p>Parker Lowe borrowed one of Mose Doolittle's mules Monday evening, and +rode from Temecula to Jake Levison's saloon at Maravilla. It was +understood when he left the thresher's camp that he would probably "make +a night of it," and Mose gave him a word of friendly warning and advice.</p> + +<p>"You want to remember, Park, that the old man is down on the flowing +bowl; an' from what I've heard of the family I think it'll pay you to +keep yourself solid with the old man."</p> + +<p>"I'm a-goin' up to the drug-store to get some liniment for Dave +Montgomery's lame shoulder," returned Parker, with a knowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> wink at +his companion, as he flung himself into the saddle; "but I hain't signed +no pledge yet—not by a jugful," he called back, as the mule jolted +lazily down the road.</p> + +<p>It was a warm night, and half a dozen loafers were seated on empty +beer-kegs in front of Levison's door when Parker rode up. Levison got +up, and began to disengage himself from the blacksmith's story as he saw +the newcomer dismount; but the blacksmith raised his voice insistently.</p> + +<p>"'There don't no dude tell me how to pare a hoof,' says I; 'I'll do it +my way, or I don't do it;' an' I done it, an' him kickin' like a steer +all the time"—</p> + +<p>"Who?" asked one of the other men.</p> + +<p>"Barden."</p> + +<p>"What was he doin' down here?"</p> + +<p>"He came down for Doc Patterson. That teetotal wreck on the west side o' +the lake took a hem'ridge—I furget his name, somethin'-weather: pretty +dry weather, judgin' from what I hear."</p> + +<p>"Starkweather?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Starkweather; I guess he's pretty low."</p> + +<p>Parker started back to the post where his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> mule was tied. Then he turned +and looked into the saloon. Levison had gone in and was wiping off the +counter expectantly.</p> + +<p>"It won't take but a minute," he apologized to himself.</p> + +<p>It took a good many minutes, however, and by the time the minutes +lengthened into hours Parker had ceased to apologize to himself, and +insisted upon taking the by-standers into his confidence.</p> + +<p>"I'm—I'm goin' to sign the pledge," he said, with an unsteady wink, +"an' then I'm goin' to get merried,—yes, sir, boys; rattlin' nice girl, +too,—'way up girl, temperance girl. But there's many a cup 'twixt the +slip and the lip—ain't there, boys? Yes, sir, 'twixt the cup and the +slip—yes, sir—yes, sir—ee." Then his reflections driveled off into +stupor, and he sat on an empty keg with the conical crown of his old +felt hat pointed forward, and his hands hanging limply between his +knees.</p> + +<p>When Levison was ready to leave he stirred Parker up with his foot, and +helped him to mount his mule. The patient creature turned its head +homeward.</p> + +<p>It was after daybreak when Parker rode<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> into the Starkweather ranch, and +presented himself at the kitchen door. The night air had sobered him, +but it had done nothing more. Idy was standing by the stove with her +back toward him. She turned when she heard his step.</p> + +<p>"Why, Park!" she said, with a start; then she put up her hand. "Don't +make a noise. Pappy's sick."</p> + +<p>He came toward her hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"So I heard down at Maravilla last night, Idy."</p> + +<p>Her face darkened.</p> + +<p>"And you been all night gettin' here?"</p> + +<p>He bent over her coaxingly.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, Idy"—</p> + +<p>The girl pushed him away with both hands, and darted back out of reach.</p> + +<p>"Parker Lowe," she said, with a gasp, "you've been drinkin'!"</p> + +<p>Parker hung his head sullenly.</p> + +<p>"No, I hain't," he muttered; "not to speak of. Whose horse is that out +'n the corral?"</p> + +<p>The girl looked at him witheringly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know as it's any of your pertic'lar business, but I don't mind +tellin' you that horse b'longs to <i>a gentleman</i>!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A gentleman," sneered Parker.</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>a gentleman</i>; if you don't know what that is you'd better look in +the dictionary. You won't find out by lookin' in the lookin'-glass, I +can tell you that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, Idy, you hadn't ought to be so mad; I hadn't signed the +pledge yet."</p> + +<p>He took a step toward her. The girl put out her hands warningly, and +then clasped her arms about herself with a shudder.</p> + +<p>"Don't you come near me, Parker Lowe," she gasped. "What do I care about +the pledge! Didn't you <i>tell</i> me you'd stop drinkin'? Won't a man that +tells lies with his tongue tell 'em with his fingers? Do you suppose I'd +marry a man that 'u'd come to me smellin' of whiskey, an' <i>him</i> lyin' +sick in there? Can't you see that he's worth ten thousand such folks as +you an' me? I don't want a man that can't see that! I'm done with you, +Parker Lowe,"—her voice broke into a dry sob; "I want you to go away +and stay away! It ain't the drinkin'—it's <i>him</i>—can't you understand?"</p> + +<p>And Parker, as he climbed toward his lonesome cabin, understood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_COMPLICITY_OF_ENOCH_EMBODY" id="THE_COMPLICITY_OF_ENOCH_EMBODY"></a>THE COMPLICITY OF ENOCH EMBODY.</h2> + + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>The afternoon train wound through the waving barley-fields of the +Temecula Valley and shrieked its approach to the town of Muscatel. It +was a mixed train, and half a dozen passengers alighted from the rear +coach to stretch their legs while the freight was being unloaded.</p> + +<p>Enoch Embody stood on the platform with the mail-bag in his hand, and +listened to their time-worn pleasantries concerning the population of +the city and the probable cause of the failure of the electric cars to +connect with the train.</p> + +<p>Enoch was an orthodox Friend. There was a hint of orthodoxy all over his +thin, shaven countenance, except at the corners of his mouth, where it +melted into the laxest liberality.</p> + +<p>A swarthy young man, with a deep scar across his cheek, swung himself +from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> platform of the smoking-car, and came toward him.</p> + +<p>"Is there a stopping-place in this burg?" he called out gayly.</p> + +<p>"Thee'll find a hotel up the street on thy right," said Enoch.</p> + +<p>The stranger looked at him curiously.</p> + +<p>"By gum, you're a Quaker," he broke out, slapping Enoch's thin, high +shoulder. "I haven't heard a 'thee' or a 'thou' since I was a kid. It's +good for earache. Wait till I get my grip."</p> + +<p>He darted into the little group of men and boys, who were listening with +the grim appreciation of the rural American to the badinage of the +conductor and the station agent, and emerged with a satchel and a roll +of blankets.</p> + +<p>"Now, uncle, I'm ready. Shall we take the elevated up to the city?" he +asked, smiling with gay goodfellowship up into Enoch's mild, austere +face.</p> + +<p>The old man threw the mail-bag across his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I'll take thee as far as the store. Thee can see most of the city from +there."</p> + +<p>The young fellow laughed noisily, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> hooked his arm through his +companion's gaunt elbow. Enoch glanced down at the grimy, broken-nailed, +disreputable hand on his arm, and a faint flush showed itself under the +silvery stubble on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"By gum, this town's a daisy," said the stranger, sniffing the +honey-laden breeze appreciatively and glancing out over the sea of wild +flowers that waved and shimmered under the California sun; "nice quiet +little place—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Thee hears all the noise there is," answered Enoch gravely.</p> + +<p>The young fellow gave a yell of delight and bent over as if the shaft of +Enoch's wit had struck him in some vital part. Then he disengaged his +arm and writhed in an agony of mirth.</p> + +<p>"Holy Moses!" he gasped, "that's good. Hit 'im again, uncle."</p> + +<p>Enoch stood still and looked at him, a mild, contemptuous sympathy +twinkling in his blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Is thee looking for a quiet place?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The newcomer reduced his hilarity to an intermittent chuckle, and +resumed his affectionate grasp on Enoch's arm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's about the size of it, uncle. I've knocked around a good deal, +and I'm suffering from religious prostration. I'm looking for a nice, +quiet, healthy place to take a rest—to recooperate my morals, so to +speak. Good climate, good water, good society. Everything they don't +have in—some places. What's the city tax on first-class residence +property close in?"</p> + +<p>"I think thee'll find it within thy means," said Enoch dryly. "Has thee +a family?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you might say—yes," rejoined the stranger, "that is, I'm +married. My wife's not very well. I want to build a seven by nine +residence on a fashionable street and send for her. I'm going to draw up +the plans and specifications and bid on the contract myself, and I think +by rustling the foreman I can get everything but the telephone and the +hot water in before she gets here. Relic of the ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay?" he +asked, pointing to a vacant store building across the grass-grown +street; "or bought up by the government, maybe, to keep out competition +in the post-office business—hello, is this where you hang out?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>Enoch turned into the combined store and post-office, and the stranger +stood on the platform, bestowing his tobacco-stained smile generously +upon the bystanders.</p> + +<p>"Thee'll find the hotel a little further up the street," said Enoch; +"there may be no one about; I think I saw Isaac and Esther Penthorn +driving toward Maravilla this afternoon. But they'll be back before +dark. Thee can make thyself at home."</p> + +<p>"You're right I can," assented the newcomer with emphasis; "I see you've +caught on to my disposition. Isaac and Esther will find me as domestic +as a lame cat. Be it ever so homely there's no place like hum. By-by, +uncle; see you later."</p> + +<p>He went up the street, walking as jauntily as his burden would permit, +and Enoch looked after with a lean, whimsical smile.</p> + +<p>"Thee seems to have a good deal of cheek," he reflected, as he emptied +the mail-bag, "but thee's certainly cheerful."</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>Within a week every resident of Muscatel had heard the sound of Jerry +Sullivan's voice. It arose above the ring of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> hammer as he worked at +the pine skeleton of his shanty, and the sage-laden breeze from the +mountains seemed a strange enough vehicle for the questionable +sentiments of his song. New and startling variations of street songs, +and other unfamiliar melodies came to Enoch's ears as he distributed the +mail, or held the quart measure under the molasses barrel, and +occasionally the singer himself dropped in to make a purchase and chat a +few moments with the postmaster concerning the progress of his house.</p> + +<p>"The architect has rather slopped over on the plans," he said, when the +frame was up, "so I'm putting up a Queen Anne wood-shed for the present, +while he knocks a few bay windows out of the conservatory. 'A penny +saved 's a penny earned,' you know. That's the way I came to be a +millionaire—stopped drinking in my infancy and learned to chew, saved a +rattleful of nickels before I could walk—got any eighteen-carat nails, +uncle? I want to do a little finishing-work in the bath-room."</p> + +<p>Enoch met his new friend's trifling, always with the same gentle +gravity; but some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>thing, perhaps that lurking liberality about the +corners of his mouth, seemed to inspire the young fellow with implicit +confidence in the old man's sympathy.</p> + +<p>After the frame of Jerry's domicile was inclosed, a prodigious sawing +and hammering went on inside the redwood walls, and the bursts of music +were spasmodic, indicating a closer attention on the part of the workman +to nicety of detail in his work. He called to Enoch as he was passing +one day, and drew him inside the door mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"Take a divan, uncle," he said airily, pushing a three-legged stool +toward his guest. "I've got something to show you,—something that's +been handed up to me from posterity. How does that strike you for a +starter in the domestic business?"</p> + +<p>He drew forward an empty soap-box, fashioned into an old-time cradle, +and fitted with rude rockers at the ends.</p> + +<p>"Happy thought—eh?" he rattled on, gleefully pointing to the stenciled +end, where everything but "Pride of the Family" had been carefully +erased. "How's this for a proud prospective paternal?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>He balanced himself on one foot and rocked the little craft, with all +its cargo of pathetic emptiness, gently to and fro.</p> + +<p>Enoch's face quivered as if he had been stabbed.</p> + +<p>The young fellow stepped back and surveyed his handiwork with jaunty +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"I made that thing just as a bird builds its nest—by paternal instinct. +It's a little previous, and I'd just as soon you wouldn't mention it; +but I had to show it to somebody. Got any children?" he turned upon +Enoch suddenly.</p> + +<p>"No. Not any—living."</p> + +<p>The old man's voice wavered, and caught itself on the last word.</p> + +<p>Jerry thrust the cradle aside hastily.</p> + +<p>"Neither have I, uncle, neither have I," he said; "not chick nor child. +If you ain't too tired, let me show you over the house. I'm sorry the +elevator isn't running, so you could go up to the cupolo. This room's a +sort of e pluribus unum, many in one; kind of a boodwar and kitchen +combined. The other rooms ain't inclosed yet, but they're safe enough +outside. That's the advantage of this climate, you don't have to put +every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>thing under cover. Ground-plan suit you pretty well?"</p> + +<p>"I think thee's very cosy," Enoch said, smiling gravely; "when does thee +look for thy wife?"</p> + +<p>"Just as soon as she's able," said Jerry, drawing an empty nail-keg +confidentially toward Enoch and seating himself; "you see"—</p> + +<p>He stopped short. The cradle behind the old man was still rocking +gently.</p> + +<p>"I guess it won't be very long," he added indifferently.</p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>The south-bound train was late, and the few loafers who found their +daily excitement in its arrival had drifted away as it grew dark, +leaving no one but Enoch on the platform. When the train whistled the +station agent opened the office door and his kerosene lamp sent a shaft +of light out into the darkness.</p> + +<p>There was the usual noisy banter among the trainmen, and none of them +seemed to notice the woman who alighted from the platform of the +passenger coach and came toward Enoch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>She stood in the light of the doorway, so that the old man could see her +tawdry dress and the travel-dimmed red and white of her painted face.</p> + +<p>"Is there a man named Jerry Sullivan livin' in this town?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Enoch was conscious of a vague disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, half reluctantly, "he lives here. I suppose thee's his +wife."</p> + +<p>The woman looked at him curiously. Then she laughed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose I am," she said; "can you show me where he lives?"</p> + +<p>"I can't show thee very well in the dark, but it isn't far. If thee'll +wait a minute, I'll take thy satchel and go with thee."</p> + +<p>He brought the mail-bag and picked up the stranger's valise.</p> + +<p>"Thy husband's been looking for thee," he said, as they went along the +path that led across a vacant lot to the street.</p> + +<p>The woman did not reply at once. She seemed intent upon gathering her +showy skirts out of the dust. When she spoke, her voice trembled on the +verge of a laugh.</p> + +<p>"That so? I've been lookin' for him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> too. Thought I'd give him a +pleasant surprise."</p> + +<p>"He's got his house about finished."</p> + +<p>The woman stopped in the path.</p> + +<p>"His house," she sneered; "he must be rattled if he thinks I'll live in +a place like this—forty miles from nowhere."</p> + +<p>They walked on in silence after that to the door of Jerry's shanty. +There was a light inside, and the smell of cooking mingled with the +resinous odor of the new lumber. Jerry was executing a difficult passage +in a very light opera to the somewhat trying accompaniment of frying +ham. The solo stopped abruptly when Enoch knocked.</p> + +<p>"Come in," shouted the reckless voice of the singer, "let the good +angels come in, come in!"</p> + +<p>Enoch opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, Jerry," he said gravely; "here is thy wife."</p> + +<p>The young fellow crossed the floor at a bound with a smile that stayed +on his face after every vestige of joy had died out of it.</p> + +<p>The woman gave him a coarse, triumphant stare.</p> + +<p>"I heard you was lookin' for me," she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> said, with a chuckle, "but you +seemed kind o' s'prised after all."</p> + +<p>Jerry stood perfectly still, with his hands at his sides. Behind him, +where the light fell full upon it, Enoch could see the cradle. The old +man placed the satchel on the step.</p> + +<p>"I must go back and attend to the mail," he said, disappearing in the +darkness.</p> + +<p>A few hours later, just as Enoch had fitted the key in the store door +and turned down the kerosene lamp, preparatory to blowing it out, Jerry +appeared in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"I've got to go away on the early train," he said, in a dull, husky +voice; "she's going with me. I don't know how long I'll be gone, and I +thought I'd like to leave the key of the house with you, if it won't be +too much trouble."</p> + +<p>"It won't be any trouble, Jerry. I'll take care of it for thee," said +Enoch.</p> + +<p>The hand that held out the key seemed to Enoch to be stretched toward +him across a chasm. He felt a yearning disgust for the man on the other +side.</p> + +<p>Jerry walked across the platform hesitatingly, and then came back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Would you mind locking up and coming outside, Mr. Embody?" he asked +humbly; "I'd like to have a little talk with you."</p> + +<p>Enoch blew out the lamp and closed the door and locked it. He felt a +physical shrinking from the moral squalor into which he was being +dragged.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Jerry?" he asked kindly.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking," said the young man hurriedly, and in the same +level, monotonous voice, "that families sometimes come to these new +places without having any house ready, and of course it's a good deal of +expense for them to board, and I just wanted to say to you that if any +person—well, say a widow with a b—family—I wouldn't care to help a +man that could rustle for himself—but a woman, you know, if she's not +very strong, and has a—a—family—why, I'd just as soon you'd let her +have the house, and you needn't say anything about the rent: I'll fix +that when I come back. I haven't been to church and put anything in the +collection since I've been here,"—his voice gave a suggestion of the +old ring, and then fell back drearily,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>—"so I thought I'd hand you what +I'd saved up, and you can use it for charitable purposes—groceries and +little things that people might need, coming in without anything to +start."</p> + +<p>He handed Enoch a roll of money, and the old man put it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"I'll remember what thee says, Jerry. If any worthy family comes along, +I'll see that they do not want."</p> + +<p>"If I can, I'll send you a little now and then," the young fellow went +on more cheerfully, "but I'd just as soon you wouldn't mention it. I'll +be back sometime, there's no doubt about that, but I can't say just +when. You can tell the folks that my—my wife," he choked on the word, +"didn't feel satisfied here. She thinks it won't agree with her. And I +guess it won't, she's very bad off"—he turned away lingeringly, and +then came back. "About the—the—crib," he faltered, "if they happen to +have a baby, I wouldn't mind them using it. Babies are pretty generally +respectable, no matter what their folks are. I <i>was</i> calculating," he +went on wistfully, "to get another box and hunt up some wheels, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +thought maybe they could rig it up with a pink parasol and use it to +cart the baby 'round; you know if a woman isn't very strong, it might +save her a good deal—but then it's too late now;" he turned away +hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"I guess I can manage that for thee, Jerry," said Enoch; "I'm rather +handy with tools. Thee needn't worry."</p> + +<p>The two men stood still a moment in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Mr. Embody," said Jerry.</p> + +<p>He did not put out his hand. Enoch hesitated a little.</p> + +<p>"Farewell," he said, and his voice was not quite natural.</p> + +<p>The next morning, when Enoch opened the outside letter-box to postmark +the mail that had been dropped into it after the store was closed the +night before, he found but one letter. It was addressed to Mrs. Josie +Hart Sullivan, Pikeboro, Mo</p> + + +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>"Are you the postmaster?"</p> + +<p>Enoch dropped the tin scoop into the sugar-bin, and turned around. The +voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> was timid, almost appealing, and Enoch glanced from the pale, +girlish face that confronted him to the bundle in her arms.</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the bundle. It was of that peculiar bulky +shapelessness which betokens a very small infant.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm the postmaster," answered Enoch kindly; "is there anything I +can do for thee?"</p> + +<p>The young creature looked down, and a faint color came into her +transparent face.</p> + +<p>"I've just come in on the train," she faltered. "I thought you might be +able to tell me where to go. I haven't very much money. I was sick on +the way, and spent more than I expected. I—I"—she hesitated, and +glanced at Enoch with a little expectant gasp.</p> + +<p>"Is thee alone?" inquired the old man.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That is—only Baby. My husband has just—just"—her voice +fluttered and died away helplessly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thee's a widow," said Enoch gently.</p> + +<p>"Yes." The poor young thing looked up with a smile of wistful gratitude. +"I'm not very strong. I heard this was a healthy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> place. They thought it +would be good for us—Baby and me. I'm Mrs. Josie Hart. Baby's name is +Gerald."</p> + +<p>"Would thee be afraid to stay in a house alone?" inquired Enoch +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>The stranger gave him a look of gentle surprise.</p> + +<p>"Why, no, of course not—not with Baby; he's so much company."</p> + +<p>There was a note of profound compassion for his masculine ignorance in +her young voice.</p> + +<p>The old man's mouth quivered into a smile. He went to the back of the +room, and took a key from a nail.</p> + +<p>"I think I can find thee a real cosy little place," he said; "shan't I +carry the baby for thee?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated, and looked up into his solemn, kindly face. Then she held +the precious bundle toward him.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll have to let you. I didn't really know it till I got here, +but I begin to feel, oh! so awful tired," she said, with a long, sighing +breath, as Enoch folded his gaunt arms about the baby.</p> + +<p>They went up the street together, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> Enoch unlocked Jerry's house and +showed the stranger in. She walked straight across the room to the +cradle. When she turned around her eyes were swimming.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think it's just <i>lovely</i> here," she said; "I feel better already. +This is such a nice little house, and so many wild flowers everywhere, +and they smell so sweet—I <i>know</i> Baby will like it."</p> + +<p>She relieved Enoch of his burden and laid it on the bed.</p> + +<p>The old man lingered a little.</p> + +<p>"Thee needn't worry about provisions or anything," he said hesitatingly; +"some of the neighbors will come in and help thee get started. Thee'll +want to rest now. I guess I'll be going."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mustn't go without seeing Baby!" insisted the young mother, +beginning to unswathe the shapeless bundle on the bed.</p> + +<p>Enoch moved nearer, and waited until the tiny crumpled bud of a face +appeared among the wrappings.</p> + +<p>"<i>Isn't</i> he sweet?" pleaded the girl rapturously.</p> + +<p>Enoch bent over and gazed into the quaint little sleeping countenance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He's a very nice baby," he said, with gentle emphasis.</p> + +<p>"And <i>so</i> good," the girl-voice rippled on; "he never cried but once on +the way out here, and that time I didn't blame him one bit; I wanted to +cry myself,—we were so hot and tired and dusty. But he sleeps—oh, the +way he <i>does</i> sleep. There! did you notice him smile? I think he knows +my voice. He often smiles that way when I am talking to him."</p> + +<p>She caught him out of his loosened sheath and held him against her +breast with the look on her face that has baffled the art of so many +centuries.</p> + +<p>It was thus that Enoch remembered her as he went down the street to the +store.</p> + +<p>"I would have taken her right home to Rachel," he said to himself, "but +women folks sometimes ask a good many unnecessary questions, and the +poor thing is tired."</p> + + +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p>So the little widow and her baby became the wards of the town of +Muscatel. After one or two unsuccessful attempts to learn the +particulars of her husband's last illness, the good women of the place +decided that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> her bereavement was too recent to be made a subject of +conversation.</p> + +<p>The baby, on the contrary, being a topic all the more absorbing by +reason of its newness, they held long and enthusiastic conferences with +the young mother concerning his care, clothing, and diet. With that +gentle receptivity which makes some natures the defenseless targets of +advice, the inefficient little mother felt herself at times between the +upper and the nether millstones of condensed milk and Caudle's food, but +her weak, appealing face always brightened into tremulous delight when +the rival factions united, as they invariably did, on the subject of the +baby's undoubted precocity in the matter of "noticing."</p> + +<p>Enoch was called in many times to give counsel which seemed to gain from +his masculinity what it might be supposed to lack by reason of his +ignorance concerning the ailments and accomplishments of the small +stranger who held the heart of the community in his tiny purple fist. It +was to Enoch that the young mother brought her small woes, and it was +with Enoch that she left them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>The song of the hay-balers and the whir of the threshing-machine had +died out of the valley, and the raisin-making had come on. The trays +were spread in the vineyards, and the warm white air was filled with the +fruity smell of the grapes, browning and sweetening beneath the October +sun.</p> + +<p>One drowsy afternoon Enoch was in the back room of the store, weighing +barley and marking the weight on the sacks. Suddenly there was a quick +step, and a voice in the outer room, and the old man turned slowly, with +the brush in his hand, and confronted a man in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Jerry!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, uncle, here I am; slightly disfigured, but still in the ring. +How's the market? Long on barley, I see. I"—he broke off suddenly, and +assumed an air of the deepest dejection. "I've had a great deal of +trouble since I saw you, uncle. I've lost my wife."</p> + +<p>He turned to the window and pretended to look through the cobwebbed +glass.</p> + +<p>"She went off very sudden, but she was conscious to the last."</p> + +<p>Enoch stood still and slowly stirred the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> paint in the paint-pot until +his companion turned and caught the glance of his keen blue eye.</p> + +<p>"Does thee think she will stay lost, Jerry?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>The young fellow came close to Enoch's side.</p> + +<p>"You bet," he said, with low, husky intensity; "the law settled that. +She was a cursed fraud anyway," he went on, with hurrying wrath; "she +ran away with—I thought she was dead—I'll swear by"—</p> + +<p>"Thee needn't swear, Jerry," interrupted Enoch quietly; "if thy word is +good for nothing, thy blasphemy will not help it any."</p> + +<p>The young man's face relaxed. There was a little silence.</p> + +<p>"Has thee been up to thy house?" asked Enoch presently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Jerry lightly; "I dropped right in on the family +circle. The widow seems to be a nice, tidy little person, and the +kid—did you ever see anything to beat that kid, uncle?"</p> + +<p>Enoch had been appealed to on this subject before.</p> + +<p>"He's a very nice baby," he said gravely.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They seem to be settled rather comfortably, and I guess I'll get a tent +and pitch it on some of these vacant lots, and not disturb them. The +little woman isn't really well enough to move, and besides, the kid +might kick if he had to give up the cradle; perfect fit, isn't it?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Enoch," said Rachel Embody to her husband, as they drove their +flea-bitten gray mare to the Friends' meeting on First Day, "what does +thee think of Jerry Sullivan and the widow Hart marrying as they did? +Doesn't thee think it was a little sudden for both of them?"</p> + +<p>Enoch slapped the lines on the gray's callous back.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Rachel," he said; "there are some subjects which I do not +find profitable for reflection."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EM" id="EM"></a>EM.</h2> + + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>Mrs. Wickersham helped her son from his bed to a chair on the porch, and +spread a patchwork quilt over his knees when he was seated.</p> + +<p>"Don't you want something to put your feet on, Benny?" she asked +anxiously, with that hunger for servitude with which women persecute +their male sick.</p> + +<p>The invalid looked down at his feet helplessly, and then turned his eyes +toward the stretch of barley-stubble below the vineyard. A stack of +baled hay in the middle of the field cast a dense black shadow in the +afternoon sun.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not," he said absently. "Has Lawson sent any word about the +hay?"</p> + +<p>"He said he'd come and look at it in a day or two."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wickersham stood behind her son, smoothing the loose wrinkles from +his coat with her hard hand. He was scarcely more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> than a boy, and his +illness had given him that pathetic gauntness which comes from the +wasting away of youth and untried strength.</p> + +<p>"I wanted a little money before the twenty-fourth," he said, feeling one +feverish hand with the other awkwardly. "I can't seem to get used to +being sick. I thought sure I'd be ready for the hay-baling."</p> + +<p>"The doctor says you're doing real well, Benny," asserted the woman +bravely. "I guess if it ain't very much you want, we can manage it."</p> + +<p>"It's only five dollars."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wickersham went back to the kitchen and resumed her dish-washing. +Her daughter came out of the pantry where she had been putting away the +cups. She was taller than her mother, and looked down at her with +patronizing deference.</p> + +<p>"Do you think that new medicine's helping Ben any?" she asked in an +undertone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know, Emmy," the poor woman broke out desperately; +"sometimes I think his cough's a little looser, but he's getting to have +that same look about the eyes that your pa had that last winter"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>—Mrs. +Wickersham left her work abruptly, and went and stood in the doorway +with her back toward her daughter.</p> + +<p>The girl took up her mother's deserted task, and went on with it +soberly.</p> + +<p>"Shall I put on some potatoes for yeast?" she asked, after a little +heart-breaking silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess you'd better," answered the older woman; "there's only the +best part of a loaf left, and Benny hadn't ought to eat fresh bread."</p> + +<p>She came back to her work, catching eagerly at the homely suggestion of +duty.</p> + +<p>"I'll finish them," she said, taking a dish out of her daughter's hand; +"you brighten up the fire and get the potatoes."</p> + +<p>The girl walked away without looking up. When she came into the room a +little later with an armful of wood, Mrs. Wickersham was standing by the +stove.</p> + +<p>"Emmy," she said in a whisper, taking hold of her daughter's dress and +drawing her toward her, "don't tell your brother I had to pay cash to +the balers. It took all the ready money I had in the house: I'd rather +he didn't know it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What's the matter, mother?" asked the girl, looking steadily into the +older woman's worried face.</p> + +<p>"He wants five dollars next week," whispered Mrs. Wickersham, nodding +toward the door; "I hain't got it."</p> + +<p>The girl threw the wood into the woodbox and stood gazing intently at +it. She had a quaint, oval face, and the smooth folds of her dark hair +made a triangle of her high forehead. Two upright lines formed +themselves in the triangle as she gazed. She turned away without +speaking, and took a pan from the shelf and went into the shed-room for +potatoes. When she came back, she walked to her mother's side, and said +in a low voice,—</p> + +<p>"You needn't worry about the money any more, mother. I'll get it for +Ben."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i>, Em!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm going over to Bassett's raisin-camp to pick grapes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't think I'd do <i>that</i>, Emmy!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what's wrong about it?"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing wrong about it, of course; I didn't mean that. Only it +seems so—so kind of strange. None of the women<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> folks in our family's +ever done anything of that kind."</p> + +<p>"Then the women folks in our family will have to begin. I can get a +dollar a day. The Burnham girls went, and they're as good as we are. I'm +going, anyway,"—the girl's red lips shut themselves in a narrow line.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're all <i>good</i> enough, Emmy," protested Mrs. Wickersham; "it's +nothing against them, only it's going out to work. You know the way men +folks feel—I don't know what your brother will say."</p> + +<p>"You can tell him I've set my heart on it. They have great fun over +there. He wanted me to go camping to the beach with the same crowd of +young folks this summer. I'll not stay at night, mother; I'll walk home +every evening. It's no use saying anything, I'm going."</p> + +<p>"Is Steve Elliott at the camp?" asked Benny, when his mother told him.</p> + +<p>"She didn't say anything about him, Benny, but I suppose he is. Why?"</p> + +<p>"I guess that explains it," said the invalid, smiling wistfully.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>Nearly every available grape-picker in the little valley was at +Bassett's vineyard. There was a faint murmur of surprise when Em walked +into the camp on Monday morning.</p> + +<p>"I thought you weren't coming, Em," said Irene Burnham, curving her +smooth, sunburned neck away from the tall young fellow who stood beside +her.</p> + +<p>"I changed my mind," said Em quietly.</p> + +<p>"It's awful hot work," giggled Irene, "and I always burn so; I wish I +tanned. But I'm going to hold out the rest of this week, if I burn to a +cinder."</p> + +<p>"'Rene's after a new parasol," announced her brother teasingly; "she's +bound to save her complexion if it takes the skin off."</p> + +<p>The young people gave a little shout of delight, and straggled down the +aisles of the vineyard. The thick growth had fallen away from the +gnarled trunks of the vines, and the grapes hung in yellowing clusters +to the warm, sun-dried earth. The trays were scattered in uneven rows on +the plowed ground between the vines, their burden turn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>ing to sweetened +amber in the sunshine. The air was heavy with the rich, fruity ferment +of the grapes. Bees were beginning to drone among the trays. The +mountains which hemmed in the little valley were a deep, velvety blue in +the morning light. Em looked at them with a new throb in her heart. She +did not care what was beyond them as she walked between the tangled +vine-rows. Stephen Elliott had left Irene, and walked beside her. The +valley was wide enough for Em's world,—a girl's world, which is hemmed +in by mountains always, and always narrow.</p> + +<p>As the day advanced the gay calls of the grape-harvesters grew more and +more infrequent. The sky seemed to fade in the glare of the sun to a +pale, whitish blue. Buzzards reeled through the air, as if drunken with +sunlight. The ashen soil of the vineyard burned Em's feet and dazzled +her eyes. She stood up now and then and looked far down the valley where +the yellow barley-stubble shimmered off into haze. As she looked, +something straightened her lips into a resolute line and sent her back +to her work with softened eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you get very tired, Em?" her brother asked, as she sat in the +doorway at nightfall.</p> + +<p>The girl leaned her head against the casement as if to steady her weary +voice.</p> + +<p>"Not very," she said slowly and gravely; "it's a little warm at noon, +but I don't mind it."</p> + +<p>"I thought sure I'd be up by this time," fretted the invalid, the +yearning in his heart that pain could not quench turning his sympathy to +envy.</p> + +<p>"The doctor says you're getting on real well, Ben," said Em steadily.</p> + +<p>The young fellow looked down at his wasted hands, gray and ghostly in +the twilight.</p> + +<p>"Was 'Rene there?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It isn't like having your sister go out to work, Benny," said Mrs. +Wickersham soothingly; "just the neighbors, and real nice folks, too. I +wouldn't fret about it."</p> + +<p>On Wednesday morning, as Em neared the camp, she saw the grape-pickers +gathered in a little group before the girls'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> tent. Steve Elliott +separated himself from the crowd, and came to meet her.</p> + +<p>"We've struck, Em," he said, smiling down at her from the shadow of his +big hat.</p> + +<p>"Who's we?" asked Em gravely.</p> + +<p>"All of us. They're paying a dollar and a quarter over at Briggs's; we +ain't a-goin' to stand it."</p> + +<p>Em had stopped in the path. The young fellow stepped behind her, and she +went on.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you all go over to Briggs's and go to work?" she asked, +without turning her head.</p> + +<p>"Too far—the foreman'll come to time."</p> + +<p>They came up to the noisy group, and Em seated herself on a pile of +trays and loosened the strings of her wide hat; she was tired from her +walk, and the pallor of her face made her lips seem redder.</p> + +<p>Irene Burnham crossed over to the newcomer, shrugging herself with +girlish self-consciousness.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it just too mean, Em?" she panted; "I know they'll discharge us. +That means good-by to my new parasol; I've been dying for one all +summer, a red silk one"—</p> + +<p>"Let up on the parasol racket, Sis,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> called one of the Burnham boys; +"business is business."</p> + +<p>The hum of the young voices went on, mingled with gay, irresponsible +laughter. Em got up and began to tie her hat.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" asked one of the girls.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to work."</p> + +<p>"To work! why, we've struck!"</p> + +<p>"I haven't," said Em soberly. "I'm willing to work for a dollar a day."</p> + +<p>There was a little cry of dismay from the girls; Steve Elliott's tanned +face flushed a coppery red.</p> + +<p>"You ain't goin' back on us, Em?" he said angrily.</p> + +<p>"I ain't going back on my word," answered the girl; "you needn't work if +you don't want to; this is a free country."</p> + +<p>"It isn't, though,"' said Ike Burnham; "the raisin men have a +ring—there's no freedom where there's rings."</p> + +<p>"I suppose they go into them because they want to," said Em, setting her +lips.</p> + +<p>"They go into them because they'd get left if they didn't."</p> + +<p>"Well, if I was a raisin man," persisted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> the girl quietly, "and wanted +to go into a ring, I'd do it; but if anybody undertook to boss me into +it, they'd have the same kind of a contract on hand that you've got." +She turned her back on the little group and started toward the vineyard.</p> + +<p>Irene had drifted toward Steve Elliott's side and was smiling +expectantly up into his bronzed face. He broke away from her glance and +strode after the retreating figure.</p> + +<p>"Em!" The girl turned quickly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Steve!" she cried, with a pleading sob in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Em, you're making a fool of yourself!" he broke out cruelly.</p> + +<p>The curve in the red lips straightened.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone!" she gasped, putting up her hand to her throat. "If I'm +to be made a fool of, I'd rather do it myself. I guess I can stand it, +if you'll let me alone!"</p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>When Bassett's foreman rode into the vineyard at noon to talk with the +strikers, he saw a wide brown hat moving slowly among the vine-rows.</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" he asked, pointing with his whip.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Em Wickersham," said one of the group sullenly.</p> + +<p>The foreman turned his horse's head, and galloped down the furrow.</p> + +<p>"Miss Wickersham."</p> + +<p>Em straightened herself, and pushed back her hat.</p> + +<p>"You don't want to give up your job?"</p> + +<p>The girl shaded her eyes with her hand. There was an unsteady movement +of her chin before she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to work till Friday night," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd like to keep you; but I don't know how it will be. I won't +stand any of their nonsense,"—he jerked his head toward the camp; "I'm +going to send over to Aliso Caņon for a wagon-load of pickers. I'm +pretty certain I can get them, but they'll all be men; you might find it +a little unpleasant."</p> + +<p>"Who are they?" asked Em.</p> + +<p>"Only a lot of ranchers picked up over the neighborhood," said the +foreman. "I think I can find enough men and boys who are through +harvesting. I'll try anyway."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Will you be here all the time?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>"All of to-morrow and most of Friday," he answered, wondering a little.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess if you don't care, I'll stay; I guess they won't hurt +me,"—the wraith of a smile flitted across her face.</p> + +<p>"All right." The foreman urged his horse forward.</p> + +<p>"The Wickershams must be hard pressed," he said to himself; "the girl +looks pale. Confound those young rascals!"</p> + +<p>Across at the camp Em could hear laughter and snatches of song. The soft +rustle of the grape-leaves in the tepid breeze seemed to emphasize the +stillness about her. Now and then a quail, tilting its queer little +crest, scurried across the furrows and whirred out of sight. Pink-footed +doves ran along the edge of the vineyard, mourning plaintively. The girl +worked on without faltering, looking down the valley now and then +through a blur that was not haze, and seeing always something there that +dulled the pain of her loneliness.</p> + +<p>The day wore on. Em had eaten her lunch alone, in the shadow of the +cypress<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> hedge. As the afternoon advanced and the sea-breeze wandered +over the mountains in fitful gusts, the campers trooped homeward, still +laughing and calling to each other with reckless shouts. Em straightened +her aching limbs, and watched them as they went. 'Rene's pink dress +fluttered close to the tallest form among them, loitering a little, and +standing out in silhouette against the afternoon sky at the end of the +straggling procession as it disappeared over the hilltop.</p> + + +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>It was Friday evening, and Em laid five silver dollars on the kitchen +table beside her mother.</p> + +<p>"You can give that to Ben," she said wearily.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wickersham glanced from the money to her daughter's dusty shoes, +and set, colorless face.</p> + +<p>"Emmy, I'm afraid you've overdone," she said with a start.</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't," answered the girl without flinching; "it's been a +little hard yesterday and to-day, and I'm tired, that's all. Don't tell +Ben."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you too tired to go to the church sociable this evening?" pursued +the mother anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe I am."</p> + +<p>"I saw Steve Elliott and 'Rene Burnham driving that way a few minutes +ago. I thought they was over at the camp." Mrs. Wickersham had resumed +her work and had her back toward her daughter.</p> + +<p>"They weren't there to-day," said Em listlessly.</p> + +<p>"Does she go with him much?"</p> + +<p>There was a rising resentment in Mrs. Wickersham's voice. Em glanced at +her anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"I don't see how she can act so!" the older woman broke out indignantly.</p> + +<p>The girl's face turned a dull white; she opened her lips to breathe.</p> + +<p>"I used to think she liked Benny," Mrs. Wickersham went on, speaking in +a heated undertone. "I should think she'd be ashamed of herself."</p> + +<p>Em's voice came back.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe Ben cares, mother," she said soothingly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't care if he doesn't, she'd ought to," urged Mrs. Wickersham, +with maternal logic.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of strained, ineffectual coughing in the front room. +Mrs. Wickersham left her work and hurried away. When she came back Em +was sitting on the doorstep with her forehead in her hands.</p> + +<p>"Benny's got a notion he could drive over to the store to-morrow," her +mother began excitedly; "he's got something in his head. He thinks if +Joe Atkinson would bring their low buggy—I'm sure I don't know what to +say;" the poor woman's voice trembled with responsibility.</p> + +<p>Em got up with a quick, decisive movement.</p> + +<p>"Don't say anything, mother. If Ben wants to go, he's got to go. I'll +run over to Atkinson's right away."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wickersham caught her daughter's arm.</p> + +<p>"No, no; not to-night. He said in the morning, he must be better, don't +you think so, Emmy?" she pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Em fiercely. Then she turned and fastened a loosened +hairpin in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> her mother's disordered hair. Even a caress wore its little +mask of duty with Em. "Of course he's better, mother," she said more +gently.</p> + + +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p>It was Sunday, and the little valley was still with the stillness of +warm, drowsy, quiescent life. At noon, the narrow road stretching +between the shadowless barley-fields was haunted by slender, hurrying +spirals of dust, like phantoms tempted by the silence to a wild frolic +in the sunlight. The white air shimmered in wavy lines above the +stubble. Em shut her eyes as she came out of the little church, as if +the glare blinded her. Steve was waiting near the door, and a sudden, +unreasoning hope thrilled her heart. He was looking for some one. She +could hear the blood throbbing in her temples. He took a step forward. +Then a red silken cloud shut out her sun, and the riot died out of her +poor young heart. 'Rene was smiling up into his sunburned face from +the roseate glory of her new parasol. Em walked home through the +sunlight with the echo of their banter humming in her ears.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ben sat on the porch watching for her, a feverish brightness in his +sunken eyes.</p> + +<p>"Was 'Rene at church?" he asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ben."</p> + +<p>Em stood behind his chair, looking down at the cords of his poor, wasted +neck. Her eyelids burned with hot, unshed tears.</p> + +<p>"Did she look nice—did she have anything new?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she had a new parasol. She looked real pretty." The girl spoke +with dull, unfeeling gentleness. Ben tried to turn and look up into her +face.</p> + +<p>"She's been wanting it all summer. I told her 'way long in the spring +that I'd get it for her birthday. I wonder if she forgot it? I didn't +have any idea I'd be laid up this way."</p> + +<p>Em stood perfectly still.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet she was surprised, Em," he went on wistfully; "do you think +she'll come over and say anything about it?"</p> + +<p>"She'd better," said Em, setting her teeth in her bright under lip.</p> + +<p>The invalid gave a little, choking cough, and looked out across the +valley. A red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> spot was moving through the stubble toward the house. He +put up his hot hand and laid it on Em's cold fingers.</p> + +<p>"Mother tried to fool me about the money," he said feebly, "but I think +I know where she got it. I don't mean to forget it either, Em. I'll pay +it back just as soon as I get up."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ben."</p> + +<p>The girl dropped her cheek on his head with a little wailing sob.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ben, I ain't a bit afraid about my pay." Then she slipped her hand +from under his and went into the house.</p> + +<p>The red spot was drawing nearer. Mrs. Wickersham glanced through the +open window at her son.</p> + +<p>"Benny's looking brighter than I've seen him in a long time," she +thought. "I guess his ride yesterday done him good."</p> + +<p>And in her little room Em sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the +wall through blinding tears.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had it all to do over again," she said. "I'd do it all—even +if I knew—for Ben!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="COLONEL_BOB_JARVIS" id="COLONEL_BOB_JARVIS"></a>COLONEL BOB JARVIS.</h2> + + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>We were sojourning between Anaheim and the sea. There was a sunshiny +dullness about the place, like the smiles of a vapid woman. The bit of +vineyard surrounding our whitewashed cabin was an emerald set in the +dull, golden-brown plain. Before the door an artesian well glittered in +the sun like an inverted crystal bowl. Esculapius called the spot +Fezzan, and gradually I came to think the well a fountain, and the +sunburnt waste about us a stretch of yellow sand.</p> + +<p>When I had walked to the field of whispering corn behind the house, and +through the straggling vines to the edge of the vineyard in front, I +came back to where my invalid sat beneath the feathery acacias, dreaming +in happy lonesomeness.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see such placid, bright, ethereal stillness?" I asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>Esculapius took his cigar from his lips and looked at me pensively.</p> + +<p>"It may be my misfortune, I hope it is not my fault, but I do not +remember to have seen stillness of any sort."</p> + +<p>Esculapius has but one shortcoming—he is not a poet. I never wound him +by appearing to notice this defect, so I sat down on the dry burr-clover +and made no reply.</p> + +<p>"You think it is still," he went on in a mannish, instructive way, "but +in fact there are a thousand sounds. At night, when it is really quiet, +you will hear the roar of the ocean ten miles away. Hark!"</p> + +<p>Our host was singing far down in the corn. He was a minister, a +deep-toned Methodist, brimming over with vocal piety.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Nearer the great white throne,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nearer the jasper sea,"—</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>came to us in slow, rich cadences.</p> + +<p>The fern-like branches above us stirred softly against the blue. Little +aromatic whiffs came from the grove of pale eucalyptus-trees near the +house. Esculapius diluted the intoxicating air with tobacco smoke and +remained sane, but as for me the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> sunshine went to my head, and whirled +and eddied there like some Eastern drug.</p> + +<p>"My love," I said wildly, "if we stay here very long and nothing +happens, I shall do something rash."</p> + +<p>The next morning a huge derrick frowned in the dooryard, and a +picturesque group of workmen lounged under the acacias. The well had +ceased to flow.</p> + +<p>Esculapius called me to a corner of the piazza, and spoke in low, +hurried tones.</p> + +<p>"Something has happened," he said; "the well has stopped. I thought it +might relieve your feelings to get off that quotation about the golden +bowl and the wheel, and the pitcher, and the fountain, etc.; then, if it +is safe to leave you, I would like to go hunting."</p> + +<p>I looked at him with profound compassion.</p> + +<p>"I have forgotten the quotation," I said, "but I think it begins: 'The +grinders shall cease because they are few.' Perhaps you had better take +your shotgun, and don't forget your light overcoat. Good-by."</p> + +<p>Then I took a pitcher and went down the walk to the disglorified well. +The mu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>sical drip on the pebbles was hushed; the charm of our oasis had +departed. In its place stood a length of rusty pipe full of standing +water. Some bits of maiden's-hair I had placed in reach of the cool +spray yesterday were already withered in the sun. I took the gourd from +its notch in the willows sadly. Some one had been before me and carved +"Ichabod" on its handle. I filled my pitcher and turned to go. A tall +form separated itself from the group of workmen and came gallantly +forward.</p> + +<p>"Madame," said a rich, hearty voice, "if you'll just allow me, I'll +tackle that pitcher and tote it in for you. Jarvis is my name, Colonel +Bob Jarvis, well-borer. We struck a ten-inch flow down at Scranton's +last week, and rather knocked the bottom out of things around here."</p> + +<p>"But the pitcher isn't at all heavy, Colonel Jarvis."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind that: anything's too heavy for a lady; that's my +sentiments. You see, I'm a ladies' man,—born and brought up to it. +Nursed my mother and two aunts and a grandmother through consumption, +and never let one of 'em lift a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> finger. 'Robert,' my mother used to +say, in her thin, sickly voice, 'Robert, be true to God and the women;' +and, by godfrey, I mean to be."</p> + +<p>I relinquished the pitcher instantly. Esculapius was right; something +had happened. The well was gone, but in its place I had found something +a thousand times more refreshing. When my husband returned, he found me +sitting breathless and absorbed under the acacias.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" I said, with upraised finger; "listen!"</p> + +<p>Our host and the colonel were talking as they worked at the well.</p> + +<p>"We've had glorious meetings this week over at Gospel Swamp, Jarvis," +the minister was saying. "I looked for you every night. If you could +just come over and hear the singing, and have some of the good brothers +and sisters pray with you, don't you think"—</p> + +<p>"Why, God bless your soul, man!" interrupted the colonel; "don't you +know I'm religious? I'm with you right along, as to first principles, +that is; but, you see, I can't quite go the Methodist doctrine. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> was +raised a Presbyterian, you know,—regular black-and-blue Calvinist,—and +what a fellow takes in with his mother's milk sticks by him. I'm +attached to the old ideas,—infant damnation, and total depravity, and +infernal punishment, and the interference of the saints. You fellows +over at the Swamp are loose! Why, by—the way, my mother used to say to +me, in her delicate, squeaky voice: 'Robert, beware of Methodists; +they're loose, my son, loose as a bag of bones.' No, indeed, I wouldn't +want you to think me indifferent to religion; religion's my forte. Why, +by—and by, I mean to start a Presbyterian church right here under your +nose."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of it," responded the minister warmly; "you've no idea how +glad I am, Jarvis."</p> + +<p>"Why, man alive, that church is in my mind day and night. I want to get +about forty good, pious Presbyterian families to settle around here, and +I'll bore wells for 'em, and talk up the church business between times. +You saw me carrying that lady's pitcher for her this morning, didn't +you? Well, by—the way, that was a reli<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>gious move entirely. I took her +man for a Presbyterian preacher the minute I struck the ranch; maybe +it's poor health gives him that cadaverous look, but you can't most +always tell. More likely it's religion. At any rate"—</p> + +<p>Esculapius retreated in wild disorder, and did not appear again until +supper-time. When that meal was finished, Colonel Jarvis followed me as +I walked to the piazza.</p> + +<p>"If it ain't presuming, madam," he said confidentially, "I'd like to ask +your advice. I take it you're from the city, now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, with preternatural gravity; "what makes you think +so?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I knew it by your gait, mostly. A woman that's raised in the +country walks as if she was used to havin' the road to herself; city +women are generally good steppers. But that ain't the point. I'm engaged +to be married!"</p> + +<p>My composure under this announcement was a good deal heightened by the +fact that Esculapius, who had sauntered out after us, whistling to +himself, became suddenly quiet, and disappeared tumultuously.</p> + +<p>"Engaged to be married!" I said. "Let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> me congratulate you, Colonel. May +I hope to see the fortunate young lady?"</p> + +<p>"That depends. You see, I'm in a row,—the biggest kind of a row, by—a +good deal; and I thought you might give me a lift. She's a 'Frisco lady, +you know; one of your regular high-flyers; black eyes, bangs, no end o' +spirit. You see, she was visitin' over at Los Nietos, and we made it up, +and when she went back to 'Frisco I thought I'd send her a ring; so I +bought this," fumbling in his pocket, and producing the most astounding +combination of red glass and pinchbeck; "and, by godfrey! she sent it +back to me. Now, I don't see anything wrong about that ring; do you?"</p> + +<p>"It is certainly a little—well, peculiar, at least, for an engagement +ring; perhaps she would like something a trifle less showy. Ladies have +a great many whims about jewelry, you know."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. That is just what I reflected. So I went and bought <i>this</i>" +(triumphantly displaying a narrow band); "now that's what I call +genteel; don't you? Well, if you'll believe it, she sent that back, too, +by—return mail. I wish I'd fetched you the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> letter she wrote; if it +wasn't the spiciest piece of literature I ever read by—anybody. 'She'd +have me understand she wasn't a barmaid nor a Quaker; and if I didn't +know what was due a lady in her position, I'd better find out before I +aspired to her hand,' <i>et cetery</i>. Oh, I tell you, she's grit; no end o' +mettle. So, you see, I've struck a boulder, and it gets me bad, because +I meant to see the parson through with his well here, and then go on to +'Frisco and get married. Now, if you'll help me through, and get me into +sand and gravel again, and your man decides to settle in these parts, +I'll guarantee you a number one well, good, even two-inch flow, and no +expense but pipe and boardin' hands. I'll do it, by—some means."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Colonel," I said, struggling with a laugh; "I couldn't allow +that. It gives me great pleasure to advise you, only it's a very +delicate matter, you know—and—really" (I was casting about wildly for +an inspiration) "wouldn't it be better to go on to the city, as you +intended, and ask the lady to go with you and exercise her own taste in +selecting a ring?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>My companion took a step backward, folded his arms, and looked at me +admiringly.</p> + +<p>"Well, if it don't beat all how a woman walks through a millstone! Now +that's what I call neat. Why, God bless you, madam, I've been boring at +that thing for a week steady, night and day, by—myself, and making no +headway. It makes me think of my mother. 'Robert,' she used to say (and +she had a very small, trembly voice),—'Robert, a woman's little finger +weighs more than a man's whole carcass;' and she was right. I'll +be—destroyed if she wasn't right!"</p> + +<p>Esculapius laughed rather unnecessarily when I repeated this +conversation to him.</p> + +<p>"I am willing to allow that it's funny," I said; "but after all there is +a rude pathos in the man, an untutored chivalry. Nearly every man loves +and reverences a woman; but this man loves and reverences women. It is +old-fashioned, I know, but it has a breezy sweetness of its own, like +the lavender and rosemary of our grandmothers; don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>There was no reply. I imagine that Es<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>culapius is sensible at times of +his want of ideality, and feels a delicacy in conversing with me. So I +went on musingly:—</p> + +<p>"With such natures love is an instinct; and it is to instinct, after +all, that we must look for everything that is fresh and poetic in +humanity. We have all made this sacrifice to culture,—a sacrifice of +force to expression. Isn't it so, my love?"</p> + +<p>Still no reply.</p> + +<p>"I like to picture to myself the affection of which such a man is +capable, for no doubt he loves this girl of whom he speaks; not, of +course, as you—as you <i>ought</i> to love me, but with a rude, wild +sincerity, a sort of rugged grandeur. Imagine him betrayed by her. A man +of the world might grow white about the lips and sick at heart, but he +would find relief in cynicism and bitter words. This man would +<i>act</i>,—some wild, strange act of vengeance. The cultured nature is a +honeycomb: his is a solid mass; and masses give us our most picturesque +effects. Don't you think so, my dear?"</p> + +<p>And still no reply.</p> + +<p>"Esculapius!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, my love?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it barbarous of you not to answer when I speak to you?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly; at least it has that appearance, but there are mitigating +circumstances, my dear. I was asleep."</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>Two weeks later the colonel brought his wife to call upon me. She was a +showy, loud-voiced blonde, resplendently over-dressed. At the first +opportunity her husband motioned me aside.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she about the gayest piece of calico you ever saw?" he asked, +with proud confidence. "Doesn't she lay over anything around here by a +large majority?"</p> + +<p>"She is certainly a very striking woman," I said gravely, "and one who +does you great credit. But I am a little surprised, Colonel. No doubt it +was a mistake, but I got the impression in some way that the lady was a +brunette."</p> + +<p>The colonel's countenance fell. "Now, look here," he said, after a +little reflection; "I don't mind telling you, because you're up to the +city ways and you'll understand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> The fact is, this <i>isn't the one</i>. You +see, I went on to 'Frisco as you advised, and planked down a check for +five hundred dollars the minute I got there. 'Now,' said I, 'Bob Jarvis +don't do things by halves; just you take that money, my girl, and get +yourself a ring that's equal to the occasion. I don't care if it's a +cluster of solitary diamonds as big as a section of well-pipe.' Now, I +call that square, don't you? Well, God bless your soul, madam, if she +didn't take that money and skip out with another fellow! Some +white-livered city sneak—beggin' your husband's pardon—who'd been +hangin' around for a year or more. Of course I was stuck when I heard of +it. It was this one told me. She's her sister. I could see that she felt +bad about it. 'It was a nasty, dirty trick,' she said; and I'll +be—demoralized if I don't think so myself, and said so at the time. +But, after all, it turned out a lucky thing for me. Now look at that, +will you?"</p> + +<p>I followed his gaze of admiring fondness to where Mrs. Jarvis was, +bridling and simpering under Esculapius's compliments.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she a nosegay? But don't you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> be jealous, madam; she's just +wrapped up in me, and constant," he added, shaking his head +reflectively; "why, bless your soul, she's as constant as sin."</p> + +<p>When I told Esculapius of this he sighed deeply.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" I asked, with some anxiety.</p> + +<p>He threw back his head and sent a little dreamy cloud of smoke up +through the acacias.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking," he said, pensively, "what a 'wild, strange act of +vengeance' it was!"</p> + +<p>I looked him sternly in the eye. "My dear," I said, "I don't think you +ought to distress yourself about that. I never should have reminded you +of it. You were dreaming, you know, and you are not responsible for what +you dream. Besides, dreams are like human nature, they always go by +contraries."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BRICE" id="BRICE"></a>BRICE.</h2> + + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>He came up the mountain road at nightfall, urging his lean mustang +forward wearily, and coughing now and then—a heavy, hollow cough that +told its own story.</p> + +<p>There were only two houses on the mesa stretching shaggy and sombre with +greasewood from the base of the mountains to the valley below,—two +unpainted redwood dwellings, with their clumps of trailing pepper-trees +and tattered bananas,—mere specks of civilization against a stern +background of mountain-side. The traveler halted before one of them, +bowing awkwardly as the master of the house came out.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brandt, I reckon."</p> + +<p>Joel Brandt looked up into the stranger's face. Not a bad face, +certainly: sallow and drawn with suffering,—one of those hopelessly +pathetic faces, barely saved from the grotesque by a pair of dull, +wistful eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> Not that Joel Brandt saw anything either grotesque or +pathetic about the man.</p> + +<p>"Another sickly looking stranger outside, Barbara, wants to try the air +up here. Can you keep him? Or maybe the Fox's'll give him a berth."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brandt shook her head in a house-wifely meditation.</p> + +<p>"No; Mrs. Fox can't, that's certain. She has an asthma and two +bronchitises there now. What's the matter with him, Joel?"</p> + +<p>The stranger's harsh, resonant cough answered.</p> + +<p>"Keep him?—to be sure. You might know I'd keep him, Joel; the night +air's no place for a man to cough like that. Bring him into the kitchen +right away."</p> + +<p>The newcomer spread his bony hands over Mrs. Brandt's cheery fire, and +the soft, dull eyes followed her movements wistfully.</p> + +<p>"The fire feels kind o' homey, ma'am; Californy ain't much of a place +for fires, it 'pears."</p> + +<p>"Been long on the coast, stranger?" Joel squared himself +interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"'Bout a week. I'm from Indianny.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> Brice's my name—Posey Brice the boys +'n the glass-mill called me. I wuz blowed up in a glass-mill oncet." The +speaker turned to show an ugly scar on his neck. "Didn't know where I +wuz fer six weeks—thought I hadn't lit. When I come to, there wuz Loisy +potterin' over me; but I ain't been rugged sence."</p> + +<p>"Married?"</p> + +<p>The man's answer broke through the patient homeliness of his face at +once. He fumbled in his pocket silently, like one who has no common +disclosure to make.</p> + +<p>"What d' ye think o' them, stranger?"</p> + +<p>Joel took the little, rusty, black case in his hands reverently. A +woman's face, not grand, nor fair even, some bits of tawdry finery +making its plainness plainer; and beside it a round-eyed boy plumped +into a high chair, with two little feet sticking sturdily out in Joel's +face.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brandt looked over her husband's shoulder with kindly curiosity.</p> + +<p>"The boy favors you amazingly about the mouth; but he's got his mother's +eyes, and they're sharp, knowin' eyes, too. He's a bright one, I'll be +bound."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yours, I reckon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's Loisy an' the boy," fighting the conscious pride in his +voice like one who tries to wear his honors meekly.</p> + +<p>He took the well-worn case again, gazing into the two faces an instant +with helpless yearning, and returned it to its place. The very way he +handled it was a caress, fastening the little brass hook with scrupulous +care.</p> + +<p>"I'll be sendin' fur 'em when I git red o' this pesterin' cough."</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>A very quiet, unobtrusive guest Mrs. Brandt found the man Brice; talking +little save in a sudden gush of confidence, and always of his wife and +child; choosing a quiet corner of the kitchen in the chill California +nights, where he watched his hostess's deft movements with wistful +admiration.</p> + +<p>"Try huntin', Brice; the doctors mostly say it's healthy."</p> + +<p>And Brice tried hunting, as Joel advised, taking the gun from its crotch +over the door after breakfast, and wandering for hours in the yellow, +wine-like air of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> mesa. He came in at noon and nightfall always +empty-handed, yet no one derided his failure. There was something about +the man that smothered derision.</p> + +<p>"A sort o' thunderin' patience that knocks a fellow," Bert Fox put it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brandt had always an encouraging word for the hunter.</p> + +<p>"Greasewood's bad fer huntin'. Joel says it don't pay to look fer quail +in the brush when he does fetch 'em down."</p> + +<p>"Like enough. I dunno, ma'am. Reckon I've had a good many shots at the +little wild critters, but they allus turn their heads so kind o' +innocent like. A man as has been blowed up oncet hisself ain't much at +separatin' fam'lies. But I s'pose it ain't the shootin' that's healthy, +mebbe."</p> + +<p>And so the hunting came to an end without bloodshed. Whether the doctors +were right, or whether it was the mingled resin and honey of the sage +and chaparral, no one cared to ask. Certain it is that the "pesterin' +cough" yielded a little, and the bent form grew a trifle more erect.</p> + +<p>"I think likely it's the lookin' up, ma'am. Mountains seem to straighten +a fellow some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> way. 'Pears to me somebody writ oncet uv liftin' his eyes +to the hills fer help. Mebbe not, though. I ain't much at recollectin' +verses. Loisy's a powerful hand that way."</p> + +<p>Perhaps the man was right. It was the looking up.</p> + +<p>He followed Joel from the table one morning, stopping outside, his face +full of patient eagerness.</p> + +<p>"I'm gittin' right smart o' strength, neighbor. Ef there's odd jobs you +could gi' me; I'd be slow, mebbe, but seems like 'most anything 'ud be +better 'n settin' 'round."</p> + +<p>Joel scratched his head reflectively. The big, brawny-handed fellow felt +no disposition to smile at his weak brother.</p> + +<p>"Fox and I wuz sayin' yesterday we'd like to put another man on the +ditch; it'll be easy work fer a week, till we strike rock again. Then +there's the greasewood. It's always on hand. You might take it slow, +grubbin' when you wuz able. I guess we'll find you jobs enough, man."</p> + +<p>The scarred, colorless face brightened.</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, neighbor. Ef you'll be so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> kind, there's another little +matter. I'll have a trifle over when I've paid your woman fer her +trouble. I wuz thinkin' like enough you'd let me run up a shanty on yer +place here. Loisy wouldn't mind about style—just a roof to bring 'em +to. It's fer her and the boy, you know," watching Joel's face eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Brice; we'll make it all right. Just take things kind o' +easy. I'll be goin' in with wood next week, and I'll fetch you out a +load o' lumber. We'll make a day of it after 'while, and put up your +house in a jiffy."</p> + +<p>And so Brice went to work on the ditch, gently at first, spared from the +heaviest work by strong arms and rough kindliness. And so, ere long, +another rude dwelling went up on the mesa, the blue smoke from its +fireside curling slowly toward the pine-plumed mountain-tops.</p> + +<p>The building fund, scanty enough at best, was unexpectedly swelled by a +sudden and obstinate attack of forgetfulness which seized good Mrs. +Brandt.</p> + +<p>"No, Brice, you haven't made me a spark o' trouble, not a spark. I'm +sure you've<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> paid your way twice over bringin' in wood, and grindin' +coffee, an' the like. Many a man'd asked wages for the half you've done, +so I'm gettin' off easy to call it square." And the good lady stood her +ground unflinchingly.</p> + +<p>"You've been powerful good to me, ma'am. We'll be watchin' our chance to +make it up to you,—Loisy an' me. I'll be sendin' fer Loisy d'reckly +now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, man, and there'll be bits o' furniture and things to get. +Spread your money thin, and Mrs. Fox and me'll come in and put you to +rights when you're lookin' for her."</p> + +<p>He brought the money to Joel at last, a motley collection of gold and +silver pieces.</p> + +<p>"Ef ye'll be so kind as to send it to 'er, neighbor,—Mrs. Loisy Brice, +Plattsville, Indianny. I've writ the letter tellin' her how to come. +There's enough fer the ticket and a trifle to spare. The boy's a master +hand at scuffin' out shoes an' things. You'll not make any mistake +sendin' it, will you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Brice; it'll go straight as a rocket. Let me see now. The +letter'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> be a week, then 'lowin' 'em a week to get started"—</p> + +<p>"Loisy won't be a week startin', neighbor."</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, man. 'Lowin' 'em a week to get off, that's two weeks; +then them emigrant trains is slow, say thirteen days on the +road,—that's about another fortnight,—four weeks; this is the fifth, +ain't it? Twenty-eight and five's thirty-three; that'll be the third o' +next month, say. Now mind what I tell you, Brice; don't look fer 'em a +minute before the third,—not a minute."</p> + +<p>"'Pears like a long spell to wait, neighbor."</p> + +<p>"I know it, man; but it'll seem a thunderin' sight longer after you +begin to look fer 'em."</p> + +<p>"I reckon you're right. Say four weeks from to-day, then. Like enough +you'll be goin' in."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we'll hitch up and meet 'em at the train,—you and me. The +women'll have things kind o' snug ag'in' we git home. Four weeks'll soon +slide along, man."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>Joel went into the house smiling softly.</p> + +<p>"I had to be almost savage with the fellow, Barbara. The anxious seat's +no place fer a chap like him; it'd wear him to a toothpick in a week."</p> + +<p>"But she might get here before that, you know, Joel."</p> + +<p>"I'll fix that with the men at the depot. If she comes sooner we'll have +her out here in a hurry. Wish to goodness she would."</p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>The Southern winter blossomed royally. Bees held high carnival in the +nodding spikes of the white sage, and now and then a breath of perfume +from the orange groves in the valley came up to mingle with the wild +mountain odors. Brice worked every moment with feverish earnestness, and +the pile of gnarled roots on the clearing grew steadily larger. With all +her loveliness, Nature failed to woo him. What was the exquisite languor +of those days to him but so many hours of patient waiting? The dull eyes +saw nothing of the lavish beauty around him then, looking through it all +with restless yearning to where an emigrant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> train, with its dust and +dirt and noisome breath, crawled over miles of alkali, or hung from +dizzy heights.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow's the third, neighbor. I reckon she'll be 'long now +d'reckly."</p> + +<p>"That's a fact; what a rattler time is!" The days had not been long to +Joel. "We'll go in to-morrow, and if they don't come you can stay and +watch the trains awhile. She won't know you, Brice; you've picked up +amazingly."</p> + +<p>"I think likely Loisy'll know me if she comes."</p> + +<p>But she did not come. Joel returned the following night alone, having +left Brice at cheap lodgings near the station. Numberless passers-by +must have noticed the patient watcher at the incoming trains, the homely +pathos of his face deepening day by day, the dull eyes growing a shade +duller, and the awkward form a trifle more stooped with each succeeding +disappointment. It was two weeks before he reappeared on the mesa, +walking wearily like a man under a load.</p> + +<p>"I reckon there's something wrong, ma'am. I come out to see ef yer man +'ud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> write me a letter. I hadn't been long in Plattsville, but I worked +a spell fer a man named Yarnell; like enough he'd look it up a little. I +ain't much at writin', an' I'd want it all writ out careful like, you +know." The man's voice had the old, uncomplaining monotony.</p> + +<p>Joel wrote the letter at once, making the most minute inquiries +regarding Mrs. Brice, and giving every possible direction concerning her +residence. Then Brice fell back into the old groove, working feverishly, +in spite of Mrs. Brandt's kindly warnings.</p> + +<p>"I can't stop, ma'am; the settin' 'round 'ud kill me."</p> + +<p>The answer came at last, a businesslike epistle, addressed to Joel. Mrs. +Brice had left Plattsville about the time designated. Several of her +neighbors remembered that a stranger, a well-dressed man, had been at +the house for nearly a week before her departure, and the two had gone +away together, taking the Western train. The writer regretted his +inability to give further information, and closed with kindly inquiries +concerning his former employee's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> health, and earnest commendation of +him to Mr. Brandt.</p> + +<p>Joel read the letter aloud, something—some sturdy uprightness of his +own, no doubt—blinding him to its significance.</p> + +<p>"Will you read it ag'in, neighbor? I'm not over-quick."</p> + +<p>The man's voice was a revelation full of an unutterable hurt, like the +cry of some dumb wounded thing.</p> + +<p>And Joel read it again, choking with indignation now at every word.</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, neighbor. I'll trouble you to write a line thankin' him; +that's all."</p> + +<p>He got up heavily, staggering a little as he crossed the floor, and went +out into the yellow sunlight. There was the long, sun-kissed slope, the +huge pile of twisted roots, the rude shanty with its clambering vines. +The humming of bees in the sage went on drowsily. Life, infinitely +shrunken, was life still. A more cultured grief might have swooned or +cried out. This man knew no such refuge; even the poor relief of +indignation was denied to him. None of the thousand wild impulses that +come to men smitten like him flitted across his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> clouded brain. He only +knew to take up his burden dumbly and go on. If he had been wiser, could +he have known more?</p> + +<p>No one spoke of the blow that had fallen upon him. The sympathy that met +him came in the warmer clasp of hard hands and the softening of rough +voices, none the worse certainly for its quietness. Alone with her +husband, however, good Mrs. Brandt's wrath bubbled incessantly.</p> + +<p>"It's a crying, burning, blistering shame, Joel, that's what it is. I +s'pose it's the Lord's doings, but I can't see through it."</p> + +<p>"If the Lord's up to that kind o' business, Barbara, I don't see no +further use fer the devil," was the dry response.</p> + +<p>These plain, honest folk never dreamed of intruding upon their +neighbor's grief with poor suggestions of requital. Away in the city +across the mountains men babbled of remedies at law. But this man's hurt +was beyond the jurisdiction of any court. Day by day the hollow cough +grew more frequent, and the awkward step slower. Nobody asked him to +quit his work now. Even Mrs. Brandt shrank from the patient misery of +his face when idle. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> came into her kitchen one evening, choosing the +old quiet corner, and following her with his eyes silently.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything lackin', Brice?" The woman came and stood beside him, +the great wave of pity in her heart welling up to her voice and eyes.</p> + +<p>"Nothin', ma'am, thank ye. I've been thinkin'," he went on, speaking +more rapidly than was his wont, "an' I dunno. You've knowed uv people +gettin' wrong in their minds, I s'pose. They wuz mostly smart, knowin' +chaps, wuzn't they?" the low, monotonous voice growing almost sharp with +eagerness. "I reckon you never knowed of any one not over-bright gittin' +out of his head, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't talk o' them things, Brice. Just go on and do your best, and +if there's any good, or any right, or any justice, you'll come out +ahead; that's about all we know, but it's enough if we stick to it."</p> + +<p>"I reckon you're right, ma'am. 'Pears sometimes, though, as ef anything +'ud be better 'n the thinkin'."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>It all came to an end one afternoon. Brice was at work on the ditch +again, preferring the cheerful companionship of Joel and Bert Fox to his +own thoughts, and Mrs. Brandt was alone in her kitchen. Two shadows fell +across the worn threshold, and a weak, questioning voice brought the +good woman to her door instantly.</p> + +<p>"Good-day to you, ma'am. Is there a man named Brice livin' nigh here +anywhere?"</p> + +<p>It was a woman's voice,—a woman with some bits of tawdry ornament about +her, and a round-eyed boy clinging bashfully to her skirts.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brandt brought them into the house, urging the stranger to rest a +bit and get her breath.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, ma'am; I'd like to be movin' on. Do you know if he's +well,—the man Brice? We're his wife an' boy."</p> + +<p>The woman told her story presently, when Mrs. Brandt had induced her to +wait there until the men came home,—told it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> with no unnecessary words, +and her listener made no comment.</p> + +<p>"My brother come a week afore we was leavin', an' he helped us off an' +come as fur as Omaha. He'd done well out in Nebrasky, an' he give me +right smart o' money when he left. I was took sick on the road,—I +disremember jest where,—an' they left me at a town with a woman named +Dixon. She took care o' me. I was out o' my head a long time, an' when I +come to I told 'em to write to Brice, an' they writ, an' I reckon they +took the name of the place from the ticket. I was weak like fer a long +spell, an' they kep' a writin' an' no word come, an' then I recollected +about the town,—it was Los Angeles on the ticket,—and then I couldn't +think of the place I'd sent the letters to before, an' the thinkin' +worrited me, an' the doctor said I mustn't try. So I jest waited, an' +when I got to Los Angeles I kep' a-askin' fer a man named Brandt, till +one day somebody said, 'Brandt? Brandt? 'pears to me there's a Brandt +'way over beyond the Mission.' And then it come to me all at oncet that +the place I'd writ to was San Gabriel Mission. An' I went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> there an' +they showed me your house. Then a man give us a lift on his team part o' +the way, an' we walked the rest. It didn't look very fur, but they say +mountains is deceivin'. There 's somethin' kind o' grand about 'em, I +reckon; it makes everything 'pear sort o' small."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brandt told Joel about it that evening.</p> + +<p>"I just took the two of 'em up to the shanty, and opened the door, and +you'd a cried to see how pleased she was with everything. And I told her +to kindle a fire and I'd fetch up a bite o' supper. And when I'd carried +it up and left it, I just come back and stood on the step till I saw +Brice comin' home. He was walkin' slow, as if his feet was a dead +weight, and when he took hold o' the door he stopped a minute, lookin' +over the valley kind o' wishful and hopeless. I guess she heard him +come, for she opened the door, and I turned around and come in. 'Barbara +Brandt,' says I, 'you've seen your see. If God wants to look at that, I +suppose He has a right to; nobody else has, that's certain.'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="STANDARD_AND_POPULAR" id="STANDARD_AND_POPULAR"></a>STANDARD AND POPULAR</h2> + +<h3>BOOKS OF FICTION</h3> + +<p class="center">PUBLISHED BY<br /> + +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.</p> + + +<blockquote><p>Thomas Bailey Aldrich.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Story of a Bad Boy. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Marjorie Daw and Other People. Short Stories. With Frontispiece. 12mo, $1.50.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Marjorie Daw and Other Stories. In Riverside Aldine Series. 16mo, $1.00.</span><br /> +</p> +<p><span style="margin-left: 3em;">These volumes are not identical in contents.</span></p> +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Prudence Palfrey. 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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: Stories of the Foot-hills + +Author: Margaret Collier Graham + +Release Date: March 18, 2010 [EBook #31687] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES OF THE FOOT-HILLS *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.fadedpage.com + + + + + + + + + + STORIES OF THE FOOT-HILLS + + BY MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY + + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + + 1895 + + Copyright, 1895, + + BY MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM. + + _All rights reserved._ + + _The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._ + + Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + THE WITHROW WATER RIGHT 1 + + ALEX RANDALL'S CONVERSION 114 + + IDY 134 + + THE COMPLICITY OF ENOCH EMBODY 189 + + EM 212 + + COLONEL BOB JARVIS 231 + + BRICE 245 + + + + +STORIES OF THE FOOT-HILLS. + + + + +THE WITHROW WATER RIGHT. + + +I. + +Lysander Sproul, driving his dun-colored mules leisurely toward the +mesa, looked back now and then at the winery which crowned its low hill +like a bit of fortification. + +"If I'd really had any idee o' gettin' ahead o' him," he reflected, "or +circumventin' him an inch, I reckon I'd been more civil; it's no more 'n +fair to be civil to a man when you're gettin' the best of 'im; but I +hain't. I don't s'pose Indian Pete's yaller dog, standin' ahead there in +the road ready to bark at my team like mad, has any idee of eatin' a +mule, much less two, but all the same it's a satisfaction to him to be +sassy; an' seein' he's limited in his means of entertainin' hisself, I +don't begrudge him. And the Colonel don't begrudge me. When a man has +his coat pretty well wadded with greenbacks, he can stand a good deal o' +thumpin'." + +The ascent was growing rougher and more mountainous. Lysander put on the +brake and stopped "to blow" his team. Whiffs of honey-laden air came +from the stretch of chaparral on the slope behind him. He turned on the +high spring-seat, and, dangling his long legs over the wagon-box, sent a +far-reaching, indefinite gaze across the valley. There were broad acres +of yellowing vineyard, fields of velvety young barley, orange-trees in +dark orderly ranks, and here and there a peach orchard robbed of its +leaves,--a cloud of tender maroon upon the landscape. Lysander collected +his wandering glance and fixed it upon one of the pale-green +barley-fields. + +"It's about there, I reckon. Of course the old woman'll kick; but if the +Colonel has laid out to do it he'll do it, kickin' or no kickin'. If he +can't buy her out or trade her out, he'll freeze her out. Well, well, I +ain't a-carin'; she can do as she pleases." + +The man turned and took off the brake, and the mules, without further +signal, resumed their journey. Boulders began to thicken by the +roadside. The sun went down, and the air grew heavy with the soft, +resinous mountain odors. Some one stepped from the shadow of a scraggy +buckthorn in front of the team. + +"Is that you, Sandy?" + +It was a woman's voice, but it came from a figure wearing a man's hat +and coat. Lysander stopped the mules. + +"Why, Minervy! what's up?" + +"Oh, nothin'. I just walked a ways to meet you." The woman climbed up +beside her husband. "You're later 'n I 'lowed you'd be. Something must +'a' kep' you." + +"Yes, I come around by the winery. I saw Poindexter over t' the Mission, +an' he said the old Colonel wanted to see me." + +"The old Colonel wanted to see _you_, Sandy?" The woman turned upon him +anxiously in the yellow twilight. The rakishness of her attire was +grotesquely at variance with her troubled voice and small, freckled +face. "What did he want with you?" + +"Well, he _said_ he wanted me to help him make a trade with the old +man,"--Lysander sent a short, explosive laugh through his nostrils; "an' +I told 'im I reckoned he knowed that the old woman was the old man, up +our way." + +"Oh, I'm glad you give it to 'im that way, Sandy," said the woman +earnestly, rising to her habiliments. "Mother'll be prouder 'n a peacock +of you. I hope you held your head high and sassed him right and left." +Mrs. Sproul straightened her manly back and raised her shrill, womanish +voice nervously. "Oh, I hope you told him you'd stood at the cannon's +mouth before, an' wasn't afraid to face him or any other red-handed +destroyer of his country's flag. I hope you told him that, Sandy." + +"Well, I wasn't to say brash," returned her husband slowly and +soothingly. "It wouldn't do, Minervy; it wouldn't do." Lysander uncoiled +his long braided lash and whipped off two or three spikes of the +withering, perfumed sage. "I talked up to 'im, though, middlin' +impident; but law! it didn't hurt 'im; he's got a hide like a +hypothenuse." + +Mrs. Sproul drew a long, excited breath. + +"I wish mother'd been along, Sandy; she'd 'a' told 'im a thing or two." + +Lysander was discreetly silent. The sage and greasewood ended abruptly, +and a row of leafless walnut-trees stretched their gaunt white branches +above the road. Here and there an almond-tree, lured into premature +bloom by the seductive California winter, stood like a wraith by the +roadside. They could see the cabin now. A square of flaring and fading +light marked the open doorway. The mules quickened their pace, and the +wagon rattled over the stony road. + +"Talk about increasin' the value o' this piece o' property!" the man +broke out contemptuously. "I told 'im it would take a good deal o' chin +to convince the old woman that anything would increase the value o' this +ranch o' hern, and danged if I didn't think she was right. I'd pegged +away at it two years, an' I couldn't." + +"What did he say to that, Sandy?" demanded the woman, with admiring +eagerness. + +"Say? Oh, he said the soil was good. An' I 'lowed it was,--what there +was of it; an' so was the boulders good, for boulders,--the trouble was +in the mixin'. 'Don't talk to me about your "decomposed granite,"' says +I: 'it's the granite what ain't decomposed that bothers me.' But +pshaw!"--and Lysander dropped his voice hopelessly,--"he ain't a-carin'. +I'd about as soon work the boulders as try to work him; he's harder'n +any boulder on the ranch." + +The mules turned into a narrow road, and stopped before the stable, a +shackly, semi-tropical structure, consisting of four sycamore posts and +a brush-covered roof. The lower half of the firelit doorway beyond +suddenly darkened, and there was a swift, scurrying sound among the +bushes that intervened between the house and the shed. A succession of +heads, visible even in the deepening twilight by reason of a uniform +glimmering whiteness, appeared in the barnyard. + +Mrs. Sproul ran over the number with a rapid maternal calculation. + +"Where's the baby, Sheridan?" + +"Grammuzgotim." + +Lysander climbed out of the wagon, and came around to his wife's side. + +"Shan't I h'ist you down, Minervy?" + +She gave him her hand, and stood beside him for an instant, +meditatively, after he had lifted her to the ground. + +"I guess I won't say nothin' to mother till you come in, Sandy. Be as +spry as you can with the chores. Mebbe M'lissy'll milk the cow fer you." + +She turned, and went up the walk toward the house, her mannish attire +and the glimmering white heads that encircled her faintly suggestive of +Jupiter and his attendant moons. + +The sea-breeze had died away, and the wind was blowing in cooler gusts +from the mountain; breezes laden with the aromatic sweetness of the +bay-tree and the heavy scent of the shade-loving bracken wandered from +far up the canon into the cabin and out again, only to find themselves +profaned and sordid with the smell of frying bacon. + +A high, energetic voice was making itself heard even above the sizzle of +the meat and the voice of a crying baby. + +"What under the sun makes ye set up that yell every night jest at +supper-time? Ye ain't a-lackin' anything, as I kin see, exceptin' a +spankin', and I'm too busy to give ye that. Hark! There comes your +mammy, now. Straighten up yer face and show 'er what a good boy you've +been." + +Thus adjured, the baby brought his vocalizing to that abrupt termination +indicative of feeling not so deep-seated as to be entirely beyond +control, and scrambled toward the door on all fours, breaking in upon +the approaching planetary system, a somewhat dimmed and bedraggled +comet. Mrs. Sproul picked him up, and looked around the room +questioningly. + +"What's M'lissy doin', mother?" + +"Dawdlin'," answered the old woman, with a curtness that was eloquent, +lifting the frying-pan from the stove, and shaking it into a more +aggravated sputter. + +"Is she upstairs?" + +"I s'pose so. She gener'ly is, when there's anything doin' down." + +Mrs. Sproul put her hand over the baby's mouth and called upward, +"M'lissy!" + +There was a sound of slow moving above, plainly audible through the +unplastered ceiling, leisurely sliding steps on the stairs, and Melissa +appeared in the doorway. She was still elevated above them by two or +three steps, and leaned against the casement, looking down into the +smoke and disorder of the room with a listless, irresponsible gaze. A +tall, unformed girl, with a braid of red hair hanging across her +shoulder, and ending in a heavy, lustrous curl upon the limp folds of +her blue cotton dress. + +The baby had resumed a subdued but dismal proclamation of the grief from +which his mother's return had afforded him but a temporary relief, and +Mrs. Sproul elevated her thin, anxious voice coaxingly. + +"Lysander's late, M'lissy, and I thought mebbe you'd milk the cow fer +'im." + +"Why, yes, of course," answered the girl, with a soft, good-natured +drawl, descending the remaining steps slowly. "Where's the milk-pail, +mother?" + +"On top o' the chimbly," answered the old woman tartly, pointing with +the frying-pan to a bench in the corner. "If it'd 'a' been a snake, +it'd 'a' bit you." + +The young girl crossed the room, and the satellites surrounding Mrs. +Sproul's chair, with an erratic change of orbit, transferred themselves +to the newcomer. The older sister took a handkerchief from the pocket +of her coat. + +"You'd best tie this around your neck, M'lissy; it's gettin' chill." + +The girl accepted it carelessly, and stood in the doorway tying the bit +of faded silk about her round, white throat. + +"Where's the cow, mother?" + +"She's staked on the 'fileree, t'other side of the barn. If ye don't +find her when ye git there, come an' ask." The old woman drawled the +last three words sarcastically. + +Melissa smiled, showing a row of teeth, not small, but white and +regular. + +"Oh, if she's got away, I know where she's gone." + +"Yes, I'll bet you do. Some folks has a heap of onnecessary learnin'." + +There was no demand upon Melissa's supply of undervalued information. +The cow was mooing reproachfully in a cropped circle of musky alfilaria +behind the shed. The moon had risen, and rested for an instant upon the +edge of Cucamonga, like a silver ball rolling down the mountain-side. +Melissa laid her arms on the spotted heifer's back, and gazed at the +landscape dreamily. Not discontent, nor longing, nor vague, troublesome +aspirations mirrored themselves in the girl's placid face. Gentle, +ease-loving natures, that might show in fair relief against a delicate +background of luxury, become dull and lifeless in contrast with the +coarser tints of poverty. In the parlance of those about her, Melissa +was "dawdlin',"--and those about us are likely to be just, for they +speak from the righteous standpoint of results. + +The moon had floated high above Cucamonga,--so high that every nook and +fastness of the mountain lay revealed in her soft, nocturnal splendor; +even the tops of the mottled sycamores, far below in Sawpit Canon, were +touched with a vague, ghostly light; and still the council that sat in +Lysander Sproul's kitchen was loud-voiced and shrill. The children, +huddled in a corner that they might whisper and giggle beyond the reach +of manual reproof, had fallen asleep, a confused heap of dejected +weariness. The baby's head hung at an alarming angle from his father's +arm, and even the acrid, high-pitched notes of his grandmother's voice +failed to disturb the sleep of bedraggled innocence. + +"So he's a-wantin' to develop the canon, is he? Time wuz when you'd 'a' +thought that canon wuz good enough even fer him, from the lawin' and the +lyin' and the swearin' he done to git his clutches onto it. Well, if he +wants to improve it, why don't he improve it? Nobody's goin' to hender." + +"That's what I told 'im," answered her son-in-law, taking the pipe from +his mouth, and sending a halo of blue smoke about the head of his +slumbering charge. "He said he wanted to improve the water. 'Nobody's +goin' to kick at that,' says I; 'if they do, they're fools. I think the +old lady'll tell you to go ahead. I shouldn't be s'prised, though,' says +I, 'if she'd add that the water o' Sawpit Canon's good enough fer her +without any improvin'.'" + +Mrs. Sproul glanced at her mother triumphantly. + +"I told you Sandy talked up to him, mother. Oh, I do _wish_ you'd 'a' +wore your uniform, Sandy; then you could 'a' rose up before him +proudly, an' told 'im you'd fought the battles of your country before"-- + +"Oh, shucks, Minervy!" interrupted the old woman dejectedly; "what does +Nate Forrester care for anybody's country? What else'd he say, +Lysander?" + +"He said--well"--the man hesitated, and hitched his high shoulders a +trifle uneasily--"he swore he hated to do business with a woman." + +Spots of a deep, coppery red glowed through the tan of the old woman's +cheeks. + +"He said that, did 'e, Lysander Sproul? Then he must 'a' found some +woman hard to cheat. Nate Forrester don't hate to do business with +nobody he can cheat. The next time you see 'im, tell 'im it's mut'chal." + +"I told 'im that," answered Lysander grimly. "I told 'im he didn't hate +to do business with the hull female sect no worse than this partikiler +woman hated to do business with him; but I reckoned you wouldn't bother +'im if he wanted to go to work on the canon,--that'd be onreasonable." + +"He hain't no notion o' doin' that," asserted the old woman +contemptuously. "Ketch him improvin' anybody else's water right. We're +nothin' to him but sticks to boil his pot. What's he up to now?" + +"Well," rejoined Lysander skeptically, "he _said_ he wanted to divide +that upper volunteer barley-patch into ten-acre lots and put it onto the +market. An' he b'lieved he could double the water right by tunnelin'." + +"Why don't he tunnel away, then? Nobody's a-carin'," demanded the old +woman shrilly. + +"That's what I told 'im; and he 'lowed, of course, he wasn't a-goin' to +put money into another feller's water right. An' then he figured away, +showin' me how it'd increase the value o' this piece o' property; an' I +told 'im this property was 'way up now,"--Lysander sneered +audibly,--"consider'ble higher 'n most folks wanted to go; an' then he +went to blowin' about it, braggin' up the ranch, an' tellin' what a big +thing he done when he give it to you"-- + +The old woman broke in upon him fiercely. + +"Did he say that, Lysander?" She turned, and bent upon her son-in-law a +quick, wrathful glance from under her shaggy brows; the muscles of her +weather-beaten face twitched nervously. "I'd 'a' give my right hand to +'a' heerd 'im. I'd like to have Colonel Nate Forrester try to say +anything to me about givin' anybody this ranch." She measured her words +bitingly. "I s'pose when a feller puts his pistol at yer head, and tells +you to hold up yer hands, and goes through yer pockets, if he happens to +overlook a ten-cent piece he _gives_ ye that much, does 'e? That's the +way Colonel Nate Forrester _give_ me this ranch. Loss Anjelus County +hadn't heerd o' him when I settled onto this claim, and it ain't heerd +no good of 'im sence." + +The old woman's harsh, discordant voice rose higher with her wrath. The +baby stirred uneasily in his father's arms. Even Melissa raised her +eyes,--Melissa, who sat on the lowest step of the projecting staircase, +twisting and untwisting the faded blue silk handkerchief in her lap with +a gentle, listless monotony. It was impossible to tell whether ignorance +or indifference characterized the girl, so calm, so inert, so absent was +she, sitting in the half-shadow of the dimly lighted corner, her +lustrous auburn head outlined against the sombre-hued redwood of the +wall behind her. + +There was a little hush in the room after the tempest. + +"No, that's a fact,--that's a fact. Well--then--you see--" continued +Lysander, groping for his forgotten place in the recital. "Oh, yes,--I +got up and told 'im 'Addyoce,' as if I s'posed he was through, and +started off; an' he called me back, an' 'lowed mebbe the old folks +didn't have much loose change lyin' 'round to put into water +improvements; an' I told 'im I didn't know,--I reckoned you could +mortgage the ranch. From the way he talked, he'd make you a handsome +loan on it, and jump at the chance; an' after he'd hummed and hawed a +while, he offered to give you a clear title to Flutterwheel Spring if +you'd deed 'im your int'rest in the rest o' the canon. I told 'im it +wasn't my funeral. I'd tell you what he said, an' you could do as you +pleased." + +The old woman fixed her small, shrewd eyes on her son-in-law. + +"What else 'd he say, Lysander?" + +"Nothin' much. Wanted me to use my influence with the old man!" + +His mother-in-law gave a short, contemptuous sniff. + +"I reckon he'd like to do business with the old man. What'd you tell +'im?" + +"I told 'im I'd be sure to put my influence where it'd do the most good, +an' I 'dvised him to see you. I 'lowed him an' you'd git on peaceable as +a meetin' to 'lect a preacher,"--Lysander rubbed his gnarled hand over +his face, as if to erase a lurking grin,--"but he didn't seem anxious." + +"I reckon not. Is that all he said?" + +"'Bout all. He said it was a damned good trade." + +"Ly_san_der!" Mrs. Sproul sprang up, placing herself between her husband +and the heap of slumbering innocents in the corner. "Ly_san_der +Sproul,--and you a father! This comes of consortin' with the ungodly, +and settin' in the chair of the scorner." + +"Oh, come now, Minervy, I was only quotin'." Lysander's eye twinkled, +but he spoke contritely, with generous consideration for his wife's +condition, which was imminently delicate. + +"Oh, you're hystericky, Minervy. You'd best go to bed," observed her +mother. "You're all tuckered out with yer walk. I guess Lysander's told +all he knows, hain't you, Lysander?" + +"'Bout all,--yes. He followed me out to the wagon, and hinted something +about Poindexter wantin' help if he went to work on the tunnel, and +'lowed I'd find it handier to have a job nearder home, now that the +grape-haulin' was over. But I told 'im there was no trouble about that. +The nearder home I got, the more work I found, gener'ly. Pay was kind o' +short, but then a man must be a trifle stickin' that wouldn't do his own +work fer nothin'." + +Lysander got up and carried the baby into the adjoining room, bending +his lank form from habit rather than from necessity, as he passed +through the doorway. + +Mrs. Sproul, tearfully resentful of the charge of hysterics, +investigated the sleeping children with a view to more permanent +disposal of them for the night, a process which resulted in much +whimpering, and a limp, somnolent sense of injury on the part of the +investigated. + +"I don't take much stock in Nate Forrester's trades," said the +grandmother, elevating her voice so that Lysander could hear; "there's +some deviltry back of 'em, gener'ly; the better they look, the more I'm +afraid of 'em. I don't purtend to know what he's drivin' at now, not +bein' the prince o' darkness, but I reckon he can wait till I do." + + +II. + +The next day Melissa turned her gray eyes with a vague, kindling +interest toward the "volunteer barley-patch." Two or three points of +white gleamed upon it in the afternoon sun. She mused upon them +speculatively for awhile, and then consulted Lysander. + +"I reckon it's the survey stakes, M'lissy," he said kindly. "Forrester's +dividin' it up, as he said. I wouldn't say nothin' 'bout it to yer maw, +'f I was you; it'll only rile her up." + +Melissa looked at the field in a quiet, dispassionate way. + +"The land's his'n, ain't it, Lysander?" she asked. + +"Oh, yes, the land's his'n, an' a good part o' the canon, too,--all but +a little that b'longs to yer maw. But the hull thing used to be hern; +quite a spell back, though." + +Lysander was hauling stones from a knoll near the house, and dumping +them on the edge of the canon,--a leisurely process, carried on by means +of a sled, of unmistakable home manufacture, drawn by one of the +dun-colored mules. Melissa was helping him in a desultory, intermittent +fashion. There was a very friendly understanding between these two +peace-loving members of the family. + +The young girl carried two or three speckled granite boulders and +dropped them into the rude vehicle, and then sat down on the edge of it +meditatively. The dark rim of her hat made a background for her head +with its little billows of richly tinted hair. Exertion had brought a +faint transitory pink to her fair, freckled face. + +"Did Colonel Forrester steal the land and water from mother, Lysander?" +she asked, with the calm, unreasoning candor of youth. + +Lysander straightened his lank form, and then betook himself to a seat +on a neighboring boulder, evidently of the opinion that the judicial +nature of the question before him demanded a sitting posture. + +"I dunno about that, M'lissy," he said, shutting one eye and squinting +across the valley sagaciously. "The _Soo_preme Court of the State of +Californy said he didn't, an' yer maw says he did,--with regards to the +canon, that is. The land,--well, she deeded him the land, but he sort o' +had the snap on her when she done it. You'll find, M'lissy," he added, +with a careful disavowal of prejudice, "that there's as much difference +of 'pinion about stealin' as there is about heaven." + +There was a long, serene, comfortable silence. Even the mule seemed +dreamily retrospective. Bees reveled in the honeyed wealth of the +buckthorn, and chanted their content in drowsy monotony. The upland +lavished its spicy sweetness on the still, yellow air. A gopher peered +out of its freshly made burrow with quick, wary turns of its little +head, and dropped suddenly out of sight as Melissa spoke. + +"How come mother to deed him the land, Sandy?" + +The weight of decision being lifted from Lysander's shoulders, he got up +and resumed his work, evidently esteeming a mild form of activity +admissible in purely narrative discourse. + +"Well, ye see, M'lissy, yer maw home-stidded the land and filed a claim +on the water in the canon eight or ten years back, when neither of 'em +was worth stealin'; an' she 'lowed she done the thing up in good shape, +and had everything solid an' reg'lar, till Colonel Forrester come and +bought the Santa Elena ranch and a lot o' dry land j'inin' it, and +commenced nosin' around the canon, an' hirin' men to overhaul the county +record; an' the fust thing you know, he filed a claim onto the water in +the canon. Then you can guess what kind of a racket there was on hand." + +Lysander paused, and sat down on a pile of stones, shaking his head in +vague, reminiscent dismay. The young girl turned and looked at him, a +sudden gleam of recollection widening her eyes. + +"I b'lieve I remember 'bout that, Sandy," she said, with a little thrill +of animation in her voice. + +"Like enough. You was quite a chunk of a girl then. Minervy an' me was +bee-ranchin' over t' the Verdugo, that spring. The rains was late and +lodged yer maw's barley, so as 't she didn't have half a crop; an' you +know yer paw's kind o'--kind o'--easy,"--having chosen the adjective +after some hesitation, Lysander lingered over it approvingly,--"and +bein' as she was dead set on fightin' the Colonel, she mortgaged the +ranch to raise the money for the lawsuit." + +Lysander stopped again. Memories of that stormy time appeared to crowd +upon him bewilderingly. He shook his head in slow but emphatic denial of +his ability to do them dramatic justice in recital. + +There was another long silence. The noonday air seemed to pulsate, as if +the mountain were sleeping in the sun and breathing regularly. The +weeds, which the weight of the sled had crushed, gave out a fragrance of +honey and tar. A pair of humming-birds darted into the stillness in a +little tempest of shrill-voiced contention, and the mule, aroused from +dejected abstraction by the intruders, shook his tassel-like tail and +yawned humanly. + +Melissa got up and wandered toward the edge of the canon, and Lysander, +aroused from the plentitude of his recollections by her absence, +completed his load and drove the dun-colored mule leisurely after her. + +The stones fell over the precipice, breaking into the quiet of the +depths below with a long, resounding crash that finally rippled off into +silence, and the two sat down on the side of the empty sled and rode +back to the stone-pile. + +"I've always thought," said Lysander, resuming his work and his +narrative with equal deliberation, "that there was a good deal missed by +yer maw bein' took down with inflammatory rheumatiz jest about the time +o' the trial o' that lawsuit. I dunno as it would 'a' made much +difference in the end, but it would 'a' made consider'ble as it went +along, and I think she'd 'a' rested easier if she'd 'a' had her say. Of +course they come up an' took down her testimony in writin'; but it was +shorthand, an' yer maw don't speak shorthand fer common. Well, of +course, the old Colonel got away with the jury, and then yer maw found +out that he'd bought the mortgage; an' about the time it was due he come +up here, as smooth as butter, an' offered to give her this little patch +o' boulders an' let her move the house onto it, an' give her share +'nough in the canon to irrigate it, if she'd deed him the rest o' the +land, an' save him the trouble o' foreclosin'. So she done it. But I +don't think he enj'yed his visit, all the same. She wasn't sparin' o' +her remarks to 'im, an' I think some o' 'em must 'a' hurt his feelin's, +fer he hain't been here sence." Lysander chuckled with reminiscent +relish. + +Melissa had walked around the sled, and stood facing him, with her hands +behind her. Her slight figure in its limp blue cotton drapery had the +scarred mountain-side for a background. + +"I don't see yet as he done anything so awful mean," she protested +leniently. + +"Ner do I, M'lissy," acquiesced her brother-in-law. "But after the hull +thing was signed, sealed, and delivered,"--Lysander rested from his +labors again on the strength of these highly legal expressions,--"after +it was closed up, so to speak, it came to yer maw's ears, in some way, +that there was a mistake in the drawin' of that mortgage, an' this land +was left out of it, an' would 'a' been hern anyway; and somehow that +thing has stuck in her craw all these years, and sort o' soured her." + +Melissa mused on the problem, wide-eyed and grave. The mule seemed to +await her verdict with humble resignation. Lysander sat on the side of +the sled and looked across the valley seaward, to where Catalina was +outlined against the horizon in soft, cloud-like gray. + +"An' it was a mistake? she meant to put it in the mortgage?" queried the +girl. + +"Yes, she meant to, so far as a person can be said to mean anything when +they're a-mortgagin' their homestead; usually they're out o' their +heads. But the law don't take no 'count o' that kind o' craziness. You +can do the foolest things, M'lissy, without the court seein' a crack in +your brain; but if you happen to get mad an' put a bullet through some +good-fer-nothin' loafer, then immedjitly yer insane. That's the law, +M'lissy." + +Melissa received this exposition of her country's code with wondering, +luminous eyes. It had a wild, unreasonable sound which was a sufficient +guarantee of its correctness. The doings of authorities were liable to +be misty by reason of elevation. The fault lay in her limited vision. + +"I s'pose the law's right. An' the law said the canon didn't belong to +mother. I think that ought to 'a' settled it. I don't see any good in it +all,--this talkin' so loud, an' scoldin', an' callin' people names. Do +you, Sandy?" + +"I hain't seen much good come of it," confessed the man reluctantly; +"but it's human to talk,--it's human, M'lissy. Some folks find it +relievin', an' it don't do any harm." + +The young girl did not assent. Deep down in her placid, peace-loving +nature was the obstinate conviction that it did a great deal of harm. +She sat down in the velvety burr-clover, clasping her hands about her +knees. + +"Is Flutterwheel Spring more 'n mother's share o' the canon?" she +inquired. + +"Yes, I think it is. Of course I never measured the water, an' I didn't +admit it when Forrester said so; but I'd 'a' resked sayin' it was, if +anybody else'd asked me." + +"Why wouldn't you say so to him?" + +Lysander laughed, and flipped a pebble toward a gray squirrel, who gave +a little rasping, insulted bark, and whisked into his hole in high +dudgeon. + +"Well, because he ain't a-lackin' for information, an' I hain't got none +to spare, M'lissy." + +The young girl rocked herself gently in the clover. + +"I don't understand it," she said hopelessly. "It looks as if he was +tryin' to be fair, an' mother wouldn't let him. I should think she'd be +glad, even if he did used to be mean,--an' I can't see as he was any +meaner than the law 'lowed him to be. I s'pose the law's right. You went +to the war for the law, didn't you, Sandy?" + +Her companion winced. There was one thing dearer to him than his +neutrality in the family feud. + +"Mebbe I did, M'lissy,--mebbe I did," he answered, with a trifling +accession of dignity: "fer the law as I understood it. The law's all +right, but it ain't every judge nor every jury that knows what it is; +they think they do, but they're liable to be mistaken. Seems to me +they're derned liable to be mistaken!" he added, with some asperity. + +And so the paths that to Melissa's straightforward consciousness seemed +so simple and direct ended, one and all, in hopeless confusion. Even +Lysander had failed her. The foundations of human knowledge were +certainly giving way when Lysander indulged in the mysterious. + +Melissa turned and left him, walking absently up the little path that +led to the canon. She had not noticed a speck crawling like an +overburdened insect along the winding road in the valley. Visible and +invisible by turns, as the sage-brush was sparse or high, and emerging +at last into permanent view where the wild growth came to an end and +Mrs. Withrow's "patch" began, it resolved itself, to Lysander's intent +and curious gaze, into a diminutive gray donkey, bearing a confused +burden of blankets and cooking utensils, and followed by a figure more +dejected, if possible, than the donkey himself. + +"I'll be hanged if the old man hain't showed up!" said Lysander, +dropping down on the sled, and throwing back into the pile two boulders +he held, as if to indicate a general cessation of all logical sequence +and a consequent embargo on industry. + +Evidently the old man was conscious that he "showed up" to poor +advantage, for he began prodding the donkey with a conscientious +absorption that filled that small brute with amazement, and made him +amble from one side of the road to the other, in a vain endeavor to look +around his pack and discover the reason for this unexpected turn in the +administration of affairs. + +Lysander watched their approach with an expression of amused contempt. +The traveler started, in a clumsy attempt at surprise, when he was +opposite his son-in-law, and, giving the donkey a parting whack that +sent him and his hardware onward at a literally rattling pace, turned +from the road, and sidled doggedly through the tarweed toward the +stone-pile. + +Lysander folded his arms, and surveyed him in a cool, sidelong way that +was peculiarly withering. + +"Well," he said, with a caustic downward inflection,--"well, it's you, +is it?" + +The newcomer admitted the gravity of the charge by an appealing droop of +his whole person. + +"Yes," he answered humbly, "it's me,--an' I didn't want to come. I vum I +didn't. But Forrester made me. He 'lowed you wouldn't hev no objections +to my comin'--on business." + +He braced himself on the last two words, and made a feeble effort to +look his son-in-law in the face. What he saw there was not encouraging. +It became audible in a sniff of undisguised contempt. + +"Where'd you see Forrester?" + +"At the winery. Ye see I was a-goin' over to the Duarte, an' I stopped +at the winery"-- + +"What'd you stop at the winery fer?" interrupted the younger man +savagely. + +"Why, I tole ye,--Forrester wanted to see me _on business_. I stopped to +see Forrester, Lysander. What else'd I stop fer? I was in a big hurry, +too, an' I vum I hated to stop, but I hed to. When a man like Forrester +wants to see you"-- + +"How'd you know he wanted to see you?" demanded Sproul. + +The old man gave his questioner a look of maudlin surprise. + +"Why, he tole me so hisself; how else'd I find it out? I was a-settin' +there in the winery on a kaig, an' he come an' tole me he wanted to see +me _on business_. 'Pears to me you're duller 'n common, Lysander." The +speaker began to gather courage from his own ready comprehension of +intricacies which evidently seemed to puzzle his son-in-law. "Why, +sho,--yes, Lysander, don't ye see?" he added encouragingly. + +"Oh, yes, I see,--I see," repeated Lysander sarcastically. "It's as +clear as mud. Now, look here," he added, turning upon his visitor +sternly, "you let Forrester alone. You don't know any more about +business than a hog does about holidays, an' you know it, an' Forrester +knows it. You'll put your foot in it, that's what you'll do." + +The old man looked pensively at one foot and then at the other, as if +speculating on the probable damage from such a catastrophe. + +"I'm sure I dunno," he said plaintively. "Forrester 'peared to think I +ought to come; he tole me why, but I vum I've fergot." He took off his +hat and gazed into it searchingly, as if the idea that had mysteriously +escaped from his brain might have lodged in the crown. + +Lysander fell to work with an energy born of disgust for another's +uselessness. + +"Seein' I'm here, I reckon nobody'll objeck to my payin' my respecks to +the old woman," continued the newcomer, glancing from the crown of his +hat to Lysander's impassive face with covert inquiry. + +"I guess if you c'n stand it, the rest of us'll have to," sneered his +son-in-law. "I've advised you over 'n' over again to steer clear of the +old woman; but there's no law agen a man courtin' his own wife, even if +she don't give 'im much encouragement." + +The old man put on his hat, and shuffled uneasily toward the house. +Lysander stopped his work, and looked after him with a whimsical, +irreverent grimace. + +"You're a nice old customer, you are; an' Forrester's 'nother. I wish to +the livin' gracious the old woman'd send you a-kitin'; but she won't; +she'll bark at you all day, but she won't bite. Women's queer." + +Mrs. Withrow was engaged in what she called "workin' the bread into the +pans." She received her dejected spouse with a snort of disapproval. + +"When the donkey come a-clatterin' up to the door, I knowed there was +another follerin'," she said acridly. "Come in an' set down. I s'pose +you're tired: you mostly are." + +The old man sidled sheepishly into the room and seated himself, and his +wife turned her back upon him and fell to kneading vigorously a mass of +dough that lay puffing and writhing on the floured end of a pine table. + +"I jess come on Forrester's 'count," he began haltingly: "that is, he +didn't want me to come, but I wasn't goin' to do what Forrester said. I +ain't a-carin' fer Forrester. I wasn't goin' to take a trip 'way up here +jess because he wanted me to, so I didn't. I"-- + +"Shut up!" said his wife savagely, without turning her head. + +The visitor obeyed, evidently somewhat relieved to escape even thus +ignominiously from the bog into which his loquacity was leading him. + +The old woman thumped and pounded the mass of dough until the small +tenement shook. Then, after much shaping and some crowding, she +consigned her six rather corpulent loaves to "the pans," and turned on +her nominal lord. + +He had fallen asleep, with his head dropped forward on his breast: his +hat had fallen off, and lay in his lap in a receptive attitude, as if +expecting that the head would presently drop into it. + +Mrs. Withrow gave him a withering glance. + +"Forrester sent you, did 'e? You miser'ble old jelly-fish! You're a nice +match fer Forrester, you are!" + +She pushed her loaves angrily under the stove, to the discomfiture of +the cat, who, being thus rudely disturbed, yawned and stretched, and +curved its back to the limit of spinal flexibility, as it rubbed against +the old woman's knees. + + +III. + +The California winter had blossomed and faded. The blaze of the poppies +on the mesa had given place to the soft, smoky tint of the sage, and +almost insensibly the cloudless summer had come on. + +Work had commenced in Sawpit Canon. Unwillingly, and after much +wrangling, the old woman had yielded to the evident fairness of +Forrester's offer. Even in yielding, however, she had permitted herself +the luxury of defiance, and had refused to appear before a notary in the +valley to sign the deed. If it afforded her any satisfaction when that +official was driven to the door by Colonel Forrester, and entered her +kitchen, carrying his seal, and followed by an admiring and awestricken +group of children, she did not display it by the faintest tremor of her +grim countenance. She had held the end of the penholder gingerly while +she made her "mark," and it was when old Withrow had been banished from +the room, and the notary, in a bland, perfunctory way, had made her +acquainted with the contents of the document, and inquired whether she +signed the same freely and voluntarily, that she deigned to speak. + +"Did Nate Forrester tell you to ask me that?" she demanded, darting a +quick glance through the open door at the Colonel, who sat in his +road-wagon under the trailing pepper-tree, flicking the flies from his +roadster's back. "Ef he did, you tell 'im fer me that the man don't live +that kin make me do what I don't want to. An' ef he thinks the two or +three kaigs of wine he's poured into that poor, miser'ble, sozzlin' old +man o' mine has had anything to do with me signin' this deed, he's a +bigger fool than I took 'im to be, an' that's sayin' a good deal." + +And with this ample though somewhat novel declaration of freedom from +marital compulsion the notary was quite willing to consider the majesty +of the law satisfied, and proceeded to affix his seal on its imposing +star of gilded paper, a process which drew the children about him in a +rapidly narrowing circle from which he was glad to escape. + +"Damn it," he said, as he climbed into the road-wagon and tucked the +robe about his legs,--"damn it, Colonel, I thought you were popular +with the gentler sex; but there certainly seems to be a coolness between +you and the old lady," and the two men drove off, laughing as they went. + +The document they had left behind them, which made Mrs. Withrow the +owner of Flutterwheel Spring, "being the most southerly spring on the +west side of Sawpit Canon," had lain untouched upon the table until +Lysander had taken it in charge, and it was this lofty indifference on +the part of his mother-in-law that had justified her in the frequent +boast that, "whatever she'd done, she hadn't stirred out of her tracks, +nohow." + +So at last the stillness of Sawpit Canon was invaded. Poindexter had +come from San Gabriel Mission, and with him a young engineer from Los +Angeles,--a straight, well-made young fellow, whose blue flannel shirt +was not close enough at the collar to hide the line of white that +betokened his recent escape from civilization. There were half a dozen +workmen besides, and the muffled boom of blasting was heard all day +among the boulders. At night, the touch of a banjo and the sound of +men's voices singing floated down from the camp among the sycamores. + +This camp was a bewildering revelation to Melissa, who carried milk to +the occupants every evening. The Chinese cook, who came to meet her and +emptied her pail, trotting hither and thither, and swearing all the time +with a cheerful confidence in the purity of his pigeon English, was not +to her half so much a foreigner and an alien as was either of the two +men who occupied the engineer's tent. They raised their hats when she +appeared among the mottled trunks of the sycamores. One of them--the +younger, no doubt--sprang to help her when her foot slipped in crossing +the shallow stream, and the generous concern he manifested for her +safety, and which was to him the merest commonplace of politeness, was +to Melissa a glimpse into Paradise. + +"By Jove, she's pretty, Poindexter," he had said, as he came back and +picked up his banjo; "she has eyes like a rabbit." + +And Poindexter had added up two columns of figures and contemplated the +result some time before he asked, "Who?" + +"The milkmaid,--she of the bare feet and blue calico. I have explored +the dim recesses of her sunbonnet, and am prepared to report upon the +contents. The lass is comely." + +But Poindexter had relapsed into mathematics, and grunted an +unintelligible reply. + +Melissa heard none of this. All that she heard was the faint, distant +strum of a banjo, and a gay young voice announcing to the rocks and +fastnesses of the canon that his love was like a red, red rose. His +love! Melissa walked along the path beside the flume in vague +bewilderment. It was his love, then, whose picture she had seen pinned +to the canvas of the tent. The lady was scantily attired, and Melissa +had a confused idea that her heightened color might arise from this +fact. She felt her own cheeks redden at the thought. + +Lysander was at work in the canon some distance below the new tunnel, +"ditching" the water of Flutterwheel Spring to Mrs. Withrow's land. + +"That long-legged tenderfoot thinks you're purty, M'lissy," he +announced, as he smoked his pipe on the doorstep one evening. "He come +down to the ditch this afternoon to see if I could sharpen a pick fer +'em, and he asked if you was my little dotter. I told 'im no, I was your +great-grandpap," and Lysander laughed teasingly. + +Melissa was sitting on a low chair behind him, holding her newly arrived +niece in her arms. She bent over the little puckered face, her own +glowing with girlish delight. The baby stirred, and tightened its +wrinkles threateningly, and Melissa stooped to kiss the little moist +silken head. + +"I--I don't even know his name," she faltered. + +"Nor me, neither," said Lysander. "Poindexter calls him 'Sterling,' but +I don' know if it's his first name or his last. Anyway, he seems to be a +powerful singer." + +The baby broke into a faint but rapidly strengthening wail. + +"Come, now, Pareppy Rosy," said Lysander soothingly, "don't you be +jealous; your old pappy ain't a-goin' back on you as a musicianer. Give +'er to me, M'lissy." + +Melissa laid the little warm, unhappy bundle in its father's arms, and +stood in the path in front of them, looking over the valley, until the +baby's cries were hushed. + +"Was the pick much dull?" she asked, with a faint stirring of womanly +tact. + +"Oh, yes," rejoined the unsuspecting Lysander; "they get 'em awful dull +up there in the rock. I had to bring it down to the forge, an' I guess +I'll git you to take it back to 'em in the morning. I've got through +with the ditch, and I want to go to makin' basins; them orange-trees +west o' the road needs irrigatin'." + +"Yes, they're awful dry; they're curlin' a little," said the girl, with +waning interest. "I thought mebbe Mr. Poindexter done the singin'?" she +added, after a little silence. + +Her brother-in-law hesitated, and then found his way back. + +"No, I guess not; I s'pose he joins in now and then, but it's the +Easterner that leads off." + + "Jee-_ee_-rusa_lem_, my happy home!" + +Lysander threw his head back against the casement of the door, and broke +into the evening stillness with his heavy, unmanageable bass. Mrs. +Sproul came to the door to "take the baby in out of the night air;" the +air indoors being presumably a remnant of midday which had been +carefully preserved for the evening use of infants. + +The next morning Melissa carried the pick to the workmen at the tunnel. + +A fog had drifted in during the night, and was still tangled in the tops +of the sycamores. The soft, humid air was sweet with the earthy scents +of the canon, and the curled fallen leaves of the live oaks along the +flume path were golden-brown with moisture. Beads of mist fringed the +silken fluffs of the clematis, dripping with gentle, rhythmical +insistence from the trees overhead. + +Melissa had set out at the head of a straggling procession, for the +children had clamored to go with her. + +"You can go 'long," she said, with placid good nature, "if you'll set +down when you give out, and not go taggin' on, makin' a fuss." + +In consequence of this provision various major-generals had dropped out +of the ranks, and were stationed at different points in the rear, and +only Melissa and Ulysses S. Grant were left. Even that unconquerable +hero showed signs of weakening, lagging behind to "sick" his yellow cur +into the wild-grape thickets in search of mountain lion and other +equally ambitious game. + +Melissa turned in the narrow path, and waited for him to overtake her. + +"I b'lieve you'd better wait here, 'Lyss," she said gravely. "You can go +up the bank there and pick some tunas. Look out you don't get a cactus +spine in your foot, though, for I hain't got anything to take it out +with exceptin' the pick,"--she smiled in the limp depths of her +sunbonnet,--"an' I won't have that when I come back." + +The dog, returned from the terrors of his unequal chase at the sound of +Melissa's voice, looked and winked and wagged his approval, and the two +comrades darted up the bank with mingled and highly similar yaps of +release. + +Melissa quickened her steps, following the path until she heard the +sound of voices and the ring of tools in the depths below. Then she +turned, and made her way through the underbrush down the bank. + +Suddenly she heard a loud, prolonged whistle and the sound of hurrying +feet. She stood still until the footsteps had died away. Then the sharp +report of an explosion shook the ground beneath her feet, and huge +pieces of rock came crashing through the trees about her. The girl gave +a shrill, terrified scream, and fell cowering upon the ground. Almost +before the echo had ceased, Sterling sprang through the chaparral, his +face white and his lips set. + +"My God, child, are you hurt?" he said, dropping on his knees beside +her. + +"No, I ain't hurt," she faltered, "but I was awful scared. I didn't know +you was blastin' here; I thought it was on up at the tunnel." + +"It was until this morning. We are going to put in a dam." He frowned +upon her, unable to free himself from alarm. "I did not dream of any one +being near. What brought you so far up the canon?" + +"I brung you the pick." + +She stooped toward it, and two or three drops of blood trickled across +her hand. + +"You are hurt, see!" said Sterling anxiously. + +The girl turned back her sleeve and showed a trifling wound. + +"I must 'a' scratched it on the Spanish bayonet when I fell. It's no +difference. Nothin' struck me. Lysander's gettin' ready to irrigate; he +said if you wanted any more tools sharpened, I could fetch 'em down to +the forge." + +The young man showed a preoccupied indifference to her message. +Producing a silk handkerchief, fabulously fine in Melissa's eyes, he +bound up the injured wrist, with evident pride in his own deftness and +skill. + +"Are you quite sure you are able to walk now?" he asked kindly. + +"Why, I ain't hurt a bit; not a speck," reiterated the girl, her eyes +widening. + +Her companion's face relaxed into the suggestion of a smile. He helped +her up the bank, making way for her in the chaparral, and tearing away +the tangled ropes of the wild-grape vines. + +"Tell your father not to send you above the camp again," he said gently, +when she was safe in the path; "one of the men will go down with the +tools." + +Melissa stood beside the flume a moment, irresolute. Her sunbonnet had +fallen back a little, disclosing her rustic prettiness. + +"I'm much obliged to you," she said quaintly, exhausting her knowledge +of the amenities. "I'll send the hankecher back as soon as I can git it +washed and done up." + +The young man smiled graciously, bowed, raised his hat, and waited until +she turned to go; then he bounded down the bank, crashing his way +through the underbrush with the pick. + +None of the men below had heard the cry, and Poindexter refused to lash +himself into any retrospective excitement. + +"Confound the girl!" fumed Sterling, vexed, after the manner of men, +over the smallest waste of emotion; "why must she frighten a fellow limp +by screaming when she wasn't hurt?" + +"Possibly for the same reason that the fellow became limp before he knew +she _was_ hurt," suggested Poindexter; "or she may have thought it an +eminently ladylike thing to do; she looks like a designing creature. If +the killed and wounded are properly cared for, suppose we examine the +result of the blast." + + +IV. + +It was Saturday morning, and Lysander and Melissa were irrigating the +orange-trees. Old Withrow sat by the ditch at the corner of the orchard, +watching them with a feeble display of interest, while two or three of +the children climbed and tumbled over him as if he were some inoffensive +domestic animal. + +The old man had hung about the place longer than was his wont, filled +with a maudlin glee over his own importance as having been in some way +instrumental in the trade with Forrester; and he had followed Lysander +to the orchard this morning with a confused alcoholic idea that he ought +to be present when the water from Flutterwheel Spring was turned on +for the first time. + +"You'll git a big head," he had said to his wife, as he started,--"a +deal bigger head 'n ever. I tole Forrester I'd tell ye it was a good +trade, an' I done what I said I'd do. Forrester knowed what he was doin' +when he got me"-- + +"G'long, you old gump!" his spouse had hurled at him wrathfully, ceasing +from a vigorous wringing of the mop to grasp the handle with a gesture +that was not entirely suggestive of industry. + +The old man had put up his hand and wriggled in between Melissa and +Lysander with a cur-like movement that brought a grim smile to his +son-in-law's face, and made Melissa shrink away from him noticeably. Out +in the orchard, however, he ceased to trouble them, being content to +smoke and doze by the ditch, while the water ran in a gentle, eddying +current from one basin to another, guided now and then by Lysander's +hoe. + +The boom of the blasting could be heard up the canon, fainter as the +afternoon sea-breeze arose, and Melissa, standing barefoot in the warm, +sandy soil, let the water swirl about her ankles as she mended the +basins, and thought of the tall young surveyor who had bound up her +wounded arm. + +"I'm a-goin' to take his hankecher to him to-morruh. Bein' it's Sunday +they won't be blastin'." + +She leaned on her hoe and looked up the canon, where the blue of the +distant mountains showed soft and smoky among the branches of the +sycamores. + +"M'lissy!" Lysander called from the lower end of the row of +orange-trees, "hain't the ditch broke som'ers, or the water got into a +gopher-hole? There ain't no head to speak of." + +The girl turned quickly and looked about her. The water had settled into +the loose soil of the basins, and was no longer running in the furrow. +She walked across, following the main ditch to the edge of the canon, +looking anxiously for the break. The wet sand rippled and glistened in +the bottom of the ditch, but no water was to be seen. Lysander, tired of +waiting, came striding through the tarweed, with his hoe on his +shoulder. + +"I guess it's broke furder on up the canon, Sandy." + +Melissa stepped back, as she spoke, to let him precede her on the narrow +path, and the two walked silently beside the empty ditch. Lysander's +face gathered gloom as they went. + +"It's some deviltry, I'll bet!" he broke out, after a while. "Danged if +I don't begin to think yer maw's right!" + +Melissa did not ask in what her mother was vindicated; she had a dull +prescience of trouble. Things seemed generally to end in that way. She +turned to her poor hopeless little dream again, and kept close behind +Lysander's lank form all the way to Flutterwheel Spring. + +Alas! not to Flutterwheel Spring. Where the spray had whirled in a +fantastic spiral the day before, the moss was still wet, and the ferns +waved in happy unconsciousness of their loss; but the stream that had +flung itself from one narrow shelf of rock to another, in mad haste to +join the rush and roar of Sawpit Canon, had utterly disappeared. + +Lysander turned to his companion, his face ashen-gray under the week-old +stubble of his beard. Neither of them spoke. The calamity lay too near +the source of things for bluster, even if Lysander had been capable of +bluster. In swift dual vision they saw the same cruel picture: the +shriveling orange-trees, the blighted harvest of figs dropping withered +from the trees, the flume dry and useless, the horse-trough empty and +warping in the sun,--all the barren hopelessness of a mountain claim +without water, familiar to both. And through it all Melissa felt rather +than imagined the bitterness of her mother's wrath. Perhaps it was this +latter rather than the real catastrophe that whitened the poor young +face, turned toward Lysander in helpless dismay. + +"Danged if I don't hate the job o' tellin' yer maw," said the man at +last, raking the dry boulders with his hoe aimlessly,--"danged if I +don't. I can't figger out who's done it, but one thing's certain,--it +beats the devil." + +Lysander made the last statement soberly, as if this vindication of his +Satanic majesty were a simple act of justice. Seeming to consider the +phenomenon explained by a free confession of his own ignorance, he +ceased his investigation, and sat down on the edge of the ditch +hopelessly. + +"Don't le' 's tell mother right away, Sandy. Paw's fell asleep, an' +he'll think you turned the water off. Mebbe if we wait it'll begin to +run again." The hopefulness of youth crept into Melissa's quivering +voice. + +Lysander shook his head dismally. + +"I'm willin' enough to hold off, M'lissy, but I hain't got much hope. +There ain't any Moses around here developin' water, that I know of. The +meracle business seems to have got into the wrong hands this time; +danged if it hain't. It gets away with me how Forrester can dry up a +spring at long range that-a-way; there ain't a track in the mud around +here bigger 'n a linnet's,--not a track. It's pure deviltry, you can bet +on that." Lysander fell back on the devil with restful inconsistency, +and fanned himself with his straw hat, curled by much similar usage into +fantastic shapelessness. + +"I don't believe he done it," said Melissa, obstinately charitable. "I +don't believe anybody done it. I believe it just happened. I don't think +folks like them care about folks like us at all, or want to pester us. I +believe they just play on things and sing,"--the color mounted to her +face, until the freckles were drowned in the red flood,--"an' laugh, an' +talk, an' act pullite, an' that's all. I don't believe Colonel Forrester +hates mother like she thinks he does at all. I think he just don't +care!" + +It was the longest speech Melissa had ever made. Her listener seemed a +trifle impressed by it. He rubbed his hair the wrong way, and distorted +his face into a purely muscular grin, as he reflected. + +"I've a mind to go and see Poindexter," Lysander announced presently. +"Poindexter's a smart man, and I b'lieve he's a square man. 'T enny +rate, it can't do any good to keep it a secret. Folks'll find it out +sooner or later. You stay here a minute, M'lissy, and I'll go on up the +canon." + +The young girl seated herself, with her back against a ledge of rocks, +and her bare feet straight out before her. She was used to waiting for +Lysander. Their companionship antedated everything else in Melissa's +memory, and she early became aware that Lysander's "minutes" were +fractions of time with great possibilities in the way of physical +comfort hidden in the depths of their hazy indefiniteness. + +She took off her corded sunbonnet, and crossed her hands upon it in her +lap. The shifting sunlight that fell upon her through the moving leaves +of the sycamores lent a grace to the angularity of her attitude. She +closed her eyes and listened drearily to the sounds of the canon. The +water fretting its way among the boulders below, the desultory gossip of +the moving leaves, the shrill, iterative chirp of a squirrel scolding +insistently from a neighboring cliff,--all these were familiar sounds to +Melissa, and had often brought her relief from the rasping discomfort of +family contention; but to-day she refused to be comforted. She had the +California mountaineer's worship of water, and the gurgle of the stream +among the sycamores filled her with vague rebellion. + +"Why couldn't he 'a' let us alone?" she mused resentfully. "As long as +he had a share o' the spring it didn't show any signs o' dryin' up. +Mother never said nothin' about Flutterwheel to him; it was all his +doin's. But it's no use." She dropped her hands at her sides with a +little gesture of despair. "He never done it, but mother'll always think +so. She does hate him so--so--_pizenous_." + +There was a sound of approaching footsteps, and the girl scrambled to +her feet. It was not Lysander coming at that businesslike pace. +Sterling, hurrying along the path, became conscious of her standing +there, in the rigid awkwardness of unculture, and touched his hat +lightly. + +"Your father says the spring has stopped flowing," he said, pushing +aside the ferns where the rocks were yet slimy and moss-grown. "It is +certainly very strange." + +"Yes, sir," faltered the girl, rubbing the sole of one foot on the +instep of the other. "But Lysander ain't my father; he's my +brother-'n-law; he merried my sister." + +"I beg your pardon," returned the young man absently, running his eye +along the stratum of rock in the ledge above them. "I believe he did +tell me he was not your father." + +No one had ever begged Melissa's pardon before. She meditated a while as +to the propriety of saying, "You're welcome," but gave it up, wondering +a little that polite society had made no provision for such an +emergency, and stood in awkward silence, tying and untying her +bonnet-strings. + +Sterling pursued his investigations in entire forgetfulness of her +presence, until Poindexter appeared in the path. Lysander followed, +managing, by length of stride, to keep up with the engineer's brisk +movements. + +There was much animated talk among the three men, which Melissa made no +attempt to follow. The two engineers smiled leniently at Lysander's +theory concerning Forrester, and fell into a discussion involving terms +which were incomprehensible to both their hearers. All that Melissa did +understand was the frank kindliness of the younger man's manner, and his +evident desire to allay their fears. Colonel Forrester, he assured +Lysander, was the kindest-hearted man in the world,--a piece of +information which seemed to carry more surprise than comfort to its +recipient. He would make it all right as soon as he knew of it, and they +would go down and see him at once; that is, Mr. Poindexter would go, and +he turned to Poindexter, who said, with quite as much kindliness, but a +good deal less fervor, that he was going down to Santa Elena that +evening to see the Colonel, and would mention the matter to him. + +"Don't worry yourself, Sproul," he added guardedly. "If we find out that +the work in the canon has affected the spring, I think it will be all +right." + +"I reckon you won't be back before Monday?" said Lysander, with +interrogative ruefulness. + +"Well, hardly; but that isn't very long." + +"Folks can git purty dry in two days, 'specially temperance folks, and +some of our fam'ly 'll need somethin' to wet their whistles, for +there'll be a good deal o' talkin' done on the ranch between this and +Monday, if the water gives out." Lysander turned his back on Melissa, +who was pressing her bare foot in the soft wet earth at the bottom of +the ditch, and made an eloquent facial addition to his remarks, for the +benefit of the two men. + +Sterling looked mystified, but his companion laughed. + +"Oh, is that it? Well, turn some water from the sand-box into the old +flume and run it down to your new ditch until I get back. I presume the +ownership won't affect the taste. It isn't necessary to say anything +about it; that is, unless you think best." He looked toward Melissa +doubtfully. + +"M'lissy won't blab," returned her brother-in-law laconically. + +The young girl blushed, in the security of her sunbonnet, at the +attention which this delicately turned compliment drew upon her, and +continued to make intaglios of her bare toes in the mud of the ditch. + +It occurred to Sterling for the first time that she might represent a +personality. He went around the other two men, who had fallen into some +talk about the flume, and stood in the path beside her. + +"I have not seen you since you were up the canon," he said kindly. "I +hope your arm did not pain you." + +Melissa shook her head without looking up. + +"It was only a scratch; it didn't even swell up. I never said nothin' +about it," she added in a lower tone. + +The young man entered into the situation with easy social grace, and +lowered his own voice. + +"You didn't want to alarm your mother"-- + +"M'lissy," interrupted Lysander, "I guess I'll go on up to the sand-box +with Mr. Poindexter and turn on some water. I wish you'd go 'long down +to the orchard and look after the basins till I git back. I won't be +gone but a minute." + +Sterling lifted his hat with a winsome smile that seemed to illuminate +the twilight of poor Melissa's wilted sunbonnet, and the three men +started up the canon, the bay that they pushed aside on the path sending +back a sweet, spicy fragrance. + +Melissa shouldered her hoe and proceeded homeward. + +"He does act awful pullite," she mused, "an' he had on a ring: I didn't +know men folks ever wore rings. I wish I hadn't 'a' been barefooted." + +Poor Melissa! Sterling remembered nothing at all about her except a +certain unconsciously graceful turn she had given her brown ankle as she +stood pressing her bare foot in the sand. + + +V. + +On Sunday morning the Withrow establishment wore that air of inactivity +which seems in some households intended to express a mild form of piety. +Mother Withrow, it is true, had not yielded to the general weakness, and +stood at the kitchen table scraping the frying-pan in a resounding way +that might have interfered with the matin hymn of a weaker-lunged man +than Lysander. That stentorian musician seemed rather to enjoy it, as +giving him something definite to overcome vocally, and roared forth his +determination to "gather at the river" from the porch, where he sat with +his splint-bottomed chair tipped back, and his eyes closed in a seeming +ecstasy of religious fervor. + +Old Withrow sat on the step, with his chin in his hands, smoking, and +two dove-colored hounds stood, in mantel-ornament attitude, before him, +looking up with that vaguely expectant air which even a long life of +disappointment fails to erase from the canine countenance. Five or six +half-clad chickens, huddling together in the first strangeness of +maternal desertion, were drinking from an Indian mortar under the +hydrant, and mother Withrow, coming to the door to empty her dish-pan, +stood a moment looking at them. + +"That there hydrant's quit drippin' again," she said gruffly, turning +toward the old man. "Them young ones turned it on to get a drink, and +then turned it clear off. 'Pears to me they drink most o' the time. I'd +think they come by it honestly, if 't wuzn't water. If you ain't too +tired holdin' your head up with both hands, s'posin' you stir your +stumps and turn it on a drop fer them chickens." + +The old man got up with confused, vinous alacrity and started toward the +hydrant. + +"There's no need o' savin' water on this ranch," he blustered feebly, "I +kin tell you that. You'd ought to go up to the spring and see what a +good trade you made. I'm a-goin' myself by 'n' by. I knowed"-- + +He broke off abruptly, as the old woman threw the dish-water dangerously +near him. + +"If water's so plenty, some folks had ought to soak their heads," she +retorted, disappearing through the door. + +The old man regulated the hydrant somewhat unsteadily, and returned to a +seat on the porch. Lysander's musical efforts had subsided to a not very +exultant hum at the first mention of the water supply. Evidently his +reflections on that subject were not conducive to religious enthusiasm. +Old Withrow assumed a confidential attitude and touched his son-in-law +on the knee. + +"She's always so full of her prejudisms," he said, pointing toward the +kitchen door with his thumb. "Now 'f she'd go 'long o' me up to the +spring and see what a tremenjus flow o' water there is, she'd be pleased +as Punch. Now wouldn't she?" + +Lysander brought his chair to the floor with a bang that made the loose +boards of the porch rattle. + +"Come 'round the house, pap," he said anxiously. + +The hounds followed, dejected, but hopeful, as became believers in +special providence. + +When the two men were out of hearing of the kitchen, Lysander took his +father-in-law by the shoulders and shook him, as if by shaking down the +loose contents of his brain he might make room for an idea. + +"You want to shut up about the spring. It's give out,--dried up. The +blastin' and diggin' in the canon done it, I s'pose, an' +Poindexter--that's the engineer--thinks Forrester'll make it all right; +but you don't want to be coaxin' the old woman up there, not if the +court knows herself, and you want to keep your mouth purty ginerally +shut. D' y' understand?" + +The old man's face worked in a feeble effort at comprehension. + +"Give out,--dried up? Oh, come now, Lysander," he faltered. + +"Yes, dried up, and you want to do the same. Don't you think this 'ud be +a purty good time fer you to take a trip off somer's fer your health, +pap?" + +The old man stood a moment wrestling with the hopelessness of the +situation. Besotted as he was, he could still realize the calamity that +had overtaken them: could realize it without the slightest ability to +suggest a remedy. As the direfulness of it all crept over him, something +very like anger gleamed through the blear of his faded eyes. + +"I'm a-goin' to see," he muttered sullenly, turning toward the canon. +"Damn their blastin'! Forrester said it was a good trade. He'd ought to +know." + +A little later, Melissa started on her much dreamed of visit to the +camp. She had on her shoes now, and a comfortable sense of the +propriety of her appearance induced by this fact, and an excess of +starch in the skirt of her pink calico dress, brought a little flush of +expectation to her cheek. She had even looked longingly at her best hat +in its glory of green and purple millinery, and nothing but the absence +of any excuse to offer her mother and sister for such lavish personal +adornment had saved her from this final touch to the pathetic discord of +her attire. + +The silk handkerchief was in her pocket, properly "done up" and wrapped +in a bit of newspaper, and she had rehearsed her part in the dialogue +that a flattered imagination assured her must ensue upon its +presentation until she felt it hardly possible that she could blunder. + +"Somehow you don't feel so bashful when you're all dressed up," she +reflected, contemplating the angular obtrusiveness of her drapery with +the satisfaction that fills the soul of the average _debutante_. "You +feel so kind o' sheepish when you're barefooted and your dress is all +slimpsy." + +Poor Melissa! how could she know that yesterday, in all the limp +forlornness that had made her hang her head when Sterling spoke to her, +she had been a part of the beauty of the canon, while to-day, in all her +pink and rigid glory, she was a garish spot of discordant color in the +landscape? How, indeed, do any of us know that we are not at our worst +in our most triumphant moments? + +The camp was well-nigh deserted, that morning. Poindexter had gone to +Santa Elena to consult his employer, and most of the workmen had +preferred the convivial joys of the Mexican saloon at San Gabriel to the +stillness of the canon. Sterling had written a few letters after +breakfast, and then, taking his rifle from the rack, sauntered along the +little path that led from the camp to the tunnel. The Chinese cook was +dexterously slipping the feathers from a clammy fowl at the door of the +kitchen tent. + +"Hello, John," the young man called cheerfully. "What for you cook +chicken? I go catchee venison for dinner." + +The Chinaman smiled indulgently. Evidently the deer hunts of the past +had not been brilliantly successful. + +"I fly one lit' chicken," he said composedly. "He no velly big. By 'm by +you bling labbit, I fly him too." + +"Rabbit!" laughed back the hunter contemptuously, breaking his rifle and +peering into the breech to see that it was loaded. "I'll not waste a +cartridge on a rabbit, John." + +He lapsed from pigeon English with an ease that betokened a newcomer. +The Chinaman looked after him pensively. + +"Mist' Stellin' heap velly nice man," he said, with gentle +condescension; "all same he _no sabe_ shoot. By 'm by he come home, he +heap likee my little flied looster." + +He held his "little rooster" rigidly erect by its elongated legs, and +patiently picked the pin-feathers from its back. He had finished this +process, and, suspending it by one wing in an attitude of patient +suffering, was singeing it with a blazing paper, when Melissa appeared. + +"What you want, gell?" he demanded autocratically, noticing that she +carried no pail. + +"Where is the young man,--the tall one?" asked Melissa. + +"Young man? Mist' Stellin'? He take 'im gun an' go catchee labbit." + +He waved his torch in the direction of the path, and then dropped it on +the ground and stamped it out with his queerly shod foot. + +Melissa hesitated a moment. She could not risk the precious handkerchief +in the hands of the cook. No one else was visible. Two or three workmen +were sleeping in the large tent under the wild grapevine. She could hear +them breathing in loud nasal discord. It was better to go on up the +canon, she persuaded herself with transparent logic. + +"It's purty hard walkin' when you've got your shoes on," she said, +justifying her course by its difficulties, with the touch of Puritanism +that makes the whole theological world kin, "but if I give it to him +myself I'll know he's got it." + +She glanced in at the door of the engineer's tent, as she passed. The +banjo was there, a point of dazzling light to her eyes, but otherwise +the disorder was far from elegant; resulting chiefly from that reckless +prodigality in head and foot gear which seems to be a phase of masculine +culture. + +"I don't see what they want of so many hats and shoes," commented +Melissa. "I sh'd think they could go barefooted sometimes, to rest their +feet; an' I didn't know folks' heads ever got tired." The thought +recalled her own disappointment in the matter of millinery. She put her +hand up to the broken rim of her hat. "I've a notion to take it off when +I ketch up to him," she soliloquized. "I would if my hair wasn't so +awful red." + +Old Withrow had preceded his daughter, stumbling along the flume path, +muttering sullenly. All his groundless elation had suddenly turned to +equally groundless wrath. Having allied himself in a stupid, servile way +with Forrester, he clung to the alliance and its feeble reflected glory +with all the tenacity of ignorance. There were not many connected links +of cause and effect in the old man's muddled brain, but the value of +water, for irrigating purposes only, had a firm lodgment there, along +with the advantages to be derived from friendliness with the owner of a +winery. There stirred in him a groveling desire to exonerate Forrester. + +"They're blastin', be they? Forrester never said nothin' 'bout blastin'. +He'll give it to 'em when he knows it. He'll blast 'em!" + +He staggered on past the cut-off that led to the camp, keeping well up +on the bank along the path beside the ditch that Lysander had dug from +Flutterwheel Spring. Once there, the sight of the ruin that had befallen +his plans seemed to strike him dumb for a little. The slime still clung +to the rocks, and a faint trickle of water oozed into the pool. He sat +down a moment, mumbling sullen curses, and then staggered to his feet +and wandered aimlessly up the canon. + +Sterling had idled along, crossing and recrossing the restless stream +that appeared to be hurrying away from the quiet of the mountains. He +was really not a very enthusiastic hunter, as the Chinaman had +discovered. He liked the faint, sickening odor of the brakes and the +honey-like scent of the wild immortelles that came in little warm gusts +from the cliffs above far better than the smell of powder. He stopped +where the men had been at work the day before, and looked about with +that impartial criticism that always seems easier when nothing is being +done. + +Some idea must have suggested itself suddenly, for he hurried across to +the opening of the tunnel and went in, leaving his rifle beside the +entrance. When he turned to come out, he heard a sound of muttered +curses, and in another instant he was confronted by the barrel of a gun +in the hands of a man he had never seen,--a man with wandering, +bloodshot eyes, which the change from the half-light of the tunnel's +mouth magnified into those of an angry beast. + +"You've been a-blastin', have ye, an' a-dryin' up other folks's springs? +Damn ye, I'll blast ye!" + +The old man was striving in vain to hold the rifle steadily, and +fumbling with the lock. Sterling did not stop to note that the weapon +was his own, and might easily be thrust aside. He did what most young +men would have done--drew his revolver from his pocket and fired. + +The report echoed up and down the canon. By the time it died away life +had changed for the younger man. Old Withrow had fallen forward, still +clutching the rifle, and was dead. + +Melissa, standing among the sycamores below, had seen it all as a +sudden, paralyzing vision. She stood still a brief, terrified instant, +and then turned and ran down the canon, keeping in the bed of the +stream, and climbing over the boulders. + +She was conscious of nothing but a wild dismay that she had seen it. She +had a vague hope that she might run away from her own knowledge. The +swift, unreasoning notion had lodged itself in her brain that it would +be better if no one knew what had happened. Perhaps no one else need be +told. She avoided the camp, scrambling through the chaparral on the +opposite bank, and, reaching the flume path at last, hurried on +breathlessly. + +Suddenly Melissa stopped. It would not do to approach the house in that +way. She must rest a little and cool her flushed face before any one +should see her. She leaned against the timbers that supported the flume +across the gully, and fanned herself with her hat. The tumult of her +brain had not shaped itself into any plan. She only wished she had not +seen. It was such a dreadful thing to know, to tell. Insensibly she was +preparing herself to dissemble. She was cooling her cheeks, and getting +ready to saunter lazily toward the house and speak indifferently. She +did not realize that after that she could not tell. There would be an +instant in which to decide, and then a dreary stretch of dissimulation. + +At this moment she heard the quick hoofbeats of a galloping horse on +the road that led down the mountain-side. He was going away! Then +certainly she must not speak. They would never find him, and she would +keep the secret forever. She listened until the hoof-beats died away. +The flush faded out of her poor little face, leaving it wan and +hopeless. After all, it was a dreary thing for him to ride away, and +leave her nothing but a dismal secret such as this. A shred of cloud +drifted across the sun, and the canon suddenly became a cold, cheerless +place. She stepped into the path, and came face to face with Lysander. + +"Have yuh seen anything of yer paw, M'lissy? Why, what ails yuh, child? +Y'r as white as buttermilk. Has anything bit yuh?" + +"No," faltered the girl, looking down at her wretched finery; "my shoes +'a' been a-hurtin' my feet. I'm goin' back to the house to take 'em off. +I'm tired." + +"I wish y'd set right down here and take off y'r shoes, M'lissy," said +her brother-in-law anxiously. "We'll have to kind o' watch yer paw. I +had to tell 'im about the spring, an' he struck off right away an' said +he was goin' up there. I reckoned he'd go away an' furgit it, but he +hain't come back yit. I'm afraid he'll git to talkin' when he comes back +to the house, and tell yer maw. It won't do no good, an' there ain't no +use in her workin' herself up red-headed about it,--'t enny rate not +till Poindexter comes back. We must git hold o' yer paw before he gits +to see her, and brace 'im up ag'in. If you'll set here an' call to me if +you see 'im below, I'll go on up an' look fer 'im." + +Melissa had stood quite still, looking down at the uncompromising lines +of her drapery. It was rapidly becoming a pink blur to her gaze. The +ghastliness of what she had undertaken to conceal came over her like a +chill, insweeping fog. She shivered as she spoke, trying in vain to +return Lysander's honest gaze. + +"I'll come back an' set here when I've took off my shoes. You kin go on. +I'll come in a minute." + +Lysander looked into her face an instant as he started. + +"The seam o' yer stockin' 's got over the j'int, M'lissy," he said +kindly; "it's made you sick at yer stummick; y'r as white as taller." + + +VI. + +Old Withrow entered his own house with dignity at last. + +Strangely enough, when the spiritual and presumably the better part of +us is gone, the world stands in awe of what remains. If the bleared eyes +could have opened once more, and the dead man could have known that it +was for fear of him the children were gathered in a whispering, +awestricken group at the window, that respect for him caused the +lowering of voices and baring of heads on the part of the household and +curious neighbors, he would suddenly have found the world he had left a +stranger place than any world to come. + +There was no great pretense of grief. Mother Withrow looked at the dead +face a while, supporting her elbow with one knotted hand, and grasping +her weather-beaten jaw with the other. Perhaps her silence would have +been the strangest feature of it all to him, if he could have known. If +the years hid any romance that had been theirs, and was now hers, the +old woman's face told no more of it than the flinty outside of a boulder +tells of the leaf traced within. + +"He wuzn't no great shakes of a man," she said to Minerva, "but I don't +'low to have him stood up an' shot at by any o' Nate Forrester's crowd +without puttin' the law on the man that done it." + +Lysander's attempt at concealment had melted away in the heat of the +excitement occasioned by the murder. The drying up of the spring had +been no secret in camp. The men who had carried Withrow's body to the +house had talked of it unrebuked. Mother Withrow had heard them with a +tightening of the muscles of her face and an increased angularity in her +tall figure, but she had proudly refrained from the faintest +manifestation of surprise. Nor had she asked any questions of Minerva +or Lysander. This unexpected reserve had been a great relief to the +latter, who found himself not only released from an unpleasant duty, but +saved from any reproaches for concealment. + +The coroner had come up from Los Angeles, and there had been an inquest. +Sterling had not been present, having ridden to Los Angeles to give +himself up; but the men to whom he had told the story when he came to +the camp had testified, and there had been a verdict that deceased came +to his death from a wound made by a revolver in the hands of Frederick +Sterling. + +Some of the jury still hung about the place with cumbrous attempts at +helpfulness, and Minerva moved tearfully to and fro in the kitchen, +wearing her husband's hat with a reckless assumption of masculine rights +and feminine privileges, while she set out a "bite of something" for the +coroner, who must ride back to Los Angeles in hot haste. + +Ulysses had denied himself the unwonted pleasure of listening longer to +the men's whispered talk, to follow the stranger into the kitchen and +watch him eat; his curiosity concerning the habits of that dignitary +being considerably heightened by the official's haste, which pointed +strongly to a rapid succession of murders requiring his personal +attention, and marking him as a man of dark and bloody knowledge. + +The hounds shared the boy's curiosity, and stood beside the table waving +their scroll-like tails, and watching with expectant eagerness the +unerring precision with which the stranger conveyed a knife-load of +"frijoles" from his plate to his mouth. When he had finished his repast, +gulping the last half-glass of buttermilk, and wiping the white beads +from his overhanging mustache with quick horizontal sweeps of his gayly +bordered handkerchief, he leaned back and flipped a bean at Ulysses, +whose expression of intent and curious awe changed instantly to the most +sheepish self-consciousness. The familiarity loosened his tongue, +however, and he asked, with a little explosive gasp,-- + +"Do yuh think they'll ketch 'im?" + +"Ketch who?" + +"The man that shot gran'pap." + +"They've got 'im now." + +"Hev they? How'd they ketch 'im?" + +"He gave himself up." + +"Will they hang 'im?" + +The coroner's eyes twinkled. + +"Don't you think they'd ought to?" + +"You bet!" Ulysses wagged his head with bloodthirsty vehemence. + +The great man got up, laughing, and went toward the door, rubbing the +boy's hair the wrong way as he passed him. The hounds followed +languidly, and Ulysses darted up the creaking staircase, and tumbled +into the little attic room where Melissa sat gazing drearily out of the +window. + +"They've got 'im!'" he said breathlessly. "They're a-go'n' to hang 'im!" + +The girl got up and backed toward the wall, gasping and dizzy. + +"Who said so?" she faltered. + +"The man downstairs,--the one that came from Loss Anglus." + +Melissa put the palms of her outstretched hands against the wall behind +her to steady herself. In the half-light she seemed crowding away from +some terror that confronted her. + +"I don't believe it. They won't do anything to him right away; it +wouldn't be fair. They don't know what paw done. I"-- + +Her voice broke. She looked about piteously, biting her lip and trying +to remember what she had said. + +Ulysses was not a critical listener. He had enjoyed his little +sensation, and was ready for another. From the talk downstairs he knew +that Sterling had acknowledged the killing to the men at the camp. His +excitement made him indifferent as to the source of Melissa's +information. + +"I'm go'n' to the hangin'," he said, doggedly boastful. + +Melissa looked at him vacantly. + +"How'd they find out who done it?" she asked, dropping her hands and +turning toward the window. + +"He told it hisself,--blabbed it right out to the men at the camp; then +he went on down to Loss Anglus, big as life, an' blowed about it there. +He's cheeky." + +Melissa turned on him with a flash of contempt. + +"You said they ketched him." + +The boy felt his importance as the bearer of sensational tidings ebbing +away. + +"I don't care," he replied sullenly. "They'll hang 'im, anyway: the +cor'ner said so." + +He clutched his throat with his thumbs and forefingers, thrusting out +his tongue and rolling his eyes in blood-curdling pantomime. + +His companion turned away drearily. The boy's first words had called up +a vaguely outlined picture of flight, pursuit, and capture, possibly +violence. This faded away, leaving her brain numb under its burden of +uncertainty and deceit. She had an aching consciousness of her own +ignorance. Others knew what might happen to him, but she must not even +ask. She shrank in terror from what her curiosity might betray. She must +stand idly by and wait. Perhaps Lysander would know; if she could ask +any one, she could ask Lysander. There had sprung up in her mind a +shadowy, half-formed doubt concerning the wisdom of her silence. He had +told it himself, Ulysses had said; and this had chilled the little glow +at her heart that came from a sense of their common secret. If she could +only see him and ask what he would have her do; but that was +impossible. Perhaps, if he knew she had seen it, he might say she must +tell, even if--even if-- She gave a little moan, and leaned her forehead +against the sash. Below she could hear the subdued voices of the men, +and the creaking of the kitchen floor as Minerva walked to and fro, +putting away the remnants of the coroner's repast. Already the children +were beginning to recover from their awestricken silence, and Melissa +could see them darting in and out among the fig-trees, firing pantomimic +revolvers at each other with loud vocal explosions. + +The gap that the old man's death had made in the household was very +slight indeed; not half the calamity that the drying up of the spring +had been. Melissa acknowledged this to herself with the candor peculiar +to the very wise and the very ignorant, who alone seem daring enough to +look at things as they are. + +"They hadn't ought to do anything to 'im; it ain't fair," she said to +herself stoutly; "an' he just stood up an' told on hisself because he +knowed he hadn't done anything bad. I sh'd think they'd be ashamed of +themselves to do anything to 'im after that." + +"M'lissy!" Mrs. Sproul called from the foot of the stairs, her voice +dying away in a prolonged sniffle. "I wish 't you'd come down and help +Lysander hook up the team. He's got to go down t' the Mission, and it'll +be 'way into the night before he gets back." + +The girl stood still a moment, biting her lip, and then hurried across +the floor and down the staircase as if pursued. Minerva had left the +kitchen, and there was no one to notice her unusual haste. Out at the +barn, Lysander, almost disabled by the accession of a stiff white shirt +and collar, was perspiring heavily in his haste to harness the mules. + +"Minervy's got 'er heart set on havin' the Odd Fellers conduct the +funer'l," he said apologetically. "Strikes me kind o' onnecessary, but +'t won't do no harm, I s'pose. She says yer paw was an Odd Feller 'way +back, but he ain't kep' it up. I dunno if they'll bury 'im or not." + +The girl listened to him absently, straightening the mule's long ear +which was caught in the headstall, and fastening the buckles of the +harness. Her face was hidden by her drooping sunbonnet, and Lysander +could not see its pinched, quivering whiteness. They led the mules out +of the stable and backed them toward the wagon standing under a live +oak. Melissa bent over to fasten the tugs, and asked in a voice steadied +to lifeless monotony,-- + +"Do you think they'll do anything to him for it, Lysander?" + +"I dunno, M'lissy," said the man. "He told the men at the camp it was +self-defense, and mebbe he can prove it; but bein' no witnesses, they +may lock 'im up fer a year or two, just to give 'im time to cool off. +It'll be good fer 'im. He oughtn't to be so previous with his firearms." + +"But paw was--they don't know--mebbe"--panted the girl brokenly. + +"Yes, yes, M'lissy, I don't doubt yer paw was aggravatin'; but we don't +know, and we'd better not take sides. The young feller ain't nothin' to +us, an' yer paw was--well, he was yer _paw_, we've got to remember +that." + +Lysander put his foot on the hub and mounted to the high seat, +gathering up the reins and putting on the brake. The mules started +forward, and then held back in a protesting way, and the wagon went +creaking and scraping through the sand down the mountain road. + + +VII. + +In the days that passed wearisomely enough before the trial, Melissa +heard much that did not tend to soothe her harassed little soul. +Lysander, having taken refuge behind the assertion that it "wasn't +becomin' fer the fam'ly to take sides," bore his mother-in-law's +stinging sarcasms in virtuous silence. + +"Seems to me it depends on which side you take," sneered the old woman. +"I don't see anything so very impullite in gettin' mad when yer pap's +shot down like a dog." + +Lysander braced himself judicially. + +"We don't none of us know nothin' about it," he contended. "If I'd 'a' +been there and 'a' seen the scrimmage, I'd 'a' knowed what to think. As +'tis, I dunno what to think, and there's no law that kin make you think +when you don't hev no fax to base your thinkun' on." + +"Some folks lacks other things besides fax to base their thinkun' on," +the old woman jerked out sententiously. + +Lysander pressed the tobacco into his cob pipe, and scratched a match on +the sole of his boot. + +"I think they've been middlin' fair," he said, between puffs, "fixin' up +that water business. It's my opinion the young feller's at the bottom of +it,--they say his father's well off; 't enny rate, it's _fixed_, an' +you're better off 'n you wuz,--exceptin', uv course, your affliction, +an' that can't be helped." The man composed his voice very much as he +would have straightened a corpse in which he had no personal interest. +"I'm in fer shuttin' up." + +"They don't seem to want you to shut up," fretted his mother-in-law. +"They've s'peenied _you_." + +"They're welcome to all I know; 'tain't much, an' 't won't help nor +hender, as I c'n see, but such as it is, they kin hev it an' welcome." + +Lysander stood in the doorway, with his hat on the back of his head. He +tilted it over his eyes, as he made this avowal, and sauntered toward +the stable, with his head thrown back, peering from under the brim, as +if its inconvenient position were a matter entirely beyond his control. + +Melissa was washing dishes at a table in the corner of the kitchen. She +hurried a little, trembling in her eagerness to speak to Lysander alone. +She carried the dishpan to the kitchen door to empty it, and the +chickens came scuttling with half-flying strides from the shade of the +geraniums where they were dusting themselves, and then fled with a +chorus of dismayed squawks as the dish-water splashed among them. The +girl hung the pan on a nail outside, and flung her apron over her head. +She could see Lysander's tilted hat moving among the low blue gums +beside the shed. She drew the folds of her apron forward to shade her +face, and went down the path with a studied unconcern that sat as ill +upon her as haste. Lysander was mending the cultivator; he looked up, +but not as high as her face. + +"'Llo, M'lissy," he said, as kindly as was compatible with a rusty bit +of wire between his teeth. + +The girl leaned against the shaded side of a stack of baled barley hay. + +"Lysander," she began quaveringly, "Lysander, if you'd seen paw shot, +an' knowed all about it, could they make you tell--would you think you'd +ought to tell?" She hurried her questions as they had been crowding in +her sore conscience. "I mean, of course, if you'd seen it, Lysander." + +Her brother-in-law straightened himself, and set his hat on the back of +his head without speaking. Melissa could feel him looking at her +curiously. + +"Of course, that's all I mean, Lysander,--just if you'd seen it; would +you tell?" she faltered. + +"M'lissy," said the man impressively, "if I'd seen my own paw killed, +an' nobody asked me to tell, I'd keep my mouth most piously shut; that's +what I'd do." + +"But if he was mad, Sandy, an' tried to kill somebody else, and, +oh,"--her voice broke into a piteous wail,--"if they wuz thinkun' o' +hangin' 'im!" + +"They ain't a-goin' to hang nobody, M'lissy," said Lysander +confidently,--"hangin' has gone out o' fashion. And I don't think it's +becomin' fer the fam'ly to interfere, especially the women folks; +besides, we don't none of us know nothin' about it, you see. Don't you +fret about things you don't know nothin' about. The law'll have to take +its course, M'lissy. That young feller's goin' to git off +reasonable,--very reasonable, indeed, considerin'." + +Melissa rubbed her feet in the loose straw, restless and uncomforted. + +"When's the trial, Lysander?" she asked, after a little pause, during +which her companion resumed his encounter with the rusty wire he was +straightening. + +"The trial, M'lissy, is set for tuhmorruh," Lysander replied, a trifle +oracularly. "I'm a-goin' down because they've sent fer me; if they +hadn't 'a' sent, I wouldn't 'a' gone. I don't know nothin' exceptin' +that yer paw had one of his spells,"--inebriety was always thus +decorously cloaked in Lysander's domestic conversation,--"an' went off +up the canon that mornin' r'arin' mad about the spring. Of course they +don't know that's all I know,--if they knowed it, perhaps they wouldn't +want me; but if they hadn't sent fer me, you can bet I'd stick at home +closer'n a scale-bug to an orange-tree, Melissy, perticular if I was a +young girl, an' didn't know nothin' whatever about the hull fracas. An' +young girls ain't expected to know about such things; it ain't proper +fer 'em, especially when they're members of the fam'ly." + +This piece of highly involved wisdom quieted Melissa very much as a +handkerchief stuffed into a sufferer's mouth allays his pain. She went +about the rest of the day silent and distressed. + +At daybreak the next morning, Lysander harnessed the dun-colored mules +and drove to Los Angeles. + +The sun rose higher, and the warm dullness of a California summer day +settled down upon the little mountain ranch. Heat seemed to rise in +shimmering waves from the yellow barley stubble. The orange-trees cast +dense shadows with no coolness in them, and along the edge of the +orchard the broad leaves of the squash-vines hung in limp dejection upon +their stalks. The heated air was full of pungent odors: tar and honey +and spice from the sage and eucalyptus, with now and then a warmer puff +of some new wild fragrance from far up the mountain-side. + +"We're a-goin' to have three hot days," said Mrs. Sproul, looking +anxiously over the valley from the shelter of her husband's hat. +"Sandy'll swelter, bein' dressed up so. I do hope they won't keep him +long. He don't know nothin' about it, noway. Seems to me they might 'a' +believed him, when he said so." + +Mother Withrow had fallen into a silence full of the eloquence of +offended dignity, when Lysander disappeared. Like all tyrannical souls, +she was beginning to feel a bitterness worse than that of +opposition,--the bitterness of deceit. She knew that Lysander had +deceived her, and the knowledge was bearing its fruit of humiliation and +chagrin. The evident liberality of Forrester's course in deeding her a +share of the canon, greater, it was said, than the loss occasioned by +the drying up of Flutterwheel Spring, had struck at the root of hatreds +and preconceptions that were far more vital to her than the mere +proprietorship of the water right. She felt hampered and defrauded by +the circumstances that forbade her to turn and fling the gift back in +his face. To this grim, gray-haired tyrant, dying of thirst seemed sweet +compared with the daily bitterness of hearing her enemy praised for his +generosity. She sat in the doorway fanning herself with her apron, and +made no reply to her daughter's anxious observation. + +"I calc'lated to rub out a few things this mornin'," continued Mrs. +Sproul, "but somehow I don't feel like settlin' down to washin' or +anythin'; an' the baby's cross, bein' all broke out with the heat. I +wonder what's become of M'lissy." + +"She's up in the oak-tree out at the barn," called William T. Sherman, +who with other fraternal generals was holding a council of war over a +gopher caught in a trap. "Letterlone; she's as cross as Sam Patch." + +"M'lissy takes her paw's death harder 'n I calc'lated she'd do," +commented Minerva, virtuously conventional; "she's a good deal upset." + +The old woman sniffed audibly. + +"I reckon you'll all live through it," she said frostily. + +Melissa, swinging her bare feet from a branch of the dense live oak in +the barnyard, had watched Lysander's departure with wistful eagerness, +entirely unaware that he had divined her secret, and was mannishly +averse to having the "women folks" of his family mixed up in a murder +trial. Now that he was really gone, and she was left to the dreariness +of her own reflections, she grew wan and white with misery. + +"I had ought to 'a' told it," she moaned. "If they don't hang 'im, they +may put 'im in jail, and that's awful." She thought of him, so straight +and lithe and gay, grown pale and wretched; manacled, according to +Ulysses's graphic description, with iron chains so heavy that he could +not rise; kept feebly alive on bread and water, and presided over by a +jailer whose ingenious cruelty knew no limit but the liveliness of the +boy's fiendish imagination. + +"A year or two," Lysander had said, as if it were a trifle. She looked +back a year, and tried to measure the time, losing herself in the hazy +monotony of her past, and conscious only of the remoteness of certain +events that served as landmarks in her simple experience,--events not +yet two years distant. + +"Orange-pickun' before last ain't nigh two years ago," she mused, "an' +'t ain't a year yet sence Lysander hauled grapes from the Mission to the +winery; an' the year before that he was over to Verdugo at the +bee-ranch, an' come home fer the grape-haulin' at Santa Elena. That's +when Hooker was born; he'll be two years old this fall; it's ever so +long ago. He couldn't stand bein' in jail that long; some folks could, +but he couldn't. He sings, and laughs out loud, and goes tearin' around +so lively. It 'ud kill 'im." + +She slipped down from the tree, and started toward the house. The path +was hot to her bare feet, and the wind came in heated gusts from the +mountains. The young turkeys panted, with uplifted wings, in the shade +of the dusty geraniums, whose scarlet blossoms were glowing in fierce +tropical enjoyment of the glaring sun. The hounds went languidly, with +lolling tongues, from one shaded spot to another, blinking their +comments on the weather at their human companions, and snapping in a +half-hearted way at unwary flies. + +Mrs. Sproul and her mother were still seated on the little porch when +Melissa appeared. + +"Why don't you come in out of the heat, child?" called her sister, as +reproachfully as if Melissa were going in the opposite direction. "We +hain't had such a desert wind for more 'n a year. I keep thinkin' about +Lysander. I've heern of people bein' took down with the heat, and havin' +trouble ever afterward with their brains." + +"Lysander ain't a-goin' to have any trouble with his brains," said her +mother significantly. + +Mrs. Sproul turned a highly insulted gaze upon the old woman's impassive +face, and tilted her husband's hat defiantly above her diminutive, +freckled countenance. + +"Lysander kin have as much trouble with his brains as anybody," she +said, with bantam-like dignity, straightening her limp calico back, and +tightening her grasp on the baby in her arms. + +The old woman elevated her shaggy brows, and made a half-mocking sound +in imitation of the spitting of an angry kitten. + +Mrs. Sproul's pale blue eyes filled with indignant tears, and she turned +toward Melissa, who looked up from the step, a gleam of sisterly +sympathy lighting up the wan dejection of her young face. + +"I wouldn't fret, Minervy," she said kindly; "Lysander don't mind the +heat. People never get sunstruck here; it's only back East. I don't +think it's so very warm, nohow." + +"Oh, it's hot enough," sniffled Mrs. Sproul, relaxing her spine under +Melissa's sympathy; "but it ain't altogether the heat. I don't like +Lysander bein' mixed up with murderers and dangerous characters; not but +what he's able to pertect himself, havin' been through the war, but it +seems as if the harmlessest person wuzn't safe when folks go 'round +shootin' right an' left without no provocation whatever. I think we'll +all be safer when that young feller's locked up in San Quentin,--which +they'll do with him, Lysander thinks." + +Mrs. Sproul drew a corner of her apron tight over her finger, and +carefully wiped a speck from the corner of the baby's eye, gazing +intently into the serene vacuity of its sleeping countenance as she +spoke. + +Melissa caught her breath, and turned and gazed fixedly through the +shimmering haze of the valley toward Los Angeles. The girl herself did +not know the resolution that was shaping itself from all the tangled +facts and fancies of her brain. Perhaps, if she had been held to strict +account, she would have said it was an impulse, "a sudden notion" in her +parlance, that prompted her to arise the next morning, before the +faintest thrill of dawn, and turn her steps toward the town in the +valley. It was not a hopeful journey, and she could not analyze the +motive that lashed her into making it; nevertheless she felt relieved +when the greasewood shut the cabin, with its trailing pepper-trees and +dusty figs and geraniums, from her sight, and she was alone on the +mountain road. It was not a pleasure to go, but it was an undeniable +hardship to stay. There had been no fog in the night, and from the warm +stillness of the early morning air the girl knew that the heat had not +abated. She was quite unmindful of the landscape, gray and brown and +black in the waning light of the misshapen and belated moon, and she was +far from knowing that the man she was making this journey to save would +have thought her a fitting central figure in the soft blur of the +Millet-like etching of which she formed a part. + +She threw back her sunbonnet and trudged along, carrying her shoes tied +together by their leathern strings and hung across her arm,--an +impediment to progress, but a concession to urban prejudices which she +did not dream of disregarding. She meant to put them on in the seclusion +of the Arroyo Seco, where she could bathe her dusty feet and rest +awhile; but remembering the heat of yesterday, she wished to make the +most of the early morning, deadly still and far from refreshing though +it was. The sea-breeze would come up later, she hoped, not without +misgivings; and the grapes were beginning to turn in the vineyards along +the road; she would have something to eat with the bit of corn-bread in +her pocket. Altogether she was not greatly concerned about herself or +the difficulties of her journey, so absorbed was she in the vague +uncertainty that lay at its end. + +The sun rose hot and pitiless, and the dust and stones of the road grew +more and more scorching to her feet. The leaves of the wild gourd, lying +in great star-shaped patches on the ground, drooped on their stems, and +the spikes of dusty white sage by the road hung limp at the ends, and +filled the air with their wilted fragrance. The sea-breeze did not come +up, and in its stead gusts of hot wind from the north swept through the +valley as if from the door of a furnace. People talked of it afterward +as "the hot spell of 18--," but in Melissa's calendar it was "the day I +walked to Loss Anjelus,"--a day so fraught with hopes and fears, so full +of dim uncertainties and dread and longing, that the heat seemed only a +part of the generally abnormal conditions in which she found herself. + +It was afternoon before she reached the end of her journey, entering the +town between rows of low, soft-tinted adobes, on the steps of which +white-shirted men and dusky, lowbrowed women and children ate melons and +laughed lazily at their neighbors, showing their gleaming teeth. She +knew where the courthouse stood, its unblushing ugliness protected by +the rusty Fremont cannon, and made her way wearily toward it through the +more modern and busier streets. + +The men who sat in front of the stores in various degrees of undress, +slapping each other resoundingly on their thinly clad backs, and +discussing the weather with passers-by in loud, jocular tones, were, to +Melissa's sober country sense, a light-minded, flippant crowd, to whom +life could have no serious aspect. She looked at them indifferently, as +they sat and joked, or ran in and out of open doors where there was a +constant fizz as of something perpetually boiling over, and made her way +among them, quite unmindful of her dusty shoes and wilted sunbonnet, and +yet vaguely conscious that at another time she might have cared. + +At the door of the courthouse, two of this same loosely clad, noisy, +perspiring species were slapping their thighs and choking in hilarious +appreciation of something which a third was reading from an open paper. +The reader made way for Melissa, backing and reading at the same time, +and the sound of their strangely incongruous mirth followed her up the +narrow, unswept, paper-strewn staircase into the stifling heat of the +second floor. She stopped there an instant, leaning against the railing, +uncertain what to do. + +One of a pair of double doors opened, and a young man, swinging an +official-looking document, crossed the hall as if he might be walking in +his sleep, and went into a room beyond; kicking the door open, catching +it with his foot, and kicking it to behind him with a familiarity that +betokened long acquaintance, and inspired Melissa with confidence in his +probable knowledge of the intricate workings of justice. She stood still +a moment, clutching the limp folds of her skirt, until the young man +returned; then she took a step forward. + +"I've come to tell what I know about the shootin'. I saw it," she +faltered. + +The somnambulistic young man shut one eye, and inclined his ear toward +her without turning his head. + +"Shooting? What shooting?" + +"Up in Sawpit Canon--Mr. Sterling done it--but I saw it--nobody knows +it, though." The words came in short, palpitating sentences that died +away helplessly. + +Her listener hesitated for an instant, scratching the blonde plush of +his cropped scalp with his lead-pencil. Then he stepped forward and +kicked one of the double doors open, holding it with his automatic foot. + +"Bawb! oh, _Bawb!_" he called; "'m yer." + +A short fat man, with an unbuttoned vest and a general air of excessive +perspiration, waddled past the bailiff and confronted Melissa. He smiled +when he saw her, displaying an upper row of teeth heavily trimmed with +gold, a style of personal adornment which impressed Melissa anew with +the vagaries of masculine city taste. + +"Witness in the Withrow murder case, pros'cuting 'torney," said the +bailiff over his shoulder, by way of introduction, as he disappeared +through the door. + +Melissa looked at the newcomer, trembling and dumb. + +"Come in here, my girl," he said, steaming ahead of her through a door +in front of them; "come right in here. Is it pretty hot up your way?" + +"Yes, sir," she quavered, not taking the chair he cleared for her. "I +come down to tell about the shootin': I'd ought to 'a' told before, but +I was scared. Mr. Sterling done it, but paw was mad; he picked up Mr. +Sterling's gun and tried to kill 'im,--I saw it all. I was hid in the +sycamores. You hadn't ought to hang 'im or do anything to 'im: he +couldn't help it." + +The prosecuting attorney smiled his broad, gilt-edged, comfortable +smile, and laid his pudgy hand reassuringly on Melissa's shoulder. + +"It's all right, my little girl," he said. "We're not going to hang Mr. +Sterling this time; he was discharged this afternoon; but he'll be +obliged to you, all the same. He's over at the hotel taking a nap. You +just run along home, and the next time don't be afraid to tell what you +know." + +The girl turned away silently, and went down the stairs and out into the +street. She stood still a moment on the hot pavement, looking in the +direction of the hotel in which the man for whom she had made her +fruitless journey was sleeping. Then she set her face patiently toward +home. The reflection from the pavement seemed to blind her; she felt +suddenly faint and tired, and it was with a great throb of relief that +she heard a familiar voice at her elbow, and turned with a little +tearless sob to Lysander. + + +VIII. + +The Worthingtons' private parlor in the Rideau House was hot and close, +although a fog had drifted in at nightfall and cooled the outside air. +Two of its occupants, however, were totally unmindful of the heat and +the mingled odors of upholstery, gas, and varnish that prevailed within +its highly decorated walls. The third, a compact, elderly, +prosperous-looking gentleman, whose face wore a slight cloud of _ennui_, +stood by the open window gazing out, not so much from a desire to see +what was going on outside as from a good-natured unwillingness to see +what was taking place within. + +Mr. Frederick Sterling, a shade paler and several shades graver than of +old, was looking at the elderly gentleman's daughter in an unmistakable +way; and the daughter herself, a fair creature, with the fairness of +youth and health and plenty, was returning his gaze with one that was +equally unmistakable. + +"Do you mean to tell me, Frederick, that the poor thing _walked_ all +that distance in that intolerable heat?" + +The young man nodded dismally. + +"That's what they say, Annette. It makes one feel like a beast." + +"I don't see why you need say that, Frederick. I'm sure they ought to +have done something, after the awful danger you were in." The young +woman swept toward him, with one arm outstretched, and then receded, and +let her hand fall on the back of a chair, as her father yawned audibly. + +"Of course there was danger, Annette; but that doesn't remove the fact +that I was a hot-headed idiot." + +"You mustn't talk so. It is not polite to me. I am not going to marry an +idiot." + +"But you've promised." + +The young people laughed into each other's eyes. + +"Frederick," said the young girl, after a little silence, during which +they drifted into the rigid plush embrace of a sofa, "I'm going up to +see that girl and thank her." + +The young man leaned forward and caught her wrists. + +"You--angel!" + +"Yes, I'm going to-morrow. Of course you can't go." + +"Oh, good Lord, no," groaned her lover. + +"But papa can. There will be plenty of time; we don't leave until +evening. And in spite of what her father did, I feel kindly toward the +girl. There must be some good in her; she seemed to want to do you +justice. How does she look, Frederick?" + +The soft-voiced inquisitor drew her wrists from the young fellow's +grasp, and flattened his palms between hers by way of an anaesthetic. + +"Did you ever see her?" + +"Oh, yes, once or twice. A lank, forlorn, little red-headed +thing,--rather pretty. Oh, my God, Annette!" + +The girl raised the tips of his imprisoned fingers to her lips. + +"Couldn't you send her something, Frederick, some little keepsake, +something she would like, if she would like anything that wasn't too +dreadful?" + +The young fellow's face brightened. + +"Annette, you _are_ an angel." + +"No, I'm not; there are no brunette angels. I am a very practical young +woman, and I'm going with you to buy something for that poor girl; men +don't know how to buy things." She dropped her lover's hands, and went +out of the room, returning with her hat and gloves, and, going to her +father's side, she said: "Papa, Frederick and I are going out for +awhile. He wants to get a little present for a poor young girl, the +daughter of that awful wretch who--that--you know. It seems she saw it +all, and came down to say that Frederick was not to blame. Of course it +was unnecessary, for the judge and every one saw at once that he did +perfectly right; but it _was_ kind of her, and it was a _very_ hot day. +Do you mind staying here alone?--or you can go with us, if you like." + +"No, thank you; I don't mind, and I don't like," said the elderly +gentleman dryly. + +"And you'll not be lonely?" + +"No, I think not; I've been getting acquainted with myself this trip, +and I find I'm a very interesting though somewhat unappreciated old +party." + +The young girl put down her laughing face, and her father swept a kiss +from it with his gray mustache. Then the two young creatures went out +into the lighted streets, laughing and clinging to each other in the +sweet, selfish happiness that is the preface to so large a part of the +world's misery. + +They came back presently with their purchase, a somewhat obtrusively +ornate piece of jewelry, which Annette pronounced semi-barbarous; +being, she said, a compromise between her own severely classical taste +and that of Sterling, which latter, she assured her father, was entirely +savage. + +She fastened the trinket at her throat, where it acquired a sudden and +hitherto unsuspected elegance in the eyes of her lover, and then +unclasped it, and held it at arm's-length in front of her before she +laid it in its pink cotton receptacle. + +"I do hope she will be pleased, Frederick," she said, with a soft, +contented little sigh. + +And the young man set his teeth, and smiled at her from the depths of a +self-abasement that made her content a marvel to him. + +Annette went up to the mountains with her father the next day, stopping +the carriage under the pepper-trees in front of the Withrow cabin, and +stepping out a little bewildered by the meanness and poverty and squalor +of it all. + +The children came out and stood in a jagged, uneven row before her, and +the hounds sniffed at her skirts and walked around her curiously. Mrs. +Sproul appeared in the doorway with the baby, shielding its bald head +from the sun with her husband's hat, and Lysander emerged from between +two dark green rows of orange-trees across the way, his hoe on his +shoulder. + +"I want to see your daughter, the young girl,--the one that walked to +Los Angeles the other day," she said, looking at the woman. + +"M'lissy?" queried Mrs. Sproul anxiously. "Lysander, do you know if +M'lissy's about?" + +Her husband nodded backward. + +"She's over in the orchard, lookin' after the water. I'll"-- + +The stranger took two or three steps toward him and put out her hand. + +"May I go to her? Will you show me, please? I want to see her alone." + +Lysander bent his tall figure and moved along the rows of orange-trees, +until he caught a glimpse of Melissa's blue drapery. + +"She's right down there," he said, pointing between the smooth trunks +with his hoe. "It's rough walkin',--I've just been a-throwin' up a +furrow fer the irrigatin'; but I guess you c'n make it." + +She went down the shaded aisle between the orange-trees, Mrs. Sproul +looking after her dubiously, as a person guilty of a serious breach of +decorum in asking to see any one alone. + +Melissa leaned on her hoe, and watched her approach with listless +amazement. She took in every detail of her daintily clad +loveliness,--the graceful sway of her drapery as she walked, the cluster +of roses in her belt, and the wide hat with its little forest of curling +plumes. + +"You are Melissa?" The stranger put out her softly gloved hand, and +Melissa took it in limp, rustic acquiescence. "Mr. Sterling wished me +to come,--and I wanted to come myself,--to thank you for what you did; +it was very kind, and you were very brave to undertake it, and for one +you scarcely knew--it was very, _very_ good of you." + +Melissa colored to the little ripples of vivid hair about her temples. + +"Is he gone away?" she asked, rubbing her hands up and down on the worn +handle of the hoe. + +"No, but he is going this evening. Of course he could not stay. It would +be very painful for him, for all of you. Is there anything he can do for +you? He will be so glad if he can be of use to you in any way"-- She +hesitated, watching the pained look grow in her listener's face. + +"Ain't he never comin' back?" asked Melissa wistfully. + +Annette opened her brown eyes wide, and fixed them on the girl's face. + +"I don't know," she faltered. + +"I'd like to keep his hankecher," Melissa broke out tremulously. "I hurt +my arm oncet up where they was blastin', and he tied it up fer me with +his hankecher. I was takin' it to 'im that Sunday. I had it all washed +and done up. I'd like to keep it, though,--if you think he wouldn't +care." Her eyes filled, and her voice broke treacherously. "That's all. +Tell 'im good-by." + +Annette was gazing at her breathlessly. It came over her like a cloud, +the poverty, the hopelessness, the dreariness of it all. She made a +little impetuous rush forward. + +"Oh, yes, yes," she said eagerly, through her tears; "and he is so +sorry, and he sent you these,"--she took the roses from her belt, her +lover's roses, and thrust them into Melissa's nerveless grasp,--"and +I--oh, _I_ shall love you always!" + +Then she turned, and hurried through the sun and shadow of the orchard +back to the carriage. + +"I am ready to go now," she said, somewhat stiffly, to her father. + +All the way down the dusty mountain road, over which Melissa had +traveled so patiently, she kept murmuring to herself, "Oh, the poor +thing,--the poor, poor thing!" + +Some years afterwards, when Mr. Frederick Sterling's girth and dignity +had noticeably increased, he saw among his wife's ornaments a gaudy +trinket that brought a curious twinge of half-forgotten pain into his +consciousness. He was not able to understand, nor is it likely that he +will ever know, how it came there, or why there came over him at sight +of it a memory of sycamores and running water, and the smell of sage and +blooming buckthorn and chaparral. + + + + +ALEX RANDALL'S CONVERSION. + + +I. + +Mrs. Randall was piecing a quilt. She had various triangular bits of +calico, in assorted colors, strung on threads, and distributed in piles +on her lap. She had put on her best dress in honor of the minister's +visit, which was just ended. It was a purple, seeded silk, adorned with +lapels that hung in wrinkles across her flat chest, and she had spread a +gingham apron carefully over her knees, to protect their iridescent +splendor. + +She was a russet-haired woman, thin, with that blonde thinness which +inclines to transparent redness at the tip of the nose and chin, and the +hand that hovered over the quilt patches, in careful selection of colors +for a "star and chain" pattern, was of a glistening red, and coarsely +knotted at the knuckles, in somewhat striking contrast to her delicate +face. + +Her husband sat at a table in one corner of the spotless kitchen, eating +a belated lunch. He was a tall man, and stooped so that his sunburned +beard almost touched the plate. + +"Mr. Turnbull was here," said Mrs. Randall, with an air of introducing a +subject rather than of giving information. + +The man held a knife-load of smear-case in front of his mouth, and +grunted. It was not an interrogative grunt, but his wife went on. + +"He said he could 'a' put off coming if he'd known you had to go to +mill." + +Mr. Randall swallowed the smear-case. His bushy eyebrows met across his +face, and he scowled so that the hairs stood out horizontally. + +"Did you tell him I could 'a' put off going to mill till I knowed he was +coming?" + +His thick, obscure voice seemed to tangle itself in the hay-colored +mustache that hid his mouth. His tone was tantalizingly free from anger. + +"I wish you wouldn't, Elick," said his wife reproachfully; "not before +the children, anyway." + +The children, a girl of seven and a boy of four, sat on the doorstep in +a sort of dazed inertia, occasioned by the shock of the household's +sudden and somewhat perplexing return to its week-day atmosphere just as +they had adjusted themselves to the low Sabbatic temperature engendered +by the minister's presence. + +The girl had two tightly braided wisps of hair in varying hues of +corn-silk, curving together at the ends like the mandibles of a beetle. +She turned when her father spoke, and looked from him to her mother with +a round, blue-eyed stare from under her bulging forehead. The boy's +stolid head was thrown back a little, so that his fat neck showed two +sunburned wrinkles below his red curls. His gingham apron parted at the +topmost button, disclosing a soft, pathetic little back, and his small +trousers were hitched up under his arms, the two bone buttons which +supported them staring into the room reproachfully, as if conscious of +the ignominy of belonging to masculine garb under the feminine eclipse +of an apron. + +Mrs. Randall bent a troubled gaze upon her offspring, as if expecting +to see them wilt visibly under their father's irreverence. + +"Mary Frances," she said anxiously, "run away and show little brother +the colts." + +The girl got up and took her brother's hand. + +"Come on, Wattie," she said in a small, superior way, very much as if +she had added: "These grown people have weaknesses which it is better +for us to pretend not to know. They are going to talk about them." + +Mrs. Randall waited until the two little figures idled across the +dooryard before she spoke. + +"I don't think you ought to act the way you do, Elick, just because you +don't like Mr. Turnbull; it ain't right." + +The man dropped his chin doggedly, and fed himself without lifting his +elbows from the table. + +"I can't always manage to be at home when folks come a-visiting," he +said in his gruff, tangled voice. + +"You was at church on Sabbath when Mr. Turnbull gave out the pastoral +visitations: he knew that as well as I did. I couldn't say a word +to-day. I just had to set here and take it." + +"No, you didn't, Matilda: you didn't have to stay any more than I did." + +"Elick!" + +The woman's voice had a sharp reproof in it. He had touched the +Calvinistic quick. She might not reverence the man, but the minister was +sacred. + +"Well, I can't help it," persisted her husband obstinately. "You can +take what you please off him. I don't want him to say anything to me." + +"Oh, he didn't _say_ anything, Elick. What was there to say?" + +"He doesn't gener'ly keep still because he has nothin' to say." + +The man gave a muffled, explosive laugh, and pushed back his chair. Mrs. +Randall's eyelids reddened. She laid down her work and got up. + +"I guess I'll take off this dress before I clear up the things," she +said, in a voice of temporary defeat. + +Her husband picked up the empty water-pail as he left the kitchen, and +filled it at the well. When he brought it back there was no one +visible. + +"Need any wood, Tildy?" he called toward the bedroom where she was +dressing. + +"No, I guess not." The voice was indistinct, but she might have had her +skirt over her head. Alex made a half-conciliatory pause. He preferred +to know that she was not crying. + +"How you been feelin' to-day?" + +"Middlin'." + +She was not crying. The man gave his trousers a hitch of relief, and +went back to his work. + +There had been a scandal in Alex Randall's early married life. The +scattered country community had stood aghast before the certainty of his +guilt, and there had been a little lull in the gossip while they waited +to see what his wife would do. + +Matilda Hazlitt had been counted a spirited girl before her marriage, +and there were few of her neighbors who hesitated to assert that she +would take her baby and go back to her father's house. It had been a +nine-days' wonder when she had elected to believe in her husband. The +injured girl had been an adopted member of the elder Randall's +household, half servant, half daughter, and it was whispered that her +love for Alex was older than his marriage. Just how much of the +neighborhood talk had reached Matilda's ears no one knew. The girl had +gone away, and the community had accepted Alex Randall for his wife's +sake, but not unqualifiedly. + +Mrs. Randall had never been very strong, and of late she had become +something of an invalid, as invalidism goes in the country, where women +are constantly ailing without any visible neglect of duty. It had "broke +her spirit," the women said. Some of the younger of them blamed her, but +in the main it was esteemed a wifely and Christian course that she +should make this pretense of confidence in her husband's innocence for +the sake of her child. No one wondered that it wore upon her health. + +Alex had been grateful, every one acknowledged, and it was this fact of +his dogged consideration for Matilda's comfort that served more than +anything else to reinstate him somewhat in the good opinion of his +neighbors. There had been a good deal of covert sympathy for Mrs. +Randall at first, but as years went by it had died out for lack of +opportunity to display itself. True, the minister had made an effort +once to express to her his approval of her course, but it was not likely +that any one else would undertake it, nor that he would repeat the +attempt. She had looked at him curiously, and when she spoke the iciness +of her tone made his own somewhat frigid utterances seem blushingly warm +and familiar by contrast. + +"It would be strange," she said, "if a wife should need encouragement to +stand by her husband when he is in trouble." + +Alex had hated the minister ever since, and had made this an excuse for +growing neglect of religious duties. + +"It is no wonder he dreads to go to preachin', with that awful sin on +his conscience," the women whispered to one another. They always +whispered when they spoke of sin, as if it were sleeping somewhere near, +and were liable to be aroused. Matilda divined their thoughts, and +fretted under Alex's neglect of public service. She wished him to carry +his head high, with the dignity of innocence. It appalled him at times +to see how perfectly she apprehended her own part as the wife of a man +wrongfully accused. He was not dull, but he had a stupid masculine +candor of soul that stood aghast before her unswerving hypocrisy. She +had never asked him to deny his guilt; she had simply set herself to +establish his innocence. + +Small wonder that she was tried and hampered by his failure to "act like +other people," as she would have said if she had ever put her worry into +words. It had been one of many disappointments to her that he should go +to mill that day, instead of putting on his best coat and sitting in +sullen discomfort through the pastor's "catechising." She had felt such +pride in his presence at church on Sabbath; and then had come the +announcement, "Thursday afternoon, God willing, I shall visit the family +of Mr. Alexander Randall." How austerely respectable it had sounded! And +the people had glanced toward the pew and seen Alex sitting there, with +Wattie on his knee. And after all he had gone to mill, and left her to +be pitied as the wife of a man who was afraid to face the preacher in +his own house! + +Matilda slipped the rustling splendor of her purple silk over her head, +and went back to the limpness of her week-day calico with a sigh. + +When Alex came in for the milk-pail, she was standing by the stove, +turning the long strips of salt pork that curled and sizzled in the +skillet. Her shoulders seemed to droop a trifle more in her +working-dress, but her face was flushed from the heat of the cooking. + +"There wasn't any call to get a warm supper for me, Tildy. I ain't +hungry to speak of." + +"Well, I guess anyway I'd better make some milk gravy for the children; +I didn't have up a fire at noon, see'n' you was away. It ain't much +trouble." + +Her voice was resolutely cheerful, and Alex knew that the discussion was +ended. But after the supper things were cleared away, she said to Mary +Frances, "Can't you go and let your pa see how nice you can say your +psa'm?" + +And the child had gone outside where Alex was sitting, and had stood +with her hands behind her, her sharp little shoulders moving in unison +with her sing-song as she repeated the verses. + + "'That man hath perfect blessedness + Who walketh not astray + In counsel of ungodly men, + Nor stands in sinners' way, + Nor sitteth in the scorner's chair: + But placeth his delight + Upon God's law, and meditates + On his law day and night.'" + +The child caught her breath with a long sigh, and hurried on to the end. + + "'In judgment, therefore, shall not stand + Such as ungodly are; + Nor in th' assembly of the just + Shall wicked men appear. + For why? The way of godly men + Unto the Lord is known; + Whereas the way of wicked men + Shall quite be overthrown.'" + +Then she stood still, waiting for her father's praise. + +He caught her thin little arm and drew her toward him, where she could +not look into his face. + +"You say it very nice, Mary Frances,--very nice indeed." + +And Mary Frances smiled, a prim little satisfied smile, and nestled her +slim body against him contentedly. + + +II. + +Ten years drifted away, and there was a new minister in the congregation +at Blue Mound. The Reverend Andrew Turnbull had died, and his successor +had come from a Western divinity school, with elocutionary honors thick +upon him. Under his genial warmth the congregation had thawed into a +staid enthusiasm. To take their orthodoxy with this generous coating of +zeal and kindliness and graceful rhetoric, and know that the bitterness +that proclaimed it genuine was still there, unimpaired and effective, +was a luxury that these devout natures were not slow to appreciate. A +few practical sermons delivered with the ardor and enthusiasm of a +really earnest youth stamped the newcomer as a "rare pulpiter," and a +fresh, bubbling geniality, as sincere as it was effusive, opened a new +world to their creed-encompassed souls. Not one of them thought of +resenting his youthful patronage. He was the ambassador of God to them, +and, while they would have been shocked beyond measure at his +appearance in the pulpit in a gray coat, they perceived no incongruity +between the brightness of his smile and the gloom of his theology. + +This man came into Alex Randall's house with no odor of sanctity about +him, and with no knowledge of an unhappy past. Matilda had grown older +and stooped more, and her knot of sandy hair was less luxuriant than it +had once been, but there were no peevish, fretful lines on her face. It +began to grow young again now that she saw Alex becoming "such friends +with the minister." Mary Frances was a tall, round-shouldered girl, +teaching the summer school, and Wattie was a sturdy boy in +roundabouts, galloping over the farm, clinging horizontally to +half-broken colts, and suffering from a perpetual peeling of the skin +from his sunburned nose. Matilda was proud of her children. She hoped it +was not an ungodly pride. She knelt very often on the braided rug, and +buried her worn face in the side of her towering feather bed, while she +prayed earnestly that they might honor their _father_ and their mother, +that their days might be long in the land which the Lord their God had +given them. If she laid a stress upon the word "father," was it to be +wondered at? And the children did honor their father so far as she knew. +If he would only join the church, and share with her the responsibility +of their precious souls! It had been hard for her, when Wattie was +baptized, to stand there alone and feel the pitying looks of the +congregation behind her. Her pulse quickened now at every announcement +of communion, and she listened with renewed hopefulness when Mr. +Anderson leaned forward in the pulpit and gave the solemn invitation to +those who had sat under the kindly influence of the gospel for many +years untouched to shake off their soul-destroying lethargy, and come +forward and enroll themselves on the Lord's side. + +It was the Friday after one of these appeals that Alex came into the +kitchen and said awkwardly,-- + +"I guess I'll change my clothes, Matildy, and go over t' the church this +afternoon and meet the Session." + +She felt the burden of years lifted from her shoulders. She said +simply,-- + +"I'm real glad of it, Elick. You'll find two shirts in the middle +drawer. I think the under one's the best." + +Matilda went back to her work, and thought how the stain would be wiped +away. "They'll have to give in that he's a good man now," she said to +herself. She fought with the smile that would curve her lips. The +minister would announce it on Sabbath. "By letter from sister +congregations," and then the names; and then, "On profession of faith, +Alexander Randall." She tried to stifle her pride. It must be pride, she +said,--it must be something evil that could make her so very, _very_ +happy. + + +III. + +It was late when Alex came home, and he did the chores after supper. +Mary Frances and Wattie had gone to singing-school and Matilda was alone +in the kitchen when her husband came in. He sat down on the doorstep, +with his back to her and his head down, and stuck the blade of his +jack-knife into the pine step between his feet. There was a long +silence, and when he spoke his voice had a husky embarrassment. + +"There's something I suppose I'd ought to have talked to you about all +this time, Matildy, but somehow I couldn't seem to do it. I had a talk +with Mr. Anderson, and he brought it up before the Session, and they +didn't seem to think anything more need to be said about it. It's all +dead and gone now, and of course you know I've been sorry time and time +and again. I don't suppose I ought to say it, but it wasn't altogether +my fault. She never did act right, but then, of course"-- + +"_Elick!_" + +The man heard his name in a quick gasp behind him. He turned and looked +up. Matilda was standing over him, with a white, distorted face. + +"Do you mean--to tell me--that it was _true_?" + +She got the words out with an effort. Her chin worked convulsively. She +looked an old, old woman. + +"True?" + +The man lifted a dazed, questioning face to hers. He groped his way back +through twenty years. This woman had believed in him all the time! He +saw her take two or three steps backward and fall into a chair. They +sat there until the room grew dark. The wind began to blow through the +house, and Alex got up and put out the cat and shut the door. Then he +went to his wife's side. + +"Don't you think you'd better go to bed, Matildy?" + +She shook her head. + +"I suppose there's such a thing as repentance," he went on, with a rasp +in his voice, "and a blotting out of sins, isn't there, Matildy?" + +She put out her hand and pushed him away. He went into the bedroom and +shut the door. She could hear him pulling off his boots on the bootjack. +Then he walked about a little in his stocking feet, and presently the +bed-cord squeaked, and she knew he was in bed. Later, she could hear his +heavy breathing. She sat there in the dark until she heard Wattie +whistling; then she got up and lit a candle and opened the door softly. +The boy came loping up the path. + +"Mary France's got a beau!" he broke out, with a little snort of +ridicule. + +His mother laid her hand on his arm. + +"Wattie," she said, "I want you to go out to the barn and harness up old +Doll and the colt. I want you to go with me and Mary Frances over to +grandfather Hazlitt's." + +The boy's mouth and eyes grew round. + +"To-night?" + +"Yes, right away. I don't want you to ask any questions, Wattie. Mother +never yet told you to do anything wrong. Just go out and get the team, +and be as quiet as you can." + +The boy "hunched" his shoulders, and started with long, soft strides +toward the barn. His mother heard him begin to whistle again and then +stop abruptly. She stood on the step until she heard voices at the gate, +and Mary Frances came up the walk between the marigolds and zinnias and +stood in the square of light from the door. She met her mother with a +pink, bashful face. + +"I want you to go upstairs, Mary Frances, and get your other cloak and +my blanket shawl. Wattie's gone to fetch the horses. You and him and +me's goin' over to grandfather Hazlitt's." + +"To grandfather Hazlitt's this time o' night! Is anybody sick?" + +"No, there's nobody sick. I don't want you should ask any questions, +Mary Frances. Just get on your things, and do as mother says; and don't +make any more noise than you can help." + +The young girl went into the house, and came out presently with her +mother's shawl and bonnet. They could hear the wagon driving around to +the gate. + +Matilda went into the kitchen and blew out the candle. Then she closed +the door quietly, and went down the walk with her daughter. + +Matilda Randall was not at communion on the next Sabbath. She was "down +sick at her father's," the women said, and they thought it hard that she +should be absent when Alex joined the church. + +"I don't doubt it's been quite a cross to her, the way he's held out," +one of them remarked; "and it seems a pity she couldn't have been there +to partake with him the first time." + +But the weary woman, lying so still in her old room in her father's +house, had a heavier cross. + +Her mother tiptoed into the room, the morning after her arrival, and +stood beside her until she opened her eyes. + +"Elick is outside, Matildy. Shall I tell him to come in?" + +She shook her head, and closed her eyes again wearily. + +The old woman went out, and confronted her gray-haired husband +helplessly. + +"It beats me, Josiah, what he could 'a' said or done that she's took to +heart so, after what she's put up with all these years." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Anderson preached the funeral sermon very touchingly, when it was +all over. The tears came into his young eyes, and there were treacherous +breaks in his rhetoric as he talked. + +"This sister in Israel, whose lovely and self-sacrificing life has just +ended so peacefully, lived to see the dearest wish of her heart +gratified,--the conversion of the husband of her youth to the faith of +her fathers. We are told that some have died of grief, but if this frail +heart ceased to beat from any excess of emotion, it must have been, my +friends, from the fullness of joy,--the joy 'that cometh in the +morning.'" + +But Alex Randall knew better. + + + + +IDY. + + +I. + +Senora Gonzales was leaning upon the corral gate in the shade of the +pomegranates, looking out over the lake. The lake itself was not more +placid than the senora's face under her black rebozo. Perhaps a long +life of leaning and gazing had given her those calm, slow-moving eyes, +full of the wisdom of unfathomable ignorance. The landscape on the +opposite shore was repeated in the water below, as if to save her the +trouble of raising her heavily fringed lids. To the southward a line of +wild geese gleamed snow-white, like the crest of a wave. Half a dozen +dogs were asleep in the smoothly swept dooryard behind her, and a young +Mexican, whose face was pitted by smallpox, like the marks of raindrops +in dry sand, leaned against the gnarled trunk of a trellised grapevine, +clasping his knees, and sending slow wreaths of smoke from his +cigarette. The barley in the field behind the house was beginning to +head, and every breath of wind stirred it in glistening waves. Beyond +the field shone a yellow mist of wild mustard. The California spring, +more languorous, even with its hint of moisture, than the cloudless +summer, sent a thousand odors adrift upon the air. Even the smell of +garlic hanging about the senora could not drown the scent of the +orange-blooms, and as for Ricardo's cigarette, surely no reasonable +mortal could object to that. Ricardo himself would have questioned the +sanity of any one who might have preferred the faint, musky fragrance of +the alfilaria to the soothing odor of tobacco. He closed his eyes in +placid unconsciousness of such vagaries of taste, and rocked himself +rhythmically, as if he were a part of the earth, and felt its motion. + +A wagon was creaking along the road behind the house, but it did not +disturb him. There were always wagons now; Ricardo had grown used to +them, and so had the senora, who did not even turn her head. These +restless Americanos, who bought pieces of land that were not large +enough to pasture a goat, and called them ranchos--caramba! what fools +they were, always a-hurrying about! + +The wagon had stopped. Well, it would be time enough to move when some +one called. A dust-colored hound that slept at the corner of the house, +stretched flat, as if moulded in relief from the soil upon which he lay, +raised his head and pricked up one ear; then arose, as if reluctantly +compelled to do the honors, and went slowly around the house. + +"Of course they've got a dawg; forty of 'em, like enough!" It was a +girl's voice, pitched in a high, didactic key. "I guess I c'n make 'em +understand, pappy; I'll try, anyway." + +She came around the house, and confronted Ricardo, who took his +cigarette from his mouth, and looked at her gravely without moving. The +senora turned her head slowly, and glanced over her shoulder. + +The girl smiled, displaying two rows of sound teeth shut tightly +together. + +"How do you do?" she said, raising her voice still higher, and advancing +toward the senora with outstretched hand. "I suppose you're Mrs. +Gonsallies." + +The senora disentangled one arm slowly from her rebozo, and gave the +newcomer a large, brown, cushiony hand. + +"This is my fawther," continued the girl, waving her left hand toward +her companion; "sabby?" + +The man stepped forward, and confronted the senora. She looked at him +gravely, and shook her head. He was a small, heavily bearded man, with +soft, bashful brown eyes, which fell shyly under the senora's placid +gaze. + +"She don't understand you, Idy," he said helplessly. + +The girl caught his hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Never mind, +pappy," she said, lowering her voice; "I'll fetch her. Now, listen," she +went on, fixing her wide gray eyes on the senora, and speaking in a +loud, measured voice. "I--am--Idy Starkweather. This--is--my--fawther. +There! Now! Sabby?" + +Evidently she considered failure to understand English a species of +physical disability which might be overcome by strong concentration of +the will. + +The senora turned a bland, unmoved face upon her son. The eyes of the +newcomers followed her gaze. Ricardo held his cigarette between his +fingers, and blew a cloud of smoke above his head. + +"She don' spik no Englis'," he said, looking at them mildly. + +The girl flushed to the roots of her hay-colored frizz of hair. "You're +a nice one!" she said. "Why didn't you speak up?" + +Ricardo gave her another gentle, undisturbed glance. "Ah on'stan' a +leetle Englis'; Ah c'n talk a leetle," he said calmly. + +The girl hesitated an instant, letting her desire for information +struggle with her resentment. "Well, then," she said, lowering her voice +half sullenly, "my fawther here wants to ask you something. We live a +mile or so down the road. We've come out from Ioway this summer--me and +mother, that is; pappy here come in the spring, didn't you, pappy? An' +he bought the Slater place, an' there's ten acres of vineyard, an' +Barden,--he's the real 'state agent over t' Elsmore, you know 'im,--he +told my fawther they wuz all raisin-grapes, white muscat,--didn't he, +pappy?--an' my fawther here paid cash down fer the place, an' the +vineyard's comin' into bearin' next fall, an' Parker Lowe,--he has a +gov'ment claim on section eighteen, back of our ranch,---maybe you know +'im,--he says they're every one mission grapes--fer makin' wine. He +helped set 'em out, an' he says they got the cuttin's from your folks; +but I thought he wuz sayin' it just to plague me, so my fawther here +thought he'd come an' ask. If they are wine-grapes, that felluh Barden +lied--didn't he, pappy?" + +The Mexican gazed at her pensively through the smoke of his cigarette. + +"Yass, 'm," he said slowly and softly--"yass, 'm; Ah gass he tell good +deal lies. Ah gass he don' tell var' much trut'." + +"Then they _are_ mission grapes?" + +"Yass, 'm; dey all meession grapes; dey mek var' good wahn." + +The girl's face flamed an angry red under her crimpled thatch of hair. +She put out her hand with a swift, protecting gesture, and caught her +father's sleeve. + +The little man's cheeks were pale gray above his shaggy beard. He took +off his hat, and nervously wiped the damp hair from his forehead. His +daughter did not look at him. Ricardo could see the frayed plume on her +jaunty turban quiver. + +"My fawther here's a temperance man, a prohibitionist: he don't believe +in wine; he hates it; he wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. That +felluh Barden knowed it--didn't he, pappy? He lied!" She spoke fiercely, +catching her breath between her sentences. + +The Mexican threw away the end of his cigarette, and gazed after it with +pensive regret. + +"Some folks don' lak wahn," he said amiably. "Ah lak it var' well +mahse'f. Ah gass he al's tell var' big lies, Mist' Barrd'n." + +The girl turned away, still grasping her father's arm. Then she came +back, with a sudden and somewhat bewildering accession of civility. +"Addyoce," she said, bowing loftily toward the senora. The plume in her +hat had turned in the afternoon breeze, and curved forward, giving her a +slightly martial aspect. + +"Addyoce, Mr. Gonsallies. We're much obliged,--ain't we, pappy? +Addyoce." + +Ricardo touched his sombrero. "Good-evenin', mees," he said in his +soft, leisurely voice; "good-evenin', senor." + +When the last ruffle of Miss Starkweather's green "polonay" had +disappeared around the corner of the adobe house, the senora drifted +slowly across the dooryard in her voluminous pink drapery, and sat down +beside her son. There was a thin stratum of curiosity away down in her +Latin soul. What had Ricardo done to make the senorita so very angry? +She was angry, was she not? + +Oh, yes, she was very angry, but Ricardo had done nothing. Senor Barden +had sold her father ten acres of wine-grapes, and the old man did not +like wine; he liked raisins. Santa Maria! Did he mean to eat ten acres +of raisins? He need not drink his wine; he could sell it. But the +senorita was very angry; she would probably kill Senor Barden. She had +said she would kill him with a very long pole--ten feet. Ricardo would +not care much if she did. Senor Barden had called him a greaser. But as +for a man who did not like wine--caramba! + + +II. + +Parker Lowe's government claim was a fractional section, triangular in +shape, with its base on the grant line of Rancho la Laguna, and its apex +high up on the mountain-side. Parker's cabin was perched upon the +highest point, at the mouth of the canon, in a patch of unconquerable +boulders. Other government settlers were wont to remark the remoteness +of his residence from the tillable part of his claim, but Parker +remained loyal to his own fireside. + +"It's a sightly place," he asserted, "and nigh to the water, and it +ain't no furder goin' down to work than it would be comin' up fer a +drink, besides bein' down-grade. I lay out to quit workin' some o' these +days, but I don't never lay out to quit drinkin'." + +This latter determination on Parker's part had come to be pretty well +understood, and the former would have obtained ready credence except for +the fact that one cannot very well quit what he has never begun. Without +risking the injustice of the statement that Parker was lazy, it is +perhaps safe to say that he belonged by nature to the leisure class, +and doubtless felt the accident of his birth even more keenly than the +man of unquenchable industry who finds himself born to wealth and +idleness. "Holdin' down a claim" had proved an occupation as well +adapted to his tastes as anything that had ever fallen to his lot, and +his bachelor establishment among the boulders was managed with an +economy of labor, and a resultant of physical comfort, hitherto unknown +in the annals of housekeeping. The house itself was of unsurfaced +redwood, battened with lath to keep out the winter rain. The furniture +consisted of a wide shelf upon which he slept, two narrower ones which +held the tin cans containing his pantry stores, a bench, a table which +"let down" against the wall by means of leathern hinges when not in use, +a rusty stove, and a much-mended wooden chair. From numerous nails in +the wall smoky ends of bacon were suspended by their original hempen +strings, and the size of the grease-spot below testified to the length +of the "side" which Parker had carried in a barley sack from Barney +Wilson's store at Elsmore, five miles away on the other side of the +lake. Parker surveyed these mural decorations with deep, inward +satisfaction not untinged with patriotism. + +"There wa'n't many folks right here when I filed on to this claim," he +had been known to remark, "an' I may have trouble provin' up. But if the +Register of the General Land-Office wants to come an' take a look, he +c'n figger up from them ends o' bacon just about how long I've lived +here, an' satisfy himself that I've acted fair with the gover'ment, +which I've aimed to do, besides makin' all these improvements." + +The improvements referred to were hardly such as an artist would have so +designated, but Parker surveyed them with taste and conscience void of +offense. The redwood shanty; a dozen orange-trees, rapidly diminishing +in size and number by reason of neglect and gophers; a clump of slender, +smoky eucalypti; a patch of perennial tomato-vines; and a few acres of +what Barney Wilson called "veteran barley,"--it having been sown once, +and having "volunteered" ever since,--constituted those additions to the +value of the land, if not to the landscape, upon which Parker based his +homestead rights. + +Since the Laguna Ranch had been subdivided, and settlers had increased, +and especially since Eben Starkweather had bought the Slater place, and +Ida Starkweather had invaded the foot-hills with her vigorous, +self-reliant, breezy personality, Parker had been contemplating further +improvements in his domicile--improvements which, in moments of +flattered hope, assumed the dignity of a lean-to, a rocking-chair, and a +box-spring mattress. The dreams which had led him to a consideration of +this domestic expansion he had confided to no one but Mose Doolittle, +who had a small stock-ranch high up on the mountain, and who found +Parker's cabin a convenient resting-place on his journeys up and down +the trail. + +"I tell ye," he had said to Mose, "that girl is no slouch. Her pa is an +infant in arms, a babe an' a suckling, beside her. Her ma is sickly; one +o' your chronics. Idy runs the ranch. I set here of evenin's, an' watch +'em through this yer field-glass. She slams around that place like a +house a-fire. It's inspirin' to see her. Give me a woman that makes +things hum, ever-ee time!" + +"Somebody said she had a hell of a temper," ventured Mose, willing to be +the recipient of further confidences. + +"Somebody lied. She's got spunk. When she catches anybody in a mean +trick she don't quote poetry to 'im; she gives 'im the straight goods. +Some folks call that temper. I call it sand. There'll be a picnic when +she gets hold o' Barden!" + +Parker raised the field-glass again, and leveled it on the Starkweather +homestead. + +"There's the infant now, grubbin' greasewood. He's a crank o' the first +water; you'd ought to hear 'im talk. He went through the war, an' he's +short one lung, an' he's got the asmy so bad he breathes like a squeaky +windmill, an' he won't apply fer a pension because he says he was awful +sickly when he enlisted, an' he thinks goin' South an' campin' out saved +his life. That's what I call lettin' yer 'magination run away with ye." + +"What does Idy think about it?" queried Mose innocently. + +"Idy stands up fer her pa; that's what I like about 'er. I like a woman +that'll back a man up, right er wrong; it's proper an' female. It's +what made me take a shine to 'er." + +"You wouldn't want her to back Barden up." Mose made the suggestion +preoccupiedly, with his eyes discreetly wandering over the landscape, as +if he had suddenly missed some accustomed feature of it. + +Parker lowered the glass and glanced at him suspiciously. "No, sir-ee! +If there's any backin' done there, Barden'll do it. She'll make 'im +crawfish out o' sight when she ketches 'im. That's another thing I like +about 'er; she'll stand up fer a feller; that is, fer any feller that +b'longs to 'er--that is, I mean, fer a feller she b'longs to." + +Mose got up and turned around, and brushed the burr-clover from his +overalls. + +"Well, I guess I must be movin'," he said, with a highly artificial +yawn. "Come here, you Muggins!" he called to his burro, which had +strayed into the alfilaria. "Give me an invite to the weddin', Parker. +I'll send you a fresh cow if you do." + +Parker held the glass between his knees, and looked down at it with +gratified embarrassment. + +"There's a good deal to be gone through with yet, Mose," he said +dubiously. "I set up here with this yer field-glass, workin' myself up +to it, an' then I go down there, an' she comes at me so brash I get all +rattled, an' come home 'thout 'complishin' anythin'. But I'll make it +yet," he added, with renewed cheerfulness. "She sewed a button on fer me +t' other day. Now, between ourselves, Mose, don't ye think that's kind +o' hopeful?" + +Hopeful! Mose would say it was final. No girl had ever sewed a button on +for him. When one did, he would propose to her on the spot. He wondered +what Parker was thinking of not to seize such an opportunity. + +"That's what I had ought to 'a' done," acknowledged Parker, shaking his +head ruefully. "Yes, sir; that's what I'd ought to 'a' done. I had ought +to 'a' seized that opportunity an' pressed my suit." + +"That's the idea, Park," said his companion gravely, as he bestrode +Muggins, and jerked the small dejected creature out into the trail. +"You'd ought to 'a' pressed your suit; there's nothin' a woman likes +better 'n pressin' your suit. Whoop-la, Muggins!" + +Some time after Mose had disappeared up the canon, Parker heard a loud +echoing laugh. He turned his head to listen, and then raised the glass +and leveled it on Starkweather's ranch. + +"I thought at first that was Idy," he said to himself, "but it wa'n't. +She 's got a cheerful disposition, but I don't believe she'd laugh that +a-way when she's a-learnin' a bull calf to drink; that ain't what I call +a laughin' job. Jeemineezer! don't she hold that cantankerous little +buzzard's head down pretty. Whoa there, Calamity! don't you back into +the chicken corral. That's right, Idy, jam his head into the bucket, an' +set down on it--you're a daisy!" + + +III. + +On the strength of Mose's friendly encouragement, Parker betook himself +next day to where Eben Starkweather was trimming greasewood roots, and +moved about sociably from one hillock to another while his neighbor +worked. Nothing but the ardor of unspoken love would have reconciled +Parker to the exertion involved, for Eben worked briskly, in spite of +his singularity of lung and the disadvantages of "asmy," and the +greasewood was not very thick on the ground he had been clearing. The +grotesque gnarled roots were collected in little heaps, like piles of +discarded heathen images, and Eben hacked about among them, a very +mild-mannered but determined iconoclast. + +"I'll have to keep at it pretty studdy," he explained apologetically to +his visitor, "fer they say we're like enough not to have any more rain, +and I'm calc'latin' to grub out the vineyard before the ground hardens +up." + +"Goin' to yank them vines all out, are ye?" + +"That's the calc'lation." + +Parker clasped one knee, and whetted his knife on the toe of his boot +reflectively. + +"'Pears to me ye might sell off that vineyard, an' buy a strip t' other +side of ye, an' set out muscats." + +"I couldn't sell that vineyard," said Eben. He had laid down his axe, +and was wiping his forehead nervously with an old silk handkerchief. + +"Oh, I reckon ye could," said Parker easily; "ye got the whole place +pretty reasonable." + +The little man's bearded mouth twitched. When he spoke, his voice was +high and strained. + +"I'd jest as soon keep a saloon; I'd jest as soon sell wine to a man +after it's made as before it's made." He wiped the moist inner band of +his hat, and then dropped his handkerchief into it, and put it on his +head. Parker could see his grimy hand tremble. "I didn't know what I was +buyin'," he went on, picking up his axe, "but I'd know what I was +sellin'." + +Parker glanced at him as he fell to work. He was a crooked little man, +and one shoulder was higher than the other; there was nothing aggressive +in his manner. He had turned away as if he did not care to argue, did +not care even for a response. Perhaps no man on earth had less ability +to comprehend a timid soul lashed by conscience than Parker Lowe. "The +hell!" he ejaculated under his breath. Then he sat still a moment, and +drew a map of his claim, and the adjoining subdivision, on the ground +between his feet. The affectionate way in which the Starkweather ranch +line joined his own seemed suggestive. + +"It 'pears to me," he broke out judicially, "that ye could argue this +thing out better 'n ye do. Now, if I was in your place, 'pears to me I'd +look at it this a-way. There's a heap o' churches in Ameriky, an', if I +remember right, they mostly use wine for communion. I hain't purtook for +some time myself, but I guess I've got it right. Now all the wine that +could be made out o' them grapes o' yourn wouldn't s'ply half the +churches in this country, not to mention Europe an' Asie, an' Afriky; +an' as long as that's the case, I don't see as you're called on to +_know_ that your wine's used fer anything but religious purposes. Of +course you can conjure up all sorts o' turrible things about gettin' +drunk an' cavin' round, but that's what I call lettin' yer 'magination +run away with ye." + +"Your 'magination don't have to run a great ways to see men gettin' +drunk," said Eben, with some relaxation of voice and manner. The absence +of conviction which Parker's logic displayed seemed a relief to him. His +fanaticism was personal, not polemical. + +"What'd ye raise back in Ioway?" asked Parker, with seeming irrelevance. + +"Corn." + +"How'd ye reconcile that?" + +"I didn't reconcile it; I couldn't. I sold out, an' come away." + +Parker trimmed a ragged piece of leather from the sole of his boot, and +whistled softly. + +"Well, I try not to be an extremist," he said, with moderation. "That +Barden's the brazenest liar on this coast. He'd ought to be kicked by a +mule. I'd like to see Idy tackle 'im." + +This suggestive combination of Barden's deserts with his daughter's +energy seemed to give Eben no offense. + +"Idy's so mad with him she gets excited," he said mildly. "I can't make +'er see it's all fer the best. Sence I've found out about the vines, +I've been glad I bought 'em." + +Parker stopped his amateur cobbling, and looked up. + +"Ye don't mean it!" he said, with rising curiosity. + +"Yes; I'm glad o' the chance to get red o' them. It's worth the money." + +He turned to pick up another twisted root, displaying the patches on his +knees, and the hollowness of his sunken chest. + +"The hell!" commented Parker, softly to himself, with a long, indrawn +whistle. + +"I guess I'll go down to the house," he said aloud, getting up by easy +stages. "I see the cow's pulled up her stake, an' 's r'airn round tryin' +to get to the calf. Mebby Idy'll need some help." + +"She was calc'latin' to move 'er at noon," said Eben, shading his eyes, +and looking toward the house. "It must be 'long toward 'leven now. If +you're goin' down, you'd better stop an' have a bite o' dinner with us." + +"Well, I won't kick if the women folks don't," answered Parker amiably; +"bachin' 's pretty slow. I've eat so much bacon an' beans I dunno +whether I'm a hog or a Boston schoolma'am." + +Arrived at the corral, where the cow stood with uplifted head snuffing +the air, and gazing excitedly at her wild-eyed offspring, his composure +suddenly vanished. Miss Starkweather was holding the stake in one hand, +and winding the rope about her arm with the other. + +"Hello!" she said, with a start, "where on earth 'd you spring from?" + +"I see the cow was loose," ventured Parker, "an' I thought you mightn't +be able to ketch 'er." + +"Well, it wouldn't be fer lack o' practice," responded the girl, with a +wide, good-natured smile. "She's yanked her stake out three times this +mornin', an' come cavin' around here as if she thought somebody wanted +to run away with 'er triflin' little calf. I guess she likes to have me +follerin' 'er 'round." + +"She's got good taste," said Parker gallantly. + +The girl laughed, and struck at him with the iron stake. + +"Oh, taffy!" she said, looking at him coquettishly from under her frizz. +"Ain't you ashamed?" + +"No," said Parker, waxing brave. "Gi' me the stake; mebbe I c'n fasten +'er so she'll stay." + +"You're welcome to try,"--the girl slipped her arm out of the coil of +rope,--"but I don't b'lieve you can, unless you drill a hole in a +boulder, an' wedge the stake in." + +Parker led away the cow, mooing with maternal solicitude, and Idy +returned to the house. When she reached the kitchen door, she turned and +called between the ringing blows of the axe,-- + +"Oh, Mr. Lowe, mother says won't ye come to dinner?" + +"You bet!" answered Parker warmly. + +Mrs. Starkweather sat on the doorstep picking a chicken, which seemed to +develop a prodigious accession of leg and neck in the process. She had +the set, impervious face of a nervous invalid, and her whole attitude, +the downward curve of her mouth, and the elevation of her brows, were +eloquent of injustice. The clammy, half-plucked fowl in her hand seemed +to share her expression of irreparable injury. She allowed her daughter +to climb over her without moving, and when Parker appeared she wiped one +long yellow hand on her apron, and gave it to him in a nerveless grasp. + +"I hope you'll excuse me fer not gettin' up," she drawled; "I guess you +c'n get a-past me. Idy, come an' set a rocker fer Mr. Lowe." + +"I've got my hands in the dough," called her daughter hilariously, from +the pantry; "Mr. Lowe'll have to set on his thumb till I get these +biscuits in the pan." + +Parker's head swam. The domestic familiarity of it all filled him with +ecstasy. He got himself a chair, and inquired solicitously concerning +Mrs. Starkweather's health. + +"Oh, I'm just about the same," complained his hostess; "not down sick, +but gruntin'. Folks that's up an' down like I am don't get nigh as much +sympathy as they 'd ought. I tell Starkweather, well folks like him an' +Idy ain't fittin' comp'ny fer an inv'lid." + +"Mr. Starkweather's lookin' better 'n he did," said Parker, listening +rapturously to the thumps of the rolling-pin in the pantry. "I think +this climate agrees with 'im." + +"Oh, he's well enough," responded Mrs. Starkweather dejectedly, "if he +didn't make 'imself so much extry work. Grubbin' out that vineyard, now! +I can't fer the life o' me see"-- + +"Maw!" called Idy warningly, opening the battened door with a jerk--"you +maw! look out, now!" + +Mrs. Starkweather drooped her mouth, and raised her brows, with a sigh +of extreme and most self-sacrificial virtue. + +"Oh, of course Idy fires up if anybody says anythin' ag'in' 'er fawther. +I guess that's always the way; them that does least fer their fam'lies +always gets the most credit. I think if some folks was thinkin' more +about their dooties an' less about their queer notions, some other folks +wouldn't be laid up with miseries in their backs." + +Having thus modestly obscured herself and her sufferings behind a +plurality of backs, Mrs. Starkweather arose and dragged herself into the +house. + +"Gi' me the chicken," said Idy, slamming her biscuits into the oven, and +taking the hunchbacked and apparently shivering fowl from her mother. "I +ain't a-goin' to have anybody talkin' about pappy, an' you know it. If I +was a man, I'd get even with that lyin' Barden, or I'd know the reason +why." + +"That's just what I was sayin'," returned Mrs. Starkweather, with +malicious meekness. "If your fawther was the man he'd ought to be, he +wouldn't be rode over that way by nobody." + +The girl's face flamed until it seemed that her blonde thatch of hair +would take fire. + +"Pappy ain't to blame," she said angrily; "he can't help thinkin' the +way he does. There ain't no call to be mad with pappy; it's all that +miser'ble, lyin' Barden. It'll be a cold day fer him when I ketch 'im." + +Parker gazed at her admiringly. She had laid the chicken on a corner of +the table, and was vigorously cutting it into pieces, cracking its +bones, and slashing into it with an energy that seemed to her lover +deliciously bloodthirsty and homicidal. + +"Barden's got back from the East," he announced. "I see 'im over t' +Elsmore Saturday, tryin' to peek over the top of his high collar. You'd +ought to seen 'im; he's sweet pretty." + +The girl refused to smile, but the blaze in her cheeks subsided a +little. + +"It's just as well fer him I didn't," she said, whetting her knife on +the edge of a stone jar. "He mightn't be so pretty after I'd got done +lookin' at 'im." + +Parker laughed resoundingly, and the girl's face relaxed a little under +his appreciative mirth. When her father stepped upon the platform at +the kitchen door, she left the frying chicken to hiss and sputter in the +skillet, and went to meet him. + +"Now, pappy," she said, taking hold of him with vigorous tenderness, +"I'll bet you've been workin' too hard. Here, let me fill that basin, +and when you've washed, you come in an' let Mr. Lowe give ye a pointer +on settin' 'round watchin' other folks work." She raised her voice for +Parker's benefit. "He come out here fer his health, an' he's gettin' so +fat an' sassy he has to live by 'imself." + +Parker's appreciation of this brilliant sally seemed to threaten the +underpinning of the kitchen. + +Eben smiled up into his daughter's face as he lathered his hairy hands. + +"I wouldn't make out much at livin' by myself, Idy," he said gently. + +"You ain't goin' to get a chance," rejoined his daughter, rushing back +to her sputtering skillet, and spearing the pieces of chicken +energetically; "you ain't goin' to get red o' me, no matter how sassy +you are; I'm here to stay." + +"Hold on now," warned Parker; "mind what you're sayin'." + +"I know what I'm sayin'," retorted the girl, tossing her head. "I'd just +like to see the man that could coax me away from pappy." + +"You'd like to see 'im, would ye?" roared Parker, slapping his knee. +"Come, now, that's pretty good. Mebbe if you'd look, ye might ketch a +glimpse of 'im settin' 'round som'er's." + +The girl lifted the skillet from the stove, and let the flame flare up +to hide her blushes. + +"He wouldn't be settin' 'round," she asserted indignantly, jabbing the +fire with her fork. "He'd be up an' comin', you c'n bet on that." + +"What's Idy gettin' off now?" drawled Mrs. Starkweather from the other +room. + +"Gettin' off her base," answered Parker jocosely. Nevertheless, the wit +of his inamorata rankled, and after dinner he went with Eben to the barn +to "hitch up." + +"Idy wants to go over to Elsmore this afternoon," said Eben, "an' I +promised to go 'long; but I'd ought to stay with the grubbin'. If you +was calc'latin' to lay off anyhow, mebbe you wouldn't mind the ride. The +broncos hain't been used much sence I commenced on the greasewood, and +I don't quite like to have 'er go alone." + +"She hadn't ought to go alone," broke in Parker eagerly. "That pinto o' +yourn's goin' to kick some o' ye into the middle o' next week, one o' +these days. I was just thinkin' I'd foot it over to the store fer some +bacon. Tell Idy to wait till I run up to the house an' get my gun." + +Idy waited, rather impatiently, and rejected with contempt her escort's +proposal to take the lines. + +"When I'm scared o' this team, I'll let ye know," she informed him, +giving the pinto a cut with the whip that sent his heels into the air. +"If ye don't like my drivin', ye c'n invite yerself to ride with +somebody else. I'm a-doin' this." + +The afternoon was steeped in the warm fragrance of a California spring. +Every crease and wrinkle in the velvet of the encircling hills was +reflected in the blue stillness of the laguna. Patches of poppies blazed +like bonfires on the mesa, and higher up the faint smoke of the +blossoming buckthorn tangled its drifts in the chaparral. Bees droned in +the wild buckwheat, and powdered themselves with the yellow of the +mustard, and now and then the clear, staccato voice of the meadow-lark +broke into the drowsy quiet--a swift little dagger of sound. + +"The barley's headin' out fast." Parker raised his voice above the +rattle of the wagon. "I wished now I'd 'a' put in that piece of +Harrington's." + +"Harvest's a poor time fer wishin'; it's more prof'table 'long about +seedin'-time," said Idy, with a smile that threatened the meshes of her +stylishly drawn veil. + +Parker set one foot on the dashboard, and swung the other out of the +wagon nervously. + +"I do a good deal o' wishin' now that ain't very prof'table--time o' +year don't seem to make much difference," he said plaintively. + +"Well, I guess if I wanted anything I wouldn't wish fer it a _great_ +while--not if I could set to work an' get it." + +The vim of this remark seemed to communicate itself to the pinto through +the tightened rein, and sent him forward with accelerated speed. + +Parker glanced at his companion from under the conical shapelessness of +his old felt hat, but she kept her eyes on the team, and gave him her +jaunty profile behind its tantalizing barrier of meshes and dots. + +"Well, I'll bet if you wanted what I want you'd be 'most afraid to +mention it," he said, reaching down into the tall barley, and jerking up +a handful of the bearded heads. + +"Well, now, I bet I wouldn't." + +"S'posin' I wanted to get married?" + +There was a silence so sudden that it had the effect of an explosion. +Then Miss Starkweather giggled nervously. + +"That's just exactly what I do want," persisted Parker desperately, +turning his toe inward, and kicking the wagon-box. + +There was another disheartening silence. Then the girl's color flamed up +under her rusty lace veil. She turned upon him witheringly. + +"Well, what are ye goin' to do about it? Set 'round and wait till some +girl asks ye?" + +Her voice had a fine sarcastic sting in it. + +Parker whipped his brown overalls with a green barley-head. + +"No; I ain't such a bloomin' idiot as I look." + +"I don't know 'bout that," answered the young woman coolly. + +Parker faced about. + +"Now, look here, Idy," he said; "you'd ought to quit foolin'. You know +what I mean well enough; you're just purtendin'. You know I want to +marry ye." + +"Me!" The girl lifted her brows until they disappeared under the edge of +her much-becurled bang. "Want to marry _me!_ Great Scott!" + +"I don't see why it's great Scott or great anything else," said Parker +doggedly. + +Idy held the reins in her left hand, and smoothed her alpaca lap with +the whip handle, in maiden meditation. + +"Well, I don't know as 't is so very great after all," she said, rubbing +the folds of her dress, and glancing at him in giggling confusion. + +Parker made an experimental motion with his right arm toward the back of +the seat. The girl repelled him dexterously with her elbow. + +"You drop that, Parker Lowe!" she said, with dignity. "I ain't so far +gone as all that. There's that Gonsallies felluh lookin' at us. You just +straighten up, or I'll hit ye a cut with this whip!" + +Her lover gave a short, embarrassed laugh. + +"Oh, come now, Idy; Ricardo don't understand United States." + +"Well, I don't care whether he understands United States or not. I guess +idiots acts about the same in all languages. I'll bet a dollar he +understands what you're up to, anyway; so there." + +She drove on, in rigid perpendicularity, past the adobe ranch-house of +the Gonzales family, and around the curve of the lake-shore, into the +sunshine of the wild mustard that fringed the road. Through it they +could see the pale sheen of the ripening barley-fields, broken here and +there by the darker green of alfalfa. + +As the mustard grew taller and denser, Idy's spine relaxed sufficiently +to permit a covert, conciliatory glance toward her companion's arm, +which hung from the back of the seat in the disappointed attitude it had +assumed at her repulse. + +"I s'pose you think I'm awful touchy," she broke out at last, "an' mebbe +I am; but before I promise to marry anybody, there's two things he's got +to promise _me_--he's got to sign the pledge, an' he's got to get even +with that felluh Barden." + +Parker's face, which had brightened perceptibly at the first +requirement, clouded dismally at the second. + +Idy dropped her chin on the silk handkerchief flaring softly at her +throat, and looked at him deliciously sidewise from under her +overshadowing frizz. + +"I'll promise _any_thing, Idy," he protested, fervently abject. + +Half an hour later they drove into Elsmore with the radiance of their +betrothal still about them, and Idy drove the team up, with a skillful +avoidance of the curb, before the "Live and Let Live Meat-Market." + +"I'm goin' to get some round steak," she said, giving the lines to +Parker, who sprang to the sidewalk, "an' then I'm goin' over to +Saunders's to look at jerseys. You c'n go where you please, but if I see +you loafin' 'round a saloon there'll be a picnic. If you tie the team, +you want to put a halter on the pinto--he's like me, he hates to be +tied; he pulls back. If you hain't got much to do, I think you'd better +make a hitchin'-post of yerself, and not tie 'im." + +She stood up in the wagon, preening her finery, and looking down at her +lover before she gave him her hand. + +"I won't be a hitchin'-post if you hate to be tied," he said, holding +out his hands invitingly. + +As he spoke, the rider of a glittering bicycle glided noiselessly around +the corner, apparently steering straight for Eben's team of ranch-bred +broncos. The pinto snorted wildly, and dashed into the street, jerking +the reins from Parker's hand, and rolling him over in the dust. There +was the customary soothing yell with which civilization always greets a +runaway, and a man sprang from a doorway on the opposite side of the +street, and flung himself in front of the frightened horses. The pinto +reared, but the stranger's hand was on the bridle; a firm and skillful +hand it seemed, for the horses came down on quivering haunches, and then +stood still, striving to look around their blinders in search of the +modern centaur that had terrified them. + +Idy had fallen back into the seat without a word or cry, and sat there +bolt upright, her face so white that it gleamed through the meshes of +her veil. + +"Well," she said, with a long panting breath, "that was a pretty close +call fer kingdom come, wasn't it?" + +The stranger, who was stroking the pinto's nose, and talking to him +coaxingly, laughed. + +"Hello, Park!" he said as the latter came up. "Cold day, wasn't it? Got +your jacket pretty well dusted for once, I guess." + +The crowd that had collected laughed, and two or three bareheaded men +began to examine the harness. While this was in progress, the +livery-stable keeper took a look at the pinto's teeth, and they all +confided liberally in one another as to what they had thought when they +first heard the racket. The young man who had stopped the team left them +in the care of a newcomer, and walked around beside Idy. + +"Won't you come into the office and rest a little?" he asked. + +"Oh, thanks, no," said the girl, with a shuddering, nervous laugh; "I +hain't done nothin' to make _me_ tired. I think you're the one that +ought to take a rest. If it hadn't been fer you I'd been a goner, sure." + +Her rescuer laughed again and turned away, moving his hand involuntarily +toward his head, and discovering that it was bare. The discovery seemed +to amuse him even more highly, and he made two or three strides to where +his hat lay in the middle of the street, and went across to his office, +dusting the hat with long, elaborate flirts of his gayly bordered silk +handkerchief. + +The knot of men began to disperse, and the boys, who lingered longest, +finally straggled away, stifling their regret that no one was mangled +beyond recognition. Parker climbed into the wagon, and drove over to +Saunders's store. + +"I don't know as I'd better buy a jersey to-day," giggled Idy, as she +stepped from the wagon to the elevated wooden sidewalk. "I'm afraid it +won't fit. I feel as if I'd been scared out o' ten years' growth." + + +IV. + +As they drove home in the chill, yellow evening, Idy turned to her +lover, and asked abruptly,-- + +"Who was that felluh?" + +"What felluh?" + +"The young felluh with the sandy _mus_tache, the one that stopped the +team." + +Parker's manner had been evasive from the first, but at this the +evasiveness became a highly concentrated unconcern. He looked across the +lake, and essayed a yawn with feeble success. + +"There was a good many standin' around when I got there. What sort o' +lookin' felluh was he?" + +"I just told ye; with a sandy mustache, short, and middlin' heavy set." + +"Sh-h-h!" said Parker, reaching for his gun. Idy stopped the horses. + +A bronze ibis arose from the tules at the water's edge, and flapped +slowly westward, its pointed wings and hanging feet dripping with the +gold of the sunset. Parker laid down his gun. + +"What did you want to shoot at that thing fer?" asked Idy. "They ain't +fit to eat." + +"The wings is pretty. I thought you might like another feather in your +cap." + +The girl gave him a look of radiant contempt, and he spoke again +hurriedly, anxious to prevent a relapse in the conversation. + +"You was sayin' somethin' to-day about signin' the pledge, Idy: I've +been layin' off to sign the pledge this good while. The next time +there's a meetin' of the W. X. Y. Z. women, you fetch on one o' their +pledges, an' I'll put my fist to it." + +"W. C. T. U.," corrected Idy, with emphasis. + +"All right; W. C. T. me, if that suits you any better. It's a long time +since I learned my letters, an' I get 'em mixed. But I've made up my +mind on the teetotal business, and don't ye forget it." + +"There ain't any danger of _me_ forgettin' it," said the young woman +significantly. "What ye goin' to do about that other business?" she +added, turning her wide eyes upon him abruptly--"about gettin' even with +that cheatin' Barden?" + +They had driven into the purple shadow of the mountains, and Parker +seemed to have left his enthusiasm behind him with the sunlight. + +"I don't know," he said gloomily. "Do ye want me to kill 'im?" + +"_Kill_ him!" sneered the girl; "I want ye _to get even with 'im_! +'Tain't no great trick to kill a man; any fool can do that. I want ye to +get ahead of 'im!" + +She glowed upon him in angry magnificence. + +"Idy," said her lover, sidling toward her tenderly, "when you flare up +that a-way, you mustn't expect me to think about Barden. You look just +pretty 'nough to eat!" + + +V. + +A week later Eben began grubbing out the vineyard. The weather turned +suddenly warm, and the harvest was coming on rapidly. Parker Lowe had +gone to Temecula with Mose Doolittle, who was about to purchase a +machine, presumably feminine, which they both referred to familiarly as +"she," and styled more formally "a second-hand steam-thrasher." It was +Monday, and Idy was putting the week's washing through the wringer with +a loud vocal accompaniment of gospel hymn. + +Eben had worked steadily since sunrise. The vines were young, and the +ground was not heavy, but the day was warm, and he wielded the mattock +rapidly, stooping now and then to jerk out a refractory root with his +hands. An hour before noon his daughter saw him coming through the +apricot orchard, walking wearily, with his soiled handkerchief pressed +to his lips. The girl's voice lost its song abruptly, and then broke out +again in a low, faltering wail. She bounded across the warm plowed +ground to his side. + +"Pappy! O pappy!" she cried, breathing wildly, "what is it? Tell me, +can't you, pappy?" + +The little man smiled at her with his patient eyes, and shook his head. +She put her hand under his elbow, and walked beside him, her arm across +his shoulders, her tortured young face close to his. When they reached +the kitchen door he sank down on the edge of the platform, resting his +head on his hand. The girl took off his weather-beaten hat, and +smoothed the wet hair from his forehead. + +"O pappy! Poor, little, sweet old pappy!" she moaned, rubbing her cheek +caressingly on his bowed head. + +Eben took the handkerchief from his lips, and she started back, crying +out piteously as she saw it stained with blood. He looked up at her, a +gentle, tremulous smile twitching his beard. + +"Don't--tell--your--maw," he said, putting out his hand feebly. + +The words seemed to recall her. She went hurriedly into the house and +close to the lounge where her mother was lying. + +"Maw," she said quickly, "you must get up! Pappy's got a hem'ridge. I +want you to help me to get 'im to bed, an' then I'm goin' fer a doctor." + +The woman got up, and followed her daughter eagerly. + +"Why, Eben!" she said, when they reached the kitchen door. Her voice was +almost womanly; and a real anxiety seemed to have penetrated her +hysterical egoism. + +They got him to bed tenderly, and propped him up among the white +pillows. His knotted hands lay on the coverlet, gray and bloodless +under the stains of hard work. Idy bent over him, tucking him in with +little pats and crooning moans of sympathy. When she had finished, she +dropped her wet cheek against his beard. + +"I'm goin' fer the doctor, pappy," she whispered; "I won't be gone but a +little while,"--then rushed down the path to the stable, and flung the +harness on the pinto. + +The buggy was standing in the shed, and she caught the shafts and +dragged it out with superabundant energy, as if her anxiety found relief +in the exertion. A few minutes later she drove out between the rows of +pallid young eucalyptus-trees that led to the road, leaning eagerly +forward, her young face white and set beneath the row of knobby +protuberances that represented the morning stage of her much cherished +bang. It was thus that she drove into Elsmore, the rattling of the old +buggy and the spots of lather on the pinto's sides exciting a ripple of +curiosity, which furnished its own solution in the fact that it was +"that there Starkweather girl," who was generally conceded to be "a +great one." + +She stopped her panting horse before the doctor's office, and sprang +out. + +"Are you the doctor?" she asked breathlessly, standing on the threshold, +with one hand on each side of the casing. + +A man in his shirt-sleeves, who was writing at the desk, turned and +looked at her. It was the same man who had prevented the runaway. He +began to smile, but the girl's stricken face stopped him. + +"Dr. Patterson has gone to the tin-mine," he said, getting up and coming +forward; "he will not be home till to-morrow." + +Idy grasped the casing so tightly that her knuckles shone white and +polished. + +"My fawther's got a hem'ridge," she said, swallowing after the words. "I +don't know what on earth to do." + +"A hemorrhage!" said the young man with kindly sympathy. "Well, now, +don't be too much alarmed, Miss--" + +"Starkweather," quavered Idy. + +"Starkweather? Oh, it's Mr. Starkweather. Why, he's a friend of mine. +And so you're his daughter. Well, you mustn't be too much alarmed. I've +had a great many hemorrhages myself, and I'm good for twenty years +yet." He had taken his coat from a nail at the back of the room, and was +putting it on hurriedly. "Prop him up in bed, and don't let him talk, +and give him a spoonful of salt-and-water now and then. My horse is +standing outside, and I'll go right down to Maravilla and fetch a +doctor. I'll come up on the other side of the lake, and get there almost +as soon as you do--let me help you into your buggy. And drive right on +home, and don't worry." + +He had put on his hat, and they stood on the sidewalk together. + +Idy made a little impulsive stoop toward him, as if she would have taken +him in her arms. + +"Oh!" she gasped, her eyes swimming, and her chin working painfully; "I +just think you're the very best man I ever saw in all my life!" + +A moment later she saw him driving a tall black horse toward the lake at +a speed that brought her the first sigh of relief she had known, and +made her put up her hand suddenly to her forehead. + +"Good gracious me!" she exclaimed under her breath--"if I didn't forget +to take down my crimps!" + +Two or three times as she drove home through the warm odors of the +harvest noon her anxiety was invaded by the recollection of this man, to +whose promptness and decision her own vigorous nature responded with a +strong sense of liking; and this liking did not suffer any abatement +when he came into her father's sick-room with the doctor, and the +invalid looked at the stranger, and then at her, with a faint, troubled +smile. + +"Don't try to speak, Mr. Starkweather," said the visitor cheerfully; +"I've made your daughter's acquaintance already. We want you to give +your entire attention to getting well, and let us do the talking." + +He went out of the room, and strolled about the place while the doctor +made his call, and when it was over he went around to the kitchen, where +Idy was kindling a fire, and said:-- + +"Doctor Patterson thinks your father will be all right in a day or so, +Miss Starkweather. Be careful to keep him quiet. I'm going to drive +around to the station, so the doctor can catch the evening train, and +save my driving him down to Maravilla; and I'll go on over to Elsmore +and get this prescription filled, and bring the medicine back to you. Is +there anything else you'd like from town--a piece of meat to make +beef-tea, or anything?" + +"Well, I wouldn't mind much if you _would_ bring me a piece of beef," +said Idy, pausing with a stick of redwood kindling across her knee. Then +she dropped it, and came forward. "We're _ever_ so much obliged to +ye--pappy 'n' all of us. Seem 's if you always turn up. I think you've +been just awful good and kind--an' us strangers, too." + +"Oh, you're not strangers," laughed the young man, lifting his hat; +"I've known your father ever since he came." + +He went around the house, and got into the cart with the doctor. +"Starkweather's a crank," he said, as they drove off, "but he's the kind +of crank that makes you wish you were one yourself. When I see a man +like that going off with consumption, and a lot of loafers getting so +fat they crowd each other off the store boxes, I wonder what Providence +is thinking of." + +"He works too hard," growled the doctor, with the savagery of science. +"What can Providence do with a man who grubs greasewood when he ought to +be in bed!" + +It was moonlight when the stranger returned, and handed the packages to +Idy at the kitchen door. + +"Pappy's asleep," she whispered, in answer to his inquiries; "he seems +to be restin' easy." + +"Is there no one about the place but yourself and mother, Miss +Starkweather?" + +Idy shook her head. + +"Well, then, if you don't mind, I think I will put my horse in the barn, +and sleep in the shed here, on the hay. If you should need any one in +the night, you can call me. I haven't an idea but that your father will +be all right, but it's a little more comfortable to have some one within +call." + +"Well," said Idy, dropping her hands at her sides, and looking at him in +admiring bewilderment, "if you ain't just-- Have you had anythin' to +eat?" she broke off, with sudden hospitality. + +"Oh yes, thank you; I had dinner at Elsmore," laughed the young man, +backing out into the shadow. "Good-night." + +Half a minute later she followed him down the walk, carrying a heavy +blanket over her arm. He had led his horse to the water-trough, and the +moonlight shone full upon him as he stood with one arm thrown over the +glossy creature's neck. + +"I brought you this here blanket, Mr.--" + +"Barden," supplied the young man, carelessly. + +Idy sank back against the corral fence as if she were stunned. + +"Barden!" she repeated helplessly. "Is your name Barden?" + +"Yes." + +She stood breathless a moment, and then burst out:-- + +"An' you're him! _you_--an' doin' this way, after the way you've +done--an' him sick--an' me talkin' to ye--an'--an'--everything!" + +The two torrents of hate and gratitude had met, and were whirling her +about wildly. + +The young man pushed his hat back on his head, and stared at her in +sturdy, unflinching amazement. + +"My dear young lady, what on earth do you mean?" he asked quietly. + +"I mean that I didn't know that you was _him_--the man that sold my +father this place, an' lied to him about the vineyard--told him they was +raisin-grapes, an' they wasn't--an' you knowed he was a temp'rance man, +a prohibitionist. An' him tryin' to grub 'em out, an' gettin' sick--an' +bein' so patient, an' never hurtin' nobody--" she ended in a wild, +angry sob that seemed to swallow up her voice. + +"Miss Starkweather," said the young fellow steadily, "I certainly did +sell this place to your father, and if I told him anything about the +vineyard I most certainly told him they were raisin-grapes; and upon my +soul I thought they _were_. Aren't they?" + +"No," sobbed Idy, "they ain't; they're wine-grapes! He was grubbin' 'em +out to-day. That's what hurt 'im--I'm afraid he'll die!" + +"You mustn't be afraid of that. Dr. Patterson says he will get better. +But we must see that he doesn't do any more grubbing. When Slater gave +me this for sale," he went on, as if he were reflecting aloud, "he said +there were ten acres of vineyard. I can't swear that he told me what the +vines were, or that I asked him. But it never occurred to me that any +man--even an Englishman--would plant ten acres of wine-grapes when there +wasn't a winery within fifty miles of him." + + +VI. + +Parker Lowe borrowed one of Mose Doolittle's mules Monday evening, and +rode from Temecula to Jake Levison's saloon at Maravilla. It was +understood when he left the thresher's camp that he would probably "make +a night of it," and Mose gave him a word of friendly warning and advice. + +"You want to remember, Park, that the old man is down on the flowing +bowl; an' from what I've heard of the family I think it'll pay you to +keep yourself solid with the old man." + +"I'm a-goin' up to the drug-store to get some liniment for Dave +Montgomery's lame shoulder," returned Parker, with a knowing wink at +his companion, as he flung himself into the saddle; "but I hain't signed +no pledge yet--not by a jugful," he called back, as the mule jolted +lazily down the road. + +It was a warm night, and half a dozen loafers were seated on empty +beer-kegs in front of Levison's door when Parker rode up. Levison got +up, and began to disengage himself from the blacksmith's story as he saw +the newcomer dismount; but the blacksmith raised his voice insistently. + +"'There don't no dude tell me how to pare a hoof,' says I; 'I'll do it +my way, or I don't do it;' an' I done it, an' him kickin' like a steer +all the time"-- + +"Who?" asked one of the other men. + +"Barden." + +"What was he doin' down here?" + +"He came down for Doc Patterson. That teetotal wreck on the west side o' +the lake took a hem'ridge--I furget his name, somethin'-weather: pretty +dry weather, judgin' from what I hear." + +"Starkweather?" + +"Yes, Starkweather; I guess he's pretty low." + +Parker started back to the post where his mule was tied. Then he turned +and looked into the saloon. Levison had gone in and was wiping off the +counter expectantly. + +"It won't take but a minute," he apologized to himself. + +It took a good many minutes, however, and by the time the minutes +lengthened into hours Parker had ceased to apologize to himself, and +insisted upon taking the by-standers into his confidence. + +"I'm--I'm goin' to sign the pledge," he said, with an unsteady wink, +"an' then I'm goin' to get merried,--yes, sir, boys; rattlin' nice girl, +too,--'way up girl, temperance girl. But there's many a cup 'twixt the +slip and the lip--ain't there, boys? Yes, sir, 'twixt the cup and the +slip--yes, sir--yes, sir--ee." Then his reflections driveled off into +stupor, and he sat on an empty keg with the conical crown of his old +felt hat pointed forward, and his hands hanging limply between his +knees. + +When Levison was ready to leave he stirred Parker up with his foot, and +helped him to mount his mule. The patient creature turned its head +homeward. + +It was after daybreak when Parker rode into the Starkweather ranch, and +presented himself at the kitchen door. The night air had sobered him, +but it had done nothing more. Idy was standing by the stove with her +back toward him. She turned when she heard his step. + +"Why, Park!" she said, with a start; then she put up her hand. "Don't +make a noise. Pappy's sick." + +He came toward her hesitatingly. + +"So I heard down at Maravilla last night, Idy." + +Her face darkened. + +"And you been all night gettin' here?" + +He bent over her coaxingly. + +"Well, you see, Idy"-- + +The girl pushed him away with both hands, and darted back out of reach. + +"Parker Lowe," she said, with a gasp, "you've been drinkin'!" + +Parker hung his head sullenly. + +"No, I hain't," he muttered; "not to speak of. Whose horse is that out +'n the corral?" + +The girl looked at him witheringly. + +"I don't know as it's any of your pertic'lar business, but I don't mind +tellin' you that horse b'longs to _a gentleman_!" + +"A gentleman," sneered Parker. + +"Yes, _a gentleman_; if you don't know what that is you'd better look in +the dictionary. You won't find out by lookin' in the lookin'-glass, I +can tell you that." + +"Oh, come now, Idy, you hadn't ought to be so mad; I hadn't signed the +pledge yet." + +He took a step toward her. The girl put out her hands warningly, and +then clasped her arms about herself with a shudder. + +"Don't you come near me, Parker Lowe," she gasped. "What do I care about +the pledge! Didn't you _tell_ me you'd stop drinkin'? Won't a man that +tells lies with his tongue tell 'em with his fingers? Do you suppose I'd +marry a man that 'u'd come to me smellin' of whiskey, an' _him_ lyin' +sick in there? Can't you see that he's worth ten thousand such folks as +you an' me? I don't want a man that can't see that! I'm done with you, +Parker Lowe,"--her voice broke into a dry sob; "I want you to go away +and stay away! It ain't the drinkin'--it's _him_--can't you understand?" + +And Parker, as he climbed toward his lonesome cabin, understood. + + + + +THE COMPLICITY OF ENOCH EMBODY. + + +I. + +The afternoon train wound through the waving barley-fields of the +Temecula Valley and shrieked its approach to the town of Muscatel. It +was a mixed train, and half a dozen passengers alighted from the rear +coach to stretch their legs while the freight was being unloaded. + +Enoch Embody stood on the platform with the mail-bag in his hand, and +listened to their time-worn pleasantries concerning the population of +the city and the probable cause of the failure of the electric cars to +connect with the train. + +Enoch was an orthodox Friend. There was a hint of orthodoxy all over his +thin, shaven countenance, except at the corners of his mouth, where it +melted into the laxest liberality. + +A swarthy young man, with a deep scar across his cheek, swung himself +from the platform of the smoking-car, and came toward him. + +"Is there a stopping-place in this burg?" he called out gayly. + +"Thee'll find a hotel up the street on thy right," said Enoch. + +The stranger looked at him curiously. + +"By gum, you're a Quaker," he broke out, slapping Enoch's thin, high +shoulder. "I haven't heard a 'thee' or a 'thou' since I was a kid. It's +good for earache. Wait till I get my grip." + +He darted into the little group of men and boys, who were listening with +the grim appreciation of the rural American to the badinage of the +conductor and the station agent, and emerged with a satchel and a roll +of blankets. + +"Now, uncle, I'm ready. Shall we take the elevated up to the city?" he +asked, smiling with gay goodfellowship up into Enoch's mild, austere +face. + +The old man threw the mail-bag across his shoulder. + +"I'll take thee as far as the store. Thee can see most of the city from +there." + +The young fellow laughed noisily, and hooked his arm through his +companion's gaunt elbow. Enoch glanced down at the grimy, broken-nailed, +disreputable hand on his arm, and a faint flush showed itself under the +silvery stubble on his cheeks. + +"By gum, this town's a daisy," said the stranger, sniffing the +honey-laden breeze appreciatively and glancing out over the sea of wild +flowers that waved and shimmered under the California sun; "nice quiet +little place--eh?" + +"Thee hears all the noise there is," answered Enoch gravely. + +The young fellow gave a yell of delight and bent over as if the shaft of +Enoch's wit had struck him in some vital part. Then he disengaged his +arm and writhed in an agony of mirth. + +"Holy Moses!" he gasped, "that's good. Hit 'im again, uncle." + +Enoch stood still and looked at him, a mild, contemptuous sympathy +twinkling in his blue eyes. + +"Is thee looking for a quiet place?" he asked. + +The newcomer reduced his hilarity to an intermittent chuckle, and +resumed his affectionate grasp on Enoch's arm. + +"That's about the size of it, uncle. I've knocked around a good deal, +and I'm suffering from religious prostration. I'm looking for a nice, +quiet, healthy place to take a rest--to recooperate my morals, so to +speak. Good climate, good water, good society. Everything they don't +have in--some places. What's the city tax on first-class residence +property close in?" + +"I think thee'll find it within thy means," said Enoch dryly. "Has thee +a family?" + +"Well, you might say--yes," rejoined the stranger, "that is, I'm +married. My wife's not very well. I want to build a seven by nine +residence on a fashionable street and send for her. I'm going to draw up +the plans and specifications and bid on the contract myself, and I think +by rustling the foreman I can get everything but the telephone and the +hot water in before she gets here. Relic of the ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay?" he +asked, pointing to a vacant store building across the grass-grown +street; "or bought up by the government, maybe, to keep out competition +in the post-office business--hello, is this where you hang out?" + +Enoch turned into the combined store and post-office, and the stranger +stood on the platform, bestowing his tobacco-stained smile generously +upon the bystanders. + +"Thee'll find the hotel a little further up the street," said Enoch; +"there may be no one about; I think I saw Isaac and Esther Penthorn +driving toward Maravilla this afternoon. But they'll be back before +dark. Thee can make thyself at home." + +"You're right I can," assented the newcomer with emphasis; "I see you've +caught on to my disposition. Isaac and Esther will find me as domestic +as a lame cat. Be it ever so homely there's no place like hum. By-by, +uncle; see you later." + +He went up the street, walking as jauntily as his burden would permit, +and Enoch looked after with a lean, whimsical smile. + +"Thee seems to have a good deal of cheek," he reflected, as he emptied +the mail-bag, "but thee's certainly cheerful." + + +II. + +Within a week every resident of Muscatel had heard the sound of Jerry +Sullivan's voice. It arose above the ring of his hammer as he worked at +the pine skeleton of his shanty, and the sage-laden breeze from the +mountains seemed a strange enough vehicle for the questionable +sentiments of his song. New and startling variations of street songs, +and other unfamiliar melodies came to Enoch's ears as he distributed the +mail, or held the quart measure under the molasses barrel, and +occasionally the singer himself dropped in to make a purchase and chat a +few moments with the postmaster concerning the progress of his house. + +"The architect has rather slopped over on the plans," he said, when the +frame was up, "so I'm putting up a Queen Anne wood-shed for the present, +while he knocks a few bay windows out of the conservatory. 'A penny +saved 's a penny earned,' you know. That's the way I came to be a +millionaire--stopped drinking in my infancy and learned to chew, saved a +rattleful of nickels before I could walk--got any eighteen-carat nails, +uncle? I want to do a little finishing-work in the bath-room." + +Enoch met his new friend's trifling, always with the same gentle +gravity; but something, perhaps that lurking liberality about the +corners of his mouth, seemed to inspire the young fellow with implicit +confidence in the old man's sympathy. + +After the frame of Jerry's domicile was inclosed, a prodigious sawing +and hammering went on inside the redwood walls, and the bursts of music +were spasmodic, indicating a closer attention on the part of the workman +to nicety of detail in his work. He called to Enoch as he was passing +one day, and drew him inside the door mysteriously. + +"Take a divan, uncle," he said airily, pushing a three-legged stool +toward his guest. "I've got something to show you,--something that's +been handed up to me from posterity. How does that strike you for a +starter in the domestic business?" + +He drew forward an empty soap-box, fashioned into an old-time cradle, +and fitted with rude rockers at the ends. + +"Happy thought--eh?" he rattled on, gleefully pointing to the stenciled +end, where everything but "Pride of the Family" had been carefully +erased. "How's this for a proud prospective paternal?" + +He balanced himself on one foot and rocked the little craft, with all +its cargo of pathetic emptiness, gently to and fro. + +Enoch's face quivered as if he had been stabbed. + +The young fellow stepped back and surveyed his handiwork with jaunty +satisfaction. + +"I made that thing just as a bird builds its nest--by paternal instinct. +It's a little previous, and I'd just as soon you wouldn't mention it; +but I had to show it to somebody. Got any children?" he turned upon +Enoch suddenly. + +"No. Not any--living." + +The old man's voice wavered, and caught itself on the last word. + +Jerry thrust the cradle aside hastily. + +"Neither have I, uncle, neither have I," he said; "not chick nor child. +If you ain't too tired, let me show you over the house. I'm sorry the +elevator isn't running, so you could go up to the cupolo. This room's a +sort of e pluribus unum, many in one; kind of a boodwar and kitchen +combined. The other rooms ain't inclosed yet, but they're safe enough +outside. That's the advantage of this climate, you don't have to put +everything under cover. Ground-plan suit you pretty well?" + +"I think thee's very cosy," Enoch said, smiling gravely; "when does thee +look for thy wife?" + +"Just as soon as she's able," said Jerry, drawing an empty nail-keg +confidentially toward Enoch and seating himself; "you see"-- + +He stopped short. The cradle behind the old man was still rocking +gently. + +"I guess it won't be very long," he added indifferently. + + +III. + +The south-bound train was late, and the few loafers who found their +daily excitement in its arrival had drifted away as it grew dark, +leaving no one but Enoch on the platform. When the train whistled the +station agent opened the office door and his kerosene lamp sent a shaft +of light out into the darkness. + +There was the usual noisy banter among the trainmen, and none of them +seemed to notice the woman who alighted from the platform of the +passenger coach and came toward Enoch. + +She stood in the light of the doorway, so that the old man could see her +tawdry dress and the travel-dimmed red and white of her painted face. + +"Is there a man named Jerry Sullivan livin' in this town?" she asked. + +Enoch was conscious of a vague disappointment. + +"Yes," he said, half reluctantly, "he lives here. I suppose thee's his +wife." + +The woman looked at him curiously. Then she laughed. + +"Yes, I suppose I am," she said; "can you show me where he lives?" + +"I can't show thee very well in the dark, but it isn't far. If thee'll +wait a minute, I'll take thy satchel and go with thee." + +He brought the mail-bag and picked up the stranger's valise. + +"Thy husband's been looking for thee," he said, as they went along the +path that led across a vacant lot to the street. + +The woman did not reply at once. She seemed intent upon gathering her +showy skirts out of the dust. When she spoke, her voice trembled on the +verge of a laugh. + +"That so? I've been lookin' for him, too. Thought I'd give him a +pleasant surprise." + +"He's got his house about finished." + +The woman stopped in the path. + +"His house," she sneered; "he must be rattled if he thinks I'll live in +a place like this--forty miles from nowhere." + +They walked on in silence after that to the door of Jerry's shanty. +There was a light inside, and the smell of cooking mingled with the +resinous odor of the new lumber. Jerry was executing a difficult passage +in a very light opera to the somewhat trying accompaniment of frying +ham. The solo stopped abruptly when Enoch knocked. + +"Come in," shouted the reckless voice of the singer, "let the good +angels come in, come in!" + +Enoch opened the door. + +"Good-evening, Jerry," he said gravely; "here is thy wife." + +The young fellow crossed the floor at a bound with a smile that stayed +on his face after every vestige of joy had died out of it. + +The woman gave him a coarse, triumphant stare. + +"I heard you was lookin' for me," she said, with a chuckle, "but you +seemed kind o' s'prised after all." + +Jerry stood perfectly still, with his hands at his sides. Behind him, +where the light fell full upon it, Enoch could see the cradle. The old +man placed the satchel on the step. + +"I must go back and attend to the mail," he said, disappearing in the +darkness. + +A few hours later, just as Enoch had fitted the key in the store door +and turned down the kerosene lamp, preparatory to blowing it out, Jerry +appeared in the doorway. + +"I've got to go away on the early train," he said, in a dull, husky +voice; "she's going with me. I don't know how long I'll be gone, and I +thought I'd like to leave the key of the house with you, if it won't be +too much trouble." + +"It won't be any trouble, Jerry. I'll take care of it for thee," said +Enoch. + +The hand that held out the key seemed to Enoch to be stretched toward +him across a chasm. He felt a yearning disgust for the man on the other +side. + +Jerry walked across the platform hesitatingly, and then came back. + +"Would you mind locking up and coming outside, Mr. Embody?" he asked +humbly; "I'd like to have a little talk with you." + +Enoch blew out the lamp and closed the door and locked it. He felt a +physical shrinking from the moral squalor into which he was being +dragged. + +"What is it, Jerry?" he asked kindly. + +"I've been thinking," said the young man hurriedly, and in the same +level, monotonous voice, "that families sometimes come to these new +places without having any house ready, and of course it's a good deal of +expense for them to board, and I just wanted to say to you that if any +person--well, say a widow with a b--family--I wouldn't care to help a +man that could rustle for himself--but a woman, you know, if she's not +very strong, and has a--a--family--why, I'd just as soon you'd let her +have the house, and you needn't say anything about the rent: I'll fix +that when I come back. I haven't been to church and put anything in the +collection since I've been here,"--his voice gave a suggestion of the +old ring, and then fell back drearily,--"so I thought I'd hand you what +I'd saved up, and you can use it for charitable purposes--groceries and +little things that people might need, coming in without anything to +start." + +He handed Enoch a roll of money, and the old man put it into his pocket. + +"I'll remember what thee says, Jerry. If any worthy family comes along, +I'll see that they do not want." + +"If I can, I'll send you a little now and then," the young fellow went +on more cheerfully, "but I'd just as soon you wouldn't mention it. I'll +be back sometime, there's no doubt about that, but I can't say just +when. You can tell the folks that my--my wife," he choked on the word, +"didn't feel satisfied here. She thinks it won't agree with her. And I +guess it won't, she's very bad off"--he turned away lingeringly, and +then came back. "About the--the--crib," he faltered, "if they happen to +have a baby, I wouldn't mind them using it. Babies are pretty generally +respectable, no matter what their folks are. I _was_ calculating," he +went on wistfully, "to get another box and hunt up some wheels, and I +thought maybe they could rig it up with a pink parasol and use it to +cart the baby 'round; you know if a woman isn't very strong, it might +save her a good deal--but then it's too late now;" he turned away +hopelessly. + +"I guess I can manage that for thee, Jerry," said Enoch; "I'm rather +handy with tools. Thee needn't worry." + +The two men stood still a moment in the moonlight. + +"Good-by, Mr. Embody," said Jerry. + +He did not put out his hand. Enoch hesitated a little. + +"Farewell," he said, and his voice was not quite natural. + +The next morning, when Enoch opened the outside letter-box to postmark +the mail that had been dropped into it after the store was closed the +night before, he found but one letter. It was addressed to Mrs. Josie +Hart Sullivan, Pikeboro, Mo + + +IV. + +"Are you the postmaster?" + +Enoch dropped the tin scoop into the sugar-bin, and turned around. The +voice was timid, almost appealing, and Enoch glanced from the pale, +girlish face that confronted him to the bundle in her arms. + +There was no mistaking the bundle. It was of that peculiar bulky +shapelessness which betokens a very small infant. + +"Yes, I'm the postmaster," answered Enoch kindly; "is there anything I +can do for thee?" + +The young creature looked down, and a faint color came into her +transparent face. + +"I've just come in on the train," she faltered. "I thought you might be +able to tell me where to go. I haven't very much money. I was sick on +the way, and spent more than I expected. I--I"--she hesitated, and +glanced at Enoch with a little expectant gasp. + +"Is thee alone?" inquired the old man. + +"Yes. That is--only Baby. My husband has just--just"--her voice +fluttered and died away helplessly. + +"Oh, thee's a widow," said Enoch gently. + +"Yes." The poor young thing looked up with a smile of wistful gratitude. +"I'm not very strong. I heard this was a healthy place. They thought it +would be good for us--Baby and me. I'm Mrs. Josie Hart. Baby's name is +Gerald." + +"Would thee be afraid to stay in a house alone?" inquired Enoch +thoughtfully. + +The stranger gave him a look of gentle surprise. + +"Why, no, of course not--not with Baby; he's so much company." + +There was a note of profound compassion for his masculine ignorance in +her young voice. + +The old man's mouth quivered into a smile. He went to the back of the +room, and took a key from a nail. + +"I think I can find thee a real cosy little place," he said; "shan't I +carry the baby for thee?" + +She hesitated, and looked up into his solemn, kindly face. Then she held +the precious bundle toward him. + +"I guess I'll have to let you. I didn't really know it till I got here, +but I begin to feel, oh! so awful tired," she said, with a long, sighing +breath, as Enoch folded his gaunt arms about the baby. + +They went up the street together, and Enoch unlocked Jerry's house and +showed the stranger in. She walked straight across the room to the +cradle. When she turned around her eyes were swimming. + +"Oh, I think it's just _lovely_ here," she said; "I feel better already. +This is such a nice little house, and so many wild flowers everywhere, +and they smell so sweet--I _know_ Baby will like it." + +She relieved Enoch of his burden and laid it on the bed. + +The old man lingered a little. + +"Thee needn't worry about provisions or anything," he said hesitatingly; +"some of the neighbors will come in and help thee get started. Thee'll +want to rest now. I guess I'll be going." + +"Oh, you mustn't go without seeing Baby!" insisted the young mother, +beginning to unswathe the shapeless bundle on the bed. + +Enoch moved nearer, and waited until the tiny crumpled bud of a face +appeared among the wrappings. + +"_Isn't_ he sweet?" pleaded the girl rapturously. + +Enoch bent over and gazed into the quaint little sleeping countenance. + +"He's a very nice baby," he said, with gentle emphasis. + +"And _so_ good," the girl-voice rippled on; "he never cried but once on +the way out here, and that time I didn't blame him one bit; I wanted to +cry myself,--we were so hot and tired and dusty. But he sleeps--oh, the +way he _does_ sleep. There! did you notice him smile? I think he knows +my voice. He often smiles that way when I am talking to him." + +She caught him out of his loosened sheath and held him against her +breast with the look on her face that has baffled the art of so many +centuries. + +It was thus that Enoch remembered her as he went down the street to the +store. + +"I would have taken her right home to Rachel," he said to himself, "but +women folks sometimes ask a good many unnecessary questions, and the +poor thing is tired." + + +V. + +So the little widow and her baby became the wards of the town of +Muscatel. After one or two unsuccessful attempts to learn the +particulars of her husband's last illness, the good women of the place +decided that her bereavement was too recent to be made a subject of +conversation. + +The baby, on the contrary, being a topic all the more absorbing by +reason of its newness, they held long and enthusiastic conferences with +the young mother concerning his care, clothing, and diet. With that +gentle receptivity which makes some natures the defenseless targets of +advice, the inefficient little mother felt herself at times between the +upper and the nether millstones of condensed milk and Caudle's food, but +her weak, appealing face always brightened into tremulous delight when +the rival factions united, as they invariably did, on the subject of the +baby's undoubted precocity in the matter of "noticing." + +Enoch was called in many times to give counsel which seemed to gain from +his masculinity what it might be supposed to lack by reason of his +ignorance concerning the ailments and accomplishments of the small +stranger who held the heart of the community in his tiny purple fist. It +was to Enoch that the young mother brought her small woes, and it was +with Enoch that she left them. + +The song of the hay-balers and the whir of the threshing-machine had +died out of the valley, and the raisin-making had come on. The trays +were spread in the vineyards, and the warm white air was filled with the +fruity smell of the grapes, browning and sweetening beneath the October +sun. + +One drowsy afternoon Enoch was in the back room of the store, weighing +barley and marking the weight on the sacks. Suddenly there was a quick +step, and a voice in the outer room, and the old man turned slowly, with +the brush in his hand, and confronted a man in the doorway. + +"Jerry!" + +"Yes, uncle, here I am; slightly disfigured, but still in the ring. +How's the market? Long on barley, I see. I"--he broke off suddenly, and +assumed an air of the deepest dejection. "I've had a great deal of +trouble since I saw you, uncle. I've lost my wife." + +He turned to the window and pretended to look through the cobwebbed +glass. + +"She went off very sudden, but she was conscious to the last." + +Enoch stood still and slowly stirred the paint in the paint-pot until +his companion turned and caught the glance of his keen blue eye. + +"Does thee think she will stay lost, Jerry?" he asked quietly. + +The young fellow came close to Enoch's side. + +"You bet," he said, with low, husky intensity; "the law settled that. +She was a cursed fraud anyway," he went on, with hurrying wrath; "she +ran away with--I thought she was dead--I'll swear by"-- + +"Thee needn't swear, Jerry," interrupted Enoch quietly; "if thy word is +good for nothing, thy blasphemy will not help it any." + +The young man's face relaxed. There was a little silence. + +"Has thee been up to thy house?" asked Enoch presently. + +"Yes, yes," said Jerry lightly; "I dropped right in on the family +circle. The widow seems to be a nice, tidy little person, and the +kid--did you ever see anything to beat that kid, uncle?" + +Enoch had been appealed to on this subject before. + +"He's a very nice baby," he said gravely. + +"They seem to be settled rather comfortably, and I guess I'll get a tent +and pitch it on some of these vacant lots, and not disturb them. The +little woman isn't really well enough to move, and besides, the kid +might kick if he had to give up the cradle; perfect fit, isn't it?" + + * * * * * + +"Enoch," said Rachel Embody to her husband, as they drove their +flea-bitten gray mare to the Friends' meeting on First Day, "what does +thee think of Jerry Sullivan and the widow Hart marrying as they did? +Doesn't thee think it was a little sudden for both of them?" + +Enoch slapped the lines on the gray's callous back. + +"I don't know, Rachel," he said; "there are some subjects which I do not +find profitable for reflection." + + + + +EM. + + +I. + +Mrs. Wickersham helped her son from his bed to a chair on the porch, and +spread a patchwork quilt over his knees when he was seated. + +"Don't you want something to put your feet on, Benny?" she asked +anxiously, with that hunger for servitude with which women persecute +their male sick. + +The invalid looked down at his feet helplessly, and then turned his eyes +toward the stretch of barley-stubble below the vineyard. A stack of +baled hay in the middle of the field cast a dense black shadow in the +afternoon sun. + +"No, I guess not," he said absently. "Has Lawson sent any word about the +hay?" + +"He said he'd come and look at it in a day or two." + +Mrs. Wickersham stood behind her son, smoothing the loose wrinkles from +his coat with her hard hand. He was scarcely more than a boy, and his +illness had given him that pathetic gauntness which comes from the +wasting away of youth and untried strength. + +"I wanted a little money before the twenty-fourth," he said, feeling one +feverish hand with the other awkwardly. "I can't seem to get used to +being sick. I thought sure I'd be ready for the hay-baling." + +"The doctor says you're doing real well, Benny," asserted the woman +bravely. "I guess if it ain't very much you want, we can manage it." + +"It's only five dollars." + +Mrs. Wickersham went back to the kitchen and resumed her dish-washing. +Her daughter came out of the pantry where she had been putting away the +cups. She was taller than her mother, and looked down at her with +patronizing deference. + +"Do you think that new medicine's helping Ben any?" she asked in an +undertone. + +"Oh, I don't know, Emmy," the poor woman broke out desperately; +"sometimes I think his cough's a little looser, but he's getting to have +that same look about the eyes that your pa had that last winter"--Mrs. +Wickersham left her work abruptly, and went and stood in the doorway +with her back toward her daughter. + +The girl took up her mother's deserted task, and went on with it +soberly. + +"Shall I put on some potatoes for yeast?" she asked, after a little +heart-breaking silence. + +"Yes, I guess you'd better," answered the older woman; "there's only the +best part of a loaf left, and Benny hadn't ought to eat fresh bread." + +She came back to her work, catching eagerly at the homely suggestion of +duty. + +"I'll finish them," she said, taking a dish out of her daughter's hand; +"you brighten up the fire and get the potatoes." + +The girl walked away without looking up. When she came into the room a +little later with an armful of wood, Mrs. Wickersham was standing by the +stove. + +"Emmy," she said in a whisper, taking hold of her daughter's dress and +drawing her toward her, "don't tell your brother I had to pay cash to +the balers. It took all the ready money I had in the house: I'd rather +he didn't know it." + +"What's the matter, mother?" asked the girl, looking steadily into the +older woman's worried face. + +"He wants five dollars next week," whispered Mrs. Wickersham, nodding +toward the door; "I hain't got it." + +The girl threw the wood into the woodbox and stood gazing intently at +it. She had a quaint, oval face, and the smooth folds of her dark hair +made a triangle of her high forehead. Two upright lines formed +themselves in the triangle as she gazed. She turned away without +speaking, and took a pan from the shelf and went into the shed-room for +potatoes. When she came back, she walked to her mother's side, and said +in a low voice,-- + +"You needn't worry about the money any more, mother. I'll get it for +Ben." + +"_You_, Em!" + +"Yes; I'm going over to Bassett's raisin-camp to pick grapes." + +"Oh, I don't think I'd do _that_, Emmy!" + +"Why, what's wrong about it?" + +"There's nothing wrong about it, of course; I didn't mean that. Only it +seems so--so kind of strange. None of the women folks in our family's +ever done anything of that kind." + +"Then the women folks in our family will have to begin. I can get a +dollar a day. The Burnham girls went, and they're as good as we are. I'm +going, anyway,"--the girl's red lips shut themselves in a narrow line. + +"Oh, they're all _good_ enough, Emmy," protested Mrs. Wickersham; "it's +nothing against them, only it's going out to work. You know the way men +folks feel--I don't know what your brother will say." + +"You can tell him I've set my heart on it. They have great fun over +there. He wanted me to go camping to the beach with the same crowd of +young folks this summer. I'll not stay at night, mother; I'll walk home +every evening. It's no use saying anything, I'm going." + +"Is Steve Elliott at the camp?" asked Benny, when his mother told him. + +"She didn't say anything about him, Benny, but I suppose he is. Why?" + +"I guess that explains it," said the invalid, smiling wistfully. + + +II. + +Nearly every available grape-picker in the little valley was at +Bassett's vineyard. There was a faint murmur of surprise when Em walked +into the camp on Monday morning. + +"I thought you weren't coming, Em," said Irene Burnham, curving her +smooth, sunburned neck away from the tall young fellow who stood beside +her. + +"I changed my mind," said Em quietly. + +"It's awful hot work," giggled Irene, "and I always burn so; I wish I +tanned. But I'm going to hold out the rest of this week, if I burn to a +cinder." + +"'Rene's after a new parasol," announced her brother teasingly; "she's +bound to save her complexion if it takes the skin off." + +The young people gave a little shout of delight, and straggled down the +aisles of the vineyard. The thick growth had fallen away from the +gnarled trunks of the vines, and the grapes hung in yellowing clusters +to the warm, sun-dried earth. The trays were scattered in uneven rows on +the plowed ground between the vines, their burden turning to sweetened +amber in the sunshine. The air was heavy with the rich, fruity ferment +of the grapes. Bees were beginning to drone among the trays. The +mountains which hemmed in the little valley were a deep, velvety blue in +the morning light. Em looked at them with a new throb in her heart. She +did not care what was beyond them as she walked between the tangled +vine-rows. Stephen Elliott had left Irene, and walked beside her. The +valley was wide enough for Em's world,--a girl's world, which is hemmed +in by mountains always, and always narrow. + +As the day advanced the gay calls of the grape-harvesters grew more and +more infrequent. The sky seemed to fade in the glare of the sun to a +pale, whitish blue. Buzzards reeled through the air, as if drunken with +sunlight. The ashen soil of the vineyard burned Em's feet and dazzled +her eyes. She stood up now and then and looked far down the valley where +the yellow barley-stubble shimmered off into haze. As she looked, +something straightened her lips into a resolute line and sent her back +to her work with softened eyes. + +"Do you get very tired, Em?" her brother asked, as she sat in the +doorway at nightfall. + +The girl leaned her head against the casement as if to steady her weary +voice. + +"Not very," she said slowly and gravely; "it's a little warm at noon, +but I don't mind it." + +"I thought sure I'd be up by this time," fretted the invalid, the +yearning in his heart that pain could not quench turning his sympathy to +envy. + +"The doctor says you're getting on real well, Ben," said Em steadily. + +The young fellow looked down at his wasted hands, gray and ghostly in +the twilight. + +"Was 'Rene there?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"It isn't like having your sister go out to work, Benny," said Mrs. +Wickersham soothingly; "just the neighbors, and real nice folks, too. I +wouldn't fret about it." + +On Wednesday morning, as Em neared the camp, she saw the grape-pickers +gathered in a little group before the girls' tent. Steve Elliott +separated himself from the crowd, and came to meet her. + +"We've struck, Em," he said, smiling down at her from the shadow of his +big hat. + +"Who's we?" asked Em gravely. + +"All of us. They're paying a dollar and a quarter over at Briggs's; we +ain't a-goin' to stand it." + +Em had stopped in the path. The young fellow stepped behind her, and she +went on. + +"Why don't you all go over to Briggs's and go to work?" she asked, +without turning her head. + +"Too far--the foreman'll come to time." + +They came up to the noisy group, and Em seated herself on a pile of +trays and loosened the strings of her wide hat; she was tired from her +walk, and the pallor of her face made her lips seem redder. + +Irene Burnham crossed over to the newcomer, shrugging herself with +girlish self-consciousness. + +"Isn't it just too mean, Em?" she panted; "I know they'll discharge us. +That means good-by to my new parasol; I've been dying for one all +summer, a red silk one"-- + +"Let up on the parasol racket, Sis," called one of the Burnham boys; +"business is business." + +The hum of the young voices went on, mingled with gay, irresponsible +laughter. Em got up and began to tie her hat. + +"Where are you going?" asked one of the girls. + +"I'm going to work." + +"To work! why, we've struck!" + +"I haven't," said Em soberly. "I'm willing to work for a dollar a day." + +There was a little cry of dismay from the girls; Steve Elliott's tanned +face flushed a coppery red. + +"You ain't goin' back on us, Em?" he said angrily. + +"I ain't going back on my word," answered the girl; "you needn't work if +you don't want to; this is a free country." + +"It isn't, though,"' said Ike Burnham; "the raisin men have a +ring--there's no freedom where there's rings." + +"I suppose they go into them because they want to," said Em, setting her +lips. + +"They go into them because they'd get left if they didn't." + +"Well, if I was a raisin man," persisted the girl quietly, "and wanted +to go into a ring, I'd do it; but if anybody undertook to boss me into +it, they'd have the same kind of a contract on hand that you've got." +She turned her back on the little group and started toward the vineyard. + +Irene had drifted toward Steve Elliott's side and was smiling +expectantly up into his bronzed face. He broke away from her glance and +strode after the retreating figure. + +"Em!" The girl turned quickly. + +"Oh, Steve!" she cried, with a pleading sob in her voice. + +"Em, you're making a fool of yourself!" he broke out cruelly. + +The curve in the red lips straightened. + +"Let me alone!" she gasped, putting up her hand to her throat. "If I'm +to be made a fool of, I'd rather do it myself. I guess I can stand it, +if you'll let me alone!" + + +III. + +When Bassett's foreman rode into the vineyard at noon to talk with the +strikers, he saw a wide brown hat moving slowly among the vine-rows. + +"Who's that?" he asked, pointing with his whip. + +"Em Wickersham," said one of the group sullenly. + +The foreman turned his horse's head, and galloped down the furrow. + +"Miss Wickersham." + +Em straightened herself, and pushed back her hat. + +"You don't want to give up your job?" + +The girl shaded her eyes with her hand. There was an unsteady movement +of her chin before she spoke. + +"I'd like to work till Friday night," she said. + +"Well, I'd like to keep you; but I don't know how it will be. I won't +stand any of their nonsense,"--he jerked his head toward the camp; "I'm +going to send over to Aliso Canon for a wagon-load of pickers. I'm +pretty certain I can get them, but they'll all be men; you might find it +a little unpleasant." + +"Who are they?" asked Em. + +"Only a lot of ranchers picked up over the neighborhood," said the +foreman. "I think I can find enough men and boys who are through +harvesting. I'll try anyway." + +"Will you be here all the time?" asked the girl. + +"All of to-morrow and most of Friday," he answered, wondering a little. + +"Well, I guess if you don't care, I'll stay; I guess they won't hurt +me,"--the wraith of a smile flitted across her face. + +"All right." The foreman urged his horse forward. + +"The Wickershams must be hard pressed," he said to himself; "the girl +looks pale. Confound those young rascals!" + +Across at the camp Em could hear laughter and snatches of song. The soft +rustle of the grape-leaves in the tepid breeze seemed to emphasize the +stillness about her. Now and then a quail, tilting its queer little +crest, scurried across the furrows and whirred out of sight. Pink-footed +doves ran along the edge of the vineyard, mourning plaintively. The girl +worked on without faltering, looking down the valley now and then +through a blur that was not haze, and seeing always something there that +dulled the pain of her loneliness. + +The day wore on. Em had eaten her lunch alone, in the shadow of the +cypress hedge. As the afternoon advanced and the sea-breeze wandered +over the mountains in fitful gusts, the campers trooped homeward, still +laughing and calling to each other with reckless shouts. Em straightened +her aching limbs, and watched them as they went. 'Rene's pink dress +fluttered close to the tallest form among them, loitering a little, and +standing out in silhouette against the afternoon sky at the end of the +straggling procession as it disappeared over the hilltop. + + +IV. + +It was Friday evening, and Em laid five silver dollars on the kitchen +table beside her mother. + +"You can give that to Ben," she said wearily. + +Mrs. Wickersham glanced from the money to her daughter's dusty shoes, +and set, colorless face. + +"Emmy, I'm afraid you've overdone," she said with a start. + +"No, I haven't," answered the girl without flinching; "it's been a +little hard yesterday and to-day, and I'm tired, that's all. Don't tell +Ben." + +"Are you too tired to go to the church sociable this evening?" pursued +the mother anxiously. + +"Yes, I believe I am." + +"I saw Steve Elliott and 'Rene Burnham driving that way a few minutes +ago. I thought they was over at the camp." Mrs. Wickersham had resumed +her work and had her back toward her daughter. + +"They weren't there to-day," said Em listlessly. + +"Does she go with him much?" + +There was a rising resentment in Mrs. Wickersham's voice. Em glanced at +her anxiously. + +"I don't know," she faltered. + +"I don't see how she can act so!" the older woman broke out indignantly. + +The girl's face turned a dull white; she opened her lips to breathe. + +"I used to think she liked Benny," Mrs. Wickersham went on, speaking in +a heated undertone. "I should think she'd be ashamed of herself." + +Em's voice came back. + +"I don't believe Ben cares, mother," she said soothingly. + +"I don't care if he doesn't, she'd ought to," urged Mrs. Wickersham, +with maternal logic. + +There was a sound of strained, ineffectual coughing in the front room. +Mrs. Wickersham left her work and hurried away. When she came back Em +was sitting on the doorstep with her forehead in her hands. + +"Benny's got a notion he could drive over to the store to-morrow," her +mother began excitedly; "he's got something in his head. He thinks if +Joe Atkinson would bring their low buggy--I'm sure I don't know what to +say;" the poor woman's voice trembled with responsibility. + +Em got up with a quick, decisive movement. + +"Don't say anything, mother. If Ben wants to go, he's got to go. I'll +run over to Atkinson's right away." + +Mrs. Wickersham caught her daughter's arm. + +"No, no; not to-night. He said in the morning, he must be better, don't +you think so, Emmy?" she pleaded. + +"Of course," said Em fiercely. Then she turned and fastened a loosened +hairpin in her mother's disordered hair. Even a caress wore its little +mask of duty with Em. "Of course he's better, mother," she said more +gently. + + +V. + +It was Sunday, and the little valley was still with the stillness of +warm, drowsy, quiescent life. At noon, the narrow road stretching +between the shadowless barley-fields was haunted by slender, hurrying +spirals of dust, like phantoms tempted by the silence to a wild frolic +in the sunlight. The white air shimmered in wavy lines above the +stubble. Em shut her eyes as she came out of the little church, as if +the glare blinded her. Steve was waiting near the door, and a sudden, +unreasoning hope thrilled her heart. He was looking for some one. She +could hear the blood throbbing in her temples. He took a step forward. +Then a red silken cloud shut out her sun, and the riot died out of her +poor young heart. 'Rene was smiling up into his sunburned face from +the roseate glory of her new parasol. Em walked home through the +sunlight with the echo of their banter humming in her ears. + +Ben sat on the porch watching for her, a feverish brightness in his +sunken eyes. + +"Was 'Rene at church?" he asked eagerly. + +"Yes, Ben." + +Em stood behind his chair, looking down at the cords of his poor, wasted +neck. Her eyelids burned with hot, unshed tears. + +"Did she look nice--did she have anything new?" + +"Yes, she had a new parasol. She looked real pretty." The girl spoke +with dull, unfeeling gentleness. Ben tried to turn and look up into her +face. + +"She's been wanting it all summer. I told her 'way long in the spring +that I'd get it for her birthday. I wonder if she forgot it? I didn't +have any idea I'd be laid up this way." + +Em stood perfectly still. + +"I'll bet she was surprised, Em," he went on wistfully; "do you think +she'll come over and say anything about it?" + +"She'd better," said Em, setting her teeth in her bright under lip. + +The invalid gave a little, choking cough, and looked out across the +valley. A red spot was moving through the stubble toward the house. He +put up his hot hand and laid it on Em's cold fingers. + +"Mother tried to fool me about the money," he said feebly, "but I think +I know where she got it. I don't mean to forget it either, Em. I'll pay +it back just as soon as I get up." + +"Yes, Ben." + +The girl dropped her cheek on his head with a little wailing sob. + +"Yes, Ben, I ain't a bit afraid about my pay." Then she slipped her hand +from under his and went into the house. + +The red spot was drawing nearer. Mrs. Wickersham glanced through the +open window at her son. + +"Benny's looking brighter than I've seen him in a long time," she +thought. "I guess his ride yesterday done him good." + +And in her little room Em sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the +wall through blinding tears. + +"I wish I had it all to do over again," she said. "I'd do it all--even +if I knew--for Ben!" + + + + +COLONEL BOB JARVIS. + + +I. + +We were sojourning between Anaheim and the sea. There was a sunshiny +dullness about the place, like the smiles of a vapid woman. The bit of +vineyard surrounding our whitewashed cabin was an emerald set in the +dull, golden-brown plain. Before the door an artesian well glittered in +the sun like an inverted crystal bowl. Esculapius called the spot +Fezzan, and gradually I came to think the well a fountain, and the +sunburnt waste about us a stretch of yellow sand. + +When I had walked to the field of whispering corn behind the house, and +through the straggling vines to the edge of the vineyard in front, I +came back to where my invalid sat beneath the feathery acacias, dreaming +in happy lonesomeness. + +"Did you ever see such placid, bright, ethereal stillness?" I asked. + +Esculapius took his cigar from his lips and looked at me pensively. + +"It may be my misfortune, I hope it is not my fault, but I do not +remember to have seen stillness of any sort." + +Esculapius has but one shortcoming--he is not a poet. I never wound him +by appearing to notice this defect, so I sat down on the dry burr-clover +and made no reply. + +"You think it is still," he went on in a mannish, instructive way, "but +in fact there are a thousand sounds. At night, when it is really quiet, +you will hear the roar of the ocean ten miles away. Hark!" + +Our host was singing far down in the corn. He was a minister, a +deep-toned Methodist, brimming over with vocal piety. + + "Nearer the great white throne, + Nearer the jasper sea,"-- + +came to us in slow, rich cadences. + +The fern-like branches above us stirred softly against the blue. Little +aromatic whiffs came from the grove of pale eucalyptus-trees near the +house. Esculapius diluted the intoxicating air with tobacco smoke and +remained sane, but as for me the sunshine went to my head, and whirled +and eddied there like some Eastern drug. + +"My love," I said wildly, "if we stay here very long and nothing +happens, I shall do something rash." + +The next morning a huge derrick frowned in the dooryard, and a +picturesque group of workmen lounged under the acacias. The well had +ceased to flow. + +Esculapius called me to a corner of the piazza, and spoke in low, +hurried tones. + +"Something has happened," he said; "the well has stopped. I thought it +might relieve your feelings to get off that quotation about the golden +bowl and the wheel, and the pitcher, and the fountain, etc.; then, if it +is safe to leave you, I would like to go hunting." + +I looked at him with profound compassion. + +"I have forgotten the quotation," I said, "but I think it begins: 'The +grinders shall cease because they are few.' Perhaps you had better take +your shotgun, and don't forget your light overcoat. Good-by." + +Then I took a pitcher and went down the walk to the disglorified well. +The musical drip on the pebbles was hushed; the charm of our oasis had +departed. In its place stood a length of rusty pipe full of standing +water. Some bits of maiden's-hair I had placed in reach of the cool +spray yesterday were already withered in the sun. I took the gourd from +its notch in the willows sadly. Some one had been before me and carved +"Ichabod" on its handle. I filled my pitcher and turned to go. A tall +form separated itself from the group of workmen and came gallantly +forward. + +"Madame," said a rich, hearty voice, "if you'll just allow me, I'll +tackle that pitcher and tote it in for you. Jarvis is my name, Colonel +Bob Jarvis, well-borer. We struck a ten-inch flow down at Scranton's +last week, and rather knocked the bottom out of things around here." + +"But the pitcher isn't at all heavy, Colonel Jarvis." + +"Oh, never mind that: anything's too heavy for a lady; that's my +sentiments. You see, I'm a ladies' man,--born and brought up to it. +Nursed my mother and two aunts and a grandmother through consumption, +and never let one of 'em lift a finger. 'Robert,' my mother used to +say, in her thin, sickly voice, 'Robert, be true to God and the women;' +and, by godfrey, I mean to be." + +I relinquished the pitcher instantly. Esculapius was right; something +had happened. The well was gone, but in its place I had found something +a thousand times more refreshing. When my husband returned, he found me +sitting breathless and absorbed under the acacias. + +"Hush!" I said, with upraised finger; "listen!" + +Our host and the colonel were talking as they worked at the well. + +"We've had glorious meetings this week over at Gospel Swamp, Jarvis," +the minister was saying. "I looked for you every night. If you could +just come over and hear the singing, and have some of the good brothers +and sisters pray with you, don't you think"-- + +"Why, God bless your soul, man!" interrupted the colonel; "don't you +know I'm religious? I'm with you right along, as to first principles, +that is; but, you see, I can't quite go the Methodist doctrine. I was +raised a Presbyterian, you know,--regular black-and-blue Calvinist,--and +what a fellow takes in with his mother's milk sticks by him. I'm +attached to the old ideas,--infant damnation, and total depravity, and +infernal punishment, and the interference of the saints. You fellows +over at the Swamp are loose! Why, by--the way, my mother used to say to +me, in her delicate, squeaky voice: 'Robert, beware of Methodists; +they're loose, my son, loose as a bag of bones.' No, indeed, I wouldn't +want you to think me indifferent to religion; religion's my forte. Why, +by--and by, I mean to start a Presbyterian church right here under your +nose." + +"I'm glad of it," responded the minister warmly; "you've no idea how +glad I am, Jarvis." + +"Why, man alive, that church is in my mind day and night. I want to get +about forty good, pious Presbyterian families to settle around here, and +I'll bore wells for 'em, and talk up the church business between times. +You saw me carrying that lady's pitcher for her this morning, didn't +you? Well, by--the way, that was a religious move entirely. I took her +man for a Presbyterian preacher the minute I struck the ranch; maybe +it's poor health gives him that cadaverous look, but you can't most +always tell. More likely it's religion. At any rate"-- + +Esculapius retreated in wild disorder, and did not appear again until +supper-time. When that meal was finished, Colonel Jarvis followed me as +I walked to the piazza. + +"If it ain't presuming, madam," he said confidentially, "I'd like to ask +your advice. I take it you're from the city, now?" + +"Yes," I answered, with preternatural gravity; "what makes you think +so?" + +"Well, I knew it by your gait, mostly. A woman that's raised in the +country walks as if she was used to havin' the road to herself; city +women are generally good steppers. But that ain't the point. I'm engaged +to be married!" + +My composure under this announcement was a good deal heightened by the +fact that Esculapius, who had sauntered out after us, whistling to +himself, became suddenly quiet, and disappeared tumultuously. + +"Engaged to be married!" I said. "Let me congratulate you, Colonel. May +I hope to see the fortunate young lady?" + +"That depends. You see, I'm in a row,--the biggest kind of a row, by--a +good deal; and I thought you might give me a lift. She's a 'Frisco lady, +you know; one of your regular high-flyers; black eyes, bangs, no end o' +spirit. You see, she was visitin' over at Los Nietos, and we made it up, +and when she went back to 'Frisco I thought I'd send her a ring; so I +bought this," fumbling in his pocket, and producing the most astounding +combination of red glass and pinchbeck; "and, by godfrey! she sent it +back to me. Now, I don't see anything wrong about that ring; do you?" + +"It is certainly a little--well, peculiar, at least, for an engagement +ring; perhaps she would like something a trifle less showy. Ladies have +a great many whims about jewelry, you know." + +"Exactly. That is just what I reflected. So I went and bought _this_" +(triumphantly displaying a narrow band); "now that's what I call +genteel; don't you? Well, if you'll believe it, she sent that back, too, +by--return mail. I wish I'd fetched you the letter she wrote; if it +wasn't the spiciest piece of literature I ever read by--anybody. 'She'd +have me understand she wasn't a barmaid nor a Quaker; and if I didn't +know what was due a lady in her position, I'd better find out before I +aspired to her hand,' _et cetery_. Oh, I tell you, she's grit; no end o' +mettle. So, you see, I've struck a boulder, and it gets me bad, because +I meant to see the parson through with his well here, and then go on to +'Frisco and get married. Now, if you'll help me through, and get me into +sand and gravel again, and your man decides to settle in these parts, +I'll guarantee you a number one well, good, even two-inch flow, and no +expense but pipe and boardin' hands. I'll do it, by--some means." + +"Oh, no, Colonel," I said, struggling with a laugh; "I couldn't allow +that. It gives me great pleasure to advise you, only it's a very +delicate matter, you know--and--really" (I was casting about wildly for +an inspiration) "wouldn't it be better to go on to the city, as you +intended, and ask the lady to go with you and exercise her own taste in +selecting a ring?" + +My companion took a step backward, folded his arms, and looked at me +admiringly. + +"Well, if it don't beat all how a woman walks through a millstone! Now +that's what I call neat. Why, God bless you, madam, I've been boring at +that thing for a week steady, night and day, by--myself, and making no +headway. It makes me think of my mother. 'Robert,' she used to say (and +she had a very small, trembly voice),--'Robert, a woman's little finger +weighs more than a man's whole carcass;' and she was right. I'll +be--destroyed if she wasn't right!" + +Esculapius laughed rather unnecessarily when I repeated this +conversation to him. + +"I am willing to allow that it's funny," I said; "but after all there is +a rude pathos in the man, an untutored chivalry. Nearly every man loves +and reverences a woman; but this man loves and reverences women. It is +old-fashioned, I know, but it has a breezy sweetness of its own, like +the lavender and rosemary of our grandmothers; don't you think so?" + +There was no reply. I imagine that Esculapius is sensible at times of +his want of ideality, and feels a delicacy in conversing with me. So I +went on musingly:-- + +"With such natures love is an instinct; and it is to instinct, after +all, that we must look for everything that is fresh and poetic in +humanity. We have all made this sacrifice to culture,--a sacrifice of +force to expression. Isn't it so, my love?" + +Still no reply. + +"I like to picture to myself the affection of which such a man is +capable, for no doubt he loves this girl of whom he speaks; not, of +course, as you--as you _ought_ to love me, but with a rude, wild +sincerity, a sort of rugged grandeur. Imagine him betrayed by her. A man +of the world might grow white about the lips and sick at heart, but he +would find relief in cynicism and bitter words. This man would +_act_,--some wild, strange act of vengeance. The cultured nature is a +honeycomb: his is a solid mass; and masses give us our most picturesque +effects. Don't you think so, my dear?" + +And still no reply. + +"Esculapius!" + +"Well, my love?" + +"Isn't it barbarous of you not to answer when I speak to you?" + +"Possibly; at least it has that appearance, but there are mitigating +circumstances, my dear. I was asleep." + + +II. + +Two weeks later the colonel brought his wife to call upon me. She was a +showy, loud-voiced blonde, resplendently over-dressed. At the first +opportunity her husband motioned me aside. + +"Isn't she about the gayest piece of calico you ever saw?" he asked, +with proud confidence. "Doesn't she lay over anything around here by a +large majority?" + +"She is certainly a very striking woman," I said gravely, "and one who +does you great credit. But I am a little surprised, Colonel. No doubt it +was a mistake, but I got the impression in some way that the lady was a +brunette." + +The colonel's countenance fell. "Now, look here," he said, after a +little reflection; "I don't mind telling you, because you're up to the +city ways and you'll understand. The fact is, this _isn't the one_. You +see, I went on to 'Frisco as you advised, and planked down a check for +five hundred dollars the minute I got there. 'Now,' said I, 'Bob Jarvis +don't do things by halves; just you take that money, my girl, and get +yourself a ring that's equal to the occasion. I don't care if it's a +cluster of solitary diamonds as big as a section of well-pipe.' Now, I +call that square, don't you? Well, God bless your soul, madam, if she +didn't take that money and skip out with another fellow! Some +white-livered city sneak--beggin' your husband's pardon--who'd been +hangin' around for a year or more. Of course I was stuck when I heard of +it. It was this one told me. She's her sister. I could see that she felt +bad about it. 'It was a nasty, dirty trick,' she said; and I'll +be--demoralized if I don't think so myself, and said so at the time. +But, after all, it turned out a lucky thing for me. Now look at that, +will you?" + +I followed his gaze of admiring fondness to where Mrs. Jarvis was, +bridling and simpering under Esculapius's compliments. + +"Isn't she a nosegay? But don't you be jealous, madam; she's just +wrapped up in me, and constant," he added, shaking his head +reflectively; "why, bless your soul, she's as constant as sin." + +When I told Esculapius of this he sighed deeply. + +"What is the matter?" I asked, with some anxiety. + +He threw back his head and sent a little dreamy cloud of smoke up +through the acacias. + +"I was thinking," he said, pensively, "what a 'wild, strange act of +vengeance' it was!" + +I looked him sternly in the eye. "My dear," I said, "I don't think you +ought to distress yourself about that. I never should have reminded you +of it. You were dreaming, you know, and you are not responsible for what +you dream. Besides, dreams are like human nature, they always go by +contraries." + + + + +BRICE. + + +I. + +He came up the mountain road at nightfall, urging his lean mustang +forward wearily, and coughing now and then--a heavy, hollow cough that +told its own story. + +There were only two houses on the mesa stretching shaggy and sombre with +greasewood from the base of the mountains to the valley below,--two +unpainted redwood dwellings, with their clumps of trailing pepper-trees +and tattered bananas,--mere specks of civilization against a stern +background of mountain-side. The traveler halted before one of them, +bowing awkwardly as the master of the house came out. + +"Mr. Brandt, I reckon." + +Joel Brandt looked up into the stranger's face. Not a bad face, +certainly: sallow and drawn with suffering,--one of those hopelessly +pathetic faces, barely saved from the grotesque by a pair of dull, +wistful eyes. Not that Joel Brandt saw anything either grotesque or +pathetic about the man. + +"Another sickly looking stranger outside, Barbara, wants to try the air +up here. Can you keep him? Or maybe the Fox's'll give him a berth." + +Mrs. Brandt shook her head in a house-wifely meditation. + +"No; Mrs. Fox can't, that's certain. She has an asthma and two +bronchitises there now. What's the matter with him, Joel?" + +The stranger's harsh, resonant cough answered. + +"Keep him?--to be sure. You might know I'd keep him, Joel; the night +air's no place for a man to cough like that. Bring him into the kitchen +right away." + +The newcomer spread his bony hands over Mrs. Brandt's cheery fire, and +the soft, dull eyes followed her movements wistfully. + +"The fire feels kind o' homey, ma'am; Californy ain't much of a place +for fires, it 'pears." + +"Been long on the coast, stranger?" Joel squared himself +interrogatively. + +"'Bout a week. I'm from Indianny. Brice's my name--Posey Brice the boys +'n the glass-mill called me. I wuz blowed up in a glass-mill oncet." The +speaker turned to show an ugly scar on his neck. "Didn't know where I +wuz fer six weeks--thought I hadn't lit. When I come to, there wuz Loisy +potterin' over me; but I ain't been rugged sence." + +"Married?" + +The man's answer broke through the patient homeliness of his face at +once. He fumbled in his pocket silently, like one who has no common +disclosure to make. + +"What d' ye think o' them, stranger?" + +Joel took the little, rusty, black case in his hands reverently. A +woman's face, not grand, nor fair even, some bits of tawdry finery +making its plainness plainer; and beside it a round-eyed boy plumped +into a high chair, with two little feet sticking sturdily out in Joel's +face. + +Mrs. Brandt looked over her husband's shoulder with kindly curiosity. + +"The boy favors you amazingly about the mouth; but he's got his mother's +eyes, and they're sharp, knowin' eyes, too. He's a bright one, I'll be +bound." + +"Yours, I reckon?" + +"Yes, that's Loisy an' the boy," fighting the conscious pride in his +voice like one who tries to wear his honors meekly. + +He took the well-worn case again, gazing into the two faces an instant +with helpless yearning, and returned it to its place. The very way he +handled it was a caress, fastening the little brass hook with scrupulous +care. + +"I'll be sendin' fur 'em when I git red o' this pesterin' cough." + + +II. + +A very quiet, unobtrusive guest Mrs. Brandt found the man Brice; talking +little save in a sudden gush of confidence, and always of his wife and +child; choosing a quiet corner of the kitchen in the chill California +nights, where he watched his hostess's deft movements with wistful +admiration. + +"Try huntin', Brice; the doctors mostly say it's healthy." + +And Brice tried hunting, as Joel advised, taking the gun from its crotch +over the door after breakfast, and wandering for hours in the yellow, +wine-like air of the mesa. He came in at noon and nightfall always +empty-handed, yet no one derided his failure. There was something about +the man that smothered derision. + +"A sort o' thunderin' patience that knocks a fellow," Bert Fox put it. + +Mrs. Brandt had always an encouraging word for the hunter. + +"Greasewood's bad fer huntin'. Joel says it don't pay to look fer quail +in the brush when he does fetch 'em down." + +"Like enough. I dunno, ma'am. Reckon I've had a good many shots at the +little wild critters, but they allus turn their heads so kind o' +innocent like. A man as has been blowed up oncet hisself ain't much at +separatin' fam'lies. But I s'pose it ain't the shootin' that's healthy, +mebbe." + +And so the hunting came to an end without bloodshed. Whether the doctors +were right, or whether it was the mingled resin and honey of the sage +and chaparral, no one cared to ask. Certain it is that the "pesterin' +cough" yielded a little, and the bent form grew a trifle more erect. + +"I think likely it's the lookin' up, ma'am. Mountains seem to straighten +a fellow some way. 'Pears to me somebody writ oncet uv liftin' his eyes +to the hills fer help. Mebbe not, though. I ain't much at recollectin' +verses. Loisy's a powerful hand that way." + +Perhaps the man was right. It was the looking up. + +He followed Joel from the table one morning, stopping outside, his face +full of patient eagerness. + +"I'm gittin' right smart o' strength, neighbor. Ef there's odd jobs you +could gi' me; I'd be slow, mebbe, but seems like 'most anything 'ud be +better 'n settin' 'round." + +Joel scratched his head reflectively. The big, brawny-handed fellow felt +no disposition to smile at his weak brother. + +"Fox and I wuz sayin' yesterday we'd like to put another man on the +ditch; it'll be easy work fer a week, till we strike rock again. Then +there's the greasewood. It's always on hand. You might take it slow, +grubbin' when you wuz able. I guess we'll find you jobs enough, man." + +The scarred, colorless face brightened. + +"Thank ye, neighbor. Ef you'll be so kind, there's another little +matter. I'll have a trifle over when I've paid your woman fer her +trouble. I wuz thinkin' like enough you'd let me run up a shanty on yer +place here. Loisy wouldn't mind about style--just a roof to bring 'em +to. It's fer her and the boy, you know," watching Joel's face eagerly. + +"Yes, yes, Brice; we'll make it all right. Just take things kind o' +easy. I'll be goin' in with wood next week, and I'll fetch you out a +load o' lumber. We'll make a day of it after 'while, and put up your +house in a jiffy." + +And so Brice went to work on the ditch, gently at first, spared from the +heaviest work by strong arms and rough kindliness. And so, ere long, +another rude dwelling went up on the mesa, the blue smoke from its +fireside curling slowly toward the pine-plumed mountain-tops. + +The building fund, scanty enough at best, was unexpectedly swelled by a +sudden and obstinate attack of forgetfulness which seized good Mrs. +Brandt. + +"No, Brice, you haven't made me a spark o' trouble, not a spark. I'm +sure you've paid your way twice over bringin' in wood, and grindin' +coffee, an' the like. Many a man'd asked wages for the half you've done, +so I'm gettin' off easy to call it square." And the good lady stood her +ground unflinchingly. + +"You've been powerful good to me, ma'am. We'll be watchin' our chance to +make it up to you,--Loisy an' me. I'll be sendin' fer Loisy d'reckly +now." + +"Yes, yes, man, and there'll be bits o' furniture and things to get. +Spread your money thin, and Mrs. Fox and me'll come in and put you to +rights when you're lookin' for her." + +He brought the money to Joel at last, a motley collection of gold and +silver pieces. + +"Ef ye'll be so kind as to send it to 'er, neighbor,--Mrs. Loisy Brice, +Plattsville, Indianny. I've writ the letter tellin' her how to come. +There's enough fer the ticket and a trifle to spare. The boy's a master +hand at scuffin' out shoes an' things. You'll not make any mistake +sendin' it, will you?" + +"No, no, Brice; it'll go straight as a rocket. Let me see now. The +letter'll be a week, then 'lowin' 'em a week to get started"-- + +"Loisy won't be a week startin', neighbor." + +"Never you mind, man. 'Lowin' 'em a week to get off, that's two weeks; +then them emigrant trains is slow, say thirteen days on the +road,--that's about another fortnight,--four weeks; this is the fifth, +ain't it? Twenty-eight and five's thirty-three; that'll be the third o' +next month, say. Now mind what I tell you, Brice; don't look fer 'em a +minute before the third,--not a minute." + +"'Pears like a long spell to wait, neighbor." + +"I know it, man; but it'll seem a thunderin' sight longer after you +begin to look fer 'em." + +"I reckon you're right. Say four weeks from to-day, then. Like enough +you'll be goin' in." + +"Yes, we'll hitch up and meet 'em at the train,--you and me. The +women'll have things kind o' snug ag'in' we git home. Four weeks'll soon +slide along, man." + +Joel went into the house smiling softly. + +"I had to be almost savage with the fellow, Barbara. The anxious seat's +no place fer a chap like him; it'd wear him to a toothpick in a week." + +"But she might get here before that, you know, Joel." + +"I'll fix that with the men at the depot. If she comes sooner we'll have +her out here in a hurry. Wish to goodness she would." + + +III. + +The Southern winter blossomed royally. Bees held high carnival in the +nodding spikes of the white sage, and now and then a breath of perfume +from the orange groves in the valley came up to mingle with the wild +mountain odors. Brice worked every moment with feverish earnestness, and +the pile of gnarled roots on the clearing grew steadily larger. With all +her loveliness, Nature failed to woo him. What was the exquisite languor +of those days to him but so many hours of patient waiting? The dull eyes +saw nothing of the lavish beauty around him then, looking through it all +with restless yearning to where an emigrant train, with its dust and +dirt and noisome breath, crawled over miles of alkali, or hung from +dizzy heights. + +"To-morrow's the third, neighbor. I reckon she'll be 'long now +d'reckly." + +"That's a fact; what a rattler time is!" The days had not been long to +Joel. "We'll go in to-morrow, and if they don't come you can stay and +watch the trains awhile. She won't know you, Brice; you've picked up +amazingly." + +"I think likely Loisy'll know me if she comes." + +But she did not come. Joel returned the following night alone, having +left Brice at cheap lodgings near the station. Numberless passers-by +must have noticed the patient watcher at the incoming trains, the homely +pathos of his face deepening day by day, the dull eyes growing a shade +duller, and the awkward form a trifle more stooped with each succeeding +disappointment. It was two weeks before he reappeared on the mesa, +walking wearily like a man under a load. + +"I reckon there's something wrong, ma'am. I come out to see ef yer man +'ud write me a letter. I hadn't been long in Plattsville, but I worked +a spell fer a man named Yarnell; like enough he'd look it up a little. I +ain't much at writin', an' I'd want it all writ out careful like, you +know." The man's voice had the old, uncomplaining monotony. + +Joel wrote the letter at once, making the most minute inquiries +regarding Mrs. Brice, and giving every possible direction concerning her +residence. Then Brice fell back into the old groove, working feverishly, +in spite of Mrs. Brandt's kindly warnings. + +"I can't stop, ma'am; the settin' 'round 'ud kill me." + +The answer came at last, a businesslike epistle, addressed to Joel. Mrs. +Brice had left Plattsville about the time designated. Several of her +neighbors remembered that a stranger, a well-dressed man, had been at +the house for nearly a week before her departure, and the two had gone +away together, taking the Western train. The writer regretted his +inability to give further information, and closed with kindly inquiries +concerning his former employee's health, and earnest commendation of +him to Mr. Brandt. + +Joel read the letter aloud, something--some sturdy uprightness of his +own, no doubt--blinding him to its significance. + +"Will you read it ag'in, neighbor? I'm not over-quick." + +The man's voice was a revelation full of an unutterable hurt, like the +cry of some dumb wounded thing. + +And Joel read it again, choking with indignation now at every word. + +"Thank ye, neighbor. I'll trouble you to write a line thankin' him; +that's all." + +He got up heavily, staggering a little as he crossed the floor, and went +out into the yellow sunlight. There was the long, sun-kissed slope, the +huge pile of twisted roots, the rude shanty with its clambering vines. +The humming of bees in the sage went on drowsily. Life, infinitely +shrunken, was life still. A more cultured grief might have swooned or +cried out. This man knew no such refuge; even the poor relief of +indignation was denied to him. None of the thousand wild impulses that +come to men smitten like him flitted across his clouded brain. He only +knew to take up his burden dumbly and go on. If he had been wiser, could +he have known more? + +No one spoke of the blow that had fallen upon him. The sympathy that met +him came in the warmer clasp of hard hands and the softening of rough +voices, none the worse certainly for its quietness. Alone with her +husband, however, good Mrs. Brandt's wrath bubbled incessantly. + +"It's a crying, burning, blistering shame, Joel, that's what it is. I +s'pose it's the Lord's doings, but I can't see through it." + +"If the Lord's up to that kind o' business, Barbara, I don't see no +further use fer the devil," was the dry response. + +These plain, honest folk never dreamed of intruding upon their +neighbor's grief with poor suggestions of requital. Away in the city +across the mountains men babbled of remedies at law. But this man's hurt +was beyond the jurisdiction of any court. Day by day the hollow cough +grew more frequent, and the awkward step slower. Nobody asked him to +quit his work now. Even Mrs. Brandt shrank from the patient misery of +his face when idle. He came into her kitchen one evening, choosing the +old quiet corner, and following her with his eyes silently. + +"Is there anything lackin', Brice?" The woman came and stood beside him, +the great wave of pity in her heart welling up to her voice and eyes. + +"Nothin', ma'am, thank ye. I've been thinkin'," he went on, speaking +more rapidly than was his wont, "an' I dunno. You've knowed uv people +gettin' wrong in their minds, I s'pose. They wuz mostly smart, knowin' +chaps, wuzn't they?" the low, monotonous voice growing almost sharp with +eagerness. "I reckon you never knowed of any one not over-bright gittin' +out of his head, ma'am?" + +"I wouldn't talk o' them things, Brice. Just go on and do your best, and +if there's any good, or any right, or any justice, you'll come out +ahead; that's about all we know, but it's enough if we stick to it." + +"I reckon you're right, ma'am. 'Pears sometimes, though, as ef anything +'ud be better 'n the thinkin'." + + +IV. + +It all came to an end one afternoon. Brice was at work on the ditch +again, preferring the cheerful companionship of Joel and Bert Fox to his +own thoughts, and Mrs. Brandt was alone in her kitchen. Two shadows fell +across the worn threshold, and a weak, questioning voice brought the +good woman to her door instantly. + +"Good-day to you, ma'am. Is there a man named Brice livin' nigh here +anywhere?" + +It was a woman's voice,--a woman with some bits of tawdry ornament about +her, and a round-eyed boy clinging bashfully to her skirts. + +Mrs. Brandt brought them into the house, urging the stranger to rest a +bit and get her breath. + +"Thank you, ma'am; I'd like to be movin' on. Do you know if he's +well,--the man Brice? We're his wife an' boy." + +The woman told her story presently, when Mrs. Brandt had induced her to +wait there until the men came home,--told it with no unnecessary words, +and her listener made no comment. + +"My brother come a week afore we was leavin', an' he helped us off an' +come as fur as Omaha. He'd done well out in Nebrasky, an' he give me +right smart o' money when he left. I was took sick on the road,--I +disremember jest where,--an' they left me at a town with a woman named +Dixon. She took care o' me. I was out o' my head a long time, an' when I +come to I told 'em to write to Brice, an' they writ, an' I reckon they +took the name of the place from the ticket. I was weak like fer a long +spell, an' they kep' a writin' an' no word come, an' then I recollected +about the town,--it was Los Angeles on the ticket,--and then I couldn't +think of the place I'd sent the letters to before, an' the thinkin' +worrited me, an' the doctor said I mustn't try. So I jest waited, an' +when I got to Los Angeles I kep' a-askin' fer a man named Brandt, till +one day somebody said, 'Brandt? Brandt? 'pears to me there's a Brandt +'way over beyond the Mission.' And then it come to me all at oncet that +the place I'd writ to was San Gabriel Mission. An' I went there an' +they showed me your house. Then a man give us a lift on his team part o' +the way, an' we walked the rest. It didn't look very fur, but they say +mountains is deceivin'. There 's somethin' kind o' grand about 'em, I +reckon; it makes everything 'pear sort o' small." + +Mrs. Brandt told Joel about it that evening. + +"I just took the two of 'em up to the shanty, and opened the door, and +you'd a cried to see how pleased she was with everything. And I told her +to kindle a fire and I'd fetch up a bite o' supper. And when I'd carried +it up and left it, I just come back and stood on the step till I saw +Brice comin' home. He was walkin' slow, as if his feet was a dead +weight, and when he took hold o' the door he stopped a minute, lookin' +over the valley kind o' wishful and hopeless. I guess she heard him +come, for she opened the door, and I turned around and come in. 'Barbara +Brandt,' says I, 'you've seen your see. If God wants to look at that, I +suppose He has a right to; nobody else has, that's certain.'" + + + + +STANDARD AND POPULAR + +BOOKS OF FICTION + +PUBLISHED BY + +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. + + +Thomas Bailey Aldrich. + + The Story of a Bad Boy. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25. + Marjorie Daw and Other People. Short Stories. With + Frontispiece. 12mo, $1.50. + Marjorie Daw and Other Stories. In Riverside Aldine + Series. 16mo, $1.00. + These volumes are not identical in contents. + Prudence Palfrey. With frontispiece. 12mo, $1.50; + paper, 50 cents. + The Queen of Sheba. 12mo, $1.50; paper, 50 cents. + The Stillwater Tragedy. 12mo, $1.50; paper, 50 cents. + Two Bites at a Cherry, and Other Tales. 16mo, $1.25. + +Jane G. 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