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diff --git a/34208-h/34208-h.htm b/34208-h/34208-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a9f409 --- /dev/null +++ b/34208-h/34208-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10467 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title>The Law of Hemlock Mountain, by Hugh Lundsford, a Project Gutenberg eBook</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; text-indent: 0; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + + .caption {font-size: 90%; text-align:center;} + .chsp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;} + .figtag {height: 1px;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + div.poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + div.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em;} + div.poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + div.poem p.indent2 {padding-left:3.8em;} + hr.tb {border: none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 33%; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;} + hr.toprule {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + + .center, .center p {text-align: center;} + .larger {font-size: large;} + .padtop {margin-top: 2em;} + .smaller {font-size: small;} + .trnote {background-color: #EEE; color: inherit; margin: 2em 5% 1em 5%; font-size: small; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em; border: dotted 1px gray;} + blockquote {display: block; margin: .75em 5%; font-size: 90%;} + h1,h2,h3,h4 {text-align: center;} + ins {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em; clear: both;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Law of Hemlock Mountain, by Hugh Lundsford + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Law of Hemlock Mountain + +Author: Hugh Lundsford + +Illustrator: Douglas Duer + +Release Date: November 4, 2010 [EBook #34208] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAW OF HEMLOCK MOUNTAIN *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia, Katherine Ward, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='center'> +<h1>THE LAW OF<br /> +HEMLOCK MOUNTAIN</h1> +<p class='larger'><b>BY<br /> +HUGH LUNDSFORD</b></p> +<p>Frontispiece by<br /> +DOUGLAS DUER</p> +<p class='smcap padtop'>New York<br /> +W. J. Watt & Company<br /> +PUBLISHERS</p> +<p class='smaller padtop'><span class='smcap'>Copyright, 1920, by</span><br /> +W. J. WATT & COMPANY</p> +<p class='smaller padtop'>PRESS OF<br /> +BRAUNWORTH & CO.<br /> +BOOK MANUFACTURERS<br /> +BROOKLYN, N.Y.</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figcenter'> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<img src='images/frontis2.jpg' alt='' title='' width='440' height='650' /> +<br /> +<p class='caption'> +“I am sorry,” declared Spurrier, humbly. “I didn’t know they were pets. They behaved very much like wild birds.”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I' id='CHAPTER_I'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +</div> +<p>The officer whose collar ornaments were the +winged staff and serpents of the medical +branch, held what was left of the deck in his +right hand and moistened the tip of his thumb against +the tip of his tongue.</p> +<p>“Reënforcements, major?” he inquired with a +glance to the man at his left, and the poker face of +the gentleman so addressed remained impervious to +expression as the answer was given back:</p> +<p>“No, I’ll stand by what I’ve got here.”</p> +<p>If the utterance hung on a quarter second of indecision +it was a circumstance that went unnoted, save +possibly by a young man with the single bars of a +lieutenant on his shoulder straps—and Spurrier gave +no flicker of recognition of what had escaped the +others.</p> +<p>Between the whitewashed walls of the room where +the little group of officers sat at cards the Philippine +night breeze stirred faintly with a fevered breath that +scarcely disturbed the jalousies.</p> +<p>The pile of poker chips had grown to a bulkiness +and value out of just proportion to the means of army +officers below field rank—and except for the battalion, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span> +commander and the surgeon none there held higher +grade than a captaincy. This jungle-hot weather +made men irresponsible.</p> +<p>One or two of the faces were excitedly flushed; several +others were morosely dark. The lights guttered +with a jaundiced yellow and sweat beaded the temples +of the players. Sweat, too, made slippery the enameled +surfaces of the pasteboards. Sweat seemed to ooze +and simmer in their brains like the oil from overheated +asphalt.</p> +<p>These men had been forced into a companionship +of monotony in a climate of unhealth until their +studied politeness, even their forced jocularity was +rather the effort of toleration than the easy play of +comradeship. Their arduously wooed excitement of +draw-poker, which had run improvidently out of +bounds, was not a pleasure so much as an expedient +against the boredom that had rubbed their tempers +threadbare and put an edgy sharpness on their nerves.</p> +<p>Captain Comyn, upon whose call for cards the +dealer now waited, was thinking of Private Grant out +there under guard in the improvised hospital. The +islands had “gotten to” Private Grant and “locoed” +him, and he had breathed sulphurous maledictions +against Captain Comyn’s life—but it was not those +threats that now disturbed the company commander.</p> +<p>Of late Captain Comyn had been lying awake at +night and wondering if he, too, were not going the +same way as the unfortunate file. Horribly quiet fears +had been stealing poisonously into his mind—a mind +not given to timidities—and the word “melancholia” +had assumed for him a morbid and irresistible compulsion. +No one save the captain’s self knew of these +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +secret hauntings, born of climate and smoldering fever, +and he would not have revealed them on the torture +rack. For them he entertained the same shame as that +of a boy grown too large for such weakness, who +shudders with an unconfessed fear of the dark. But +he could no more shake them loose and be free of them +than could the Ancient Mariner rid himself of the bird +of ill-omen tied about his neck. Now he pulled himself +together and tossed away a single card.</p> +<p>“I’ll take one in the place of that,” he commented +with studied carelessness, and Lieutenant John +Spurrier, with that infectious smile which came readily +to his lips, pointed a contrast with the captain’s abstraction +by the snappy quickness of his announcement:</p> +<p>“If I’m going to trail along, I’ll need three. Yes, +three, please, major.”</p> +<p>“When Spurrier sits in the game,” commented a +player who, with a dolorous glance at the booty before +him, threw down his hands, “we at least get action. +Myself, I’m out of it.”</p> +<p>The battalion commander studied the ceiling with a +troubled furrow between his brows which was not +brought there by the hazards of luck. He was reflecting +that whenever a game was organized it was Spurrier +who quickened its tempo from innocuous amusement +to reckless extravagance. Spurrier, fitted for +his life with so many soldierly qualities, was still, +above all else, a plunger. That spirit seemed a passion +that filled and overflowed him. Temperate in other +habits, he played like a nabob. The major remembered +hearing that even at West Point Jack Spurrier +had narrowly, escaped dismissal for gambling in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +quarters, though his class standing had been distinguished +and his gridiron record had become a tradition.</p> +<p>This sort of game with “the roof off and deuces +wild,” was not good for the <i>morale</i> of his junior +officers, mused the major. It was like spiking whisky +with absinthe. Yes, to-morrow he would have Spurrier +at his quarters and talk to him like a Dutch uncle.</p> +<p>There were three left battling for the often +sweetened pot now, with three more who had dropped +out, looking on, and a tensity enveloped the long-drawn +climax of the evening’s session.</p> +<p>Captain Comyn’s cheek bones had reddened and his +irascible frown lines deepened. For the moment his +fears of melancholia had been swallowed up in a fitful +fury against Spurrier and his smiling face.</p> +<p>At last came the decisive moment of the final call +and the show-down, and through the dead silence of +the moment sounded the distant sing-song of a sentry:</p> +<p>“Corporal of the guard, number one, relief!”</p> +<p>Over the window sill a tiny green lizard slithered +quietly and hesitated, pressing itself flat against the +whitewash.</p> +<p>Then the major’s cards came down face upward—and +showed a queen-high straight.</p> +<p>“Not quite good enough, major,” announced Comyn +brusquely as his breath broke from him with a sort of +gasp and he spread out a heart flush.</p> +<p>But Spurrier, who had drawn three cards, echoed +the captain’s words: “Not quite good enough.” He +laid down two aces and two deuces, which under the +cutthroat rule of “deuces wild” he was privileged to +call four aces.</p> +<p>Comyn came to his feet and pushed back his chair, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +but he stood unsteadily. The fever in his bones was +playing queer pranks with his brain. He, whose +courtesy had always been marked in its punctilio, +blazed volcano-fashion into the eruption that had been +gathering through these abnormal days and nights.</p> +<p>Yet even now the long habit of decorum held waveringly +for a little before its breaking, and he began +with a queer strain in his voice:</p> +<p>“You’ll have to take my <b>IOU</b>. I’ve lost more than +I can pay on the peg.”</p> +<p>“That’s all right, Comyn,” began the victor, “Pay +when——” but before he could finish the other interrupted +with a frenzy of anger:</p> +<p>“No, by God, it’s not all right! It’s all wrong, and +this is the last game I sit in where they deal a hand +to you.”</p> +<p>Spurrier’s smiling lips tightened instantly out of +their infectious amiability into a forbidding straightness. +He pushed aside the chips he had been stacking +and rose stiffly.</p> +<p>“That’s a statement, Captain Comyn,” he said with +a warning note in his level voice, “which requires some +explaining.”</p> +<p>The abrupt bursting of the tempest had left the +others in a tableau of amazement, but now the authoritative +voice of Major Withers broke in upon the +dialogue.</p> +<p>“Gentlemen, this is an army post, and I am in +command here. I will tolerate no quarrels.”</p> +<p>Without shifting the gaze of eyes that held those +of the captain, Spurrier answered insistently:</p> +<p>“I have every respect, major, for the requirements +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +of discipline—but Captain Comyn must finish telling +why he will no longer play cards with me.”</p> +<p>“And I’ll tell you <i>pronto</i>,” came the truculent response. +“I won’t play with you because you are too +damned lucky.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” Spurrier’s tensity of expression relaxed into +something like amusement for the anticlimax. “That +accusation can be stomached, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“Too damned lucky,” went on the other with a +gathering momentum of rancor, “and too continuously +lucky for a game that’s not professional. When a +man is so proficient—or lucky if you prefer—that the +card table pays him more than the government thinks +he’s worth, it’s time——”</p> +<p>Spurrier stepped forward.</p> +<p>“It’s time for you to stop,” he cautioned sharply. +“I give you the fairest warning!”</p> +<p>But Comyn, riding the flood tide of his passion—a +passion of distempered nerves—was beyond the +reach of warnings and his words came in a bitter +outpouring:</p> +<p>“I dare say it was only luck that let you bankrupt +young Tillsdale, but it was as fatal to him as if it +bore an uglier name.”</p> +<p>The sound in Spurrier’s throat was incoherent and +his bodily impulse swift beyond interference. His flat +palm smote Captain Comyn’s cheek, to come away +leaving a red welt behind it, and as the others swept +forward to intervene the two men grappled.</p> +<p>They were torn apart, still struggling, as Major +Withers, unaccustomed to the brooking of such mutinies, +interposed between them the bulk of his body +and the moral force of his indignantly blazing eyes.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></div> +<p>“I will have no more of this,” he thundered. “I +am not a prize-fight referee, that I must break my +officers out of clinches! Go to your quarters, Comyn! +You, too, Spurrier. You are under arrest. I shall +prefer charges against you both. I mean to make an +example of this matter.”</p> +<p>But with a strange abruptness the fury died out of +Comyn’s face. It left his passion-distorted features +so instantly that the effect of transformation was uncanny. +In a breathing space he seemed older and his +eyes held the dark dejection of utter misery. His +anger had flared and died before that grimmer emotion +which secretly haunted him—the fear that he was +going the way of climate-crazed Private Grant.</p> +<p>When they released him he turned dispiritedly and +left the room in docile silence. He was not thinking +of the charges to be preferred. They belonged to to-morrow. +To-night was nearer, and to-night he must +face those hours of sleeplessness that he dreaded more +than all the penalties enunciated by the Articles of +War.</p> +<p>Spurrier, too, bowed stiffly and left the room.</p> +<p>Though it was late when Captain Comyn entered +his own quarters, he did not at once throw himself +on the army cot that stood against the whitewashed +wall.</p> +<p>For him the cot held no invitation—only the threat +of insomnia and tossing. His taut nerves had lost +the gracious art of relaxation, and before his thoughts +paraded hideously grotesque memories of the few +faces he had ever seen marred by the dethronement of +reason.</p> +<p>Already he had forgotten the violent and discreditable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +scene with Spurrier, and presently he +dropped himself inertly into the camp chair beside the +table at the room’s center and opened its drawer.</p> +<p>Slowly his hand came out clutching a service revolver, +and his eyes smoldered unnaturally as they +dwelt on it. But after a little he resolutely shook his +head and thrust the thing aside.</p> +<p>He sat in a cold sweat, surrounded by the silence of +the Eastern night, a comprehensive silence which +weighed upon him and oppressed him.</p> +<p>In the thatching of the single-storied adobe building +he heard the rustling of a house snake, and from +without, where moonlight seemed to gush and spill +against the cobalt shadows, shrilled the small voice +from a lizard’s inflated, crimson throat.</p> +<p>It was all crazing him, and his nails bit into his +palms as he sat there, silent and heavy-breathed. +Then he heard footsteps nearer and louder than those +of the pacing sentries, followed by a low rapping of +knuckles on his own door. Perhaps it was Doctor +James. He had the kindly habit of besetting men who +looked fagged with the offer of some innocuous +bromide. As if bromides could soothe a brain in +which something had gone <i>malo</i>!</p> +<p>“Come in,” he growled, and into the room stepped +not Major James, but Lieutenant Spurrier.</p> +<p>Slowly and with an infinite weight of weariness, +Comyn rose to his feet. He might be afraid of lunacy, +but not of lieutenants, and his lips smiled sneeringly.</p> +<p>“If you’ve come to ask a retraction,” he declared +ungraciously, “I’ve none to offer. I meant all I said.”</p> +<p>The visitor stood inside the door calmly eyeing the +man who was his own company commander.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></div> +<p>“I didn’t come to insist on apologies,” he replied +after a moment’s silence with an off-hand easiness of +tone. “That can wait till you’ve gotten over your +tantrum. It was another thing that brought me.”</p> +<p>“I want to be left alone.”</p> +<p>“Aside from the uncomplimentary features of your +tirade,” went on Spurrier placidly and he strolled around +the table and seated himself on the window sill, “there +was a germ of truth in what you said. We’ve been +playing too steep a game.” He paused and the other +man who remained standing by his table, as though he +did not wish to encourage his visitor by seating himself, +responded only with a short, ironic laugh.</p> +<p>“See here, Comyn,” Spurrier’s voice labored now +with evident embarrassment. “What I’m getting at +is this: I don’t want your <b>IOU</b> for that game. I +simply want you to forget it.”</p> +<p>But the captain took an angry step forward.</p> +<p>“Do you think I’m a charity patient?” he demanded, +as his temper again mounted to storm pressure. +“Why, damn your impertinence, I don’t want to talk +to you. I don’t want you in my quarters!”</p> +<p>Spurrier slipped from his seat and an angry flush +spread to his cheek bones.</p> +<p>“You’re the hell of a—gentleman!” he exclaimed.</p> +<p>The two stood for a few moments without words, +facing each other, while the lieutenant could hear the +captain’s breath rising and falling in a panting +thickness.</p> +<p>Surgeon James returning from a visit to a colic +sufferer was trudging sleepily along the empty <i>calle</i> +when he noted the light still burning in the captain’s +window, and with an exclamation of remembrance for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +the officer’s dark-ringed and sleepless eyes, he wheeled +toward the door. Just as he neared it, a staccato and +heated interchange of voices was borne out to him, +and he hurried his step, but at the same instant a pistol +shot bellowed blatantly in the quiet air and into his +nostrils stole the acrid savor of burned powder.</p> +<p>The door, thrown open, gave him the startling picture +of Comyn sagged across his own table and lying +grotesque in the yellow light; and of Spurrier standing, +wide-eyed by the window, with the green and +cobalt background of the tropic night beyond his +shoulders. While he gazed the lieutenant wheeled +and thrust his head through the raised sash, under +the jalousy.</p> +<p>“Halt!” cried James excitedly, leaping forward to +possess himself of the pistol which Comyn had taken +from his drawer and thrust aside. “Halt, Spurrier, +or I’ll have to fire!”</p> +<p>The other turned back and faced his captor with +an expression which it was hard to read. Then he +shook his shoulders as though to disentangle himself +from an evil dream and in a cool voice demanded:</p> +<p>“Do you mean to intimate, James, that you suspect +me of killing Comyn?”</p> +<p>“Do you mean to deny it?” countered the other +incredulously.</p> +<p>“Great God! I oughtn’t to have to. That shot was +fired through the window. The bullet whined past +my ear while my back was turned. That was why I +looked out just now. Moreover, I am, as you see, +unarmed.”</p> +<p>“God grant that you can prove these things, Spurrier, +but they will need proof.” The doctor turned to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +bend over the prostrate figure, and as he did so voices +rose from the <i>calle</i> where already had sounded the +alarm and response of running feet. “Or, perhaps,” +added the doctor with stubborn suggestiveness, “you +acted in self-defense.”</p> +<p>Presently the door opened and the corporal of the +guard entered and saluted. His eyes traveled rapidly +about the room and he addressed Spurrier, since James +was not a line officer.</p> +<p>“I picked this revolver up, sir, just outside the +window,” he said, holding out a service pistol. “It +was lying in the moonlight and one chamber is empty.”</p> +<p>Spurrier took the weapon, but when the man had +gone James suggested in an even voice: “Don’t you +think you had better hand that gun to me?”</p> +<p>“To you? Why?”</p> +<p>“Because this looks like a case for G. C. M. It +will have a better aspect if I can testify that, after the +gun was brought in, it wasn’t handled by you except +while I saw you?”</p> +<p>“It seems to me”—a belligerent flash darted in the +lieutenant’s eyes—“that you are singularly set on hanging +this affair around my neck.”</p> +<p>“You were with him and no one else was. If I +were you, I’d go direct to the major and make a statement +of facts. He’ll be getting reports from other +sources by now.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps you are right. Is <i>he</i> dead?”</p> +<p>The surgeon nodded, and Spurrier turned and closed +the door softly behind him.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_II' id='CHAPTER_II'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +</div> +<p>The situation of John Spurrier, who was Jack +Spurrier to every man in that command, standing +under the monstrous presumption of having +murdered a brother officer, called for a reaccommodation +of the battalion’s whole habit of thought. It demanded +a new and unwelcome word in their vocabulary +of ideas, and against it argued, with the hot advocacy +of tested acquaintance, every characteristic of +the man himself, and every law of probability. For +its acceptance spoke only one forceful plea—evidence +which unpleasantly skirted the actuality of demonstration. +Short of seeing Spurrier shoot his captain down +and toss his pistol through the open window, Major +James could hardly have witnessed a more damaging +picture than the hurriedly opened door had framed to +his vision.</p> +<p>Within the close-drawn cordon of a post, held to +military accountability, facts were as traceable as entries +on a card index—and these facts began building to +the lieutenant’s undoing. They seemed to bring out +like acid on sympathetic ink the miracle of a Mr. +Hyde where his comrades had known only a Doctor +Jekyll.</p> +<p>The one man out of the two skeleton companies of +infantry stationed in the interior town who remained +seemingly impervious to the strangulating force of the +tightening net was Spurrier himself.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></div> +<p>In another man that insulated and steady-eyed confidence +might have served as a manifest of innocence +and a proclamation of clean conscience. But Spurrier +wore a nick-name, until now lightly considered, to +which new conditions had added importance.</p> +<p>They had called him “The Plunger,” and now they +could not forget the nickeled and chrome-hardened +gambling nerve which had won for him the sobriquet. +There had been the <i>coup</i> at Oakland, for example, +when a stretch finish had stood to ruin him or suddenly +enrich him—an incident that had gone down in +racing history and made café talk.</p> +<p>Through a smother of concealing dust and a thunder +of hoofs, the field had struggled into the stretch that +afternoon, tight-bunched, with its snapping silks too +closely tangled for easy distinguishing—but the cerise +cap that proclaimed Spurrier’s choice was nowhere in +sight. The bookmakers pedestalled on their high +stools with field glasses glued to their eyes had been +more excited than the young officer on the club-house +lawn, who put away his binoculars while the horses +were still in the back stretch and turned to chat with +a girl.</p> +<p>Three lengths from the finish a pair of distended +nostrils had thrust themselves ahead of the other +muzzles to catch the judges’ eyes, and bending over +steaming withers had nodded a cerise cap.</p> +<p>But the lieutenant who had escaped financial disaster +and won a miniature fortune had gone on talking +to the girl.</p> +<p>Might it not be suspected in these circumstances +that “Plunger” Spurrier’s refusal to treat his accusation +seriously was only an attitude? He was sitting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +in a game now with his neck at stake and the cards +running against him. Perhaps he was only bluffing +as he had never bluffed before. Possibly he was brazening +it out.</p> +<p>It was not until the battalion had hiked back through +bosque and over mountains to Manila that the lieutenant +faced his tribunal: a court whose simplified +methods cut away the maze of technicalities at which +a man may grasp before a civilian jury of his peers.</p> +<p>If, when he actually sat in the room where the evidence +was heard, his assurance that he was to emerge +clean-shriven began to reel under blows more powerful +than he had expected, at least his face continued to +testify for him with an outward serenity of confidence.</p> +<p>Doctor James told his story with an admirable restraint +and an absolute absence of coloring. He had +meant to go to Comyn, because he read in his eyes the +signs of nerve waste and insomnia; the same things +that had caused too many suicides among the men +whose nervous constitutions failed to adapt themselves +to the climate.</p> +<p>Before he had carried his purpose to fulfillment—perhaps +a half hour before—he had gone to look in +on the case of Private Grant, who was suffering from +just such a malady, though in a more serious degree. +That private, a mountaineer from the Cumberland +hills of Kentucky, had been to all appearances merely +a lunatic, although it was a case which would yield to +treatment or perhaps come to recovery even if left +to itself. On this night he had gone to see if Grant +needed an opiate, but had found the patient apparently +sleeping without restlessness, and had not roused him. +At the door of the place where Grant was under +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +guard, he had paused for a word with Private Severance +who stood there on sentry duty.</p> +<p>It had been a sticky night following a hot day, and +in the <i>calle</i> upon which lay the command in billets +of nipa-thatched houses, no one but himself and the +sentries were astir during the twenty minutes he had +spent strolling in the moonlight. On rounding a corner +he had seen a light in Comyn’s window, and he +had gone around the angle of the adobe house, since +the door was on the farther side, to offer the captain +a sleeping potion, too. That was how he chanced on +the scene of the tragedy, just a moment too late for +service.</p> +<p>“You say,” began Spurrier’s counsel, on cross-examination, +“that you visited Private Grant about +half an hour before Captain Comyn was killed and +found him apparently resting naturally, although on +previous nights you had thought morphia necessary +to quiet his delirium?”</p> +<p>The major nodded, then qualified slowly:</p> +<p>“Grant had not, of course, been continuously out +of his head nor had he always slept brokenly. There +had been lucid periods alternating with exhausting +storm.”</p> +<p>“You are not prepared to swear, though, that this +seeming sleep might not have been feigned?”</p> +<p>“I am prepared to testify that it is most unlikely.”</p> +<p>“Yet that same night he did make his escape and +deserted. That is true, is it not?”</p> +<p>The major bowed. “He had sought to escape +before. That was symptomatic of his condition.”</p> +<p>“And since then he has not been recaptured, though +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +he was in your opinion too ill and deranged to have +deceived you by feigning sleep?”</p> +<p>“Quite true.”</p> +<p>“Have you ever heard Grant threaten Captain +Comyn’s life?”</p> +<p>“Never.”</p> +<p>“Whether he had made such threats to your knowledge +or not, he did come from that hill county of the +Kentucky mountains commonly called Bloody Brackton, +did he not?”</p> +<p>“I believe so. His enlistment record will answer +that.”</p> +<p>“You do know, though, that the man on guard duty—the +man with whom you spoke outside—was Private +Severance, also from the so-called Kentucky feud belt +and a friend of the sick man?”</p> +<p>“I can testify of my own knowledge only that he +was Private Severance and that he and Grant were of +the same platoon—Lieutenant Spurrier’s.”</p> +<p>The defense advocate paused and carefully framed +a hypothetical question to be answered by the witness +as a medical expert.</p> +<p>“I will now ask you to speak from your knowledge +of blood tendencies as affected or distorted by mental +abnormalities. Suppose a man to have been born and +raised under a code which still adheres to feudal violence +and the private avenging of personal grievances +both real and fancied. Suppose such a man to have +conceived a bitter hatred against his commanding +officer and to have brooded over that hatred until it +had become a fixed idea—a monomania—a determination +to kill; suppose such a man to have known only +the fierce influences of his retarded hills until he came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +into the army and to have encountered there a discipline +which seemed to him a tyranny. I will ask +you whether such a man might not be apt to react +to a homicidal mania under nervous derangement, and +whether such a homicidal mania might not develop +its own craftiness of method?”</p> +<p>“Such,” testified the medical officer, “is a conceivable +but a highly imaginative possibility.”</p> +<p>Then Private Severance was called and came into +the room, where he stood smartly at attention until instructed +to take the witness chair. This dark-haired +private from the Cumberlands looked the soldier from +crown to sole leather, yet his features seemed to hold +under their present repose an ancient stamp of sullenness. +It was an intangible quality rather than an expression, +as though it bore less relation to his present +than to some unconquerable survival from generations +that had passed on; generations that had been always +peering into shadows and searching them for lurking +perils.</p> +<p>In his speech lingered quaintly remnants of dialect +from the laureled hills that army life had failed to +eradicate, and in his manner one could note a wariness +of extreme caution. That was easy to understand, +because Private Severance, too, stood under the charge +of having permitted a prisoner to escape, and his evidence +would confront him later when he in turn occupied +the dock.</p> +<p>“I didn’t have no speech with Bud Grant that +night,” he testified, “but I’d looked in some several +times through the window. It was a barred window, +an’ every time I peeked through it I could see Bud +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +layin’ there asleep. The moon fell acrost his cot so I +could see him plain.”</p> +<p>“When did you see him last?”</p> +<p>“After Major James had been in and come out—a full +fifteen minutes later. I’m able to swear to +that, because I noticed the moon just as the major +went out, and, when I looked in through the window +the last time, the moon was a full quarter hour lower +down to’rds settin’.”</p> +<p>After a moment’s pause the witness volunteered in +amplification: “Where I come from we don’t have +many clocks or watches. We goes by the sun and +moon.”</p> +<p>“Then you can swear that if Private Grant fired +the shot that killed Captain Comyn, he must have +escaped and eluded your sight; armed himself, crossed +the plaza; turned the corner; accomplished the act and +gotten clean away, all within the brief period of five +minutes?”</p> +<p>“I can swear to more than that. He didn’t get past +me till <i>after</i> the pistol went off. There wasn’t no +way out but by the one door, and I was right at that +door all the time until I left it.”</p> +<p>“When did you leave?”</p> +<p>The witness gave response without hesitation, yet +with the same serious weighing of his words.</p> +<p>“I was standing there, sorter peerin’ up at the stars +an’ beginning to feel right smart tired when I heard +the shot. I heard the shout of the corporal of the +guard, too, an’ then it was that I made my mistake.” +He paused and went on evenly. “I hadn’t ought to +have stirred away from my post, but it seemed like a +sort of a general alarm, an’ I went runnin’ to’rds it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +That was the first chanst Bud had to get away. When +I got back he was gone.”</p> +<p>“You are sure he was still there when the shot +sounded?”</p> +<p>“As God looks down, I can swear he was!”</p> +<p>Then the defense took the witness.</p> +<p>“When does your enlistment expire?”</p> +<p>“Two months, come Sunday.”</p> +<p>“You know to the day, don’t you? You are keenly +anxious for that day to come, aren’t you?”</p> +<p>“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got folks at home.”</p> +<p>“Haven’t you and Grant both been malcontents +throughout your entire period of service?”</p> +<p>“It’s news to me, if it’s true.”</p> +<p>“Haven’t you often heard Private Grant swear +vengeance against Captain Comyn?”</p> +<p>“Not no more than to belly-ache some little.”</p> +<p>“Is it not a fact that since you and Grant ran amuck +on the transport coming over, and Comyn put you +both in irons, the two of you had sworn vengeance +against him; that you had both taken the blood oath +to get him?”</p> +<p>Severance looked blankly at his questioner and +blankly shook his head.</p> +<p>“That’s all new tidings ter me,” he asserted with +entire calmness.</p> +<p>“Don’t you know that you deliberately let Grant out +immediately after the visit of Major James and slipped +him the pistol with which he fired the shot? Didn’t +you do that, knowing that when the report sounded +you could make it your excuse for leaving your post, +and then perjure yourself as to the time?”</p> +<p>“I know full well,” asserted the witness with an unshaken +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +composure, “that nothing like that didn’t +happen.”</p> +<p>Fact built on fact until even the defendant’s counsel +found himself arguing against a growing and ugly +conviction. The pistol had been identified as Spurrier’s, +and his explanation that he had left it hanging +in his holster at his quarters, whence some unknown +person might have abstracted it, lacked persuasiveness. +The defense built a structure of hypothesis +based upon the fact that the open door of Spurrier’s +room was visible from the house where Grant +had been tossing on his cot. The claim was urgently +advanced that a skulking lunatic might easily have +seen the glint of blued steel, and have been spurred in +his madness by the temptation of such an implement +ready to his hand. But that, too, was held to be a +fantastic claim. So the verdict was guilty and the sentence +life imprisonment. It must have been death, +had the case, for all its warp of presumption and woof +of logic, been other than circumstantial.</p> +<p>The defendant felt that this mitigation of the extreme +penalty was a misplaced mercy. The disgrace +could be no blacker and death would at least have +brought to its period the hideousness of the nightmare +which must now stretch endlessly into the future.</p> +<p>It was to a prisoner, sentenced and branded, that +Major Withers came one afternoon when the court-martial +of Lieutenant Spurrier had run its course as +topic-in-chief for the Officers’ Club at Manila. Other +matters were already crowding it out of the minds it +had profoundly shocked.</p> +<p>“I want to talk to you, Jack,” began the major +bluntly. “I want to talk to you with a candor that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +grows out of the affection we all felt for you—before +this damnable thing upset our little world. My God, +boy, you had life in your sling. You had every quality +that makes the soldier; you had every social requisite +except wealth. This besetting passion for gambling +has brought the whole train of disaster—as logically +as if you had killed him at the card table itself.”</p> +<p>“You are overlooking the fact, major,” interrupted +the prisoner dryly, “that I didn’t kill him. Moreover, +it’s too late now for the warning to benefit me. I dare +say in Leavenworth I shall have no trouble curbing +my passion for gaming.” He paused and added with +an irony of despairing bitterness: “But I suppose I +should thank you and say, like the negro standing on +the gallows, ’dis hyar is surely g’wine to be a great +lesson ter me.’” Suddenly the voice broke and the +young man wheeled to avert his face. “My God,” he +cried out, “why didn’t you let them hang me or shoot +me? Any man can stiffen his legs and his spine for +five minutes of dying—even public dying—but back +of those walls with a convict’s number instead of a +name——” There he broke off and the battalion +commander laid a hand on his heaving shoulder.</p> +<p>“I didn’t come to rub in preachments while you stood +at the edge of the scaffold or the jail, Jack. My warning +may not be too late, after all. We’ve passed the +matter up to the war department with a strong recommendation +for clemency. We mean to pull every +wire that can honorably be pulled. We’re making the +most of your good record heretofore and of the conviction +being based on circumstantial evidence.”</p> +<p>He paused a moment and then went on with a +trifle of embarrassment in his voice:</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></div> +<p>“You know that Senator Beverly is at the governor +general’s palace—and that his daughter is with him.”</p> +<p>Spurrier wheeled at that and stood facing his visitor +with eyes that had kindled, but in which the light at +once faded as he commented shortly:</p> +<p>“Neither the senator nor Augusta has made any +effort to see me since I was brought to Manila.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps the senator thought that was best, Jack,” +argued Withers. “For the daughter, of course, I’m +not prepared to speak—but I know that Beverly has +been keeping the cable hot in your behalf. Your name +has become so familiar to the operators between here +and Washington that they don’t spell it out any more: +they only need to rap out Sp. now—and if I needed a +voice to speak for me on Pennsylvania Avenue or on +Capitol Hill, there’s no man I’d pick before the +senator.”</p> +<p>When he had gone Spurrier sat alone and to his +ears came the distant playing of a band in the plaza. +Somewhere in that ancient town was the girl who had +not been to see him, nor written to him, even though, +just before his battalion had gone into the bosques +across the mountains, she had let him slip a ring on +her finger, and had answered “yes” to his question—the +most personal question in the world.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_III' id='CHAPTER_III'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +</div> +<p>There was a more assured light in Major +Withers’ eyes when he next came as a visitor +into the prison quarters, and the heartiness of +his hand clasp was in itself a congratulation.</p> +<p>“The thing was carried up to the president himself,” +he declared. “Washington is sick of you, Spurrier. +Because of you miles of red tape have been +snarled up. Departments have worked overtime until +the single hope of the United States government is that +it may never hear of you again. You don’t go to +prison, after all, my boy.”</p> +<p>“You mean I am pardoned?”</p> +<p>Then, remembering that the rose of his bringing +carried a sharp thorn the senior proceeded with a note +of concern sobering his voice.</p> +<p>“The red tape has not only been tangled because +of you—but it has tangled you in its meshes, too, +Spurrier. Yes, you are pardoned. You are as free +as I am—but ‘in view of the gravely convincing evidence, +et cetera, et cetera’—it seems that some sort +of compromise was deemed necessary.”</p> +<p>Spurrier stood where he had risen from his seat +and his eyes held those of his informant with a blending +of inquiry and suspense.</p> +<p>“What sort of compromise, major?”</p> +<p>“You leave the army with a dishonorable discharge. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +The world is open to you and you’ve got an equipment +for success—but you might as well recognize +from the start that you’re riding with a heavy impost +in your saddle clothes, my boy.” He paused a moment +and then, dropping his race-track metaphor, went hurriedly +on: “For myself, I think you’re guilty or innocent +and you ought to be hanged or clean-shriven. I +don’t get this dubious middle ground of freedom with +a tarnished name. It’s going to crop up to crab things +for you just when they hang in the balance, and I’m +damned if I can see its fairness! It will cause men to +look askance and to say ‘he was saved from rope-stretching +only by wire-pulling.’”</p> +<p>The major ended somewhat savagely and Spurrier +made no answer. He was gazing out at the patch of +blue that blazed hotly through the high, barred window +and, seeing there reminders of the bars sinister +that would henceforth stand between himself and the +sky.</p> +<p>The battalion chief interrupted the long pause to +suggest:</p> +<p>“The <i>Empress</i> sails on Tuesday. If I were you I’d +take passage on her. I suppose you will, won’t you?”</p> +<p>“That depends,” answered the liberated man hesitantly. +“I’ve got to thank the senator—and, though +she hasn’t sent me any message, there’s a question to +ask a girl.”</p> +<p>“It’s none of my business, of course, Spurrier,” +came the advising voice quietly. “But the Beverlys +have engaged passage on the <i>Empress</i>. If I were you, +I’d drop a formal note of gratitude and leave the rest +until you meet them aboard.”</p> +<p>After a moment’s thought the other nodded. “I’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +follow that suggestion. It may be less embarrassing +for—them.”</p> +<p>“The other fellows are going to send a sort of a +hamper down to the boat. There won’t be any cards, +but you’ll know that a spirit of Godspeed goes with +the stirrup cup.”</p> +<p>For an instant Spurrier looked puzzled and the +major, whose note of embarrassment had been growing +until it seemed to choke him, now spluttered and +sought to bury his confusion under a forced paroxysm +of coughing.</p> +<p>Then impulsively he thrust out his hand and +gripped that of the man of whom just now he could +remember only gallant things; soldierly qualities and +gently bred charm.</p> +<p>“In a fashion, Jack, you must shake hands with all +of them through me. I come as their proxy. They +can’t give you a blowout, you know. They can’t even +come to see you off. I can say what I like now. The +papers aren’t signed up yet, but afterward—well, you +know! Damn it, I forget the exact words that the +Articles of War employ—about an officer who goes +out—this way.”</p> +<p>“Don’t bother, major. I get your meaning.” Spurrier +took the proffered hand in both his own. “No +officer can give me social recognition. I believe the +official words are that I shall be ‘deemed ignominious.’ +Tell the boys I understand.”</p> +<p>On the sailing day John Spurrier, whose engagingly +bold eyes had not yet learned to evade the challenge +of any glance, timed his arrival on board almost as +surreptitiously as a stowaway. It was from behind +the closed door of his own stateroom that he listened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +to the deck commotion of laughter and leave-taking +and heard, when the whistle had shrieked its warning +to shore-going visitors, the grind of anchor chain on +winch and windlass.</p> +<p>That evening he dined in an inconspicuous corner +by arrangement with the dining-saloon steward, and +bolted his meal with nervous haste.</p> +<p>From afar, as he had stood in a companionway, he +had glimpsed a panama-hatted girl—a girl who did +not see him, and who had shown only between the +shifting heads and shoulders of the crowd. He could +not have told even had he been closer whether her +gloved left hand still wore upon its third finger the +ring that he had put there—before things had +happened.</p> +<p>He must face the issue of questioning her and being +questioned, and he hoped that he might have his first +meeting with her alone—free from the gaze of other +eyes that would torture him, and perhaps mortify her.</p> +<p>So when the moon had risen and the band had +begun its evening concert he slipped out on deck and +took up his station alone at the stern rail. It was not +entirely dark even here, but the light was mercifully +tempered, and upon the promenaders he turned his +back, remaining in a seclusion from which, with sidewise +glances, he appraised each figure that drifted by.</p> +<p>Once his eyes encountered those of a tall and elderly +gentleman in uniform upon whose shoulder straps +glittered the brigadier’s single star.</p> +<p>For an instant Spurrier forgot the sadly altered +color of his status and his hand, answering to instinct, +rose in salute, while his lips parted in a smile.</p> +<p>But the older man, who fortunately was alone, after +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +an embarrassed instant went on, pretending an absent-mindedness +that ignored the salutation. Spurrier +could feel that the general was scarcely more comfortable +than himself.</p> +<p>Slowly, at length, he left his outlook over the phosphorescent +wake and drifted isolatedly about the decks, +giving preference to the spots where the shadows lay +heaviest. But when his wandering brought him again +to the place he had abandoned at the stern, he found +that it had been preëmpted by another. A figure stood +there alone and so quiet that at first he hardly distinguished +it as separate from the black contour of a +capstan.</p> +<p>But with the realization he recognized a panama +hat, from under whose brim escaped a breeze-stirred +strand of dark hair, and promptly he stepped to the +rail, his rubber-soled shoes making no sound.</p> +<p>The girl did not hear him, nor did she, as he found +himself reflecting, feel his presence as lovers do in +romances, and turn to greet him before he announced +himself. But as she stood there in the shadow, with +moonlight and starlight around her, his pulses quickened +with an insupportable commotion of mingled +hope and fear.</p> +<p>Her beauty was that of the aristocrat. It was this +patrician quality which had first challenged his interest +in her and answered to his own inordinate pride of +self-confidence.</p> +<p>He had liked the lightness with which her small feet +trod the earth and the prideful tilt of her exquisitely +modeled chin.</p> +<p>After all, he had known her only a short time—and +now he realized that he did not know her well: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +certainly not well enough to estimate with any surety +how they would meet again, after an interval which +had tarnished the name that had come to him from +two generations of accrued distinction.</p> +<p>He bent forward, and, in a low voice, spoke her +name, and she turned without a start so that she stood +looking into his eyes.</p> +<p>“I suppose you know,” he began, and for once he +spoke without self-assurance, “that I didn’t hunt you +out sooner because I wanted to spare you embarrassment. +I knew you were sailing by this boat—and so +I took it, too.”</p> +<p>She nodded her head, but remained silent. Her +eyes met his and lingered, but they were like curtained +windows and told him nothing. It was as if she +wished to let him pitch the plane of their meeting +without interference, and he was grateful.</p> +<p>“I don’t suppose,” he began, forcing himself to +speak with forthright directness, “I need protest my +innocence to you—and I don’t suppose I need confess +that the stigma will stick to me—that in—some quarters—it +will mean ostracism. I wanted to meet you +the first time alone as much for your sake as my own.”</p> +<p>“I know——” she agreed faintly, but there was no +rush of confidence, of sympathy that thought only of +the black situation in which he stood.</p> +<p>“I know, too,” he went on with the same steadiness, +“that but for your father’s efforts I should have had +to spend the rest of my life in prison. Above all, I +know that your father made those efforts because you +ordained it.”</p> +<p>“It was too horrible,” she whispered with a little +shudder. “It was inconceivable.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></div> +<p>“It still is,” he reminded her. “There is a question, +then, to be asked—a question for you to answer.”</p> +<p>The girl’s hands dropped on the rail and her fingers +tightened as her eyes, deeply pained, went off across +the wake. She seemed unable to help him, unable to +do more than give back monosyllabic responses to the +things he said.</p> +<p>“Of course, I can’t assume that the promise you +gave me—before all this—still stands, unless you can +ratify it. I’m the same man, yet quite a different +man.”</p> +<p>At last she turned, and he saw that her lashes were +wet with tears.</p> +<p>“Some day,” she suggested almost pleadingly, “some +day surely you will be able to clear your name—now +that you’re free to give yourself to it.”</p> +<p>He shook his head, “That is going to be the purpose +of my life,” he answered. “But God only +knows——”</p> +<p>“When you have done that,” she impetuously exclaimed, +“come back to me. I’ll wait.”</p> +<p>But Spurrier shook his head and stiffened a little, +not indignantly, but painfully, and his face grew paler +than it had yet been.</p> +<p>“That is generous of you,” he said slowly. “That +is the best I had the right to hope for—but it’s not +enough. It would be a false position for you—with a +mortgage of doubt on your future. I’ve got to face +this thing nakedly. I’ve got to depend only on those +people who don’t need proof—who simply know that +I must be innocent of—of <i>this</i> because it would be impossible +for me to be guilty of it—people,” he added, +his voice rising with just a moment’s betrayal of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +boyish passion, “who will take the seeming facts, just +as they are, and still say, ‘Damn the facts!’”</p> +<p>“Can I do that?” She asked the question honestly, +with eyes in which sincere tears glistened, and at last +words came in freshet volume. “Can I ignore the +fact that father is in public life, where his affairs and +those of his family are public property? You know +he is talked of as presidential timber. Can I ask him +to move heaven and earth to give you back your +liberty—and then have his critics say that it was all +for a member of his own family—a private use of +public power?”</p> +<p>“Then you want your promise back?” he demanded +quietly.</p> +<p>Suddenly the girl carried her hands to her face, a +face all the lovelier for its distress. “I don’t—know +what—I want,” she gasped.</p> +<p>Her lover stood looking down at her, and his +temples grew coldly moist where the veins stood out.</p> +<p>“If you don’t know what you want, dear, I know +one thing that you can’t do,” he said. “Under these +circumstances, your only chance of happiness would +lie in your wanting one thing so much that the rest +wouldn’t count.” He paused, and then he, too, moved +aside and stood with her, leaning on the rail while +in the phosphorescent play of the water and the broken +reflections of the low-hung stars he seemed to find a +sort of anodyne.</p> +<p>“I said that what you offered was the most I had +the right to hope for. That was true. Your father’s +objections are legitimate. I owe you both more than +I can ever pay—but I won’t add to that debt.”</p> +<p>“I thought,” said the girl miserably, “that I loved +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +you—enough for anything. The shock of all this—has +made my mind swirl so that now—I’m not sure of +anything.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said dully, “I understand.”</p> +<p>Yet perhaps what he understood, or thought he +understood, just then was either more or less than +implied in the deferential compliance of his voice. +This girl had given her promise to an officer and a +gentleman with two generations of gallant army +record behind him and a promising future ahead. She +was talking now to one who, in the words of the Articles +of War was neither an officer nor a gentleman and +who had been saved from life imprisonment only by +influence of her own importuning.</p> +<p>Her own distress of mind and incertitude were so +palpable and pathetic that the man had spoken with +apology in his voice, because through him she had +been forced into her dilemma. Yet, until now, he had +been young enough and naïve enough to believe in +certain tenets of romance—and, in romance, a woman +who really loved a man would not be weighing at +such a time her father’s aspirations toward the White +House. In romance, even had he been as guilty as +perdition, he would have stood in her eyes, incapable +of crime. Palpably life and romance followed variant +laws and, for a bitter moment, Spurrier wished that +the senator had kept hands off, and left him to his fate.</p> +<p>He had heard the senator himself characterized as +a man cold-bloodedly ambitious and contemptuous of +others and, having seen only the genial side of that +prominent gentleman, he had resentfully denied such +statements and made mental comment of the calumny +that attaches to celebrity.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span></div> +<p>Yet, Spurrier argued to himself, the girl was right. +Quite probably if he had a sister similarly placed, he +would be seeking to show her the need of curbing impulse +with common sense.</p> +<p>From a steamer chair off somewhere at their backs +came a low peal of laughter, and the orchestra was +busy with a fox trot. For perhaps five minutes neither +of them spoke again, but at last the girl twisted the +ring from her finger. At least her loyalty had kept it +there until she could remove it in his presence. She +handed it to him and he turned it this way and that. +The moonlight teased from its setting a jet of cold +radiance.</p> +<p>Then Spurrier tossed it outward and watched the +white arc of its bright vanishing. He heard a muffled +sob and saw the girl turn and start toward the companionway +door. Instinctively he took a step forward +following, then halted and stood where he was.</p> +<p>Later, Spurrier forced himself toward the smoke +room where already under cigar and cigarette smoke, +poker and bridge games were in progress, and where +in little groups those men who were not playing discussed +the topics of East and West. He was following +no urge of personal fancy in entering that place, +but rather obeying a resolution he had made out there +on deck. Now that he had asked his question and +had his answer there was nothing from which he +could afford to hide. He knew that he came heralded +by the advance agency of gossip and that it behooved +him from the start to meet and give back +glance for glance: to declare by his bearing that he +had no intention of skulking, and no apologies to +make.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span></div> +<p>Yet, having reached the entrance from the deck, +he hesitated, and while he still stood, with his back to +the lighted door of the smoke room, he reeled under +a sudden impact and was thrown against the rail. Recovering +himself with an exclamation of anger, Spurrier +found himself confronting a man rising from his +knees, whose awkwardness had caused the collision.</p> +<p>But the stumbling person having regained his feet, +stood seemingly shaken by his fall, and after a +moment, during which Spurrier eyed him with hostile +silence, exclaimed:</p> +<p>“Plunger Spurrier!”</p> +<p>“That is not my name, sir,” retorted the ex-officer +hotly. “And it’s not one that I care to have strangers +employ.”</p> +<p>The man drew back a step, and the light from the +doorway fell across a face a little beyond middle age; +showing a broad forehead and strongly chiseled features +upon which sat an expression of directness and +force.</p> +<p>“My apology is, at least, as ready as was my exclamation,” +declared the stranger in a pleasant voice +that disarmed hostility. “The term was not meant +offensively. I saw you at Oakland one day when a +race was run, and I’ve heard certain qualities of yours +yarned about at mess tables in the East. I ask your +pardon.”</p> +<p>“It’s granted,” acceded Spurrier of necessity. “And +since you’ve heard of me, you doubtless know enough +to make allowances for my short temper and excuse +it.”</p> +<p>“I <i>have</i> heard your story,” admitted the other man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +frankly. “My name is Snowdon. It’s just possible +you may have heard of me, too.”</p> +<p>“You’re not Snowdon the engineer: the Panama +Canal man, the Chinese railway builder, are you?”</p> +<p>“I had a hand in those enterprises,” was the answer, +and with a slight bow the gentleman went his way.</p> +<p>The spot where the two men had stood talking was +far enough aft to look down on the space one deck +lower and one degree farther astern, where, as through +a well space, showed the meaner life of the steerage. +There was a light third-class list on this voyage, and +when Spurrier moved out of the obscurity which had +been thrown over him by the life boat’s shadow, he +stood gazing idly down on an empty prospect. He +gazed with an interest too moodily self-centered for +easy inciting.</p> +<p>He himself stood now clear shown under the frosted +globe of an overhead light and, after a little, roused +to a tepid curiosity, he fancied he could make out +what seemed to be a human figure that clung to the +blackest of the shadows below him.</p> +<p>He even fancied that in that lower darkness he +caught the momentary dull glint of metal reflecting +some half light, and an impression of furtive movement +struck in upon him. But after a moment’s +scrutiny, which failed to clarify the picture, he decided +that his imagination had invented the vague shape out +of nothing more tangible than shadow. If there had +been a man there he seemed to have dissolved now.</p> +<p>So Spurrier turned away.</p> +<p>Had his eyes possessed a nearer kinship to those of +the cat, which can read the dark, he would have altered +his course of action from that instant forward. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +would, first, have gone to the captain and demanded +permission to search the steerage for an ex-private of +the infantry company that had lately been his own; a +private against whose name on the muster roll stood +the entry: “Dead or deserted.”</p> +<p>Yet when he turned on his heel and passed from +the lighted area he unconsciously walked out of range +of a revolver aimed at his breast—thereby temporarily +settling for the man who fingered the trigger his question, +“to shoot or not to shoot.”</p> +<p>For Private Grant, a fleeing deserter, convalescent +from fever and lunacy, had been casting up the +chances of his own life just then and debating the dangers +and advantages of letting Spurrier live. Recognizing +his former officer as he himself looked out of +his hiding, his first impulse had been one of panic +terror and in Spurrier he had seen a pursuer.</p> +<p>The finger had twitched nervously on the trigger—then +while he wavered in decision the other had +calmly walked out of range. Now, if he kept out of +sight until they reached Frisco, the deserter told himself, +a larger territory would spread itself for his +escape than the confines of a steamer, and he belonged +to a race that can bide its time.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV' id='CHAPTER_IV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +</div> +<p>Spurrier entered the smoke room and stood +for a moment in its threshold.</p> +<p>There were uniforms there, and some men in +them whom he had known, though now these other-time +acquaintances avoided his eye and the necessity +of an embarrassment which must have come from +meeting it.</p> +<p>But from an alcove seat near the door rose a +stocky gentleman, well groomed and indubitably distinguished +of guise, who had been tearing the covering +from a bridge deck.</p> +<p>“Spurrier, my boy,” he exclaimed cordially, “I’m +glad to see you. I read your name on the list. Won’t +you join us?”</p> +<p>This was the man who had rolled away the mountains +of official inertia and saved him from prison; +who had stipulated with his daughter that she should +not write to him in his cell; and who now embraced +the first opportunity to greet him publicly with cordial +words. Here, reflected the cashiered soldier, was poise +more calculated than his own, and he smiled as he +shook his head, giving the answer which he knew to +be expected of him.</p> +<p>“No, thank you, senator.” Then he added a request: +“But if these gentlemen can spare you for a +few minutes I would appreciate a word with you.”</p> +<p>“Certainly, my boy.” With a glance about the little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +company which made his excuses, Beverly rose and +linked his arm through Spurrier’s, but when they +stood alone on deck that graciousness stiffened immediately +into manner more austere.</p> +<p>“I’ve seen Augusta,” began the younger man briefly, +“and told her I wouldn’t seek to hold her to her +promise. I suppose that meets with your approval?”</p> +<p>The public man, whom rumor credited with presidential +aspirations, nodded. “Under the circumstances +it is necessary. I may as well be candid. I +tried vainly to persuade her to throw you over entirely, +but I had to end in a compromise. She agreed +not to communicate with you in any manner until +your trial came to its conclusion.”</p> +<p>The cashiered officer felt his temples hammering +with the surge of indignant blood to his forehead. +This man who had so studiedly and successfully +feigned genuine pleasure at seeing him, when other +eyes were looking on, was telling him now with salamander +coolness that he had urged upon his daughter +the policy of callous desertion. The impulse toward +resentful retort was almost overpowering, but with +it came the galling recognition that, except for Beverly’s +bull-dog pertinacity, Spurrier himself would +have been a life-termer, and that now humility became +him better than anger.</p> +<p>“Did you seek to have Augusta throw me over, +without even a farewell—because you believed me +guilty, sir?” His inquiry came quietly and the older +man shook a noncommittal head.</p> +<p>“It’s not so much what I think as what the world +will think,” he made even response. “To put it in +the kindest words, Spurrier, you rest under a cloud.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span></div> +<p>“Senator,” said the other in measured syllables, “I +rest, also, under a great weight of obligation to you, +but, there were times, sir, when for a note from her +I’d willingly have accepted the death penalty.”</p> +<p>“I won’t pretend that I fail to understand—even +to sympathize with you,” came the answer. “You +must see none the less that I had no alternative. Augusta’s +husband must be—well, like Cæsar’s wife.”</p> +<p>“There is nothing more to be said, I think,” admitted +Spurrier, and the senator held out his hand.</p> +<p>“In every other matter, I feel only as your friend. +It will be better if to other eyes our relations remain +cordial. Otherwise my efforts on your behalf would +give the busy-bodies food for gossip. That’s what we +are both seeking to avoid.”</p> +<p>Spurrier bowed and watched the well-groomed figure +disappear.</p> +<p>The cloudless days and the brilliant nights of low-hung +stars and phosphor waters were times of memorable +opportunity and paradise for other lovers on +that steamer. For Spurrier they were purgatorial +and when he realized Augusta Beverly’s clearly indicated +wish that he should leave her free from the embarrassment +of any tete-a-tete, he knew definitely that +her silence was as final as words could have made it. +The familiar panama hat seen at intervals and the +curve of the cheek that he had once been privileged to +kiss seemed now to belong to an orbit of life remote +from his own with an utterness of distance no less +actual because intangible.</p> +<p>The young soldier’s nature, which had been prodigally +generous, began to harden into a new and unlovely +bitterness. Once he passed her as she leaned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +on the rail with a young lieutenant who was going to +the States on his first leave from Island duty, and +when the girl met his eyes and nodded, the cub of an +officer looked up—and cut him dead with needless +ostentation.</p> +<p>For the old general, who had pretended not to see +him, Jack Spurrier had felt only the sympathy due to +a man bound and embarrassed by a severe code of +etiquette, but with this cocksure young martinet, his +hands itched for chastisement.</p> +<p>Throughout the trying voyage Spurrier felt that +Snowdon, the engineer, was holding him under an interested +sort of observation, and this surveillance he +mildly resented, though the entire politeness of the +other left him helpless to make his feeling outspoken. +But when they had stood off from Honolulu and +brought near to completion the last leg of the Pacific +voyage, Snowdon invited him into his own stateroom +and with candid directness spoke his mind.</p> +<p>“Spurrier,” he began, “I’d like to have a straight +talk with you if you will accept my assurance of the +most friendly motive.”</p> +<p>Spurrier was not immediately receptive. He sat +eying the other for a little while with a slight frown +between his eyes, but in the end he nodded.</p> +<p>“I should dislike to seem churlish,” he answered +slowly. “But I’ve had my nerves rubbed raw of +late, and they haven’t yet grown callous.”</p> +<p>“You see, it’s rather in my line,” suggested Snowdon +by way of preface, “to assay the minerals of character +in men and to gauge the percentage of pay-dirt +that lies in the lodes of their natures. So I’ve watched +you, and if you care to have the results of my superficial +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +research, I’m ready to report. No man knows +himself until introduced to himself by another, because +one can’t see one’s self at sufficient distance to +gain perspective.”</p> +<p>Spurrier smiled. “So you’re like the announcer at +a boxing match,” he suggested. “You’re ready to +say, ‘Plunger Spurrier, shake hands with Jack Spurrier—both +members of this club.’”</p> +<p>“Precisely,” assented Snowdon as naturally as +though there had been no element of facetiousness in +the suggestion. “And now in the first place, what do +you mean to do with yourself?”</p> +<p>“I have no idea.”</p> +<p>“I suppose you have thought of the possibilities +open to a West Point man—as a soldier of fortune?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” the answer was unenthusiastic. “Thought +of them and discarded them.”</p> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>The voice laughed and then spoke contemptuously.</p> +<p>“A man’s sword belongs to his flag. It can no +more be honorably hired out than a woman’s love. I +can see in either only a form of prostitution.”</p> +<p>“Good!” exclaimed Snowdon heartily. “I couldn’t +have coached you to a better answer. Are you financially +independent?”</p> +<p>“On the contrary, I have nothing. Until now there +was my pay and——” He paused there but went on +again with a dogged self-forcing. “I might as well +confess that the gaming table has always left a balance +on my side of the ledger.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t seen you playing since you came aboard.”</p> +<p>“No. I’ve cut that out——”</p> +<p>“Good again—and that brings us to where I stop +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +eliciting information about yourself and begin giving +it. I had heard of your gambling exploits before I +saw you. I found that you had that cold quality of +nerve which a few gamblers have, fewer than are +credited with it, by far! Incidentally, it’s precisely +the same quality that makes notable generals—and +adroit diplomats—if they have the other qualities to +support it. It’s sublimated self-control and boldness. +You were using it badly, but it was because you were +seeking an outlet through the wrong channels. So I +studied you, quite impersonally. Your situation on +board wasn’t easy or enviable. You knew that eyes +followed you and tongues wagged about you with a +morbid interest. You saw chatting groups fall abruptly +silent when you approached them and officers +you had once fraternized with look hurriedly elsewhere. +In short, my young friend, you have faced +an acid test of ordeal, and you have borne yourself +with neither the defiance of braggadocio, nor the visible +hint of flinching. If I were looking for a certain +type of specialized ability, I should say you had qualified.”</p> +<p>A flush spread on the face of the listener.</p> +<p>“You are indeed introducing me to some one I +haven’t known,” he said.</p> +<p>“I know, too,” went on Snowdon, “that there has +been a girl—and,” he hastened to add as his companion +stiffened, “I mention her only to show you +that my observations have not been <i>too</i> superficial. +Those qualities which I have catalogued have engaged +my attention, because they are rare—rare enough to +be profitably capitalized.”</p> +<p>“All this is parable to me, sir.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></div> +<p>“Quite probably. I mean to construe it. There are +men who originate or discover great opportunities of +industry—and they need capital to bring their plans +to fruition—but capital can be approached only +through envoys and will receive only ambassadors who +can compel recognition. The man who can hope to be +successfully accredited to the court of Big Money +must possess uncommon attributes. Pinch-beck promoters +and plausible charlatans have made cynics of +our lords of wealth.”</p> +<p>“What would such a man accomplish,” inquired +Spurrier, “aside from a sort of non-resident membership +in the association of plutocrats?”</p> +<p>“He would,” declared Snowdon promptly, “help +bridge the chasm between the world’s unfinanced +achievers, and its unachieving finances.”</p> +<p>“That,” conceded the ex-soldier, “would be worth +the doing.”</p> +<p>“John Law at twenty-one built a scheme of finance +for Great Britain,” the engineer reminded him. “He +could come into the presence of a king and in five minutes +the king would urge him to stay. Force and presence +can make such an ambassador, and those things +are the veins of human ore I’ve assayed in you in +paying quantities.”</p> +<p>Spurrier looked across at the strange companion +whom chance had thrown across his path with a commotion +of pulses which his face in no wise mirrored +into outward expression. It had begun to occur to +him that if a man is born for an adventurous life +even the Articles of War cannot cancel his destiny.</p> +<p>“It would seem,” he suggested casually enough, +“that this need of which you speak is for fellows, in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +finance, who can carry the message to Garcia, as it +were. Isn’t that it?”</p> +<p>“That’s it, and messengers to Garcia don’t tramp on +each other’s heels. Yet I have spoken of only one +phase of the career I’m outlining. It has another side +to it as well, if one man is going to unite in himself +the whole of the possibility.”</p> +<p>Snowdon broke off there a moment and seemed to +be distracted by some thought of his own, but presently +he began again.</p> +<p>“My hypothetical man would act largely as a free +lance, knocking about the world on a sort of constantly +renewed exploration. He would be the prospector +hunting gold and the explorer searching for +new continents of industrial development, only instead +of being just the one or the other he would be a +sort of sublimation. His job would sometimes call +him into the wildernesses, but more often, I think, his +discoveries would lie under the noses of crowds, +passed by every day by clever folk who never saw +them—clever folk who are not quite clever enough.”</p> +<p>“It would seem to me that those discoveries,” demurred +Spurrier thoughtfully, “would come each time +to some highly trained technician in some particular +line.”</p> +<p>Snowdon shook his head again. “That’s why they +have come slowly heretofore,” he declared with conviction. +“That man I have in mind is one with a +sure nose for the trail and a power of absorbing readily +and rapidly what he requires of the other man’s +technical knowledge. It’s the policy that Japan has +followed as a nation. They let others work the problems +out over there—then they appropriate the results. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +I’m not commending it as a national trait, but +for this work it’s the first essential. Having made +his discovery, this new type of business man will +enlist for it the needful financial support.” He paused +again and Spurrier, lighting a fresh cigarette, regarded +him through eyes slit-narrowed against the +flare of the match.</p> +<p>“He must be a sort of opportunity hound,” continued +Snowdon smilingly. “He would go baying +across the world in full cry and come back to the kennel +at the end of each chase.”</p> +<p>Spurrier laughed. “If you’ll pardon me, sir,” he +hazarded, “you make a very bad metaphor. I should +fancy that the opportunity hound would do the stillest +sort of still hunting.”</p> +<p>The older man smiled and bowed his head affirmatively.</p> +<p>“I accept the amendment. The point is, do I give +you the concept of the work?”</p> +<p>“In a broad, extremely sketchy way, I think I get +the picture,” replied Spurrier. “But could you give +me some sort of illustration that would make it a +shade more concrete?”</p> +<p>His companion sat considering the question for a +while and at last inquired: “Do you know anything +about oil? I mean about its production?”</p> +<p>“I’ve been on the Pennsylvania Railroad, coming +west,” testified the former lieutenant. “And I’ve run +through ragged hills where on every side, stood +clumsy, timber affairs like overgrown windmills from +which some victorious Don Quizote had knocked off +the whirligigs. Then I’ve read a little of Ida Tarbell.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span></div> +<p>“Even that will serve for a sort of background. +Now, people in general think of striking oil as they +might think of finding money on the sidewalk or of +lightning striking a particular spire—as a matter of +purest chance. To some extent that idea is correct +enough, but the brains of oil production are less haphazard. +In the office of a few gentlemen who hold +dominion over oil and gas hangs a map drawn by the +intelligence department of their general staff. On that +map are traced lines not unlike those showing ocean +currents, but their arrows point instead to currents +far under ground, where runs the crude petroleum, +discovered—and undiscovered.”</p> +<p>“Undiscovered?” Spurrier’s brows were lifted in +polite incredulity, but his companion nodded decisively.</p> +<p>“Discovered and undiscovered,” he repeated. +“Geological surveys told the mapmakers how certain +lines and structures ran in tendency. Where went a +particular formation of Nature’s masonry, there in +probability would go oil. The method was not absolute, +I grant you, but neither was it haphazard. Sitting +in an office in Pittsburgh a certain man drew on his +chart what has since been recognized as the line of +the forty-second degree, running definitely from the +Pennsylvania fields down through Ohio and into the +Appalachian hills of Kentucky—thence west and +south. Study your fields in Oklahoma, in old Mexico, +and you will find that, widely separated as they are, +each of them is marked by a cross on that map, and +that each of them lies along the current trend which +the Pittsburgh man traced before many of them were +touched by a drill.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span></div> +<p>“That, surely,” argued Spurrier, “testifies for the +highly skilled technician, doesn’t it?”</p> +<p>“So far. I now come to the chance of the opportunity +hound. The present fields are spots of production +here and there. Between them lie others, +virgin to pump or rig. Much of that ground is, of +course, barren territory, for even on an acre of proven +location dry holes may lie close to gushers; one +man’s farm may be a ‘duster’ while his neighbor’s +spouts black wealth. But along that charted +line run the probabilities.”</p> +<p>Into Spurrier’s eyes stole the gleam of the adventuring +spirit that was strong in him.</p> +<p>“It sounds like Robert Louis Stevenson and buried +treasure,” he declared with unconcealed enthusiasm, +but Snowdon only smiled.</p> +<p>“Remember,” he cautioned, “I’m illustrating—nothing +more. Now in the foothills of the Kentucky +Cumberlands, for example, some years ago men began +finding oil. It lay for the most part in a country +where the roads were creek beds—remote from railway +facilities. It was an expensive sort of proposition +to develop, but the cry of ‘Oil! Oil!’ has never +failed to set the pack a-running, and it ran.”</p> +<p>“I don’t remember hearing of that rush,” admitted +Spurrier.</p> +<p>“No, I dare say you didn’t. It was a flare-up and a +die-down. The men who rushed in, plodded dejectedly +out again, poorer by the time they had spent.”</p> +<p>“Then the boom collapsed?”</p> +<p>“It collapsed—but why? Because the gentlemen +who hold dominion over oil and gas caucussed and so +ordained. They gathered around their map and stuck +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +pins here and there. They said, ‘This oil can come +out in two ways only: by pipe line or tank cars. We +will stand aloof and develop where the cost is less and +the profit greater—and without us, it cannot succeed.’”</p> +<p>“Were there no independent concerns to bring the +stuff to market?”</p> +<p>Snowdon laughed. “The gentlemen who hold dominion +have their own defenses against competition. +You may have heard of a certain dog in the manger? +Well, they said as they sat about their table on which +the map was spread, ‘Some day other fields may run +out. Some day something may set oil soaring until +even this yield may be well worth our attention. We +will therefore hold this card in reserve against that +day and that contingency.’ So quietly, inconspicuously, +yet with a power that strangled competition, +lobbies operated in State legislatures. The independents +failed to secure needful charters—the lines were +never laid. Those particular fields starved, and now +the ignorant mountaineers who woke for a while to +dreams of wealth, laugh at the man who says ‘oil’ to +them. Yet at some properly, or improperly designated +day, those failure fields will flash on the astonished +world as something risen from the dead, and +fortunes will blossom for the lucky.”</p> +<p>“Yes?” prompted the listener.</p> +<p>“Now let us suppose our opportunity hound as willing +to go unostentatiously into that country; as willing +to spend part of each year there for a term of +years; nipping options here and there, waiting patiently +and watching his chance to slip a charter +through one of those bound and gagged legislatures in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +some moment of relaxed vigilance. Such a man might +find himself ultimately standing with the key to the +situation in his own hand. It’s just a story, but perhaps +it serves to give you my meaning.”</p> +<p>“Did I understand you to suggest,” inquired Spurrier +with a forced calmness, “that you fancy you see +in me the qualities of your opportunity hound?”</p> +<p>“Our own concern,” said Snowdon quietly, “is fortunate +enough to have passed through the period of +cooling its heels in the anterooms of capital, but we +can still use a man such as I have described. There’s +a place for you with us if you want it.”</p> +<p>“When do I go to work?” demanded the former +lieutenant rising from his seat, and Snowdon countered:</p> +<p>“When will you be ready to begin?”</p> +<p>“When we dock at ’Frisco,” came the immediate response, +“provided I be allowed time for an affair of +my own, two months from now. A certain private in +my old company will be discharged from the service +then. I fancy he’ll land there, and I want to be waiting +for him when he steps ashore.”</p> +<p>“A reprisal?” inquired Snowdon in a disappointed +tone, but the other shook his head.</p> +<p>“He is the one man through whom there’s a chance +of clearing my name,” Spurrier said slowly. “I hope +it won’t call for violence.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V' id='CHAPTER_V'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +</div> +<p>Private Grant had been bred of the blood of +hatred and suckled in vindictiveness. He had +come into being out of the heritage of feud +fighting “foreparents,” and he thought in the terms of +his ancestry.</p> +<p>When he had fled into the jungle beyond the island +village, though he had been demented and enfeebled, +the instinct of a race that had often “hidden out” +guided him. That instinct and chance had led him to +a native house where his disloyalty gave him a welcome, +and there he had found sanctuary until his fever +subsided and he emerged cadaverous, but free. Word +had filtered through to him there of Spurrier’s court-martial +and its result.</p> +<p>In the course of time, fever-wasted yet restored out +of his semi-lunacy, he had made his way furtively +but successfully toward Manila and there he had supplemented +the sketchy fragments of information with +which his disloyal native friends had been able to provide +him.</p> +<p>He knew now that the accused officer had pitched +his defense upon an accusation of the deserter and +the refugee’s eyes smoldered as he learned that he +himself had been charged with prefacing his flight +with murder. He knew what that meant. The disgraced +officer would move heaven and earth to clear +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +his smirched name, and the condition precedent would +be the capture of Private Grant and the placing of him +in the prisoner’s dock. To be wanted for desertion +was grave enough. To be wanted both for desertion +and the assassination of his company commander was +infinitely worse, and to stand in that position and face, +as he believed he would have to, a conspiracy of class +feeling, was intolerable.</p> +<p>Haunting the shadowy places about Manila, Grant +had been almost crazed by his fears but with the lifting +of the steamer’s anchor, a great spirit of hope had +brightened in him, feeding on the solace of the thought +that, once more in the States, he could lose himself +from pursuit and vigilance.</p> +<p>Then he had seen, on the same ship, the face of the +man whom, above all others, he had occasion to fear!</p> +<p>For their joint lives the world was not large +enough. One of them must die, and in the passion +that swept over him with the dread of discovery. +Grant had skirted a relapse into his recent mania.</p> +<p>At that moment when Spurrier had looked down +and he had looked up, the deserter had seen only one +way out, and that was to kill. But when the other had +moved away, seemingly without recognition, his +thoughts had moved more lucidly again.</p> +<p>Until he had tried soldiering he had known only +the isolated life of forested mountains and here on a +ship at sea he felt surrounded and helpless—almost +timid. When he landed at San Francisco, if his luck +held him undiscovered that long, he would have dry +land under him and space into which to flee.</p> +<p>The refugee had hated Comyn. Now Comyn was +dead and Grant transferred his hatred from the dead +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +captain to the living lieutenant, resolving that he also +must die.</p> +<p>The moment to which he looked forward with the +most harrowing apprehension was that when the vessel +docked and put her passengers ashore. Here at +sea a comforting isolation lay between first and third +cabin passengers and one could remain unseen from +those deck levels that lay forward and above. But +with the arrangements for disembarkation, he was unfamiliar, +and for all he knew, the steerage people +might be herded along under the eyes of those who +traveled more luxuriously. He might have to march +in such a procession, willy-nilly, over a gang-plank +swept by a watchful eye.</p> +<p>So Private Grant brooded deeply and his thoughts +were not pretty. Also he kept his pistol near him and +when the hour for debarkation arrived he was ripe for +trouble.</p> +<p>It happened that a group of steerage passengers, +including himself, were gathered together much as he +had feared they might be, and Grant’s face paled and +hardened as he saw, leaning with his elbows on a rail +above him and a pipe in his mouth, the officer whom +he dreaded.</p> +<p>Grant’s hand slipped unobtrusively under his coat +and his eyes narrowed as his heart tightened and became +resolved.</p> +<p>Spurrier had not yet seen him but at any moment he +might do so. There was nothing to prevent the wandering +and casual glance from alighting on the spot +where the deserter stood, and when it did so the +mountaineer would draw and fire.</p> +<p>But as the ex-officer’s eyes went absently here and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +there a girl passed at his back and perhaps she spoke +as she passed. At all events the officer straightened +and stiffened. Across his face flashed swiftly such an +expression as might have come from a sudden and +stinging blow, and then, losing all interest in the bustle +of the lower decks, the man turned on his heel and +walked rapidly away.</p> +<p>The deserter’s hand stole away from the pistol +grip and his breath ran out in a long, sibilant gasp of +relief and reaction. When later he had landed safely +and unmolested, he turned in flight toward the mountains +that he knew over there across the continent—mountains +where only bloodhounds could run him to +earth.</p> +<p>Beyond the rims of those forest-tangled peaks he +had never looked out until he had joined the army, and +once back in them, though he dare not go, for a while, +to his own home county, he could shake off his palsy +of fear.</p> +<p>He traveled as a hobo, moneyless, ignorant, and unprepossessing +of appearance, yet before the leaves +began to fall he was at last tramping slopes where the +air tasted sweeter to his nostrils, and the speech of +mankind fell on his ear with the music of the accustomed.</p> +<p>The name of Bud Grant no longer went with him. +That, since it carried certain unfulfilled duties to an +oath of allegiance, he generously ceded to the United +States Army, and contented himself with the random +substitute of Sim Colby.</p> +<p>Now he tramped swingingly along a bowlder-broken +creek bed which by local euphemism was called +a road. When his way led him over the backbone of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +a ridge he could see, almost merged with the blue of +the horizon, the smoky purple of a sugar loaf peak, +which marked his objective.</p> +<p>When he passed that he would be in territory where +his journeying might end. To reach it he must +transverse the present vicinity in which a collateral +branch of his large family still dwelt, and where he +himself preferred to walk softly, wary of possible recognition.</p> +<p>To the man whose terror had seen in every casual +eye that rested on him while he crossed a continent, +a gleam of accusation, it was as though he had reached +sanctuary. The shoulders that he had forced into a +hang-dog slough to disguise the soldierly bearing which +had become habitual in uniform, came back into a +more buoyant and upright swing. The face that had +been sullen with fear now looked out with something +of the bravado of earlier days, and the whole experience +of the immediate past; of months and even years, +took on the unreality of a nightmare from which he +was waking.</p> +<p>The utmost of caution was still required, but the +long flight was reaching a goal where substantial +safety lay like a land of promise. It was a land of +promise broken with ragged ranges and it was +fiercely austere; the Cumberland mountains reared +themselves like a colossal and inhospitable wall of isolation +between the abundant richness of lowland Kentucky +to the west, and Virginia’s slope seaward to the +east.</p> +<p>But isolation spelled refuge and the taciturn silences +of the men who dwelt there, asking few questions and +answering fewer, gave promise of unmolested days.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span></div> +<p>These hills were a world in themselves; a world +that had stood, marking time for a hundred and fifty +years, while to east and west life had changed and +developed and marched with the march of the years. +Sequestered by broken steeps of granite and sand +stone, the human life that had come to the coves and +valleys in days when the pioneers pushed westward, +had stagnated and remained unaltered.</p> +<p>Illiteracy and ignorance had sprung chokingly into +weed-like prevalence. The blood-feud still survived +among men who fiercely insisted upon being laws unto +themselves. Speech fell in quaint uncouthness that +belonged to another century, and the tides of progress +that had risen on either hand, left untouched and +uninfluenced the men and women of mountain blood, +who called their lowland brethren “furriners” and +who distrusted all that was “new-fangled” or +“fotched-on.”</p> +<p>Habitations were widely separated cabins. Roads +were creekbeds. Life was meager and stern, and in +the labyrinths of honeycombed and forest-tangled +wilds, men who were “hidin’ out” from sheriffs, from +revenuers, from personal enemies, had a sentimental +claim on the sympathy of the native-born.</p> +<p>This was the life from which the deserter had +sprung. It was the life to which with eager impatience +he was returning; a life of countless hiding places and +of no undue disposition to goad a man with questioning.</p> +<p>Through the billowing richness of the Bluegrass +lowlands, he had hurried with a homing throb in his +pulses. As the foothills began to break out of the fallow +meadows and the brush to tangle at the fringe of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +the smoothness, his breath had come deeper and more +satisfying. When the foothills rose in steepness until +low, wet streamers of cloud trailed their slopes like +shrapnel smoke, and the timber thickened and he saw +an eagle on the wing, something like song broke into +being in his heart.</p> +<p>He was home. Home in the wild mountains where +air and the water had zest and life instead of the +staleness that had made him sick in the flat world +from which he came. He was home in the mountains +where others were like him and he was not a barbarian +any longer among contemptuous strangers.</p> +<p>He plodded along the shale-bottomed water course +for a little way and halted. As his woodsman’s eye +took bearings he muttered to himself: “Hit’s a right +slavish way through them la’rel hills, but hit’s a cut-off,” +and, suiting his course to his decision, he turned +upward into the thickets and began to climb.</p> +<p>An hour later he had covered the “hitherside” and +“yon side” of a small mountain, and when he came to +the highway again he found himself confronted by a +half dozen armed horsemen whose appearance gave +him apprehensive pause, because at once he recognized +in them the officialdom of the law. The mounted +travelers drew rein, and he halted at the roadside, +nodding his greeting in affected unconcern.</p> +<p>The man who had been riding at the fore held in +his left hand the halter line of a led horse, and now he +looked down at the pedestrian and spoke in the familiar +phrase of wayside amenity.</p> +<p>“Howdy, stranger, what mout yore name be?”</p> +<p>“Sim Colby from acrost Hemlock Mountain ways, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +but I’ve done been west fer a year gone by, though, an’ +I’m jest broguein’ along to’rds home.”</p> +<p>The questioner, a long, gaunt man with a face that +had been scarred, but never altered out of its obstinate +set, eyed him for a moment, then shot out the question:</p> +<p>“Did ye ever hear tell of Sam Mosebury over thet-away?”</p> +<p>It was lucky that the fugitive had given as his home +a territory with which he had some familiarity. Now +his reply came promptly.</p> +<p>“Yes, I knows him when I sees him. Some folks +used ter give him a right hard name over thar, but I +reckon he’s all right ef a man don’t aim ter crowd him +too fur.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know how fur he mout of been crowded,” +brusquely replied the man with the extra horse, “but +he kilt a man in Rattletown yestiddy noon an’ tuck +ter ther woods. I’m after him.”</p> +<p>The foot traveler expressed an appropriate interest, +then added:</p> +<p>“Howsomever, hit ain’t none of my affair, an’ seein’ +thet I’ve got a right far journey ahead of me, I’ll +hike along.”</p> +<p>But the leader of the mounted group shook his +head.</p> +<p>“One of my men got horse flung back thar an’ broke +a bone inside him. I’m ther high sheriff of this hyar +county, an’ I hereby summons ye ter go along with +me an’ ack as a member of my possy.”</p> +<p>Under his tan Private Grant paled a little. This +mischance carried a triple menace to his safety. It +involved riding back to the county seat where some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +man might remember his face, and recall that two +years ago he had gone away on a three years’ enlistment. +But even if he escaped that contingency, it +meant tarrying in this neighborhood through which +he had meant to pass inconspicuously and rapidly. To +be attached to a <i>posse comitatus</i> riding the hills on a +man hunt meant to challenge every passing eye with +an interest beyond the casual.</p> +<p>Finally, though he might well have forgotten him, +the man whose trail he was now called to take in pursuit +had once known him slightly, and if they met +under such hostile auspices, might recognize and denounce +him.</p> +<p>But the sheriff sat enthroned in his saddle and robed +in the color of authority. At his back sat five other +men with rifles across their pommels, and with such +a situation there was no argument. The law’s officer +threw the bridle rein of the empty-saddled mount to +the man in the road.</p> +<p>“Get up on this critter,” he commanded tersely, +“and don’t let him git his head down too low. He +follers buck-jumpin’.”</p> +<p>When Grant, alias Colby, found that the men riding +with him were more disposed to somber silence +than to inquisitiveness or loquacity, he breathed easier. +He even made a shrewd guess that there were others +in that small group who answered the call of the law +as reluctantly as he.</p> +<p>Sam Mosebury was accounted as dangerous as a +rattlesnake, and Bud doubted whether even the high +sheriff himself would make more than a perfunctory +effort to come to grips with him in his present desperation.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span></div> +<p>When the posse had ridden several hours, and had +come to a spot in the forest where the trail forked +diversely, a halt was called. They had traveled steep +ways and floundered through many belly-deep fords. +Dust lay gray upon them and spattered mud overlaid +the dust.</p> +<p>“We’ve done come ter a pass, now,” declared the +sheriff, “where hit ain’t goin’ ter profit us no longer +ter go trailin’ in one bunch. We hev need ter split +up an’ turkey tail out along different routes.”</p> +<p>The sun had long crossed the meridian and dyed the +steep horizon with burning orange and violet when +Bud Grant and Mose Biggerstaff, with whom he had +been paired off, drew rein to let their horses blow in +a gorge between beetling walls of cliff.</p> +<p>“Me, I ain’t got no master relish for this task, no-how,” +declared Mose morosely as he spat at the black +loam of rotting leaves. “No man ain’t jedgmatically +proved ter me, yit, thet ther feller Sam kilt didn’t need +killin’.”</p> +<p>Bud nodded a solemn concurrence in the sentiment. +Then abruptly the two of them started as though at +the intrusion of a ghost and, of instinct, their hands +swept holsterward, but stopped halfway.</p> +<p>This sudden galvanizing of their apathy into life +was effected by the sight of a figure which had materialized +without warning and in uncanny silence in a +fissure where the rocks dripped from reeking moss +on either side.</p> +<p>It stood with a cocked repeating rifle held easily at +the ready, and it was a figure that required no heralding +of its identity or menace.</p> +<p>“Were ye lookin’ fer me, boys?” drawled Sam +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +Mosebury with a palpable enjoyment of the situation, +not unlike that which brightens the eyes of a cat as it +plays with a mouse already crippled.</p> +<p>With swift apprehension the eyes of the two deputies +met and effected an understanding. Mose Biggerstaff +licked his bearded lips until their stiffness relaxed +enough for speech.</p> +<p>“Me an’ Sim Colby hyar,” he protested, “got summoned +by ther high sheriff. We didn’t hev no rather +erbout hit one way ner t’other. All we’ve got ter go +on air ther <i>dee</i>scription thet war give ter us—an’ we +don’t see no resemblance atween ye an’ ther feller +we’re atter.”</p> +<p>The murderer stood eying them with an amused +contempt, and one could recognize the qualities of +dominance which, despite his infamies, had won him +both fear and admiration.</p> +<p>“Ef ye thinks ye’d ought ter take me along an’ show +me ter yore high sheriff,” he suggested, and the finger +toyed with the trigger, “I’m right hyar.”</p> +<p>“Afore God, no!” It was Bud who spoke now +contradicting his colleague. “I’ve seed Sam Mosebury +often times—an’ ye don’t no fashion faver him.”</p> +<p>Sam laughed. “I’ve seed ye afore, too, I reckon,” +he commented dryly. “But ef ye don’t know me, I +reckon I don’t need ter know <i>you</i>, nuther.”</p> +<p>The two sat atremble in their saddles until the apparition +had disappeared in the laurel.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Gray-templed and seamed of face, Dyke Cappeze +entered the courthouse at Carnettsville one day a few +months later and paused for a moment, his battered +law books under his threadbare elbow, to gaze around +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +the murky hall of which his memory needed no refreshing.</p> +<p>About the stained walls hung fly-specked notices of +sheriff’s sales, and between them stamped long-haired, +lean-visaged men drawn in by litigation or jury service +from branchwater and remote valley.</p> +<p>Out where the sun lay mellow on the town square +was the brick pavement, on which Cappeze’s law partner +had fallen dead ten years ago, because he dared +to prosecute too vigorously. Across the way stood +the general store upon which one could still see the +pock-marking of bullets reminiscent of that day when +the Heatons and the Blacks made war, and terrorized +the county seat.</p> +<p>Dyke Cappeze looked over it all with a deep melancholy +in his eyes. He knew his mountains and loved +his people whose virtues were more numerous, if less +conspicuous, than their sins. In his heart burned a +militant insurgency. These hills cried out for development, +and development demanded a conception of +law broader gauged and more serious than obtained. +It needed fearless courts, unterrified juries, intrepid +lawyers.</p> +<p>He had been such a lawyer, and when he had applied +for life insurance he had been adjudged a prohibitive +risk. To-day the career of three decades was +to end, and as the bell in the teetering cupola began to +clang its summons he shook his head—and pressed +tight the straight lips that slashed his rugged face.</p> +<p>On the bench sat the circuit-riding judge of that +district; a man to whom, save when he addressed him +as “your honor,” Dyke Cappeze had not spoken in +three years. They were implacable enemies, because +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +too often the lawyer had complained that justice +waited here on expediency.</p> +<p>Cappeze looked at the windows bleared with their +residue of dust and out through them at the hills +mantling to an autumnal glory. Then he heard that +suave—to himself he said hypocritical—voice from +the bench.</p> +<p>“Gentlemen of the bar, any motions?”</p> +<p>Wearily the thin, tall-framed lawyer came to his +feet and stood erect and silent for a moment in his +long, black coat, corroding into the green of dilapidation.</p> +<p>“May it please your honor,” he grimly declared. “I +hardly know whether my statement may be properly +called a motion or not. It’s more a valedictory.”</p> +<p>He drew from his breast pocket a bit of coarse, +lined writing paper and waved it in his talon-like hand.</p> +<p>“I was retained by the widow Sales, whose husband +was shot down by Sam Mosebury, to assist the prosecution +in bringing the assassin to punishment. The +grand jury has failed to indict this defendant. The +sheriff has failed to arrest him. The court has failed +to produce those witnesses whom I have subpœnaed. +The machinery of the law which is created for the +sole purpose of protecting the weak against the encroachments +of the malevolent has failed.”</p> +<p>He paused, and through the crowded room the +shuffling feet fell silent and heads bent excitedly forward. +Then Cappeze lifted the paper in his hand and +went on:</p> +<p>“I hold here an unsigned letter that threatens me +with death if I persist with this prosecution. It came +to me two weeks ago, and since receiving it I have redoubled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +my energy. When this grand jury was impaneled +and charged, such a note also reached each +of its members. I know not what temper of soul +actuates those men who have sworn to perform the +duties of grand jurors. I know not whether these +threats have affected their deliberations, but I know +that they have failed to return a true bill against Sam +Mosebury!”</p> +<p>The judge fingering his gavel frowned gravely. +“Does counsel mean to charge that the court has +proven lax?”</p> +<p>“I mean to say,” declared the lawyer in a voice that +suddenly mounted and rung like a trumpeted challenge, +“that in these hills of Kentucky the militant +spirit of the law seems paralyzed! I mean to say that +terrorism towers higher than the people’s safeguards! +For a lifetime I have battled here to put the law above +the feud—and I have failed. In this courthouse my +partner fought for a recognition of justice and at its +door he paid the penalty with his life. I wish to make +no charges other than to state the facts. I am growing +old, and I have lost heart in a vain fight. I wish +to withdraw from this case as associate commonwealth +counsel, because I can do nothing more than +I have done, and that is enough. I wish to state publicly +that to-day I shall take down my shingle and +withdraw from the practice of law, because law +among us seems to me a misnomer and a futile semblance.”</p> +<p>In a dead silence the elderly attorney came to his +period and gathered up again under his threadbare +elbow his two or three battered books. Turning, he +walked down the center aisle toward the door, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +as he went his head sagged dejectedly forward on his +chest.</p> +<p>He heard the instruction of his enemy on the bench, +still suave:</p> +<p>“Mr. Clerk, let the order be entered striking the +name of Mr. Cappeze from the record as associate +counsel for the commonwealth.”</p> +<p>It was early forenoon when the elderly attorney +left the dingy law office which he was closing, and the +sunset fires were dying when he swung himself down +from the saddle at his own stile in the hills and walked +between the bee-gums and bird boxes to his door. +But before he reached it the stern pain in his eyes +yielded to a brightening thought, and as if responsive +to that thought the door swung open and in it stood +a slim girl with eyes violet deep, and a beauty so alluring +and so wildly natural that her father felt as if +youth had met him again, when he had begun to think +of all life as musty and decrepit with age.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI' id='CHAPTER_VI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +</div> +<p>Except in that narrow circle of American life +which follows the doings and interests of the +army and navy, the world had forgotten, in the +several years since its happening, the court-martial +and disgrace of John Spurrier—but Spurrier himself +had not been able to forget.</p> +<p>His name had become forcefully identified with +other things and, in the employ of Snowdon’s company, +he had been into those parts of the world which +call to a man of energy and constructive ability of +major calibre. But the joy of seeing mine fields open +to the rush where there had been only desert before: +of seeing chasms bridged into roadways had not been +enough to banish the brooding which sprung from +the old stigma. In remote places he had encountered +occasional army men to remind him that he was no +longer one of them and, though he was often doing +worthier things than they, they were bound by regulations +which branded him.</p> +<p>So Spurrier had hardened, not into outward crustiness +of admitted chagrin, but with an inner congealing +of spirit which made him look on life as a somewhat +merciless fight and what he could wrest from life as +the booty of conquest.</p> +<p>One day, in Snowdon’s office after a more than usually +difficult task had reached accomplishment, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +chief candidly proclaimed justification for his first +estimate of his aide, and Spurrier smiled.</p> +<p>“It’s generous of you to speak so, sir,” he said +slowly, “and I’m glad to leave you with that impression—because +with many regrets I <i>am</i> leaving you.”</p> +<p>The older man raised his brows in surprise.</p> +<p>“I had hoped our association would be permanent,” +he responded. “I suppose, though, you have an opening +to a broader horizon. If so it comes as recognition +well earned.”</p> +<p>“It’s an offer from Martin Harrison, sir,” came the +reply in slowly weighed words. “There are objections, +of course, but the man who gains Harrison’s +confidence stands in the temple of big money.”</p> +<p>“Yes. Of course Harrison’s name needs no amplification.” +The man who had opened a door for +Spurrier in what had seemed a blank wall, sat for a +moment silent then broke out with more than his +customary emphasis of expression. “Objection from +me may seem self-interested because I am losing a +valuable assistant. But—damn it all, Harrison is a +pirate!”</p> +<p>Spurrier’s tanned cheeks flushed a shade darker but +he nodded his head. His fine eyes took on that glint +of hardness which, in former times, had never marred +their engaging candor.</p> +<p>“I’d like to have you understand me, sir. I owe +you that much and a great deal more. I know that +Harrison and his ilk of big money operators are none +too scrupulous—but they have power and opportunity +and those are things I must gain.”</p> +<p>“I had supposed,” suggested Snowdon deliberately, +“that you wanted two things above all else. First to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +establish your innocence to the world, and secondly, +even if you failed in that, to make your name so substantially +respected that you could bear—the other.”</p> +<p>“Until recently I had no other thought.” The +young man rose and stood with his fine body erect and +as full of disciplined strength as that of a Praxiteles +athlete. Then he took several restless turns across +the floor and halted tensely before his benefactor.</p> +<p>“I have let no grass grow under my feet. You +know how I have run down every conceivable clue and +how I stand as uncleared as the day the verdict was +brought at Manila. I’ve begun to despair of vindication.... +I am not by nature a beast of prey.... I +prefer fair play and the courtesies of sportsmanlike +conflict.”</p> +<p>He paused, then went forward again in a hardening +voice: “But in this land of ours there are two aristocracies +and only two—and I want to be an aristocrat +of sorts.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t realize we had even so much variety as +that,” observed Snowdon and the younger man continued.</p> +<p>“The real aristocracy is that of gentle blood and +ideals. Our little army is its true nucleus and there a +man doesn’t have to be rich. I was born to that and +reared to it as to a deep religion—but I’ve been cast +out, unfrocked, cashiered. I can’t go back. One +class is still open to me; the brazen, arrogant circles +of wealth into which a double-fisted achiever can +bruise his way. I don’t love them. I don’t revere +them, but they offer power and I mean to take my place +on their tawdry eminence. It’s all that’s left.”</p> +<p>“I’m not preaching humility,” persisted Snowdon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +quietly. “I started you along the paths of financial +combat and I see no fault in your continuing, but may +I be candid to the point of bluntness?”</p> +<p>He paused for permission and Spurrier prompted: +“Yes, please go on.”</p> +<p>“Then,” finished Snowdon, “since you’ve been with +me I’ve watched you grow—and you <i>have</i> grown. +But I’ve also seen a fine chivalric sense gradually +blunting; a generous predisposition hardening out of +flexibility into something more implacable, less gracious. +It’s a pity—and Martin Harrison won’t soften +you.”</p> +<p>For a while Spurrier stood meditatively silent, then +he smiled and once more nodded his head.</p> +<p>“There isn’t a thing you’ve said that isn’t true, Mr. +Snowdon, and you’re the one man who could say it +without any touch of offensiveness. I’ve counted the +costs. God knows if I could go back to the army to-morrow +with a shriven record, I’d rather have my +lieutenant’s pay than all the success that could ever +come from moneyed buccaneers! But I can’t do that. +I can’t think of myself as a fighting man under my +own flag whose largest pay is his contentment and his +honor. Very well, I have accepted Hobson’s choice. +I will join that group which fights with power, for +power; the group that’s strong enough to defy the +approval they can’t successfully court. I <i>have</i> hardened +but I’ve needed to. I hope I shan’t become so +flagrant, however, that you’ll have to regret sponsoring +me.”</p> +<p>Snowdon laughed.</p> +<p>“I’m not afraid of that,” he made hasty assurance. +“And my friendliest wishes go with you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></div> +<p>Since that day John Spurrier had come to a place +of confidence in the counsels over which Harrison +presided with despotic authority.</p> +<p>The man in the street, deriving his information +from news print, would have accorded Martin Harrison +a place on the steering committee of the country’s +wealth and affairs, and in such a classification he +would have been both right and wrong.</p> +<p>There were exclusive coteries of money manipulation +to which Harrison was denied an entree. These +combinations were few but mighty, and until he won +the sesame of admission to their supreme circle his +ambition must chafe, unsatisfied: his power, greater +than that of many kings, must seem to himself too +weak.</p> +<p>It must not be inferred that Harrison was embittered +by the wormwood of failure. His trophies of +success were numerous and tangible enough for every +purpose except his own contentment.</p> +<p>To-night he was smiling with baronial graciousness +while he stood welcoming a group of dinner guests in +his own house, and as his butler passed the tray of +canapes and cocktail glasses the latest arrival presented +himself.</p> +<p>The host nodded. “Spurrier,” he said, “I think you +know every one here, don’t you?”</p> +<p>The young man who had just come was perfectly +tailored and self-confident of bearing, and as vigorous +of bodily strength as a wrestler in training. The time +that had passed over him since he had left Snowdon’s +company for wider and more independent fields had +wrought changes in him, and in so far as the observer +could estimate values from the externals of life, every +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +development had been upward toward improvement. +Yet, between the man’s impressive surface and his soul +lay an acquired coat of cynicism and a shell of cultivated +selfishness.</p> +<p>John Spurrier, who had renounced the gaming +table, was more passionately and coldly than ever the +plunger, dedicated to the single religion of ambition. +He had failed to remove the blot of the court-martial +from his name, and, denied the soldier’s ethical place, +he had become a sort of moss-trooper of finance.</p> +<p>Backed only by his personal qualifications, he had +won his way into a circle of active wealth, and though +he seemed no more a stranger there than a duckling +in a pool, he himself knew that another simile would +more truly describe his status.</p> +<p>He was like an exhibition skater whose eye-filling +feats are watched with admiration and bated breath. +His evolutions and dizzy pirouettings were performed +with an adroit ease and grace, but he could feel the +swaying of the thin ice under him and could never +forget that only the swift smoothness of his flight +stood between himself and disaster.</p> +<p>He must live on a lavish scale or lose step with the +fast-moving procession. He must maintain appearances +in keeping with his associations—or drop downscale +to meaner opportunities and paltrier prizes. The +wealth which would establish him firmly seemed always +just a shade farther away than the reach of his +outstretched grasp.</p> +<p>“We were just talking about Trabue, Spurrier,” +his host enlightened him as he looked across the rim +of his lifted glass, with eyes hardening at the mention +of that name.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></div> +<p>Spurrier did not ask what had been said about Trabue, +but he guessed that it savored of anathema. For +Trabue, whose name rarely appeared in the public announcements +of American Oil and Gas, was none the +less the white-hot power and genius of that organization—its +unheralded chief of staff. Just as A. O. +and G. dominated the world of finance, so he dominated +A. O. and G.</p> +<p>Harrison laughed. “I’m not a vindictive man,” he +declared in humorous self-defense, “but I want his +scalp as Salome wanted the head of John the Baptist.”</p> +<p>The newly arrived guest smiled quietly.</p> +<p>“That’s a large order, Mr. Harrison,” he suggested, +“and yet it’s in line with a matter I want to +take up with you. My conspiracy won’t exactly separate +O. H. Trabue from his scalp lock, but it may pull +some pet feathers out of his war bonnet. I’m leaving +to-morrow on a mission of reconnaissance—and +when I come back——”</p> +<p>The eyes of the elder and younger engaged with a +quiet interchange of understanding, and Spurrier +knew that into Martin’s mind, as crowded with activities +as a busy harbor, an idea had fallen which +would grow into interest.</p> +<p>When dinner was announced, the adventurer de +luxe—for it was so that he recognized himself in the +confessional of his own mind—took in the daughter +of his host, and this mark of distinction did not escape +the notice of several men.</p> +<p>Spurrier himself was gravely listening to some low-voiced +aside from the girl who nibbled at an olive, and +who merited his attention.</p> +<p>She was tall and undeniably handsome, and if her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +mentality sparkled with a cool and brilliant light rather +than a warm and appealing glow, that was because she +had inherited the pattern of her father’s mind.</p> +<p>If, notwithstanding her wealth and position, she +was still unmarried three seasons after her coming-out, +it was her own affair and possibly his good fortune. +For when the Jack Spurrier of these days contemplated +marriage at all, he thought of it as an aid to +his career rather than a sentimental adventure.</p> +<p>“I’m leaving in the morning,” he was saying in a +low voice, “for the Kentucky Cumberlands, where I’m +told life hasn’t changed much since the pioneers +crossed over their divide. It’s the Land of Do-Without.”</p> +<p>“The Land of Do-Without?” she repeated after him. +“It’s an expressive phrase, Jack. Is it your own or +should there be quotation marks?”</p> +<p>Spurrier laughed as he admitted: “I claim no credit; +I merely quote, but the land down there in the steeps +is one, from all I hear, to stir the imagination into +terms more or less poetic.”</p> +<p>He leaned forward a little and his engaging face +mirrored his own interest so that the girl found herself +murmuring: “Tell me something about it, then.”</p> +<p>“It is,” he assured her, “a stretch of unaltered +mediævalism entirely surrounded by modernity—yet +holding aloof. Though the country has spread to the +Pacific and it lies within three hundred miles of Atlantic +tidewater, it is still our one frontier where +pioneers live under the conditions that obtained in the +days of the Indian.”</p> +<p>“That seems difficult to grasp,” she demurred, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +he nodded his head, abstractedly sketching lines on the +damask cloth with his oyster fork.</p> +<p>“When the nation was born,” he enlightened, “and +the questing spirit of the overland voyagers asserted +itself, the bulk of its human tide flowed west along +the Wilderness Road. Through Cumberland Gap lay +their one discovered gate in the wall that nature had +built to the sky across their path. It was a wall more +ancient than that of the Alps and between the ridges +many of them were stranded.”</p> +<p>“How?” she demanded, arrested by the vibrant interest +of his own voice, and he continued with a +shrug of the shoulder.</p> +<p>“Many reasons. A pack mule fallen lame—a +broken wagon-wheel; small things were enough in such +times of hardship to make a family settle where it +found itself balked. The more fortunate won through +to ‘take the west with the axe and hold it with the +rifle.’ Then came railroads and steamboats, going +other ways, and the ridges were swallowed again by +the wilderness. The stranded brethren remained +stranded and they did not alter or progress. They +remained self-willed, fiercely independent and dedicated +to the creed ‘Leave us alone.’ Their life to-day +is the life of two centuries ago.”</p> +<p>The girl lifted the brows that were dark enough +to require no penciling.</p> +<p>“That was the speech of a dreamer and a poet, Jack, +and I thought you the most practical of men. What +calls you into a land of poverty? I didn’t know you +ever ran on cold trails.” She spoke with a delicately +shaded irony, as though for the materialism of his own +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +viewpoint, yet he knew that her interest in him would +survive no failure of worldly attainment.</p> +<p>He did not repeat to her the story told him so long +ago by Snowdon, the engineer, nor confide to her that +ever since then his mind had harked back insistently +to that topic and its possibilities. Now he only smiled +with diplomatic suavity.</p> +<p>“Pearls,” he said, “don’t feed oysters into robustness. +They make ’em most uncomfortable. The +poverty-stricken illiterates in these hills, where I’m +going, might starve for centuries over buried treasure—which +some one else might find.”</p> +<p>The girl nodded.</p> +<p>“In the stories,” she answered, though she did not +seem disturbed at the thought, “the stranger in the +Cumberlands always arouses the ire of some whiskered +moonshiner and falls in a creek bed pierced by a +shot from the laurel.”</p> +<p>Spurrier grinned.</p> +<p>“Or he falls in love with a barefoot Diana and +teaches her to adore him in return.”</p> +<p>Miss Harrison made a satirical little grimace. “At +least teach her to eat with a fork, too, Jack,” she +begged him. “It will contribute to your fastidious +comfort when you come back here to sell your pearls +at Tiffany’s or in Maiden Lane, or wherever it is that +one wholesales his treasure-trove.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>If John Spurrier had presented the picture of a +man to the manner born as he sat with Martin Harrison’s +daughter at Martin Harrison’s table, he fitted +into the ensemble, too, a week later, as he crossed the +hard-tramped dirt of the street from the railway station +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +at Waterfall and entered the shabby tavern +over the way—for the opportunity hound must be +adaptable.</p> +<p>Here he would leave the end of the rails and travel +by mule into a wilder country, for on the geological +survey maps that he carried with him he had made +tracings of underground currents which it had not +been easy to procure.</p> +<p>These red-inkings were exact miniatures of a huge +wall chart in the headquarters of American Oil and +Gas, and to others than a trusted few they were not +readily accessible. How Spurrier had achieved his +purpose is a separate story and one over which he +smiled inwardly, though it may have involved features +that were not nicely ethical.</p> +<p>The tavern had been built in the days when Waterfall +had attracted men answering the challenge of oil +discovery. Now it had fallen wretchedly into decay, +and over it brooded the depression of hopes and +dreams long dead. Gladly Spurrier had left that town +behind him.</p> +<p>Now, on a crisp afternoon, when the hill slopes were +all garbed in the rugged splendor of the autumn’s +high color, he was tramping with a shotgun on his +elbow and a borrowed dog at his heels. He had +crossed Hemlock Mountain and struck into the hinterland +at its back.</p> +<p>Until now he had thought of Hemlock Mountain +as a single peak, but he had discovered it to be, instead, +an unbroken range beginning at Hell’s Door and +ending at Praise the Lord, which zigzagged for +a hundred miles and arched its bristling backbone +two thousand feet into the sky. Along this entire +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +length it offered only a few passes over which a +traveler could cross except on foot or horseback.</p> +<p>He had found entertainment overnight at a clay-chinked +log-cabin, where he had shared the single +room with six human beings and two dogs. This +census takes no account of a razor-back pig which +was segregated in a box under the dining table, where +its feeding with scraps simplified the problem of +stock raising.</p> +<p>His present objective was the house of Dyke Cappeze, +the retired lawyer, whose name had drifted into +talk at every town in which he had stopped along the +railroad.</p> +<p>Cappeze was a “queer fellow,” a recluse who had +quit the villages and drawn far back into the hills +themselves. He was one who could neither win nor +stop fighting; who wanted to change the unalterable, +and, having failed, sulked like Achilles in his tent. +But whoever spoke of Cappeze credited him with being +a positive and unique personality, and Spurrier meant +to know him.</p> +<p>So he pretended to hunt quail—in a country where +a covey rose and scattered beyond gorges over which +neither dog nor man could follow. One excuse served +as well as another so long as he seemed sufficiently +careless of the things which were really the core and +center of his interest. And now Cappeze’s place ought +to be near by.</p> +<p>Off to one side of the ragged way stretched a brown +patch of stubble, and suddenly the dog stopped at its +edge, lifted his muzzle with distended nostrils delicately +aquiver, and then went streaking away into the rattling +weed stalks, eagerly quartering the bare field.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></div> +<p>Spurrier followed, growling skeptically to himself: +“He’s made a stand on a rabbit. That dog’s a liar and +the truth is not in him!”</p> +<p>But the setter had come to a halt and held motionless, +his statuesque pose with one foreleg uplifted as +rigid as a piece of bronze save for the black muzzle +sensitively alert and tremulous.</p> +<p>Then as the man walked in there came that startling +little thunder of whirring wings with which quail +break cover.</p> +<p>The ground seemed to burst with a tiny drumming +eruption of up-surging feathery shapes, and Spurrier’s +gun spoke rapidly from both barrels. Save for the +two he had downed, the covey crossed a little rise +beyond a thicket of blackberry brier where he marked +them by the tips of a few gnarled trees, and the man +nodded his head in satisfaction as the dog he had +libeled neatly retrieved his dead birds and cast off +again toward the hummock’s ridge.</p> +<p>Spurrier, following more slowly, lost sight of his +setter and, before he had caught up, he heard a +whimpering of fright and pain. Puzzled, he hastened +forward until from a slight elevation, which commanded +a burial ground, choked with a tangle of +brambles and twisted fox grapes, he found himself +looking on a picture for which he was entirely unprepared.</p> +<p>His dog was crouching and crawling in supplication, +while above him, with eyes that snapped lightning +jets of fury, stood a slender girl with a hickory +switch tightly clenched in a small but merciless hand.</p> +<p>As the gunner came into sight she stood her ground, +a little startled but obdurately determined, and her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +expression appeared to transfer her anger from the +animal she had whipped to the master, until he almost +wondered whether she might not likewise use the +hickory upon him.</p> +<p>He tried not to let the vivid and unexpected beauty +of the apparition cloud his just indignation, and his +voice was stern with offended dignity as he demanded:</p> +<p>“Would you mind telling me why you’re mistreating +my dog? He’s the gentlest beast I ever knew.”</p> +<p>The girl was straight and slim and as colorful as +the landscape which the autumn had painted with +crimson and violet, but in her eyes flamed a war fire.</p> +<p>“What’s that a-bulgin’ out yore coat pocket, thar?” +she demanded breathlessly. “You an’ yore dog air +both murderers! Ye’ve been shootin’ into my gang of +pet pa’tridges.”</p> +<p>“Pet—partridges?” He repeated the words in a +mystified manner, as under the compulsion of her +gaze he drew out the incriminating bodies of the +lifeless victims.</p> +<p>The girl snatched the dead birds from him and laid +their soft breasts against her cheek, crooning sorrowfully +over them.</p> +<p>“They trusted me ter hold ’em safe,” she declared in +a grief-stricken tone. “I’d kept all the gunners from +harmin’ ’em—an’ now they’ve done been betrayed—an’ +murdered.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry,” declared Spurrier humbly. “I didn’t +know they were pets. They behaved very much like +wild birds.”</p> +<p>The dog rose from his cowering position and came +over to shelter himself behind Spurrier, who just then +heard the underbrush stir at his back and wheeled to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +find himself facing an elderly man with a ruggedly +chiseled face and a mane of gray hair. It was a face +that one could not see without feeling a spirit force +behind it, and when the man spoke his sonorous voice, +too, carried a quality of impressiveness.</p> +<p>“He didn’t have no way of knowin’, Glory,” he said +placatingly to the girl. “Bob Whites are mostly wild, +you know.” Then turning back to the man again he +courteously explained: “She fed this gang through +last winter when the snows were heavy. They’d come +up to the door yard an’ peck ’round with the chickens. +She’s gifted with the knack of gentlin’ wild things.” +He paused, then added with a grim touch of irony. +“It’s a lesson that it would have profited me to learn—but +I never could master it. You’re a furriner hereabouts, +ain’t you?”</p> +<p>“My name is John Spurrier,” said the stranger. “I +was looking for Dyke Cappeze.”</p> +<p>“I’m Dyke Cappeze,” said the elderly man, “an’ this +is my daughter, Glory. Come inside. Yore welcome +needs some mendin’, I reckon.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII' id='CHAPTER_VII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +</div> +<p>As John Spurrier followed his host between rhododendron +thickets that rose above their heads, +he found himself wondering what had become +of the girl, but when they drew near to an old house +whose stamp of orderly neatness proclaimed its contrast +to the scattering hovels of widely separated +neighbors, he caught a flash of blue gingham by the +open door and realized that the Valkyrie had taken a +short cut.</p> +<p>The dog, too, had arrived there ahead of its master +and was fawning now on the girl, who leaned impulsively +over to take the gentle-pointed muzzle between +her palms.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry I whopped ye,” she declared in a silver-voiced +contrition that made the man think of thrush +notes. “Hit wasn’t <i>yore</i> fault no-how. Hit was thet—thet +stuck-up furriner. I <i>hates</i> him!”</p> +<p>The setter waved its plumed tail in forgiveness and +contentment, and the girl, discovering with an upward +glance that she had been overheard, rose and stood for +a moment defiantly facing the object of her denunciation, +then, as embarrassment flooded her cheeks with +color, fled into the house.</p> +<p>The sense of having stepped back into an older century +had been growing on John Spurrier ever since +he had turned away from the town of Waterfall, and +now it possessed him with a singular fascination.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span></div> +<p>Here was a different world, somber under its +shadow of frugality, and breathing out the heavy atmosphere +of isolation. The spirit of this strange life +looked out from the wearied eyes of Dyke Cappeze as +he sat filling his pipe across the hearth, a little later, +and it sounded in his voice when he announced slowly:</p> +<p>“It’s not for me to withhold hospitality in a land +where a ready welcome is about all we have to offer, +and yet you could hardly have picked a worse house +to come to between the Virginia border and the Kaintuck +ridges.”</p> +<p>Spurrier raised his brows interrogatively, and at the +same moment he noticed matters hitherto overlooked. +The windows were heavily shuttered and his host sat +beyond the line of vision from the open door—with +a rifle leaning an arm’s length away.</p> +<p>“Coming as a stranger,” continued Cappeze, “you +start without enmities—with a clean page. You might +spend your life here and find a sincere welcome everywhere—so +long as you avoided other men’s controversies. +But you come to me and that, sir, is a bad +beginning—a very bad beginning.”</p> +<p>A contemplative cloud of smoke went up from the +pipe, and the voice finished in a tone of bitterness.</p> +<p>“I’m the most hated man in this region where +hatreds grow like weeds.”</p> +<p>“You mean because you have stood out for the enforcement +of law?”</p> +<p>The other nodded, “It has taken me a lifetime,” he +observed, “to learn that the mountains are stronger, +if not more obstinate, than I.”</p> +<p>“Is that the only reason they hate you?” inquired +the visitor, and the lawyer, removing the pipe stem +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +from his teeth, regarded him for a space in silence. +Then he commented quietly:</p> +<p>“If you knew this country better, you wouldn’t +have to ask that question. In Athens, I believe, they +ostracized Aristides because he was ‘too just a man.’”</p> +<p>“Nonetheless, I’m glad I came to you.”</p> +<p>Cappeze smiled gravely. He had a rude sort of +dignity which Spurrier found beguiling; a politeness +that sprang from a deeper rooting than mere formula.</p> +<p>“Merely coming to see me—once in a while—won’t +damn you, I reckon. A man has a license to be interested +in freaks. But take my advice, and I sha’n’t be +offended. Tell every one that you hold no brief for +me and listen with an open mind when they blackguard +me.”</p> +<p>Spurrier laughed. “In a place where assassination +is said to come cheap, you have at least been able to +take care of yourself, sir.”</p> +<p>“That,” said the other slowly, “is as it happens. My +partner was less lucky. My own luck may break some +day.”</p> +<p>“And yet you go on living here when you’d be safe +enough anywhere else.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I go on living here. It’s a land where a man’s +mind starves and where the great marching song of +the world’s progress is silent—and yet——” Again +he paused to draw in and exhale a cloud of pipe +smoke. “Yet there’s something in the winds that blow +here, in the air one breathes, that ‘is native to my +blood.’ Elsewhere I should be miserable, sir, and my +daughter——”</p> +<p>He came to an abrupt stop and Spurrier took him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +up quickly. “She seems young and vital enough to +crave all of life’s variety.”</p> +<p>“But she is contented, sir.” The elderly man spoke +eagerly as though to convince himself and quiet troubling +doubts. “She, too, would rather be here. We +know this life and take it as we find it.”</p> +<p>Spurrier felt that the conversation was tending into +channels too personal for the participation of a chance +acquaintance, and he guided it to a less intimate subject.</p> +<p>“I understand, Mr. Cappeze, that in the campaign +just ended, you stumped this district whole-heartedly +in behalf of one of the candidates for the circuit +judgeship.”</p> +<p>Again the hawk-keen blaze flared in the eyes of his +host.</p> +<p>“You are mistaken, sir,” he declared with heated +emphasis. “It was less <i>for</i> a candidate than <i>against</i> +one that I worked. The man whom circumstances +compelled me to support was a poor thing, but he was +better than his adversary.”</p> +<p>“Was it party spirit that prompted you, then?” inquired +the guest, feeling that politeness called for +some show of interest.</p> +<p>“Sometimes I think,” said the lawyer with a grim +smile, “that from some men God withholds the blessed +power of riding life’s waves. All they can do is to +buffet and fight and wear themselves out. Perhaps +I’m that sort. The man who won—who succeeded +himself on the bench—is an expedientist. So long as +he presides, timid juries will return timid verdicts +and the law will falter. I took the stump to brand +him before the people as an apostate to his oath. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +knew he would win, but I meant to make him wear his +trade-mark of cowardice along with his smirk of self-righteousness!”</p> +<p>As Spurrier listened, not to a feudist but to a man +who had worn himself out fighting feudism, there +came to him like a revelation an appreciation of the +bitterness which runs in the grim undertow of this +blood.</p> +<p>“I believe,” he suggested, glancing sidewise at the +door beyond which he heard the thrushlike voice of +the girl, “that you made an issue of a murder case +which collapsed—a case in which you had been employed +to prosecute.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” Cappeze told him. “Because I believe it to +be one in which the officers of the court lay down and +quit like dogs. The defendant was a red-handed +bully, generally feared—and the law was in timid +keeping. I am still trying to have the grand jury call +before it the prosecutor, the sheriff, and every deputy +who served on that posse. I want to make them tell, +on oath, just how hard they sought to apprehend the +assassin—who still walks boldly and freely among us—unwhipped +of justice.”</p> +<p>Spurrier rose, deeply impressed by the headstrong, +willful courage of this old insurgent, whose daughter’s +eyes were so full of spring gentleness.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Far up the dwindling thread of a small water +course, where the forest was jungle-thick, a log cabin +hung perched to a rocky cornfield that tilted like a +steep roof, and under its shingles Sim Colby dwelt +alone. Since his coming here he had been assimilated +into the commonplace life of the neighborhood and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +the question of his origin was no longer discussed. +The time had gone by when even an acquaintance of +other days would be apt to calculate that his term of +enlistment in the army had not run its full course. +Moreover, there were no such acquaintances here; +none who had known him before he changed his name +from Grant to Colby. The shadow of dread which +had once obsessed him had gradually and imperceptibly +lightened until for weeks together he forgot how +poignantly it had once haunted him. He had painstakingly +established a reputation exemplary beyond +the tendencies of his nature in this new habitat—since +trouble might cause closed pages to reopen.</p> +<p>Now on a November afternoon a deputy sheriff, +serving summonses in that neighborhood dismounted +at the door where Sim stood with his hand resting +on the jamb, and the two mulled over what sparse +gossip the uneventful neighborhood afforded.</p> +<p>“Old Cappeze, he’s a-seekin’ ter rake up hell afresh +an’ brew more pestilence fer everybody,” announced +the deputy glumly.</p> +<p>“What’s he projeckin’ at now?” asked Sim.</p> +<p>“He’s seekin’ ter warm over thet ancient Sam Mosebury +case afore ther grand jury. Come ter think of +hit, Sim, ye rid with ther high sheriff yoreself thet +time, didn’t ye?”</p> +<p>Moodily the other nodded. That was a matter he +preferred to leave buried.</p> +<p>“Waal, Cappeze is claimin’ now thet ther possy +didn’t make no master effort ter lay hands on Sam. +He aims ter hev all ye boys tell ther grand jury what +ye knows erbout ther matter.”</p> +<p>The deputy turned away, but in afterthought he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +paused, thrashing idly with his switch at the weed +stalks, as he retailed an almost forgotten item of +news.</p> +<p>“A furriner come ter town yistidday, an’ sot out +straightway acrost Hemlock Mountain fer old Cappeze’s +dwellin’ house.”</p> +<p>“What manner of man war he, Joe?” Sim’s interest +was perfunctory. Had he been haled into the +grand-jury room in those earlier days, the prospect +would have bristled with apprehensions, but now he +had behind him the background of respectability and +Mose Biggerstaff, who alone knew of his craven behavior +as a member of the posse, was dead. Sim felt +secure in his mantle of virtue.</p> +<p>“He war a right upstandin’ sort of feller—ther furriner,” +enlightened the deputy. “He goes under ther +name of Spurrier—John Spurrier.”</p> +<p>As though an electric wire of high tension had +broken and brushed him in falling, Sim Colby’s attitude +stiffened and every muscle grew taut from neck +to ankles as his jaw sagged.</p> +<p>The deputy, with his foot already in the stirrup, +missed the terror spasms of the face gone suddenly +putty gray. He missed the gasp that contracted the +throat and caused its breath to wheeze, and when he +glanced back again from his saddle, the other had, +with an effort of sheer desperation, regained his outward +semblance of composure. He still leaned indolently +against the door frame, but now he needed +its support, because all his nerves jumped and a confusion +like the swarming of angry bees filled his brain.</p> +<p>Afterward he groped his way inside and dropped +down into a low chair by the hearth. For a long time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +he sat there breathing <a name='TC_1'></a><ins title='Was sterterously'>stertorously</ins> while the untended +fire died away to ashen dreariness. The sun went +down beyond the pine tops and still he sat dully with +his hands hanging over his knees, their fingers twitching +in panic aimlessness.</p> +<p>Out of a past that he had cut away from the present +had arisen a ghost of hideous menace. Here into the +laurel which had promised sanctuary his Nemesis had +pursued him.</p> +<p>Two men with the guilt of a murder standing between +them had come into a radius too small to contain +them both. It was as if they had met on a narrow +log spanning a chasm where only one could pass and +the other must fall.</p> +<p>If old Cappeze dragged him to the courthouse now, +he would be delivered over to Spurrier, waiting there +to identify him, as a fox in a trap is delivered to the +skinning knife. That must be the meaning of the +stranger’s visit to the lawyer.</p> +<p>Sim Colby went to an ancient and dilapidated +bureau and from a creaking drawer took out a memento +which, for some reason, he had preserved from +times not treasured in memory. He carried it to the +open door and stood looking at it as it lay on the palm +of his hand with the light glinting upon it.</p> +<p>It was a sharpshooter’s medal, for, whatever his +military shortcomings, Private Grant had been an efficient +rifleman, and as he looked at it now his lips +twisted into a grim smile. Then he took his rifle from +its corner and, sitting on the doorstep, polished it with +a fond particularity, oiling its mechanism and burnishing +its bore.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></div> +<p>Already Spurrier had made arrangements to ensconce +himself under the roof of a house he had +rented. Already the faces that he met in the road +were, for the most part, familiar, and without exception +they were friendly. Quick on the heels of his +first disgust for the squalor of this lapsed and retarded +life, had succeeded an exhilaration born of the wine-like +sparkle of the air and the majestic breadth of +vistas across ridge and valley. As he watched mile-wide +shadows creep between sky-high lines of peaks, +his dreams borrowed something of their vastness.</p> +<p>Through half-closed lids imagination looked out +until the range-broken spaces altered to its vision. +Spurrier saw white roads and the glitter of rails running +off into gossamer webs of distance. Where now +stood virgin forests of hard wood he visualized the +shaftings of oil derricks, the red iron sheeting of +tanks, the belching stacks of refineries, and in that defaced +landscape he read the triumph of conquest; the +guerdon of wealth; the satisfaction of power.</p> +<p>One afternoon Spurrier started over to the house +he had rented, but into which he had not yet moved. +The way lay for a furlong or more through a gorge +deeply and somberly shaded. Even now, at midday, +the sunlight of the upper places left it cloistered and +the bowlders trooped along in ferny dampness, where +the little waters whispered.</p> +<p>Beside a bulky hummock of green-corroded sandstone +the man halted and stood musingly, with eyes +downcast and thoughts uplifted—uplifted to the worship +of his one god: Ambition. At his feet was an +oily sediment along the water’s edge and the gravel +was thick with “sand blossom”—tiny fossil formations +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +that are prima facie evidence of oil. Then, +without warning, he felt a light sting along his cheek +and the rock-walled fissure reverberated under what +seemed a volley of musketry.</p> +<p>But the magnified and crumbling effect of the echo +struck him with a less poignant realization than a +slighter sound and a sharper one. As if a taut piano +wire had been sharply struck, came the clear whang +that he recognized as the flight song of a rifle bullet, +and, whatever its origin it called for a prompt taking +of cover.</p> +<p>Spurrier side-stepped as quickly as a boxer, and +stood, for the moment at least, bulwarked behind the +rock that was so providentially close.</p> +<p>“I’m John Spurrier—a stranger in these parts,” +he sung out in a confident voice of forced boldness +and cheerfulness. “I reckon you’ve made a mistake +in your man.”</p> +<p>There was no answer and Spurrier cautiously raised +his hat on the end of a stick with the same deliberation +that might have marked his action had it been his own +head emerging from cover.</p> +<p>Instantly the hidden rifle spoke again and the hat +came down pierced through its band, while the rocks +once more reverberated to multiplied detonations.</p> +<p>“It would seem,” the man told himself grimly, “that +after all there was no mistake.”</p> +<p>He was unarmed and in no position to pursue investigations +of the mystery, but by crawling along on +his belly he could keep his body shielded behind the +litter of broken stone that edged the brook until he +reached the end of the gorge itself and came to safer +territory.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></div> +<p>Slowly, Spurrier traveled out of his precarious position, +flattening himself when he paused to rest and +listen, as he had made his men flatten themselves over +there in the islands when they were going forward +without cover under the fire of snipers.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII' id='CHAPTER_VIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +</div> +<p>Spurrier was not frightened, but he was +deeply mystified, and when he reached the cabin +which he was preparing for occupancy he sat +down on the old millstone that served as a doorstep +and sought enlightenment from reflection and the +companionship of an ancient pipe.</p> +<p>In an hour or two “Uncle Jimmy” Litchfield, under +whose smoky roof he was being temporarily sheltered, +would arrive with a jolt wagon and yoke of oxen, +teaming over the household goods that Spurrier meant +to install. Already the new tenant had swept and +whitewashed his cabin interior and had let the clear +winds rake away the mildew of its long vacancy. Now +he sat smoking with a perplexity-drawn brow, while +a tuneful sky seemed to laugh mockingly at the absurd +idea of riflemen in ambush.</p> +<p>Every neighbor had manifested a spirit of cordiality +toward him. To many of them he was indebted for +small and voluntary kindnesses, and he had maintained +a diplomatic neutrality in all local affairs that +bore a controversial aspect.</p> +<p>Certainly, he could not flatter himself that as yet +any premonition of danger had percolated to those distant +centers of industry against which he was devising +a campaign of surprise. One explanation only +presented itself with any color of <a name='TC_2'></a><ins title='Was plausiblity'>plausibility</ins>.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span></div> +<p>That trickle of water might come to the gorge from +a spot back in the laurel where, under the shelter of +a felled hemlock top, some one tended a small “blockade” +distillery; some one who resented an invasion of +his privacy.</p> +<p>Yet even that inference was not satisfactory. Only +yesterday a man had offered him moonshine whisky, +declaring quite unsuspiciously: “Ef ye’re vouched fer +by Uncle Jimmy, I ain’t a’skeered of ye none. I +made thet licker myself—drink hearty.”</p> +<p>Of the real truth no ghostly glimmer of suspicion +came in even the most shadowy fashion to his mind.</p> +<p>His efforts to trace to definite result some filament +of fact that might prove the court-martial to have +reached a conclusion at variance with the truth, had +all ended in failure. That the matter was hopeless +was an admission which he could not afford to make +and which he doggedly denied, but with waning confidence.</p> +<p>This state of mind prevented him from suspecting +any connection between this present and mysterious +enmity and those things which had happened across +the Pacific.</p> +<p>He had kept himself informed as to the movements +of Private Severance and when that time-expired man +had stepped ashore at San Francisco, John Spurrier +had been waiting to confront him, even though it involved +facing men who had once been brother officers +and who could no longer speak to him as an equal.</p> +<p>From the former soldier, who brought a flush to +his cheeks by saluting him and calling him “Lieutenant,” +he had learned nothing. There had been no +reason to hope for much. It was unlikely that he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +would be able to shake into a damaging admission of +complicity—and any statement of value must have +amounted to that—the witness who had come unscathed +out of the cross-examination of two courts-martial.</p> +<p>Indeed Spurrier had expected to encounter unveiled +hostility in the attitude of the mountaineer, who had +been doing sentry duty at the door through which +the prisoner, Grant, had escaped. It might have followed +logically upon the officer’s defense, which had +sought to involve that sentinel as an accomplice in +the fugitive’s flight, and even in the murder itself.</p> +<p>But Severance had greeted him without rancor and +with the disarming guise of candid friendliness.</p> +<p>“I’d be full willin’ ter help ye, Lieutenant—ef so be +I could,” he had protested. “I knows full well yore +lawyers was plum obliged ter seek ter hang ther blame +wharsoever they was able, an’ I ain’t harborin’ no +grudge because I happened ter be one they sought ter +hurt. But I don’t know nothin’ that kin aid ye.”</p> +<p>“Do you think Grant escaped alive?” demanded +Spurrier, and the other shook his head.</p> +<p>“I feels so plum, dead sartain he died,” came the +prompt response, “thet when I gits back home I’m +goin’ ter tell his folks he did. Bud Grant was a friend +of mine, but when he went out inter thet jungle he +was too weakly ter keer fer hisself an’ ef he’d lived +they would hev done found him an’ brought him +back.”</p> +<p>Spurrier had come to embrace that belief himself. +The one man whose admission, wrung from him by +persuasion or compulsion, could give him back his +clean name, must have perished there in the <i>bijuca</i> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +tangles. The hope of meeting the runaway in life +had died in the ex-officer’s heart and consequently it +did not now occur to him to think of the deserter as a +living menace.</p> +<p>At length he rose and stood against the shadowy +background of his door, which was an oblong of darkness +behind the golden outer clarity.</p> +<p>Off in the tangle of oak and poplar and pine a ruffed +grouse drummed and a “cock of the woods” rapped its +tattoo on a sycamore top.</p> +<p>Once he fancied he heard a stirring in the rhododendron +where its large waxen leaves banked themselves +thickly a hundred yards distant, and his eyes +turned that way seeking to pierce the impenetrable +screen—but unavailingly. Perhaps some small, wild +thing had moved there.</p> +<p>Then, as had happened before that afternoon, +the stillness broke to a rifle shot—this time clean and +sharp, unclogged by echoes.</p> +<p>Spurrier stood for an instant while a surprised expression +showed in his out-staring eyes, then he +swayed on his feet. His hands came up and clutched +spasmodically at his left breast, and with a sudden +collapse he dropped heavily backward, and lay full +length, swallowed in the darkness that hung beyond +the door.</p> +<p>Over the rhododendron thicket quiet settled +drowsily again, but through the toughness of interlaced +branches stole upward and outward an acrid +powder smell and a barely perceptible trickle of smoke.</p> +<p>Crouched there, his neutral-hued clothing merging +into the earth tones about him, a man peered out, but +he did not rise to go forward and inspect his work. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +Instead, he opened the breech block of his piece and +with unhurried care blew through the barrel—cleansing +it of its vapors.</p> +<p>“I reckon thar ain’t no needcessity to go over thar +an’ look at him,” he reflected. “When they draps +down <i>thet</i>-away, they don’t git up no more—an’ some +person from afar mout spy me crossin’ ther dooryard.”</p> +<p>So he edged backward into the tangle, moving like +a crawfish and noiselessly took up his homeward +journey.</p> +<p>When the slow plodding ox team came at last to +the dooryard and Uncle Billy stood shouting outside +the house, Sim Colby, holding to tangles where he +would meet no chance wayfarer, was already miles +away and hurrying to establish his alibi against suspicion, +in his own neighborhood—where no one knew +he had been absent.</p> +<p>Though it be an evil thing and shameful to confess, +ex-private Bud Grant, alias Sim Colby, traveled +light-heartedly, roweled by no tortures of conscience, +but blithe in the assurance of a ghost laid, and a +peril averted.</p> +<p>He would have been both amazed and chagrined +had he remained peering from his ambuscade, for +when Uncle Billy’s shadow fell through the open door +the man to whom he had come rose from a chair to +meet him, and he presented no mangled or blood-stained +breast to the eyes of his visitors.</p> +<p>“Ye ain’t jest a-quippin’ with me, be ye?” demanded +the old mountaineer incredulously when he had heard +the story in all its detail. “This hyar’s a right serious-soundin’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +matter—an’ ye ain’t got no enemies +amongst us thet I’ve heered tell of.”</p> +<p>Spurrier pointed out the spot in the newly whitewashed +wall where the bullet lay imbedded with its +glint of freshly flattened lead.</p> +<p>“After the first experience,” he explained, “I’d had +some time to think. I was standing in the door so I +fell down—and played dead.” He added after a pause +quietly: “I’ve seen men shot to death, and I happened +to know how a man drops when it’s a heart hit. +I fell inside where I’d be out of sight, because I was +unarmed, and all I could do was to wait for you. I +watched through the door, but the fellow never +showed himself.”</p> +<p>“Come on, boys,” commanded the old mountaineer +in a determined voice. “Let’s beat thet la’rel while +ther tracks is still fresh. Mebby we mout l’arn somethin’ +of this hyar monstrous matter.”</p> +<p>But they learned nothing. Sim Colby had spent +painstaking thought upon his effort and he had left +no evidence written in the mold of the forest.</p> +<p>“Hit beats all hell,” declared the nonplussed Uncle +Billy at last. “I ain’t got ther power ter fathom hit. +Ef I war you I wouldn’t talk erbout this ter no man +save only me an’ old Dyke Cappeze. Still-huntin’ +lands more game then blowin’ a fox horn.” And +Spurrier nodded his head.</p> +<p>Though Spurrier for a few days after that slipped +through the gorge with the stealth of a sharpshooter, +covering himself behind rocks as he went, he heard +no sound there more alarming than the chatter of +squirrels or the grunt of a strayed razor-back rooting +among the acorns. Gradually he relaxed his vigilance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +as a man will if his nature is bold and his dreams +too sweeping to be forever hobbled by petty precautions.</p> +<p>The purpose which he privately served called for +ranging the country with a trained eye, and with him +went the contour maps upon which were traced red +lines.</p> +<p>One day he came, somewhat winded from a stiff +climb, to an eminence that spread the earth below him +and made of it a panorama. The bright carnival of +the autumn was spending itself to its end, but among +trees already naked stood others that clung to a gorgeousness +of color the more brilliant in the face of +death. Overhead was flawless blue, and there was a +dreamy violet where it merged <a name='TC_3'></a><ins title='Was mistly'>mistily</ins> with the skyline +ridges.</p> +<p>“All that it needs,” mused the man whimsically and +aloud, “is the music of Pan’s pipes—and perhaps a +small chorus of dryads.”</p> +<p>Then he heard a laugh and, wheeling suddenly, discovered +Glory Cappeze regarding him from the cap +of a towering rock where, until he had reached this +level, she had been hidden from view. Now she +flushed shyly as the man strode over and confronted +her.</p> +<p>“Do you still hate me?” he inquired.</p> +<p>“I reckon thet don’t make no master differ ter ye, +does hit?” The musical voice was painfully diffident, +and he remembered that she had always been shy with +him except on that first meeting when the leaping +anger in her eyes had burned away self-consciousness.</p> +<p>“You know,” he gravely reminded her, “when I +first saw you, you were on the point of thrashing me. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +You had me cowed and timid. Since then I’ve come +to think of you as the shooting star.”</p> +<p>He paused, waiting for her to demand an elucidation +of that somewhat obscure statement, but she said +nothing. She only sat gazing over his head toward +the horizon, and her cheeks were excitedly flushed +from the delicate pink of apple bloom to the warmer +color of peach blossom.</p> +<p>“Since you don’t ask what I mean,” he continued +easily, “I shall tell you. I’ve been to your house perhaps +four or five times. From afar, each time, I’ve +seen a scrap of color. Sometimes it has been blue, +sometimes red, but always it has vanished with the +swiftness of a shooting star. It is a flash and it is +gone. Sometimes from beyond a door I also hear a +voice singing.”</p> +<p>He leaned his elbows on the rock at her feet and +stood gazing into the eyes that would not meet his +own, and still she favored him with no response. +After a little silence the man altered his tone and +spoke argumentatively:</p> +<p>“You forgave the dog, you know—why not the +man?”</p> +<p>That question carried her thoughts back to the murdered +quail and a gusty back-flash of resentment conquered +her diffidence. Her sternness of tone and the +thrushlike softness of her voice, mingled with the +piquancy of paradox.</p> +<p>“A dawg don’t know no better.”</p> +<p>“Some dogs are very wise,” he assured her. “And +some men very foolish.”</p> +<p>“The dawg,” she went on still unplacated, “got +right down on his stomach and asked my pardon. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +<i>hed</i> ter fergive him, when he humbled hisself like +that.”</p> +<p>“I’m willing,” John Spurrier amiably assured her, +“to get right down on my stomach, too.”</p> +<p>Then she laughed, and though she sought to retreat +again into her aloofness, the spell was broken.</p> +<p>“Am I forgiven?” he demanded, and she shook +her head doubtfully though no longer with conviction.</p> +<p>“No,” she told him; then she added with a startlingly +exact mimicry of her father’s most legalistic +manner: “No. The co’te will take the case under +advisement an’ defer jedgment.”</p> +<p>“I forgot,” he said, “that you are a lawyer’s daughter. +What were you looking at across there—so fascinatedly?”</p> +<p>“Them hills,” she enlightened succinctly.</p> +<p>Spurrier studied her. Her deep eyes had held a +glow of almost prayerful enchantment for which her +laconic words seemed inadequate.</p> +<p>Watching her out of the tail of his eye he fell into +borrowed phrases: “‘Violet peaks uplifted through +the crystal evening air.’”</p> +<p>She shot a glance at him suddenly, eagerly; then at +once the lids lowered, masking the eyes again as she +inquired:</p> +<p>“Thet thar’s poetry, ain’t hit?”</p> +<p>“I’m prepared to go to the mat with any critic who +holds the contrary,” he assured her.</p> +<p>“Hit’s comin’ on ter be night. I’ve got ter start +home,” she irrelevantly announced, as she slid from +her rough throne, and the man fell boldly in step at +her side.</p> +<p>“When your honor rules on the matter under advisement,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +he said humbly before their paths separated, +“please remember that the defendant was a +poor wretch who didn’t know he was breaking the +law.”</p> +<p>For the first time their glances engaged fully and +without avoidance, and a twinkle flashed in the girl’s +pupils.</p> +<p>“<i>Ignorantia legis neminem excusat</i>,” she serenely +responded, and Spurrier gasped. Here was a girl who +could not steer her English around the shoals of illiteracy, +giving him his retort in Latin: “Ignorance of +the law excuses no one.” Of course, it meant only +that her quick memory had appropriated and was +parroting legal phrases learned from her father, but it +struck the chord of contrasts, and to the man’s imagination +it dramatized her so that when she had gone +on with the lissome grace of her light stride, he stood +looking after her.</p> +<p>Rather abruptly after that the autumn fires of +splendor burned out to the ashes of coming winter, +and then it was that Spurrier went north. As his +train carried him seaward he had the feeling that it +was also transporting him from an older to a younger +century, and that while his mind dwelt on the stalwart +and unsophisticated folk with whom he had been +brushing shoulders, the life resolved itself into an +austere picture against which the image of Glory stood +out with the quick vividness of a red cardinal flitting +among somber pine branches.</p> +<p>Because she was so far removed from his own orbit +he could think of her impersonally and enjoy the +thought as though it were of a new type of flower or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +bird, recognizing her attractive qualities in a detached +fashion.</p> +<p>As Spurrier gave himself up to the relaxation of +reminiscence with that abandon of train travel which +admits of no sustained effort, he began comparing this +life, left over from another era, with that he had +known against more cultivated and complex backgrounds.</p> +<p>Then in analytical mood he reviewed his own past, +looking with a lengthening of perspective on the love +affair that had been broken by his court-martial. His +adoration of the Beverly girl had been youthful +enough to surround itself with young illusions.</p> +<p>That was why it had all hurt so bitterly, perhaps, +with its ripping away of his faith in romantic conceptions +of love-loyalty.</p> +<p>He wondered now if he had not borne himself with +the Quixotic martyrdom of callowness. He had +sought to shield the girl from even the realization that +her lack of confidence was ungenerous. He had +sought to take all the pain and spare her from sharing +it. But she had solaced herself with a swift recovery +and a new lover, and had he been guilty she +could not have abandoned him more cavalierly. Well, +that softness belonged to an out-grown stage of development.</p> +<p>He had seen himself then as obeying the dictates +of chivalry. He thought of it now as inexperienced +folly—perhaps, so far as she was concerned, as a lucky +escape. His amours of the present were not so +naively conducted. To Vivian he had paid his attentions +with an eye watchful of material advantages. +They belonged to a sophisticated circle which seasoned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +life’s fare rather with the salt of cynicism than +with the sugar of romanticism. Yet the thought of +Vivian caused no pulse to flutter excitedly.</p> +<p>The glimpse of Glory had been refreshing because +she was so honest and sincere that she disquieted +one’s acquired cynicism of viewpoint. One might as +well spout world-wisdom to a lilac bush as to Glory! +Yet there was a sureness about her which argued for +her creed of wholesome, simple things and old half-forgotten +faiths which one would like to keep alive—if +one could.</p> +<p>Snow drifted in the air and made a nimbus about +each arc light as Spurrier’s taxi, turning between the +collonade pillars of the Pennsylvania Station, gave +him his first returning glimpse of New York. He had +come East in obedience to a wired summons from +Martin Harrison, brief to curtness as were all business +messages from that man of few and trenchant +words. The telegram had been slow crossing the +mountain, but Spurrier had been prompt in his response.</p> +<p>A tempered glare hung mistily above the Longacre +Square district through the snow flurries to the north, +and the rumbled voice of the town, after these months +in quiet places, was to the returned pilgrim like the +heavy breathing of a monster sleeping out a fever.</p> +<p>At the room that he kept at his club in Fifth Avenue—for +that was a part of the pretentious display of +affluence made necessary by his ambitious scheme of +things—he called up a number from memory. It was +a number not included in the telephone directory, and, +recognizing the voice that answered him, he said +briefly:</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></div> +<p>“Manners, this is Mr. Spurrier. Will you tell Mr. +Harrison I’m on the wire?”</p> +<p>“Hello, Spurrier,” boomed a deep voice after an +interval. “We’re dining out this evening and we go +to the opera afterward, but I want a word with you +to-night. In fact, I want you to start for Russia on +Wednesday. Drop into our box, and drive home with +me for a few minutes afterward.”</p> +<p>Russia on Wednesday! Spurrier’s unoccupied hand +clenched in irritation, but his voice was as unruffled +as if he had been asked to make ready for a journey +to Hoboken. He knew enough of Harrison’s methods +to ask no questions. If they could have been answered +over the phone Harrison could have found many men +to send to Russia. It was because they were for his +ear alone that he had been called to New York.</p> +<p>That evening he listened to “Otello” with thoughts +that wandered from the voices of the singers. They +refused even to be chained by the novelty of a slender +tenor as a new Russian star held the spotlight. He +was studying the almost too regular beauty of Vivian +Harrison’s profile as she sat serene and self-confident +with the horseshoe of the Metropolitan beyond her.</p> +<p>At midnight Spurrier sat with Harrison in his +study and listened to a crisp summarizing of the Russian +scheme. It proved to be a project boldly conceived +on a broad scale and requiring an ambassador +dependable enough and resourceful enough to decide +large matters as they arose, without cabling for instructions.</p> +<p>In turn Spurrier talked of his own past doings, and +through their cigar smoke the seeming idleness of +those weeks assayed a wealth of exact information +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +and stood revealed as the incubation period of a large +conception. Keenly formulated plans emerged from +his recitals so simply and convincingly that the greater +financier leaned forward and let his cigar die.</p> +<p>Then Harrison rose and paced the room.</p> +<p>“You know something about me, Spurrier,” he +began. “When I came East they laughed at me—if +they deigned to notice me at all. They said: ‘Here +comes a bushleaguer who thinks he’s good enough for +the big game. It’s one more lamb to the shearing +shed.’ That’s the East, Spurrier! That’s cocksure +New York! They sneer at a Western-bred horse—or +a Western-trained prize fighter—and when the +newcomer licks the best they’ve got they straightway +let out a holler that they taught him all he knows. +Why, New York would die of lassitude and anæmia if +it wasn’t for blood infusions from the provinces!”</p> +<p>Spurrier gazed interestedly at the tall figure of the +man with the sandy red mustache, and the snapping +eyes, who for all his impeccability of evening dress, +might have taken a shovel or pick from a section +hand and taught him how to level a road bed. Harrison +laughed shortly.</p> +<p>“They haven’t inhaled me so far. I brought only +a million with me to this town, and I’ve got—well, +I’ve got plenty, but I can’t call it a day quite yet. +There’s one buccaneer to be settled with first! He’s +got to go to the mat with me and come up bloody +enough to admit that he’s been in a ruction. He +chooses to pretend that I’m nonexistent, and I won’t +stand being ignored! I want to leave my mark on +that man, and with God’s help—and yours—I’m going +to do it!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></div> +<p>“You mean Trabue?” asked Spurrier, and Harrison’s +head gave a decisive jerk of affirmation while +the hot glow of his eyes made his companion think of +smelting furnaces.</p> +<p>“That’s why this thing of yours interests me. +That’s why I’m willing to get behind you and back you +to the hilt,” the big fellow of finance went on. “A. +O. and G. are trying to hold others out of this Kentucky +field. That proves that they think enough of +it to be hurt by having it torn from their teeth. All I +need to know is what will hurt them! If you can +take some teeth along with the bone, so much the better.” +He paused, then in a voice that had altered to +cold steadiness, commanded: “Now, give me your +facts.”</p> +<p>“At present prices of oil,” summarized Spurrier, +“the development back of Hemlock Mountain +wouldn’t pay. With higher market values, it <i>would</i> +pay, but less handsomely than other fields A. O. and +G. can work. Once the initial cost is laid out, the +profit will be constant. The A. O. and G. idea is to +hold it in reserve and await developments—meanwhile +keeping up the ‘no trespass’ sign.”</p> +<p>“Doesn’t the range practically prohibit railroading?”</p> +<p>“Possibly—but it doesn’t prohibit pipe lines.”</p> +<p>Spurrier opened the packet he had brought in his +overcoat pocket and spread a map under the flooding +light of a table lamp.</p> +<p>“I have traced there what seems to me a practical +piping route,” he explained. “I call it the neck of +the bottle. There is a sort of gap through the hills +and a porous formation caused by a chain of caverns. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +Nature is willing to help with some ready-made tunnels.”</p> +<p>“Why haven’t they discovered that?”</p> +<p>“The oil development of fifteen years ago never +crossed Hemlock Mountain. It came the other way.”</p> +<p>Harrison stood thinking for a time, then demanded +tersely: “Have you secured any land or options?”</p> +<p>“Not an acre, nor an inch,” laughed Spurrier. +“This is a waiting game. I don’t mean to appear interested. +If any man offered to give me a farm I +should say it wasn’t worth State taxes.”</p> +<p>“How do we get the property into our hands +then?”</p> +<p>“The buying must be gradual and through men +with whom we appear to have no connection.”</p> +<p>“And the State charter—how about that?”</p> +<p>“There lies the chief problem,” admitted Spurrier. +“The charter must come from a legislature that A. O. +and G. can, at present, control.”</p> +<p>“What,” Harrison shot the question out like a cross-examiner, +“is the present attitude of the natives toward +oil and oil men?”</p> +<p>“Indifference and skepticism.” The reply was +prompt but the amplification more deliberate. “Once +they saw wealth ahead—then the boom collapsed, and +they have no longer any faith in the magic of the word +‘oil.’”</p> +<p>“I presume,” suggested Harrison, “you are encouraging +that disbelief?”</p> +<p>Spurrier’s face clouded, but only for a moment. +“I am the most skeptical of all the skeptics,” he assented, +“and yet I’m sorry that they can’t be gainers. +They are an honest, upstanding folk and they have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +always felt the pinch of privation. After all they are +the rightful owners and development of their country +ought to benefit them. Of course, though, to forecast +the possibilities would kill the game. We can’t +take them into our confidence without sounding a +warning to the enemy.”</p> +<p>“Growing sentimental?” queried Harrison dryly, +and the younger man shook his head.</p> +<p>“No,” he responded slowly, “I can’t afford that—yet.”</p> +<p>“And see that you don’t,” admonished the chief +sharply. “Bear in mind, as you have in the past, that +we don’t want to depend on men of brittle resolution +and temperamental squeamishness. We are in this +thing toward a definite end and not as humanitarian +dreamers. However——” He broke off abruptly +and added in a milder voice, “I don’t have to caution +you. You understand the proposition.”</p> +<p>For some minutes the cigar smoke floated in a silent +room, while Martin Harrison sat with the knitted +brows of concentrated thought. Spurrier did not interrupt +the mental process which he knew had the +heat and power of an ore smelter, reducing to fluid +amenability the hard metal of a stubborn proposition. +He knew, too, that the fuel which fed the fire was his +principal’s animosity against Trabue, rather than the +possibilities or extent of the loot. This, no less than +the mountain vendetta, was, in last analysis, a personal +feud and in the parlance of the Cumberlands a +“war was in ther b’ilin’.”</p> +<p>At last Harrison straightened up and tossed away +his cigar.</p> +<p>“You are ambitious, Spurrier,” he said. “Put this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +thing over and I should say that all your ambitions +can come to realization.”</p> +<p>While he sat waiting Spurrier had lifted from the +table a photograph of Vivien, appropriately framed in +silver. He had taken it up idly because it was a new +portrait and one that he had not before seen, but into +the gesture the father read a deeper significance. It +was as if Spurrier had asked “All my ambitions?” +and had emphasized his question by laying his hands +on the picture of the girl. That, thought Harrison, +was an audacious suggestion, but it was Spurrier’s +audacity that recommended him.</p> +<p>Slowly the capitalist’s eyes lighted into an amused +smile as their glance traveled from the younger face +to the framed photograph, and slowly he nodded his +head.</p> +<p>“<i>All</i> your ambitions,” he repeated meaningly, then +with the electric snap of warning in his voice he added +an admonition: “But don’t underestimate the difficulties +of your undertaking. You are bucking the +strongest and most relentless piracy in finance. You +will incur enmities that will stop nowhere, and you +must operate in a country where murderers are for +‘hire.’”</p> +<p>The threat of personal danger just at that moment +disquieted John Spurrier less than the other curtailment +of freedom implied in Harrison’s words; the +tacit acceptance of him as Vivien’s suitor. It came +to him abruptly that he did not love Vivien; that he +wished to remain untrammeled. Heretofore, he had +always postponed matrimonial thoughts for the misty +future. Now they became embarrassingly near and +tangible.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></div> +<p>But quick on this realization followed another. +Here was an offered alliance of tremendous advantage +and one not to be ignored. To be Vivien’s husband +might fail of rapture, but to be Martin Harrison’s +son-in-law meant triumph. It meant his own nomination +as heir apparent and successor in that position +of cardinal importance to which he had looked upward +as to a throne.</p> +<p>There was no trace of dubiety in his voice as he +answered:</p> +<p>“I have counted the handicaps, sir. I’m taking my +chance with open eyes.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX' id='CHAPTER_IX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +</div> +<p>Sim Colby, after that day when he had slipped +through the laurel, had gone back to his own +house and waited for the talk of John Spurrier’s +mysterious death to drift along the waterways where +news is the only speedy traveler.</p> +<p>There had been no such gossip and he had dared +betray his interest by no inquiry, but he knew it could +have only one meaning; that he had failed.</p> +<p>Spurrier was alive, and obviously he was holding +his counsel concerning his narrow escape. This silence +seemed to Sim Colby an ominous thing indicative of +some crafty purpose—as if the intended victim were +stalking grimly as well as being stalked. Sim came +of a race that knows how to bide its time and that can +keep bright the edge of hatred against long-delayed +reprisals. It was certainly to be presumed that Spurrier +had taken some of his friends into his confidence +and that under the mantle of silence over on Little +Turkey Tail, these friends were now watchfully alert. +The enterprise that had once failed could not be reundertaken +at once. Sim must wait for the vigilance +to “blow over,” and while he waited the rancor of +his hatred must fester with the thorn-prickings of a +thousand doubts and apprehensions.</p> +<p>Then he heard one day that Spurrier had left the +mountains, and on another day the news was brought +that the grand jury had declined to reopen the old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +issues of the murder case in which Mosebury had +escaped justice. Both these things were comforting in +themselves, but they failed of complete reassurance +for the deserter.</p> +<p>Men said that Spurrier was coming back again, so +the day of reckoning was only deferred—not escaped.</p> +<p>The determination with which Sim had set out on +his mission of death had largely preëmpted his field of +thought. Now, after weeks and months of brooding +reflection, he himself had become only a sort of human +garment worn by the sinister spirit of resolve.</p> +<p>So all that winter while John Spurrier was away +as the ambassador, practicing in Moscow and Odessa +the adroit arts of financial diplomacy, the fixed idea +of his assassination was festering in the mind of the +man who lived, under an assumed name, at the head +of Little Quicksand.</p> +<p>That obsession took fantastic shapes and wove +webs of grotesque patterns of hate as Colby, who had +been Grant, sat brooding before his untidy hearth +while the winter winds wailed about the eaves and +lashed the mountain world into forlorn bleakness.</p> +<p>And while Colby meditated unendingly on the absentee +and built ugly plans against his return, so in +another house and in another spirit, the ex-officer was +also remembered.</p> +<p>Winter in these well-nigh roadless hills meant a +blockade and a siege with loneliness and stagnation +as the impregnably intrenched attackers. The victims +could only wait and endure until the rescue +forces of spring should come to raise the chill and +sodden barricade, with a flaunting of blossom-banners +and the whispered song of warm victory.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span></div> +<p>Glory Cappeze, for the first time in her life, suffered +from loneliness. She had thought herself too +used to it to mind it much, but John Spurrier had +brought a new element to her existence and left behind +him a void. She had been hardly more than +an onlooker to his occasional visits with her father, +but she had been a very interested onlooker. When +he talked a vigorous mind had spoken and had +brought the greater, unknown, outer world to her +door. The striking face with its square jaw; the ingrained +graces and courtesies of his bearing; the +quickness of his understanding—all these things had +been a light in the gray mediocrity of uneventful +days and a flame that had fired her imagination to a +splendid disquiet.</p> +<p>The infectious smile and force of personality that +had been a challenge to more critical women, had +been almost dazzling qualities to the mountain girl of +strangled opportunities.</p> +<p>But it was that last meeting in which he had +thawed her shyness into friendliness that Glory remembered +most eagerly. That had seemed to make +of Spurrier not only a hero admired from a distance +but a hero who was also a friend, and she was hungry +for friends.</p> +<p>So it came to pass that to these two widely variant +welcomes, neither of which he suspected, John Spurrier +was returning from Russia when spring had +lightly brushed the Cumberland slopes with delicate +fragrance and the color of blossoming.</p> +<p>In Louisville, in Frankfort, and in other Kentucky +towns along his way the returning man had made +stops and investigations, to the end that he came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +primed with certain information of an ex-cathedra +sort.</p> +<p>The fruits of this research included an abstract of +the personnel of the legislature and the trend of oil +influences in State politics, and he studied his notebook +as he traveled from the rolling, almost voluptuous +fertility of the bluegrass section to the piedmont +where the foothills began to break the sky.</p> +<p>On the porch of the dilapidated hotel at Waterfall +a sparse crowd centered about a seated figure, and +when he had reached the spot Spurrier paused, challenged +by a sense of the medieval, that gripped him as +tangibly as a hand clapped upon his shoulder.</p> +<p>The seated man was blind and shabby, with a beggar’s +cup strapped to his knee, and a “fiddle” nestling +close to the stubbled chin of a disfigured face. He +sang in a weird falsetto, with minors that rose thin +and dolorous, but he was in every essential the ballad +singer who improvised his lays upon topical themes, +as did Scott’s last minstrel—a survival of antiquity.</p> +<p>Now he was whining out a personal plaint in the +words of his “song ballet.”</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“I used ter hev ther sight ter see ther hills so high an’ green,</p> +<p>I used ter work a standard rig an’ drill fer kero<i>sene</i>.”</p> +</div></div> +<p>The singer’s lugubrious pathos appeared to be received +with attentive and uncritical interest. Beyond +doubt he took himself seriously and sadly.</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“I used ter know a woman’s love, an’ read a woman’s eyes,</p> +<p>An’ look into my baby’s face an’ dwell in paradise,</p> +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span></p> +<p>Until a comp’ny foreman, plum’ heedless in his mind</p> +<p>Let nitroglycer<i>een</i> explode an’ made me go stone blind.”</p> +</div></div> +<p>Spurrier, half-turning, saw a traveling salesman +standing at his elbow with a repressed grin of amusement +struggling in his glance.</p> +<p>“Queer card, that,” whispered the drummer. “I’ve +seen him before; one of the wrecks left over from the +oil-boom days. A ‘go-devil’ let loose too soon and +blinded him.” He paused, then added as though by +way of apology for his seeming callousness: “Some +people say the old boy is a sort of a miser and has a +snug pile salted away.”</p> +<p>Spurrier nodded and went on into the office, but +later in the day he sought out the blind fiddler and engaged +him in conversation. The man’s blinding had +left him a legacy of hate for all oil operators, and +from such relics as this of the active days Spurrier +knew how to evoke scraps of available information. +It was not until later that it occurred to him that he +had answered questions as well as asked them—but, +of course, he had not been indiscreet.</p> +<p>With John Spurrier, riding across hills afoam with +dogwood blossom and tenderly vivid with young +green, went persistently the thought of the blind beggar +who seemed almost epic in his symbolism of +human wreckage adrift in the wake of the boom. Yet +he was honest enough to admit inwardly that should +victory fall to his banners there would be flotsam in +the wake of his triumph, too; simple folk despoiled +of their birthright. He came as no altruist to fight +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +for the native born. He, no less than A. O. and G., +sought to exploit them.</p> +<p>When he went to the house of Dyke Cappeze he did +not admit the curiosity, amounting to positive anxiety, +to see again the little barbarian, who slurred consonants, +doubled her negatives, split her infinitives and +retorted in the Latin of Blackstone. Yet when Glory +did not at once appear, he found himself unaccountably +disappointed.</p> +<p>“There’s been another stranger in here since you +went away,” the old man smilingly told him. “What +is he doing here? That’s the one burning question +debated along the highways when men ‘meet and make +their manners.’”</p> +<p>“Well,” laughed Spurrier, “what <i>is</i> he doing here?”</p> +<p>Cappeze shrugged his bent shoulders as he knocked +the rubble from his pipe and a quizzical twinkle came +into his eyes.</p> +<p>“So far as I can make out, sir, he’s as much a +gentleman of leisure as you are yourself.”</p> +<p>Spurrier knew what an excellent subterfuge may +sometimes lie in frankness, and now he had recourse +to its concealment.</p> +<p>“Good heavens, Mr. Cappeze, I’m no idler!” he declared. +“I’m associated with capitalists who work me +like a mule. Since I saw you, for example, I’ve been +in Russia and I’ve been hard-driven. That’s why I +come here. If I couldn’t get absolutely away from it +all now and then, I’d soon be ready for a madhouse. +Here I can forget all that and keep fit.”</p> +<p>Cappeze nodded. “That’s just about the way I +sized you up. At first, folks pondered about you, too, +but now they take you on faith.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></div> +<p>“I hope so—and this new man? Has he stepped on +anybody’s toes?”</p> +<p>“Not yet. He hasn’t even bought any land, but +there have been some several transfers of property, +in other names, since he came. He <i>may</i> be some man’s +silent partner.”</p> +<p>“What sort of partnership would it be?”</p> +<p>“God knows.” For an instant the shrewd eyes +leaped into a glint of feeling. “These poor benighted +devils suspect the Greeks bearing gifts. Civilization +has always come here only to leave its scar. They have +been stung once—over oil. God pity the man who +seeks to sting them again.”</p> +<p>“You think,” Spurrier responded lightly, as one +without personal interest, “they wouldn’t take it +kindly?”</p> +<p>Once again the sonorous and kindly voice mounted +abruptly to vehemence.</p> +<p>“As kindly, sir, as a wolf bitch robbed, the second +time, of her whelps. It’s all a wolf bitch has.”</p> +<p>That evening as he walked slowly homeward with +a neighbor whom he had met by the way, Spurrier +came face to face with Wharton, the other stranger, +and the mountaineer performed the offices of introduction.</p> +<p>The two men from the outer world eyed each other +incuriously and parted after an exchange of commonplaces.</p> +<p>When Spurrier separated from his chance companion, +the hillsman drawled: “Folks <i>says</i> thet feller’s +buyin’ land. God knows what fer he wants hit, but ef +he <i>does</i> hone fer hit, hit’s kinderly probable thet hit’s +wuth holdin’ on to.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></div> +<p>When the brook trout began to leap and flash Cappeze +delegated Glory to act for him as Spurrier’s +guide, and as the girl led the way to the likeliest pools, +the young, straight-growing trees were not more +gracefully slender.</p> +<p>The fragrance from the pink-hearted laurel and the +locust bloom had no delicacy more subtle or provocative +than that of her cheeks and hair. The breeze in +the nodding poplar tops seemed scarcely freer or +lighter than her movements. Like the season she was +young and in blossom and like the hills she was wild +of beauty.</p> +<p>Spurrier admitted to himself that, were he free to +respond to the pagan and vital promptings of impulse, +instead of standing pledged to rigid and austere +purposes, this girl would have made something ring +within him as a tuning fork rings to its note.</p> +<p>Since the days of Augusta Beverly’s ascendency, +he had never felt the need of raising any sort of defense +between himself and a woman. At first he had +believed himself, with youthful resentment, a woman-hater +and more latterly he had become in this, as in +other affairs, an expedientist. Augusta had proven +weak in loyalty, under stress, and Vivian had been +indifferent to the ostracism of his former comrades so +long as her own aristocracy of money accepted him. +Both had been snobs in a sense, and in a sense he too +was a snob.</p> +<p>But because this girl was of a simplicity that regarded +all things in their primary colors and nothing +in the shaded half-tones of politer usage, it was needful +to guard against her mistaking his proffered comradeship +for the attitude of the lover—and that would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +have been most disastrous. It would have made necessary +awkward explanations that would wound her, +embarrass him and arouse the old man’s just ire. For +people, he was learning, may be elementally uncouth +and yet prouder than Lucifer, and except when he +was here on their own ground there was no common +meeting place between their standards of living.</p> +<p>Yet Glory’s presence was like a gypsy-song to his +senses; rich and lyrical with a touch of the plaintive. +Glory, he knew, would have believed in him when +Augusta Beverly had doubted, and would have stood +fast when Augusta had cut loose.</p> +<p>This was the sort of thought with which it was +dangerous to dally—and perhaps that was precisely +why, under this tuneful sky, it pleased him to humor +it. Certainly, whatever the cause, the sight of her +made him step more elastically as she went on ahead.</p> +<p>When they had whipped the streams for trout until +hunger clamored, Spurrier sat, with a sandwich in his +hand in grass that waved knee-high, and through half +closed lids watched Glory as she moved about crooning +an old ballad, and seemingly unconscious of himself, +herself and all but the sunlit spirit of the early +summer day.</p> +<p>“Glory,” he said suddenly, calling her by her given +name for the first time and in a mood of experiment.</p> +<p>As naturally as though she had not noted his lapsed +formality, she turned toward him and answered in +kind.</p> +<p>“What air hit, Jack?”</p> +<p>“Thank you.”</p> +<p>“What fer?”</p> +<p>“For calling me Jack.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></div> +<p>Then her cheeks colored deeply and she wheeled to +her work again. But after a little she faced him once +more to say half angrily:</p> +<p>“I called ye Jack because ye called me Glory. +You’ve always put a Miss afore hit till now, an’ I +’lowed ye’d done made up yore mind ter be friendly +at last.”</p> +<p>“I’ve always wanted to be friendly,” he assured her. +“It was you who began with a hickory switch and +went on with hard words in Latin.”</p> +<p>The girl laughed, and the peal of her mirth transmuted +their status and dispelled her self-consciousness. +She came over and stood looking down at him +with violet eyes mischievously a-sparkle.</p> +<p>“The co’te,” she announced, “hes carefully weighed +there evidence in ther case of Jack Spurrier, charged +with ther willful murder of Bob White, and is ready +to enter jedgment. Jack Spurrier, stand up ter be +sentenced!”</p> +<p>The man rose to his feet and stood with such well-feigned +abjectness of suspense that she had to fight +back the laughter from her eyes to preserve her own +pose of judicial gravity.</p> +<p>“It is well established by the evidence befo’ <a name='TC_4'></a><ins title='Was there'>ther</ins> +co’te,” she went solemnly on, “thet ther defendant is +guilty on every count contained in the indictment.” +She checked off upon the fingers of the left hand the +roster of his crime as she summarized it.</p> +<p>“He entered inter an unlawful conspiracy with the +codefendant Rover, a setter dawg. He made a felonious +assault without provocation. He committed murder +in the first degree with malice prepense.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></div> +<p>Spurrier’s head sank low in mock despair, until +Glory came to her peroration and sentence.</p> +<p>“Yet since the defendant is amply proved to be a +poor, ignorant wanderer upon the face of the earth, +unpossessed of ordinary knowledge, the court is constrained +to hold him incapable of discrimination between +right an’ wrong. Hence he is not fully responsible +for his acts of violence. Mercy as well as +justice lies in the province of the law, twins of a +sacred parentage and equal before the throne.”</p> +<p>She broke off in a laugh, and so sudden was the +transition from absolute mimicry that the man forgot +to laugh with her.</p> +<p>“Glory,” he demanded somewhat breathlessly, “have +you ever been to a theater in your life? Have you +ever seen a real actress?”</p> +<p>“No. Why?”</p> +<p>“Because you <i>are</i> one. Does this life satisfy you? +Isn’t there anything off there beyond the hills that +ever calls you?”</p> +<p>The dancing eyes grew abruptly grave, almost +pained, and the response came slowly.</p> +<p>“<i>Everything</i> down thar calls ter me. I craves hit +all!”</p> +<p>Spurrier suddenly recalled old Cappeze’s half-frightened +vehemence when the recluse had inveighed +against the awakening of vain longings in his daughter. +Now he changed his manner as he asked:</p> +<p>“I wonder if I’d offend you if I put a question. +I don’t want to.”</p> +<p>“Ye mout try an’ see. I ain’t got no power ter +answer twell I hears hit.”</p> +<p>“All right. I’ll risk it. Your father doesn’t talk +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +mountain dialect. His English is pure—and you were +raised close to him. Why do <i>you</i> use—the other +kind?”</p> +<p>She did not at once reply and, when she did, the +astonishingly adaptable creature no longer employed +vernacular, though she spoke slowly and guardedly as +one might who ventured into a foreign tongue.</p> +<p>“My father has lived down below as well as here. +He’s a gentleman, but he aims—I mean he intends—to +live here now till he dies.”</p> +<p>As she paused Spurrier prompted her.</p> +<p>“Yes—and you?”</p> +<p>“My father thinks that while I <i>do</i> live here, I’d +better fit into the life and talk in the phrases that don’t +seem high-falutin’ to my neighbors.”</p> +<p>“I dare say,” he assured her with forced conviction, +“that your father is right.”</p> +<p>There was a brief silence between them while the +warm stillness of the woods breathed its incense and +its langour, then the girl broke out <a name='TC_5'></a><ins title='Was impusively'>impulsively</ins>:</p> +<p>“I want to see and hear and taste everything, out +there!”</p> +<p>Her hands swept outward with an all-embracing +gesture toward the whole of the unknown. “There +aren’t any words to tell how I want it! What do you +want more than anything else, Jack?”</p> +<p>The man remained silent for a little, studying her +under half-lowered lids while a smile hovered at the +corners of his lips. But the smile died abruptly and +it was with deep seriousness that he answered.</p> +<p>“I think, more than anything else, I want a clean +name and a vindicated reputation.”</p> +<p>Glory’s eyes widened so that their violet depths became +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +pools of wondering color and her lips parted in +surprise.</p> +<p>“A clean name!” she echoed incredulously. “What +blight have you got on it, Jack?” Then catching herself +up abruptly she flushed crimson and said apologetically: +“That’s a question I haven’t any license to +put to you, though. Only you broached the subject +yourself.”</p> +<p>“And having broached it, I am willing to pursue +it,” he assured her evenly. “I was an army officer +until I was charged with unprovoked murder—and +court-martialed; dishonorably discharged from the +service in which my father and grandfather had lived +and died.”</p> +<p>For a moment or two she made no answer but her +quick expressiveness of lip and eye did not, even for +a startled interval, betray any shock of horror. When +she did speak it was in a voice so soft and compassionate +that the man thought of its quality before he +realized its words.</p> +<p>“Did the man that—that was <i>really</i> guilty go scot +free, whilst you had to shoulder his blame?”</p> +<p>There had been no question of evidence; no waiting +for any denial of guilt. She had assumed his innocence +with the same certainty that her eye assumed +the flawlessness of the overheard blue. Her interest +was all for his wronging and not at all for his alleged +wrong.</p> +<p>The man started with surprise; the surprise of one +who had trained himself into an unnatural callousness +as a defense against what had seemed a universal +proneness to convict. He had told himself that Glory +would see with a straighter and more intuitive eye. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +He had told her baldly of the thing which he seldom +mentioned out of an inquisitiveness to test her reaction +to the revelation, but he was unprepared for such +unhesitant belief.</p> +<p>“I think you are the first human being, Glory,” he +said quietly but with unaccustomed feeling in his +voice, “who ever heard that much and gave me a +clean bill of health without hearing a good bit more. +Why didn’t you ask whether or not I was guilty?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t have to,” she said slowly. “Some men +could be murderers and some couldn’t. You couldn’t. +You might have to <i>kill</i> a man—but not murder him. +You might do lots of things that wouldn’t be right. +I don’t know about that—but those people that convicted +you were fools!”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” he said soberly. “You’re right, +Glory. I was as innocent of that assassination as you +are, yet they proved me guilty. It was only through +influence that I escaped ending my days in prison.”</p> +<p>Then he gave her the story, which he had already +told her father and no one else in the mountains. She +listened, thinking not at all of the damaging circumstances, +but secretly triumphant that she had been +chosen as a confidant.</p> +<p>But that night Spurrier looked up from a letter he +was reading and let his eyes wander to the rafters and +his thoughts to the trout stream.</p> +<p>It was a letter, too, which should have held his attention. +It contained, on a separate sheet of paper, a +list of names which was typed and headed: “Confidential +Memorandum.” Below that appeared the +notation: “Members of the general assembly, under +American Oil and Gas influence. Also names of candidates +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +who oppose them at the next election, and who +may be reached by us.”</p> +<p>Spurrier lighted his pipe and his face became studious, +but presently he looked up frowning.</p> +<p>“I must speak to old Cappeze,” he said aloud and +musingly. “He’s being unfair to her.” And that did +not seem a relevant comment upon the paper he held +in his hand.</p> +<p>Then Spurrier started a little as from outside a +human voice sounded above the chorus of the frogs +and whippoorwills.</p> +<p>“Hallo,” it sung out. “Hit’s Blind Joe Givins. Kin +I come in?”</p> +<p>A few minutes later into the lamplight of the room +shambled the beggar of the disfigured face, whom +Spurrier had last seen at the town of Waterfall, led by +a small, brattish boy. His violin case was tightly +grasped under his arm, and his free hand was groping.</p> +<p>“I’d done sot out ter visit a kinsman over at ther +head of Big Wolfpen branch,” explained the blind +man, “but ther boy hyar’s got a stone bruise on his heel +an’ he kain’t handily go on, ter-night. We wonder +could we sleep hyar?”</p> +<p>Spurrier bowed to the law of the mountains, which +does not deny shelter to the wayfarer, but he shivered +fastidiously at the unkempt raggedness of his tramp-like +visitor, and he slipped into his pocket the papers +in his hand.</p> +<p>That night before Spurrier’s hearth, as in elder +times before the roaring logs of some feudal castle, +the wandering minstrel paid his board with song and +music; his voice rising high and tremulous in quaint +tales set to measure.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span></div> +<p>But on the next morning the boy set out on some +mission in the neighborhood and left his charge to +await his return, seated in a low chair, and gazing +emptily ahead.</p> +<p>Spurrier went out to the road in response to the +shout of a passing neighbor, and left his papers lying +on the table top, forgetful of the presence of the sightless +guest, who sat so negligibly quiet in the chimney +corner.</p> +<p>When he entered the room again the blind man had +risen from his seat and moved across to the hearth. +On the threshold the householder halted and stood +keenly eyeing him while he groped along the mantel +shelf as if searching with wavering fingers for something +that his eyes could not discover—and the thought +of the papers which he had left exposed caused an +uneasy suspicion to dart into Spurrier’s mind. Any +eye that fell on that list would have gained the key +to his whole strategy and intent, but, of course, this +man could not see. Still Spurrier cursed himself for +a careless <a name='TC_6'></a><ins title='Removed extra quote'>fool.</ins></p> +<p>“I was jest seekin’ fer a match,” said Joe Givins as +a slight sound from the other attracted his attention. +“I aimed ter smoke for a leetle spell.”</p> +<p>The host struck a match and held it while the +broken guest kindled his pipe, then he hurriedly +glanced through his papers to assure himself that +nothing had been disturbed—and though each sheet +seemed as he had left it, the uneasiness in Spurrier’s +mind refused to be stilled.</p> +<p>Presumably this bat-blind ragamuffin was no greater +menace to the secrecy of his plans than a bat itself +would have been, yet a glimpse of this letter would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +have been so fatal that he asked himself anxiously, +“How do I know he’s not faking?” The far-fetched +apprehension gathered weight like a snowslide until +suddenly out of it was born a grim determination.</p> +<p>He would make a test.</p> +<p>Noiselessly, while the ugly face that had been +mutilated by a blasting charge gazed straight and +sightlessly at him, Spurrier opened the table drawer +and took from it a heavy calibered automatic pistol. +It was a deadly looking thing and it needed no cocking; +only the silent slipping forward of a safety catch. +In this experiment Spurrier must not startle his guest +by any ominous sound, but he must satisfy himself +that his sight was genuinely dead.</p> +<p>“I thought,” said the host in a matter-of-fact voice +as he searchingly studied the other face through narrowed +lids, “that when sight went, the enjoyment of +tobacco went with it.” As he spoke he raised and +leveled the cocked pistol until its muzzle was pointed +full into the staring face. Deliberately he set his own +features into the baleful stamp of deadly threat, until +his expression was as wicked and ugly as a gargoyle +of hatred.</p> +<p>If the man were by any possibility shamming it +would take cold nerve to sit there without any hint +of confession as this unwarned demonstration was +made against him—a demonstration that seemed +genuine and murderous. For an instant Spurrier +fancied that he heard the breath rasp in the other’s +throat, but that, he realized, must have been fancy. +The face itself altered no line of expression, flickered +no eyelid. It remained as it had been, stolid and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +blank, so that the man with the pistol felt ashamed of +his suspicion.</p> +<p>But Spurrier rose and leaned across the table slowly +advancing the muzzle until it almost touched the +bridge of the nose, just between the eyes he was so +severely testing. Still no hint of realization came +from the threatened guest. Then the voice of the +blind man sounded phlegmatically:</p> +<p>“That’s what folks say erbout terbaccy an’ blind +men—but, by crickety, hit <i>ain’t so</i>.”</p> +<p>John Spurrier withdrew his pistol and put it back +in the drawer.</p> +<p>“I guess,” he said to himself, “he didn’t read my +letters.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_X' id='CHAPTER_X'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +</div> +<p>Across a tree-shaded public square from the +courthouse and “jail house” at Carnettsville +stood a building that wore the dejected guise +of uncomforted old age, and among the business signs +nailed about its entrance was the shingle bearing the +name of “Creed Faggott, Atty. at Law.”</p> +<p>The way to this oracle’s sanctum lay up a creaking +stairway, and on a brilliant summer day not long after +Spurrier had entertained his blind guest it was climbed +by that guest in person, led by the impish boy whose +young mouth was stained with chewing-tobacco.</p> +<p>This precocious child opened the door and led his +charge in and, from a deal table, Creed Faggott removed +his broganned feet and turned sly eyes upon +the visitors, out of a cadaverous and furtive face.</p> +<p>“You don’t let no grass grow under your feet, do +you, Joe?” inquired the lawyer shortly. “When the +day rolls round, you show up without default or miscarriage.” +He paused as the boy led the blind man to +a chair and then facetiously capped his interrogation. +“I reckon I don’t err in surmisin’ that you’ve come to +collect your pension?”</p> +<p>The blind man gazed vacantly ahead. “Who, +me?” he inquired with half-witted dullness.</p> +<p>“Yes, you. Who else would I mean?”</p> +<p>“Hit’s due, ain’t hit—my money?”</p> +<p>“Due at noon to-day and noon is still ten minutes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +off. I’m not sure the company didn’t make a mistake +in allowing you such a generous compensation for +your accident.” There was a pause, then Faggott +added argumentatively: “Your damage suit would +have come to naught, most likely.”</p> +<p>“Thet ain’t ther way ye talked when I lawed ther +comp’ny,” whined the blind man. “Ye ’peared to be +right ambitious ter settle outen co’te in them days, Mr. +Faggott.”</p> +<p>“The company didn’t want the thing hanging on. +They got cold feet. Well, I’ll give you your check.”</p> +<p>“I’d ruther have hit in cash money—silver money,” +stipulated the recipient of the compromise settlement. +“I kin count <i>thet</i> over by ther feel of hit.”</p> +<p>Faggott snorted his disgust but he deposited in the +outstretched palm the amount that fell due on each +quarterly pay day, and the visitor thumbed over every +coin and tested the edges of all with his teeth. After +that, instead of rising to go, he sat silently reflective.</p> +<p>“That’s all, ain’t it,” demanded the attorney, and +something like a pallid grin lifted the lip corners in the +blind man’s ugly face.</p> +<p>“Not quite all,” replied Joe Givins as he shook his +head. “No, thar’s one other leetle matter yit. I’d love +ter hev ye write me a letter ter ther comp’ny’s boss-man +in Looeyville. I kinderly aims ter go thar an’ +see him.”</p> +<p>This time it was the attorney who, with an incredulity-freighted +voice, demanded: “Who, you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. Me.”</p> +<p>“The Louisville manager,” announced Faggott +loftily, “is a man of affairs. The company conducts +its business here through its local counsel—that’s me.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></div> +<p>“Nevertheless an’ notwithstandin’, I reckon hit’ll +kinderly pleasure ther boss-man ter talk ter <i>me</i>—when +he hears what I’ve got ter tell him.”</p> +<p>A light of greed quickened in the shyster’s narrow +eyes. It was possible that Blind Joe had come by some +scrap of salable information. It had been stipulated +when his damage suit was settled, that he should, paradoxically +speaking, keep his blind eyes open.</p> +<p>“See here, Joe,” the attorney, no longer condescending +of bearing, spoke now with a wheedling insistence, +“if you’ve got any tidings, tell ’em to me. I’m your +friend and I can get the matter before the parties that +hold the purse strings.”</p> +<p>Joe Givins stretched out a wavering hand and groped +before him. “Lead me on outen hyar, boy,” he gave +laconic command to his youthful varlet. “I’m tarryin’ +overlong an’ wastin’ daylight.”</p> +<p>“What’s daylight to you, Joe?” snapped Faggott +brutally, but recognizing his mistake he, at once, +softened his manner to a mollifying tone. “Set still +a spell an’ let’s have speech tergether—an’ a little +dram of licker.”</p> +<p>Ten minutes of nimble-witted fencing ensued between +the two sons of avarice, and at their end the +blind man stumped out, carrying in his breast pocket +a note of introduction to a business man in Louisville—whose +real business was lobbying and directing underground +investigations—but the lawyer was no wiser +than he had been.</p> +<p>And when eventually from the murky lobby of the +Farmers’ Haven Hotel, which sits between distillery +warehouses in Louisville, the shabby mountaineer was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +led to the office building he sought, he was received +while more presentable beings waited in an anteroom.</p> +<p>It chanced that on the same day John Spurrier +spoke to Dyke Cappeze of Glory.</p> +<p>“When we went fishing,” he said, “I asked her +whether she never felt a curiosity for the things beyond +the ridges—and her eagerness startled me.”</p> +<p>An abrupt seriousness overspread the older face and +the answering voice was sternly pitched.</p> +<p>“I should be profoundly distressed, sir,” said Cappeze, +“to have discontent brought home to her. I +should resent it as unfriendly and disloyal.”</p> +<p>“And yet,” Spurrier’s own voice was quickened +into a more argumentative timber, “she has a splendid +vitality that it’s a pity to crush.”</p> +<p>“She has,” came the swift retort, “a contented heart +which it’s a pity to unsettle.”</p> +<p>The elder eyes hardened and looked out over the +wall of obstinacy that had immured Dyke Cappeze’s +life, but his words quivered to a tremor of deep +feeling.</p> +<p>“I’ve given her an education of sorts. She knows +more law than some judges, and if she’s ignorant of +the world of to-day she’s got a bowing acquaintance +with the classics. I’m not wholly selfish. If there was +some one—down below that I could send her to—some +one who would love her enough because she needs to +be loved—I’d stay here alone, and willingly, despite +the fact that it would well-nigh kill me.” He paused +there and his eyes were broodingly somber, then +almost fiercely he went on: “I would trust her in no +society where she might be affronted or belittled. I +would rather see her live and die here, talking the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +honest, old crudities of the pioneers, than have her +venture into a life where she could not make her own +terms.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps she could make her own terms,” hazarded +Spurrier, and the other snapped his head up indignantly.</p> +<p>“Perhaps—yes—and perhaps not. You yourself +are a man of the world, sir. What would—one of +your own sort—have to offer her out there?”</p> +<p>Under that challenging gaze the man from the East +found himself flushing. It was almost as though under +the hypothetical form of the question, the father had +bluntly warned him off from any interference unless +he came as an avowed suitor. He had no answer and +again the lawyer spoke with the compelling force of +an ultimatum.</p> +<p>“She must stay here with me, who would die for +her, until she goes to some man who offers her everything +he has to offer; some man who would die for +her, too.” His voice had fallen into tenderness, but a +stern ring went with his final words. “Meanwhile, +I stand guard over her like a faithful dog. I may be +old and scarred but, by God, sir, I am vigilant and +devoted!” He waved his thin hand with a gesture of +dismissal for a closed subject, and in a changed tone +added:</p> +<p>“I’ve recently heard of two other travelers riding +through—and they have taken up several land options.”</p> +<p>“What meaning do you read into it, Mr. Cappeze?”</p> +<p>The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. If he had no +explanation to offer, it was plain that he did not regard +the coming of the strangers as meaningless.</p> +<p>“I’m going,” said Spurrier casually, “to make a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +trip up Snake Fork to the head of Little Quicksand. +Is there any one up there I can call on for lodging +and information?”</p> +<p>The lawyer shook his head. “It’s a mighty rough +country and sparsely settled. You’ll find a lavish of +rattlesnakes—and a few unlettered humans. There’s +a fellow up there named Sim Colby who might shelter +you overnight. He lives by himself, and has a roof +that sheds the rain. It’s about all you can ask.”</p> +<p>“It’s enough,” smiled Spurrier, and a few days later +he found himself climbing a stiff ascent toward a point +where over the tree-tops a thread of smoke proclaimed +a human habitation.</p> +<p>He was coming unannounced to the house of Sim +Colby, but if he had expected his visit to be an entire +surprise he was mistaken, and if he had known the +agitation that went a little way ahead of him, he would +have made a wide detour and passed the place by.</p> +<p>Sim was hoeing in his steeply pitched field when he +saw and recognized the figure which was yet a half-hour’s +walk distant, by the meanderings of the trail. +The hoe fell from his hand and his posture stiffened so +inimically that the hound at his feet rose and bristled, +a low growl running half smothered in its throat.</p> +<p>Doubtless, Colby reasoned, Spurrier was coming to +his lonely house with a purpose of venom and punishment, +yet he walked boldly and to the outward glance +he seemed unarmed. Hence it must be that in the +former army officer’s plan lay some intent more complex +than mere open-and-shut meeting and slaying: +some carefully planned and guileful climax to be approached +by indirection. Very well, he would also +play the game out, burying his suspicion under a guise +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +of artlessness, but watching every move—and when +the moment came striking first.</p> +<p>At a brook, as he hastened toward his house by a +short cut, he knelt to drink, for his throat was +damnably dry, and in the clear water the pasty pallor +and terror of his face was given back to him, and +warned him. But also the mirroring brought another +thought and the thought fathered swift action. In the +army he had been spare and clean-shaven and a scar +had marked his chin. Now he was bearded. He +carried a beefier bulk and an altered appearance.</p> +<p>Could there be any possibility of Spurrier’s failing +to recognize him—of his having been, after all, ignorant +of his presence here?</p> +<p>Yet his eyes would be recognizable. They were arrestingly +distinctive, for one of them was pale-blue +and the other noticeably grayish.</p> +<p>By the path he was following, stalks of Jimson weed +grew rank, and Sim, rising from his knees, pulled off +a handful of leaves and crushed them between his +palms. When he had reached the house his first action +was to force from this bruised leafage a few drops of +liquid into a saucer and this juice he carefully injected +into his eyes.</p> +<p>Then he went to the door and squinted up at the +sun. It would be fifteen minutes before Spurrier +would arrive and fifteen minutes might be enough. +He half closed his eyes, because they were stinging +painfully, and sat waiting, to all appearances indolent +and thoughtless.</p> +<p>Spurrier plodded on, measuring the distance to the +smoke thread until he came in view of the cabin +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +itself, then he approached slowly since the stiff climb +had winded him.</p> +<p>Now he could see the shingle roof and the log walls, +trailed over with morning-glory vines, and in the door +the slouching figure of a man. He came on and the +native rose lazily.</p> +<p>“My name’s John Spurrier,” called out the traveler, +“and Lawyer Cappeze cited you to me as a man who +might shelter me overnight.”</p> +<p>The man who had deserted chewed nonchalantly +on a grass straw and regarded the other incuriously—which +was a master bit of dissembling. Between +them, it seemed to Sim Colby who had once been +Private Grant, lay the body of a murdered captain. +Between them, too, lay the guilt of his assassination. +To the Easterner’s appraisal this heavy-set mountaineer +with unkempt hair and ragged beard was +merely a local type and yet in one respect he was unforgettable.</p> +<p>It was his eyes. They were arrestingly uncommon +eyes and, once seen, they must be remembered. What +was the quality that made one notice them so instantly, +Spurrier questioned himself. Then he realized.</p> +<p>They were inkily black eyes, but that was not all. +There seemed to be in them no line of demarcation +between iris and pupil—only liquid pools of jet.</p> +<p>The two men sat there as the shadows lengthened +and talked “plumb friendly” as Colby later admitted +to himself. They smoked Spurrier’s “fotched-on” +tobacco and drank native distillation from the demijohn +that Colby took down from its place on a rafter. +Yet the host was filling each tranquilly flowing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +minute with the intensive planning of a hospitality that +was, like Macbeth’s, to end in murder.</p> +<p>Spurrier would sleep in an alcovelike room which +could be locked from the outside. Back through the +brush was a spot of quicksand where a body would +leave no trace. One thing only troubled the planning +brain. He wished he could learn just who knew of +his guest’s coming here; just what precautions that +guest had taken before embarking on such a venture.</p> +<p>From outside came a shout, interrupting these reflections, +and Sim was at once on his feet facing the +front door, with a surreptitious hand inside his shirt, +and one eye covertly watching Spurrier, even as he +looked out. A snarl, too, drew his lips into an unpleasant +twist.</p> +<p>The Easterner put down to mountain caution the +amazing swiftness with which the other had come +from his hulking proneness to upstanding alertness. +But with equal rapidity, Sim’s pose relaxed into ease +and he shouted a welcome as the door darkened with +a figure physically splendid in its spare strength and +commanding height.</p> +<p>Spurrier rose and found himself looking into a face +with most engaging eyes and teeth that flashed white +in smiling.</p> +<p>For a moment as the newcomer gazed at Sim Colby +his expression mirrored some sort of surprise and +his lips moved as if to speak, but Spurrier could not +see, because Colby’s back was turned, the warning +glance that shot between the two, and the big fellow’s +lips closed again without giving utterance to whatever +he had been on the point of saying—something to +do with eyes that had mystifyingly changed their color.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span></div> +<p>“Mister Spurrier, this hyar’s Sam Mosebury,” announced +the host. “Mebby ye mout of heered tell of +him.”</p> +<p>Spurrier nodded. So this was the outlaw against +whose terrorism old Cappeze had broken his Quixote +lances, the windmill that had unhorsed him; the man +with a criminal record at which a wild region trembled.</p> +<p>“I’ve heered tell of Mr. Spurrier, too,” vouchsafed +the murderer equably. “He’s a friend of old Dyke +Cappeze’s.”</p> +<p>The “furriner” made no denial. Though he had +been sitting with his head in the jaws of death ever +since he entered this door, it had been without any +presentiment of danger. Now he felt the menace of +this terrorist’s presence, and that menace was totally +fictitious.</p> +<p>“Mr. Cappeze has befriended me,” he answered +stiffly. “I reckon that’s not a recommendation to you, +is it?”</p> +<p>The man who had newly entered laughed. He drew +a chair forward and seated himself.</p> +<p>“I reckon, Mr. Spurrier, hit ain’t none of my business +one way ner t’other,” he said. “Anyhow, hit +ain’t no reason why you an’ me kain’t be friends, +is hit?”</p> +<p>“It doesn’t make any difficulty with me,” laughed +Spurrier in relief, “if it doesn’t with you.”</p> +<p>Sam Mosebury looked at him, then his voice came +with a dry chuckle of humor.</p> +<p>“Over at my dwellin’ house,” he announced with a +pleasant drawl, “I’ve got me a pet mockin’-bird—an’ +I’ve got me a pet cat, too. Ther three of us meks up +ther fam’ly over thar.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></div> +<p>Spurrier looked at the strong-featured face as he +prompted, “Yes?”</p> +<p>“Waal,” Sam Mosebury waved his hand, and even +his gestures had a spacious bigness about them, “ef +God Almighty didn’t see fit fer thet thar bird an’ thet +thar cat ter love one another—I don’t seek ter alter +His plan. Nonetheless I sets a passel of store by both +of ’em.” He filled his pipe, then his words became +musing, possibly allegorical. “Mebby some day I’ll +<i>ree</i>lax a leetle mite too much in watchin’ an’ then I +reckon ther cat’ll kill ther bird—but thet’s accordin’ +ter nature, too, an’ deespite I’ll grieve some, I won’t +disgust ther cat none.”</p> +<p>That night Spurrier lay on the same shuck-filled +mattress with the man whom the law had not been +strong enough to hang, and for a while he remained +wakeful, reflecting on the strangeness of his bed-fellowship.</p> +<p>But, had he known it, his life was saved that night +because the murderer had arrived and provided an +interfering presence when the plans on foot required +solitude.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI' id='CHAPTER_XI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +</div> +<p>Perhaps old Cappeze had spoken too late when +he sounded his sharp warning to the newcomer +against unsettling the simple contentment of his +daughter’s mind. Always realizing his transient status +in the aloofness of this life, Spurrier had scrupulously +guarded his contact with the girl who belonged +to it and who had no prospect of escaping it. He had +sought to behave to her as he might have behaved to +a child, with grave or gay friendliness untouched by +those gallantries that might have been misunderstood, +yet treating her intelligence with full and adult +equality.</p> +<p>But his inclination to see more of her than formerly +was one that he indulged because it gave him pleasure +and because a failure to do so would have had the +aspect of churlishness.</p> +<p>Those self-confessed traces of snobbery that adhered +to this courtier at the throne of wealth, were attributes +of which the girl saw nothing. Neither did +she see the shell of cynicism which Spurrier had cultivated +and this was not because her insight failed of +keenness, but because in these surroundings they were +dormant qualities.</p> +<p>The self that he displayed here was the self of the +infectious smile, of the frank boldness and good +humor that had made him beloved among his army +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +mess-mates before these more gracious qualities had +been winter-killed by misfortune.</p> +<p>So he was the picturesque and charming version of +himself, and he became to Glory an object of hero +worship, whose presence made the day eventful and +whose intervals of absence were filled with dreams of +his next coming.</p> +<p>It was about this time that John Spurrier, the “opportunity +hound,” made a disquieting discovery. It +came upon him one night as he sat on the porch of +Dyke Cappeze’s log house at twilight, with pipes glowing +and seductive influences stealing into the senses. +Daylight color had faded to the mistiness of tarnished +silver except for a lemon afterglow above western +ridges that were violet-gray, and the evening star was +a single lantern hanging softly luminous, where soon +there would be many others.</p> +<p>Cadenced and melodious as a lullaby fraught with +the magic of the solitudes, the night song of frog and +whippoorwill rose stealingly out of silence, and the +materialist who had been city bound so much since +conviction of crime had shadowed his life discovered +the thing which threatened danger.</p> +<p>It came to him as his eyes met those of Glory, who +sat in the doorway itself—since she, at least, need not +fear to show her face to any lurking rifleman.</p> +<p>The yellow lamplight from within outlined the +lovely contour of her rounded cheek and throat and +livened her hair, but it was not only her undeniable +beauty that caused Spurrier sudden anxiety. It was +the eyes and what he read in them. Instantly as their +gazes engaged she dropped her glance but, in the moment +before she had masked her expression, Spurrier +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +knew that she had fallen in love with him. The eyes +had said it in that instant when he had surprised them. +They had immediately seized back their secret and +hidden it away, but not in time.</p> +<p>The opportunity hound rose and knocked the ash +from his pipe. He wondered whether old Dyke Cappeze, +sitting there inscrutable and dimly shaped in the +shadows, had shared his discovery—that grizzled old +watchdog who was not too far gone to fight for his +own with the strength of his yellowed fangs.</p> +<p>The visitor shook hands and walked moodily home, +and as he went he sought to dismiss the matter from +his mind. It was all a delusion, he assured himself; +some weird psychological quirk born of a man’s innate +vanity; incited by a girl’s physical allurement. He +would go to sleep and to-morrow he would laugh at +the moonshine problem. But he did not find it so easy +to sleep. He remembered one of those men in the +islands who had become a melancholiac. The fellow +had been normal at one moment; then without warning +something like an impenetrable shadow had struck +across him. He had never come out of the shadow. +So this disquiet—though it was abnormal elation +rather than melancholy, had suddenly become a fact +with himself, and instead of dismissing it Spurrier +found himself reacting to it. Not only was Glory +Cappeze in love with him but—absurdity of absurdities—he +was in love with Glory!</p> +<p>It was as irreconcilable with all the logic of his +own nature as any conceivable thing could be, yet it +was undeniably true.</p> +<p>But Spurrier had been there in the hills when summer +had overcome winter. He had seen trickles of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +water grow into freshets and feed rivers. He had +seen clouds as large as one’s hand swell abruptly into +tempests that cannonaded mightily through the peaks, +with the lashing of torrents, the sting of lightnings, +and the onsweep of hurricanes. He had seen the pink +flower of laurel and rhododendron make fragrant +magic over wastes of chocolate and slag-gray mountain +sides, and in himself something akin to these elemental +forces had declared itself. He found himself two +men, and though he swore resolutely that his brain +should dominate and govern, he also recognized in +himself the man of new-born impulses who drew the +high air into his chest with a keen elation, and who +wanted to laugh at the artificial things that life has +wrought into its structure of accepted civilization.</p> +<p>That insurgent part of himself found a truer congeniality +in the company of grizzled old Dyke Cappeze +than that of Martin Harrison; a stronger comradeship +in the frank laugh of Glory than in the cool +intelligence of Vivien’s smile.</p> +<p>Glory’s brain was as alert as quicksilver, and her +heart as high and clean as the hills. Yet in his own +world these two would be as unplaced as gypsies +strayed from their dilapidated caravan. Moreover, it +was ordained that he was to win his game and upon +him was to be conferred an accolade—the hand, in +marriage, of his principal’s daughter.</p> +<p>Spurrier laughed a little grimly to himself. Of the +woman whose hand had been half-promised him he +could think dispassionately and of this other, whom +he could not take with him into his world of artificial +values, he could not think at all without a pounding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +of pulses and a tumult which he thought he had +left behind him with his early youth.</p> +<p>In character and genuine metal of mind, Glory was +the superior of most of those women he knew, yet because +she was country bred and trained to a code that +did not obtain elsewhere, she could no more be removed +from her setting than a blooming eidelweiss +could be successfully transplanted in a conservatory. +He himself was fixed into a certain place which he had +attained by fighting his way, in the figurative sense at +least, over the bodies of the less successful and the +less enduring. It was too late for him to transplant +himself, and he and she were plants of differing soil, +as though one were a snow flower and one a tropic +growth.</p> +<p>Also there were immediate things of which to +think, such as an unexpired threat upon his life.</p> +<p>Already he had escaped the assassin’s first effort, +and he had no guess where the enmity lay which had +actuated that attack. That it still existed and would +strike again he had a full realization. He was not +walking in the shadow of dread but, because he knew +of the menace lurking where all the faces were +friendly, he had begun to feel that companionship of +suspense: that nearness of something in hiding under +which men lived here; and under which women grew +old in their twenties.</p> +<p>And it is not given to a man to live under such conditions, +and remain the man who fights only across +mahogany tabletops in offices. Yet John Spurrier +scornfully reasoned that if he could not remain himself +even in a new and altered habitat, he was a weakling, +and he had no intention of proving a weakling.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></div> +<p>His hand had grasped the plow-haft and, for the +present, at least, his loyalty belonged to his undertaking.</p> +<p>This inward conflict went with him as he rode +across the singing hills to gather up his mail at the +nearest post office and he told himself, “I am a fool +to ponder it.”</p> +<p>Then his thoughts ran on: “It is dwelling on factitious +things that gives them force. Life presents a +Janus aspect of the double-faced at times, but a man +must choose his way and ignore the turnings. Glory +has pure charm. She has a quick mind and a captivating +beauty, but so far as I’m concerned, she is simply +out of the picture. I could be mad about her, if I +let myself—but presumably I am not adrift on a +gulf stream of emotionalism.”</p> +<p>When he had spent an hour in the dusty little town +and turned again into the coolness of the hills, he dismounted +under the shade of a “cucumber tree” and +glanced through those letters that were still unopened. +One envelope was addressed in a hand that tantalized +memory with a half sense of the familiar, and Spurrier’s +brow contracted in perplexity.</p> +<p>Then his face grew abruptly grave. “By heavens!” +he exclaimed. “It’s Withers—Major Withers! What +can he be writing about?”</p> +<p>He opened it and drew out the sheet of paper, and, +as he read, his expression went through the gamut +of surprise and incredulity to a settled sternness of +purpose that made his face stony.</p> +<p>“If it’s true,” he exclaimed, “the man is mine to +kill! No, not to kill, either, but to take alive at all +costs.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></div> +<p>He stood for a moment, his sinewy body answering +to a tremor of deeply shaken emotion. Had he been +mountain-bred and feud-nurtured, the sinister glitter +of his eyes could have been no more relentless. He +was for that moment a man dedicating himself to the +blood oath of vengeance.</p> +<p>Then he composed his features and smoothed out +the letter that his clenched fingers had unconsciously +crumpled. Again he read what Major Withers had to +say:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>I am writing because though I infer that you have succeeded +in material ways, I have heard nothing of your +progress in clearing your name and I know that until that +is accomplished, no success will be complete for you.</p> +<p>Quite recently I have had as my striker a fellow named +Wiley, who used to be in your platoon—and I have talked +with him a good bit. Not long ago he declared to me his +belief that Private Grant who is listed as officially dead, +did <i>not</i> die in the Islands.</p> +<p>He seems to think that Grant made a clean getaway and +went back to the Kentucky mountains from which he came. +He confesses that he gets this idea from nothing more +tangible than casual hints dropped by Private Severance, +whose discharge came shortly after you left us, yet his +impression is so strong as to amount to conviction. Possibly +if you could trace Severance you might learn something. +It’s a vague clew, I admit, but I pass it along to you for +whatever it may be worth.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Slowly, as though his tireless limbs had grown suddenly +old, Spurrier mounted and rode on with reins +hanging. He was so deep in thought that he forgot +the other unopened letters in his pocket.</p> +<p>Grant might be in these same hills with himself; +Grant upon whom his counsel had sought to place the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +blame for the murder of Captain Comyn. If they +could meet alone for the period of a brief interview, +either that question would be finally answered or in +the reckoning one of them would have to die.</p> +<p>But how to trace him in this ragged territory covering +a great and broken area—a territory which God +had seemed to build, as a haven and a hiding place for +men who sought concealment? Grant would in all +likelihood see him first and—he entertained no illusions +as to the result—the deserter would kill him on +sight. On the other hand, it would do Spurrier no +good to kill Grant. If Grant were to serve him it +must be with a confession wrung from living lips, +and on oath.</p> +<p>Of course, too, the years would have changed Grant +so that if they came face to face he would probably +fail to recognize the man he had known only in khaki.</p> +<p>The scarred chin? A beard would obliterate that. +The stature? Added weight or lost weight would +make it seem another man’s.</p> +<p>By processes of elimination Spurrier culled over the +possibilities until at length his glance brightened.</p> +<p>In one particular Private Grant could scarcely disguise +himself. His eyes were in a fashion mismated. +One was light gray and one pale blue. Yes, if ever +they met he would have his clew in that.</p> +<p>And that memory reminded him that he had recently +been impressed to an unusual degree by a pair +of eyes. Whose were they? Oh, yes, he remembered +now. It was the man at whose house he had met Sam +Mosebury—Sim Colby who dwelt over beyond Clubfoot +Branch.</p> +<p>But Colby’s eyes had been noticeable by reason of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +their extraordinary blackness. So that only helped +him in so far as it enabled him to eliminate from all +the thousands of possible men the one man, Sim +Colby.</p> +<p>The afternoon had spent itself toward sunset as he +dismounted and stabled his horse, and it was with a +face still somberly thoughtful that he fitted his key +into the padlock which held his door and entered.</p> +<p>The interior was dusky in contrast with the outer +light, but from one window a shaft of golden radiance +slanted inward and in it the dust motes danced.</p> +<p>Spurrier paused and glanced about him, but before +he had thrown down the hat he had taken from his +perspiring forehead, a sound hideously unmistakable +caused his heartbeat to miss its rhythm and pound in +commotion.</p> +<p>Every man has his one terror, or, at least, one antipathy +which he is unable to treat with customary calmness. +With Spurrier it was everything reptilian. In +the islands he had dreaded the snake menace more +than fever or head hunters. Now, from the darkened +floor near his feet came the vicious whir of rattles, and +as his eyes flashed toward the sound he saw coiled +there a huge snake with its flat, arrow-shaped head +sinuously waving from side to side.</p> +<p>With an agility made lightning-quick by necessity, +he leaped aside and, at the same instant, the snake +launched itself with such venomous force that the +sound of its striking and falling on the puncheon floor +was like the lashing of a mule whip. The man had +felt the disturbed air of its passing as of a sword +stroke that had narrowly missed him.</p> +<p>But he had no leisure to regain the breath that had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +caught startled in his throat, before, from his left, he +heard again the ominous note of warning, and felt +his scalp creep with horror. The place which he had +left locked and believed to be mosquito proof, now +seemed alive with the loathsome trespassers.</p> +<p>As Spurrier leaped for his couch he heard again the +sound of a living coil released and its hawserlike lashing +of the floor. Now he could see more plainly and, +calculating his distance, he jumped for the table from +which he could reach the loaded shotgun that hung +on his wall. If he fell short, he would come down +at their mercy—but he landed securely and without +capsizing his support. His elevation gave him a precarious +sort of safety, but on the floor below him he +counted three rattlesnakes, crawling and recoiling; +their cold-blooded eyes following his movements with +baleful intentness.</p> +<p>Spurrier was conscious of his trembling hands as +he leveled the weapon, and of a crawling sensation of +loathing along his spine.</p> +<p>Twice the gun roared, splintering the flooring and +spattering its ricochetting pellets, and two of the +rattlers twisted in convulsive but harmless writhings. +But the third head—and it seemed the largest of the +three—had withdrawn under the cot. He was not +even sure that these three made up the total. There +might be others.</p> +<p>With painstaking care Spurrier came down and +armed himself with a stout hickory flail which had +been used in other days by some housewife in her +primitive laundry work as a “battling stick.”</p> +<p>Then he advanced to the battle, swinging one end of +the cot wide and shiftily sidestepping. The rattler +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +which lay in piled circles of coppery length regarded +him with steely venom, turning its swaying head deliberately +as its enemy circled. With the startling +abruptness of an electric buzzer it warned and sprang. +He escaped by an uncomfortable margin and attacked +it with the flail before it could rearrange its coils. +Finally he stood panting with exertion over the scene +of slaughter.</p> +<p>As he searched the place with profoundest particularity +his mind was analyzing the strange invasion. +His house was as tight as he had thought it. There +was no cranny that would have let in three large +rattlers. How had they come there?</p> +<p>Spurrier went out and studied his door. The hasps +that held his padlock were in place, but the woodwork +about them had been recently scarred. The lock fastenings +had been pulled out and replaced.</p> +<p>With a nervous moisture on his brow the man recognized +the fiendish ingenuity of his mysterious +enemy. These slithering creatures had come here by +human agency as brute accomplices in the murder that +had failed from the rifle muzzle. The pertinacity and +cunning of the scheme’s anonymous author gave +promise of eventfulness hereafter.</p> +<p>Had he been struck, according to the evident intention, +as he entered his house, he would probably +have died there, unsuccored, leaving the door open. +The rattlers would either have found their way out +after that, or, when his body was discovered, the open +door would have explained their presence inside, and +no suspicion of a man’s conspiracy would have remained.</p> +<p>One thing stood out clear in Spurrier’s summing-up. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +Whatever the source of the enmity which pursued +him, it had its nerve center in an ingenious brain +and it threw about itself that element of mystery +which a timid man would have found terrifying and +unendurable. Also it operated with a patience which +was a manifest of its unswerving determination. +Effort might be expected to follow effort until success +came—or the unknown plotter were discovered +and disposed of.</p> +<p>Yet the author of these malignant attempts worked +with an unflurried deliberation, allowing passive intervals +to elapse between activities, like the volcano +that rests in the quiet of false security between fatal +eruptions.</p> +<p>Of course, the letter with the mention of Private +Grant might be a clew of identity, yet calm reflection +discounted that assumption as a wild and unconfirmed +grasping out after something tangible.</p> +<p>Perhaps Spurrier as nearly approached the absolute +in physical fearlessness as it is given to man to +come—but the mystery of a pursuing hatred which +could not be openly faced, filled him with a sense of +futility, and the futility inspired rage which was unsettling +and must be combated.</p> +<p>That night he lay long awake, and after he had +fallen asleep he came often to a sudden and wide-eyed +wakefulness again at the sound of an owl’s call or the +creaking of a tree limb.</p> +<p>The next morning found him restless of spirit, and +it occurred to him that his secret enemy might be lurking +near to inspect the results of his handiwork, so +he went down to the road and hung the three dead +rattlesnakes along the fence where no passer-by could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +miss seeing their twisted and mutilated lengths. That +should be his retort to any inquiring and hostile eye, +that he was alive and the creatures put there to destroy +him had paid with their lives.</p> +<p>From a place screened from view he meant to watch +that gruesome exhibit and mark its effect upon any +one who paused to inspect it. Possibly in that way a +clew might be vouchsafed—but he did not at once take +cover in the thickets.</p> +<p>It was a glorious morning. The sun had ripped +away the mists that, in the mountains, always hang +damp and veillike between gray dawning and colorful +day. The cool forest recesses were vocal with the +twitterings and song from feathered throats.</p> +<p>Spurrier sat down by the road and gave himself up +to thoughts that it was safer to banish: thoughts that +came with those sights and sounds and that made +long-stilled pulses awaken and throb in him.</p> +<p>This morning made him feel Glory’s presence and +gave him a fine recklessness as to responsibility and +consequence. Suddenly he came to himself and seemed +to hear the cool cynicism of Martin Harrison’s voice +inquiring, as it had once actually inquired: “Growing +sentimental?”</p> +<p>He pulled himself together and stiffened his expression +into one more suitable upon the face of a man +who has taken the severe vows of service to a cold +ambition.</p> +<p>But a little later he heard a sound and looked up +sidewise to see Glory herself standing near him in the +road; a materialization of the truant dreams he had +been entertaining.</p> +<p>She wore a dress whose simplicity accentuated the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +slender erectness of her young body and the litheness +of her carriage. Her hair hung in braids and the +sunbonnet had fallen back from the brightness of her +hair. In her eyes played the violet lights of a merriment +that lifted and curved her lips beguilingly.</p> +<p>Spurrier came to his feet, and perhaps Glory, who +had succumbed to her moment of self-revelation there +on the twilight porch, had her revenge now. For that +first startled moment as their glances met, the eyes +that looked into hers were lover’s eyes, and their unspoken +message was courtship. If he maintained the +stoic’s silence forever, as to words, at least his heart +had spoken.</p> +<p>“Before Heaven,” said the man slowly, and the +tremor of his voice was out of keeping with the ingrained +poise of his usual self-command, “when they +called you Glory, they didn’t misname you!”</p> +<p>The girl flushed pink, and he took a step toward her +with the absorbed intensity of a sleep-walker.</p> +<p>Glory stood there—watched him coming and did +not move. To her, though she had sought to hide it, +he had become the One Man. Her unconfessed love +had magnified and deified him—and now his own eyes +were blazing responsively with love for her!</p> +<p>Suddenly she was shaken by a rapturous tremor +that seemed almost like swooning or being lifted on +some powerful wave that swept her clear of the earth, +so that she made no effort at disguise, but let the +laughing light in her eyes become softer, yet more +glowingly intense.</p> +<p>It was as if they had met in the free realm of +dreams where there are no hamperings of impossibility. +As he drew near her, his arms came out, and he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +halted so that, under that same delightful sense of +irresponsibility, it seemed to her quite natural to step +into their welcome.</p> +<p>Possibly the happenings of yesterday and the sleepless +hours of last night had left Spurrier momentarily +light-headed. Certainly had one of the rattlers stung +him and poisoned his reason, he could not be doing a +thing more foreign to his program of intention.</p> +<p>He felt his arms close about her; felt the fragrance +of her breath, found himself pressing his kisses on +lips that welcomed them, and forgot everything except +that this was a moment of ecstasy and passion.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII' id='CHAPTER_XII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +</div> +<p>For a while they stood there together in the narrow +road to whose edges the dense greenery +came down massed and dewy. Their breath +was quick with the excitement of that moment when +the hills and the rocks that upheld them seemed to +them palpitant and gloriously shaken. Then they +heard the lumbering of wheels, and with one impulse +that needed no expression in words they turned +through a gorge which ran at right angles into the +stillness of the woods—and away from interruption.</p> +<p>Spurrier had, it seemed to him, stepped through a +curtain in life and found beyond it a door of which +he had not known. It seemed natural that he and +Glory should be going hand in hand into that place of +dreams like children at play and hearing joyous voices +that were mute and nonexistent in the world of commonplace +and fact.</p> +<p>He did not even pause to reflect that this was a +continuation of the same ravine in which an assassin’s +bullet had once so narrowly missed him. Yesterday, +too, was forgotten.</p> +<p>Just now he was young in his heart again, and had +love for his talisman. Actuality had been dethroned +by some dream wizardry and left him free of obligation +to reason. Then he heard Glory’s voice low-pitched +and a little frightened.</p> +<p>“It kain’t—can’t—be true. It’s just a dream!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></div> +<p>A flash of sanity, like the shock of a cold plunge, +brought the thought that, from her lips, had sounded +a warning. This was the moment, if ever, to draw +back and take counsel of common sense. Now it +would be easier than later to abase himself and confess +that in this midsummer’s madness was no substance +or color of reality—that he stood unalterably +pledged to her renunciation.</p> +<p>But the earthquake does not still itself at the height +of its tremor and the cyclone does not stop dead with +its momentum unspent. Years of calculated and +nerve-trying self-command were exacting their toll +in the satisfaction of outbreak. Spurrier’s emotional +self was in volcanic eruption, the more molten and +lava-hot for the prolonged dormancy of a sealed +crater.</p> +<p>He caught the girl again and pressed her so close +that the commotion of her heart came throbbing +against him through the yielding softness of her +breast; and the agitation of her breath on his face was +a little tempest of acquiescent sweetness.</p> +<p>“Doesn’t it seem real, now?” he challenged as he +released her enough to let her breathe, yet held her +imprisoned, and she nodded, radiant-eyed, and answered +in a voice half bewildered and more than half +burdened with self-reproach.</p> +<p>“I didn’t even hang back,” she made confession. +“I just walked right into your arms the minute you +held them out. I didn’t seem able to help myself.”</p> +<p>Suddenly her eyes, impenitent once more, danced +with mischief and her smile broke like a sun flash over +her face.</p> +<p>“If I’d had the power of witchcraft, I’d have put +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +the spell on you, Jack,” she declared. “I had to make +you love me. I just <i>had</i> to do it.”</p> +<p>“I rather think you had—that power, dear.”</p> +<p>He laughed contentedly as a man may who shifts +all responsibility for an indiscretion to a force +stronger than his own volition.</p> +<p>“You see,” she went on as if seeking to make illogic +seem logical. “From the first—I couldn’t think of +you except with storm thoughts. I couldn’t keep my +heart quiet, when I was with you.”</p> +<p>“At first,” he reminded her, “you wanted to kill +me. I heard you confiding to Rover.”</p> +<p>Her eyes grew seriously deep and undefensive in +their frankness. It was the candor of a woman’s pride +in conquest.</p> +<p>“I’m not sure yet,” she said almost fiercely, “that +I wouldn’t almost rather kill you than—lose you to +any other girl.”</p> +<p>Vaguely and as yet remotely, Spurrier’s consciousness +was pricked with a forecast of reality’s veto, but +the present spoke in passion and the future whispered +weakly in platitudes.</p> +<p>“You won’t lose me,” he protested. “I’m yours.”</p> +<p>“And yet,” went on Glory, “you seemed a long way +off. You were the man who did big things in the +world outside. You were—always cool and—calculating.”</p> +<p>“Glory,” his words came with the rush of impetuosity +for already the whispers of warning were gaining +in volume, and impulse was struggling for its new +freedom, “the man you’ve seen to-day is one I haven’t +known myself before. Chilled calculation and self-repression +have been the articles of my creed. I’ve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +been crusted with those obsessions like a ship’s hull +with barnacles. Did you know that when vessels pass +through the Panama Canal, the barnacles drop off?”</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>“No,” she said, and her lips twisted into something +like wistfulness as she dropped unconsciously into +vernacular. “There’s a lavish of things I don’t know. +You’ve got to learn ’em all to me—I mean teach them +to me.”</p> +<p>“Well,” he went on slowly, “steamers that pass +through the fresh water, from salt to salt, automatically +cleanse their plates. You’ve been fresh water to +me, Glory.”</p> +<p>“Jack,” she declared with tempestuous anxiety, +“you say I’ve changed you. I’ll try to change myself, +too, all the ways I can—all the ways you want.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want you changed,” he objected. “If you +were changed, it wouldn’t be you.”</p> +<p>“Maybe,” she persisted, “you’d like me better if I +were taller or had black eyes.”</p> +<p>“I wonder now,” he teased with the whimsey of the +moment, “what you would look like with black eyes? +I can’t imagine it. Will you do that for me?”</p> +<p>“Come to our house to-night,” she irrelevantly commanded. +“Won’t you?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, “I’d come to-night if I had to swim +the Hellespont.”</p> +<p>But when he had left her an hour later at the crossroads +and started back, his eyes fell on the ugly shapes +of the three rattlesnakes, over which he had forgotten +to keep watch and which she had not even seen, and +yesterday came back with the impact of undisguised +realization. Yesterday and to-morrow stood out again +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +in their own solid proportions and to-day stood like a +slender wisp of heart’s desire shouldered between uncompromising +giants of fact.</p> +<p>Spurrier could no longer deny that his personal +world centered about Glory; that away from her +would be only the unspeakable bleakness of lonely +heart hunger.</p> +<p>But it was equally certain that he could not abandon +everything upon which he had underpinned his +future, and in that structure was no niche which she +could occupy.</p> +<p>Sitting alone in his house with a chill ache at his +heart and facing a dilemma that seemed without solution, +he knew for once the tortures of terror. For +once he could not face the future intrepidly.</p> +<p>He had recognized when the army had stigmatized +him and cast him out, that only by iron force and aggression +could he break his way through to success. +He was enlisted in a warfare captained by financiers +of major caliber and committed to a struggle out of +which victory would bring him not only wealth, but +a place of his own among such financiers—a place +which Glory could not share.</p> +<p>He and his principals alike were fighting for the +prizes of the looting victor in a battle without chivalry, +and whether he won or was crushed by American +Oil and Gas, the native landholder must be ground +and bruised between the impact of clashing forces. In +the trail of his victory, no less than theirs, would be +human wreckage.</p> +<p>Sitting before his dead hearth while the afternoon +shadows slanted and lengthened, Spurrier wondered +what agonies had wracked the heart of Napoleon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +when he was called upon to choose between Josephine +and a dynasty. For even in his travail the egoist +thought of himself and his ambitions in Napoleonic +terms.</p> +<p>As he sat there alone with silences about his lonely +cabin that seemed speaking in still voices of vastness, +the poignant personality of his thoughts brought him, +by the strange anomaly of life, to realizations that +were not merely personal.</p> +<p>Glory had won his heart and it was as though in +doing so she had also made his feelings quicken for +her people: these people from whose poverty, hospitality +and kindness had been poured out to him: +these people who had taken him at first with reserve +and then accepted him with faith.</p> +<p>He had eaten their bread and salt. He had drunk +their illicit whiskey, given to him with no fear that +he would betray them even in the lawlessness which to +them seemed honorable and fair.</p> +<p>And yet his purpose here, was the single one of enabling +a certain group of money-grabbing financiers +to triumph over another group at the cost of the +mountaineer land-holders. It was not because, if he +succeeded, there would not be enough of legitimate +profit to enrich all, but because in a campaign of +secrecy he could make a confidant of no one. If the +enterprise were carried through at all he must have +secured, for principals who would abate nothing and +give back nothing, the necessary property bought on +the basis of barren farming land. Were it his own +endeavor he could first plunder and develop and then +make restitution, but acting as an agent he could no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +more do that than the soldier who has unconditionally +surrendered, can subsequently demand terms.</p> +<p>The man who had been a plunger at gaming table +and race track, who had succeeded as an imitator of +schemes that attracted major capital, was of necessity +one of imagination. Perhaps had life dealt him +different cards, Spurrier would have been a novelist +or even a poet, for that imagination which he had put +into heavy harness was also capable of flights into +phantasy and endowed with something almost mystic.</p> +<p>Now under the stress of this conflict in his mind, as +he sat before his hearth in shadows that were vague of +light and shape, that unaccustomed surrender to imagination +possessed him, peopling the dimness with +shapes that seemed actual.</p> +<p>His eye fell upon the empty three-legged stool that +stood on the opposite side of the hearth, and as though +he were looking at one of those motion picture effects +which show, in double negative one character confronting +his dual and separate self, he seemed to see a +figure sitting there and regarding him out of contemptuous +eyes.</p> +<p>It was the figure of a very young man clad in the +tunic of a graduating West Point cadet and it was a +figure that bore itself with the prideful erectness of +one who regards his right to wear his uniform as a +privilege of knighthood. For Spurrier was fancying +himself confronted by the man he had been in those +days of eager forward-looking, and of almost religious +resolve to make of himself a soldier in the best +meaning of the word. Then as his eyes closed for a +moment under the vividness of the fancy, the figure +dissolved into its surroundings of shadow and near +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +the stool with folded arms and a bitterer scorn stood +a lieutenant in khaki.</p> +<p>“So this is what you have come to be,” said the +imaginary Spurrier blightingly to the actual Spurrier. +“A looter and brigand no better than the false <i>amigos</i> +that I fought over there. I was a gentleman and you +are a cad!”</p> +<p>Had the man been dreaming in sleep instead of +wakefulness, his vision could hardly have worn habiliments +of greater actuality, and he found himself retorting +in hot defensiveness.</p> +<p>“Whatever I am you made me. It was you who +was disgraced. It is because I was once you that I am +now I. You left me no choice but to fight with the +weapons that came to hand, and those weapons were +predatory.... If I have deliberately hardened myself +it is only as soldiers of other days put on coats of mail—because +soft flesh could not survive the mace and +broadsword.”</p> +<p>“And when you win your prizes, if you ever win +them,” the accusing vision appeared to retort, “you +will have paid for them by spending all that was honorable +in yourself; all that was generous and soldierly. +When you were I, you led a charge across rice paddies +without cover and under a withering fire. For +that you were mentioned in dispatches and you had a +paragraph in the Army and Navy Journal. Have you +ever won a prize since then, that meant as much to +you?”</p> +<p>John Spurrier came to his feet, with a groan in his +throat. His temples were moist and marked with a +tracery of outstanding veins and his hands were +clenched.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></div> +<p>“Good God!” he exclaimed aloud. “Give me back +the name and the uniform I had then, and see how +gladly I’ll tell these new masters to go to hell!”</p> +<p>Startled at the sound of his own voice arguing with +a fantasy as with a fact, the man sank back again into +his chair and covered his face with his spread hands. +But shutting out sight did not serve to shut out the +images of his fancy.</p> +<p>He saw himself hired out to “practical” overlords +and sent to prey on friends, then he rose and stood +confronting the empty stool where the dream-accuser +in uniform had stood and once more he spoke aloud. +As he did so it seemed that the figure returned and +stood waiting, stern and noncommittal, while he addressed +it.</p> +<p>“Give me the success I need, and the independence +it carries, and I’ll spend my life exonerating my name. +I’ll go back to the islands and live among the natives +till I find a man who will tell the truth. I’ll move +heaven and earth—but that takes money. I’ve always +stood, in this business, with wealth just beyond my +grasp—always promised, never realized. Let me realize +it and be equipped to fight for vindication. These +men I serve have the prizes to dispense, but I am +bound hand and foot to them. They take their pay in +advance. Once victorious I can break with them.”</p> +<p>“And these people who have befriended you,” questioned +the mentor voice, “what of them?”</p> +<p>“I love them. They are her people. I shall seem to +plunder them, but if my plans succeed I shall be in a +position to make terms—and my terms shall be theirs. +Until I succeed I must seem false to them. God +knows I’m paying for that too. I love Glory!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span></div> +<p>Suddenly Spurrier wiped a hand across a clammy +forehead and stood looking about his room, empty +save for himself. He seemed a man who had been +through a delirium. But he reached no conclusion, +and when twilight found him tramping toward the +Cappeze house it was with a heart that beat with anticipation—while +it sought refuge in postponed decision.</p> +<p>When Glory received him in the lamp-lighted room +he halted in amazement, for the girl who stood there +with a mischievous smile on her lips no longer looked +at him out of eyes violet-blue, but black as liquid jet.</p> +<p>“How did you do that?” he demanded in a voice +blank with astonishment. “It’s a sheer impossibility!”</p> +<p>“Maybe it’s witchcraft, Jack,” she mocked him.</p> +<p>“Can you change them back?” he asked a little +anxiously, and she shook her head.</p> +<p>“No, but they’ll change of themselves in a day or +two.”</p> +<p>“I reckon,” commented Dyke Cappeze, looking up +from his book by the table, “I oughtn’t to give away +feminine secrets, but it’s a right simple matter, after +all. She just put some Jimson-weed juice in her eyes +and the trick was done.”</p> +<p>“Jimson weed,” echoed the visitor, and the elder +nodded.</p> +<p>“If you happen to remember your botany, you’ll +recall that <a name='TC_7'></a><ins title="Was it's">its</ins> longer name is <i>Datura stramonium</i>—and +it’s a strong mydriatic. It swells the pupil and +obliterates the iris.”</p> +<p>It was walking homeward with a low moon overhead +that evening that Spurrier’s thoughts found time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +to wrestle with other problems than those affecting +himself and Glory. The incident of the black eyes +had at first interested him only because they were <i>her</i> +eyes, but now he thought also of the episode of the +rattlesnakes and the letter from Major Withers.</p> +<p>In his first analysis of what that letter might mean +to him he had decided that his man would be recognizable +by his mismated eyes. He had recalled Sim +Colby’s black ones while thinking of unusual eyes in +general and had, in passing, set him down as one who +stood alibied.</p> +<p>Now, in the light of this Jimson-weed discovery, +those black eyes took on a new interest. Presumably +it was a trick commonly known in these hills. <i>If</i> +Colby’s eyes had been so altered—and they had +seemed unnatural in their tense blackness—it must +have been with a deliberate and sufficient motive. Sim +Colby was not making his pupils smart and sting as a +matter of vanity. A man resorting to disguises seeks +first to change the most salient notes of his appearance.</p> +<p>Spurrier recalled, with the force of added importance, +the surprised look on Sam Mosebury’s face when +that genial murderer, upon his arrival, had stifled +some impulse of utterance.</p> +<p>Suspicion of Colby was perhaps far-fetched, but it +took a powerful hold on Spurrier, and one from which +he could not free himself. At all events, he must see +this Sim Colby when Colby did not know he was +coming—and look at his eyes again.</p> +<p>So he made a second trip across the hills to the head +of Little Quicksand, and for the sake of safeguarding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +against any warning going ahead of him, he spoke to +no one of his intention.</p> +<p>This time he went armed with an automatic pistol +and a very grim purpose. When they met—if the +mountaineer’s eyes were no longer black—he would +probably need both.</p> +<p>But once again the opportunity hound encountered +disappointment. He found a chimney with no smoke +issuing from it and a door barred. The horse had +been taken out of the stable and from many evidences +about the untenanted place he judged that the man +who lived alone there had been absent for several +days.</p> +<p>To make inquiries would be to proclaim his interest +and prejudice his future chances of success, so he +slipped back again as surreptitiously as he had come, +and the determination which he had keyed to the concert +pitch of climax had to be laid by.</p> +<p>At home again he found that the love which he +could neither accept nor conquer was demoralizing his +moral and mental equipoise. He could no longer fix +and hold his attention on the problems of his work. +His spirit was in equinox.</p> +<p>The only solution was to go to Glory and tell her +the truth, for if he let matters run uncontrolled their +momentum would become unmanageable. It was the +simple matter of choosing failure with her or success +without her, and he had at last reached his decision. +It remained only to tell her so.</p> +<p>It had pleased John Spurrier to find a house upon +an isolated site from which he could work unobserved, +while he maintained his careful semblance of idleness. +His nearest neighbor was a mile away as the crow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +flew, and Dyke Cappeze almost two miles. Even the +deep-rutted highroad, itself, lay beyond a gorge which +native parlance called a “master shut-in.”</p> +<p>Now that remoteness pleased his enemies as well. +Former efforts toward his undoing had been balked by +accidents. One must be made that could have no +chance to fail and an isolated setting made for success. +Matters that required deft handling could be +conducted by daylight instead of under a tricky moon. +It was a good spot for a “rat-killing” and Spurrier +was to be the rat.</p> +<p>It was well before sunset on a Thursday afternoon +that rifle-armed men, holding to the concealment of +the “laurel hells,” began approaching the high place +above and behind Spurrier’s house. They came from +varying directions and one by one. No one had seen +any gathering, for the plans had been made elsewhere +and the details of liaison perfected in advance. Now +they trickled noiselessly into their designated posts +and slowly drew inward toward the common center +of the house itself.</p> +<p>Spurrier who rode in at mid-afternoon from some +neighborhood mission commented with pleasure upon +the cheery “Bob Whites” of the quail whistling back +in the timber.</p> +<p>They were Glory’s birds, and this winter he would +know better than to shoot them!</p> +<p>But they were not Glory’s birds. They were not +birds at all, and those pipings came from human +throats, establishing touch as the murder squad advanced +upon him to kill him.</p> +<p>The man opened a package which had come by mail +and drew from its wrappings the portrait of a girl in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +evening dress with a rope of pearls at her throat. Its +silver frame was a counterpart of the one which had +stood on Martin Harrison’s desk that night when +Spurrier had lifted it and Vivien’s father had so meaningly +said: “Make good in this and <i>all</i> your ambitions +can be fulfilled.”</p> +<p>Now Spurrier set the framed picture on the table +at the center of the room and it seemed to look out +from that point of vantage with the amused indulgence +of well-bred condescension upon the Spartan simplicity +of his house—the rough table and hickory-withed +chairs, the cot spread with its gray army +blanket.</p> +<p>The man gave back to the pictured glance as little +fire of eagerness as was given out from it.</p> +<p>Just now Vivien seemed to him the deity and personification +of a creed that was growing hateful, yet +one to which he stood still bound. He was like the +priest whose vows are irrevocable but whose faith in +his dogma has died, and to himself he murmured ironically, +“‘The idols are broke in the temple of Baal’—and +yet I’ve got to go on bending the knee to the +debris!”</p> +<p>But when he turned on his heel and looked through +the door his face brightened, for there, coming over the +short-cut between Aunt Erie Toppit’s and her own +home, was Glory, carrying a basket over which was +tied a bit of jute sacking.</p> +<p>She came on lightly and halted outside his threshold.</p> +<p>“I’m not comin’ visitin’ you, Mr. John Spurrier,” +she announced gravely despite the twinkle in her eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +“I’m bent on a more seemly matter, but I’m crossin’ +your property an’ I hope you’ll forgive the trespass.”</p> +<p>“Since it’s you,” he acceded in the same mock seriousness, +“I’ll grant you the right of way. You paid +the toll when you let me have a glimpse of you.”</p> +<p>“And this is your house,” she went on musingly. +“And I’ve never seen inside its door. It seems strange, +somehow, doesn’t it?”</p> +<p>Spurrier laughed. “Now that you’re here,” he suggested, +“you might as well hold an inspection. It’s +daylight and we can dispense with a chaperon for ten +minutes.”</p> +<p>She nodded and laughed too. “I guess the granny-folk +would go tongue wagging if they found it out. +Anyhow, I’m going to peek in for just a minute.”</p> +<p>She stepped lightly up to the threshold and looked +inside, and the slanting shaft from the window fell +full on the new photograph of Vivien Martin, so that +it stood out in the dim interior emphasized by the +flash of its silver frame.</p> +<p>Glory went over and studied the face with a somewhat +cryptic expression, but she made no comment +and at the door she announced:</p> +<p>“I’ll be goin’ on. You can have three guesses what +I’ve got in this basket.”</p> +<p>But Spurrier, catching sight of a bronze tail-quill +glinting between the bars of the container, spoke with +prompt certainty.</p> +<p>“One guess will be enough. It’s one of those carrier +pigeons that Uncle Jimmy Litchfield gave you.”</p> +<p>“You peeped before you guessed,” she accused. +“I’m going to leave it with Aunt Erie and let her take +it to Carnettsville with her to-morrow and set it free.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></div> +<p>“Compare your watches,” advised the man, “and +get her to note the time when she opens the basket. +Then you can time the flight.”</p> +<p>Glory shook her head and laughed. “I don’t own +any watch,” she reminded him. “And even if I did I +misdoubt if Aunt Erie would have anything to compare +it with—unless she carried her alarm clock along +with her.”</p> +<p>“Wait a minute,” admonished the man, as he loosened +the strap of his wrist watch, “I’ve two as it happens—and +a clock besides. You keep this one and +give Aunt Erie my other. I’ll get it for you and set it +so that they’ll be together to the second.”</p> +<p>He wheeled then and went into the room at the +back and for a few minutes, bachelor-like he rummaged +and searched for the time-piece upon which he +had supposed he could lay his fingers in the dark.</p> +<p>Yet Spurrier’s thought was not wholly and singly +upon the adventure of timing the flight of a carrier +pigeon. In it there lurked a sense of half-guilty uneasiness, +which would have been lighter had Glory +asked some question when she gazed on the picture +which sat in a seeming place of honor at the center of +his room. Her silence on the subject had seemed +casual and unimportant, yet his intuition told him +that had it been genuinely so, she would have demanded +with child-like interest to be told who the +woman might be with the high tilted chin and the rope +of pearls on her throat. The taciturnity had sprung, +he fancied, less from indifference than from a fear +of questioning, and when he came quietly to the door, +he stood there for a moment, then drew back where +he would not be so plainly visible.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></div> +<p>For Glory had returned to the table and stood with +her eyes riveted on the framed portrait. Unconscious +of being observed her face was no longer guarded of +betrayal, and in the swift expressiveness of her delicate +features the man read a gamut and vortex of emotion +as eloquent as words. The jealousy which her +pride sought to veto, the doubt which her faith strove +to deny, the realization of her own self-confessed inferiority +in parallel with this woman’s aristocratic +poise and cynical smile, flitted in succession across the +face of the mountain girl and declared themselves in +her eyes.</p> +<p>For an instant the small hands clenched and the +lips stirred and the pupils blazed with hot fires, so that +the man could almost read the words that she shaped +without sound: “He’s mine—he ain’t your’n—an’ I +ain’t goin’ ter give him up ter ye!”</p> +<p>Spurrier remembered how she had declared she +would almost rather see him die than surrender him to +another girl.</p> +<p>Then out of the face the passion faded and the deep +eyes widened to a suffering like that of despair. The +sweetly curved lips drooped in an ineffable wistfulness +and the smooth throat worked spasmodically, while +the hands went up and covered the face.</p> +<p>Spurrier drew back into the room into which Glory +could not see, and then in warning of his coming +spoke aloud in a matter-of-fact voice. “I’ve found +it,” he declared. “It was hiding out from me—that +watch.”</p> +<p>When, after that preface, he came back, Glory was +standing again in the doorway and as she turned, she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +presented a face from which had been banished the +storm of her recent agitation.</p> +<p>He handed her the watch which she took with a +steady hand, and a brief but cheery, “Farewell.”</p> +<p>As she started away Spurrier braced himself with a +strong effort and inquired: “Glory, didn’t you have +any question to ask me—about the girl—in the +frame?”</p> +<p>She halted in the path and stood looking down. Her +lowered lids hid her eyes, but he thought her cheeks +paled a shade. Then she shook her head.</p> +<p>“Not unless it’s something—you want to tell—without +my asking,” she announced steadfastly.</p> +<p>For over a week he had struggled to bring himself +to his confession and had failed. Now a sudden impulse +assured him that it would never be easier; that +every delay would make it harder and blacken him +with a heavier seeming of treason. Vivien’s portrait +served as a fortuitous cue, and he must avail himself +of it.</p> +<p>This was the logical time and place, when silence +would be only an unuttered lie and when procrastination +would strip him of even his residue of self-respect. +To wait for an easy occasion was to hope for +the impossible and to act with as craven a spirit as +to falter when the bugle sounded a charge.</p> +<p>Yet he remained so long silent that Glory, looking +up and reading the hard-wrung misery on his face and +the stiff movement of the lips that made nothing of +their efforts, knew, in advance, the tenor of the unspoken +message.</p> +<p>She closed her eyes as if to shut out some sudden +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +glare too painful to be borne, and then in a quietly +courageous voice she helped him out.</p> +<p>“You <i>do</i> want to tell me, Jack. You want to take +back—what you said—over there—don’t you?”</p> +<p>Spurrier moistened his lips, with his tongue. “God +knows,” he burst out vehemently, “I don’t want to +take back one syllable of what I said—about loving +you.”</p> +<p>“What is it, then?”</p> +<p>“Come inside, please,” he pleaded. “I’ll try to explain.”</p> +<p>He went stumblingly ahead of her and set a chair +beside the table and then he leaned toward her and +sought for words.</p> +<p>“I love you, Glory,” he fervently declared. “I love +you as I didn’t suppose I could love any one. To me +you are music and starlight—but I guess I’m almost +engaged to her.” He jerked his head rebelliously toward +the portrait.</p> +<p>Glory was numb except for a dull, very present +ache that started in her heart and filled her to her +finger tips, and she made no answer.</p> +<p>“Her father,” Spurrier forced himself on, “is a +great financier. I’m his man. I’m a little cog in a big +machine. It’s been practically understood that I was +to become his son-in-law—his successor. I’m too deep +in, to pull out. It’s like a soldier in the thick of a +campaign. I’ve got to go through.”</p> +<p>That seemed an easier and kinder thing to say than +that she herself was not qualified for full admittance +into the world of his larger life.</p> +<p>“You knew this—the other day—as well as now,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +she reminded him, speaking in a stunned voice, yet +without anger.</p> +<p>“So help me God, Glory—I had forgotten—everything +but—you.”</p> +<p>“And now,” she half whispered in a dulled monotone, +“you remember all the rest.”</p> +<p>She sat there with the basket on the puncheon floor +at her feet, and her fingers twisted themselves tautly +together. Her lips, parted and drooping, gave her +delicate face a stamp of dumb suffering, and Spurrier’s +arms ached to go comfortingly around her, but +he held himself rigid while the silence lengthened. +The old clock on the mantel ticked clamorously and +outside the calls of the bobwhites seemed to grow +louder and nearer until, half-consciously, Spurrier +noted their insistence.</p> +<p>Then faintly, Glory said: “You didn’t make me +any promise. If you had—I’d give it back to you.”</p> +<p>She rose unsteadily and stood gathering her +strength, and Spurrier, struggling against the impulse +which assailed him like a madness to throw down the +whole structure of his past and designed future and +sweep her into his arms, stood with a metal-like rigidity +of posture.</p> +<p>Whatever his ultimate decision might be, he kept +telling himself, no decision reached by surrender to +such tidal emotion at a moment of equinox could be +trusted. Glory herself would not trust it long.</p> +<p>So while the room remained voiceless and the minds +of the man and the girl were rocking in the swirl of +their feelings, the physical senses themselves seemed, +instead of inert, preternaturally keen—and something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +came to Spurrier’s ears which forced its way to his +attention through the barrier of his abstraction.</p> +<p>Never had the calls of the quail been so frequent +and incessant before, but this sound was different, as +though some one in the nearby tangle had stumbled and +in the effort to catch himself had caught and shaken +the leafage.</p> +<p>So the man went to the door and stood looking out.</p> +<p>For a moment he remained there framed and exposed +as if painted upon a target, and—so close that +they seemed to come together—two rifles spoke, and +two bullets came whining into the house. One imbedded +itself with a soggy thud in the squared logs +of the rear wall but one, more viciously directed by +the chances of its course, struck full in the center of +the glass that covered the pictured face of Vivien +Harrison and sent the portrait clattering and shattered +to the floor.</p> +<p>In an instant Spurrier had leaped back, once more +miraculously saved, and slammed the door, but while +he was dropping the stanch bar into its sockets, a crash +of glass and fresh roars from another direction told +him that he was also being fired upon through the +window. That meant that the house was surrounded.</p> +<p>“Who are they, Jack?” gasped the girl, shocked by +that unwarned fusillade into momentary forgetfulness +of everything, except that her lover was beset by +enemies, and the man who was reaching for his rifle, +and whose eyes had hardened into points of flint, +shook his head.</p> +<p>“Whoever they are,” he answered, “they want me—only +me—but it would be death for you to go out +through the door.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></div> +<p>He drew her to a shadowed corner out of line with +both door and window, and seized her passionately in +his arms.</p> +<p>“If we—can’t have each other——” he declared +tensely, “I don’t want life. You said you’d almost +rather see me killed than lose me to another woman. +Now, listen!”</p> +<p>Holding her close to his breast, he drew a deep +breath and his narrowed eyes softened into something +like contentment.</p> +<p>“If you tried to go out first, you’d die before they +recognized you. They think I’m alone here and they’ll +shoot at the first movement. But if <i>I</i> go out first and +fight as long as I can then they’ll be satisfied and the +way will be clear for you.”</p> +<p>She threw back her head and her hysterical laugh +was scornful.</p> +<p>“Clear for me after <i>you’re</i> dead!” she exclaimed. +“Hev ye got two guns? We’ll both go out alive or +else neither one of us.”</p> +<p>Then suddenly she drew away from him, and he +saw her hurriedly scribbling on a scrap of paper. Outside +it was quiet again.</p> +<p>Glory folded the small sheet and took the pigeon +from its basket and then, for the first time, Spurrier, +who had forgotten the bird, divined her intent.</p> +<p>He was busying himself with laying out cartridges, +and preparing for a siege, and when he looked up +again she stood with the bird against her cheek, just +as she had held the dead quail on that first day.</p> +<p>But before he could interfere she had drawn near +the window and he saw that to reach the broken pane +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +and liberate the pigeon she must, for a moment, stand +exposed.</p> +<p>He leaped for her with a shout of warning, but she +had straightened and thrust the bird out, and then to +the accompaniment of a horrible uproar of musketry +that drowned his own outcry he saw her fall back.</p> +<p>Spurrier was instantly on his knees lifting the +drooping head, and as her lids flickered down she +whispered with a pallid smile:</p> +<p>“The bird’s free. He’ll carry word home—if ye kin +jest hold ’em back fer a spell and——”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII' id='CHAPTER_XIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +</div> +<p>The window through whose broken pane Glory +had dispatched her feathered messenger could +not be seen into from the exterior. That was +a temporary handicap for the besiegers and one upon +which, in all their forethought, they had not calculated. +It happened that at this hour of the afternoon +the slanting sun struck blindingly upon the glass that +still remained unbroken and confused the ambushed +eyes that raked the place from advantageous points +along the upper slopes.</p> +<p>So when Glory had risen there for an instant, +against the window itself, the vigilant assassins had +been able to make out only the unidentified shadow of +a figure moving there, and upon that figure, at point-blank +range, they had loosed their volley. Whose figure +it was they could not tell, and since they believed +their intended victim to be alone they did not question. +In the confusion of the instant, with the glare on windowpanes, +they missed the spot of light that rose +phœnixlike as the pigeon took flight. The frightened +bird mounted skyward unnoted and flustered by the +bellowing of so much gunnery.</p> +<p>But Spurrier’s shout of horror was heard by the besiegers +and misinterpreted as a cry wrung from him +under a mortal wound.</p> +<p>The assailants had not seen nor suspected Glory’s approach +because she had come from the front, and had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +arrived before they, drawing in from the rear and +sides, had reached their stations commanding a complete +outlook. They had assumed their victim to be +in solitary possession and now they also assumed him +to be helpless—perhaps already dead.</p> +<p>Yet they waited, following long-revered precepts +of wariness, before going onward across the open +stretch of the dooryard for an ultimate investigation. +He might die slowly—and hard. He might have left +in him enough fight to take a vengeful toll of the oncoming +attackers—and they could afford to make haste +slowly.</p> +<p>So they settled down in their several hiding places +and remained as inconspicuous as grass burrowing +field mice. The forest cathedral which they defiled +seemed lifeless in the hushed stillness of the afternoon +as the sun rode down toward its setting.</p> +<p>John Spurrier, inside the house, living where he was +supposed to be dead, at first made no sound that carried +out to them across the little interval of space.</p> +<p>He was kneeling on the floor with the girl’s head +cradled on his knees and in his throat sounded only +smothering gasps of inarticulate despair. These low +utterances were animal-like and wrung him with the +agonies of heartbreak. He thought that she must have +died just after the whisper and the smile with which +she had announced her success in her effort to save +him.</p> +<p>Kneeling there with the bright head inert on his +corduroy-clad knee, he fancied that the smile still +lingered on her lips even after she had laid down her +life for him five minutes from the time he had forsworn +her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span></div> +<p>Now that she was gone and he about to go, he could +recognize her as a serene and splendid star shining +briefly above the lurid shoddiness of his own grasping +life—and the star had set.</p> +<p>At first a profoundly stunned and torpid feeling +held him numb; a blunt agony of loss and guilt, but +slowly out of that wretched paralysis emerged another +thought. He was helpless to bring her back and that +futility would drive him mad unless out of it could +come some motive of action.</p> +<p>She was not only dead, but dead by the hands of +murderers who had come after him—and all that remained +was the effort to avenge her. Like waters +moving slowly at first but swelling into freshet power, +wrath and insatiable thirst for vengeance swept him +to a sort of madness.</p> +<p>Here he was kneeling over the unstirring woman he +had loved while out there were the murder hirelings +who had brought about the tragedy. Her closed and +unaccusing eyes, exhorting him as passionate utterances +could not have done, incited him to a frenzy. +At least some of these culprits must go unshriven, and +by his own hand to the death that inevitably awaited +himself.</p> +<p>And as Spurrier’s flux of molten emotions seethed +about that determination a solidifying transition came +over him and his brain cleared of the blind spots of +fury into the coherency of a plan.</p> +<p>Out there they would wait for a while to test the +completeness of their success. If he gave way to his +passion and challenged them as inclination clamored +to do, they would dispatch him at leisure.</p> +<p>Just now he was willing enough to die, but entirely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +unwilling to die alone. He craved company and a red +journey for that final crossing. So once more he +looked down into the face on which there was no stir +of animation, then very gently bent and kissed the +quiet lips.</p> +<p>“If you could come back to me,” he chokingly +whispered, “I’d unsay everything, except that I love +you. But if there’s a meeting place beyond, I’ll join +you soon—when I’ve made them pay for you.”</p> +<p>He lifted her tenderly and, through his agitation, +came a sudden realization of how light she was as +he laid her gently on his army cot. After that he +picked up his rifle and bulged out his pockets with +cartridges.</p> +<p>The cockloft above his room, which was reached +by a ladder, had windows which were really only loopholes +and from there he could better see into the +tangle that sheltered his enemies.</p> +<p>He entertained no vain hope of rescue. He asked +for no deliverance. The story drew to its ending and +he meant to cap it with the one climax to which the +last half hour had left anything of significance. Since +small things become vastly portentous when written +into the margin between life and death, he hoped that +before he died he might recognize the face of at least +one of the men whom he meant to take with him +across the River of Eternity.</p> +<p>So, dedicating himself to that motive, he climbed +the ladder.</p> +<p>Peering out through first one and then the other +of the loopholes of the cockloft, he waited, and it +seemed to him that he waited eternally. He began to +fear that his self-sure attackers would content themselves +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +with an inactive vigil and that after all he was to +be cheated.</p> +<p>The sun was westering. The shadows were elongating. +The sounds through the woods were subtly +changing from the voices of day to those of approaching +night.</p> +<p>Still he waited.</p> +<p>Outside also they were waiting; waiting to make +sure that it was safe to go in and confirm their presumption +that he had fallen.</p> +<p>But when Spurrier had, in a little time as the watch +recorded it, served out his purgatorial sentence, he +sensed a stir in the massed banks of the laurel and +thrust his rifle barrel outward in preparation for welcome. +A moment afterward he saw a hat with a +downturned brim—a coat with an upturned collar—a +pair of shoulders that hunched slowly forward with +almost <a name='TC_8'></a><ins title='Was inperceptible'>imperceptible</ins> movement. His mind had become +a calculating machine now, functioning with deliberate +surety.</p> +<p>The unrecognizable figure out there was a hundred +yards away and the rifle he held would bore through +the head under the hat crown at that range as a gimlet +bores through a marked spot on soft pine.</p> +<p>But a single shot would end the show. No one else +would appear and even the dead man would be hauled +back by his heels—unidentified. He would wait until +he could make his bag of game more worth dying for—more +worth <i>her</i> dying for!</p> +<p>Other ages seemed to elapse before the butternut +figure showed stretched at length in the tall grass outside +the thicket and a second hat appeared. Still Spurrier +held his fire until three hats were visible and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +first man, having crawled to a tree trunk, had half +risen.</p> +<p>He realized that he could not much longer hold it. +At any moment they might rush the place in force +of numbers, and from more than one side, smothering +his defense—and once in contact with the walls they +would need only a lighted torch.</p> +<p>So he sighted with target-range precision and fired, +following the initial effort with snap-shots at the second +and third visible heads.</p> +<p>He had the brief satisfaction of seeing the first man +plunge forward, clawing at the earth with hands that +dropped their weapon. He saw the second stumble, +recover himself, stumble again and then start crawling +backward with a disabled, crablike locomotion, while +the third figure turned, unharmed, and ran to cover. +But at the same moment he heard shouts and shots +from the other side which called him instantly to the +opposite loophole and, once there, kept him pumping +his rifle against what appeared to be a charge of confused +figures that he had no leisure to inspect. They, +too, fell back under the vigor of his punishment, and +Spurrier found himself reloading in a silence that had +come as suddenly as the noise of the onrush.</p> +<p>He had shot down two assailants, but both had been +retrieved beyond sight by their confederates, and the +besieged man groaned with a realization of defeated +purpose. The sun was low now and soon it would be +too dark to see. Then the trappers would close in and +take the rat out of the trap. What he failed to do +while daylight lasted, he would never do.</p> +<p>In only one respect did his judgment fail him as he +sought to forecast the immediate future. It seemed to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +him that he had spent hours there in the cockloft, +whereas perhaps thirty minutes had elapsed.</p> +<p>He had been thinking of the pigeon, but had put +aside hope as to succor from that agency. Old Cappeze +was not interested in pigeons. The bird would +go to roost in its dovecote and sit all night with its +head tucked placidly under its wing—and the plea for +help unread on its leg—and the lawyer would never +think of looking into the dovecote.</p> +<p>Now, since he had failed and must die unavenged—for +the wounding of two unidentified enemies failed +of satisfaction—he must utilize what was left of life +intensively. Once more before he died, he wanted to +see the face of the woman whom he had forsworn; +the woman who was worth infinitely more than the +tawdry regards for which he had given her up.</p> +<p>So he went down the ladder and knelt beside the cot.</p> +<p>He laid his ear close to the bosom and could have +sworn that it fluttered to a half heartbeat.</p> +<p>Suddenly Spurrier closed his hands over his face +and for the first time in years he prayed.</p> +<p>“Almighty Father,” he pleaded, “give her back to +me! Give me one other chance—and exact whatever +price Thy wisdom designates.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>To Toby Austin’s meager farm, which abutted on +that of Dyke Cappeze, that afternoon had trudged +Bud Hawkins. In all the mountain region thereabout +his name was well known and any man of whom you +had asked information would have told you that Bud +was “the poorest and the righteousest man that ever +rode circuit.”</p> +<p>For Bud was among other things a preacher. To +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +use his own words, “I farms some, I heals bodies some, +an’ I gospels some.” And in each of his avocations he +followed faithfully the lights of his conscience.</p> +<p>His own farm lay a long way off, and now he was +here as a visitor. This afternoon he fared over to +the house of Dyke Cappeze as was his custom when in +that neighborhood. He regarded Cappeze as a +righteous man and a “wrastler with all evil,” and he +came bearing the greetings of a brotherhood of effort.</p> +<p>The sun was low when he arrived, and the old +lawyer confessed to a mild anxiety because of Glory’s +failure to return before the hour which her clean-cut +regularity fixed as the time of starting the supper +preparations.</p> +<p>“She took a carrier pigeon over to Aunt Erie Toppit’s,” +explained Dyke, “and I looked for her back +before now.”</p> +<p>“I sometimes ’lows, Brother Cappeze,” asserted the +visitor with an enthusiasm of interest, “thet in these +hyar days of sin when God don’t show Hisself in signs +an’ miracles no more, erbout ther clostest thing ter a +miracle we’ve got left, air ther fashion one of them +birds kin go up in ther air from any place ye sots hit +free at an’ foller ther Almighty’s finger pointin’ home.”</p> +<p>Cappeze told him that there was just now only one +pigeon in the dovecote, where the pair belonged, but +that one he offered to show, and idly be led the way +to the place back above the henroosts.</p> +<p>It is, however, difficult for any man to sink his own +absorptions in those of another, and so it fell about +that on the way Cappeze stopped at the barn he was +building and which was not yet quite complete.</p> +<p>“Brother Hawkins,” he said, “as we go along I want +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +to show you the barn I’ve been planning for years—and +at last have nearly realized.”</p> +<p>In the crude, unfinished life of the hills, lean-tos +and even rock ledges are pressed into service as barns, +but the man who has erected an ample and sound structure +for such a purpose, stamps himself as one who +“has things hung up,” which is the mountain equivalent +for wealth.</p> +<p>“That barn,” explained Cappeze, pausing before it +in expansiveness of mood, “is a thing I’ve wanted ever +since I moved over here. A good barn stands for a +farm run without sloven make-shift—and that one +cost me well-nigh as much money as my dwelling +house. I reckon it sounds foolish, but to me that +building means a dream come true after long waiting. +I’ve skimped myself saving to build it, and it’s the +apple of my eye. If I saw harm come to it, I almost +think it would hurt me more than to lose the house I +live in.”</p> +<p>“I reckon no harm won’t come ter hit, Brother Cappeze,” +reassured the other. “Yit hit mout be right +foresighted to insure hit erginst fire an’ tempest.”</p> +<p>“Of course I will—when it’s finished,” said the +other as he led the way inside, and then as he played +guide, he forgot the pigeons and swelled with the pride +of the builder, while time that meant life and death +went by, so that it was quite a space later that they +emerged again and went on to the destination which +had first called them.</p> +<p>But having arrived there, the elder man halted and +his face shadowed to a disturbed perplexity.</p> +<p>“That’s strange,” he murmured. “One pigeon’s +inside—the hen—and there’s the cock <i>trying</i> to get in. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +It’s the bird Glory took with her. It must have +gotten away from her.”</p> +<p>“’Pears like ter me,” volunteered the preacher, +“hit’s got some fashion of paper hitched on ter one +leg. Don’t ye dis’arn hit, Brother Cappeze?”</p> +<p>Cappeze started as his eyes confirmed the suggestion. +Hurriedly he ran up the ladder to the resting +plank where the bird crooned and preened itself, +plainly asking for admittance to its closed place of +habitation. Perhaps his excited manner alarmed the +pigeon, which would alight on Glory’s shoulder without +a qualm, for as the man reached out his hand for +it, it flutteringly eluded him and took again to the air.</p> +<p>But now his curiosity was aroused. Possibly Glory +meant to stay the night at Aunt Erie’s and had sent +him her announcement in this form. He went for +grain and scattered it, and after repeated efforts succeeded +in capturing the messenger.</p> +<p>But when he loosened the paper and read it his +face went abruptly white and from his lips escaped an +excited “Great God!”</p> +<p>He thrust the note into the preacher’s hand and +rushed indoors, emerging after a few minutes with +eyes wildly lit and a rifle in his hands. Bud Hawkins +understood, for he had read in the interval the scribbled +words:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Stopped at Jack Spurrier’s house. It’s surrounded. Men +are shooting at us on all sides.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Dyke Cappeze was the one man to whom Spurrier +had confided both the circumstances of his mysterious +waylaying and the matter of the rattlesnakes and now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +the father was not discounting the peril into which his +daughter had strayed.</p> +<p>“I’m going on ahead, Brother Hawkins,” he announced. +“I want you to send out a general alarm and +to follow me with all the armed men you can round +up.” There he halted in momentary bewilderment. In +that sparsely peopled territory the hurried mustering +of an adequate force on such short order was in itself +almost an impossibility. There were no means of communication. +Abruptly, the old lawyer wheeled and +pointed a thin and quivering index finger toward his +beloved barn.</p> +<p>“There’s just one way,” he declared with stoical +directness. “All my neighbors will come to fight a +fire. I’ve got to set my own barn to get them here!”</p> +<p>Five minutes later the structure sent up its black +massed summons of smoke, shot with vermilion, as +the shingles snapped and showed glowingly against the +black background of vapor, even in the brightness of +the afternoon.</p> +<p>Dyke Cappeze himself was on his way, and the +preacher remaining behind was meeting and dispatching +each hurried arrival. As he did so his voice leaped +as it sometimes leaped in the zealot’s fervor of exhortation, +and he sent the men out into the fight with +rifle and shotgun as trenchantly as he expounded +peace from the pulpit.</p> +<p>When a dozen men had ridden away, scattering +gravel from galloping hoofs, he rode behind the saddle +cantle of the last, for it was not his doctrine to hold +his hand when he sent others into battle. Also he +might be needed there as a minister, a doctor, or both.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></div> +<p>As sunset began to wane to twilight the attackers +who lay circled about Spurrier’s cabin found themselves +growing restive.</p> +<p>And inside John Spurrier was a man reanimated by +the faint signs of life which he had discovered in +Glory.</p> +<p>A pulse still fluttered in her heart, but it throbbed +flickeringly and its life spark was pallid. Every moment +this malevolent pack held its cordon close was +as surely a moment of strangling her faint chance as +if their fingers had been physically gripping her soft +throat. And he could only kneel futilely beside her +and wait!</p> +<p>From his loopholes upstairs he saw once more two +hats and gave their wearers shot for shot, but when +they kept their rifles popping he suspected their purpose +and dashed across the floor in time to send three +rapidly successive bullets into a little group that had +detached itself from the timber on that side and was +creeping toward the house. One crawling body collapsed +and lay sprawling without motion. Two others +ran back crouching low and were lost to sight.</p> +<p>So he swung pendulumlike from side to side, firing +and changing base, and when his second turn brought +him to the window through which he had shot his +man, he saw that the body had already been removed +from sight.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV' id='CHAPTER_XIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +</div> +<p>It was a hopeless game and a grim one. He could +not cover all the defenses long in single-handed +effort, and the best he could hope for was to die +in ample companionship. Now, two men had reached +broad-girthed oaks, halfway between thicket and +house. There they were safe for the next rush.</p> +<p>So this was the end of the matter! Spurrier reloaded +his rifle and went down the ladder. Hastily +he carried Glory into the room at the back and overturned +his heavy table to serve as a final barricade. +He elected to die here when they swarmed the door +from which he could no longer keep them, crowning +the battle with a finale of punishment as they crowded +through the breach.</p> +<p>But the minutes dragged with irksome tension. He +was keyed up now, wire-tight, for the finish, and yet +silence fell again and denied him the relief of action. +To Spurrier it was like a long and cruel delay imposed +upon a man standing blindfolded and noosed on the +scaffold trap. Then the quiet was ripped with a +totally wasteful fusillade, as though every attacker +outside were pumping his gun in a contest of speed +rather than effect.</p> +<p>Spurrier smiled grimly. Let them burn their +powder—he would have his till they massed in front +of his muzzle and the barrier fell.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></div> +<p>“When the barrier fell!” Crouched there behind +the table where he meant to sell his life in that brief +space that seemed long, the words brought with them +the memory of one of the few poems that had ever +meant much to him—and while he awaited death his +mind seized upon the lines—a funeral address in +soliloquy!</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“For the journey is done and the summit attained,</p> +<p class='indent2'>And the barriers fall——”</p> +</div></div> +<p>He strained his ears to his listening and then +through his head ran other verses:</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“I was ever a fighter, so—one fight more,</p> +<p class='indent2'>The best and the last!</p> +<p>I would hate that Death bandaged my eyes and forebore</p> +<p class='indent2'>And bade me creep past——”</p> +</div></div> +<p>Was that a battering-ram against timber that he +heard? He fingered the trigger.</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“Then a light, then thy breast,</p> +<p class='indent2'>O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,</p> +<p>And with God be the rest!”</p> +</div></div> +<p>But the door did not fall. The rifle cracking became +interspersed with alarmed outcries of warning +and confusion. He could even hear the brush torn +with the hurried tramping of running feet, and then +the pandemonium abruptly stopped dead, and after +a long period of inheld breath there followed a loud +rapping on the door and a voice of agonized anxiety +shouted:</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></div> +<p>“In God’s name open if ye’re still alive. It’s Cappeze—and +friends!”</p> +<p>The psychological effect of that recognized voice +upon John Spurrier, and of its incredible meaning, +was strange to the point of grotesquerie. Its sound +carried a complete reversal of everything to which his +mind had been focussed with a tensity which had +keyed itself to the acceptance of a violent death, and +with the reversal came reaction. There was no interim +of preparation for the altered aspect of affairs. It +was precisely as though a runaway train furiously +speeding to the overhang of an unbridged chasm had +suddenly begun dashing in the contrary direction with +no shade of lessening velocity, and no grinding of +breaks to a halt between time.</p> +<p>Spurrier had taken no thought of physical strain. +He had not known that he was wearied with nerve +wrack and pell-mell dashing from firing point to firing +point. He knew nothing of the picture he made with +clothing torn from his scrambling rushes up-ladder +and down-ladder and his crouching and shifting +among the rough nail-studded spaces of the cockloft. +Of the face, sweat-reeking and dust-smeared, he had +no realization, but when that voice called out and +he knew that rescuers were clamoring where assassins +had laid siege, the stout knees under him buckled +weakly, and the fingers that had fitted his rifle as +steadily as part of its own metallic mechanism became +so inert that they could scarcely maintain their grip +upon the weapon.</p> +<p>John Spurrier, emotionally stirred and agitated as +he had never been in battle, because of the limp figure +that lay under that roof, stood gulping and struggling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +for a lost voice with which to give back a reply. He +rocked on his feet and then, like a drunken man went +slowly and unsteadily forward to lift the bar of the +door.</p> +<p>When he had thrown it wide the rush of anxious +men halted, backing up instinctively, as their eyes were +confused by the inner murk and their nostrils assailed +by the acrid stench of nitrate, from the vapors of +burnt powder that hung stiflingly between the walls +and ceiling rafters. Old Cappeze was at their front +and when he saw before him the battle begrimed +and drawn visage of the man, he looked wildly beyond +it for the other face that he did not see, and his +voice broke and rose in a high, thin note that was +almost falsetto as he demanded: “Where is she? +Where’s Glory?”</p> +<p>John Spurrier sought to speak but the best he could +do was to indicate with a gesture half appealing and +half despairing to the door of the other room, where +she lay on his army cot. The father crossed its threshold +ahead of him and dropped to his knees there with +agonized eyes, and Bud Hawkins, the preacher and +physician, not sure yet in which capacity he must act, +was bent at his shoulder, while Spurrier exhorted him +with a recovered but tortured voice, “In God’s name, +make haste. There’s only a spark of life left.”</p> +<p>From the crowd which had followed and stood +massed about the door came a low but unmistakable +smother of fury, as they saw the unmoving figure of +the girl, and those at the edge wheeled and ran outward +again with the summary resoluteness that one +sees in hounds cast off at the start of the chase.</p> +<p>Upon those who remained Brother Hawkins +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +wheeled and swept out his hands in a gesture of imperative +dismissal.</p> +<p>“Leave us alone, men,” he commanded. “I needs +ter work alone hyar—with ther holp of Almighty +God.”</p> +<p>But he worked kneeling, tearing away the clothing +over the wounded breast, and while he did so he +prayed with a fervor that was fiercely elemental, yet +abating no whit of his doctor’s efficiency with his surprisingly +deft hands, while his lips and heart were +those of the religionist.</p> +<p>“Almighty Father in Heaven,” he pleaded, “spare +this hyar child of Thine ef so be Thy wisdom suffers +hit.”</p> +<p>There he broke off and as though a different man +were speaking, shot over his shoulder the curt command: +“Fotch me water speedily—Because Almighty +Father, she’s done fell a victim of evil men thet fears +Thee not in th’ar hearts!”</p> +<p>After a little Brother Hawkins dismissed even the +father and Spurrier from the room and worked on +alone, the voice of his praying sounding over his +activity.</p> +<p>Ten minutes later, in a crowded room, Bud Hawkins, +preacher and physician, laid one hand on Spurrier’s +shoulder and the other on Cappeze’s.</p> +<p>“Men,” he said in a hushed voice, “I fears me ther +shot thet hit her was a deadener. Yit I kain’t quite +fathom hit nuther. She’s back in her rightful senses +ergin—but she don’t seem ter <i>want</i> to live, somehow. +She won’t put for’ard no effort.”</p> +<p>Spurrier wheeled to face them both and his voice +came with tense, gasping earnestness.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span></div> +<p>“Before she dies, Brother Hawkins,” he pleaded, +“you’re a minister of the gospel—I want you to marry +us.” He wheeled then on the rescuers, who stood +breathing heavily from exertion and fight.</p> +<p>“Two of you men stay here as wedding witnesses,” +he commanded. “One of you ride hell-for-leather to +the nearest telephone and call up Lexington. Have +a man start with bloodhounds on a special train. The +rest of you get into the timber and finecomb it for +some scrap of cloth—or anything that will give the +dogs a chance when they get here.”</p> +<p>Once more Spurrier was the officer in command, +and snappily his hearers sprang to obedience, but when +the place had almost emptied, the three turned and +went into the back room, and, kneeling there beside +the wounded girl, Spurrier whispered:</p> +<p>“Dearest, the preacher has come—to wed us.”</p> +<p>Glory’s eyes with their deeps of color were startlingly +vivid as they looked out of the pallid face upon +which a little while ago John Spurrier had believed the +white stamp of death to be fixed.</p> +<p>The features themselves, except the eyes, seemed to +have shrunken from weakness into wistful smallness, +and if the girl had returned, in the phrases of the +preacher, “to her rightful senses” it had been as one +coming out of a dream who realizes that she wakes to +heartburnings which death had promised to smooth +away.</p> +<p>Now, as the man stretched out his hand to take +hers and drew a ring from his own little finger, the +violet eyes on the rough pillow became transfigured +with a luminous and incredulous happiness. But at +once they clouded again with gravity and pain.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></div> +<p>Spurrier was offering to marry her out of pity and +gratitude. He was seeking to pay a debt, and his +authoritative words were spoken from his conscience +and not from his heart.</p> +<p>So the lips stirred in an effort to speak, failed in +that and drooped, and weakly but with determination +Glory shook her head. She had been willing to die for +him. She could not argue with him, but neither would +she accept the perfunctory amends that he now came +proffering.</p> +<p>Spurrier rose, pale, and with a tremor of voice as +he said to the others: “Please leave us alone—for a +few moments.” Then when no one was left in the +room but the girl on the bed and the man on his +knees beside it, he bent forward until his eyes were +close to hers and his words came with a still intensity.</p> +<p>“Glory, dearest, though I don’t deserve it, you’ve +confessed that you love me. Now I claim the life you +were willing to lay down for me—and you can’t +refuse.”</p> +<p>There was wistfulness in her smile, but through her +feebleness her resolution stood fast and the movement +of her head was meant for a shake of refusal.</p> +<p>“But why, dear,” he argued desperately, “why do +you deny me when we know there’s only one wish in +both our hearts?”</p> +<p>His hands had stolen over one of hers and her +weak fingers stirred caressingly against his own. Her +lips stirred too, without sound, then she lay in a deathlike +quiet for a moment or two summoning strength +for an effort at speech, and he, bending close, caught +the ghost of a whisper.</p> +<p>“I don’t seek payment ... fer what I done.” A +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +gasp caught her breath and silenced her for a little +but she overcame it and finished almost inaudibly. +“It was ... a free-will gift.”</p> +<p>John Spurrier rose and sat on the side of the bed. +His voice was electrified by the thrill of his feeling; +a feeling purged of all artificiality by the rough +shoulder touch of death.</p> +<p>“I’m asking another gift, now, Glory; the greatest +gift of all. I’m asking yourself. Don’t try to talk—only +listen to me because I need you desperately. Except +for you they would have killed me to-day—but +my life’s not worth saving if I lose you after all. +I’m two men, dearest, rolled into one—and one of +those men perhaps doesn’t deserve much consideration, +but there’s some good in the other and that good can’t +prevail without you any more than a plant can grow +without sun.”</p> +<p>With full realization, he was pitching his whole +argument to the note of his own selfish needs and +wishes, and yet he was guided by a sure insight into +her heart. Brother Hawkins had said she had no +wish to live and would make no fight, and he knew +that he might plead endlessly and in vain unless he +overcame her belief that he was actuated merely by +pity for her. If she could be convinced that it was +genuinely he who needed her more than she needed +him, her woman quality of enveloping in supporting +love the man who leaned on her, would bring consent.</p> +<p>“I sought to strengthen myself for success in life,” +he went on, “by strangling out every human emotion +that stood in the way of material results. I serve men +who sneer at everything on God’s earth except the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +practical, and I had come to the point where I let those +men shape me and govern even my character.”</p> +<p>She had been listening with lowered lids and as he +paused, she raised them and smiled wanly, yet without +any sign of yielding to his supplications.</p> +<p>“The picture that you saw,” he swept on torrentially, +“was that of a girl whose father employs me. He’s a +leader in big affairs and to be his son-in-law meant, +in a business sense, to be raised to royalty. Vivien +is a splendid woman and yet I doubt if either of us +has——” he fumbled a bit for his next words and then +floundered on with self-conscious awkwardness, “has +thought of the other with real sentiment. Until now, +I haven’t known what real sentiment meant. Until +now I haven’t appreciated the true values. I discovered +them out there in the road when you came +into my arms—and into my heart. From now on my +arms will always ache for you—and my heart will be +empty without you.’”</p> +<p>“But—,” Glory’s eyes were deeper than ever as she +whispered laboriously, “but if you’re plighted to +her——”</p> +<p>“I’m not,” he protested hotly. “There is no engagement +except a sort of understanding with her +father: a sort of condescending and tacit willingness +on his part to let his successor be his son-in-law as +well.”</p> +<p>She lay for a space with the heavy masses of her +hair on the rough pillow framing the pale and exquisite +oval of her face, and her vivid eyes troubled +with the longing to be convinced. Then her lips +shaped themselves in a rather pitiful smile that lifted +them only at one corner.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div> +<p>“Maybe ye don’t ... know it Jack,” she murmured, +“but ye’re jest seekin’ ... ter let me ... +die ... easy in my mind ... and happy.”</p> +<p>“Before God I am <i>not</i>,” he vehemently contradicted +her. “I’m not trying to give but to take. +Whether you get well or not, Glory, I want to fight +for your life and your love. We’ve faced death, together. +We’ve seen things nakedly—together. For +neither of us can there ever be any true life—except +together.”</p> +<p>His breath was coming with the swift intensity that +was almost a sob and, in the eyes that bent over her, +Glory read the hunger that could not be counterfeited.</p> +<p>“Anyhow,” she faltered, “we’ve had—this minute.”</p> +<p>Spurrier rose at last and called the others back. +He himself did not know when once more he took her +hand and the preacher stood over them, whether her +responses to the services would be affirmative or negative.</p> +<p>To Spurrier marriage had always seemed an opportunity. +It was a thing in which an ambitious man +could no more afford yielding to uncalculating impulses +than in the forming of a major business connection. +Marriage must carry a man upward toward the +peak of his destiny, and his wife must bring as her +dowry, social reënforcements and distinction.</p> +<p>Now, in the darkening room of a log house, with +figures clad in patches and hodden-gray, he held the +hand that was too weak to close responsively upon his +own, and listened to the words of a shaggy-headed +preacher, whose beard was a stubble and whose lips +moved over yellow and fanglike teeth.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></div> +<p>Confusedly he heard the questions and his own firm +responses to the simple service of marriage as rendered +by the backwoods preacher, then his heart +seemed to stop and stand as the words were uttered +to which Glory must make her answer.</p> +<p>“Will you, Glory, have this man, John Spurrier——”</p> +<p>What would her answer be—assent or negation?</p> +<p>The pause seemed to last interminably as he bent +with supplication in his glance over her, and the breath +came from his lips with an unconscious sibilance, like +escaping steam from a strained boiler, when at last +the head on the pillow gave the ghost of a nod.</p> +<p>Even at that moment there lurked in the back of +his mind, though not admitted as important, the ghost +of realization that he was doing precisely the sort of +thing which, in his own world, would not only unclass +him but make him appear ludicrous as well.</p> +<p>As for that world of lifted eye-brows he felt just +now only a withering contempt and a scalding hatred.</p> +<p>Almost as soon as the simple ceremony ended, +Glory sank again into unconsciousness, and the father +and preacher, sitting silent in the next room, were unable +to forget that though there had been a wedding, +they were also awaiting the coming of death.</p> +<p>The night fell with the soft brightness of moon and +stars, and through the tangled woods the searchers +were following hard on the flight of the assailants—doggedly +and grimly, with the burning indignation of +men bent on vindicating the good name of their people +and community. Yet, so far, the fugitive squad +had succeeded not only in eluding capture or recognition, +but also in carrying with them their wounded.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></div> +<p>From Lexington, where Spurrier had formed +strong connections, a deputy sheriff was riding in a +caboose behind a special engine as fast as the roadbeds +would permit. The smokestack trailed a flat line +of hurrying smoke and the whistle screamed startlingly +through the night. At the officer’s knees, gazing +up at him out of gentle eyes that belied their +profession, crouched two tawny dogs with long ears—the +bloodhounds that were to start from the cabin +and give voice in the laurel.</p> +<p>Waiting for them was a torn scrap of blue denim +such as rough overalls are made of. It had been found +in a brier patch where some fleeing wearer had snarled +himself.</p> +<p>Yet two days later the deputy returned from his +quest in the timber, shaking his head.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry,” he reported. “I’ve done my best, but +it’s not been good enough.”</p> +<p>“What’s the trouble?” inquired Cappeze shortly, +and the officer answered regretfully:</p> +<p>“This country is zigzagged and criss-crossed with +watercourses—and water throws the dogs off. The +fugitives probably made their way by wading wherever +they could. The longest run we made was up +toward Wolf Pen Branch.”</p> +<p>That was the direction, Spurrier silently reflected, +of Sim Colby’s house, but he made no comment.</p> +<p>Brother Hawkins, who was leaving that afternoon, +laid a kindly hand on Spurrier’s shoulder.</p> +<p>“Thet’s bad news,” he said. “But I kin give ye better. +I kin almost give ye my gorrantee thet ther +gal’s goin’ ter come through. Hit’s <i>wantin’</i> ter live +thet does hit.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></div> +<p>Spurrier’s eyes brightened out of the misery that +had dulled them, and as to the failure of the chase he +reassured himself with the thought that the dogs had +started toward Sim Colby’s house, and that he himself +could finish what they had begun.</p> +<p>Those tawny beasts had coursed at the behest of a +master who was bound by the limitations of the law, +but he, John Spurrier, was his own master and could +deal less formally and more condignly with an enemy +to whom suspicion pointed—and there was time +enough.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV' id='CHAPTER_XV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +</div> +<p>And yet on that day when the bobwhites had +sounded and the blow had fallen, Sim Colby +was nowhere near the opportunity hound’s +house. He sat tippling in a mining town two days’ +journey away, and he had no knowledge of what went +on at home. His companion was ex-Private Severance—once +his comrade in arms.</p> +<p>The town was one of those places which discredit +the march of industry by the mongrelized character +of its outposts. The wild aloofness of the hills and +valleys was marred there by the shacks of the camp +and its sky soiled by a black reek of coke furnaces.</p> +<p>Filth physical and moral brooded along the unkempt +streets where the foul buzz of swarming flies +sounded over refuse piles, and that spirit of degradation +lay no less upon the unclean tavern, where the +two men who had once worn the uniform sat with a +bottle of cheap whisky between them.</p> +<p>Colby, who had need to maintain his reputation for +probity at home, made an occasional pilgrimage hither +to foregather with his former comrade and loosen the +galling rein of restraint. Just about the time when +the attack on Spurrier’s house had begun, he had +leaned forward with his elbows on the table, his face +heavy and his eyes inflamed, pursuing some topic of +conversation which had already gained headway.</p> +<p>“These hyar fellers that seeks ter git rid of Spurrier,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +he confided, “kinderly hinted ’round thet they’d +like ter git me ter do ther job for ’em, but I pretended +like I didn’t onderstand what they war drivin’ at, no +fashion at all.”</p> +<p>“Why didn’t ye hearken ter ’em?” questioned Severance +practically. “Hit hain’t every day a man kin git +paid fer doin’ what he seeks ter do on his own hook.”</p> +<p>But Colby grinned with a crafty gleam in his eye +and poured another drink.</p> +<p>“What fer would I risk ther penitenshery ter do a +killin’ fer them fellers when, ef I jest sets still on my +hunkers they’ll do <i>mine</i> fer me,” he countered.</p> +<p>For a time after that whatever enemies Spurrier +had seemed to have lost their spirit of eagerness. One +might have presumed that to the rule of amity which +apparently surrounded him, there was no exception—and +so the mystery remained unsolved. Even blind +Joe Givins made a detour in a journey to stop at Spurrier’s +house and sing a ballad of his own composition +anent the mysterious siege and to express his indignation +at the “pizen meanness” of men who would father +and carry forward such infamies.</p> +<p>And Glory, who had penetrated so deeply into the +shadow that life had seemed ended for her, was recovering. +Into her pale cheeks came a new blossoming +and into the smile of her lips and eyes a new light +that was serene and triumphant. She had been too +happy to die.</p> +<p>While the summer waned and the beauties of autumn +began to kindle, the young wife grew strong, and +her husband, seemingly, had nothing to do except to +wander about the hills with her and discover in her +new charms. Neighborly saws and hammers were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +ringing now as his place was transformed from its +simple condition to the “hugest log house on seven +creeks.”</p> +<p>In some respects he wished that his factitious indolence +were real, for he felt no pride in the occult fashion +in which he was directing the activities of his +henchmen. And yet a few months ago this progress +would have been food for satisfaction—almost +triumph.</p> +<p>His plans, as outlined to Martin Harrison were by +no means at a standstill. They were going forward +with an adroit drawing in and knitting together of +scattered strands, and the warp and woof of this +weaving were coming into definite order and pattern.</p> +<p>The dual necessity was: first to slip through a legislature +which was supposedly under the domination of +American Oil and Gas, a charter which should wrest +from that concern the sweet fruits of monopoly, and +secondly, to secure at paltry prices the land options +that would give the prospective pipe line its right of +way.</p> +<p>As this campaign had been originally mapped and +devised it had not been simple, but now it was complicated +by a new and difficult element. In those first +dreams of conquest the native had been no more considered +than the red Indian was considered in the +minds of the new world settlers. Spurrier himself +had brushed lightly aside this aspect of the affair. +Every game has and must have its “suckers.” And +their sorry destiny it is to be despoiled. Now the very +term that he had used in his thoughts, brought with +it an amendment. It is not every game that must have +its suckers but every bunco game.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></div> +<p>Martin Harrison did not know it, but his lieutenant +had redrawn his plans, and redrawn them in a +fashion which the chief would have regarded as insubordinate, +impractical and sentimental.</p> +<p>Spurrier intended that when the smoke cleared +from the field upon which the forces of Harrison and +those of Trabue had been embattled, the Harrison +banners should be victoriously afloat and the Trabue +standards dust trailed. But also he intended that the +native land-holders, upon whom both combatants had +looked as mere unfortunate onlookers raked by the +cross fire of opposing artillery, should emerge as real +and substantial gainers.</p> +<p>Of late the man had not escaped the penalty of one +who faces responsibility and wields power. He had +abandoned as puerile his first impulse, after his marriage, +to throw up his whole stewardship to the Wall +Street masters. That would have amounted only to +an ostentation of virtue which would have surrendered +the situation into the merciless hands of A. O. +and G., and would have left the mountain folk unprotected.</p> +<p>Yet he could not escape the realization that he +would stand with all the seeming of a traitor and a +plunderer to any of his simple friends who learned +of his activities—for as yet he could confide to no one +the plans he was maturing.</p> +<p>It was when the refurnished and enlarged place had +been completed that the neighbors came from valley, +slope, and cove to give their blessing at the housewarming +which was also, belatedly, the “infaring.”</p> +<p>That homely, pioneer observance with which the +groom brings home his bride, had not been possible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +after the wedding, but now Aunt Erie Toppitt had +come over and prepared entertainment on a lavish if +homely scale since Glory was not yet well.</p> +<p>To the husband as he stood greeting the guests who +arrived in jeans and hodden-gray, in bright shawls and +calicoes, came the feeling of contrast and unreality, +as though this were all part of some play quaintly and +exaggeratedly staged to reflect a medieval period. In +the drawing rooms of Martin Harrison and his confreres +he had moved through a social atmosphere, +quiet, contained, and reflecting such a life as the +dramatist uses for background in a comedy of manners. +Closing his eyes now he could see himself as +he had been when, starting out for such an entertainment, +he had paused before the cheval glass in his +club bedroom, adding a straightening touch to his +white tie, adjusting the set of his waistcoat and casting +a critical eye over the impeccable black and white +of his evening dress. Here, flannel shirted and booted, +corduroy breeched and tanned brown, he stood by the +door watching the arrival of guests who seemed to +have stepped out of pioneer America or Elizabethan +England. There were women riding mules or tramping +long roads on foot and trailing processions of +children who could not be left at home; men feeling +overdressed and uncomfortable because they had +donned coats and brushed their hats; even wagons +plodding slowly behind yokes of oxen and one man +riding a steer in lieu of a horse!</p> +<p>So they came to give Godspeed to his marriage—and +they were the only people on God’s green earth +who thought of him in any terms of regard save that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +regard which sprung from self-interest in his ability +to serve beyond others!</p> +<p>Men who were blood enemies met here as friends, +because his roof covered a zone of common friendship +and under its protection their hatreds could no +more intrude on such a day than could pursuit in the +Middle Ages follow beyond the sanctuary gates of a +cathedral. Inside sounded the minors of the native +fiddlers and the scrape of feet “running the sets” of +quaint square dances.</p> +<p>The labors of preparation had been onerous. Aunt +Erie stood at the open door constituting, with Spurrier +and his wife, a “receiving line” of three, and her +wrinkled old face bore an affectation of morose exhaustion +as to each guest she made the same declaration:</p> +<p>“I hopes an’ prays ye all enjoys this hyar party—Gawd +knows <i>my</i> back’s broke.”</p> +<p>But Spurrier had not in his letters to Harrison mentioned +his marriage, and to Vivien he had not written +at all. He thought they would hardly understand, +and he preferred to make his announcement when he +stood face to face with them, relying on the force +of his own personality to challenge any criticism and +proclaim his own independence of action. Just now +there was no virtue in needlessly antagonizing his +chief.</p> +<p>Among the guests who came to that housewarming +was one chance visitor who was not expected. He +came because the people under whose roof he was +being sheltered, had “fetched him along,” and he was +Wharton, the man whose purpose hereabouts had set +gossip winging aforetime.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></div> +<p>It seemed to some of the local visitors that despite +his entire courtesy, Spurrier did not evince any profound +liking for this other “furriner,” and since they +had come to accept their host as a trustworthy oracle, +they took the tip and were prepared to dislike Wharton, +too.</p> +<p>That evening, while blind Joe Givins fiddled, and +dancers “ran their sets” on the smooth, new floor, a +group of men gathered on the porch outside and +smoked. Among them for a time were both Spurrier +and Wharton.</p> +<p>The latter raised something of a laugh when he +confidently predicted that the oil prosperity, for all +its former collapse and present paralysis, was not +permanently dead.</p> +<p>“The world needs oil and there’s oil here,” he declared +with unctuous conviction. “Men who are willing +to gamble on that proposition will win out in the +end.”</p> +<p>“Stranger,” responded Uncle Jimmy Litchfield, taking +his pipestem from between his teeth and spitting +contemptuously at the earth, “ye sees, settin’ right +hyar before ye a man that ’lowed he was a millionaire +one time, ’count of this hyar same oil ye’re discoursin’ +so hopeful about. Thet man’s me. I’d been dirt-pore +all my days, oftentimes hurtin’ fer ther plum’ needcessities +of life. I’m mighty nigh thet pore still.”</p> +<p>“Did you strike oil in the boom days?” demanded +Wharton as he bent eagerly forward.</p> +<p>“I owned me a farm, them days, on t’other side ther +mounting,” went on the narrator, “an’ them oil men +came along an’ wanted ter buy ther rights offen me.”</p> +<p>“Did you sell?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></div> +<p>Uncle Billy chuckled. “They up an’ offered me a +royalty of one-eighth of ther whole production. They +proved hit up ter me by ’rithmetic an’ algebry how hit +would make me rich over an’ above all avarice—but +I said no, I wouldn’t take no eighth. I stud out fer a +<i>sixteenth</i> by crickety!”</p> +<p>Both Spurrier and Wharton smothered their laughter +as the latter inquired gravely: <a name='TC_9'></a><ins title='Guessed at missing text'>“Did they play one</ins> +of them royalty games.”</p> +<p>“They done better’n thet. They said, ‘We’ll give ye +two sixteenths,’ an’ thet’s when I ’lowed I was es good +es a Pierpont Morgan. I wouldn’t nuver hurt fer no +needcessity no more.”</p> +<p>“And what was the outcome of it all?” asked Wharton.</p> +<p>Uncle Jimmy’s face darkened. “The come-uppance +of ther whole blame business war thet a lot of pore +devils what hed done been content with poverty found +hit twice as hard ter go on bein’ pore because they’d +got to entertainin’ crazy dreams ther same as me. +Any man thet talks oil ter me now’s got ter buy outright +an’ pay me spot cash. I ain’t playin’ no more +of them royalty <a name='TC_10'></a><ins title="Was single quote">games.”</ins></p> +<p>“That’s fair enough,” said Wharton. “But it seems +to me that you people are taking the wrong tack. Because +the boom collapsed once, you are shutting the +door against the possibility of its coming again—and +it’s going to come again.”</p> +<p>“A man kin git stung once,” volunteered another +native, “an’ hit’s jest tough luck or bewitchment. Ef +he gits stung twicet on ther same trumpery, he ain’t +no more then a plum’, daft fool.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span></div> +<p>Wharton lighted a fresh cigar and turned toward +Spurrier.</p> +<p>“Mr. Spurrier here, is a man you all know and +trust——” he hazarded. “I understand that he’s seen +oil fields in the West and Mexico. I wonder what he +thinks about it all.”</p> +<p>On the dark porch Spurrier looked at his visitor for +a few minutes in silence and his first reply was a quiet +question.</p> +<p>“Did I tell you I’d seen oil fields in operation?” he +inquired, and Wharton stammered a little.</p> +<p>“I was under that impression,” he said. “Possibly +I am wrong.”</p> +<p>“No—you are right enough,” answered the other +evenly. “I just didn’t remember mentioning it. What +is your question exactly?”</p> +<p>“If I have a hunch that oil holds a future here and +am willing to back that hunch, don’t you think I am +acting wisely to do it?”</p> +<p>The host sat silent while he seemed to weigh the +question with judicial deliberation, and during the +pause he realized that the little group of men were +waiting intently for his utterance as for the voice of +the Delphic oracle.</p> +<p>“I have seen oil operation and oil development,” he +said at last. “I have lived here for some time and +know the history of the former boom, but I have not +bought a foot of ground. That ought to make my +opinion clear.”</p> +<p>“Then you don’t believe in the future?”</p> +<p>“Don’t you think, Mr. Wharton,” inquired Spurrier +coolly and, his listeners thought, with a shaded note +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +of contempt, “that what I’ve already said, answers +your question? If I <i>did</i> believe in it, wouldn’t I be +likely to seek investment at the present stage of land +prices?”</p> +<p>John Spurrier was glad that it was dark out there. +He knew that the mountain men awaited his judgment +as something carrying the sanction of finality and he +felt like a Judas. He himself knew that back of his +seeming betrayal was a determination to safeguard +their rights, but the whole game of maneuvering and +dissembling was as impossible to play proudly as it +would have been to undertake the duties of a spy.</p> +<p>“I’ll admit,” observed Wharton modestly, “that if I +lost some money, it wouldn’t break me—and I’m a +stubborn man when I get a hunch. Well, I’m going +in to watch them dance.”</p> +<p>He rose and went indoors and Uncle Jimmy, when +he put a question acted, in effect, as spokesman for +them all.</p> +<p>“What does ye think of thet feller, Mr. Spurrier?”</p> +<p>“I think,” said the opportunity hound crisply, “that +he’s a fool, and Scripture says, ‘a fool and his money +are soon parted.’”</p> +<p>“An’ ef he seeks ter buy?”</p> +<p>“Sell—by all means—if the price is right!”</p> +<p>The next day when they were alone Glory said:</p> +<p>“I don’t like that man Wharton. He’s got sneaky +eyes.”</p> +<p>Her husband laughed. “I can’t say that he struck +me pleasantly,” he admitted. “We talked oil out on +the porch. He was the optimist and I the pessimist.”</p> +<p>And it was to happen that the first rift in Glory’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +lute of happiness was to come out of Wharton’s +agency, though she did not recognize it as his.</p> +<p>For in these times, despite a happiness that made +her sing through the days, something like the panic +of stage fright was settling over her: a thing yet of +the future, but some day to be faced.</p> +<p>So long as life ran quietly, like the shaded streams +that went down until they made the rivers of the +greater and outer world, she was confident mistress of +her life and had no forebodings. Spurrier loved her +and she worshiped him—but out there beyond the +ridges, the activities of his larger life were calling—or +would call. Then they must leave here and she +began to dread the thousand little mistakes and the +humiliations that might come to him because of her +unfamiliarity with that life. Since the bearings of +achievement are delicate, she even feared that she +might throw out of gear and poise the whole machinery +of his success, and in secret Glory was poring over +absurd books on etiquette and deportment. That these +stereotyped instructions would only hamper her own +naturally plastic spirit, she did not know when she +read and reread chapters headed, “How to Enter a +Drawing-room” and “Hints upon Refined Conversation.”</p> +<p>That Spurrier would suggest going without her to +any field into which his work called him, she did not +dream. That he would leave her to wait for him +here, as the companion only of his backwoods hours, +her pride never contemplated.</p> +<p>Yet in the fall Spurrier did just that thing, and to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +the letter which induced its doing was signed the name +of George Wharton. The latter wrote:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“We must begin to lay out lines for work with the next +legislature. There are people in Louisville and Lexington +whom you should meet and talk with. I think you had +better make your headquarters at one of the Louisville clubs, +and when you get here I will put you in touch with the +proper bearings.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>That much might have puzzled any of the mountaineers +who had taken their own cues from Spurrier’s +thinly concealed manner of hostility to Wharton, +but the last part of the letter would have explained +that, too:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“The little game down at your house was nothing short +of masterly. Your acting was superb, and though you were +the star, I think I may claim to have played up to you well. +The device of gaining their confidence so that, of their own +accord, they turned to you for counsel—and then seeming +to gloom on me when I talked oil, was pretty subtle. I +could openly preach buying and instead of turning away +from me in suspicion, they fell on me for a sucker. I—and +others acting for me—have, as the result, secured a good +part of the options we need—and you appear to be of all +men, the least interested.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Spurrier read the thing twice, then crushed it savagely +in his clenched hand and cursed under his +breath. “The damned jackals,” he muttered. “That’s +the pack I’m running with—or rather I’m running +with them and against them at once.”</p> +<p>But when Spurrier had kissed Glory good-by and +she had waved a smiling farewell, she turned back +into her house and covered her face with her hands.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></div> +<p>“I don’t want to believe it,” she declared. “I won’t +believe it—but it looks like he’s ashamed to take me +with him. Not that I blame him—only—only I’ve +got to make myself over. He’s <i>got</i> to be proud of +me!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI' id='CHAPTER_XVI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +</div> +<p>When he came back for a short stay in the +hills between periods of quiet but strenuous +affairs in Louisville, he brought gifts that delighted +Glory and a devotion that made her forget her +misgivings. She had him back, and he found the +house expressing in many small ways a taste and discrimination +which brought to him a flush of pleasurable +surprise. Glory knew the menace that hung over +Spurrier. She knew of the malevolent and elusive +enmities to which her own life had so nearly become +forfeit, and the old terror of the mountain woman for +her man became the cross that she must carry with +her. Because of her militant father’s antagonisms +she had been inured from childhood to the taut moment +of suspense that came with every voice raised at +the gate and every knock sounding on the door.</p> +<p>There was an element of possible threat in each +arrival. She had become, as one has need to be, under +such circumstances, somewhat fatalistic as to the old +dangers. Now that the fear embraced her husband as +well as her father, the philosophy which she had cultivated +failed her. Yet their happiness was so strong +that it threw off these things and drew upon the +treasury of the present.</p> +<p>Spurrier, who talked little of his own dangers, was +far from forgetting. His suspicion of Colby strengthened, +and he looked forward to the day as inevitable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +when there must be a reckoning between them, which +would not be a final reckoning unless one of them +died, and for that encounter he went grimly prepared.</p> +<p>One thing puzzled him. Of Sim Colby he had +thought as a somewhat solitary character, whose relations +with his neighbors, though amicable, were yet +rather detached. He had seemed to have few intimates, +yet if he had led this attack, he was palpably +able to muster at his back a considerable force of +men for a desperate project. That meant that the infection +of hatred against himself had spread from a +single enmity to the number, at least, of the men who +had joined in the battle, and it had been a battle in +which more than one had fallen. Before, he had +recognized a single enemy. Henceforth he must acknowledge +plural enmities.</p> +<p>And along that line of reasoning the next step followed +logically.</p> +<p>Who would suggest himself as so natural a leader +for a murder enterprise as Sam Mosebury, whose +record was established in such matters? Certainly if +this suspicion were well-founded it would be safest to +know.</p> +<p>Spurrier, despite all he had heard of Sam Mosebury, +was reluctant to entertain the thought. The +man might be, as Cappeze painted him, the head and +front of an infamously vicious system, yet there was +something engaging and likable about him, which +made it hard to believe that for hire or any motive +not nearly personal he would have conspired to do +murder.</p> +<p>So among the many claims upon Spurrier’s attention +was the effort to find out where Sam Mosebury +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +stood, and it was while he was thinking of that problem +that he encountered the object of his thoughts in +person. The spot was one distant from his own house. +Indeed it was near Colby’s cabin—still apparently +empty—that the meeting took place.</p> +<p>The opportunity hound had made several trips over +there of late, because he required to know something +of Colby’s activities, and, of course, when he came +he observed a surreptitious caution which sought to +guard against any hint leaking through to Colby of his +own surveillance. He firmly believed that Sim was +“hiding out,” and that despite the seeming emptiness +of his habitation he was not far away.</p> +<p>So it was Spurrier, the law-abiding man, who was +skulking in the laurel while the notorious Mosebury +walked the highway “upstanding” and openly—and +the man in the thicket stooped low to escape discovery. +But his foot slipped in the tangle and a rotting +branch cracked under it, giving out a sound which +brought Mosebury to an abrupt halt with his head +warily raised and his rifle poised. He, too, had enemies +and must walk in caution.</p> +<p>There had been times when Sam’s life had hinged +on just such trivial things as the snapping of a twig, +and now, peering through the thickets Spurrier saw +a flinty hardness come into his eyes.</p> +<p>Sam stepped quietly but swiftly to the roadside and +sheltered himself behind a rock. He said no word, +but he waited, and Spurrier could feel that his eyes +were boring into his own place of concealment with a +scrutiny that went over it studiously and keenly, foot +by foot.</p> +<p>He hurriedly considered what plan to pursue. If +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +Mosebury was in league with Colby, to show himself +would be almost as undesirable a thing as to show +himself to Colby direct. Yet if he stayed there with +the guilty seeming of one in hiding, Mosebury would +end by locating him—and might assume that the hiding +was itself a proof of enmity. He decided to declare +himself so he shouted boldly: “It’s John Spurrier,” +and rose a moment later into view.</p> +<p>Then he came forward, thinking fast, and when the +two met in the road, mendaciously said:</p> +<p>“I guess it looks queer for a man with a clear conscience +to take to the timber that way, Mr. Mosebury—but +you may remember that I was recently attacked, +and I don’t know who did it.”</p> +<p>Mosebury nodded. “I’d be ther last man ter fault +ye fer thet,” he concurred. “I was doin’ nigh erbout +ther same thing myself, but I didn’t know ye often +fared over this way, Mr. Spurrier.”</p> +<p>“No, it’s off my beat.” Spurrier was now lying +fluently in what he fancied was to be a game of wits +with a man who might have led the siege upon his +house. “I was just going over to Stamp Carter’s +place. He wanted me to advise him about a property +deal.”</p> +<p>For a space Sam stood gravely thoughtful, and +when he spoke his words astonished the other.</p> +<p>“Seein’ we <i>hev</i> met up, accidental-like, I’ve got hit +in head ter tell ye somethin’ deespite hit ain’t rightly +none of my business.” Again he paused, and it was +plain that he was laboring under embarrassment, so +Spurrier inquired:</p> +<p>“What is it?”</p> +<p>“Of course, I’ve done heered ther talk erbout yore +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +bein’ attacked. Don’t ye really suspicion no special +man?”</p> +<p>“Suspicion is one thing, Mr. Mosebury, and knowledge +is another.”</p> +<p>“Yes, thet’s Bible truth, an’ yit I wouldn’t marvel +none yore suspicions went over thet-away—an’ came +up not fur off from hyar.” He nodded his head toward +Sim Colby’s house, and Spurrier, who was +steeled to fence, gave no indication of astonishment. +He only inquired:</p> +<p>“Why should Mr. Colby hold a grudge against +me?”</p> +<p>“I ain’t got no power of knowin’ thet.” Mosebury +spoke dryly. “An’ es I said afore, hit ain’t none of +my business nohow—still I does know thet ye’ve been +over hyar some sev’ral times, an’ every time ye came, +ye came quietlike es ef ye sought ter see Sim afore +Sim seed <i>you</i>.”</p> +<p>“You think I’ve been here before?”</p> +<p>“No, sir, I don’t think hit. I knows hit. I seed +ye.”</p> +<p>“Saw me!”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, seed ye. Hit’s my business to keep a +peeled eye in my face.”</p> +<p>So Spurrier’s careful secrecy had been transparent +after all, and if this man was an ally of Colby’s, Colby +already shared his knowledge. More than ever Spurrier +felt sure that his suspicions of the man whose eyes +had changed color, were grounded in truth.</p> +<p>“Howsomever,” went on Mosebury quietly, “I ain’t +nuver drapped no hint ter Sim erbout hit. I ain’t, +gin’rally speakin’, no meddler, but ef so be I kin forewarn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +ye ergainst harm, hit would pleasure me ter do +hit.”</p> +<p>There was a cordial ring of sincerity in the manner +and voice, which it was hard to doubt, so the other +said gravely:</p> +<p>“Thank you. I did suspect Colby, but I have no +proof.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know whether Sim grudges ye or not,” continued +Mosebury. “He ain’t nuver named ther matter +ter me nowise, guise, ner fashion—but Sim <i>wasn’t +with ther crowd thet went atter ye</i>. He didn’t even +know nothin’ erbout hit. Sometimes a man comes to +grief by barkin’ up ther wrong tree.”</p> +<p>Again suspicion came to the front. This savored +strongly of an attempt to alibi a confederate, and +Spurrier inquired bluntly:</p> +<p>“Since you broached this subject, I think it’s fair to +ask you another question. You tell me who <i>didn’t</i> +come. Do you know who <i>did</i>?”</p> +<p>For a moment Mosebury’s face remained blank, +then he spoke stiffly.</p> +<p>“I said I’d be glad ter warn ye—but I didn’t say +I war willin’ ter name no names. Thet would be +mighty nigh ther same thing es takin’ yore quarrel +onto myself.”</p> +<p>“Then that’s all you can tell me—that it wasn’t +Colby?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Spurrier,” rejoined the mountaineer seriously, +“ye <i>knows</i> jedgmatically an’ p’intedly thet ye’ve +got enemies that means business. I ain’t nuver +seed a man yet in these hills what belittled a peril sich +as yourn thet didn’t pay fer hit—with his life.”</p> +<p>“I don’t belittle it, but what can I do?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span></div> +<p>Sam Mosebury stood with a gaze that wandered off +over the broken sky line. So grave was his demeanor +that when his words came they carried the shock of inconsistent +absurdity.</p> +<p>“Thar’s a witch woman, thet dwells nigh hyar. Ef +I war in youre stid, I’d git her ter read ther signs fer +me an’ tell me what I had need guard ergainst most.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid,” answered Spurrier, repressing his contempt +with difficulty, “I’m too skeptical to pin my +faith to signs and omens.”</p> +<p>Again the mountain man was looking gravely across +the hills, but for a moment the eyes had flashed +humorously.</p> +<p>“I reckon we don’t need ter cavil over thet, Mr. +Spurrier. I don’t sot no master store by witchcraft +foolery my ownself. Mebby ye recalls thet oncet I +told ye a leetle story erbout my cat an’ my mockin’ +bird.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” Spurrier began to understand now. “You +sometimes speak in allegory. But this time I don’t get +the meaning.”</p> +<p>“Waal, hit’s this fashion. I <i>don’t</i> know who ther +men war thet tried ter kill ye. Thet’s God’s truth, +but I’ve got my own notions an’ mebby they ain’t fur +wrong. I ain’t goin’ ter name no names—but ef so +be ye wants ter talk ter ther witch woman, <i>I’ll</i> hev +speech with her fust. What comes outen magic +kain’t hardly make me no enemies—but mebby hit +<i>mout</i> enable ye ter discern somethin’ thet would profit +ye to a master degree.”</p> +<p>Spurrier stood looking into the face of the other +and then impulsively he thrust out his hand.</p> +<p>“Mr. Mosebury,” he said, “I’ll be honest with you. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +I half suspected you—because I’d met you at Colby’s +and I knew you hated Cappeze. I owe you an apology, +and I’m glad to know I was wrong.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Spurrier,” replied the other, “ef I <i>hed</i> attempted +yore life I wouldn’t hev failed, an’, moreover, +I don’t hate old Cappeze. Ther man thet wins +out don’t hev no need ter harbor hatreds. He hates +me because he sought ter penitentiary me—an’ +failed.”</p> +<p>“When shall we go to consult the oracle?” asked +Spurrier, and Mosebury shook his head.</p> +<p>“I reckon mebby I mout seem over cautious—even +timorouslike ter ye, in bein’ so heedful erbout keepin’ +outen sight in this matter,” he said. “But them thet +knows my record, knows I <i>ain’t</i>, jest ter say easy +skeered. You go home an’ wait an’ afore long I’ll +write ye a letter, tellin’ ye when ter go an’ how ter go. +Then ye kin make ther journey by yoreself.”</p> +<p>“That looks like common sense to me,” declared the +other, and he went home, forgetting the witch woman +on the way, because of the other and lovelier witchcraft +that he knew awaited him in his own house.</p> +<p>Spurrier, despite his dangers, responsibilities, and +conflict of purposes, was happy. He was happy in a +simpler and less complicated way than he had ever +been before, because his heart was in the ascendancy, +and Glory, he thought, was “livin’ up to her name.”</p> +<p>If he could have thrust some other things into the +same dark cupboard of half-contemptuous philosophy +to which he relegated his own dangers, he might have +been even happier. But a mentor who had rarely +troubled him in past years became insistent and audible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +through the silences—speaking with the voice of conscience.</p> +<p>He remembered telling Vivian Harrison, over the +consommé, that pearls did not make oysters happy +and that these illiterates of the hills might have hidden +wealth in the shells of their isolation and gain +nothing more than the oyster. Indeed, he had thought +of them no more than the pearl fisherman thinks of the +low form of life whose diseased state gives birth to +treasure. They inhabited a terrain over which he and +the forces of American Oil and Gas were to do battle, +and like birds nesting on a battlefield, they must take +their chances.</p> +<p>It was no longer possible to maintain that callous +indifference. These men, to whom he could not, without +disclosing his strategy and defeating his purpose, +tell the truth, had befriended him.</p> +<p>They were human and in many ways lovable. If he +succeeded, they would, upon his own advice, have sold +their birthrights.</p> +<p>However, he gave an anodyne to his conscience with +the thought that if victory came to him there would +be wealth enough for all to share. Having won his +conquest, he could be generous, rendering back as a +gift a part of what should have been theirs by right. +The means of doing this he had worked out but he +could confide to no one. He had embarked as cold +bloodedly as Martin Harrison had ever started on any +of the enterprises that had made him a money baron. +Indeed it had been Spurrier who had fired the chief +with interest in the scheme, and if the thing were +culpable the culpability had been his own. Then he +had come to realize that in the human equation was a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +factor that he had ignored: the rights of the ignorant +native. He had fought down that recognition as the +voice of sentimentality until at last he had no longer +been able to fight it down. Between those two states +of mind had been a war of mental agony and conflict, +of doubt, of vacillation. The conclusion had not +been easily reached. Now he meant to carry on the +war he had undertaken unaltered as to its objective of +winning a victory for Harrison over Trabue and the +myrmidons of A. O. and G., but he meant to bring in +that victory in such a guise that the native would +share in the division of the spoils. He knew that +Harrison, if he had an intimation of such an amendment +of plan, would sharply veto it, but when the +thing was done it would be too late to object—and +meanwhile Spurrier regarded himself no less the trustee +of the mountain-land holder than the servant of +Martin Harrison. He was willing to shoulder, out of +his own stipulated profits, the chief burden of this +division, and in the end he would have driven a better +bargain for his simple friends than they could have +hoped to attain for themselves.</p> +<p>Yet in him was being reborn an element of character, +which had long been repressed.</p> +<p>And there in the other section of the State where +political connections had to be established and the +skids of intrigue greased, much stood waiting to be +done. Already most of what could be accomplished +here on the ground had progressed to a point from +which the end could be seen.</p> +<p>John Spurrier, the seeming idler, could control almost +all the territory needful for his right of way—all +except a tract belonging to Brother Bud Hawkins, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +cautiously left for the last because he wished to +handle that himself and did not yet wish to appear +in the negotiations.</p> +<p>In the intricate workings of such a project by a +campaign of secrecy, the matter was not only one of +acquiring a certain expanse of a definite sort of property +in a given region, but of acquiring holdings that +commanded the only practicable route through passable +gaps. This special lie and trend of ground he +thought of and spoke of, in his business correspondence, +as “the neck of the bottle.” When he held it, +it mattered little who else had liquid in the bottle. It +could come out only through his neck and, therefore, +under his terms. Yet even when that was achieved, +there remained the need of the corkscrew without +which he himself could make no use of his range-wide +jug of crude petroleum. That corkscrew was the +charter to be had from a legislature where American +Oil and Gas was supposed to have sentinels at the +door.</p> +<p>He could not take Glory with him on these trips, because +Glory was of the hills, and loyal to the hills—and +he could not yet take the natives into his confidence. +For the same reason he could give her only +business reasons of the most general and evasive character +for leaving her behind.</p> +<p>But the work that Spurrier had done so far was +only the primary section of a broader design. What +he had accomplished affected the oil field on the remote +side of Hemlock Mountain, the part of the field +that the earlier boom had never touched, and his +entire project looked to a totality embracing also the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +“nigh” side, where his operations still existed only in +projection.</p> +<p>It was while this situation stood that there came +to him one day two letters calling upon him for two +irreconcilable courses of action. One was from Louisville, +urging him to return there at once to busy himself +with political plannings; the other was a rude +scrawl from Sam Mosebury setting an appointment +with the “witch woman.”</p> +<p>Spurrier was reluctant to go to Louisville. It meant +laying aside the little paradise of the present for the +putting on of heavy harness. It necessitated another +excuse to Glory, and more than that, being away from +Glory. Yet that was the bugle call of his mission, +and he fancied that whatever threatened him here in +the hills was a menace of local effect. If that were +true he would not need the warning which the unaccountable +desperado, Sam Mosebury, meant to relay +to him through channels of alleged magic, until he +came back.</p> +<p>Therefore, the witch could wait. But in that detail +Spurrier erred, and when he answered the summons +that called him to town without his occult consultation, +he unwittingly discarded a warning which +he needed there no less than in the hills.</p> +<p>He was called upon to choose a turning without +pause, and he followed his business instincts. It happened +that instinct misled him.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII' id='CHAPTER_XVII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +</div> +<p>One afternoon Trabue, the unadvertised dictator +of American Oil and Gas, sat with several +of his close subordinates in a conference that +had to do with Martin Harrison, the man he assumed +to ignore.</p> +<p>“Unless some unforeseen thing sends oil soaring,” +ventured Oliver Morris, “this fellow Spurrier is having +his trouble for his pains. My idea is that he’s +seeking to tease us into counter activity—and trail +after us in the profits.”</p> +<p>“And if something <i>should</i> send oil soaring,” crisply +countered Cosgrove, “he’d have us distanced with a +runaway start.”</p> +<p>“Who is this man Spurrier?” demanded Trabue +himself. “What does our research department report?”</p> +<p>“He’s a protégé of Martin Harrison’s.”</p> +<p>Trabue appeared to find the words illuminating, +and a shrewd irony glinted in his brief smile.</p> +<p>“If he’s Harrison’s man, he’s out to knife me—and +he has resources at his back. Tell me more about +him.”</p> +<p>Cosgrove took from his portfolio a neatly typed +memorandum, and read from it aloud:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Former army officer who gained the sobriquet of “Plunger” +Spurrier: Court-martialed and convicted upon charge of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +murder, and pardoned through efforts of Senator Beverly. +Associated with various enterprises as a general investigator +and initiative expert. Rumor has it that Harrison is grooming +him as his own successor.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“If his reputation is that of a plunger,” argued +Morris, “my guess is that he’s playing a long-shot +bet for a killing.”</p> +<p>“And you guess wrong. If Harrison has picked +this fellow to wear his own mantle, the man is more +than a gambling tout. It is only lunacy to underestimate +him or dismiss him with contempt.”</p> +<p>Cosgrove nodded his concurrence and amplified it. +“In my judgment he’s something of a genius with a +chrome-nickeled nerve, but he’s adroit as well as bold. +He has operated only through others and has kept +himself inconspicuous. Except for an accident, we +should have had no warning of his activities.”</p> +<p>“If he were to get bitten by a rattlesnake,” growled +Morris savagely, “it would be a lucky thing for us. +Of course, we might beguile him into our own camp.”</p> +<p>Trabue shook his head in a decisive negation.</p> +<p>“That would only notify him that we recognize his +effort and fear it. If the game’s big enough, we don’t +want him.” He paused, then added with a grim +facetiousness: “As for your other suggestion, we +have no rattlesnakes in our equipment.”</p> +<p>The dynamic-minded master of strategy sat balancing +a pen-holder on his extended forefinger for a +few moments, then he inquired as if in afterthought: +“By the way, I feel curious as to how the tip came to +us that this conspiracy was on foot. You say that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +except for an accident we should not have known +it.”</p> +<p>Cosgrove smiled. “It came to this office through +the regular channels of our local agencies—and I +didn’t inquire searchingly into the details. I gathered, +though, that the trail was picked up by a sort of +information tout—a fellow who was hurt and compromised +a damage suit against us. It seems that he +is supposed to be blind—but he could nonetheless see +well enough to read some memoranda that chanced to +come his way.” The gentleman cleared his throat almost +apologetically as he added: “As I remarked I +didn’t learn the particulars. I merely took the information +for what it might be worth, and set our +men to watching.”</p> +<p>“I see,” Trabue made dry acknowledgment. “And +what is being done toward watching him?”</p> +<p>“I understand we have a man there who is assuming +an enmity toward us and who is ostensibly helping +Spurrier to build up political influence.”</p> +<p>“I see,” said Trabue once more, with even a shade +more dryness in his voice.</p> +<p>That conversation had taken place quite a long +while before the present, but it set into quiet motion +the wheels of a large and powerful organization.</p> +<p>The knowledge that John Spurrier was objectionable +to A. O. and G. had filtered through to more local, +yet confidential, officials, and through them to “men in +the field,” and it is characteristic of such delegations +of authority, that each department suits the case referred +to it to the practical workings of its own environment.</p> +<p>Gentlemen of high business standing in lower +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +Broadway could permit themselves no violence of language, +beyond the intimation that this upstart was a +nuisance. Translated into the more candid brutality +of camp-following parasites in the wildness of the +hills, that mild declaration became: “The man needs +killin’. Let’s git him!”</p> +<p>Now, Spurrier found that the visit to Louisville +and Lexington, which had promised to be the matter +of weeks, must stretch itself into months, and that +until the convening and adjournment of the assembly +itself, his presence would be as requisite as that of a +ship’s officer on the bridge. In one respect he was +gratified. American Oil and Gas seemed serenely unsuspicious +of any danger. Vigilance seemed lapsed. +Those men whose duty it was to watch the corporation’s +interest and to hold in line the needed lawmakers, +appeared to regard legislative protection as a +thing bought and paid for and safe from trespass.</p> +<p>And Spurrier, knowing better, was secretly triumphant, +but without Glory he was far from happy.</p> +<p>Had he known what influences were at work with +cancerlike corrosions upon her loyalty, what food was +nourishing her anxiety, he would have stolen the time +to go to her. Hers was an anxiety which she did not +acknowledge. Even to herself she denied its existence +and against any outside suggestion of inner hurt pride +would have risen in valiant resentment.</p> +<p>But in her heart it talked on in whispers that she +could not hush. At night she would waken suddenly, +wide-eyed with apprehension and seek to reassure herself +by the emphasis of her avowals: “He’s <i>not</i> +ashamed of me. He’s not leaving me because of that! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +He’s a big man with big business, and some day he’ll +take me with him, everywhere!”</p> +<p>When old Cappeze, a man not given to unreflecting +or careless speech, flatly questioned: “Glory—why +doesn’t John ever take you with him?” she flinched +and fell into exculpations that limped.</p> +<p>The old man was quick to note the pained rawness +of the nerve he had touched, and he began talking of +something else, but when he was alone once more his +old eyes took on that fanatic absorption that came +of his deep love for his daughter, and he shook his +head dubiously over her future.</p> +<p>One day a neighborhood woman came by Glory’s +house and found her standing at the door. Tassie +Plumford neither claimed nor was credited with powers +of magic, but she, too, might have been called a +“witch woman.” In curdled disposition and shrewishness +of tongue, she merited the title.</p> +<p>“Waal, waal, Glory Cappeze,” she drawled in her +rasping, nasal voice. “Yore man hes done built ye a +right monstrous fine house, hyar, ain’t he?”</p> +<p>“Come in and see it, Mrs. Plumford,” invited the +young wife. “But my name’s Glory Spurrier now—not +Cappeze.”</p> +<p>In the gesture with which the woman drew her +shawl tighter about her lean shoulders, she contrived +to convey the affront of suspicion and disbelief.</p> +<p>“No, I reckon I ain’t got ther power ter tarry now,” +she declined. “I don’t git much time fer gaddin’, an’ +be yore name whatsoever hit may, there’s them hyar-abouts +es ’lows yore man lavishes everything on ye but +his own self. He’s away from ye most of his time, +albeit I reckon he’s got car fare aplenty fer two.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></div> +<p>Glory stiffened, and without a word turned her back +on her ungracious visitor. She went into the house +with the tilted chin of one who disdains to answer +insolent slanders, but in the tenderness of her heart +the barb had nonetheless sunk deep. So people were +saying that!</p> +<p>Over at Aunt Erie Toppitt’s the shrew again halted—and +there it seemed that she did have time to +“tarry,” and roll the morsel of gossip under tongue.</p> +<p>“Mebby she’s ther furriner’s lawful wife an’ then +ergin mebby she ain’t nuthin’ but his woman,” opined +Tassie Plumford. “Hit ain’t none of my business +nohow, but a godly woman hes call ter be heedful +whar she visits at.”</p> +<p>“A godly woman!” Aunt Erie’s tone stung like a +hornet attack. “What has godliness got ter do with +<i>you</i>, anyhow, Tassie Plumford? The records of ther +high cote over at Carnettsville hes got <i>yore</i> record fer +a witness thet swears ter perjury.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Plumford trembled with rage but, prudently, +she elected to ignore the reference to her legal status.</p> +<p>“Ef they was rightfully married,” she retorted, “hit +didn’t come ter pass twell old man Cappeze diskivered +her alone with him—in his house—jest ther two of +’em—an’ they wouldn’t nuver hev <i>been</i> diskivered +savin’ an’ exceptin’ fer ther attack on ther furriner.” +In the self-satisfaction of one who has scored, she +added: “I’ll be farin’ on now, I reckon.”</p> +<p>“An’ don’t nuver come back,” stormed Aunt Erie, +whose occasional tantrums were as famous as her +usual good humor. “Unless ye seeks ter hev ther +dawgs sot on ye.”</p> +<p>While the spiteful and forked little tongues of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +gossip were doing their serpent best to poison what +had promised to be an Eden for Glory at home in the +hills, the husband who was charged with neglecting +her was miserable in town.</p> +<p>His work had been the breath of life to him until +now, bringing the zestful delight of prevailing over +stubborn difficulties, and building bridges that should +carry him across to his goal of financial power. Now +he found it a necessity that exiled him from a place +to which he had come half-contemptuously and to +which his converted thoughts turned as the prayers of +the true believer turn toward Mecca.</p> +<p>He who had been urban in habit and taste found +nothing in the city to satisfy him. The smoke-filled +air seemed to stifle him and fill him with a yearning +for the clean, spirited sweep of the winds across the +slopes. He knew that these physical aspects were +trivial things he would have swept aside had they not +stood as emblems for a longing of the heart itself—a +nostalgia born of his new life and love.</p> +<p>But all the plans that had built one on the other +toward a definite end of making an oil field of the +barren hills were drawing to a focus that could not be +neglected. He could no more leave these things undone +than could his idol Napoleon have abandoned +his headquarters before Austerlitz, and the sitting of +the legislature could not be changed to suit his wishes. +Neither could the lining up of forces that were to +guide his legislation to its passage be left unwatched.</p> +<p>So the absence that he had thought would be brief, +or at worst a series of short trips away from home, +was prolonging itself into a winter in Louisville and +Frankfort. He found himself as warily busy as a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +collie herding a panicky flock, and as soon as one +danger was met and averted, a new one called upon +him from a new and unsuspected quarter.</p> +<p>Much of the deviousness of playing underground +politics disgusted him, and yet he knew he would have +regarded it only as an amusing game for high stakes +before his change of heart. But now that it was to be +a battle for the mountain men as well as for Martin +Harrison and for himself, it could be better stomached.</p> +<p>The effort to pick out men who could be trusted in +an enterprise where they had to be bought, was one +which taxed both his insight into human nature and +his self-esteem.</p> +<p>Senator Chew, himself a mountaineer, who had +come from a ragged district to the state assembly and +who seemed to harbor a hatred against A. O. and G. +of utter malevolence, was almost as his other self, +furnishing him with eyes with which to see and ears +with which to hear, and familiarity with all the devious, +unlovely tricks of lobby processes.</p> +<p>But Senator Chew, a countryman, who had capitalized +his shifty wits and hard-won education, bent his +knee to the brazen gods of cupidity and ambition.</p> +<p>“I don’t just see,” he demurred petulantly to Spurrier, +“why you go about this thing the way you do. +You’ve got unlimited capital behind you and yet in +going after these options you ain’t hardly got hold of +any more land than just enough to let your pipe line +through. You could get all a man’s property just as +cheap per acre as part of it—and when I’ve sweated +blood to give you your charter and you’ve sweated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +blood to grab your right-of-way, that God-forsaken +land will be a Klondike.”</p> +<p>“I hope so,” smiled Spurrier, and his ally went +on.</p> +<p>“All right, but why have nothing out of it except +a pipe-line? Why not have the whole damn business +to split three ways, among Harrison’s crowd, +yourself—and the crowd I’ve got to handle?”</p> +<p>“You’re a mountain man, Senator,” the opportunity +hound reminded him. “You know that in every +other section of the hills to which development has +come, the native has reaped only a heart-ache and an +empty belly. I am purposely taking only a part of +each man’s holding, so that when the oil flows there +what he has left will be worth more to him than all +of it was before.”</p> +<p>“Hell,” growled the politician. “The men you +ought to think about making money for, are the men +you need—like me, and the men who back you, like +Harrison. These local fellows won’t thank you, and +in my opinion you’re a fool, if you’ll permit me to +talk plain.”</p> +<p>“Talk as plain as you like, Senator,” smiled the +other. “But I think I’m acting with right sound +sense. Our field can be more profitably developed +among friends than among enemies—even if no consideration +other than the practical enters into the problem.”</p> +<p>It was not until Christmas time that Spurrier broke +away from his activities in Louisville, and then he +came bearing gifts and with a heart full of eagerness. +He came elated, too, at the fair promise of his prospects, +and confident of victory.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span></div> +<p>So Glory hid the fears that had been growing in +her heart and, because of the tidal power of personal +fascination and contact, she found it an easy task. +While Spurrier was with her, those fears seemed to +lose their substance and to stand out as absurdities. +They were delirious miasmas dissipated by the sun and +daylight of companionship.</p> +<p>Spurrier kept most of his valuable papers in a +safety vault in Louisville, but for purposes of reference +here, he maintained a complete system of carbon +copies, and these must be stored in some place where +he could feel sure they were immune from any prying +eye. The entire record of his proceedings would be +clear to any reader of those memoranda.</p> +<p>While Glory was away one day, he removed a section +of the living-room wall and fashioned something +in the nature of a secret cabinet, upon which he could +rely for these purposes. Before he went away again +he shared that secret with her, since in certain exigencies +it might be needful that some one should be +able to act on wired instructions. He showed her the +bit of molding that was removable and which gave +entrance to the hidden recess.</p> +<p>“In that strong box,” he told her, “are papers of +vital importance. If I haven’t taken you entirely +into my confidence about them all, dear, it’s because +they concern other people more closely than myself. +All my own affairs are yours—but in the service of +others, I must obey instructions and those instructions +are rigid.”</p> +<p>He took out one envelope, though, plainly marked.</p> +<p>“This,” he said, “is a paper to be used only in case +of extreme emergency. It is an order on the safety-deposit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +people in Louisville to open my vault to the +bearer. In the event of my death, or if I should wire +you from a distance, I would want you to use it.”</p> +<p>Even that admittance into the veiled sanctum of +his business life pleased Glory, and she nodded her +head gravely.</p> +<p>She did not tell him, and he did not guess, that +tongues were wagging in his absence, and that people +said she was good enough only for that part of +his life in which he shed his white collar and his +“fine manners” and donned the rougher habiliments +of the backwoods.</p> +<p>Even when she learned that his coming back had +been only to spend the holidays with her and that he +must leave again to be gone for weeks, at least, she +let none of the disquiet that smouldered in her find +an utterance in words.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>On a fine old Blue Grass estate, which exhaled the +elegance and ease of the Old South, lived Colonel +Merriwell, a life-long friend of Dyke Cappeze. In +years long gone he had more than once sought to +have Cappeze transfer his activities to a wider field. +Now, timber interests called him to the mountains, +and though the cold weather had set in, his daughter +chose to come with him. She had heard much of the +strange and retarded life of the mountains, and because +it was so different from the refinements with +which she had always been surrounded, she wanted to +see it.</p> +<p>When they arrived after traveling conditions that +warranted every conception of quaintness, but violated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +every demand of comfort, the girl from the +Bluegrass found Glory a discovery.</p> +<p>At once she recognized that into any drawing-room +this wilderness-bred girl could be safely dropped, and +that even though she stood in a corner, she would +soon become its center.</p> +<p>Helen Merriwell was fascinated by the anomaly of +an inherent aristocracy in an encompassing life which +was almost squalid, and a bond of sympathy sprang +into instant being. The Bluegrass woman knew by +instinct, though through no utterance from the loyal +lips, that the other was lonely, and when Colonel +Merriwell announced his intention of returning home, +the daughter decided to continue her visit and its +companionship.</p> +<p>To Spurrier’s house, too, during the crisp, clear +weather of late winter came, without announcement +or expectation another visitor. They were two other +visitors to be exact, but one so overshadowed his +companion in importance that the second became +negligible.</p> +<p>At the Carnettsville station the daily train drew up +one morning and uncoupled, on a siding, the first private +car that had ever run over that piece of roadbed. +Its chef and valet gazed superciliously down upon the +assembled loungers, but the two gentlemen who +alighted and gave their names as Martin Harrison +and his secretary, Mr. Spooner, were to all appearances +“jest ordinary folks.”</p> +<p>Glory was housecleaning on the day of Harrison’s +coming, and, in neatly patched gingham and dust-protected +crown, she came nearer seeming the typical +mountain woman than she had for many days before. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +Her fresh beauty was hard to eclipse, but she was less +presentable than she wished to be when her husband’s +great patron saw her for the first time and contrasted +her with such women as his own daughter.</p> +<p>When she heard the name, without previous warning, +a sort of panic possessed her and for once she +became tongue-tied and awkward, so that after the +first, Helen Merriwell stepped into the breach and did +the talking.</p> +<p>“My name is Martin Harrison,” said the great man +with simple cordiality. “I thought John Spurrier +lived here—but I seem to be mistaken.”</p> +<p>“He—he does live here,” stammered Glory, catching +the swiftly stifled amazement of the magnate’s +disapproving eyes.</p> +<p>“Here?” He put the question blankly as if only +politeness prevented a greater vehemence of surprise. +“But I expected to find a bachelor establishment. +There are ladies here.”</p> +<p>Glory fell back a step as if in retreat under attack. +If this statement were true, Spurrier had never acknowledged +her to the employer with whom his relations +were intimately close. In her own eyes, she +stood as one who had lost caste and been repudiated—and +all self-confidence abandoned her, giving way to +trepidation.</p> +<p>Harrison stood bewilderedly looking at this country +girl who had turned tremulous and pale, and Helen +Merriwell stepped forward.</p> +<p>“Then you didn’t know that Mr. Spurrier was married?” +she smilingly inquired.</p> +<p>The money baron transferred his glance to her as +his shadowed face lightened into relief. This young +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +woman had the poise and ease of his own world, which +made communication facile. If Spurrier had not been +candid with him, at all events he had, perhaps, not +unclassed himself. The other was presumably a local +servant of whom he need think no more.</p> +<p>“Mr. Spurrier,” he answered easily, “had not mentioned +his marriage, probably because our recent correspondence +has all related to business. However, I +hold it unhandsome of him not to have done so.” +He paused, then added deferentially: “Of course, I +am better prepared now to felicitate him—since I have +seen you.”</p> +<p>But Helen Merriwell laughed and laid a hand on +Glory’s shoulder.</p> +<p>“You do me too much honor, Mr. Harrison,” she +assured him. “<i>This</i> is Mrs. Spurrier.”</p> +<p>The financier’s ingrained politeness for once failed +him. It was not for long, but in the breached instant +he stiffened arrogantly as his eyes went back to Glory, +and betrayed themselves in half-contemptuous hostility. +The lieutenant whom he had chosen as his own +successor in the world of lofty affairs had not only +deceived him but had thrown himself wantonly away +upon a stammering daughter of illiterates!</p> +<p>Martin Harrison bowed again, but this time with a +precise formality.</p> +<p>“I didn’t notify Mr. Spurrier of my coming, since +I felt sure I would find him here,” he explained briefly, +directing himself pointedly to Helen Merriwell. “I +am on my way south, so now I’ll defer seeing him +until another time—unless you expect him back +shortly?”</p> +<p>Helen turned inquiringly to Glory and Glory shook +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +her head. The episode, confirming her own anxieties, +had unnerved her steadfast courage into collapse.</p> +<p>Had any warning come to her in advance of the +event her bearing toward this stranger would have +been a different one. The pride that bowed submissively +to no one except in love, would have sustained +her. The natural dignity which was the gift of her +blood would have been the thing that any observer +must have first and last recognized. With a chance to +have shaped her attitude, Glory would have received +Harrison as a Barbarian princess might have met an +ambassador from Rome, but no such chance had been +afforded her and she stood as distraught and as +panicky as a stage-struck child whose speech fails.</p> +<p>She even slid back into the rough-hewn vernacular +that had been so completely banished from her lips +and custom.</p> +<p>“I ain’t got ther power ter say,” she faltered, “when +he’ll git back. He’s goin’ ter Frankfort first.”</p> +<p>“I’ll write to him there,” said the capitalist.</p> +<p>Harrison departed with the stiff dignity of an +affronted sachem, and Helen Merriwell, looking after +him, smiled with amusement for the incident which +she so well understood, until she turned and saw Glory.</p> +<p>The girl had wilted back against the wall and stood +there as if she had been stricken. Her great, violet +eyes were brimming with the spirit of tragedy and +held the despair of one who has blithely returned +home—to find his house in ruin and ashes.</p> +<p>Glory stole away to her own room, escaping the +embrace of sympathetic arms, as soon as she could. +“He’s done denied me ter his friends,” she told herself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +wildly. “He dast’n’t acknowledge me ter fine +folks!”</p> +<p>Then through the first, torpid misery of hurt pride, +crept a more terrifying thought. Spurrier had been +practically engaged to this man’s daughter. He had +been diverted from his purpose by motives of pity, and +now that Harrison knew, he might be ruined—probably +would be ruined. If so disaster would come to +him because of her—and at last she rose from the +chair where she had dropped down, collapsed, with a +light of new resolution in her eyes.</p> +<p>“If that’s all I’m good for,” she declared tempestuously, +“he’s got to be rid of me.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII' id='CHAPTER_XVIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +</div> +<p>During the sitting of the legislature John +Spurrier was a sporadic onlooker, and his +agents were as vigilant as sentinels in a danger +zone. The last day of the term drew to a wintry +sunset, and when the clock registered midnight the +body would stand automatically adjourned until gavel +fall two years hence.</p> +<p>Spurrier, outwardly a picture of serenity, but inwardly +tensed for the final issue, sat in the visitors’ +gallery of the Senate chamber. The charter upon +which all his hopes hung as upon a fulcrum was all +but in his grasp. Seemingly the enemy slept on. Presumably +in those last tired hours the authorizing bill +would slip through to passage with the frictionless +ease of well-oiled bearings.</p> +<p>The needed men had been won over. Carping critics +might prate, here and there, of ugly means that +savored of bribery, but that was academic. The +promise of forth-coming victory remained. Methods +may be questionable. Results are not, and Spurrier +was interested in results.</p> +<p>A. O. and G. had corrupted and suborned certain +public servants. He had discovered their practice and +played their own cards to their undoing. His ostensible +clients were perhaps little cleaner-handed than their +adversaries, but certainly, those other clients who did +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +not even know themselves to be represented stood with +no stain on their claims.</p> +<p>Those native men and women had not asked him to +safeguard them, and had they been able to see what +he was doing they would have guessed only that, after +winning their faith, he was bent on swindling them. +But Spurrier knew not only the seeming facts but +those which lay beneath and he fought with a definite +sense of stewardship.</p> +<p>First the <i>coup</i> must succeed, since that success was +the foundation of all the rest, and the moment was at +hand.</p> +<p>For this he had slaved, faced dangers and deprived +himself of the contentment of home and the society of +his wife. Now it was about to end in victory.</p> +<p>The enemy had been caught napping, and the victory +would be his. Certainly he had been as fair as +the foe. What now remained was a perfunctory confirmation +by the Senate, and in these final wearied +hours it would slip through easily in the general +wind-up of uncontested affairs.</p> +<p>Spurrier had not slept for two days—or had slept +little. When this ended he would go to his bed and +lie there in sunken hours of restoration the clock +around—and after that back to Glory. Already he +carried in his pocket the brief message which he +meant to put upon the wires to Harrison, at the moment +of midnight and success. Characteristically it +read: “Complete victory. Spurrier.”</p> +<p>Now as the clerk droned through the mass of unfinished +matters that burdened the schedule, the +clock stood at ten in the evening, and a spirit of disordered +peevishness proclaimed itself in the chamber. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +Seats were vacated. Voices rose in unparliamentary +clamor.</p> +<p>From the desk where a mountain senator sat in +touseled disarray, a flask was drawn and tipped with +scant regard to senatorial dignity. Then the chairman +of the committee which had the steering of Spurrier’s +affairs arose and handed a paper to the clerk.</p> +<p>Spurrier himself maintained the same unemotional +cast of countenance with which, years before, he had +watched a horse in the stretch battling for more than +he could afford to lose, but Wharton, who sat at his +side, chewed nervously on an unlighted cigar. Sleepy +reporters yawned at the press tables as the clerk droned +out his sing-song, “An act entitled an act conferring +charter rights upon the Hemlock Pipe Line Company +of Kentucky.”</p> +<p>The reading of the measure seemed devoid of interest +or attention. It went forward in confusion, +yet when it was ended the mountain man who had +taken the swig out of his flask, came slowly to his +feet.</p> +<p>“Mr. President of the Senate,” he drawled, “I +want to address a few incongruvial remarks to the +senators in regards to this here proposed measure.”</p> +<p>With a sudden sense of premonition Spurrier found +himself sitting electrically upright.</p> +<p>That man was Senator Chew who had sat in council +with him and advised him; his right hand in action +and his fox-brain in planning, yet now, with every +moment invaluable he was burning up time!</p> +<p>He was a pygmy among small men, and as he +drooled on he seemed to urge no pertinent objection. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +Yet before he had been five minutes on his feet his +intent was clear and his success assured.</p> +<p>Out of the hands of their recognized lieutenants +A. O. and G. had taken the matter of serving them. +Into the hands of this obscure and loutish Solon who +was ostensibly pledged to their enemies, they had +thrust their commission, and now with the clock creeping +forward toward adjournment, he meant to talk +the charter measure to death by holding the floor until +the opportunity for a vote had elapsed.</p> +<p>Tediously and inanely he meandered along, and no +one knew what he was talking about. In extravagant +metaphor and florid simile he indulged himself—and +the clock worked industriously, an ally not to be +unduly hurried.</p> +<p>“Gentlemen of the Senate—” he drooled, “most +of us have been raised in a land that knows little of +the primitive features that make up life with us, and +though it may not at first seem germane or pertinent, +I want you to go with me as your guide, while I try +to make you see the life of those steep counties that +are affected by the measure before you; counties that +lie behind the barriers and sleep the ancient sleep of +the forgotten.”</p> +<p>Men yawned while his tediousness spun itself into +a tawdry flow of slow words, but the Honorable Mr. +Chew talked on.</p> +<p>“Many the day, as a lad, have I lain by a rushing +brook,” he declaimed, “where the water gushes with +the sparkle of sunlit crystal and watched the deer +come down on gingerly lifted feet to drink his fill. +Now I reckon mighty few of you gentlemen have seen +a deer come down to drink——”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span></div> +<p>The minute hand of the clock, in comparison with +this windy deliberation seemed to be racing between +the dial characters.</p> +<p>“In God’s name,” exclaimed Spurrier, “isn’t there +any way to shut that fool up? He’s ruining us. Get +some of our leaders up here, Wharton. We’ve got +to stop him.”</p> +<p>“How?” demanded Wharton with a fallen jaw.</p> +<p>“I don’t give a damn how! Kill him—buy him. +Anything!”</p> +<p>“It’s too late,” responded Wharton grimly. “He’s +already bought. We’ve walked into their trap. We +might as well go home.”</p> +<p>Spurrier sent for his whip, but he had come to the +end of his resourcefulness and shook a dejected head.</p> +<p>“If you want to shoot him down as he stands +there,” said the gentleman testily, “I dare say it +would stop him short. I know no other way. He +is having resort to the senatorial privilege of filibuster. +We have let them slip up on us. A. O. and +G. has outbid you, that’s all.”</p> +<p>“But how in God’s name did they get wise?”</p> +<p>The other laughed grimly. “Wise?” he snorted. +“My guess is that they’ve been wise all the time and +that hayseed Iscariot has been playing us along for +suckers.”</p> +<p>Held by a deadly fascination, Spurrier sank back +into his seat. The clock over the speaker’s desk traveled +once, almost twice around the dial, and yet that +nasal voice wandered on in an endless stream of +grotesque bombast—talking the charter to a slow +death by strangulation.</p> +<p>Now, reflected Spurrier bitterly, his connection +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +with the enterprise must seem to any eye that viewed +it that only of Harrison’s jackal and lobbyist, who had +signally failed in his attempt to raid A. O. and G.</p> +<p>To the mountain folk themselves, if the facts ever +percolated into the hills, his seeming would be far +from heroic and with nothing tangible accomplished, +it would do no good to tell them that he had made +his fight with their interests at heart. Such a claim +would only stamp him in the face of contrary evidence +as taking a coward’s refuge in lies.</p> +<p>Then when it seemed to him that he could no longer +restrain himself, Spurrier heard the gavel fall. It +was a light sound, but it crashed on his brain with +thunders of destruction.</p> +<p>“Gentlemen,” declared the presiding officer, “The +Senate stands adjourned, <i>sine die</i>.”</p> +<p>Had John Spurrier gone to see the “witch woman” +when Mosebury advised it, his course from that point +on would have brought him to a different ending.</p> +<p>In looking back on that night, he could never quite +remember it with consecutive distinctness. Gaps of +forgetfulness were fitfully shot through with disconnected +scraps of recollection. When events began to +marshal themselves into orderly sequence, the windowpanes +of his hotel room were turning a dirty gray +with the coming of dawn, and he was sitting in a +straight-backed chair. His bed had not been touched. +Back of that lay a chaotic sense of irremediable disaster +and despair.</p> +<p>At last he caught a glimpse of himself in the +mirror, and that picture of disheveled wildness +startled him and brought him back to realization.</p> +<p>Then self-contempt swept in on him. He had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +called a man of iron nerve; a plunger who never +turned a hair under reversals of fortune—and now he +stood looking through the glass at a broken gambler +with frenzied eyes. It was such a face as one might +see in the circle before the Casino at Monte Carlo—the +place of suicides.</p> +<p>The man who had seemed to come from nowhere +and who had talked last night with such destructive +volubility, had been a pure shyster. To be outwitted +by such a clown carried the sting of chagrin, quite +apart from the material disaster. Yet into his disordered +thoughts came the realization that the senator +had been only a puppet. His actuating wires had been +pulled by the fingers of A. O. and G. and the men who +sat as overlords of A. O. and G. were only shysters +of a greater caliber. The men whom he, himself, +served were no better. Compared to this backwoods +statesman he, John Spurrier, was as a smooth and +sophisticated confidence man paralleled with a pickpocket. +Ethically, they were cut from the same cloth, +though to differing patterns—one rustic and the other +urban.</p> +<p>He had been engaged in a tawdry game, for all its +gilding of rich prospects, but in the face of defeat a +man cannot change his colors.</p> +<p>Had he been able to undertake this fight as his own +man and choose his own methods—changing them as +he grew in stature—there might have been a man’s +zest in the game.</p> +<p>Now, less than ever, could he speak open truth to +these simple friends who had trusted him. Now he +must fight out a damaged campaign to the end along +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +the lines to which he stood committed, and until the +end there was nothing to say.</p> +<p>Perhaps if he could avert total ruin, he might yet +have opportunity to reclaim the confidence of these +Esaus who had traded for a mess of pottage. Certainly +they had nothing to hope for from the myrmidons +of Trabue.</p> +<p>John Spurrier forced his shoulders back into military +erectness. He compelled his lips into the stiff +and counterfeited curvature of a smile.</p> +<p>Not only had every resource he could muster gone +into the scrapped enterprise, leaving him worse than +bankrupt, but through him Martin Harrison had been +led into the sinking of a fortune.</p> +<p>Harrison would, in all likelihood, be less bitter +about the money loss, than the thought of the triumphant +smile on Trabue’s thin lips, but it was quite in +the cards that, with his contempt for failure, he +would wash his hands of Spurrier.</p> +<p>That, of course, spelled ruin. The exhibition skater +had gone through the thin ice.</p> +<p>Harrison could, if he chose, do more than dismiss +John Spurrier. He had seen to it that his lieutenant +was bound to his standards by debts he could not pay, +save out of some future enrichment contingent on success. +If he chose to call those loans he would leave +his employee shattered beyond hope of recovery.</p> +<p>But when Spurrier went down to the hotel dining +room at breakfast time, a cold bath and a superhuman +exertion of will power had transformed him. His +bearing was a nice blending of the debonair and the +dignified.</p> +<p>To no eye of observation was there any trace of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +collapse or reversal. He seemed the man who demanded +the best from life and who got it.</p> +<p>At a table not far from his own sat Senator Chew +with a companion whom Spurrier did not know. The +traitor glanced up and his eye met that of the man he +had betrayed, then fell flinching.</p> +<p>Perhaps the mountaineer expected the dining room +to stage such a scene of recrimination and violence as +it had in the past on more than one occasion, for his +crafty face went brick red, then darkened into truculence +as he half pushed back his chair and his hand +swept tentatively toward his hip.</p> +<p>But the plunger had still his pride left, or its remnant, +and it was no part of his plan to stand the self-confessed +and vanquished victim, by any patent demonstration +of wrath. He met the eyes of the politician +who had played on both sides of the same game, and +smiled, and if there was contempt in the expression, +it was recognized only by the man who knew its +cause.</p> +<p>Later he wrote a telegram to Harrison. It was not +the thing he had expected to say, yet in it went no +whine of despair:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Have suffered a temporary reversal.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Those were the words that the capitalist read when +the message, after being decoded from its cipher, was +laid on his desk.</p> +<p>Harrison, recently returned from his Southern trip, +thought truculently of that nearby office in which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +Trabue was also receiving telegraphic information, +and he writhed in the wormwood of chagrin.</p> +<p>The curtness of his response scorched the wires:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Explain in person if you can. Otherwise we separate.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>So John Spurrier packed his bag and caught the +first train for the mountains. He must say good-by +to Glory, before facing this final ordeal, and he believed +that in that clarifying air he could brace himself +for the encounter that awaited him in New York.</p> +<p>As he turned into the yard of his own house he +paused, and something about his heart tightened until +it unsteadied him. Here alone, in all the world, he +had known what home meant, and in his heart and +veins rose an intoxicating tumult like that of wine.</p> +<p>Back of that emotional wave though lurked a misery +of self-reproach. Glory had made the magic of his +brief happiness, but there was a background, too, of +kindly souls and a ruggedly genuine welcome. He +had learned to know these people and to revise his +first, false views of them. In them dwelt the stout +honesty and real strength of oak and hickory.</p> +<p>First he had striven to plunder them, then sought to +lift the yoke of poverty from their long-bowed shoulders. +In both efforts he had failed.</p> +<p>But had he failed, after all? Certainly he stood +under the black shadow of a major disaster, but had +not others retrieved disasters and made final victory +only the brighter for its contrast with lurid misfortune?</p> +<p>He had been the plunger who seemed strongest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +when he was weakest, and these enduring hills spoke +their message of steadfastness to him as he stood surrounded +by their lofty crests of spruce and pine.</p> +<p>Then he had reached the door and flung it open +and Glory was in his arms, but unaccountably she had +burst into a tempest of tears.</p> +<p>Before he had had time to speak of the necessity +that called him East she was telling of the visit of +Martin Harrison and his indignant departure.</p> +<p>Despite his all-consuming absorption of a moment +before, Spurrier drew away, chilled by that announcement, +and Glory read in his eyes a momentary agony +of apprehension.</p> +<p>“In God’s name,” he demanded in a numbed voice, +“why didn’t you write me about that?”</p> +<p>“He said,” responded the wife simply, “that <i>he</i> +would write to you at Frankfort. I thought you +knew.”</p> +<p>“But I should have thought you’d have spoken of +his coming and going—like that.”</p> +<p>Her head came up with a brief little flash of hurt +pride.</p> +<p>“You hadn’t ever told him—about me,” she said, +though without accusation. “I didn’t want to talk to +you about it until you were ready to suggest it. It +might have seemed—disloyal.”</p> +<p>Spurrier again braced his shoulders. After a moment +he took her in his arms.</p> +<p>“Glory, my sweetheart, I’ve been playing a game +for big stakes. I’ve had to do some things I didn’t +relish. I’ve got to do another now. I’m summoned +to Harrison’s office in New York, at once—and I +have no choice.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></div> +<p>Glory drew away and looked with challenging directness +into his eyes.</p> +<p>“I suppose—you’ll go alone?”</p> +<p>“I must. Business affairs are at a crisis, and I need +a free hand. But, God granting me a safe return, it’s +to be our last separation. I swear that. I am always +wretched without you.”</p> +<p>Always before when disappointment or disquiet had +riffled the deeps of her eyes, it had taken only a word +and a smile from this man to dispel them and bring +back the serenity of content. Her moments of panic +when she had seemed to drop down, down into pits +of foreboding until she had plumbed the depth of +despair, had been moments to which she had surrendered +in his absence and of which he had been +given no hint.</p> +<p>Now with a gravity that was bafflingly unreadable +she stood silent and looked about the room, and the +man’s eyes followed hers.</p> +<p>Why was it, he almost fiercely demanded of himself, +that this cottage set in remote hills shed about +him a feeling of soul-satisfaction that he had never encountered +in more luxurious places?</p> +<p>Now as he looked at it the thought of leaving it +cramped his heart with a sort of breathless agony.</p> +<p>Yet, of course, there was no question after all. +It was because in everything it was reflection of +Glory’s own spirit and to him Glory stood for the +only love that had ever been bigger to him than himself.</p> +<p>The simplicity and good taste of the small house, +standing in a land of squalid cabins like a disciple of +quiet elegance among beggars, had been the result +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +of their collaboration. Glory had had the instinct +of artistic perception and true values and he had been +able to guide her from his sybarite experience.</p> +<p>The stone fireplace with its ingle-nook, built by their +own hands from rocks they had selected and gathered +together, seemed to him a beautiful thing. The natural +wood of the paneling, picked out at the saw-mill with +a critical eye for graining and figuration, satisfied the +eye, and the few pictures that he had brought from +the East were all landscapes that meant something to +each of them—lyric bits of canvas with singing skies. +To every object a memory had attached itself; a +memory that had also a tendril in their hearts.</p> +<p>But now Glory, too, was looking at all these things +as though she as well as himself were leaving them. +There was something of farewell in the glance that +lingered on them and caressed them, as if of leave-taking +and into Spurrier’s heart crept the intuition +that despite his declaration just made that this should +be their last separation, she was seeing in it a threat +of permanence.</p> +<p>And that was the thought that was chilling Glory’s +heart and muting the song of happiness which his +coming had awakened. This place which had been +founded with all the promise of home and companionship +was beginning to hold for her the foreboding +of loneliness and something like abandonment. He +knew it only when they were together here, but she +had been in it alone and frightened more than in times +of shared happiness.</p> +<p>And why was this true? Why could it be either +true or necessary unless, as she had told herself in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +panic moments and denied so persistently, she was +a misfit in his broader life and a woman whom he +could enjoy in solitude but dared not trust to comparison +with others?</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX' id='CHAPTER_XIX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +</div> +<p>At last she turned abruptly away, in order that the +misery which would no longer submit to concealment +might not show itself in her eyes, and +stood looking out of the window.</p> +<p>Spurrier crossed with anxious swiftness and took +her again into his arms.</p> +<p>“When I have finished this business trip,” he declared +fervently, “our separations shall end. They +have been too many and too long—but I’ve paid for +them in loneliness, dear. This call, that I’m answering +now, is unexpected but it’s imperative and I can’t +disobey it.”</p> +<p>She turned then, slowly and gravely, but with no +lightening of the burdened anxiety in her eyes.</p> +<p>“It’s not just that you have to go away, Jack,” she +told him. “It’s a great deal more than that.”</p> +<p>“What else is there, dearest?” His question was +intoned with surprise. “When we are together, I +have nothing else to ask of life. Have you?”</p> +<p>“The place has been changed—mightily changed,” +she went on musingly as though talking to herself +rather than to him. “And yet the walls are the same +as they were that day—when we both thought we +had to die here together.”</p> +<p>“They are the dearer for that,” he exclaimed fervently. +“That was what made us see things truly.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></div> +<p>“I wonder,” she questioned, then meeting his eyes +steadily she went on as though determined to say +what must be said.</p> +<p>“When you called Brother Hawkins in to marry +us, I was afraid. I was afraid because I thought you +were only doing it out of kindness, and that afterward +you’d be ashamed of me.”</p> +<p>“Ashamed of you,” he echoed with indignant incredulity. +“In God’s name how could I be?”</p> +<p>“Or if not ashamed of me that you couldn’t help +knowing that I was—what I am—all right here in +the hills but that outside—I wouldn’t do.”</p> +<p>“If you were ever afraid of that, it was only because +you were undervaluing yourself. You surely +haven’t any ghost of such a fear left now.”</p> +<p>For a little she stood silent again torn between the +loyalty that hesitated to question him and the pride +that was hurt.</p> +<p>Finally she said simply: “It’s a bigger fear now. +Unless I’m unpresentable, why do you—never take +me anywhere with you?”</p> +<p>John Spurrier laughed, vastly relieved that the +mountain of her anxiety had resolved itself, as he +thought, into a mole-hill. He could laugh because +he had no suspicion of the chronic soreness of her +heart and his answer was lightly made.</p> +<p>“These trips have all been in connection with the +sort of business, Glory, that would have meant keeping +me away from you whether you had gone to town +or not. When we travel together—and I want that +we shall travel a great deal—I must be free to devote +myself to you. I want to show the world to you +and I want to show you to the world.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></div> +<p>That declaration he fancied ought to resolve her +fears of his being ashamed of her.</p> +<p>“If you were afraid I’d seem out of place,” she +assured him, “I might be right sorry—and yet I think +I’d understand. I’m not a fool and I know I’d make +mistakes, but I was raised a lawyer’s daughter and +I’ve got a pretty good business head—yet you’ve +never told me anything of what this business is that +calls you away. You always treat me as if there +were no use in even trying to make me understand it.”</p> +<p>The man no longer laughed. He could not explain +that it was rather because she might understand too +well than not well enough. Even to her, until he was +ready to prove his intent by his actual deeds, it seemed +impossible to give that story without the seeming of +the plunderer of her people.</p> +<p>“When the time comes that releases me from my +pledge of absolute secrecy, dear,” he told her earnestly, +“I mean to tell you all about my business—and +I think you’ll approve, then. Now I don’t talk because +I have no right to.”</p> +<p>Again there was silence, after which Glory said in +a voice of still resolution which he had never heard +from her before:</p> +<p>“I’m ignorant and uncultivated, Jack, but to me +marriage is a full partnership—or it isn’t anything. +When Mr. Harrison came, I saw for the first time just +how I looked to men like him. I was just ‘pore white +trash.’”</p> +<p>“Did he——” Spurrier broke off and his face +went abruptly white with passion. Had Harrison +been there at that moment he would have stood in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +danger at the hands of his employee, but Glory shook +her head and hastened to quiet him.</p> +<p>“He wasn’t impolite, Jack. It wasn’t that—only +I read in his eyes what he tried to hide. I only told +you that because I wanted you to understand me. +People here say that you give me everything but yourself; +that I’m not good enough for you except right +here where there’s nothing better.”</p> +<p>“That is a damned lie,” he expostulated. “Who +says it?”</p> +<p>“Only women-folks and gossipy grannies that you +can’t fight with, Jack,” she answered steadily. “But +I’ve thought about it lots. I’ve come to think, dear, +that maybe you ought to be free—and if you ought,” +she paused, then the final assertion broke from her +with an agonized voice, “then, I love you enough to +set you free.”</p> +<p>Spurrier seized her in his arms and his words came +choked with vehement feeling.</p> +<p>“I want you, Glory. I want you always and I +couldn’t live without you. When I have to go away I +endure it only by thinking of coming back to you. +If you ever set me free as you call it, it will be only +because <i>you</i> don’t want <i>me</i>. I suppose in that case I’d +try to take my medicine—but I think it would about +kill me.”</p> +<p>“There’s no danger of that, dear,” she declared.</p> +<p>The man drew away for a moment and fumbled +for words. His aptness of speech had deserted him +and at last he spoke clumsily:</p> +<p>“It’s hard to explain just now, when you’ve accused +me of not taking you into my confidence, but I stand +at a point, Glory, where I’ve got the hardest fight +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +ahead of me I ever made. I stand to be ruined or to +make good. I’ve got to use every minute and every +thought in competition with quick brains and enormous +power. Until its over I must be a machine +with one idea ... and I’ll fail, dear, unless I can +take with me the knowledge that you trust me.”</p> +<p>She looked up into his face and the misery in her +eyes gave place to confidence.</p> +<p>“Go ahead, Jack,” she said. “I believe in you and +I’m not even afraid of your failing.” After a moment +she clasped her arms tightly about him and +added vehemently: “But whether you succeed or fail, +come back to me, dear, because, except for your sake, +it won’t make any difference to me.”</p> +<p>That same afternoon Spurrier found time to visit +the “witch woman.” It had dawned upon him since +that night in the Senate chamber that, after all, Sim +Colby might have been the least dangerous of his +enemies, and the thought made him inquisitive.</p> +<p>The old crone made her magic with abundant grotesquerie, +but at its end she peered shrewdly into his +eyes, and said:</p> +<p>“I reads hyar in the omends thet mebby ye comes +too late.”</p> +<p>Spurrier smiled grimly. He thought that himself.</p> +<p>“I dis’arns,” went on the hag portentously, “thet a +blind man impereled ye mightily—a blind man thet +plays a fiddle—but thars others beside him thet dwells +fur away an’ holds a mighty power of wealth.”</p> +<p>A blind man! Spurrier’s remembrance flashed back +to the visit of blind Joe Givins and the papers incautiously +left on his table. Yet if he was genuinely +blind they could have meant nothing to him—and if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +he was not genuinely blind it was hard to conceive of +human nerves enduring without wincing that test of +the gun thrust against the temple.</p> +<p>Spurrier rose and paid his fee. Had he seen her +in time, this warning would have averted disaster. +Now it was something of a post-mortem.</p> +<p>At the door of Martin Harrison’s office several days +later Spurrier drew back his shoulders and braced +himself. It was impossible to ignore the fact that +he stood on the brink of total ruin; that his sole hope +lay in persuading his principal that with more time +and more money he would yet be able to succeed—and +Harrison was as plastic to persuasion as a brass +Buddha.</p> +<p>But he had steeled himself for the interview—and +now he turned the knob and swung back the mahogany +door.</p> +<p>Spurrier was familiar enough with the atmosphere +of that office to read the signs correctly. The hushed +air of nervousness that hung over it now betokened a +chief in a mood which no one sought to stir to further +irritation.</p> +<p>Always in the past Spurrier had been deferentially +ushered into a private office and treated as the future +chief. Now, as though he were already a disinherited +heir, he was left in the general waiting room, and he +was left there for an hour. That cooling of the +heel, he recognized as a warning of the cold reception +to come—and an augury of ruin.</p> +<p>At last he was called in, but he went with an unruffled +demeanor which hid from the principal’s eye +how near to breaking his inward confidence was +strained.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></div> +<p>“I wired you to come at once,” began Harrison +curtly, and Spurrier smiled as he nodded.</p> +<p>“I came at once, sir, except that I hadn’t been +home for some time, and it was necessary to make a +stop there.”</p> +<p>“Home,” Martin’s brows lifted a trifle. “You mean +the mountains.”</p> +<p>“Certainly—for the time being, I’m located there.”</p> +<p>“We may as well be honest with each other,” asserted +the magnate. “I consider that under the circumstances +you behaved with serious discourtesy and +without candor.” For a casual moment his glance +dwelt on the portrait of Vivien which stood on his +table.</p> +<p>“I disagree with you, sir. I preferred relating the +full circumstances, which were unusual, when there +was an opportunity to do so in person. I was kept +there by your interests as well as my own.”</p> +<p>“That recital,” said the older man dryly, “is your +concern. Now that I know the facts I find myself +uninterested in the details. You have chosen your +way. The question is whether we can travel it together.”</p> +<p>“And I presume that the first point of that question +demands a full report upon the business +operations.”</p> +<p>“So far as I can see, they have collapsed.”</p> +<p>“They have by no means collapsed.”</p> +<p>Suddenly the wrath that had been smoldering in +Harrison’s eyes burst into tempest. He brought his +clenched fist down upon his desk until inkwells and +accessories rattled.</p> +<p>This man’s moments of equinox were terrifying to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +those who must bow to his will—and his will held +sway over broad horizons. If John Spurrier had not +been intrepid he must have collapsed under the withering +violence of the passion that rained on him.</p> +<p>“Before God,” cried Harrison, <a name='TC_13'></a><ins title='Was pacink'>pacing</ins> his floor like +a lion that lashes itself to frenzy, “you undertook to +avenge me on Trabue. You have drawn on me with +carte-blanche liberties and spent fortunes like a prodigal! +You have assured me that you had, at all times, +the situation well in hand. Then, through some +damned blunder, you failed. Let the money loss slide. +Damn the money! I’m the laughingstock of the business +world. I’m delivered over to Trabue’s enjoyment +as a boob who failed. I’m an absurdity, and you’re +responsible!”</p> +<p>“When you’ve finished, sir,” said Spurrier quietly, +“I shall endeavor to show you that none of those +things have happened—that our failure is temporary +and that when you undertook this enterprise you were +in no impetuous haste as to the time of its accomplishment.”</p> +<p>“The legislature doesn’t meet for two years,” Harrison +barked back at him. “That will be two years +of preparation for Trabue. Now he’s fully warned, +where do we get off?”</p> +<p>“At our original point of destination, sir.”</p> +<p>The opportunity hound began his argument. His +demeanor of unruffled calm and entire confidence +began to exercise its persuasive force. Harrison +cooled somewhat, but Spurrier was fighting, beneath +his pose, as a man who has cramps in deep water +fights for his life. These few minutes would determine +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +his fate, and he was totally at the mercy of +this single arbiter.</p> +<p>“I have now all the options we need on the far +side of Hemlock Mountain,” Spurrier summarized at +last. “All except one tract which belongs to Bud +Hawkins, who is a preacher and a friend of mine. +He must have more generous terms, but I will be able +to do business with him.”</p> +<p>“You talk of the options on the far side of the +ridge,” Harrison broke in belligerently. “That is the +minor field.”</p> +<p>“I’ll be able to repeat that performance on the near +side.”</p> +<p>“You will not! A repetition of your performance +is the last thing we crave. Any movement now would +be only a piling up of warnings. For the present you +will give every indication of having abandoned the +project.”</p> +<p>“That is my idea, sir. I was not speaking of immediate +but future activities. Also——” In spite +of his desperation of plight the younger man’s bearing +flashed into a challenging undernote of its old +audacity, “when I used the word ‘repeat’ I referred +to the successful portion of my effort. There was no +failure on the land end. It was the charter that went +wrong—through the deceit of a man we had to trust.”</p> +<p>“A man whom you selected,” Harrison caught him +up. “You understood, in advance, the chances of your +game. It was agreed upon your own insistence that +your hand should be absolutely free—and freedom +of method carries exclusiveness of responsibility. +Traitors exist. They don’t furnish excuses.”</p> +<p>“Nor am I making them. I am merely stating facts +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +which you seem inclined to confuse. I grant the +failure but I also claim the partial success.”</p> +<p>Harrison seated himself, and as the interview +stretched Spurrier’s nerves stretched with it under the +placid surface of his plunger’s camouflage. He had, +as yet, no way of guessing how the verdict would go, +and now the capitalist’s face was hardened in discouragement. +It was a face of merciless inflexibility. The +sentence had been prepared in the judge’s mind. +There remained only its enunciation.</p> +<p>“Nothing is to be gained by mincing my words, +Spurrier,” declared Spurrier’s chief. “We know precisely +where you stand.”</p> +<p>Harrison extended his hand with its fingers spread +and closed it slowly into a clenched fist. “I hold +you—there! I can crush you to a pulp of absolute +ruin. You know that. The only question is whether +I want, or not, to do it.”</p> +<p>“And whether, or not, you can afford to do it,” +amended the other with an audacity that he by no +means felt. “You must decide whether you can afford +to accept tamely and as a final defeat, a mere reversal, +which I—and no one else—can turn into eventual +victory.”</p> +<p>“I have duly considered that. I had implicit confidence +in your abilities. You have struck at my +personal feeling for you by a silence that was not +frank. You have allied yourself with the mountain +people by marriage, and we stand on opposite sides of +the line of interest. You have all the while been +watched by our enemies, and I regard you as a defeated +man. If I choose to cast you aside, you go to +the scrap heap. You will never recover.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span></div> +<p>That was an assertion which there was neither +health nor wisdom in contradicting and Spurrier +waited. His last card was played.</p> +<p>“And I am going to cast you aside—bankrupt you—ruin +you!” blazed out Harrison, “unless you absolutely +meet my requirements during a period of probation. +That period will engage you in a very different matter. +For the present you are through with the Kentucky +mountains. The new task will be a difficult one, and +it should put you on your mettle. It is one that can’t +be accomplished at all unless you can do it. You have +that one chance to retrieve yourself. Take it or +leave it.”</p> +<p>“What are your terms?”</p> +<p>“You will sail to-morrow for Liverpool. I will give +you explicit instructions to-night. Go prepared for an +extended stay abroad.”</p> +<p>For the first time Spurrier’s face paled and insurrection +flared in his pupils.</p> +<p>“Sail for Europe to-morrow!” he exclaimed +vehemently. “I’ll see you damned first! Doesn’t it +occur to you that a man has his human side? I have +a wife and a home and when I am ordered to leave +them for an indefinite time I’m entitled to a breathing +space in which to set my own affairs in shape. I am +willing enough to undertake your bidding—but not +to-morrow.”</p> +<p>Spurrier paused at the end of his outbreak and +stood looking down at the seated figure, which to +all intents and purposes might have been the god that +held, for him, life and death in his hand.</p> +<p>And as he looked Spurrier thought he had never +seen such glacial coldness and merciless indifference +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +in any human face. He had known this man in the +thundering of passion before which the walls about +him seemed to tremble, but this manifestation of adamant +implacability was new, and he realized that he +had invited destruction in defying it.</p> +<p>“As you please,” replied Harrison crisply, “but it’s +to-morrow or not at all. I’ve already outlined the +alternative and since you refuse, our business seems +concluded. Next time you feel disposed to talk or +think of what you’re entitled to, remember that my +view is different. All your claims stand forfeit in +my judgment. You are entitled to just what I choose +to offer—and no more.”</p> +<p>The chief glanced toward the door with a glance +of dismissal, and the door became to Spurrier the emblem +of finality. Yet he did not at once move toward +it.</p> +<p>“I appreciate the need of prompt obedience, where +there is an urge of haste,” he persisted, “but if a few +days wouldn’t imperil results, I want those days to +make a flying trip to Kentucky and to my wife.”</p> +<p>The face of the seated man remained obdurately set +but his eyes blazed again with a note of personal anger.</p> +<p>“At a time when I was reasonably interested, you +chose to leave me unenlightened about your domestic +arrangements. Now I can claim no concern in +them. Most wives, however, permit their husbands +such latitude of movement as business requires. If +yours does not it is your own misfortune. I think +that’s all.”</p> +<p>Spurrier knew that the jaws of the trap were closing +on him. He had been too hasty in his outburst +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +and he turned toward the door, but as his hand fell +on the bronze knob Harrison spoke again.</p> +<p>“Think it over, Spurrier. I can—and will ruin you—unless +you yield. It is no time for maudlin sentiment, +but until five-thirty this afternoon, I shall not +consider your answer final. Up to that hour you +may reconsider it, if you wish.”</p> +<p>“I will notify you at five,” responded the lieutenant +as he let himself out and closed the door behind him.</p> +<p>That day the opportunity hound spent in an agony +of conflicting emotions. That the other held a bolt +of destruction and was in the mood to launch it he +did not pretend to doubt. If it were launched even +the land upon which his cottage stood would no longer +be his own. He must either return to Glory empty-handed +and bankrupt, or strain with a new tax, the +confidence he had asked of her, with the pledge that +he would return soon and for good.</p> +<p>But if, even at the cost of humbled pride and Glory’s +hurt, he maintained his business relations, the path to +eventual success remained open.</p> +<p>As long as the cards were being shuffled chance +beckoned and at five o’clock Spurrier went into a +cigar-store booth and called a downtown telephone +number.</p> +<p>“You hold the whip hand, sir,” he announced curtly +when a secretary had put Harrison on the wire. +“When do I report for final instructions?”</p> +<p>“Come to my house this evening,” ordered the +master.</p> +<p>Most of the hours of that evening, except the two +in Harrison’s study, Spurrier spent in writing to Glory, +tearing up letter after letter while the nervous moisture +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +bedewed his brow. It was so impossible to give +her any true or comprehensive explanation of the +pressing weight of compulsion. His messages must +have the limp of unreason. He was crossing the ocean +without her and she would read into it a sort of +abandonment that would hurt and wound her. He +had taxed everything else in life, and now he was +overtaxing her loyalty.</p> +<p>Yet he believed that if in his depleted treasury of +life there was one thing left upon which he could draw +prodigally and with faith, it was that love; a love +that would stand staunch though he were forced to +hurt it once again.</p> +<p>So Spurrier sailed and, having arrived on European +soil, took up the work that threw him into relations +with men of large caliber in Capel Court and Threadneedle +Street. His mission carried him to the continent +as well; from Paris to Brussels and from Brussels +to Hamburg and Berlin, where the quaint customs +of the Kentucky Cumberlands seemed as remote as +the life of Mars—remote but, to Spurrier, as alluring +as the thought of salvation to a recluse who has foresworn +the things of earth.</p> +<p>In terms of dead reckoning, Berlin is as far from +Hemlock Mountain as Hemlock Mountain is from +Berlin, but in terms of human relations Glory felt +the distance as infinitely greater than did her husband. +To him the Atlantic was only an ocean three thousand +miles wide; often crossed and discounted by familiarity. +To her it was a measureless waste separating +all she knew from another world. To him continental +dimensions were reckoned in hours of commonplace +railway journeying, but to her the “measured mile” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +was both lengthwise and perpendicular, and when she +passed old friends she fancied that she detected in +their glances either pity for her desertion or the smirk +of “I-told-you-so” malevolence.</p> +<p>It even crept to her ears that “some folks” spoke +of her as “the widder Spurrier” and that Tassie Plumford +had chuckled, “I reckon he’s done gone off an’ +left her fer good an’ all this time. Folks says he’s +fled away cl’ar acrost ther ocean-sea.”</p> +<p>Glory told herself that she had promised faith and +that she was in no danger of faltering, but as the +weeks lengthened into months and the months followed +each other, her waiting became bitter.</p> +<p>In Berlin John Spurrier passed as a British subject, +bearing British passports. That had been part +of the careful plan to prevent discovery of what +American interests he represented and it had proven +effective. He had almost accomplished the difficult +task of self-redemption, set him by the man whose confidence +he had strained.</p> +<p>Then came the bolt out of heaven. The inconceivable +suddenness of the war cloud belched and +broke, but he remained confident that he would have +a chance to finish up before the paralysis cramped +bourse and exchange.</p> +<p>England would not come in, and he, the seeming +British subject, would have safe conduct out of +Germany.</p> +<p>Now he must get back. This would mean the +soaring of oil prices, and along new lines the battle +must be pitched back there at home, before it was too +late.</p> +<p>So Spurrier finished his packing. He was going out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +onto the streets to watch the upflame of the war spirit +and to make railway reservations.</p> +<p>There was a knock at the door and the man opened +it. Stiffly erect, stood a squad of military police and +stiffly their lieutenant saluted.</p> +<p>“You are Herr John Spurrier?” he inquired.</p> +<p>The man nodded.</p> +<p>“It is, perhaps, in the nature of a formality, which +you will be able to arrange,” said the officer. “But I +am directed to place you under arrest. England is +in the war. You are said to be a former soldier.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX' id='CHAPTER_XX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +</div> +<p>Over the ragged lands that lay on the “nigh +side” of Hemlock Mountain breathed a spirit +of excitement and mighty hope. It had been +two years since John Spurrier had left the field he had +planned to develop, and in those years had come the +transition of rebirth.</p> +<p>Along muddy streets the hogs still wallowed, but +now they were deeply rutted by the teaming of ponderous +oil gear, and one saw young men in pith helmets +and pig-skin puttees; keen-faced engineers and oil +prospectors drawn in by the challenge of wealth from +the far trails of Mexico and the West. One heard the +jargon of that single business and the new vocabulary +of its devotees. “Wild-catters” following surface indications +or hunches were testing and well-driving. +Gushers rewarded some and “dry holes” and “dusters” +disappointed others. Into the mediæval life of hills +that had stood age-long unaltered and aloof came the +infusion of hot-blooded enterprise, the eager questing +after quick and miraculous wealth.</p> +<p>In Lexington and Winchester oil exchanges carried +the activity of small bourses. In newspapers a new +form of advertisement proclaimed itself.</p> +<p>Oil was king. Oil and its by-product, gasoline, that +the armies needed and that the thousands of engines +on the earth and in the air so greedily devoured.</p> +<p>But over on the far side of the ridge men only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +fretted and chafed as yet. They had the oil under +their feet, but for it there was no outlet. Like a land +without a seaport, they looked over at neighbors growing +rich while they themselves still “hurted fer needcessities.”</p> +<p>American Oil and Gas had locked them in while it +milked the other cow. It had its needed charters for +piping both fields, but a man who was either dead or +somewhere across the world held the way barred in +a stalemate of controlled rights of way.</p> +<p>Glory thought less about the wonderful things that +were going forward than did others about her, because +she had a broken heart. No letters came from +Spurrier, and the faith that she struggled to hold high +like a banner nailed to the masthead of her life, hung +drooping. In the end her colors had been struck.</p> +<p>If John Spurrier returned in search of her now +she would go into hiding from him, but it was most +unlikely that he would return. He had married her +on impulse and under a pressure of excitement. He +had loved her passionately—but not with a strong +enough fidelity to hold him true—and now she believed +he had turned back again to his old idols. She +was repudiated, and she ought to hate him with the +bitterness of her mountain blood, yet in her heart’s +core, though she would never forgive him and never +return to him, she knew that she still loved him and +would always love him.</p> +<p>She no longer feared that she would have hampered +him in the society of his more finished world. +She had visited Helen Merriwell and had come to +know that other world for herself. She found that +the gentle blood in her veins could claim its own +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +rights and respond graciously. Hers had been a submerged +aristocracy, but it had come out of its +chrysalis, bright-winged.</p> +<p>Then one day something happened that turned +Glory’s little personal world upside down and brought +a readjustment of all its ideas.</p> +<p>Sim Colby owned a little patch of land beside his +homestead place, over cross the mountain, and he was +among those who became rich. He was not so rich +as local repute declared him, but rich enough to set +stirring the avarice of an erstwhile friend, who owned +no land at all.</p> +<p>So ex-Private Severance came over to the deserter’s +house with a scheme conceived in envy and born of +greed. He was bent on blackmail.</p> +<p>When he first arrived, the talk ran along general +lines, because “Blind Joe,” the fiddler, was at the +house, and the real object of the visit was confidential. +Blind Joe had also been an oil beneficiary, and he and +Sim Colby had become partners in a fashion. During +that relationship Blind Joe had told Sim some things +that he told few others.</p> +<p>But when Joe left and the pipes were lighted Severance +settled himself in a back-tilted chair and gazed +reflectively at the crest of the timber line.</p> +<p>“You an’ me’s been partners for a right long spell, +Bud Grant, ain’t we?”</p> +<p>Colby started. The use of that discarded name +brought back the past with its ghosts of fear. He +had almost forgotten that once he had been Bud Grant, +and a deserter from the army. It was all part of a +bygone and walled-in long ago. Though they were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +quite alone he looked furtively about him and spoke +in a lowered voice:</p> +<p>“Don’t call me by thet name. Thar ain’t no man +but you knows erbout—what I used to be.”</p> +<p>“Thet’s what I’ve been studyin’ erbout. Nobody +else but me.”</p> +<p>Severance sat silent for a while after that announcement, +but there was a meaning smile on his lips, and +Colby paled a shade whiter.</p> +<p>“<i>I</i> reckon I kin trust ye; I always hev,” he declared +with a specious confidence.</p> +<p>Severance nodded. “I was on guard duty an’ I +suffered ye ter escape,” he went reminiscently on. “I +knows thet ye kilt Captain Comyn, an’ I’ve done kept +a close mouth all these years. Now ye’re a rich man +an’ I’m a pore one. Hit looks like ter me ye owes +me a debt an’ ye’d ought ter do a leetle something +for me.”</p> +<p>So that was it! Colby knew that if he yielded at +all, this man’s avarice and his importunities would +feed on themselves increasingly and endlessly. Yet +he dared not refuse, so he sought to temporize.</p> +<p>“I reckon thar’s right smart jestice in what ye says,” +he conceded, “but I don’t know jest yit how I stands +or how much money I’m wuth. Ye’ll have ter give +me a leetle time ter find out.”</p> +<p>But when Severance mounted his mule and rode +away, Sim Colby gave him only a short start and +then hurried on foot through the hill tangles by a short +cut that would intercept his visitor’s course.</p> +<p>He knew that Severance would have to ride through +the same gorge in which Sim had waylaid Spurrier, +and he meant to get there first, rifle-armed.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span></div> +<p>It was sunset when, quite unsuspecting of danger, at +least for the moment, Severance turned his mule into +the gorge. He was felicitating himself, since without +an acre of land or a drop of oil he had “declared himself +in” on another’s wealth. His mule was a laggard +in pace, and the rider did not urge him. He was content +to amble.</p> +<p>Back of the rock walls of the great cleft, the woods +lay hushed and dense in the closing shadows. An owl +quavered softly, and the water among the ferns whispered. +All else was quiet.</p> +<p>But from just a little way back, a figure hitched forward +as it lay belly-down in the “laurel hell.” It +sighted a rifle and pressed a finger.</p> +<p>The mule snorted and stopped dead with a flirt of +ears and tail and with no word, without even a groan, +the rider toppled sidewise and slid from the saddle.</p> +<p>The man back in the brush peered out. He noted +how still the crumpled figure lay between the feet of +the patient, mouse-colored beast, that switched at +flies with its tail. It lay twisted almost double with +one arm bent beneath its chest.</p> +<p>So Colby crept closer. It would be as well to haul +the body back into the tangle where it would not be +so soon discovered, and to start the beast along its +way with a slap on the flank.</p> +<p>But just as the assassin stooped, Severance’s right +hand darted out and, as it did so, there was a quick +glint of blue steel, and three instantly successive +reports.</p> +<p>Colby staggered backward with a sense of betrayal +and a horrible realization of physical pain. His rifle +dropped from a shattered hand and jets of blood broke +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +out through his rent clothing. Each of those three +pistol balls had taken effect at a range so close that he +had been powder-burned. He knew he was mortally +hurt, and that the other would soon be dead if he +was not so already.</p> +<p>Colby began crawling. He was mangled as if by +an explosion, but instinct drove him. Twice he fainted +and recovered dim consciousness and still dragged +himself tediously along.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Glory was alone in her house. Her father, who had +been living with her of late, had gone to the county +seat overnight.</p> +<p>The young woman sat in silence, and the sewing +upon which she had been busied lay in her lap forgotten. +In her eyes was the far-away look of one +who eats out one’s heart in thoughts that can neither +be solved nor banished.</p> +<p>Then she heard a faint call. It was hardly more +than a gasped whisper, and as she rose, startled, and +went to the door she saw striving to reach it a shape +of terrible human wreckage.</p> +<p>Sim Colby’s clothes were almost torn from him and +blood, dried brown, and blood freshly flowing, +mingled their ugly smears upon him. His lips were +livid and his face gray.</p> +<p>Glory ran to him with a horrified scream. She did +not yet recognize him, and he gasped out a plea for +whisky.</p> +<p>With the utmost effort of her young strength she +got him in, and managed to straighten out the mutilated +body with pillows under its head.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span></div> +<p>But after a little the stimulant brought a slight reviving, +and he talked in broken and disjointed phrases.</p> +<p>“Hit war Severance,” he mumbled. “I fought back—I +reckon I kilt him, too.”</p> +<p>Glory gazed in bewildered alarm about the house. +Brother Bud Hawkins was at Uncle Jimmy Litchfield’s +place, and she must get medical help, though she +feared that the wounded man would be dead before +her return.</p> +<p>When she came back with the preacher, who also +“healed human bodies some,” Colby was still alive +but near his passing.</p> +<p>“Ef thar’s aught on your conscience, Sim,” said +the old preacher gently, “hit’s time ter make yore peace +with Almighty God, fer ye’re goin’ ter stand afore +him in an hour more. Air ye ready ter face Him?”</p> +<p>The dying man looked up, and above the weakness +and the suffering that filled his eyes, showed a dominating +expression of terror. If ever a human being +needed to be shriven he thought it was himself.</p> +<p>They had to bend close to catch his feeble syllables, +as he said: “Git paper—write this down.”</p> +<p>The preacher obeyed, kneeling on the floor, and +though the words were few, their utterance required +dragging minutes, punctuated with breaks of silence +and gasping.</p> +<p>“Hit warn’t John Spurrier—thet kilt Captain +Comyn back tha’r in the Philippines.... I knows +who done hit——” He broke off there, and the girl +closed her hands over her face. “I sought ter kill +Spurrier—but I warn’t with them—thet attackted him +hyar—an’ wounded ther woman.”</p> +<p>Once more a long hiatus interrupted the recital and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +then the mangled creature went on: “Hit was ther +oil folks thet deevised thet murder scheme.”</p> +<p>The preacher was busily writing the record of this +death-bed statement and Glory stood pale and distraught.</p> +<p>The words “oil people” were ringing in her ears. +What connection could Spurrier have had with them: +what enmity could they have had for him?</p> +<p>But out of the confusion of her thoughts another +thing stood forth with the sudden glare of revelation. +This man might die before he finished and if he could +not tell all he knew, he must first tell that which would +clear her husband’s name. Though that husband had +turned his back on her, her duty to him in this matter +must take precedence over the rest.</p> +<p>“Joe Givins—” began Colby once more in laborious +syllables, but peremptorily the girl halted him.</p> +<p>“Never mind Joe Givins just now,” she commanded +with as sharp a finality as though to her had been +delegated the responsibility of his judgment. “You +said you knew who killed Captain Comyn. Who +was it?”</p> +<p>The eyes in the wounded and stricken face gazed up +at her in mute appeal as a sinner might look at a +father confessor, pleading that he be spared the bitterest +dregs of his admission.</p> +<p>Glory read that glance and her own delicate features +hardened. She leaned forward.</p> +<p>“I brought you in here and succored you,” she +asserted with a sternness which she could not have +commanded in her own behalf. “You’re going before +Almighty God—and unless you answer that question +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +honestly—no prayers shall go with you for forgiveness.”</p> +<p>“Glory!” The name broke in shocked horror from +the bearded lips of the preacher. “Glory, the mercy +of God hain’t ter be interfered with by mortals. +Ther man’s dying!”</p> +<p>Upon him the young woman wheeled with blazing +eyes.</p> +<p>“God calls on his servants for justice to the living +as well as mercy to the dying,” she declared. “Sim +Colby, who killed Captain Comyn?”</p> +<p>“I done hit,” came the unwillingly wrung confession. +“My real name’s Grant.... Severance aided +me.... Thet’s why I sought to kill Spurrier. I +deemed he war a huntin’ me down.”</p> +<p>“Now,” ordered the young woman, “what about +Joe Givins?”</p> +<p>Again a long pause, then: “Blind Joe Givins—only +he ain’t no blinder than me—read papers hyar—he +diskivered thet Spurrier was atter oil rights—he +tipped off ther oil folks—he war their spy all ther +time—shammin’ ter be blind——” There the speaker +struggled to breathe and let his head fall back with +the utterance incomplete. Five minutes later he was +dead.</p> +<p>“Hit don’t seem ter me,” said Brother Hawkins a +short time later, while Glory still stood in dazed and +trance-like wonderment, “es ef what he said kin be +true. Why ef hit be, John Spurrier was aimin’ ter +plunder us hyar all ther time! He was counselin’ us +ter sell out—an’ he was buyin’. I kain’t believe that.”</p> +<p>But Glory had drawn back to the wall of the room +and into her eyes had come a new expression. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +expression of one who must tear aside a veil and +know the truth, and who dreads what that truth +may be.</p> +<p>She had said that justice, no less than mercy, was +God’s command laid upon mortals. She had, almost +by the extremity of withholding from Colby his hope +of salvation until he spoke, won from him the declaration +which would give back to John Spurrier an unsmirched +name. Once Spurrier had said that was his +strongest wish in life. But now justice called again: +this time justice to her own people and perhaps it +meant the unveiling of duplicity in the man she had +married.</p> +<p>“Brother Hawkins,” she declared in a low but fervent +voice, “if it’s not true, it’s a slander that I can’t +let stand. If it <i>is</i> true, I must undo the wrong he’s +sought to do—if I can. Please wait.”</p> +<p>Then she was tearing at the bit of paneling that +gave access to the secret cabinet, and poring over +papers from a broken and rifled strong box.</p> +<p>There was the uncontrovertible record, clear writ, +and at length her pale face came up resolutely.</p> +<p>“I don’t understand it all yet,” she told the preacher. +“But he was buying. He bought everything that’s +been sold this side the ridge. He was seeking to influence +the legislature, too. I’ve got to talk to my +father.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>It was the next night, when old Dyke Cappeze had +ridden back from the county seat, that he sat under +the lamp in the room where Sim Colby had died, and +on the table before him were spread the papers that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +had lain unread so long in John Spurrier’s secret +cabinet.</p> +<p>Across from him sat Glory with her fingers spasmodically +clutched and her eyes riveted on his face as +he read and studied the documents, which at first he +had been loath to inspect without the permission of +their owner. He had been convinced, however, when +Glory had told the story of the dying confession and +had appealed to him for counsel.</p> +<p>“By what you tell me,” the old lawyer had summarized +at the end of her recital, “you forced from +this man his admission which cleared John Spurrier +of the charge that’s been hanging over him. You set +out to serve him and refused to be turned aside when +Colby balked.... But that confession didn’t end +there. It went on and besides clearing Jack in that +respect it seems to have involved him in another way. +You can’t use a part of a confession and discard the +balance. Perhaps we can serve him as well as others +best by going into the whole of the affair.”</p> +<p>So now Glory interrupted by no word or question, +despite her anxiety to understand and her hoping +against hope for a verdict which should leave John +Spurrier clean of record.</p> +<p>But if she refrained from breaking in on the study +that engrossed her father and wrinkled his parchment-like +forehead, she could not help reading the expression +of his eyes, the growing sternness and indignation +of his stiffening lips—and of drawing the moral +that when he spoke his words must be those of condemnation.</p> +<p>The strident song of the katydids came in through +the windows and the moon dropped behind the hill +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +crests before Dyke Cappeze spoke, and Brother Hawkins, +who was spending the night at that house, +smoked alone on the porch, unwilling to intrude on +the confidences that these two might wish to exchange.</p> +<p>Finally the lawyer folded the last paper and +looked up.</p> +<p>“Do you want the whole truth, little gal?” he inquired +bluntly. “How much do you still love this +man?”</p> +<p>Glory flushed then paled.</p> +<p>“I guess,” she said and her words were very low +and soft, “I’ll love him so long as I live—though I +hate myself for doing it. He wearied of me and +forgot me—but I can’t do likewise.”</p> +<p>Then her chin came up and her voice rang with a +quiet finality.</p> +<p>“But I want the truth ... the whole truth without +any softening.”</p> +<p>“Then as I see it, it’s simply this. A war was on +between two groups of financiers. American Oil and +Gas had held a monopoly and maintained a corrupt +control in the legislature that stifled competition. +That’s why the other oil boom failed. The second +group was trying to slip up on these corruptionists +and gain the control by a campaign of surprise. Jack +Spurrier appears to have been the ambassador of that +second group—and he seems to have failed.”</p> +<p>The wife nodded. Even yet she unconsciously held +a brief for his defense.</p> +<p>“So far as you’ve gone,” she reminded her father, +“you show him to have been what is commonly called +a ‘practical business man’—but no worse than the +men he fought.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span></div> +<p>Cappeze bowed his head gravely and his next words +came reluctantly. “So far, yes. Of course he could +have done none of the things he did had he not first +won the confidence of those poor ignorant folk that +are our neighbors and our friends. Of course it was +because they believed in him and followed his counsel +that they sold their birthrights to men with whom he +pretended to have no connection—and yet who took +their orders from him.”</p> +<p>“Then,” Glory started, halted and leaned forward +with her hands against her breast and her utterance +was the monotone of a voice forced to a hard question: +“Then what I feared was true? He lived +among us and made friends of us—only to rob us?”</p> +<p>“If by ‘us’ you mean the mountain people, I fear +me that’s precisely what he did. I can see no other +explanation. Which ever of these two groups won +meant to exploit and plunder us.”</p> +<p>For a little she made no answer, but the delicate +color of her cheeks was gone to an ivory whiteness +and the violet eyes were hardening.</p> +<p>“Perhaps we oughtn’t to judge him too harshly +for these things,” said the father comfortingly. “The +scroll of my bitterness against him is already heavy +enough and to spare. He has broken your heart and +that’s enough for me. As to the rest there are many +so-called honorable gentlemen who are no more scrupulous. +We demand clean conduct here in these +hills,” a fierce bitterness came into his words, “but +then we are ignorant, backwoods folk! There are +many intricate ins and outs to this business and I don’t +presume to speak with absolute conclusiveness yet.”</p> +<p>Outside the katydids sang their prophecies of frost +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +to come and an owl hooted. Glory Spurrier sat staring +ahead of her and at last she said aloud, in that +tone which one uses when a thought finds expression, +unconscious that it has been vocal: “So he won our +faith—with his clear eyes and his honest smile—only +to swindle and rob us!”</p> +<p>“My God, if I were a younger man,” broke out the +father passionately, rising from his chair and clenching +the damaging papers in his talon-like fingers, “I’d +learn the oil game. I’d take this information and use +it against both their gangs—and I believe I could +force them both to their knees.”</p> +<p>He paused and the momentary fire died out of his +eyes.</p> +<p>“I’m too old a dog for new tricks though,” he added +dejectedly, “and there’s no one else to do it.”</p> +<p>“How could it be done?” demanded Glory rousing +herself from her trance. “Between them they +hold all the power, don’t they?”</p> +<p>“As far as I can make out,” Cappeze explained +with the interest of the legalistic mind for tackling +an abstruse problem, “Spurrier had completed his +arch as to one of his two purposes—all except its +keystone. He had yet to gain a passage way through +Brother Hawkins’ land. With that he would have +held the completed right-of-way—and it’s the only +one. The other gang of pirates hold the ability to get +a charter but no right of way over which to use it. +Now the man who could deliver Brother Hawkins’ +concession would have a key. He could force Spurrier’s +crowd to agree to almost anything, and with +Spurrier’s crowd he could wring a compromise from +the others. Bud Hawkins is like the delegate at a convention +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +who can break a deadlock. God knows I’d +love to tackle it—but it’s too late for me.”</p> +<p>Glory had come to her feet, and stood an incarnation +of combat.</p> +<p>“It’s not too late for me,” she said quietly. “Perhaps +I’m too crude to go into John Spurrier’s world +of cultivated people but I’m shrewd enough to go +into his world of business!”</p> +<p>“You!” exclaimed the father in astonishment, then +after a moment an eager light slowly dawned in his +eyes and he broke out vehemently: “By God in +Heaven, girl, I believe you’re the man for the job!”</p> +<p>“Call Brother Hawkins in,” commanded Glory. +“We need his help.”</p> +<p>Before he reached the door old Cappeze turned on +his heel.</p> +<p>“Glory,” he said, “we’ve need to move out of this +house and go back to my place. Here we’re dwelling +under a dishonest roof.”</p> +<p>“I’m going to leave it,” she responded quickly, “but +I’m going farther away than that. I’m going to study +oil and I’m going to do it in the Bluegrass lowlands.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI' id='CHAPTER_XXI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +</div> +<p>John Spurrier stepped from the train at Carnettsville +into a life that had been revolutionized. +At last he had succeeded in leaving his German +exile. His own country was in the war but he, with the +equipment of a soldier, bore a dishonored name, which +would bar him from a commission. Here he found +the development of his dreams realized, but by other +hands than his own.</p> +<p>Above all, he must see Glory. He had cabled her +and written her, so she would be expecting him. Now +he gazed about streets through which teemed the new +activity.</p> +<p>Here was the thing he had seen in his dreams when +he stood on wooded hills and thought in the terms +of the future. Here it stood vivid and actual before +the eyes that had visioned it.</p> +<p>With a groan he turned into the road homeward on +a hired horse. He still meant to fight, and unless the +Bud Hawkins property had escaped him, he would +still have to be accounted with—but great prizes had +slipped away.</p> +<p>At the gate of his house, his heart rose into his +throat. The power of his emotion almost stifled him. +Never had his love for Glory flickered. Never had he +thought or dreamed of anything else or any one else +so dearly and so constantly as of her.</p> +<p>He stood at the fence with half-closed eyes for a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +moment, steadying himself against the surges of up-welling +emotion, then, raising his eyes, he saw that +the windows and the door were nailed up. The chimney +stood dead and smokeless.</p> +<p>Panic clutched at his throat as with a physical grasp. +Before him trooped a hundred associations unaccountably +dear. They were all memories of little +things, mostly foolish little things that went into the +sacred intimacy of his life with Glory.</p> +<p>Now there was no Glory there.</p> +<p>He rode at the best speed left in his tired horse over +to old Cappeze’s house, and, as he dismounted, saw +the lawyer, greatly aged and broken, standing in the +door.</p> +<p>One glance at that face confirmed all the fears with +which he had been battling. It was a face as stern as +those on the frieze of the prophets. In it there was +no ghost of the old welcome, no hope of any relenting. +This old man saw in him an enemy.</p> +<p>“Where is Glory?” demanded Spurrier as he hurried +up to the doorstep, and the other looked accusingly +back into his eyes and answered in cold and bitterly +clipped syllables.</p> +<p>“Wherever she is, sir, it’s her wish to be there +alone.” Suddenly the old eyes flamed and the old +voice rose thin and passionate. “If I burned in hell +for it to the end of eternity, I would give you no +other word of her.”</p> +<p>“She—she is not dead, then?”</p> +<p>“No—but dead to you.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Cappeze,” said Spurrier steadily, “are you +sure that I may not have explanations that may change +her view of me?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span></div> +<p>“We know,” said the lawyer in a voice out of which +the passion had passed, but which had the dead quality +of an opinion inflexibly solidified, “that since +your marriage, you never made her the companion of +any hour that was not a backwoods hour. We know +that you never told us the truth about yourself or your +enterprises—that you came to us as a friend, won our +confidence, and sought to exploit us. Your record is +one of lies and unfaithfulness, and we have cast you +out. That is her decision and with me her wish is +sacred.”</p> +<p>The returned exile stood meeting the relentless eyes +of the old man who had been his first friend in these +hills and for a few moments he did not trust himself +to speak.</p> +<p>The shock of those shuttered windows and that +blankly staring front at the house where he had looked +for welcome; the collapse of all the dreams that +had sustained him while a prisoner in an internment +camp and a refugee hounded across the German border +were visiting upon him a prostration that left him +trembling and shaken.</p> +<p>Finally he commanded his voice.</p> +<p>“To me, too, her wish is sacred—but not until I hear +it from her own lips. She alone has the right to +condemn me and not even she until I have made my +plea to her. Great God, man, my silence hasn’t been +voluntary. I’ve been cut off in a Hun prison-camp. +I’ve kept life in me only because I could dream of her +and because though it was easier to die, I couldn’t die +without seeing her and explaining.”</p> +<p>“It was from her own lips that I took my orders,” +came the unmoved response. “Those orders were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +that through me you should learn nothing. You had +the friendship of every man here until you abused it—now +I think you’ll encounter no sympathy. I told +you once how the wolf-bitch would feel toward the +man who robbed her of her young. You chose to disregard +my warning—and I’ll ask you to leave my +house.”</p> +<p>John Spurrier bowed his head. He had lost her! +If that were her final conclusion, he could hardly seek +to dissuade her. At least he could lose the final happiness +out of his life—from which so much else had already +been lost—as a gentleman should lose.</p> +<p>And he knew that however old Cappeze might feel, +he would not lie. If he said that was Glory’s deliberately +formed decision, that statement must be accepted +as true.</p> +<p>“I have never loved any one else,” said Spurrier +slowly. “I shall never love any one else. I have been +faithful despite appearances. The rest of your charges +are true, and I make no denial. I gambled about as +fairly as most men gamble. That is all.”</p> +<p>A stiffening pride, made flinty by the old man’s hostility, +shut into silence some things that Spurrier +might have said. He scorned the seeming of whine +that might have lain in explanations, even though the +explanations should lighten the shadow of his old +friend’s disapproval. He offered no extenuation and +breathed nothing of the changes that had been +wrought in himself by the tedious alchemy of time and +reflection.</p> +<p>He had begun under the spur of greedy ambition, +but changes had been wrought in him by Glory’s love.</p> +<p>He was still ambitious, but in a different way. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +wanted to salvage something for the equitable beneficiaries. +He wanted to stand, not among the predatory +millionaires, but to be his own man, with a clean +name and solvent.</p> +<p>Before he could attain that condition he must render +unto Harrison the things that were Harrison’s +and wipe out his own tremendous liabilities—but his +heart was in the hills.</p> +<p>John Spurrier went slowly and heavy heartedly +back to the house which he had refashioned for his +bride; the house that had become to him a shrine to +all the dear, lost things of life.</p> +<p>The sun fell in mottled luminousness across its +face of tempered gray and from the orchard where +the lush grass grew knee-high came the cheery whistle +of a Bob-white.</p> +<p>At the sound the man groaned with a wrench of his +heart and throat, and his thoughts raced back to that +day when the same note had come from the voices of +hidden assassins and when Glory had exposed her +breast to rifle-fire to send out the pigeon with its call +for help.</p> +<p>The splendid oak that had shaded their stile had +grown broader of girth and more majestic in the +spread of its head-growth since he had stood +here before, and in the flower beds, in which Glory +had delighted, a few forlorn survivors, sprung up as +volunteers from neglected roots, struggled through a +choke of dusty weeds.</p> +<p>The man looked about the empty yard and his +breath came like that of a torture victim on the rack. +The desolation and ache of a life deprived of all that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +made it sweet struck in upon him with a blight beside +which his prison loneliness had been nothing.</p> +<p>“If she knew the whole truth—instead of only half +the truth,” he groaned, “she might forgive me.”</p> +<p>He ripped the padlock from the door and let himself +in. He flung wide a shutter and let the afternoon +sun flood the room, and once inside a score of little +things worked the magic of memory upon him and +tore afresh every wound that was festering.</p> +<p>There hung the landscapes that he and she had +loved and as he looked at them her voice seemed to +sound again in his ears like forgotten music. From +somewhere came the heavy fragrance of honeysuckle +and old nights with her in the moonlight rushed back +upon him.</p> +<p>Then he saw an apron on a peg—hanging limp and +empty, and again he saw her in it. He went and +opened a drawer in which his own clothes had been +kept—and there neatly folded by her hand were things +of his.</p> +<p>John Spurrier, whose iron nerve had once been café +talk in the Orient, sat down on a quilted bed and tearless +sobs racked him.</p> +<p>“No,” he said to himself at last. “No, if she wants +her freedom I can’t pursue her. I’ve hurt her enough—and +God knows I’m punished enough.”</p> +<p>Unless he were tamely to surrender to the despair +that beset him, John Spurrier had one other thing to +do before he left the hills. He must come to such an +agreement with Bud Hawkins as would give him a +right of way over that single tract and complete his +chain of holdings. Thus fortified the field beyond +the ridge would be safe against invasion by his enemies +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +and even the other field would have readier outlet +to market by that route. In the Hawkins property +lay the keystone of the arch. With it the position was +impregnable. Without it all the rest fell apart like an +inarticulated skeleton.</p> +<p>It happened that Spurrier met Hawkins as he went +away from his lonely house, and forcing his own miseries +into the background, he sought to become the +business man once more. He began with a frank +statement of the facts and offered fair and substantial +terms of trade.</p> +<p>Both because his affection for the old preacher +would have tolerated nothing less and because it would +have been folly now to play the cheaper game, he +spoke in the terms of generosity.</p> +<p>But to his surprise and discomfiture, Brother Hawkins +shook a stubborn head.</p> +<p>“Thar ain’t skeercely no power on ’arth, Mr. Spurrier,” +he declared, “thet could fo’ce me inter doin’ no +business with ye.”</p> +<p>“But, Brother Hawkins,” argued the opportunity +hound, “you are cutting your own throat. You and I +standing together are invincible. Separate, we are +lost. I’m almost willing to let you name the terms of +agreement—to write the contract for yourself.”</p> +<p>“I’ve done been pore a right long while already,” +the preacher reminded him as his eyes kindled with +the zealot’s fire. “Long afore my day Jesus Christ +was pore an’ ther Apostle Paul, an’ other righteous +men. I ain’t skeered ter go on in likewise ter what +I’ve always done.” He paused and laid a kindly hand +on the shoulder of the man who offered him wealth.</p> +<p>“I ain’t seekin’ ter fault ye unduly, John Spurrier. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +Mebby ye’ve done follered yore lights—but we don’t +see with no common eye, ner no mutual disc’arnment. +Ye’ve done misled folk thet swore by ye, ef I sees hit +a’right. Now ye offers me wealth, much ther same as +Satan offered hit ter Jesus on a high place, an’ we +kain’t trade—no more then what they could trade.”</p> +<p>The old preacher’s attitude held the trace of kindliness +that sought to drape reproof in gentleness and to +him, as had been impossible with Cappeze, Spurrier +poured out his confidence. At the outset, he confessed, +he had deliberately dedicated himself to the +development of wealth for himself and his employers, +with no thought of others. Later, in a fight between +wary capitalists where vigilance had to be met with +vigilance, the seal of secrecy had been imperative. +Frankness with the mountain men would have been a +warning to his enemies. Now, however, his sense of +responsibility was awake. Now he wanted to win +back his status of confidence in this land where he +had known his only home. Now what weight he had +left to throw into the scales would be righteously +thrown. Even yet he must move with strict, guarded +secrecy.</p> +<p>But the old circuit rider shook his head.</p> +<p>“Hit’s too late, now, ter rouse faith in me, John,” +he reiterated. “Albeit I’d love ter credit ye, ef so-be +I could. What’s come ter pass kain’t be washed out +with words.” He paused before he added the simple +edict against which there was no arguing.</p> +<p>“Mebby I mout stand convinced even yit ef I didn’t +know thet ther devil was urgin’ me on with prospects +of riches.”</p> +<p>One thing remained to him; the pride that should +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +stiffen him in the presence of his accusers and judges. +When he went into the eclipse of ruin, at least he +would go with unflinching gallantry.</p> +<p>And it was in that mood that Spurrier reached his +club in New York and prepared himself for the ordeal +of the next day’s interview.</p> +<p>He had wired Harrison of his coming, but not of +his hopelessness, and when his telephone jangled and +he heard the voice of the financier, he recognized in it +an undercurrent of exasperation, which carried omen +of a difficult interview.</p> +<p>“That you, Spurrier? This is Harrison. Be at my +office at eleven to-morrow morning. Perhaps you can +construe certain riddles.”</p> +<p>“Of what nature, sir?”</p> +<p>“Of a nature that won’t bear full discussion over +the wire. We have had an anonymous letter from +some mysterious person who claims to come with the +situation in a sling. It may be a crank whom we’ll +have to throw out—or some one we dare not ignore. +At all events, it’s up to you to dispose of him. He’s in +your province. If you fail, we lose out and, as I +said once before, you go to the scrap heap.”</p> +<p>Spurrier hung up the phone and sat in a nerveless +trepidation which was new and foreign to his nature. +This interview of to-morrow morning would call for +the tallest bluffing he had ever attempted, and the +chances would, perhaps, turn on hair-trigger elements +of personal force.</p> +<p>He must depend on his coolness, audacity, and +adroitness to win a decision, and, except by guesswork, +he could not hope to formulate in advance the terrain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +of battle or the nature of counter-attack with which +he must meet his adversary.</p> +<p>That evening he strolled along Broadway and found +himself yielding to a dangerous and whimsical mood. +He wondered how many other men outwardly as self-assured +and prosperous as himself were covertly confessing +suicide as one of to-morrow’s probabilities.</p> +<p>Over Longacre Square the incandescent billboards +flamed and flared. The darning-wool kitten disported +itself with mechanical abandon. The woman who +advertised a well-known corset and the man who exploited +a brand of underwear brilliantly made and +unmade their toilets far above the sidewalk level. +Motors shrieked and droned and crowds drifted.</p> +<p>Before a moving-picture theater, his introspective +eye was momentarily challenged by a gaudy three-sheet. +The poster proclaimed a popular screen star +in a “fight fuller of punch than that of ‘The Wreckers.’”</p> +<p>What caused Spurrier to pause was the composition +of the picture—and the mental comparison which +it evoked. A man crouched behind a heavy table, +overthrown for a barricade—as he had once done.</p> +<p>Fallen enemies lay on the floor of a crude Western +cabin. Others still stood, and fought with flashing +guns and faces “registering” desperation, frenzy, and +maniac fury. The hero only, though alone and outnumbered, +was grimly calm. The stress of that inferno +had not interfered with the theatric pose of head +and shoulders—the grace and effect of gesture that +was conveyed in the two hands wielding two smoking +pistols.</p> +<p>Spurrier smiled. It occurred to him that had a director +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +stood by while he himself had knelt behind a +table he would have bawled out many amendments +which fact had overlooked. Apparently he and his +attackers had, by these exacting standards of art, +missed the drama of the situation.</p> +<p>Over him swept a fresh flood of memory, and it +brought a cold and nervous dampness to his temples. +Again he saw Glory rising at the broken window with +a pigeon to release—and a life to sacrifice, if need be. +On her face had been no theatric expression which +would have warranted a close-up.</p> +<p>Spurrier hastened on, turning into a side street +where he could put the glare at his back and find a +more mercifully dark way.</p> +<p>He was seeing, instead of dark house fronts, the +tops of pine trees etched against an afterglow, and +Glory standing silhouetted against a hilltop. Above +the grind of the elevated and the traffic, he was hearing +her voice in thrushlike song, happy because he +loved her.</p> +<p>The agony of loss overwhelmed him, and he actually +longed, as for a better thing, for that moment to +come back when behind an overturned table he had +endured the suspense which death had promised to end +in an instant filled and paid for with revenge.</p> +<p>Then through his disturbed brain once more flashed +lines of verse:</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“I was ever a fighter, so—one fight more,</p> +<p class='indent2'>The best and the last!</p> +<p>I should hate that Death bandaged my eyes and forebore,</p> +<p class='indent2'>And bade me creep past.”</p> +</div></div> +<p>At all events he would, in the figurative sense, die +fighting to-morrow. He knew his mistakes now. If +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span> +he lived on he hoped to atone for them, but if he died +he would go out without a whine.</p> +<p>And if he must die, there was one way that seemed +preferable to others. The army would have none of +him, as an officer, because he stood besmirched of +honor. But he knew the stern temper of the mountaineers. +They would rise in unanimous response to +the call of arms. He could go with them, not with +any insignia on his collar, but marching shoulder +against shoulder into that red hell of Flanders and +France, where a man might baptize himself, shrive +himself, and die. And in dying they would leave a +record behind them!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII' id='CHAPTER_XXII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +</div> +<p>Down along the creekbeds back of Hemlock +Mountain young Jimmy Litchfield, a son of +old Uncle Jimmy, had been teaming with a +well-boring outfit and his wagon had bogged down +in deep mud. He had failed to extricate himself so +he tramped three hard, steep miles and telephoned for +an extra team. While he awaited deliverance he +found himself irked and, to while away the time, set +his drill down haphazard and began to bore.</p> +<p>It would be some hours before help arrived, and +when he had worked a while he had forgotten all +about help.</p> +<p>His drill had struck through soft gravel to an oil +pool lying close to the surface, and the black tide +gushed crazily.</p> +<p>Young Jimmy sat back watching the dark jet that +he had no means of stemming or containing, and +through his simple soul flowed all the intoxication of +triumph.</p> +<p>He was the discoverer of a new—and palpably a +rich field!</p> +<p>Hereafter oil men would speak of the Snake Creek +field as copper men spoke of Anaconda or gold men +of the Yukon.</p> +<p>And that night word went by wire to the opportunity +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +hound who had just gone east, that the “fur” +side was to the “nigh” side as gold is to silver.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“What do you make of it?” demanded Harrison, +when Spurrier, secure in his seeming of undaunted +assurance, arrived at his office and the response came +smilingly: “I think it means a bluff.”</p> +<p>“Read that,” snapped the financier as he flung a letter +across his desk.</p> +<p>Spurrier took the sheet of paper and read in a hand, +evidently disguised!</p> +<blockquote> +<p>You find yourself in a cul-de-sac. I hold the key to a +way out. My terms are definite and determined in advance. +I shall be at your office at noon, Tuesday. We will do business +at that time, or not at all.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“I repeat,” said Spurrier, “that this seems to me a +brass-bound bluff. I make only the request that I be +permitted to talk with this brigand alone; to sound +him out with no interference and to shape my policy +by the circumstances. I’m not at all frightened.”</p> +<p>Harrison answered snappily:</p> +<p>“I agree to that—but if you fail you fail finally.”</p> +<p>So on Tuesday forenoon Spurrier sat cross-legged +in Harrison’s office and their discussion had come to +its end. Now, he had only to await the unknown +person who was to arrive at noon bearing alleged +terms, a person who claimed to be armed for battle +if battle were needed.</p> +<p>At Harrison’s left and right sat his favored lieutenants, +but Spurrier himself occupied a chair a little +bit apart, relegated to a zone of probation.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span></div> +<p>Then a rap sounded on the door, and Spurrier +smiled with a ghost of triumph as he noted that he +alone of the small group did not start at the signal. +For all their great caliber and standing, these men +were keyed to expectancy and exasperated nervousness.</p> +<p>The clerk who appeared made his announcement +with the calculated evenness of routine: “A lady is +waiting. She says her name doesn’t matter. She has +an appointment for twelve.”</p> +<p>“A lady!” exclaimed Harrison in amazement. “My +God, do we have to fight this thing out with a +woman?”</p> +<p>The tableau of astonishment held, until Spurrier +broke it:</p> +<p>“What matter <a name='TC_12'></a><ins title='Was personalties'>personalities</ins> to us?” he blandly inquired. +“We are interested in facts.”</p> +<p>The chief lifted his hand and gave curt direction. +“Show her in.”</p> +<p>Then through the door came a woman whose beauty +would have arrested attention in any gathering. Just +now what these men, rising grudgingly from their +chairs, noted first, was the self-possession, the poise, +and the convincing evidence of good breeding and +competency which characterized her.</p> +<p>She was elegantly but plainly dressed, and her manner +conveyed a self-assurance in nowise flustered by +the prospect of impending storm.</p> +<p>No one there, save Spurrier, recognized her, for to +Martin Harrison carrying the one disapproving impression +of a mountain girl in patched gingham, the +transformation was complete.</p> +<p>And as for Spurrier himself, after coming to his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +feet, he stood as a man might be expected to stand if +a specter of death had suddenly materialized before +him.</p> +<p>For the one time in his life all the assumption of +boldness, worn for other eyes, broke and fell away +from him, leaving him nakedly and starkly dumbfounded. +He presented the pale and distressed aspect +of a whipped prize fighter, reeling groggily +against the ropes, and defenseless against attack.</p> +<p>It was a swift transformation from audacious +boldness to something which seemed abject, or that +at least was the aspect which presented itself to Martin +Harrison and his aides, but back of it all lay reasons +into which they could not see.</p> +<p>It was no crumbling and softening of battle metal +that had wrought this astonishing metamorphosis but +a thing much nearer to the man’s heart. At that moment +there departed from his mind the whole urgent +call of the duel between business enemies—and he +saw only the woman for whom he had sought and +whom he had not found.</p> +<p>In the cumulative force and impact of their heart-breaking +sequence there rushed back on him all the +memories that had been haunting him, intensified to +unspeakable degree at the sight of her face—and if +he thought of the business awaiting them at all, it was +only with a stabbing pain of realization that he had +met Glory again only in the guise of an enemy.</p> +<p>Harrison gave him one contemptuous glance and +remarked brutally:</p> +<p>“Madam, this gentleman was to talk with you, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span> +he seems scarcely able to conduct any affair of moment.”</p> +<p>Glory was looking at the broken man, too, and into +her splendid eyes stole a pity that had tenderness back +of it.</p> +<p>Old memories came in potent waves, and she closed +her lids for a moment as though against a painful +glare, but with quick recovery she spoke.</p> +<p>“It is imperative, gentlemen, that I have a few +words first—and alone—with Mr. Spurrier.”</p> +<p>“If you insist, but——” Harrison’s shoulders stiffened. +“But we do not guarantee that we shall abide +by his declarations.”</p> +<p>“I do insist—and I think you will find that it is I +who am in the position to dictate terms.”</p> +<p>Harrison gave a sharply imperative gesture toward +the door through which the others filed out, followed +by the chief himself, leaving the two alone.</p> +<p>Then John Spurrier rose, and supported himself by +hands pressed upon the table top. He stood unsteadily +at first and failed in his effort to speak. Then, +with difficulty, he straightened and swept his two +hands out in a gesture of surrender.</p> +<p>“I’m through,” he said. “I thought there was still +one fight left in me—but I can’t fight you.”</p> +<p>She did not answer and, after a little, with a slight +regaining of his self-command, he went on again:</p> +<p>“Glory! What a name and what a fulfillment! +You have always been Glory to me.”</p> +<p>Out of his eyes slowly went the apathy of despair +and another look of even stronger feeling preëmpted +its place: a look of worship and adoration.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span></div> +<p>“I didn’t know,” admitted Glory softly, “that I was +to meet you here. I didn’t know that the fight was +to be between us.”</p> +<p>“You have ruined me,” he answered. “I’m a sinking +ship now, and those rats out there will leave me—but +it’s worth ruin to see you again. I want you to +take this message with you and remember it. All my +life I’ve gambled hard and fought hard. Now I +fail hard. I lost you and deserved to lose you, but +I’ve always loved you and always shall.”</p> +<p>Her eyes grew stern, repressing the tenderness and +pity that sought to hold them soft.</p> +<p>“You abandoned me,” she said. “You sought to +plunder my people. I took up their fight, and I shall +win it.”</p> +<p>Spurrier came a step toward her and spread his +hands in a gesture of surrender, but he had recovered +from the shock that had so unnerved him a few minutes +ago and there was now a certain dignity in his +acceptance of defeat.</p> +<p>“I break my sword across my knee,” he declared, +“and since I must do it, I’m glad you are the victor. +I won’t ask for mercy even from you—but when you +say I abandoned you, you are grievously wrong.</p> +<p>“When you say I sought to plunder your people, you +speak the truth about me—as I was before I came to +love you. From that time on I sought to serve your +people.”</p> +<p>“Sought to serve them?” she repeated in perplexity, +“The record shows nothing of that.”</p> +<p>“And since the record doesn’t,” he answered steadily, +“any assertions and protestations would be without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +proof. I’ve told you, because my heart compelled +me. I won’t try to convince you. At all events, since +I failed, my motives don’t matter.”</p> +<p>“Your motives are everything. I took up the fight,” +she said, “because I thought a Spurrier had wronged +them. I wanted a Spurrier to make restitution.”</p> +<p>“At first I saw only the game, dear heart,” he confessed, +“never the unfairness. I’m ready to pay the +price. Ruin me—but in God’s name, believe that I +love you.”</p> +<p>Her hand came out waveringly at that, and for a +moment rested on his shoulder with a little gesture of +tenderness.</p> +<p>“I thought I hated you,” she said. “I tried to hate +you. I’ve dedicated myself to my people and their +rights—but if you trust me enough, call them in and +let me talk with them.”</p> +<p>“Trust you enough!” he exclaimed passionately, +then he caught her to him, and, when he let her go, he +stood again transformed and revivified into the man +he had seemed before she appeared in the doorway. +It was as though the touch of her lips had given him +the fire from which he rose phœnixlike.</p> +<p>With an unhesitant step he went to the door and +opened it, and the men who had gone out trooped +back and ranged themselves again about the table.</p> +<p>“Mr. Spurrier did all in your interests that a man +could do,” said Glory. “He failed to secure your +charter and he failed to secure the one tract that serves +as the key. I am a mountain woman seeking only to +protect my people. I hold that tract as trustee for Bud +Hawkins. I mean to do business, but only at a fair +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span> +price. It’s for you to determine whether I deal with +you or your competitors.”</p> +<p>A look of consternation spread over the faces of +the lesser men, but Harrison inquired with a grim +smile:</p> +<p>“Madam, haven’t I seen you somewhere before to-day?”</p> +<p>“Once before—down in the hills.”</p> +<p>“Then you are this man’s wife! Was this dramatic +incident prearranged between you?”</p> +<p>She raised an imperative hand, and her voice admitted +no question of sincerity.</p> +<p>“Make no such mistake. Mr. Spurrier knew nothing +of this. He was loyal enough—to you. From +him I never even learned the nature of his business. +Without his knowledge <i>I</i> was loyal to my people.”</p> +<p>Then for ten minutes she talked clearly, forcefully, +and with the ring of indubitable sincerity giving fire +to voice and manner. She told of the fight she and +her father had made to keep heart in mountain folk, +enraged by what they believed to be the betrayal by a +man they had trusted and attacked by every means +of coercion at the disposal of American Oil and Gas.</p> +<p>She told of small local reservoirs, mysteriously +burned by unknown incendiaries; of neighborhood +pipe lines cut until they spilled out their wealth again +into the earth; of how she herself had walked these +lines at night, watching against sabotage.</p> +<p>As she talked with simple directness and without +self-vaunting, they saw her growing in the trust of +these men whose wrath had been, in the words of old +Cappeze, “Like that of the wolf-bitch robbed a second +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span> +time of her whelps.” They recognized the faith that +had commissioned her to speak as trustee, and to act +with carte-blanche powers.</p> +<p>Harrison and his subordinates were not susceptible +men, easily swayed by a dramatic circumstance, so +they cross-examined and heckled her with shrewd and +tripping inquiries, until she reminded them that she +had not come as a supplicant, but to lay before them +terms, which they would, at their peril, decline to accept.</p> +<p>The realization was strong in them that she had +spoken only the truth when she declared that she held +the key. When they were convinced that she realized, +in full, the strength of her position, they had no wish +to antagonize longer.</p> +<p>The group of financiers drew apart, but after a brief +consultation Harrison came forward and offered his +hand.</p> +<p>“Mrs. Spurrier,” he announced crisply, “we have +gone too far to draw back. After all, I think you +come rather as a rescue party than an attacker. Spurrier, +you have married a damned brilliant woman.”</p> +<p>Glory accepted the extended hand of peace, and +Harrison, with a jerk of his head to the door, led +his followers out, leaving them alone again.</p> +<p>Then Glory held out her arms, and into the bright +depths of her eyes flashed the old bewitching merriment.</p> +<p>“Thar’s a lavish of things I needs ter know, Jack,” +she said. “You’ve got to l’arn ’em all ter me.”</p> +<p>“I come now, not as teacher but as pupil, dear +heart,” he declared, “and I come humbly.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span></div> +<p>Then her face grew serious and her voice vibrant +with tenderness.</p> +<p>“I have another gift for you, Jack, besides myself, +I can give you back an untarnished name.”</p> +<p class='center padtop larger'>THE END</p> +<div class="trnote"> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p><b>Transcribers Note</b></p> +<p>Typographical inconsistencies have been changed and are +<ins title="Was 'hgihligthed'">highlighted</ins> and +listed below.</p> +<p>Hyphenation standardized.</p> +<p>Other archaic and variable spelling and hyphenation is preserved, including the author’s use of eying and eyeing, +Quizote, Otello, and langour.</p> +<p class='padtop'><b>Transcriber Changes</b></p> +<p>The following changes were made to the original text:</p> +<p><a href='#TC_1'>Page 86</a>: Was sterterously (he sat there breathing <b>stertorously</b> while the untended fire died away)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_2'>Page 90</a>: Was plausiblity (One explanation only presented itself with any color of <b>plausibility</b>)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_3'>Page 96</a>: Was mistly (there was a dreamy violet where it merged <b>mistily</b> with the skyline ridges)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_4'>Page 118</a>: Was there (“It is well established by the evidence befo’ <b>ther</b> co’te”)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_5'>Page 120</a>: Was impusively (the girl broke out <b>impulsively</b>)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_6'>Page 124</a>: Removed extra quote (Still Spurrier cursed himself for a careless <b>fool</b>)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_7'>Page 162</a>: Was it’s (you’ll recall that <b>its</b> longer name is <i>Datura stramonium</i>)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_8'>Page 180</a>: Was inperceptible (pair of shoulders that hunched slowly forward with almost <b>imperceptible</b> movement)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_9'>Page 208</a>: Guessed at missing text (the latter inquired gravely: <b>“Did they play one</b> of them royalty games”)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_10'>Page 208</a>: Was single quote (I ain’t playin’ no more of them royalty <b>games”</b>)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_13'>Page 263</a>: Was pacink (“Before God,” cried Harrison, <b>pacing</b> his floor like a lion)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_12'>Page 301</a>: Was personalties (“What matter <b>personalities</b> to us?”)</p> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: 3.21k3 --> +<!-- timestamp: 2010-11-04 18:26:28 -0500 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Law of Hemlock Mountain, by Hugh Lundsford + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAW OF HEMLOCK MOUNTAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 34208-h.htm or 34208-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/0/34208/ + +Produced by David Garcia, Katherine Ward, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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