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diff --git a/5067-h/5067-h.htm b/5067-h/5067-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf99457 --- /dev/null +++ b/5067-h/5067-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13639 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Rainbow Trail, a Romance, by Zane Grey. + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rainbow Trail, by Zane Grey + +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 Rainbow Trail + +Author: Zane Grey + +Release Date: May 31, 2009 [EBook #5067] +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RAINBOW TRAIL *** + + + + +Produced by Doug Levy, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE RAINBOW TRAIL,<br /> a Romance + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Zane Grey + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#2H_FORE"> FOREWORD </a><br /><br /> <a href="#2H_4_0002"> + <big><b>THE RAINBOW TRAIL</b></big> </a><br /><br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0003"> I. </a> RED LAKE <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0004"> II. </a> THE SAGI <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0005"> III. </a> KAYENTA <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0006"> IV. </a> NEW FRIENDS <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0007"> V. </a> ON THE TRAIL <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0008"> VI. </a> IN THE HIDDEN VALLEY <br /><br /> + <a href="#2H_4_0009"> VII. </a> SAGO-LILIES <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0010"> VIII. </a> THE HOGAN OF NAS TA BEGA <br /><br /> + <a href="#2H_4_0011"> IX. </a> IN THE DESERT CRUCIBLE <br /><br /> + <a href="#2H_4_0012"> X. </a> STONEBRIDGE <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0013"> XI. </a> AFTER THE TRIAL <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0014"> XII. </a> THE REVELATION <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0015"> XIII. </a> THE STORY OF SURPRISE VALLEY + <br /><br /> <a href="#2H_4_0016"> XIV. </a> THE NAVAJO <br /><br /> + <a href="#2H_4_0017"> XV. </a> WILD JUSTICE <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0018"> XVI. </a> SURPRISE VALLEY <br /><br /> <a + href="#2H_4_0019"> XVII. </a> THE TRAIL TO NONNEZOSHE <br /><br /> + <a href="#2H_4_0020"> XVIII. </a> AT THE FOOT OF THE + RAINBOW <br /><br /> <a href="#2H_4_0021"> XIX. </a> THE GRAND + CANYON OF THE COLORADO <br /><br /> <a href="#2H_4_0022"> XX. </a> WILLOW + SPRINGS <br /><br /> <a href="#2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE. </a> + <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="2H_FORE"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + FOREWORD + </h2> + <p> + The spell of the desert comes back to me, as it always will come. I see + the veils, like purple smoke, in the canyon, and I feel the silence. And + it seems that again I must try to pierce both and to get at the strange + wild life of the last American wilderness—wild still, almost, as it + ever was. + </p> + <p> + While this romance is an independent story, yet readers of “Riders of the + Purple Sage” will find in it an answer to a question often asked. + </p> + <p> + I wish to say also this story has appeared serially in a different form in + one of the monthly magazines under the title of “The Desert Crucible.” + ZANE GREY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + June, 1915. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE RAINBOW TRAIL + </h1> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. RED LAKE + </h2> + <p> + Shefford halted his tired horse and gazed with slowly realizing eyes. + </p> + <p> + A league-long slope of sage rolled and billowed down to Red Lake, a dry + red basin, denuded and glistening, a hollow in the desert, a lonely and + desolate door to the vast, wild, and broken upland beyond. + </p> + <p> + All day Shefford had plodded onward with the clear horizon-line a thing + unattainable; and for days before that he had ridden the wild bare flats + and climbed the rocky desert benches. The great colored reaches and steps + had led endlessly onward and upward through dim and deceiving distance. + </p> + <p> + A hundred miles of desert travel, with its mistakes and lessons and + intimations, had not prepared him for what he now saw. He beheld what + seemed a world that knew only magnitude. Wonder and awe fixed his gaze, + and thought remained aloof. Then that dark and unknown northland flung a + menace at him. An irresistible call had drawn him to this seamed and + peaked border of Arizona, this broken battlemented wilderness of Utah + upland; and at first sight they frowned upon him, as if to warn him not to + search for what lay hidden beyond the ranges. But Shefford thrilled with + both fear and exultation. That was the country which had been described to + him. Far across the red valley, far beyond the ragged line of black mesa + and yellow range, lay the wild canyon with its haunting secret. + </p> + <p> + Red Lake must be his Rubicon. Either he must enter the unknown to seek, to + strive, to find, or turn back and fail and never know and be always + haunted. A friend's strange story had prompted his singular journey; a + beautiful rainbow with its mystery and promise had decided him. Once in + his life he had answered a wild call to the kingdom of adventure within + him, and once in his life he had been happy. But here in the horizon-wide + face of that up-flung and cloven desert he grew cold; he faltered even + while he felt more fatally drawn. + </p> + <p> + As if impelled Shefford started his horse down the sandy trail, but he + checked his former far-reaching gaze. It was the month of April, and the + waning sun lost heat and brightness. Long shadows crept down the slope + ahead of him and the scant sage deepened its gray. He watched the lizards + shoot like brown streaks across the sand, leaving their slender tracks; he + heard the rustle of pack-rats as they darted into their brushy homes; the + whir of a low-sailing hawk startled his horse. + </p> + <p> + Like ocean waves the slope rose and fell, its hollows choked with sand, + its ridge-tops showing scantier growth of sage and grass and weed. The + last ridge was a sand-dune, beautifully ribbed and scalloped and lined by + the wind, and from its knife-sharp crest a thin wavering sheet of sand + blew, almost like smoke. Shefford wondered why the sand looked red at a + distance, for here it seemed almost white. It rippled everywhere, clean + and glistening, always leading down. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Shefford became aware of a house looming out of the bareness of + the slope. It dominated that long white incline. Grim, lonely, forbidding, + how strangely it harmonized with the surroundings! The structure was + octagon-shaped, built of uncut stone, and resembled a fort. There was no + door on the sides exposed to Shefford's gaze, but small apertures + two-thirds the way up probably served as windows and port-holes. The roof + appeared to be made of poles covered with red earth. + </p> + <p> + Like a huge cold rock on a wide plain this house stood there on the windy + slope. It was an outpost of the trader Presbrey, of whom Shefford had + heard at Flagstaff and Tuba. No living thing appeared in the limit of + Shefford's vision. He gazed shudderingly at the unwelcoming habitation, at + the dark eyelike windows, at the sweep of barren slope merging into the + vast red valley, at the bold, bleak bluffs. Could any one live here? The + nature of that sinister valley forbade a home there, and the spirit of the + place hovered in the silence and space. Shefford thought irresistibly of + how his enemies would have consigned him to just such a hell. He thought + bitterly and mockingly of the narrow congregation that had proved him a + failure in the ministry, that had repudiated his ideas of religion and + immortality and God, that had driven him, at the age of twenty-four, from + the calling forced upon him by his people. As a boy he had yearned to make + himself an artist; his family had made him a clergyman; fate had made him + a failure. A failure only so far in his life, something urged him to add—for + in the lonely days and silent nights of the desert he had experienced a + strange birth of hope. Adventure had called him, but it was a vague and + spiritual hope, a dream of promise, a nameless attainment that fortified + his wilder impulse. + </p> + <p> + As he rode around a corner of the stone house his horse snorted and + stopped. A lean, shaggy pony jumped at sight of him, almost displacing a + red long-haired blanket that covered an Indian saddle. Quick thuds of + hoofs in sand drew Shefford's attention to a corral made of peeled poles, + and here he saw another pony. + </p> + <p> + Shefford heard subdued voices. He dismounted and walked to an open door. + In the dark interior he dimly descried a high counter, a stairway, a pile + of bags of flour, blankets, and silver-ornamented objects, but the persons + he had heard were not in that part of the house. Around another corner of + the octagon-shaped wall he found another open door, and through it saw + goat-skins and a mound of dirty sheep-wool, black and brown and white. It + was light in this part of the building. When he crossed the threshold he + was astounded to see a man struggling with a girl—an Indian girl. + She was straining back from him, panting, and uttering low guttural + sounds. The man's face was corded and dark with passion. This scene + affected Shefford strangely. Primitive emotions were new to him. + </p> + <p> + Before Shefford could speak the girl broke loose and turned to flee. She + was an Indian and this place was the uncivilized desert, but Shefford knew + terror when he saw it. Like a dog the man rushed after her. It was + instinct that made Shefford strike, and his blow laid the man flat. He lay + stunned a moment, then raised himself to a sitting posture, his hand to + his face, and the gaze he fixed upon Shefford seemed to combine + astonishment and rage. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you're not Presbrey,” said Shefford, slowly. He felt awkward, not + sure of himself. + </p> + <p> + The man appeared about to burst into speech, but repressed it. There was + blood on his mouth and his hand. Hastily he scrambled to his feet. + Shefford saw this man's amaze and rage change to shame. He was tall and + rather stout; he had a smooth tanned face, soft of outline, with a weak + chin; his eyes were dark. The look of him and his corduroys and his soft + shoes gave Shefford an impression that he was not a man who worked hard. + By contrast with the few other worn and rugged desert men Shefford had met + this stranger stood out strikingly. He stooped to pick up a soft felt hat + and, jamming it on his head, he hurried out. Shefford followed him and + watched him from the door. He went directly to the corral, mounted the + pony, and rode out, to turn down the slope toward the south. When he + reached the level of the basin, where evidently the sand was hard, he put + the pony to a lope and gradually drew away. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” ejaculated Shefford. He did not know what to make of this + adventure. Presently he became aware that the Indian girl was sitting on a + roll of blankets near the wall. With curious interest Shefford studied her + appearance. She had long, raven-black hair, tangled and disheveled, and + she wore a soiled white band of cord above her brow. The color of her face + struck him; it was dark, but not red nor bronzed; it almost had a tinge of + gold. Her profile was clear-cut, bold, almost stern. Long black eyelashes + hid her eyes. She wore a tight-fitting waist garment of material + resembling velveteen. It was ripped along her side, exposing a skin still + more richly gold than that of her face. A string of silver ornaments and + turquoise-and-white beads encircled her neck, and it moved gently up and + down with the heaving of her full bosom. Her skirt was some gaudy print + goods, torn and stained and dusty. She had little feet, incased in brown + moccasins, fitting like gloves and buttoning over the ankles with silver + coins. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that man? Did he hurt you?” inquired Shefford, turning to gaze + down the valley where a moving black object showed on the bare sand. + </p> + <p> + “No savvy,” replied the Indian girl. + </p> + <p> + “Where's the trader Presbrey?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + She pointed straight down into the red valley. + </p> + <p> + “Toh,” she said. + </p> + <p> + In the center of the basin lay a small pool of water shining brightly in + the sunset glow. Small objects moved around it, so small that Shefford + thought he saw several dogs led by a child. But it was the distance that + deceived him. There was a man down there watering his horses. That + reminded Shefford of the duty owing to his own tired and thirsty beast. + Whereupon he untied his pack, took off the saddle, and was about ready to + start down when the Indian girl grasped the bridle from his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Me go,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He saw her eyes then, and they made her look different. They were as black + as her hair. He was puzzled to decide whether or not he thought her + handsome. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, but I'll go,” he replied, and, taking the bridle again, he + started down the slope. At every step he sank into the deep, soft sand. + Down a little way he came upon a pile of tin cans; they were everywhere, + buried, half buried, and lying loose; and these gave evidence of how the + trader lived. Presently Shefford discovered that the Indian girl was + following him with her own pony. Looking upward at her against the light, + he thought her slender, lithe, picturesque. At a distance he liked her. + </p> + <p> + He plodded on, at length glad to get out of the drifts of sand to the hard + level floor of the valley. This, too, was sand, but dried and baked hard, + and red in color. At some season of the year this immense flat must be + covered with water. How wide it was, and empty! Shefford experienced again + a feeling that had been novel to him—and it was that he was loose, + free, unanchored, ready to veer with the wind. From the foot of the slope + the water hole had appeared to be a few hundred rods out in the valley. + But the small size of the figures made Shefford doubt; and he had to + travel many times a few hundred rods before those figures began to grow. + Then Shefford made out that they were approaching him. + </p> + <p> + Thereafter they rapidly increased to normal proportions of man and beast. + When Shefford met them he saw a powerful, heavily built young man leading + two ponies. + </p> + <p> + “You're Mr. Presbrey, the trader?” inquired Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm Presbrey, without the Mister,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “My name's Shefford. I'm knocking about on the desert. Rode from beyond + Tuba to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you,” said Presbrey. He offered his hand. He was a stalwart + man, clad in gray shirt, overalls, and boots. A shock of tumbled light + hair covered his massive head; he was tanned, but not darkly, and there + was red in his cheeks; under his shaggy eyebrows were deep, keen eyes; his + lips were hard and set, as if occasion for smiles or words was rare; and + his big, strong jaw seemed locked. + </p> + <p> + “Wish more travelers came knocking around Red Lake,” he added. “Reckon + here's the jumping-off place.” + </p> + <p> + “It's pretty—lonesome,” said Shefford, hesitating as if at a loss + for words. + </p> + <p> + Then the Indian girl came up. Presbrey addressed her in her own language, + which Shefford did not understand. She seemed shy and would not answer; + she stood with downcast face and eyes. Presbrey spoke again, at which she + pointed down the valley, and then moved on with her pony toward the + water-hole. + </p> + <p> + Presbrey's keen eyes fixed on the receding black dot far down that oval + expanse. + </p> + <p> + “That fellow left—rather abruptly,” said Shefford, constrainedly. + “Who was he?” + </p> + <p> + “His name's Willetts. He's a missionary. He rode in to-day with this + Navajo girl. He was taking her to Blue canyon, where he lives and teaches + the Indians. I've met him only a few times. You see, not many white men + ride in here. He's the first white man I've seen in six months, and you're + the second. Both the same day!... Red Lake's getting popular! It's queer, + though, his leaving. He expected to stay all night. There's no other place + to stay. Blue canyon is fifty miles away.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry to say—no, I'm not sorry, either—but I must tell + you I was the cause of Mr. Willetts leaving,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “How so?” inquired the other. + </p> + <p> + Then Shefford related the incident following his arrival. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps my action was hasty,” he concluded, apologetically. “I didn't + think. Indeed, I'm surprised at myself.” + </p> + <p> + Presbrey made no comment and his face was as hard to read as one of the + distant bluffs. + </p> + <p> + “But what did the man mean?” asked Shefford, conscious of a little heat. + “I'm a stranger out here. I'm ignorant of Indians—how they're + controlled. Still I'm no fool.... If Willetts didn't mean evil, at least + he was brutal.” + </p> + <p> + “He was teaching her religion,” replied Presbrey. His tone held faint + scorn and implied a joke, but his face did not change in the slightest. + </p> + <p> + Without understanding just why, Shefford felt his conviction justified and + his action approved. Then he was sensible of a slight shock of wonder and + disgust. + </p> + <p> + “I am—I was a minister of the Gospel,” he said to Presbrey. “What + you hint seems impossible. I can't believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't hint,” replied Presbrey, bluntly, and it was evident that he was + a sincere, but close-mouthed, man. “Shefford, so you're a preacher?... Did + you come out here to try to convert the Indians?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I said I WAS a minister. I am no longer. I'm just a—a + wanderer.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Well, the desert's no place for missionaries, but it's good for + wanderers.... Go water your horse and take him up to the corral. You'll + find some hay for him. I'll get grub ready.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford went on with his horse to the pool. The water appeared thick, + green, murky, and there was a line of salty crust extending around the + margin of the pool. The thirsty horse splashed in and eagerly bent his + head. But he did not like the taste. Many times he refused to drink, yet + always lowered his nose again. Finally he drank, though not his fill. + Shefford saw the Indian girl drink from her hand. He scooped up a handful + and found it too sour to swallow. When he turned to retrace his steps she + mounted her pony and followed him. + </p> + <p> + A golden flare lit up the western sky, and silhouetted dark and lonely + against it stood the trading-post. Upon his return Shefford found the wind + rising, and it chilled him. When he reached the slope thin gray sheets of + sand were blowing low, rising, whipping, falling, sweeping along with soft + silken rustle. Sometimes the gray veils hid his boots. It was a long, + toilsome climb up that yielding, dragging ascent, and he had already been + lame and tired. By the time he had put his horse away twilight was + everywhere except in the west. The Indian girl left her pony in the corral + and came like a shadow toward the house. + </p> + <p> + Shefford had difficulty in finding the foot of the stairway. He climbed to + enter a large loft, lighted by two lamps. Presbrey was there, kneading + biscuit dough in a pan. + </p> + <p> + “Make yourself comfortable,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The huge loft was the shape of a half-octagon. A door opened upon the + valley side, and here, too, there were windows. How attractive the place + was in comparison with the impressions gained from the outside! The + furnishings consisted of Indian blankets on the floor, two beds, a desk + and table, several chairs and a couch, a gun-rack full of rifles, + innumerable silver-ornamented belts, bridles, and other Indian articles + upon the walls, and in one corner a wood-burning stove with teakettle + steaming, and a great cupboard with shelves packed full of canned foods. + </p> + <p> + Shefford leaned in the doorway and looked out. Beneath him on a roll of + blankets sat the Indian girl, silent and motionless. He wondered what was + in her mind, what she would do, how the trader would treat her. The slope + now was a long slant of sheeted moving shadows of sand. Dusk had gathered + in the valley. The bluffs loomed beyond. A pale star twinkled above. + Shefford suddenly became aware of the intense nature of the stillness + about him. Yet, as he listened to this silence, he heard an intermittent + and immeasurably low moan, a fitful, mournful murmur. Assuredly it was + only the wind. Nevertheless, it made his blood run cold. It was a + different wind from that which had made music under the eaves of his + Illinois home. This was a lonely, haunting wind, with desert hunger in it, + and more which he could not name. Shefford listened to this + spirit-brooding sound while he watched night envelop the valley. How + black, how thick the mantle! Yet it brought no comforting sense of + close-folded protection, of walls of soft sleep, of a home. Instead there + was the feeling of space, of emptiness, of an infinite hall down which a + mournful wind swept streams of murmuring sand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, grub's about ready,” said Presbrey. + </p> + <p> + “Got any water?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Sure. There in the bucket. It's rain-water. I have a tank here.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford's sore and blistered face felt better after he had washed off the + sand and alkali dust. + </p> + <p> + “Better not wash your face often while you're in the desert. Bad plan,” + went on Presbrey, noting how gingerly his visitor had gone about his + ablutions. “Well, come and eat.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford marked that if the trader did live a lonely life he fared well. + There was more on the table than twice two men could have eaten. It was + the first time in four days that Shefford had sat at a table, and he made + up for lost opportunity. + </p> + <p> + His host's actions indicated pleasure, yet the strange, hard face never + relaxed, never changed. When the meal was finished Presbrey declined + assistance, had a generous thought of the Indian girl, who, he said, could + have a place to eat and sleep down-stairs, and then with the skill and + despatch of an accomplished housewife cleared the table, after which work + he filled a pipe and evidently prepared to listen. + </p> + <p> + It took only one question for Shefford to find that the trader was starved + for news of the outside world; and for an hour Shefford fed that appetite, + even as he had been done by. But when he had talked himself out there + seemed indication of Presbrey being more than a good listener. + </p> + <p> + “How'd you come in?” he asked, presently. + </p> + <p> + “By Flagstaff—across the Little Colorado—and through + Moencopie.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you stop at Moen Ave?” + </p> + <p> + “No. What place is that?” + </p> + <p> + “A missionary lives there. Did you stop at Tuba?” + </p> + <p> + “Only long enough to drink and water my horse. That was a wonderful spring + for the desert.” + </p> + <p> + “You said you were a wanderer.... Do you want a job? I'll give you one.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, Presbrey.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw your pack. That's no pack to travel with in this country. Your + horse won't last, either. Have you any money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, plenty of money.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's good. Not that a white man out here would ever take a dollar + from you. But you can buy from the Indians as you go. Where are you making + for, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + Shefford hesitated, debating in mind whether to tell his purpose or not. + His host did not press the question. + </p> + <p> + “I see. Just foot-loose and wandering around,” went on Presbrey. “I can + understand how the desert appeals to you. Preachers lead easy, safe, + crowded, bound lives. They're shut up in a church with a Bible and good + people. When once in a lifetime they get loose—they break out.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've broken out—beyond all bounds,” replied Shefford, sadly. + He seemed retrospective for a moment, unaware of the trader's keen and + sympathetic glance, and then he caught himself. “I want to see some wild + life. Do you know the country north of here?” + </p> + <p> + “Only what the Navajos tell me. And they're not much to talk. There's a + trail goes north, but I've never traveled it. It's a new trail every time + an Indian goes that way, for here the sand blows and covers old tracks. + But few Navajos ride in from the north. My trade is mostly with Indians up + and down the valley.” + </p> + <p> + “How about water and grass?” + </p> + <p> + “We've had rain and snow. There's sure to be, water. Can't say about + grass, though the sheep and ponies from the north are always fat.... But, + say, Shefford, if you'll excuse me for advising you—don't go north.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Shefford, and it was certain that he thrilled. + </p> + <p> + “It's unknown country, terribly broken, as you can see from here, and + there are bad Indians biding in the canyon. I've never met a man who had + been over the pass between here and Kayenta. The trip's been made, so + there must be a trail. But it's a dangerous trip for any man, let alone a + tenderfoot. You're not even packing a gun.” + </p> + <p> + “What's this place Kayenta?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “It's a spring. Kayenta means Bottomless Spring. There's a little + trading-post, the last and the wildest in northern Arizona. Withers, the + trader who keeps it, hauls his supplies in from Colorado and New Mexico. + He's never come down this way. I never saw him. Know nothing of him except + hearsay. Reckon he's a nervy and strong man to hold that post. If you want + to go there, better go by way of Keams canyon, and then around the foot of + Black Mesa. It'll be a long ride—maybe two hundred miles.” + </p> + <p> + “How far straight north over the pass?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't say. Upward of seventy-five miles over rough trails, if there are + trails at all.... I've heard rumors of a fine tribe of Navajos living in + there, rich in sheep and horses. It may be true and it may not. But I do + know there are bad Indians, half-breeds and outcasts, hiding in there. + Some of them have visited me here. Bad customers! More than that, you'll + be going close to the Utah line, and the Mormons over there are unfriendly + these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” queried Shefford, again with that curious thrill. + </p> + <p> + “They are being persecuted by the government.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford asked no more questions and his host vouchsafed no more + information on that score. The conversation lagged. Then Shefford inquired + about the Indian girl and learned that she lived up the valley somewhere. + Presbrey had never seen her before Willetts came with her to Red Lake. And + this query brought out the fact that Presbrey was comparatively new to Red + Lake and vicinity. Shefford wondered why a lonely six months there had not + made the trader old in experience. Probably the desert did not readily + give up its secrets. Moreover, this Red Lake house was only an + occasionally used branch of Presbrey's main trading-post, which was + situated at Willow Springs, fifty miles westward over the mesa. + </p> + <p> + “I'm closing up here soon for a spell,” said Presbrey, and now his face + lost its set hardness and seemed singularly changed. It was a difference, + of light and softness. “Won't be so lonesome over at Willow Springs.... + I'm being married soon.” + </p> + <p> + “That's fine,” replied Shefford, warmly. He was glad for the sake of this + lonely desert man. What good a wife would bring into a trader's life! + </p> + <p> + Presbrey's naive admission, however, appeared to detach him from his + present surroundings, and with his massive head enveloped by a cloud of + smoke he lived in dreams. + </p> + <p> + Shefford respected his host's serene abstraction. Indeed, he was grateful + for silence. Not for many nights had the past impinged so closely upon the + present. The wound in his soul had not healed, and to speak of himself + made it bleed anew. Memory was too poignant; the past was too close; he + wanted to forget until he had toiled into the heart of this forbidding + wilderness—until time had gone by and he dared to face his unquiet + soul. Then he listened to the steadily rising roar of the wind. How + strange and hollow! That wind was freighted with heavy sand, and he heard + it sweep, sweep, sweep by in gusts, and then blow with dull, steady blast + against the walls. The sound was provocative of thought. This moan and + rush of wind was no dream—this presence of his in a night-enshrouded + and sand-besieged house of the lonely desert was reality—this + adventure was not one of fancy. True indeed, then, must be the wild, + strange story that had led him hither. He was going on to seek, to strive, + to find. Somewhere northward in the broken fastnesses lay hidden a valley + walled in from the world. Would they be there, those lost fugitives whose + story had thrilled him? After twelve years would she be alive, a child + grown to womanhood in the solitude of a beautiful canyon? Incredible! Yet + he believed his friend's story and he indeed knew how strange and tragic + life was. He fancied he heard her voice on the sweeping wind. She called + to him, haunted him. He admitted the improbability of her existence, but + lost nothing of the persistent intangible hope that drove him. He believed + himself a man stricken in soul, unworthy, through doubt of God, to + minister to the people who had banished him. Perhaps a labor of Hercules, + a mighty and perilous work of rescue, the saving of this lost and + imprisoned girl, would help him in his trouble. She might be his + salvation. Who could tell? Always as a boy and as a man he had fared forth + to find the treasure at the foot of the rainbow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. THE SAGI + </h2> + <p> + Next morning the Indian girl was gone and the tracks of her pony led + north. Shefford's first thought was to wonder if he would overtake her on + the trail; and this surprised him with the proof of how unconsciously his + resolve to go on had formed. + </p> + <p> + Presbrey made no further attempt to turn Shefford back. But he insisted on + replenishing the pack, and that Shefford take weapons. Finally Shefford + was persuaded to accept a revolver. The trader bade him good-by and stood + in the door while Shefford led his horse down the slope toward the + water-hole. Perhaps the trader believed he was watching the departure of a + man who would never return. He was still standing at the door of the post + when Shefford halted at the pool. + </p> + <p> + Upon the level floor of the valley lay thin patches of snow which had + fallen during the night. The air was biting cold, yet stimulated Shefford + while it stung him. His horse drank rather slowly and disgustedly. Then + Shefford mounted and reluctantly turned his back upon the trading-post. + </p> + <p> + As he rode away from the pool he saw a large flock of sheep approaching. + They were very closely, even densely, packed, in a solid slow-moving mass + and coming with a precision almost like a march. This fact surprised + Shefford, for there was not an Indian in sight. Presently he saw that a + dog was leading the flock, and a little later he discovered another dog in + the rear of the sheep. They were splendid, long-haired dogs, of a + wild-looking shepherd breed. He halted his horse to watch the procession + pass by. The flock covered fully an acre of ground and the sheep were + black, white, and brown. They passed him, making a little pattering roar + on the hard-caked sand. The dogs were taking the sheep in to water. + </p> + <p> + Shefford went on and was drawing close to the other side of the basin, + where the flat red level was broken by rising dunes and ridges, when he + espied a bunch of ponies. A shrill whistle told him that they had seen + him. They were wild, shaggy, with long manes and tails. They stopped, + threw up their heads, and watched him. Shefford certainly returned the + attention. There was no Indian with them. Presently, with a snort, the + leader, which appeared to be a stallion, trotted behind the others, seemed + to be driving them, and went clear round the band to get in the lead + again. He was taking them in to water, the same as the dogs had taken the + sheep. + </p> + <p> + These incidents were new and pleasing to Shefford. How ignorant he had + been of life in the wilderness! Once more he received subtle intimations + of what he might learn out in the open; and it was with a less weighted + heart that he faced the gateway between the huge yellow bluffs on his left + and the slow rise of ground to the black mesa on his right. He looked back + in time to see the trading-post, bleak and lonely on the bare slope, pass + out of sight behind the bluffs. Shefford felt no fear—he really had + little experience of physical fear—but it was certain that he + gritted his teeth and welcomed whatever was to come to him. He had lived a + narrow, insulated life with his mind on spiritual things; his family and + his congregation and his friends—except that one new friend whose + story had enthralled him—were people of quiet religious habit; the + man deep down in him had never had a chance. He breathed hard as he tried + to imagine the world opening to him, and almost dared to be glad for the + doubt that had sent him adrift. + </p> + <p> + The tracks of the Indian girl's pony were plain in the sand. Also there + were other tracks, not so plain, and these Shefford decided had been made + by Willetts and the girl the day before. He climbed a ridge, half soft + sand and half hard, and saw right before him, rising in striking form, two + great yellow buttes, like elephant legs. He rode between them, amazed at + their height. Then before him stretched a slowly ascending valley, walled + on one side by the black mesa and on the other by low bluffs. For miles a + dark-green growth of greasewood covered the valley, and Shefford could see + where the green thinned and failed, to give place to sand. He trotted his + horse and made good time on this stretch. + </p> + <p> + The day contrasted greatly with any he had yet experienced. Gray clouds + obscured the walls of rock a few miles to the west, and Shefford saw + squalls of snow like huge veils dropping down and spreading out. The wind + cut with the keenness of a knife. Soon he was chilled to the bone. A + squall swooped and roared down upon him, and the wind that bore the + driving white pellets of snow, almost like hail, was so freezing bitter + cold that the former wind seemed warm in comparison. The squall passed as + swiftly as it had come, and it left Shefford so benumbed he could not hold + the bridle. He tumbled off his horse and walked. By and by the sun came + out and soon warmed him and melted the thin layer of snow on the sand. He + was still on the trail of the Indian girl, but hers were now the only + tracks he could see. + </p> + <p> + All morning he gradually climbed, with limited view, until at last he + mounted to a point where the country lay open to his sight on all sides + except where the endless black mesa ranged on into the north. A rugged + yellow peak dominated the landscape to the fore, but it was far away. Red + and jagged country extended westward to a huge flat-topped wall of gray + rock. Lowering swift clouds swept across the sky, like drooping mantles, + and darkened the sun. Shefford built a little fire out of dead greasewood + sticks, and with his blanket round his shoulders he hung over the blaze, + scorching his clothes and hands. He had been cold before in his life but + he had never before appreciated fire. This desert blast pierced him. The + squall enveloped him, thicker and colder and windier than the other, but, + being better fortified, he did not suffer so much. It howled away, hiding + the mesa and leaving a white desert behind. Shefford walked on, leading + his horse, until the exercise and the sun had once more warmed him. + </p> + <p> + This last squall had rendered the Indian girl's trail difficult to follow. + The snow did not quickly melt, and, besides, sheep tracks and the tracks + of horses gave him trouble, until at last he was compelled to admit that + he could not follow her any longer. A faint path or trail led north, + however, and, following that, he soon forgot the girl. Every surmounted + ridge held a surprise for him. The desert seemed never to change in the + vast whole that encompassed him, yet near him it was always changing. From + Red Lake he had seen a peaked, walled, and canyoned country, as rough as a + stormy sea; but when he rode into that country the sharp and broken + features held to the distance. + </p> + <p> + He was glad to get out of the sand. Long narrow flats, gray with grass and + dotted with patches of greasewood, and lined by low bare ridges of yellow + rock, stretched away from him, leading toward the yellow peak that seemed + never to be gained upon. + </p> + <p> + Shefford had pictures in his mind, pictures of stone walls and wild + valleys and domed buttes, all of which had been painted in colorful and + vivid words by his friend Venters. He believed he would recognize the + distinctive and remarkable landmarks Venters had portrayed, and he was + certain that he had not yet come upon one of them. This was his second + lonely day of travel and he had grown more and more susceptible to the + influence of horizon and the different prominent points. He attributed a + gradual change in his feelings to the loneliness and the increasing + wildness. Between Tuba and Flagstaff he had met Indians and an occasional + prospector and teamster. Here he was alone, and though he felt some + strange gladness, he could not help but see the difference. + </p> + <p> + He rode on during the gray, lowering, chilly day, and toward evening the + clouds broke in the west, and a setting sun shone through the rift, + burnishing the desert to red and gold. Shefford's instinctive but deadened + love of the beautiful in nature stirred into life, and the moment of its + rebirth was a melancholy and sweet one. Too late for the artist's work, + but not too late for his soul! + </p> + <p> + For a place to make camp he halted near a low area of rock that lay like + an island in a sea of grass. There was an abundance of dead greasewood for + a camp-fire, and, after searching over the rock, he found little pools of + melted snow in the depressions. He took off the saddle and pack, watered + his horse, and, hobbling him as well as his inexperience permitted, he + turned him loose on the grass. + </p> + <p> + Then while he built a fire and prepared a meal the night came down upon + him. In the lee of the rock he was well sheltered from the wind, but the + air, was bitter cold. He gathered all the dead greasewood in the vicinity, + replenished the fire, and rolled in his blanket, back to the blaze. The + loneliness and the coyotes did not bother him this night. He was too tired + and cold. He went to sleep at once and did not awaken until the fire died + out. Then he rebuilt it and went to sleep again. Every half-hour all night + long he repeated this, and was glad indeed when the dawn broke. + </p> + <p> + The day began with misfortune. His horse was gone; it had been stolen, or + had worked out of sight, or had broken the hobbles and made off. From a + high stone ridge Shefford searched the grassy flats and slopes, all to no + purpose. Then he tried to track the horse, but this was equally futile. He + had expected disasters, and the first one did not daunt him. He tied most + of his pack in the blanket, threw the canteen across his shoulder, and set + forth, sure at least of one thing—that he was a very much better + traveler on foot than on horseback. + </p> + <p> + Walking did not afford him the leisure to study the surrounding country; + however, from time to time, when he surmounted a bench he scanned the + different landmarks that had grown familiar. It took hours of steady + walking to reach and pass the yellow peak that had been a kind of goal. He + saw many sheep trails and horse tracks in the vicinity of this mountain, + and once he was sure he espied an Indian watching him from a bold + ridge-top. + </p> + <p> + The day was bright and warm, with air so clear it magnified objects he + knew to be far away. The ascent was gradual; there were many narrow flats + connected by steps; and the grass grew thicker and longer. At noon + Shefford halted under the first cedar-tree, a lonely, dwarfed shrub that + seemed to have had a hard life. From this point the rise of ground was + more perceptible, and straggling cedars led the eye on to a purple slope + that merged into green of pinon and pine. Could that purple be the sage + Venters had so feelingly described, or was it merely the purple of + deceiving distance? Whatever it might be, it gave Shefford a thrill and + made him think of the strange, shy, and lovely woman Venters had won out + here in this purple-sage country. + </p> + <p> + He calculated that he had ridden thirty miles the day before and had + already traveled ten miles today, and therefore could hope to be in the + pass before night. Shefford resumed his journey with too much energy and + enthusiasm to think of being tired. And he discovered presently that the + straggling cedars and the slope beyond were much closer than he had judged + them to be. He reached the sage to find it gray instead of purple. Yet it + was always purple a little way ahead, and if he half shut his eyes it was + purple near at hand. He was surprised to find that he could not breathe + freely, or it seemed so, and soon made the discovery that the sweet, + pungent, penetrating fragrance of sage and cedar had this strange effect + upon him. This was an exceedingly dry and odorous forest, where every open + space between the clumps of cedars was choked with luxuriant sage. The + pinyons were higher up on the mesa, and the pines still higher. Shefford + appeared to lose himself. There were no trails; the black mesa on the + right and the wall of stone on the left could not be seen; but he pushed + on with what was either singular confidence or rash impulse. And he did + not know whether that slope was long or short. Once at the summit he saw + with surprise that it broke abruptly and the descent was very steep and + short on that side. Through the trees he once more saw the black mesa, + rising to the dignity of a mountain; and he had glimpses of another flat, + narrow valley, this time with a red wall running parallel with the mesa. + He could not help but hurry down to get an unobstructed view. His + eagerness was rewarded by a splendid scene, yet to his regret he could not + force himself to believe it had any relation to the pictured scenes in his + mind. The valley was half a mile wide, perhaps several miles long, and it + extended in a curve between the cedar-sloped mesa and a looming wall of + red stone. There was not a bird or a beast in sight. He found a + well-defined trail, but it had not been recently used. He passed a low + structure made of peeled logs and mud, with a dark opening like a door. It + did not take him many minutes to learn that the valley was longer than he + had calculated. He walked swiftly and steadily, in spite of the fact that + the pack had become burdensome. What lay beyond the jutting corner of the + mesa had increasing fascination for him and acted as a spur. At last he + turned the corner, only to be disappointed at sight of another cedar + slope. He had a glimpse of a single black shaft of rock rising far in the + distance, and it disappeared as his striding forward made the crest of the + slope rise toward the sky. + </p> + <p> + Again his view became restricted, and he lost the sense of a slow and + gradual uplift of rock and an increase in the scale of proportion. + Half-way up this ascent he was compelled to rest; and again the sun was + slanting low when he entered the cedar forest. Soon he was descending, and + he suddenly came into the open to face a scene that made his heart beat + thick and fast. + </p> + <p> + He saw lofty crags and cathedral spires, and a wonderful canyon winding + between huge beetling red walls. He heard the murmur of flowing water. The + trail led down to the canyon floor, which appeared to be level and green + and cut by deep washes in red earth. Could this canyon be the mouth of + Deception Pass? It bore no resemblance to any place Shefford had heard + described, yet somehow he felt rather than saw that it was the portal to + the wild vastness he had traveled so far to enter. + </p> + <p> + Not till he had descended the trail and had dropped his pack did he + realize how weary and footsore he was. Then he rested. But his eyes roved + to and fro, and his mind was active. What a wild and lonesome spot! The + low murmur of shallow water came up to him from a deep, narrow cleft. + Shadows were already making the canyon seem full of blue haze. He saw a + bare slope of stone out of which cedar-trees were growing. And as he + looked about him he became aware of a singular and very perceptible change + in the lights and shades. The sun was setting; the crags were gold-tipped; + the shadows crept upward; the sky seemed to darken swiftly; then the gold + changed to red, slowly dulled, and the grays and purples stood out. + Shefford was entranced with the beautiful changing effects, and watched + till the walls turned black and the sky grew steely and a faint star + peeped out. Then he set about the necessary camp tasks. + </p> + <p> + Dead cedars right at hand assured him a comfortable night with steady + fire; and when he had satisfied his hunger he arranged an easy seat before + the blazing logs, and gave his mind over to thought of his weird, lonely + environment. + </p> + <p> + The murmur of running water mingled in harmonious accompaniment with the + moan of the wind in the cedars—wild, sweet sounds that were balm to + his wounded spirit! They seemed a part of the silence, rather than a break + in it or a hindrance to the feeling of it. But suddenly that silence did + break to the rattle of a rock. Shefford listened, thinking some wild + animal was prowling around. He felt no alarm. Presently he heard the sound + again, and again. Then he recognized the crack of unshod hoofs upon rock. + A horse was coming down the trail. Shefford rather resented the + interruption, though he still had no alarm. He believed he was perfectly + safe. As a matter of fact, he had never in his life been anything but safe + and padded around with wool, hence, never having experienced peril, he did + not know what fear was. + </p> + <p> + Presently he saw a horse and rider come into dark prominence on the ridge + just above his camp. They were silhouetted against the starry sky. The + horseman stopped and he and his steed made a magnificent black statue, + somehow wild and strange, in Shefford's sight. Then he came on, vanished + in the darkness under the ridge, presently to emerge into the circle of + camp-fire light. + </p> + <p> + He rode to within twenty feet of Shefford and the fire. The horse was + dark, wild-looking, and seemed ready to run. The rider appeared to be an + Indian, and yet had something about him suggesting the cowboy. At once + Shefford remembered what Presbrey had said about half-breeds. A little + shock, inexplicable to Shefford, rippled over him. + </p> + <p> + He greeted his visitor, but received no answer. Shefford saw a dark, squat + figure bending forward in the saddle. The man was tense. All about him was + dark except the glint of a rifle across the saddle. The face under the + sombrero was only a shadow. Shefford kicked the fire-logs and a brighter + blaze lightened the scene. Then he saw this stranger a little more + clearly, and made out an unusually large head, broad dark face, a sinister + tight-shut mouth, and gleaming black eyes. + </p> + <p> + Those eyes were unmistakably hostile. They roved searchingly over + Shefford's pack and then over his person. Shefford felt for the gun that + Presbrey had given him. But it was gone. He had left it back where he had + lost his horse, and had not thought of it since. Then a strange, + slow-coming cold agitation possessed Shefford. Something gripped his + throat. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Shefford was stricken at a menacing movement on the part of the + horseman. He had drawn a gun. Shefford saw it shine darkly in the + firelight. The Indian meant to murder him. Shefford saw the grim, dark + face in a kind of horrible amaze. He felt the meaning of that drawn weapon + as he had never felt anything before in his life. And he collapsed back + into his seat with an icy, sickening terror. In a second he was dripping + wet with cold sweat. Lightning-swift thoughts flashed through his mind. It + had been one of his platitudes that he was not afraid of death. Yet here + he was a shaking, helpless coward. What had he learned about either life + or death? Would this dark savage plunge him into the unknown? It was then + that Shefford realized his hollow philosophy and the bitter-sweetness of + life. He had a brain and a soul, and between them he might have worked out + his salvation. But what were they to this ruthless night-wanderer, this + raw and horrible wildness of the desert? + </p> + <p> + Incapable of voluntary movement, with tongue cleaving to the roof of his + mouth, Shefford watched the horseman and the half-poised gun. It was not + yet leveled. Then it dawned upon Shefford that the stranger's head was + turned a little, his ear to the wind. He was listening. His horse was + listening. Suddenly he straightened up, wheeled his horse, and trotted + away into the darkness. But he did not climb the ridge down which he had + come. + </p> + <p> + Shefford heard the click of hoofs upon the stony trail. Other horses and + riders were descending into the canyon. They had been the cause of his + deliverance, and in the relaxation of feeling he almost fainted. Then he + sat there, slowly recovering, slowly ceasing to tremble, divining that + this situation was somehow to change his attitude toward life. + </p> + <p> + Three horses, two with riders, moved in dark shapes across the skyline + above the ridge, disappeared as had Shefford's first visitor, and then + rode into the light. Shefford saw two Indians—a man and a woman; + then with surprise recognized the latter to be the Indian girl he had met + at Red Lake. He was still more surprised to recognize in the third horse + the one he had lost at the last camp. Shefford rose, a little shaky on his + legs, to thank these Indians for a double service. The man slipped from + his saddle and his moccasined feet thudded lightly. He was tall, lithe, + erect, a singularly graceful figure, and as he advanced Shefford saw a + dark face and sharp, dark eyes. The Indian was bareheaded, with his hair + bound in a band. He resembled the girl, but appeared to have a finer face. + </p> + <p> + “How do?” he said, in a voice low and distinct. He extended his hand, and + Shefford felt a grip of steel. He returned the greeting. Then the Indian + gave Shefford the bridle of the horse, and made signs that appeared to + indicate the horse had broken his hobbles and strayed. Shefford thanked + him. Thereupon the Indian unsaddled and led the horses away, evidently to + water them. The girl remained behind. Shefford addressed her, but she was + shy and did not respond. He then set about cooking a meal for his + visitors, and was busily engaged at this when the Indian returned without + the horses. Presently Shefford resumed his seat by the fire and watched + the two eat what he had prepared. They certainly were hungry and soon had + the pans and cups empty. Then the girl drew back a little into the shadow, + while the man sat with his legs crossed and his feet tucked under him. + </p> + <p> + His dark face was smooth, yet it seemed to have lines under the surface. + Shefford was impressed. He had never seen an Indian who interested him as + this one. Looked at superficially, he appeared young, wild, silent, locked + in his primeval apathy, just a healthy savage; but looked at more + attentively, he appeared matured, even old, a strange, sad, brooding + figure, with a burden on his shoulders. Shefford found himself growing + curious. + </p> + <p> + “What place?” asked Shefford, waving his hand toward the dark opening + between the black cliffs. + </p> + <p> + “Sagi,” replied the Indian. + </p> + <p> + That did not mean anything to Shefford, and he asked if the Sagi was the + pass, but the Indian shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Wife?” asked Shefford, pointing to the girl. + </p> + <p> + The Indian shook his head again. “<i>Bi-la</i>,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What you mean?” asked Shefford. “What <i>bi-la</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Sister,” replied the Indian. He spoke the word reluctantly, as if the + white man's language did not please him, but the clearness and correct + pronunciation surprised Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “What name—what call her?” he went on. + </p> + <p> + “Glen Naspa.” + </p> + <p> + “What your name?” inquired Shefford, indicating the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega,” answered the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “Navajo?” + </p> + <p> + The Indian bowed with what seemed pride and stately dignity. + </p> + <p> + “My name John Shefford. Come far way back toward rising sun. Come stay + here long.” + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega's dark eyes were fixed steadily upon Shefford. He reflected + that he could not remember having felt so penetrating a gaze. But neither + the Indian's eyes nor face gave any clue to his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Navajo no savvy Jesus Christ,” said the Indian, and his voice rolled out + low and deep. + </p> + <p> + Shefford felt both amaze and pain. The Indian had taken him for a + missionary. + </p> + <p> + “No!... Me no missionary,” cried Shefford, and he flung up a passionately + repudiating hand. + </p> + <p> + A singular flash shot from the Indian's dark eyes. It struck Shefford even + at this stinging moment when the past came back. + </p> + <p> + “Trade—buy wool—blanket?” queried Nas Ta Bega. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Shefford. “Me want ride—walk far.” He waved his hand + to indicate a wide sweep of territory. “Me sick.” + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega laid a significant finger upon his lungs. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Shefford. “Me strong. Sick here.” And with motions of his + hands he tried to show that his was a trouble of the heart. + </p> + <p> + Shefford received instant impression of this Indian's intelligent + comprehension, but he could not tell just what had given him the feeling. + Nas Ta Bega rose then and walked away into the shadow. Shefford heard him + working around the dead cedar-tree, where he had probably gone to get + fire-wood. Then Shefford heard a splintering crash, which was followed by + a crunching, bumping sound. Presently he was astounded to see the Indian + enter the lighted circle dragging the whole cedar-tree, trunk first. + Shefford would have doubted the ability of two men to drag that tree, and + here came Nas Ta Bega, managing it easily. He laid the trunk on the fire, + and then proceeded to break off small branches, to place them + advantageously where the red coals kindled them into a blaze. + </p> + <p> + The Indian's next move was to place his saddle, which he evidently meant + to use for a pillow. Then he spread a goat-skin on the ground, lay down + upon it, with his back to the fire, and, pulling a long-haired + saddle-blanket over his shoulders, he relaxed and became motionless. His + sister, Glen Naspa, did likewise, except that she stayed farther away from + the fire, and she had a larger blanket, which covered her well. It + appeared to Shefford that they went to sleep at once. + </p> + <p> + Shefford felt as tired as he had ever been, but he did not think he could + soon drop into slumber, and in fact he did not want to. + </p> + <p> + There was something in the companionship of these Indians that he had not + experienced before. He still had a strange and weak feeling—the + aftermath of that fear which had sickened him with its horrible icy grip. + Nas Ta Bega's arrival had frightened away that dark and silent prowler of + the night; and Shefford was convinced the Indian had saved his life. The + measure of his gratitude was a source of wonder to him. Had he cared so + much for life? Yes—he had, when face to face with death. That was + something to know. It helped him. And he gathered from his strange feeling + that the romantic quest which had brought him into the wilderness might + turn out to be an antidote for the morbid bitterness of heart. + </p> + <p> + With new sensations had come new thoughts. Right then it was very pleasant + to sit in the warmth and light of the roaring cedar fire. There was a + deep-seated ache of fatigue in his bones. What joy it was to rest! He had + felt the dry scorch of desert thirst and the pang of hunger. How wonderful + to learn the real meaning of water and food! He had just finished the + longest, hardest day's work of his life! Had that anything to do with a + something almost like peace which seemed to hover near in the shadows, + trying to come to him? He had befriended an Indian girl, and now her + brother had paid back the service. Both the giving and receiving were + somehow sweet to Shefford. They opened up hitherto vague channels of + thought. For years he had imagined he was serving people, when he had + never lifted a hand. A blow given in the defense of an Indian girl had + somehow operated to make a change in John Shefford's existence. It had + liberated a spirit in him. Moreover, it had worked its influence outside + his mind. The Indian girl and her brother had followed his trail to return + his horse, perhaps to guide him safely, but, unknowingly perhaps, they had + done infinitely more than that for him. As Shefford's eye wandered over + the dark, still figures of the sleepers he had a strange, dreamy + premonition, or perhaps only a fancy, that there was to be more come of + this fortunate meeting. + </p> + <p> + For the rest, it was good to be there in the speaking silence, to feel the + heat on his outstretched palms and the cold wind on his cheek, to see the + black wall lifting its bold outline and the crags reaching for the white + stars. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. KAYENTA + </h2> + <p> + The stamping of horses awoke Shefford. He saw a towering crag, rosy in the + morning light, like a huge red spear splitting the clear blue of sky. He + got up, feeling cramped and sore, yet with unfamiliar exhilaration. The + whipping air made him stretch his hands to the fire. An odor of coffee and + broiled meat mingled with the fragrance of wood smoke. Glen Naspa was on + her knees broiling a rabbit on a stick over the red coals. Nas Ta Bega was + saddling the ponies. The canyon appeared to be full of purple shadows + under one side of dark cliffs and golden streaks of mist on the other + where the sun struck high up on the walls. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning,” said Shefford. + </p> + <p> + Glen Naspa shyly replied in Navajo. + </p> + <p> + “How,” was Nas Ta Bega's greeting. + </p> + <p> + In daylight the Indian lost some of the dark somberness of face that had + impressed Shefford. He had a noble head, in poise like that of an eagle, a + bold, clean-cut profile, and stern, close-shut lips. His eyes were the + most striking and attractive feature about him; they were coal-black and + piercing; the intent look out of them seemed to come from a keen and + inquisitive mind. + </p> + <p> + Shefford ate breakfast with the Indians, and then helped with the few + preparations for departure. Before they mounted, Nas Ta Bega pointed to + horse tracks in the dust. They were those that had been made by Shefford's + threatening visitor of the night before. Shefford explained by word and + sign, and succeeded at least in showing that he had been in danger. Nas Ta + Bega followed the tracks a little way and presently returned. + </p> + <p> + “Shadd,” he said, with an ominous shake of his head. Shefford did not + understand whether he meant the name of his visitor or something else, but + the menace connected with the word was clear enough. + </p> + <p> + Glen Naspa mounted her pony, and it was a graceful action that pleased + Shefford. He climbed a little stiffly into his own saddle. Then Nas Ta + Bega got up and pointed northward. + </p> + <p> + “Kayenta?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + Shefford nodded and then they were off, with Glen Naspa in the lead. They + did not climb the trail which they had descended, but took one leading to + the right along the base of the slope. Shefford saw down into the red wash + that bisected the canyon floor. It was a sheer wall of red clay or loam, a + hundred feet high, and at the bottom ran a swift, shallow stream of + reddish water. Then for a time a high growth of greasewood hid the + surroundings from Shefford's sight. Presently the trail led out into the + open, and Shefford saw that he was at the neck of a wonderful valley that + gradually widened with great jagged red peaks on the left and the black + mesa, now a mountain, running away to the right. He turned to find that + the opening of the Sagi could no longer be seen, and he was conscious of a + strong desire to return and explore that canyon. + </p> + <p> + Soon Glen Naspa put her pony to a long, easy, swinging canter and her + followers did likewise. As they got outward into the valley Shefford lost + the sense of being overshadowed and crowded by the nearness of the huge + walls and crags. The trail appeared level underfoot, but at a distance it + was seen to climb. Shefford found where it disappeared over the foot of a + slope that formed a graceful rising line up to the cedared flank of the + mesa. The valley floor, widening away to the north, remained level and + green. Beyond rose the jagged range of red peaks, all strangely cut and + slanting. These distant deceiving features of the country held Shefford's + gaze until the Indian drew his attention to things near at hand. Then + Shefford saw flocks of sheep dotting the gray-green valley, and bands of + beautiful long-maned, long-tailed ponies. + </p> + <p> + For several miles the scene did not change except that Shefford imagined + he came to see where the upland plain ended or at least broke its level. + He was right, for presently the Indian pointed, and Shefford went on to + halt upon the edge of a steep slope leading down into a valley vast in its + barren gray reaches. + </p> + <p> + “Kayenta,” said Nas Ta Bega. + </p> + <p> + Shefford at first saw nothing except the monotonous gray valley reaching + far to the strange, grotesque monuments of yellow cliff. Then close under + the foot of the slope he espied two squat stone houses with red roofs, and + a corral with a pool of water shining in the sun. + </p> + <p> + The trail leading down was steep and sandy, but it was not long. + Shefford's sweeping eyes appeared to take in everything at once—the + crude stone structures with their earthen roofs, the piles of dirty wool, + the Indians lolling around, the tents, and wagons, and horses, little lazy + burros and dogs, and scattered everywhere saddles, blankets, guns, and + packs. + </p> + <p> + Then a white man came out of the door. He waved a hand and shouted. Dust + and wool and flour were thick upon him. He was muscular and + weather-beaten, and appeared young in activity rather than face. A gun + swung at his hip and a row of brass-tipped cartridges showed in his belt. + Shefford looked into a face that he thought he had seen before, until he + realized the similarity was only the bronze and hard line and rugged cast + common to desert men. The gray searching eyes went right through him. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you. Get down and come in. Just heard from an Indian that you + were coming. I'm the trader Withers,” he said to Shefford. His voice was + welcoming and the grip of his hand made Shefford's ache. + </p> + <p> + Shefford told his name and said he was as glad as he was lucky to arrive + at Kayenta. + </p> + <p> + “Hello! Nas Ta Bega!” exclaimed Withers. His tone expressed a surprise his + face did not show. “Did this Indian bring you in?” + </p> + <p> + Withers shook hands with the Navajo while Shefford briefly related what he + owed to him. Then Withers looked at Nas Ta Bega and spoke to him in the + Indian tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Shadd,” said Nas Ta Bega. Withers let out a dry little laugh and his + strong hand tugged at his mustache. + </p> + <p> + “Who's Shadd?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “He's a half-breed Ute—bad Indian, outlaw, murderer. He's in with a + gang of outlaws who hide in the San Juan country.... Reckon you're lucky. + How'd you come to be there in the Sagi alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I traveled from Red Lake. Presbrey, the trader there, advised against it, + but I came anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Well.” Withers's gray glance was kind, if it did express the + foolhardiness of Shefford's act. “Come into the house.... Never mind the + horse. My wife will sure be glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Withers led Shefford by the first stone house, which evidently was the + trading-store, into the second. The room Shefford entered was large, with + logs smoldering in a huge open fireplace, blankets covering every foot of + floor space, and Indian baskets and silver ornaments everywhere, and + strange Indian designs painted upon the whitewashed walls. Withers called + his wife and made her acquainted with Shefford. She was a slight, comely + little woman, with keen, earnest, dark eyes. She seemed to be serious and + quiet, but she made Shefford feel at home immediately. He refused, + however, to accept the room offered him, saying that he me meant to sleep + out under the open sky. Withers laughed at this and said he understood. + Shefford, remembering Presbrey's hunger for news of the outside world, + told this trader and his wife all he could think of; and he was listened + to with that close attention a traveler always gained in the remote + places. + </p> + <p> + “Sure am glad you rode in,” said Withers, for the fourth time. “Now you + make yourself at home. Stay here—come over to the store—do + what you like. I've got to work. To-night we'll talk.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford went out with his host. The store was as interesting as + Presbrey's, though much smaller and more primitive. It was full of + everything, and smelled strongly of sheep and goats. There was a narrow + aisle between sacks of flour and blankets on one side and a high counter + on the other. Behind this counter Withers stood to wait upon the buying + Indians. They sold blankets and skins and bags of wool, and in exchange + took silver money. Then they lingered and with slow, staid reluctance + bought one thing and then another—flour, sugar, canned goods, + coffee, tobacco, ammunition. The counter was never without two or three + Indians leaning on their dark, silver-braceleted arms. But as they were + slow to sell and buy and go, so were others slow to come in. Their voices + were soft and low and it seemed to Shefford they were whispering. He liked + to hear them and to look at the banded heads, the long, twisted rolls of + black hair tied with white cords, the still dark faces and watchful eyes, + the silver ear-rings, the slender, shapely brown hands, the lean and + sinewy shapes, the corduroys with a belt and gun, and the small, + close-fitting buckskin moccasins buttoned with coins. These Indians all + appeared young, and under the quiet, slow demeanor there was fierce blood + and fire. + </p> + <p> + By and by two women came in, evidently squaw and daughter. The former was + a huge, stout Indian with a face that was certainly pleasant if not jolly. + </p> + <p> + She had the corners of a blanket tied under her chin, and in the folds + behind on her broad back was a naked Indian baby, round and black of head, + brown-skinned, with eyes as bright as beads. When the youngster caught + sight of Shefford he made a startled dive into the sack of the blanket. + Manifestly, however, curiosity got the better of fear, for presently + Shefford caught a pair of wondering dark eyes peeping at him. + </p> + <p> + “They're good spenders, but slow,” said Withers. “The Navajos are careful + and cautious. That's why they're rich. This squaw, Yan As Pa, has flocks + of sheep and more mustangs than she knows about.” + </p> + <p> + “Mustangs. So that's what you call the ponies?” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Yep. They're mustangs, and mostly wild as jack-rabbits.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford strolled outside and made the acquaintance of Withers's helper, a + Mormon named Whisner. He was a stockily built man past maturity, and his + sun-blistered face and watery eyes told of the open desert. He was engaged + in weighing sacks of wool brought in by the Indians. Near by stood a + framework of poles from which an immense bag was suspended. From the top + of this bag protruded the head and shoulders of an Indian who appeared to + be stamping and packing wool with his feet. He grinned at the curious + Shefford. But Shefford was more interested in the Mormon. So far as he + knew, Whisner was the first man of that creed he had ever met, and he + could scarcely hide his eagerness. Venters's stories had been of a + long-past generation of Mormons, fanatical, ruthless, and unchangeable. + Shefford did not expect to meet Mormons of this kind. But any man of that + religion would have interested him. Besides this, Whisner seemed to bring + him closer to that wild secret canyon he had come West to find. Shefford + was somewhat amazed and discomfited to have his polite and friendly + overtures repulsed. Whisner might have been an Indian. He was cold, + incommunicative, aloof; and there was something about him that made the + sensitive Shefford feel his presence was resented. + </p> + <p> + Presently Shefford strolled on to the corral, which was full of shaggy + mustangs. They snorted and kicked at him. He had a half-formed wish that + he would never be called upon to ride one of those wild brutes, and then + he found himself thinking that he would ride one of them, and after a + while any of them. Shefford did not understand himself, but he fought his + natural instinctive reluctance to meet obstacles, peril, suffering. + </p> + <p> + He traced the white-bordered little stream that made the pool in the + corral, and when he came to where it oozed out of the sand under the bluff + he decided that was not the spring which had made Kayenta famous. + Presently down below the trading-post he saw a trough from which burros + were drinking. Here he found the spring, a deep well of eddying water + walled in by stones, and the overflow made a shallow stream meandering + away between its borders of alkali, like a crust of salt. Shefford tasted + the water. It bit, but it was good. + </p> + <p> + Shefford had no trouble in making friends with the lazy sleepy-eyed + burros. They let him pull their long ears and rub their noses, but the + mustangs standing around were unapproachable. They had wild eyes; they + raised long ears and looked vicious. He let them alone. + </p> + <p> + Evidently this trading-post was a great deal busier than Red Lake. + Shefford counted a dozen Indians lounging outside, and there were others + riding away. Big wagons told how the bags of wool were transported out of + the wilds and how supplies were brought in. A wide, hard-packed road led + off to the east, and another, not so clearly defined, wound away to the + north. And Indian trails streaked off in all directions. + </p> + <p> + Shefford discovered, however, when he had walked off a mile or so across + the valley to lose sight of the post, that the feeling of wildness and + loneliness returned to him. It was a wonderful country. It held something + for him besides the possible rescue of an imprisoned girl from a wild + canyon. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + That night after supper, when Withers and Shefford sat alone before the + blazing logs in the huge fireplace, the trader laid his hand on Shefford's + and said, with directness and force: + </p> + <p> + “I've lived my life in the desert. I've met many men and have been a + friend to most.... You're no prospector or trader or missionary?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “You've had trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you come in here to hide? Don't be afraid to tell me. I won't give + you away.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't come to hide.” + </p> + <p> + “Then no one is after you? You've done no wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I wronged myself, but no one else,” replied Shefford, steadily. + </p> + <p> + “I reckoned so. Well, tell me, or keep your secret—it's all one to + me.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford felt a desire to unburden himself. This man was strong, + persuasive, kindly. He drew Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “You're welcome in Kayenta,” went on Withers. “Stay as long as you like. I + take no pay from a white man. If you want work I have it aplenty.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. That is good. I need to work. We'll talk of it later. ... But + just yet I can't tell you why I came to Kayenta, what I want to do, how + long I shall stay. My thoughts put in words would seem so like dreams. + Maybe they are dreams. Perhaps I'm only chasing a phantom—perhaps + I'm only hunting the treasure at the foot of the rainbow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is the country for rainbows,” laughed Withers. “In summer from + June to August when it storms we have rainbows that'll make you think + you're in another world. The Navajos have rainbow mountains, rainbow + canyons, rainbow bridges of stone, rainbow trails. It sure is rainbow + country.” + </p> + <p> + That deep and mystic chord in Shefford thrilled. Here it was again—something + tangible at the bottom of his dream. + </p> + <p> + Withers did not wait for Shefford to say any more, and almost as if he + read his visitor's mind he began to talk about the wild country he called + home. + </p> + <p> + He had lived at Kayenta for several years—hard and profitless years + by reason of marauding outlaws. He could not have lived there at all but + for the protection of the Indians. His father-in-law had been friendly + with the Navajos and Piutes for many years, and his wife had been brought + up among them. She was held in peculiar reverence and affection by both + tribes in that part of the country. Probably she knew more of the Indians' + habits, religion, and life than any white person in the West. Both tribes + were friendly and peaceable, but there were bad Indians, half-breeds, and + outlaws that made the trading-post a venture Withers had long considered + precarious, and he wanted to move and intended to some day. His nearest + neighbors in New Mexico and Colorado were a hundred miles distant and at + some seasons the roads were impassable. To the north, however, twenty + miles or so, was situated a Mormon village named Stonebridge. It lay + across the Utah line. Withers did some business with this village, but + scarcely enough to warrant the risks he had to run. During the last year + he had lost several pack-trains, one of which he had never heard of after + it left Stonebridge. + </p> + <p> + “Stonebridge!” exclaimed Shefford, and he trembled. He had heard that + name. In his memory it had a place beside the name of another village + Shefford longed to speak of to this trader. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—Stonebridge,” replied Withers. “Ever heard the name?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so. Are there other villages in—in that part of the + country?” + </p> + <p> + “A few, but not close. Glaze is now only a water-hole. Bluff and + Monticello are far north across the San Juan.... There used to be another + village—but that wouldn't interest you.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe it would,” replied Shefford, quietly. + </p> + <p> + But his hint was not taken by the trader. Withers suddenly showed a + semblance of the aloofness Shefford had observed in Whisner. + </p> + <p> + “Withers, pardon an impertinence—I am deeply serious.... Are you a + Mormon?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I'm not,” replied the trader, instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Are you for the Mormons or against them?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither. I get along with them. I know them. I believe they are a + misunderstood people.” + </p> + <p> + “That's for them.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I'm only fair-minded.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford paused, trying to curb his thrilling impulse, but it was too + strong. + </p> + <p> + “You said there used to be another village.... Was the name of it—Cottonwoods?” + </p> + <p> + Withers gave a start and faced round to stare at Shefford in blank + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Say, did you give me a straight story about yourself?” he queried, + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “So far as I went,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “You're no spy on the lookout for sealed wives?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely not. I don't even know what you mean by sealed wives.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's damn strange that you'd know the name Cottonwoods.... Yes, + that's the name of the village I meant—the one that used to be. It's + gone now, all except a few stone walls.” + </p> + <p> + “What became of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Torn down by Mormons years ago. They destroyed it and moved away. I've + heard Indians talk about a grand spring that was there once. It's gone, + too. Its name was—let me see—” + </p> + <p> + “Amber Spring,” interrupted Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “By George, you're right!” rejoined the trader, again amazed. “Shefford, + this beats me. I haven't heard that name for ten years. I can't help + seeing what a tenderfoot—stranger—you are to the desert. Yet, + here you are—speaking of what you should know nothing of.... And + there's more behind this.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford rose, unable to conceal his agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of a rider named Venters?” + </p> + <p> + “Rider? You mean a cowboy? Venters. No, I never heard that name.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of a gunman named Lassiter?” queried Shefford, with + increasing emotion. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of a Mormon woman named—Jane Withersteen?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford drew his breath sharply. He had followed a gleam—he had + caught a fleeting glimpse of it. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of a child—a girl—a woman—called Fay + Larkin?” + </p> + <p> + Withers rose slowly with a paling face. + </p> + <p> + “If you're a spy it'll go hard with you—though I'm no Mormon,” he + said, grimly. + </p> + <p> + Shefford lifted a shaking hand. + </p> + <p> + “I WAS a clergyman. Now I'm nothing—a wanderer—least of all a + spy.” + </p> + <p> + Withers leaned closer to see into the other man's eyes; he looked long and + then appeared satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “I've heard the name Fay Larkin,” he said, slowly. “I reckon that's all + I'll say till you tell your story.” + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Shefford stood with his back to the fire and he turned the palms of his + hands to catch the warmth. He felt cold. Withers had affected him + strangely. What was the meaning of the trader's somber gravity? Why was + the very mention of Mormons attended by something austere and secret? + </p> + <p> + “My name is John Shefford. I am twenty-four,” began Shefford. “My family—” + </p> + <p> + Here a knock on the door interrupted Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” called Withers. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and like a shadow Nas Ta Bega slipped in. He said + something in Navajo to the trader. + </p> + <p> + “How,” he said to Shefford, and extended his hand. He was stately, but + there was no mistaking his friendliness. Then he sat down before the fire, + doubled his legs under him after the Indian fashion, and with dark eyes on + the blazing logs seemed to lose himself in meditation. + </p> + <p> + “He likes the fire,” explained Withers. “Whenever he comes to Kayenta he + always visits me like this.... Don't mind him. Go on with your story.” + </p> + <p> + “My family were plain people, well-to-do, and very religious,” went on + Shefford. “When I was a boy we moved from the country to a town called + Beaumont, Illinois. There was a college in Beaumont and eventually I was + sent to it to study for the ministry. I wanted to be—— But + never mind that.... By the time I was twenty-two I was ready for my career + as a clergyman. I preached for a year around at different places and then + got a church in my home town of Beaumont. I became exceedingly good + friends with a man named Venters, who had recently come to Beaumont. He + was a singular man. His wife was a strange, beautiful woman, very + reserved, and she had wonderful dark eyes. They had money and were devoted + to each other, and perfectly happy. They owned the finest horses ever seen + in Illinois, and their particular enjoyment seemed to be riding. They were + always taking long rides. It was something worth going far for to see Mrs. + Venters on a horse. + </p> + <p> + “It was through my own love of horses that I became friendly with Venters. + He and his wife attended my church, and as I got to see more of them, + gradually we grew intimate. And it was not until I did get intimate with + them that I realized that both seemed to be haunted by the past. They were + sometimes sad even in their happiness. They drifted off into dreams. They + lived back in another world. They seemed to be listening. Indeed, they + were a singularly interesting couple, and I grew genuinely fond of them. + By and by they had a little girl whom they named Jane. The coming of the + baby made a change in my friends. They were happier, and I observed that + the haunting shadow did not so often return. + </p> + <p> + “Venters had spoken of a journey west that he and his wife meant to take + some time. But after the baby came he never mentioned his wife in + connection with the trip. I gathered that he felt compelled to go to clear + up a mystery or to find something—I did not make out just what. But + eventually, and it was about a year ago, he told me his story—the + strangest, wildest, and most tragic I ever heard. I can't tell it all now. + It is enough to say that fifteen years before he had been a rider for a + rich Mormon woman named Jane Withersteen, of this village Cottonwoods. She + had adopted a beautiful Gentile child named Fay Larkin. Her interest in + Gentiles earned the displeasure of her churchmen, and as she was proud + there came a breach. Venters and a gunman named Lassiter became involved + in her quarrel. Finally Venters took to the canyon. Here in the wilds he + found the strange girl he eventually married. For a long time they lived + in a wonderful hidden valley, the entrance to which was guarded by a huge + balancing rock. Venters got away with the girl. But Lassiter and Jane + Withersteen and the child Fay Larkin were driven into the canyon. They + escaped to the valley where Venters had lived. Lassiter rolled the + balancing rock, and, crashing down the narrow trail, it loosened the + weathered walls and closed the narrow outlet for ever.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. NEW FRIENDS + </h2> + <p> + Shefford ended his narrative out of breath, pale, and dripping with sweat. + Withers sat leaning forward with an expression of intense interest. Nas Ta + Bega's easy, graceful pose had succeeded to one of strained rigidity. He + seemed a statue of bronze. Could a few intelligible words, Shefford + wondered, have created that strange, listening posture? + </p> + <p> + “Venters got out of Utah, of course, as you know,” went on Shefford. “He + got out, knowing—as I feel I would have known—that Jane, + Lassiter, and little Fay Larkin were shut up, walled up in Surprise + Valley. For years Venters considered it would not have been safe for him + to venture to rescue them. He had no fears for their lives. They could + live in Surprise Valley. But Venters always intended to come back with + Bess and find the valley and his friends. No wonder he and Bess were + haunted. However, when his wife had the baby that made a difference. It + meant he had to go alone. And he was thinking seriously of starting when—when + there were developments that made it desirable for me to leave Beaumont. + Venters's story haunted me as he had been haunted. I dreamed of that wild + valley—of little Fay Larkin grown to womanhood—such a woman as + Bess Venters was. And the longing to come was great.... And, Withers—here + I am.” + </p> + <p> + The trader reached out and gave Shefford the grip of a man in whom emotion + was powerful, but deep and difficult to express. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to this.... I wish I could help you. Life is a queer deal. ... + Shefford, I've got to trust you. Over here in the wild canyon country + there's a village of Mormons' sealed wives. It's in Arizona, perhaps + twenty miles from here, and near the Utah line. When the United States + government began to persecute, or prosecute, the Mormons for polygamy, the + Mormons over here in Stonebridge took their sealed wives and moved them + out of Utah, just across the line. They built houses, established a + village there. I'm the only Gentile who knows about it. And I pack + supplies every few weeks in to these women. There are perhaps fifty women, + mostly young—second or third or fourth wives of Mormons—sealed + wives. And I want you to understand that sealed means SEALED in all that + religion or loyalty can get out of the word. There are also some old women + and old men in the village, but they hardly count. And there's a flock of + the finest children you ever saw in your life. + </p> + <p> + “The idea of the Mormons must have been to escape prosecution. The law of + the government is one wife for each man—no more. All over Utah + polygamists have been arrested. The Mormons are deeply concerned. I + believe they are a good, law-abiding people. But this law is a direct blow + at their religion. In my opinion they can't obey both. And therefore they + have not altogether given up plural wives. Perhaps they will some day. I + have no proof, but I believe the Mormons of Stonebridge pay secret night + visits to their sealed wives across the line in the lonely, hidden + village. + </p> + <p> + “Now once over in Stonebridge I overheard some Mormons talking about a + girl who was named Fay Larkin. I never forgot the name. Later I heard the + name in this sealed-wife village. But, as I told you, I never heard of + Lassiter or Jane Withersteen. Still, if Mormons had found them I would + never have heard of it. And Deception Pass—that might be the + Sagi.... I'm not surprised at your rainbow-chasing adventure. It's a great + story.... This Fay Larkin I've heard of MIGHT be your Fay Larkin—I + almost believe so. Shefford, I'll help you find out.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—I must know,” replied Shefford. “Oh, I hope, I pray we can + find her! But—I'd rather she was dead—if she's not still + hidden in the valley.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. You've dreamed yourself into rescuing this lost Fay Larkin.... + But, Shefford, you're old enough to know life doesn't work out as you want + it to. One way or another I fear you're in for a bitter disappointment.” + </p> + <p> + “Withers, take me to the village.” + </p> + <p> + “Shefford, you're liable to get in bad out here,” said the trader, + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't be any more ruined than I am now,” replied Shefford, + passionately. + </p> + <p> + “But there's risk in this—risk such as you never had,” persisted + Withers. + </p> + <p> + “I'll risk anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon this is a funny deal for a sheep-trader to have on his hands,” + continued Withers. “Shefford, I like you. I've a mind to see you through + this. It's a damn strange story.... I'll tell you what—I will help + you. I'll give you a job packing supplies in to the village. I meant to + turn that over to a Mormon cowboy—Joe Lake. The job shall be yours, + and I'll go with you first trip. Here's my hand on it.... Now, Shefford, + I'm more curious about you than I was before you told your story. What + ruined you? As we're to be partners, you can tell me now. I'll keep your + secret. Maybe I can do you good.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford wanted to confess, yet it was hard. Perhaps, had he not been so + agitated, he would not have answered to impulse. But this trader was a man—a + man of the desert—he would understand. + </p> + <p> + “I told you I was a clergyman,” said Shefford in low voice. “I didn't want + to be one, but they made me one. I did my best. I failed.... I had doubts + of religion—of the Bible—of God, as my Church believed in + them. As I grew older thought and study convinced me of the narrowness of + religion as my congregation lived it. I preached what I believed. I + alienated them. They put me out, took my calling from me, disgraced me, + ruined me.” + </p> + <p> + “So that's all!” exclaimed Withers, slowly. “You didn't believe in the God + of the Bible.... Well, I've been in the desert long enough to know there + IS a God, but probably not the one your Church worships. ... Shefford, go + to the Navajo for a faith!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford had forgotten the presence of Nas Ta Bega, and perhaps Withers + had likewise. At this juncture the Indian rose to his full height, and he + folded his arms to stand with the somber pride of a chieftain while his + dark, inscrutable eyes were riveted upon Shefford. At that moment he + seemed magnificent. How infinitely more he seemed than just a common + Indian who had chanced to befriend a white man! The difference was obscure + to Shefford. But he felt that it was there in the Navajo's mind. Nas Ta + Bega's strange look was not to be interpreted. Presently he turned and + passed from the room. + </p> + <p> + “By George!” cried Withers, suddenly, and he pounded his knee with his + fist. “I'd forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” ejaculated Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that Indian understood every word we said. He knows English. He's + educated. Well, if this doesn't beat me.... Let me tell you about Nas Ta + Bega.” + </p> + <p> + Withers appeared to be recalling something half forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “Years ago, in fifty-seven, I think, Kit Carson with his soldiers chased + the Navajo tribes and rounded them up to be put on reservations. But he + failed to catch all the members of one tribe. They escaped up into wild + canyon like the Sagi. The descendants of these fugitives live there now + and are the finest Indians on earth—the finest because unspoiled by + the white man. Well, as I got the story, years after Carson's round-up one + of his soldiers guided some interested travelers in here. When they left + they took an Indian boy with them to educate. From what I know of Navajos + I'm inclined to think the boy was taken against his parents' wish. Anyway, + he was taken. That boy was Nas Ta Bega. The story goes that he was + educated somewhere. Years afterward, and perhaps not long before I came in + here, he returned to his people. There have been missionaries and other + interested fools who have given Indians a white man's education. In all + the instances I know of, these educated Indians returned to their tribes, + repudiating the white man's knowledge, habits, life, and religion. I have + heard that Nas Ta Bega came back, laid down the white man's clothes along + with the education, and never again showed that he had known either. + </p> + <p> + “You have just seen how strangely he acted. It's almost certain he heard + our conversation. Well, it doesn't matter. He won't tell. He can hardly be + made to use an English word. Besides, he's a noble red man, if there ever + was one. He has been a friend in need to me. If you stay long out here + you'll learn something from the Indians. Nas Ta Bega has befriended you, + too, it seems. I thought he showed unusual interest in you.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps that was because I saved his sister—well, to be charitable, + from the rather rude advances of a white man,” said Shefford, and he + proceeded to tell of the incident that occurred at Red Lake. + </p> + <p> + “Willetts!” exclaimed Withers, with much the same expression that Presbrey + had used. “I never met him. But I know about him. He's—well, the + Indians don't like him much. Most of the missionaries are good men—good + for the Indians, in a way, but sometimes one drifts out here who is bad. A + bad missionary teaching religion to savages! Queer, isn't it? The queerest + part is the white people's blindness—the blindness of those who send + the missionaries. Well, I dare say Willetts isn't very good. When Presbrey + said that was Willetts's way of teaching religion he meant just what he + said. If Willetts drifts over here he'll be risking much.... This you told + me explains Nas Ta Bega's friendliness toward you, and also his bringing + his sister Glen Naspa to live with relatives up in the pass. She had been + living near Red Lake.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean Nas Ta Bega wants to keep his sister far removed from + Willetts?” inquired Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “I mean that,” replied Withers, “and I hope he's not too late.” + </p> + <p> + Later Shefford went outdoors to walk and think. There was no moon, but the + stars made light enough to cast his shadow on the ground. The dark, + illimitable expanse of blue sky seemed to be glittering with numberless + points of fire. The air was cold and still. A dreaming silence lay over + the land. Shefford saw and felt all these things, and their effect was + continuous and remained with him and helped calm him. He was conscious of + a burden removed from his mind. Confession of his secret had been like + tearing a thorn from his flesh, but, once done, it afforded him relief and + a singular realization that out here it did not matter much. In a crowd of + men all looking at him and judging him by their standards he had been made + to suffer. Here, if he were judged at all, it would be by what he could + do, how he sustained himself and helped others. + </p> + <p> + He walked far across the valley toward the low bluffs, but they did not + seem to get any closer. And, finally, he stopped beside a stone and looked + around at the strange horizon and up at the heavens. He did not feel + utterly aloof from them, nor alone in a waste, nor a useless atom amid + incomprehensible forces. Something like a loosened mantle fell from about + him, dropping down at his feet; and all at once he was conscious of + freedom. He did not understand in the least why abasement left him, but it + was so. He had come a long way, in bitterness, in despair, believing + himself to be what men had called him. The desert and the stars and the + wind, the silence of the night, the loneliness of this vast country where + there was room for a thousand cities—these somehow vaguely, yet + surely, bade him lift his head. They withheld their secret, but they made + a promise. The thing which he had been feeling every day and every night + was a strange enveloping comfort. And it was at this moment that Shefford, + divining whence his help was to come, embraced all that wild and speaking + nature around and above him and surrendered himself utterly. + </p> + <p> + “I am young. I am free. I have my life to live,” he said. “I'll be a man. + I'll take what comes. Let me learn here!” + </p> + <p> + When he had spoken out, settled once and for ever his attitude toward his + future, he seemed to be born again, wonderfully alive to the influences + around him, ready to trust what yet remained a mystery. + </p> + <p> + Then his thoughts reverted to Fay Larkin. Could this girl be known to the + Mormons? It was possible. Fay Larkin was an unusual name. Deep into + Shefford's heart had sunk the story Venters had told. Shefford found that + he had unconsciously created a like romance—he had been loving a + wild and strange and lonely girl, like beautiful Bess Venters. It was a + shock to learn the truth, but, as it had been only a dream, it could + hardly be vital. + </p> + <p> + Shefford retraced his steps toward the post. Halfway back he espied a + tall, dark figure moving toward him, and presently the shape and the step + seemed familiar. Then he recognized Nas Ta Bega. Soon they were face to + face. Shefford felt that the Indian had been trailing him over the sand, + and that this was to be a significant meeting. Remembering Withers's + revelation about the Navajo, Shefford scarcely knew how to approach him + now. There was no difference to be made out in Nas Ta Bega's dark face and + inscrutable eyes, yet there was a difference to be felt in his presence. + But the Indian did not speak, and turned to walk by Shefford's side. + Shefford could not long be silent. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, were you looking for me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You had no gun,” replied the Indian. + </p> + <p> + But for his very low voice, his slow speaking of the words, Shefford would + have thought him a white man. For Shefford there was indeed an instinct in + this meeting, and he turned to face the Navajo. + </p> + <p> + “Withers told me you had been educated, that you came back to the desert, + that you never showed your training.... Nas Ta Bega, did you understand + all I told Withers?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “You won't betray me?” + </p> + <p> + “I am a Navajo.” + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, you trail me—you say I had no gun.” Shefford wanted to + ask this Indian if he cared to be the white man's friend, but the question + was not easy to put, and, besides, seemed unnecessary. “I am alone and + strange in this wild country. I must learn.” + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega will show you the trails and the water-holes and how to hide + from Shadd.” + </p> + <p> + “For money—for silver you will do this?” inquired Shefford. + </p> + <p> + Shefford felt that the Indian's silence was a rebuke. He remembered + Withers's singular praise of this red man. He realized he must change his + idea of Indians. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, I know nothing. I feel like a child in the wilderness. When + I speak it is out of the mouths of those who have taught me. I must find a + new voice and a new life.... You heard my story to Withers. I am an + outcast from my own people. If you will be my friend—be so.” + </p> + <p> + The Indian clasped Shefford's hand and held it in a response that was more + beautiful for its silence. So they stood for a moment in the starlight. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, what did Withers mean when he said go to the Navajo for a + faith?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “He meant the desert is my mother.... Will you go with Nas Ta Bega into + the canyon and the mountains?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I will.” + </p> + <p> + They unclasped hands and turned toward the trading-post. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, have you spoken my tongue to any other white man since you + returned to your home?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you—why are you different for me?” + </p> + <p> + The Indian maintained silence. + </p> + <p> + “Is it because of—of Glen Naspa?” inquired Shefford. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega stalked on, still silent, but Shefford divined that, although + his service to Glen Naspa would never be forgotten, still it was not + wholly responsible for the Indian's subtle sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai! The Navajo will call his white friend Bi Nai—brother,” said + Nas Ta Bega, and he spoke haltingly, not as if words were hard to find, + but strange to speak. “I was stolen from my mother's hogan and taken to + California. They kept me ten years in a mission at San Bernardino and four + years in a school. They said my color and my hair were all that was left + of the Indian in me. But they could not see my heart. They took fourteen + years of my life. They wanted to make me a missionary among my own people. + But the white man's ways and his life and his God are not the Indian's. + They never can be.” + </p> + <p> + How strangely productive of thought for Shefford to hear the Indian talk! + What fatality in this meeting and friendship! Upon Nas Ta Bega had been + forced education, training, religion, that had made him something more and + something less than an Indian. It was something assimilated from the white + man which made the Indian unhappy and alien in his own home—something + meant to be good for him and his kind that had ruined him. For Shefford + felt the passion and the tragedy of this Navajo. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai, the Indian is dying!” Nas Ta Bega's low voice was deep and + wonderful with its intensity of feeling. “The white man robbed the Indian + of lands and homes, drove him into the deserts, made him a gaunt and + sleepless spiller of blood.... The blood is all spilled now, for the + Indian is broken. But the white man sells him rum and seduces his + daughters.... He will not leave the Indian in peace with his own God!... + Bi Nai, the Indian is dying!” + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + That night Shefford lay in his blankets out under the open sky and the + stars. The earth had never meant much to him, and now it was a bed. He had + preached of the heavens, but until now had never studied them. An Indian + slept beside him. And not until the gray of morning had blotted out the + starlight did Shefford close his eyes. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + With break of the next day came full, varied, and stirring incidents to + Shefford. He was strong, though unskilled at most kinds of outdoor tasks. + Withers had work for ten men, if they could have been found. Shefford dug + and packed and lifted till he was so sore and tired that rest was a + blessing. + </p> + <p> + He never succeeded in getting on a friendly footing with the Mormon + Whisner, though he kept up his agreeable and kindly advances. He listened + to the trader's wife as she told him about the Indians, and what he + learned he did not forget. And his wonder and respect increased in + proportion to his knowledge. + </p> + <p> + One day there rode into Kayenta the Mormon for whom Withers had been + waiting. His name was Joe Lake. He appeared young, and slipped off his + superb bay with a grace and activity that were astounding in one of his + huge bulk. He had a still, smooth face, with the color of red bronze and + the expression of a cherub; big, soft, dark eyes; and a winning smile. He + was surprisingly different from Whisner or any Mormon character that + Shefford had naturally conceived. His costume was that of the cowboy on + active service; and he packed a gun at his hip. The hand-shake he gave + Shefford was an ordeal for that young man and left him with his whole + right side momentarily benumbed. + </p> + <p> + “I sure am glad to meet you,” he said in a lazy, mild voice. And he was + taking friendly stock of Shefford when the bay mustang reached with + vicious muzzle to bite at him. Lake gave a jerk on the bridle that almost + brought the mustang to his knees. He reared then, snorted, and came down + to plant his forefeet wide apart, and watched his master with defiant + eyes. This mustang was the finest horse Shefford had ever seen. He + appeared quite large for his species, was almost red in color, had a racy + and powerful build, and a fine thoroughbred head with dark, fiery eyes. He + did not look mean, but he had spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Navvy, you've sure got bad manners,” said Lake, shaking the mustang's + bridle. He spoke as if he were chiding a refractory little boy. “Didn't I + break you better'n that? What's this gentleman goin' to think of you? + Tryin' to bite my ear off!” + </p> + <p> + Lake had arrived about the middle of the forenoon, and Withers announced + his intention of packing at once for the trip. Indians were sent out on + the ranges to drive in burros and mustangs. Shefford had his thrilling + expectancy somewhat chilled by what he considered must have been Lake's + reception of the trader's plan. Lake seemed to oppose him, and evidently + it took vehemence and argument on Withers's part to make the Mormon + tractable. But Withers won him over, and then he called Shefford to his + side. + </p> + <p> + “You fellows got to be good friends,” he said. “You'll have charge of my + pack-trains. Nas Ta Bega wants to go with you. I'll feel safer about my + supplies and stock than I've ever been.... Joe, I'll back this stranger + for all I'm worth. He's square.... And, Shefford, Joe Lake is a Mormon of + the younger generation. I want to start you right. You can trust him as + you trust me. He's white clean through. And he's the best horse-wrangler + in Utah.” + </p> + <p> + It was Lake who first offered his hand, and Shefford made haste to meet it + with his own. Neither of them spoke. Shefford intuitively felt an + alteration in Lake's regard, or at least a singular increase of interest. + Lake had been told that Shefford had been a clergyman, was now a wanderer, + without any religion. Again it seemed to Shefford that he owed a forming + of friendship to this singular fact. And it hurt him. But strangely it + came to him that he had taken a liking to a Mormon. + </p> + <p> + About one o'clock the pack-train left Kayenta. Nas Ta Bega led the way up + the slope. Following him climbed half a dozen patient, plodding, heavily + laden burros. Withers came next, and he turned in his saddle to wave + good-by to his wife. Joe Lake appeared to be busy keeping a red mule and a + wild gray mustang and a couple of restive blacks in the trail. Shefford + brought up in the rear. + </p> + <p> + His mount was a beautiful black mustang with three white feet, a white + spot on his nose, and a mane that swept to his knees. “His name's + Nack-yal,” Withers had said. “It means two bits, or twenty-five cents. He + ain't worth more.” To look at Nack-yal had pleased Shefford very much + indeed, but, once upon his back, he grew dubious. The mustang acted queer. + He actually looked back at Shefford, and it was a look of speculation and + disdain. Shefford took exception to Nack-yal's manner and to his + reluctance to go, and especially to a habit the mustang had of turning off + the trail to the left. Shefford had managed some rather spirited horses + back in Illinois; and though he was willing and eager to learn all over + again, he did not enjoy the prospect of Lake and Withers seeing this black + mustang make a novice of him. And he guessed that was just what Nack-yal + intended to do. However, once up over the hill, with Kayenta out of sight, + Nack-yal trotted along fairly well, needing only now and then to be pulled + back from his strange swinging to the left off the trail. + </p> + <p> + The pack-train traveled steadily and soon crossed the upland plain to + descend into the valley again. Shefford saw the jagged red peaks with an + emotion he could not name. The canyon between them were purple in the + shadows, the great walls and slopes brightened to red, and the tips were + gold in the sun. Shefford forgot all about his mustang and the trail. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly with a pound of hoofs Nack-yal seemed to rise. He leaped sidewise + out of the trail, came down stiff-legged. Then Shefford shot out of the + saddle. He landed so hard that he was stunned for an instant. Sitting up, + he saw the mustang bent down, eyes and ears showing fight, and his + forefeet spread. He appeared to be looking at something in the trail. + Shefford got up and soon saw what had been the trouble. A long, crooked + stick, rather thick and black and yellow, lay in the trail, and any + mustang looking for an excuse to jump might have mistaken it for a + rattlesnake. Nack-yal appeared disposed to be satisfied, and gave Shefford + no trouble in mounting. The incident increased Shefford's dubiousness. + These Arizona mustangs were unknown quantities. + </p> + <p> + Thereafter Shefford had an eye for the trail rather than the scenery, and + this continued till the pack-train entered the mouth of the Sagi. Then + those wonderful lofty cliffs, with their peaks and towers and spires, + loomed so close and so beautiful that he did not care if Nack-yal did + throw him. Along here, however, the mustang behaved well, and presently + Shefford decided that if it had been otherwise he would have walked. The + trail suddenly stood on end and led down into the deep wash, where some + days before he had seen the stream of reddish water. This day there + appeared to be less water and it was not so red. Nack-yal sank deep as he + took short and careful steps down. The burros and other mustangs were + drinking, and Nack-yal followed suit. The Indian, with a hand clutching + his mustang's mane, rode up a steep, sandy slope on the other side that + Shefford would not have believed any horse could climb. The burros plodded + up and over the rim, with Withers calling to them. Joe Lake swung his rope + and cracked the flanks of the gray mare and the red mule; and the way the + two kicked was a revelation and a warning to Shefford. When his turn came + to climb the trail he got off and walked, an action that Nack-yal appeared + fully to appreciate. + </p> + <p> + From the head of this wash the trail wound away up the widening canyon, + through greasewood flats and over grassy levels and across sandy + stretches. The looming walls made the valley look narrow, yet it must have + been half a mile wide. The slopes under the cliffs were dotted with huge + stones and cedar-trees. There were deep indentations in the walls, running + back to form box canyon, choked with green of cedar and spruce and pinon. + These notches haunted Shefford, and he was ever on the lookout for more of + them. + </p> + <p> + Withers came back to ride just in advance and began to talk. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon this Sagi canyon is your Deception Pass,” he said. “It's sure a + queer hole. I've been lost more than once, hunting mustangs in here. I've + an idea Nas Ta Bega knows all this country. He just pointed out a + cliff-dwelling to me. See it?... There 'way up in that cave of the wall.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford saw a steep, rough slope leading up to a bulge of the cliff, and + finally he made out strange little houses with dark, eyelike windows. He + wanted to climb up there. Withers called his attention to more caves with + what he believed were the ruins of cliff-dwellings. And as they rode along + the trader showed him remarkable formations of rock where the elements + were slowly hollowing out a bridge. They came presently to a region of + intersecting canyon, and here the breaking of the trail up and down the + deep washes took Withers back to his task with the burros and gave + Shefford more concern than he liked with Nack-yal. The mustang grew unruly + and was continually turning to the left. Sometimes he tried to climb the + steep slope. He had to be pulled hard away from the opening canyon on the + left. It seemed strange to Shefford that the mustang never swerved to the + right. This habit of Nack-yal's and the increasing caution needed on the + trail took all of Shefford's attention. When he dismounted, however, he + had a chance to look around, and more and more he was amazed at the + increasing proportions and wildness of the Sagi. + </p> + <p> + He came at length to a place where a fallen tree blocked the trail. All of + the rest of the pack-train had jumped the log. But Nack-yal balked. + Shefford dismounted, pulled the bridle over the mustang's head, and tried + to lead him. Nack-yal, however, refused to budge. Whereupon Shefford got a + stick and, remounting, he gave the balky mustang a cut across the flank. + Then something violent happened. Shefford received a sudden propelling + jolt, and then he was rising into the air, and then falling. Before he + alighted he had a clear image of Nack-yal in the air above him, bent + double, and seemingly possessed of devils. Then Shefford hit the ground + with no light thud. He was thoroughly angry when he got dizzily upon his + feet, but he was not quick enough to catch the mustang. Nack-yal leaped + easily over the log and went on ahead, dragging his bridle. Shefford + hurried after him, and the faster he went just by so much the cunning + Nack-yal accelerated his gait. As the pack-train was out of sight + somewhere ahead, Shefford could not call to his companions to halt his + mount, so he gave up trying, and walked on now with free and growing + appreciation of his surroundings. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon had waned. The sun blazed low in the west in a notch of the + canyon ramparts, and one wall was darkening into purple shadow while the + other shone through a golden haze. It was a weird, wild world to Shefford, + and every few strides he caught his breath and tried to realize actuality + was not a dream. + </p> + <p> + Nack-yal kept about a hundred paces to the fore and ever and anon he + looked back to see how his new master was progressing. He varied these + occasions by reaching down and nipping a tuft of grass. Evidently he was + too intelligent to go on fast enough to be caught by Withers. Also he kept + continually looking up the slope to the left as if seeking a way to climb + out of the valley in that direction. Shefford thought it was well the + trail lay at the foot of a steep slope that ran up to unbroken bluffs. + </p> + <p> + The sun set and the canyon lost its red and its gold and deepened its + purple. Shefford calculated he had walked five miles, and though he did + not mind the effort, he would rather have ridden Nack-yal into camp. He + mounted a cedar ridge, crossed some sandy washes, turned a corner of bold + wall to enter a wide, green level. The mustangs were rolling and snorting. + He heard the bray of a burro. A bright blaze of camp-fire greeted him, and + the dark figure of the Indian approached to intercept and catch Nack-yal. + When he stalked into camp Withers wore a beaming smile, and Joe Lake, who + was on his knees making biscuit dough in a pan, stopped proceedings and + drawled: + </p> + <p> + “Reckon Nack-yal bucked you off.” + </p> + <p> + “Bucked! Was that it? Well, he separated himself from me in a new and + somewhat painful manner—to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I saw that in his eye,” replied Lake; and Withers laughed with him. + </p> + <p> + “Nack-yal never was well broke,” he said. “But he's a good mustang, + nothing like Joe's Navvy or that gray mare Dynamite. All this Indian stock + will buck on a man once in a while.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the bucking along with the rest,” said Shefford. Both men liked + his reply, and the Indian smiled for the first time. + </p> + <p> + Soon they all sat round a spread tarpaulin and ate like wolves. After + supper came the rest and talk before the camp-fire. Joe Lake was droll; he + said the most serious things in a way to make Shefford wonder if he was + not joking. Withers talked about the canyon, the Indians, the mustangs, + the scorpions running out of the heated sand; and to Shefford it was all + like a fascinating book. Nas Ta Bega smoked in silence, his brooding eyes + upon the fire. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. ON THE TRAIL + </h2> + <p> + Shefford was awakened next morning by a sound he had never heard before—the + plunging of hobbled horses on soft turf. It was clear daylight, with a + ruddy color in the sky and a tinge of red along the canyon rim. He saw + Withers, Lake, and the Indian driving the mustangs toward camp. + </p> + <p> + The burros appeared lazy, yet willing. But the mustangs and the mule + Withers called Red and the gray mare Dynamite were determined not to be + driven into camp. It was astonishing how much action they had, how much + ground they could cover with their forefeet hobbled together. They were + exceedingly skilful; they lifted both forefeet at once, and then plunged. + And they all went in different directions. Nas Ta Bega darted in here and + there to head off escape. + </p> + <p> + Shefford pulled on his boots and went out to help. He got too close to the + gray mare and, warned by a yell from Withers, he jumped back just in time + to avoid her vicious heels. Then Shefford turned his attention to Nack-yal + and chased him all over the flat in a futile effort to catch him. Nas Ta + Bega came to Shefford's assistance and put a rope over Nack-yal's head. + </p> + <p> + “Don't ever get behind one of these mustangs,” said Withers, warningly, as + Shefford came up. “You might be killed.... Eat your bite now. We'll soon + be out of here.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford had been late in awakening. The others had breakfasted. He found + eating somewhat difficult in the excitement that ensued. Nas Ta Bega held + ropes which were round the necks of Red and Dynamite. The mule showed his + cunning and always appeared to present his heels to Withers, who tried to + approach him with a pack-saddle. The patience of the trader was a + revelation to Shefford. And at length Red was cornered by the three men, + the pack-saddle was strapped on, and then the packs. Red promptly bucked + the packs off, and the work had to be done over again. Then Red dropped + his long ears and seemed ready to be tractable. + </p> + <p> + When Shefford turned his attention to Dynamite he decided that this was + his first sight of a wild horse. The gray mare had fiery eyes that rolled + and showed the white. She jumped straight up, screamed, pawed, bit, and + then plunged down to shoot her hind hoofs into the air as high as her head + had been. She was amazingly agile and she seemed mad to kill something. + She dragged the Indian about, and when Joe Lake got a rope on her hind + foot she dragged them both. They lashed her with the ends of the lassoes, + which action only made her kick harder. She plunged into camp, drove + Shefford flying for his life, knocked down two of the burros, and played + havoc with the unstrapped packs. Withers ran to the assistance of Lake, + and the two of them hauled back with all their strength and weight. They + were both powerful and heavy men. Dynamite circled round and finally, + after kicking the camp-fire to bits, fell down on her haunches in the hot + embers. “Let—her—set—there!” panted Withers. And Joe + Lake shouted, “Burn up, you durn coyote!” Both men appeared delighted that + she had brought upon herself just punishment. Dynamite sat in the remains + of the fire long enough to get burnt, and then she got up and meekly + allowed Withers to throw a tarpaulin and a roll of blankets over her and + tie them fast. + </p> + <p> + Lake and Withers were sweating freely when this job was finished. + </p> + <p> + “Say, is that a usual morning's task with the pack-animals?” asked + Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “They're all pretty decent to-day, except Dynamite,” replied Withers. + “She's got to be worked out.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford felt both amusement and consternation. The sun was just rising + over the ramparts of the canyon, and he had already seen more difficult + and dangerous work accomplished than half a dozen men of his type could do + in a whole day. He liked the outlook of his new duty as Withers's + assistant, but he felt helplessly inefficient. Still, all he needed was + experience. He passed over what he anticipated would be pain and peril—the + cost was of no moment. + </p> + <p> + Soon the pack-train was on the move, with the Indian leading. This morning + Nack-yal began his strange swinging off to the left, precisely as he had + done the day before. It got to be annoying to Shefford, and he lost + patience with the mustang and jerked him sharply round. This, however, had + no great effect upon Nack-yal. + </p> + <p> + As the train headed straight up the canyon Joe Lake dropped back to ride + beside Shefford. The Mormon had been amiable and friendly. + </p> + <p> + “Flock of deer up that draw,” he said, pointing up a narrow side canyon. + </p> + <p> + Shefford gazed to see a half-dozen small, brown, long-eared objects, very + like burros, watching the pack-train pass. + </p> + <p> + “Are they deer?” he asked, delightedly. + </p> + <p> + “Sure are,” replied Joe, sincerely. “Get down and shoot one. There's a + rifle in your saddle-sheath.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford had already discovered that he had been armed this morning, a + matter which had caused him reflection. These animals certainly looked + like deer; he had seen a few deer, though not in their native wild haunts; + and he experienced the thrill of the hunter. Dismounting, he drew the + rifle out of the sheath and started toward the little canyon. + </p> + <p> + “Hyar! Where you going with that gun?” yelled Withers. “That's a bunch of + burros.... Joe's up to his old tricks. Shefford, look out for Joe!” + </p> + <p> + Rather sheepishly Shefford returned to his mustang and sheathed the rifle, + and then took a long look at the animals up the draw. They, resembled + deer, but upon second glance they surely were burros. + </p> + <p> + “Durn me! Now if I didn't think they sure were deer!” exclaimed Joe. He + appeared absolutely sincere and innocent. Shefford hardly knew how to take + this likable Mormon, but vowed he would be on his guard in the future. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega soon led the pack-train toward the left wall of the canyon, + and evidently intended to scale it. Shefford could not see any trail, and + the wall appeared steep and insurmountable. But upon nearing the cliff he + saw a narrow broken trail leading zigzag up over smooth rock, weathered + slope, and through cracks. + </p> + <p> + “Spread out, and careful now!” yelled Withers. + </p> + <p> + The need of both advices soon became manifest to Shefford. The burros + started stones rolling, making danger for those below. Shefford dismounted + and led Nack-yal and turned aside many a rolling rock. The Indian and the + burros, with the red mule leading, climbed steadily. But the mustangs had + trouble. Joe's spirited bay had to be coaxed to face the ascent; Nack-yal + balked at every difficult step; and Dynamite slipped on a flat slant of + rock and slid down forty feet. Withers and Lake with ropes hauled the mare + out of the dangerous position. Shefford, who brought up the rear, saw all + the action, and it was exciting, but his pleasure in the climb was spoiled + by sight of blood and hair on the stones. The ascent was crooked, steep, + and long, and when Shefford reached the top of the wall he was glad to + rest. It made him gasp to look down and see what he had surmounted. The + canyon floor, green and level, lay a thousand feet below; and the wild + burros which had followed on the trail looked like rabbits. + </p> + <p> + Shefford mounted presently, and rode out upon a wide, smooth trail leading + into a cedar forest. There were bunches of gray sage in the open places. + The air was cool and crisp, laden with a sweet fragrance. He saw Lake and + Withers bobbing along, now on one side of the trail, now on the other, and + they kept to a steady trot. Occasionally the Indian and his bright-red + saddle-blanket showed in an opening of the cedars. + </p> + <p> + It was level country, and there was nothing for Shefford to see except + cedar and sage, an outcropping of red rock in places, and the winding + trail. Mocking-birds made melody everywhere. Shefford seemed full of a + strange pleasure, and the hours flew by. Nack-yal still wanted to be + everlastingly turning off the trail, and, moreover, now he wanted to go + faster. He was eager, restless, dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + At noon the pack-train descended into a deep draw, well covered with cedar + and sage. There was plenty of grass and shade, but no water. Shefford was + surprised to see that every pack was removed; however, the roll of + blankets was left on Dynamite. + </p> + <p> + The men made a fire and began to cook a noonday meal. Shefford, tired and + warm, sat in a shady spot and watched. He had become all eyes. He had + almost forgotten Fay Larkin; he had forgotten his trouble; and the present + seemed sweet and full. Presently his ears were filled by a pattering roar + and, looking up the draw, he saw two streams of sheep and goats coming + down. Soon an Indian shepherd appeared, riding a fine mustang. A + cream-colored colt bounded along behind, and presently a shaggy dog came + in sight. The Indian dismounted at the camp, and his flock spread by in + two white and black streams. The dog went with them. Withers and Joe shook + hands with the Indian, whom Joe called “Navvy,” and Shefford lost no time + in doing likewise. Then Nas Ta Bega came in, and he and the Navajo talked. + When the meal was ready all of them sat down round the canvas. The + shepherd did not tie his horse. + </p> + <p> + Presently Shefford noticed that Nack-yal had returned to camp and was + acting strangely. Evidently he was attracted by the Indian's mustang or + the cream-colored colt. At any rate, Nack-yal hung around, tossed his + head, whinnied in a low, nervous manner, and looked strangely eager and + wild. Shefford was at first amused, then curious. Nack-yal approached too + close to the mother of the colt, and she gave him a sounding kick in the + ribs. Nack-yal uttered a plaintive snort and backed away, to stand, + crestfallen, with all his eagerness and fire vanished. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega pointed to the mustang and said something in his own tongue. + Then Withers addressed the visiting Indian, and they exchanged some words, + whereupon the trader turned to Shefford: + </p> + <p> + “I bought Nack-yal from this Indian three years ago. This mare is + Nack-yal's mother. He was born over here to the south. That's why he + always swung left off the trail. He wanted to go home. Just now he + recognized his mother and she whaled away and gave him a whack for his + pains. She's got a colt now and probably didn't recognize Nack-yal. But + he's broken-hearted.” + </p> + <p> + The trader laughed, and Joe said, “You can't tell what these durn mustangs + will do.” Shefford felt sorry for Nack-yal, and when it came time to + saddle him again found him easier to handle than ever before. Nack-yal + stood with head down, broken-spirited. + </p> + <p> + Shefford was the first to ride up out of the draw, and once upon the top + of the ridge he halted to gaze, wide-eyed and entranced. A rolling, + endless plain sloped down beneath him, and led him on to a distant + round-topped mountain. To the right a red canyon opened its jagged jaws, + and away to the north rose a whorled and strange sea of curved ridges, + crags, and domes. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega rode up then, leading the pack-train. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai, that is Na-tsis-an,” he said, pointing to the mountain. “Navajo + Mountain. And there in the north are the canyon.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford followed the Indian down the trail and soon lost sight of that + wide green-and-red wilderness. Nas Ta Bega turned at an intersecting + trail, rode down into the canyon, and climbed out on the other side. + Shefford got a glimpse now and then of the black dome of the mountain, but + for the most part the distant points of the country were hidden. They + crossed many trails, and went up and down the sides of many shallow + canyon. Troops of wild mustangs whistled at them, stood on ridge-tops to + watch, and then dashed away with manes and tails flying. + </p> + <p> + Withers rode forward presently and halted the pack-train. He had some + conversation with Nas Ta Bega, whereupon the Indian turned his horse and + trotted back, to disappear in the cedars. + </p> + <p> + “I'm some worried,” explained Withers. “Joe thinks he saw a bunch of + horsemen trailing us. My eyes are bad and I can't see far. The Indian will + find out. I took a roundabout way to reach the village because I'm always + dodging Shadd.” + </p> + <p> + This communication lent an added zest to the journey. Shefford could + hardly believe the truth that his eyes and his ears brought to his + consciousness. He turned in behind Withers and rode down the rough trail, + helping the mustang all in his power. It occurred to him that Nack-yal had + been entirely different since that meeting with his mother in the draw. He + turned no more off the trail; he answered readily to the rein; he did not + look afar from every ridge. Shefford conceived a liking for the mustang. + </p> + <p> + Withers turned sidewise in his saddle and let his mustang pick the way. + </p> + <p> + “Another time we'll go up round the base of the mountain, where you can + look down on the grandest scene in the world,” said he. “Two hundred miles + of wind-worn rock, all smooth and bare, without a single straight line—canyon, + caves, bridges—the most wonderful country in the world! Even the + Indians haven't explored it. It's haunted, for them, and they have strange + gods. The Navajos will hunt on this side of the mountain, but not on the + other. That north side is consecrated ground. My wife has long been trying + to get the Navajos to tell her the secret of Nonnezoshe. Nonnezoshe means + Rainbow Bridge. The Indians worship it, but as far as she can find out + only a few have ever seen it. I imagine it'd be worth some trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe that's the bridge Venters talked about—the one overarching + the entrance to Surprise Valley,” Said Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “It might be,” replied the trader. “You've got a good chance of finding + out. Nas Ta Bega is the man. You stick to that Indian. ... Well, we start + down here into this canyon, and we go down some, I reckon. In half an hour + you'll see sago-lilies and Indian paint-brush and vermilion cactus.” + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + About the middle of the afternoon the pack-train and its drivers arrived + at the hidden Mormon village. Nas Ta Bega had not returned from his scout + back along the trail. + </p> + <p> + Shefford's sensibilities had all been overstrained, but he had left in him + enthusiasm and appreciation that made the situation of this village a + fairyland. It was a valley, a canyon floor, so long that he could not see + the end, and perhaps a quarter of a mile wide. The air was hot, still, and + sweetly odorous of unfamiliar flowers. Pinon and cedar trees surrounded + the little log and stone houses, and along the walls of the canyon stood + sharp-pointed, dark-green spruce-trees. These walls were singular of shape + and color. They were not imposing in height, but they waved like the long, + undulating swell of a sea. Every foot of surface was perfectly smooth, and + the long curved lines of darker tinge that streaked the red followed the + rounded line of the slope at the top. Far above, yet overhanging, were + great yellow crags and peaks, and between these, still higher, showed the + pine-fringed slope of Navajo Mountain with snow in the sheltered places, + and glistening streams, like silver threads, running down. + </p> + <p> + All this Shefford noticed as he entered the valley from round a corner of + wall. Upon nearer view he saw and heard a host of children, who, looking + up to see the intruders, scattered like frightened quail. Long gray grass + covered the ground, and here and there wide, smooth paths had been worn. A + swift and murmuring brook ran through the middle of the valley, and its + banks were bordered with flowers. + </p> + <p> + Withers led the way to one side near the wall, where a clump of + cedar-trees and a dark, swift spring boiling out of the rocks and banks of + amber moss with purple blossoms made a beautiful camp site. Here the + mustangs were unsaddled and turned loose without hobbles. It was certainly + unlikely that they would leave such a spot. Some of the burros were + unpacked, and the others Withers drove off into the village. + </p> + <p> + “Sure's pretty nice,” said Joe, wiping his sweaty face. “I'll never want + to leave. It suits me to lie on this moss.... Take a drink of that + spring.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford complied with alacrity and found the water cool and sweet, and he + seemed to feel it all through him. Then he returned to the mossy bank. He + did not reply to Joe. In fact, all his faculties were absorbed in watching + and feeling, and he lay there long after Joe went off to the village. The + murmur of water, the hum of bees, the songs of strange birds, the sweet, + warm air, the dreamy summer somnolence of the valley—all these added + drowsiness to Shefford's weary lassitude, and he fell asleep. When he + awoke Nas Ta Bega was sitting near him and Joe was busy near a camp-fire. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Nas Ta Bega!” said Shefford. “Was there any one trailing us?” + </p> + <p> + The Navajo nodded. + </p> + <p> + Joe raised his head and with forceful brevity said, “Shadd.” + </p> + <p> + “Shadd!” echoed Shefford, remembering the dark, sinister face of his + visitor that night in the Sagi. “Joe, is it serious—his trailing + us?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know how durn serious it is, but I'm scared to death,” + replied Lake. “He and his gang will hold us up somewhere on the way home.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford regarded Joe with both concern and doubt. Joe's words were at + variance with his looks. + </p> + <p> + “Say, pard, can you shoot a rifle?” queried Joe. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'm a fair shot at targets.” + </p> + <p> + The Mormon nodded his head as if pleased. “That's good. These outlaws are + all poor shots with a rifle. So 'm I. But I can handle a six-shooter. I + reckon we'll make Shadd sweat if he pushes us.” + </p> + <p> + Withers returned, driving the burros, all of which had been unpacked down + to the saddles. Two gray-bearded men accompanied him. One of them appeared + to be very old and venerable, and walked with a stick. The other had a + sad-lined face and kind, mild blue eyes. Shefford observed that Lake + seemed unusually respectful. Withers introduced these Mormons merely as + Smith and Henninger. They were very cordial and pleasant in their + greetings to Shefford. Presently another, somewhat younger, man joined the + group, a stalwart, jovial fellow with ruddy face. There was certainly no + mistaking his kindly welcome as he shook Shefford's hand. His name was + Beal. The three stood round the camp-fire for a while, evidently glad of + the presence of fellow-men and to hear news from the outside. Finally they + went away, taking Joe with them. Withers took up the task of getting + supper where Joe had been made to leave it. + </p> + <p> + “Shefford, listen,” he said, presently, as he knelt before the fire. “I + told them right out that you'd been a Gentile clergyman—that you'd + gone back on your religion. It impressed them and you've been well + received. I'll tell the same thing over at Stonebridge. You'll get in + right. Of course I don't expect they'll make a Mormon of you. But they'll + try to. Meanwhile you can be square and friendly all the time you're + trying to find your Fay Larkin. To-morrow you'll meet some of the women. + They're good souls, but, like any women, crazy for news. Think what it is + to be shut up in here between these walls!” + </p> + <p> + “Withers, I'm intensely interested,” replied Shefford, “and excited, too. + Shall we stay here long?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll stay a couple of days, then go to Stonebridge with Joe. He'll come + back here, and when you both feel like leaving, and if Nas Ta Bega thinks + it safe, you'll take a trail over to some Indian hogans and pack me out a + load of skins and blankets.... My boy, you've all the time there is, and I + wish you luck. This isn't a bad place to loaf. I always get sentimental + over here. Maybe it's the women. Some of them are pretty, and one of them—Shefford, + they call her the Sago Lily. Her first name is Mary, I'm told. Don't know + her last name. She's lovely. And I'll bet you forget Fay Larkin in a + flash. Only—be careful. You drop in here with rather peculiar + credentials, so to speak—as my helper and as a man with no religion! + You'll not only be fully trusted, but you'll be welcome to these lonely + women. So be careful. Remember it's my secret belief they are sealed wives + and are visited occasionally at night by their husbands. I don't know + this, but I believe it. And you're not supposed to dream of that.” + </p> + <p> + “How many men in the village?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Three. You met them.” + </p> + <p> + “Have they wives?” asked Shefford, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Wives! Well, I guess. But only one each that I know of. Joe Lake is the + only unmarried Mormon I've met.” + </p> + <p> + “And no men—strangers, cowboys, outlaws—ever come to this + village?” + </p> + <p> + “Except to Indians, it seems to be a secret so far,” replied the trader, + earnestly. “But it can't be kept secret. I've said that time after time + over in Stonebridge. With Mormons it's 'sufficient unto the day is the + evil thereof.'” + </p> + <p> + “What'll happen when outsiders do learn and ride in here?” + </p> + <p> + “There'll be trouble—maybe bloodshed. Mormon women are absolutely + good, but they're human, and want and need a little life. And, strange to + say, Mormon men are pig-headedly jealous.... Why, if some of the cowboys I + knew in Durango would ride over here there'd simply be hell. But that's a + long way, and probably this village will be deserted before news of it + ever reaches Colorado. There's more danger of Shadd and his gang coming + in. Shadd's half Piute. He must know of this place. And he's got some + white outlaws in his gang.... Come on. Grub's ready, and I'm too hungry to + talk.” + </p> + <p> + Later, when shadows began to gather in the valley and the lofty peaks + above were gold in the sunset glow, Withers left camp to look after the + straying mustangs, and Shefford strolled to and fro under the cedars. The + lights and shades in the Sagi that first night had moved him to + enthusiastic watchfulness, but here they were so weird and beautiful that + he was enraptured. He actually saw great shafts of gold and shadows of + purple streaming from the peaks down into the valley. It was day on the + heights and twilight in the valley. The swiftly changing colors were like + rainbows. + </p> + <p> + While he strolled up and down several women came to the spring and filled + their buckets. They wore shawls or hoods and their garments were somber, + but, nevertheless, they appeared to have youth and comeliness. They saw + him, looked at him curiously, and then, without speaking, went back on the + well-trodden path. Presently down the path appeared a woman—a girl + in lighter garb. It was almost white. She was shapely and walked with + free, graceful step, reminding him of the Indian girl, Glen Naspa. This + one wore a hood shaped like a huge sunbonnet and it concealed her face. + She carried a bucket. When she reached the spring and went down the few + stone steps Shefford saw that she did not have on shoes. As she braced + herself to lift the bucket her bare foot clung to the mossy stone. It was + a strong, sinewy, beautiful foot, instinct with youth. He was curious + enough, he thought, but the awakening artist in him made him more so. She + dragged at the full bucket and had difficulty in lifting it out of the + hole. Shefford strode forward and took the bucket-handle from her. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you let me help you?” he said, lifting the bucket. “Indeed—it's + very heavy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—thank you,” she said, without raising her head. Her voice seemed + singularly young and sweet. He had not heard a voice like it. She moved + down the path and he walked beside her. He felt embarrassed, yet more + curious than ever; he wanted to say something, to turn and look at her, + but he kept on for a dozen paces without making up his mind. + </p> + <p> + Finally he said: “Do you really carry this heavy bucket? Why, it makes my + arm ache.” + </p> + <p> + “Twice every day—morning and evening,” she replied. “I'm very + strong.” + </p> + <p> + Then he stole a look out of the corner of his eye, and, seeing that her + face was hidden from him by the hood, he turned to observe her at better + advantage. A long braid of hair hung down her back. In the twilight it + gleamed dull gold. She came up to his shoulder. The sleeve nearest him was + rolled up to her elbow, revealing a fine round arm. Her hand, like her + foot, was brown, strong, and well shaped. It was a hand that had been + developed by labor. She was full-bosomed, yet slender, and she walked with + a free stride that made Shefford admire and wonder. + </p> + <p> + They passed several of the little stone and log houses, and women greeted + them as they went by and children peered shyly from the doors. He kept + trying to think of something to say, and, failing in that, determined to + have one good look under the hood before he left her. + </p> + <p> + “You walk lame,” she said, solicitously. “Let me carry the bucket now—please. + My house is near.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I lame?... Guess so, a little,” he replied. “It was a hard ride for + me. But I'll carry the bucket just the same.” + </p> + <p> + They went on under some pinon-trees, down a path to a little house + identical with the others, except that it had a stone porch. Shefford + smelled fragrant wood-smoke and saw a column curling from the low, flat, + stone chimney. Then he set the bucket down on the porch. “Thank you, Mr. + Shefford,” she said. “You know my name?” he asked. “Yes. Mr. Withers spoke + to my nearest neighbor and she told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see. And you—” + </p> + <p> + He did not go on and she did not reply. When she stepped upon the porch + and turned he was able to see under the hood. The face there was in + shadow, and for that very reason he answered to ungovernable impulse and + took a step closer to her. Dark, grave, sad eyes looked down at him, and + he felt as if he could never draw his own glance away. He seemed not to + see the rest of her face, and yet felt that it was lovely. Then a downward + movement of the hood hid from him the strange eyes and the shadowy + loveliness. + </p> + <p> + “I—I beg your pardon,” he said, quickly, drawing back. “I'm rude. + ... Withers told me about a girl he called—he said looked like a + sago-lily. That's no excuse to stare under your hood. But I—I was + curious. I wondered if—” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, realizing how foolish his talk was. She stood a moment, + probably watching him, but he could not be sure, for her face was hidden. + </p> + <p> + “They call me that,” she said. “But my name is Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary—what?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Just Mary,” she said, simply. “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + He did not say good night and could not have told why. She took up the + bucket and went into the dark house. Shefford hurried away into the + gathering darkness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. IN THE HIDDEN VALLEY + </h2> + <p> + Shefford had hardly seen her face, yet he was more interested in a woman + than he had ever been before. Still, he reflected, as he returned to camp, + he had been under a long strain, he was unduly excited by this new and + adventurous life, and these, with the mystery of this village, were + perhaps accountable for a state of mind that could not last. + </p> + <p> + He rolled in his blankets on the soft bed of moss and he saw the stars + through the needle-like fringe of the pinyons. It seemed impossible to + fall asleep. The two domed peaks split the sky, and back of them, looming + dark and shadowy, rose the mountain. There was something cold, austere, + and majestic in their lofty presence, and they made him feel alone, yet + not alone. He raised himself to see the quiet forms of Withers and Nas Ta + Bega prone in the starlight, and their slow, deep breathing was that of + tired men. A bell on a mustang rang somewhere off in the valley and gave + out a low, strange, reverberating echo from wall to wall. When it ceased a + silence set in that was deader than any silence he had ever felt, but + gradually he became aware of the low murmur of the brook. For the rest + there was no sound of wind, no bark of dog or yelp of coyote, no sound of + voice in the village. + </p> + <p> + He tried to sleep, but instead thought of this girl who was called the + Sago Lily. He recalled everything incident to their meeting and the walk + to her home. Her swift, free step, her graceful poise, her shapely form—the + long braid of hair, dull gold in the twilight, the beautiful bare foot and + the strong round arm—these he thought of and recalled vividly. But + of her face he had no idea except the shadowy, haunting loveliness, and + that grew more and more difficult to remember. The tone of her voice and + what she had said—how the one had thrilled him and the other + mystified! It was her voice that had most attracted him. There was + something in it besides music—what, he could not tell—sadness, + depth, something like that in Nas Ta Bega's beauty springing from disuse. + But this seemed absurd. Why should he imagine her voice one that had not + been used as freely as any other woman's? She was a Mormon; very likely, + almost surely, she was a sealed wife. His interest, too, was absurd, and + he tried to throw it off, or imagine it one he might have felt in any + other of these strange women of the hidden village. + </p> + <p> + But Shefford's intelligence and his good sense, which became operative + when he was fully roused and set the situation clearly before his eyes, + had no effect upon his deeper, mystic, and primitive feelings. He saw the + truth and he felt something that he could not name. He would not be a + fool, but there was no harm in dreaming. And unquestionably, beyond all + doubt, the dream and the romance that had lured him to the wilderness were + here; hanging over him like the shadows of the great peaks. His heart + swelled with emotion when he thought of how the black and incessant + despair of the past was gone. So he embraced any attraction that made him + forget and think and feel; some instinct stronger than intelligence bade + him drift. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Joe's rolling voice awoke him next morning and he rose with a singular + zest. When or where in his life had he awakened in such a beautiful place? + Almost he understood why Venters and Bess had been haunted by memories of + Surprise Valley. The morning was clear, cool, sweet; the peaks were dim + and soft in rosy cloud; shafts of golden sunlight shot down into the + purple shadows. Mocking-birds were singing. His body was sore and tired + from the unaccustomed travel, but his heart was full, happy. His spirit + wanted to run, and he knew there was something out there waiting to meet + it. The Indian and the trader and the Mormon all meant more to him this + morning. He had grown a little overnight. Nas Ta Bega's deep “Bi Nai” rang + in his ears, and the smiles of Withers and Joe were greetings. He had + friends; he had work; and there was rich, strange, and helpful life to + live. There was even a difference in the mustang Nack-yal. He came + readily; he did not look wild; he had a friendly eye; and Shefford liked + him more. + </p> + <p> + “What is there to do?” asked Shefford, feeling equal to a hundred tasks. + </p> + <p> + “No work,” replied the trader, with a laugh, and he drew Shefford aside, + “I'm in no hurry. I like it here. And Joe never wants to leave. To-day you + can meet the women. Make yourself popular. I've already made you that. + These women are most all young and lonesome. Talk to them. Make them like + you. Then some day you may be safe to ask questions. Last night I wanted + to ask old Mother Smith if she ever heard the name Fay Larkin. But I + thought better of it. If there's a girl here or at Stonebridge of that + name we'll learn it. If there's mystery we'd better go slow. Mormons are + hell on secret and mystery, and to pry into their affairs is to queer + yourself. My advice is—just be as nice as you can be, and let things + happen.” + </p> + <p> + Fay Larkin! All in a night Shefford had forgotten her. Why? He pondered + over the matter, and then the old thrill, the old desire, came back. + </p> + <p> + “Shefford, what do you think Nas Ta Bega said to me last night?” asked + Withers in lower voice. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't any idea,” replied Shefford, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “We were sitting beside the fire. I saw you walking under the cedars. You + seemed thoughtful. That keen Indian watched you, and he said to me in + Navajo, 'Bi Nai has lost his God. He has come far to find a wife. Nas Ta + Bega is his brother.'... He meant he'll find both God and wife for you. I + don't know about that, but I say take the Indian as he thinks he is—your + brother. Long before I knew Nas Ta Bega well my wife used to tell me about + him. He's a sage and a poet—the very spirit of this desert. He's + worth cultivating for his own sake. But more—remember, if Fay Larkin + is still shut in that valley the Navajo will find her for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall take Nas Ta Bega as my brother—and be proud,” replied + Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “There's another thing. Do you intend to confide in Joe?” + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't thought of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it might be a good plan. But wait until you know him better and he + knows you. He's ready to fight for you now. He's taken your trouble to + heart. You wouldn't think Joe is deeply religious. Yet he is. He may never + breathe a word about religion to you.... Now, Shefford, go ahead. You've + struck a trail. It's rough, but it'll make a man of you. It'll lead + somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm singularly fortunate—I—who had lost all friends. Withers, + I am grateful. I'll prove it. I'll show—” + </p> + <p> + Withers's upheld hand checked further speech, and Shefford realized that + beneath the rough exterior of this desert trader there was fine feeling. + These men of crude toil and wild surroundings were beginning to loom up + large in Shefford's mind. + </p> + <p> + The day began leisurely. The men were yet at breakfast when the women of + the village began to come one by one to the spring. Joe Lake made friendly + and joking remarks to each. And as each one passed on down the path he + poised a biscuit in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, and with + his head cocked sidewise like an owl he said, “Reckon I've got to get me a + woman like her.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford saw and heard, yet he was all the time half unconsciously + watching with strange eagerness for a white figure to appear. At last he + saw her—the same girl with the hood, the same swift step. A little + shock or quiver passed over him, and at the moment all that was explicable + about it was something associated with regret. + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake whistled and stared. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't met her,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “That's the Sago Lily,” said Withers. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I'm going to carry that bucket,” went on Joe. + </p> + <p> + “And queer yourself with all the other women who've been to the spring? + Don't do it, Joe,” advised the trader. + </p> + <p> + “But her bucket's bigger,” protested Joe, weakly. + </p> + <p> + “That's true. But you ought to know Mormons. If she'd come first, all + right. As she didn't—why, don't single her out.” + </p> + <p> + Joe kept his seat. The girl came to the spring. A low “good morning” came + from under the hood. Then she filled her bucket and started home. Shefford + observed that this time she wore moccasins and she carried the heavy + bucket with ease. When she disappeared he had again the vague, + inexplicable sensation of regret. + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake breathed heavily. “Reckon I've got to get me a woman like her,” + he said. But the former jocose tone was lacking and he appeared + thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Withers first took Shefford to the building used for a school. It was + somewhat larger than the other houses, had only one room with two doors + and several windows. It was full of children, of all sizes and ages, + sitting on rude board benches. + </p> + <p> + There were half a hundred of them, sturdy, healthy, rosy boys and girls, + clad in home-made garments. The young woman teacher was as embarrassed as + her pupils were shy, and the visitors withdrew without having heard a word + of lessons. + </p> + <p> + Withers then called upon Smith, Henninger, and Beal, and their wives. + Shefford found himself cordially received, and what little he did say + showed him how he would be listened to when he cared to talk. These folk + were plain and kindly, and he found that there was nothing about them to + dislike. The men appeared mild and quiet, and when not conversing seemed + austere. The repose of the women was only on the surface; underneath he + felt their intensity. Especially in many of the younger women, whom he met + in the succeeding hour, did he feel this power of restrained emotion. This + surprised him, as did also the fact that almost every one of them was + attractive and some of them were exceedingly pretty. He became so + interested in them all as a whole that he could not individualize one. + They were as widely different in appearance and temperament as women of + any other class, but it seemed to Shefford that one common trait united + them—and it was a strange, checked yearning for something that he + could not discover. Was it happiness? They certainly seemed to be happy, + far more so than those millions of women who were chasing phantoms. Were + they really sealed wives, as Withers believed, and was this unnatural + wife-hood responsible for the strange intensity? At any rate he returned + to camp with the conviction that he had stumbled upon a remarkable + situation. + </p> + <p> + He had been told the last names of only three women, and their husbands + were in the village. The names of the others were Ruth, Rebecca, Joan—he + could not recall them all. They were the mothers of these beautiful + children. The fathers, as far as he was concerned, were as intangible as + myths. Shefford was an educated clergyman, a man of the world, and, as + such, knew women in his way. Mormons might be strange and different, yet + the fundamental truth was that all over the world mothers of children were + wives; there was a relation between wife and mother that did not need to + be named to be felt; and he divined from this that, whatever the situation + of these lonely and hidden women, they knew themselves to be wives. + Shefford absolutely satisfied himself on that score. If they were + miserable they certainly did not show it, and the question came to him how + just was the criticism of uninformed men? His judgment of Mormons had been + established by what he had heard and read, rather than what he knew. He + wanted now to have an open mind. He had studied the totemism and exogamy + of the primitive races, and here was his opportunity to understand + polygamy. One wife for one man—that was the law. Mormons broke it + openly; Gentiles broke it secretly. Mormons acknowledged all their wives + and protected their children; Gentiles acknowledged one wife only. + Unquestionably the Mormons were wrong, but were not the Gentiles still + more wrong? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + The following day Joe Lake appeared reluctant to start for Stonebridge + with Withers. + </p> + <p> + “Joe, you'd better come along,” said the trader, dryly. “I reckon you've + seen a little too much of the Sago Lily.” + </p> + <p> + Lake offered no reply, but it was evident from his sober face that Withers + had not hit short of the mark. Withers rode off, with a parting word to + Shefford, and finally Joe somberly mounted his bay and trotted down the + valley. As Nas Ta Bega had gone off somewhere to visit Indians, Shefford + was left alone. + </p> + <p> + He went into the village and made himself useful and agreeable. He made + friends with the children and he talked to the women until he was hoarse. + Their ignorance of the world was a spur to him, and never in his life had + he had such an attentive audience. And as he showed no curiosity, asked no + difficult questions, gradually what reserve he had noted wore away, and + the end of the day saw him on a footing with them that Withers had + predicted. + </p> + <p> + By the time several like days had passed it seemed from the interest and + friendliness of these women that he might have lived long among them. He + was possessed of wit and eloquence and information, which he freely gave, + and not with selfish motive. He liked these women; he liked to see the + somber shade pass from their faces, to see them brighten. He had met the + girl Mary at the spring and along the path, but he had not yet seen her + face. He was always looking for her, hoping to meet her, and confessed to + himself that the best of the day for him were the morning and evening + visits she made to the spring. Nevertheless, for some reason hard to + divine, he was reluctant to seek her deliberately. + </p> + <p> + Always while he had listened to her neighbors' talk, he had hoped they + might let fall something about her. But they did not. He received an + impression that she was not so intimate with the others as he had + supposed. They all made one big family. Still, she seemed a little + outside. He could bring no proofs to strengthen this idea. He merely felt + it, and many of his feelings were independent of intelligent reason. + Something had been added to curiosity, that was sure. + </p> + <p> + It was his habit to call upon Mother Smith in the afternoons. From the + first her talk to him hinted of a leaning toward thought of making him a + Mormon. Her husband and the other men took up her cue and spoke of their + religion, casually at first, but gradually opening their minds to free and + simple discussion of their faith. Shefford lent respectful attention. He + would rather have been a Mormon than an atheist, and apparently they + considered him the latter, and were earnest to save his soul. Shefford + knew that he could never be one any more than the other. He was just at + sea. But he listened, and he found them simple in faith, blind, perhaps, + but loyal and good. It was noteworthy that Mother Smith happened to be the + only woman in the village who had ever mentioned religion to him. She was + old, of a past generation; the young women belonged to the present. + Shefford pondered the significant difference. + </p> + <p> + Every day made more steadfast his impression of the great mystery that was + like a twining shadow round these women, yet in the same time many little + ideas shifted and many new characteristics became manifest. This last was + of course the result of acquaintance; he was learning more about the + villagers. He gathered from keen interpretation of subtle words and looks + that here in this lonely village, the same as in all the rest of the world + where women were together, there were cliques, quarrels, dislikes, loves, + and jealousies. The truth, once known to him, made him feel natural and + fortified his confidence to meet the demands of an increasingly + interesting position. He discovered, with a somewhat grim amusement, that + a clergyman's experience in a church full of women had not been entirely + useless. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon he let fall a careless remark that was a subtle question in + regard to the girl Mary, whom Withers called the Sago Lily. In response he + received an answer couched in the sweet poisoned honey of woman's + jealousy. He said no more. Certain ideas of his were strengthened, and + straightway he became thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon late, as he did his camp chores, he watched for her. But + she did not come. Then he decided to go to see her. But even the decision + and the strange thrill it imparted did not change his reluctance. + </p> + <p> + Twilight was darkening the valley when he reached her house, and the + shadows were thick under the pinyons. There was no light in the door or + window. He saw a white shape on the porch, and as he came down the path it + rose. It was the girl Mary, and she appeared startled. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening,” he said. “It's Shefford. May I stay and talk a little + while?” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for so long that he began to feel awkward. + </p> + <p> + “I'd be glad to have you,” she replied, finally. + </p> + <p> + There was a bench on the porch, but he preferred to sit upon a blanket on + the step. + </p> + <p> + “I've been getting acquainted with everybody—except you,” he went + on. + </p> + <p> + “I have been here,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + That might have been a woman's speech, but it certainly had been made in a + girl's voice. She was neither shy nor embarrassed nor self-conscious. As + she stood back from him he could not see her face in the dense twilight. + </p> + <p> + “I've been wanting to call on you.” + </p> + <p> + She made some slight movement. Shefford felt a strange calm, yet he knew + the moment was big and potent. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you sit here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She complied with his wish, and then he saw her face, though dimly, in the + twilight. And it struck him mute. But he had no glimpse such as had + flashed upon him from under her hood that other night. He thought of a + white flower in shadow, and received his first impression of the rare and + perfect lily Withers had said graced the wild canyon. She was only a girl. + She sat very still, looking straight before her, and seemed to be waiting, + listening. Shefford saw the quick rise and fall of her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “I want to talk,” he began, swiftly, hoping to put her at her ease. “Every + one here has been good to me and I've talked—oh, for hours and + hours. But the thing in my mind I haven't spoken of. I've never asked any + questions. That makes my part so strange. I want to tell why I came out + here. I need some one who will keep my secret, and perhaps help me.... + Would you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if I could,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “You see I've got to trust you, or one of these other women. You're all + Mormons. I don't mean that's anything against you. I believe you're all + good and noble. But the fact makes—well, makes a liberty of speech + impossible. What can I do?” + </p> + <p> + Her silence probably meant that she did not know. Shefford sensed less + strain in her and more excitement. He believed he was on the right track + and did not regret his impulse. Even had he regretted it he would have + gone on, for opposed to caution and intelligence was his driving mystic + force. + </p> + <p> + Then he told her the truth about his boyhood, his ambition to be an + artist, his renunciation to his father's hope, his career as a clergyman, + his failure in religion, and the disgrace that had made him a wanderer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—I'm sorry!” she said. The faint starlight shone on her face, in + her eyes, and if he ever saw beauty and soul he saw them then. She seemed + deeply moved. She had forgotten herself. She betrayed girlhood then—all + the quick sympathy, the wonder, the sweetness of a heart innocent and + untutored. She looked at him with great, starry, questioning eyes, as if + they had just become aware of his presence, as if a man had been strange + to her. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. It's good of you to be sorry,” he said. “My instinct guided me + right. Perhaps you'll be my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be—if I can,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “But CAN you be?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I never had a friend. I... But, sir, I mustn't talk of + myself.... Oh, I'm afraid I can't help you.” + </p> + <p> + How strange the pathos of her voice! Almost he believed she was in need of + help or sympathy or love. But he could not wholly trust a judgment formed + from observation of a class different from hers. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you CAN help me. Let's see,” he said. “I don't seek to make you + talk of yourself. But—you're a human being—a girl—almost + a woman. You're not dumb. But even a nun can talk.” + </p> + <p> + “A nun? What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—a nun is a sister of mercy—a woman consecrated to God—who + has renounced the world. In some ways you Mormon women here resemble nuns. + It is sacrifice that nails you in this lonely valley.... You see—how + I talk! One word, one thought brings another, and I speak what perhaps + should be unsaid. And it's hard, because I feel I could unburden myself to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what you want,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Shefford hesitated, and became aware of the rapid pound of his heart. More + than anything he wanted to be fair to this girl. He saw that she was + warming to his influence. Her shadowy eyes were fixed upon him. The + starlight, growing brighter, shone on her golden hair and white face. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you presently,” he said. “I've trusted you. I'll trust you with + all.... But let me have my own time. This is so strange a thing, my + wanting to confide in you. It's selfish, perhaps. I have my own ax to + grind. I hope I won't wrong you. That's why I'm going to be perfectly + frank. I might wait for days to get better acquainted. But the impulse is + on me. I've been so interested in all you Mormon women. The fact—the + meaning of this hidden village is so—so terrible to me. But that's + none of my business. I have spent my afternoons and evenings with these + women at the different cottages. You do not mingle with them. They are + lonely, but have not such loneliness as yours. I have passed here every + night. No light—no sound. I can't help thinking. Don't censure me or + be afraid or draw within yourself just because I must think. I may be all + wrong. But I'm curious. I wonder about you. Who are you? Mary—Mary + what? Maybe I really don't want to know. I came with selfish motive and + now I'd like to—to—what shall I say? Make your life a little + less lonely for the while I'm here. That's all. It needn't offend. And if + you accept it, how much easier I can tell you my secret. You are a Mormon + and I—well, I am only a wanderer in these wilds. But—we might + help each other.... Have I made a mistake?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no,” she cried, almost wildly. + </p> + <p> + “We can be friends then. You will trust me, help me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if I dare.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you may dare what the other women would?” + </p> + <p> + She was silent. + </p> + <p> + And the wistfulness of her silence touched him. He felt contrition. He did + not stop to analyze his own emotions, but he had an inkling that once this + strange situation was ended he would have food for reflection. What struck + him most now was the girl's blanched face, the strong, nervous clasp of + her hands, the visible tumult of her bosom. Excitement alone could not be + accountable for this. He had not divined the cause for such agitation. He + was puzzled, troubled, and drawn irresistibly. He had not said what he had + planned to say. The moment had given birth to his speech, and it had + flowed. What was guiding him? + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” he said, earnestly, “tell me—have you mother, father, + sister, brother? Something prompts me to ask that.” + </p> + <p> + “All dead—gone—years ago,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “How old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Eighteen, I think. I'm not sure.” + </p> + <p> + “You ARE lonely.” + </p> + <p> + His words were gentle and divining. + </p> + <p> + “O God!” she cried. “Lonely!” + </p> + <p> + Then as a man in a dream he beheld her weeping. There was in her the + unconsciousness of a child and the passion of a woman. He gazed out into + the dark shadows and up at the white stars, and then at the bowed head + with its mass of glinting hair. But her agitation was no longer strange to + him. A few gentle and kind words had proved her undoing. He knew then that + whatever her life was, no kindness or sympathy entered it. Presently she + recovered, and sat as before, only whiter of face it seemed, and with + something tragic in her dark eyes. She was growing cold and still again, + aloof, more like those other Mormon women. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he said. “I'm not sorry I spoke. I felt your trouble, + whatever it is.... Do not retreat into your cold shell, I beg of you.... + Let me trust you with my secret.” + </p> + <p> + He saw her shake out of the cold apathy. She wavered. He felt an + inexplicable sweetness in the power his voice seemed to have upon her. She + bowed her head in acquiescence. And Shefford began his story. Did she grow + still, like stone, or was that only his vivid imagination? He told her of + Venters and Bess—of Lassiter and Jane—of little Fay Larkin—of + the romance, and then the tragedy of Surprise Valley. + </p> + <p> + “So, when my Church disowned me,” he concluded, “I conceived the idea of + wandering into the wilds of Utah to save Fay Larkin from that canyon + prison. It grew to be the best and strongest desire of my life. I think if + I could save her that it would save me. I never loved any girl. I can't + say that I love Fay Larkin. How could I when I've never seen her—when + she's only a dream girl? But I believe if she were to become a reality—a + flesh-and-blood girl—that I would love her.” + </p> + <p> + That was more than Shefford had ever confessed to any one, and it stirred + him to his depths. Mary bent her head on her hands in strange, stonelike + rigidity. + </p> + <p> + “So here I am in the canyon country,” he continued. “Withers tells me it + is a country of rainbows, both in the evanescent air and in the changeless + stone. Always as a boy there had been for me some haunting promise, some + treasure at the foot of the rainbow. I shall expect the curve of a rainbow + to lead me down into Surprise Valley. A dreamer, you will call me. But I + have had strange dreams come true.... Mary, do you think THIS dream will + come true?” + </p> + <p> + She was silent so long that he repeated his question. + </p> + <p> + “Only—in heaven,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + He took her reply strangely and a chill crept over him. + </p> + <p> + “You think my plan to seek to strive, to find—you think that idle, + vain?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it noble.... Thank God I've met a man like you!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't praise me!” he exclaimed, hastily. “Only help me.... Mary, will you + answer a few little questions, if I swear by my honor I'll never reveal + what you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try.” + </p> + <p> + He moistened his lips. Why did she seem so strange, so far away? The + hovering shadows made him nervous. Always he had been afraid of the dark. + His mood now admitted of unreal fancies. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever heard of Fay Larkin?” he asked, very low. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there only one Fay Larkin?” + </p> + <p> + “Only one.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you—ever see her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” came the faint reply. + </p> + <p> + He was grateful. How she might be breaking faith with creed or duty! He + had not dared to hope so much. All his inner being trembled at the portent + of his next query. He had not dreamed it would be so hard to put, or would + affect him so powerfully. A warmth, a glow, a happiness pervaded his + spirit; and the chill, the gloom were as if they had never been. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Fay Larkin now?” he asked, huskily. + </p> + <p> + He bent over her, touched her, leaned close to catch her whisper. + </p> + <p> + “She is—dead!” + </p> + <p> + Slowly Shefford rose, with a sickening shock, and then in bitter pain he + strode away into the starlight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. SAGO-LILIES + </h2> + <p> + The Indian returned to camp that night, and early the next day, which was + Sunday, Withers rode in, accompanied by a stout, gray-bearded personage + wearing a long black coat. + </p> + <p> + “Bishop Kane, this is my new man, John Shefford,” said the trader. + </p> + <p> + Shefford acknowledged the introduction with the respectful courtesy + evidently in order, and found himself being studied intently by clear blue + eyes. The bishop appeared old, dry, and absorbed in thought; he spoke + quaintly, using in every speech some Biblical word or phrase; and he had + an air of authority. He asked Shefford to hear him preach at the morning + service, and then he went off into the village. + </p> + <p> + “Guess he liked your looks,” remarked Withers. + </p> + <p> + “He certainly sized me up,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what could you expect? Sure I never heard of a deal like this—a + handsome young fellow left alone with a lot of pretty Mormon women! You'll + understand when you learn to know Mormons. Bishop Kane's a square old + chap. Crazy on religion, maybe, but otherwise he's a good fellow. I made + the best stand I could for you. The Mormons over at Stonebridge were huffy + because I hadn't consulted them before fetching you over here. If I had, + of course you'd never have gotten here. It was Joe Lake who made it all + right with them. Joe's well thought of, and he certainly stood up for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I owe him something, then,” replied Shefford. “Hope my obligations don't + grow beyond me. Did you leave Joe at Stonebridge?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He wanted to stay, and I had work there that'll keep him awhile. + Shefford, we got news of Shadd—bad news. The half-breed's cutting up + rough. His gang shot up some Piutes over here across the line. Then he got + run out of Durango a few weeks ago for murder. A posse of cowboys trailed + him. But he slipped them. He's a fox. You know he was trailing us here. He + left the trail, Nas Ta Bega said. I learned at Stonebridge that Shadd is + well disposed toward Mormons. It takes the Mormons to handle Indians. + Shadd knows of this village and that's why he shunted off our trail. But + he might hang down in the pass and wait for us. I think I'd better go back + to Kayenta alone, across country. You stay here till Joe and the Indian + think it safe to leave. You'll be going up on the slope of Navajo to load + a pack-train, and from there it may be well to go down West canyon to Red + Lake, and home over the divide, the way you came. Joe'll decide what's + best. And you might as well buckle on a gun and get used to it. Sooner or + later you'll have to shoot your way through.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford did not respond with his usual enthusiasm, and the omission + caused the trader to scrutinize him closely. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” he queried. “There's no light in your eye to-day. You + look a little shady.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't rest well last night,” replied Shefford. “I'm depressed this + morning. But I'll cheer up directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you get along with the women?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well indeed. And I've enjoyed myself. It's a strange, beautiful + place.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like the women?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen much of the Sago Lily?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I carried her bucket one night—and saw her only once again. + I've been with the other women most of the time.” + </p> + <p> + “It's just as well you didn't run often into Mary. Joe's sick over her. I + never saw a girl with a face and form to equal hers. There's danger here + for any man, Shefford. Even for you who think you've turned your back on + the world! Any of these Mormon women may fall in love with you. They CAN'T + love their husbands. That's how I figure it. Religion holds them, not + love. And the peculiar thing is this: they're second, third, or fourth + wives, all sealed. That means their husbands are old, have picked them out + for youth and physical charms, have chosen the very opposite to their + first wives, and then have hidden them here in this lonely hole.... Did + you ever imagine so terrible a thing?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Withers, I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe that's what depressed you. Anyway, my hunch is worth taking. Be as + nice as you can, Shefford. Lord knows it would be good for these poor + women if every last one of them fell in love with you. That won't hurt + them so long as you keep your head. Savvy? Perhaps I seem rough and coarse + to a man of your class. Well, that may be. But human nature is human + nature. And in this strange and beautiful place you might love an Indian + girl, let alone the Sago Lily. That's all. I sure feel better with that + load off my conscience. Hope I don't offend.” + </p> + <p> + “No indeed. I thank you, Withers,” replied Shefford, with his hand on the + trader's shoulder. “You are right to caution me. I seem to be wild—thirsting + for adventure—chasing a gleam. In these unstable days I can't answer + for my heart. But I can for my honor. These unfortunate women are as safe + with me as—as they are with you and Joe.” + </p> + <p> + Withers uttered a blunt laugh. + </p> + <p> + “See here, son, look things square in the eye. Men of violent, lonely, + toilsome lives store up hunger for the love of woman. Love of a STRANGE + woman, if you want to put it that way. It's nature. It seems all the + beautiful young women in Utah are corralled in this valley. When I come + over here I feel natural, but I'm not happy. I'd like to make love to—to + that flower-faced girl. And I'm not ashamed to own it. I've told Molly, my + wife, and she understands. As for Joe, it's much harder for him. Joe never + has had a wife or sweetheart. I tell you he's sick, and if I'd stay here a + month I'd be sick.” + </p> + <p> + Withers had spoken with fire in his eyes, with grim humor on his lips, + with uncompromising brutal truth. What he admitted was astounding to + Shefford, but, once spoken, not at all strange. The trader was a man who + spoke his inmost thought. And what he said suddenly focused Shefford's + mental vision clear and whole upon the appalling significance of the + tragedy of those women, especially of the girl whose life was lonelier, + sadder, darker than that of the others. + </p> + <p> + “Withers, trust me,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Make the best of a bad job,” said the trader, and went off + about his tasks. + </p> + <p> + Shefford and Withers attended the morning service, which was held in the + school-house. Exclusive of the children every inhabitant of the village + was there. The women, except the few eldest, were dressed in white and + looked exceedingly well. Manifestly they had bestowed care upon this + Sabbath morning's toilet. One thing surely this dress occasion brought + out, and it was evidence that the Mormon women were not poor, whatever + their misfortunes might be. Jewelry was not wanting, nor fine lace. And + they all wore beautiful wild flowers of a kind unknown to Shefford. He + received many a bright smile. He looked for Mary, hoping to see her face + for the first time in the daylight, but she sat far forward and did not + turn. He saw her graceful white neck, the fine lines of her throat, and + her colorless cheek. He recognized her, yet in the light she seemed a + stranger. + </p> + <p> + The service began with a short prayer and was followed by the singing of a + hymn. Nowhere had Shefford heard better music or sweeter voices. How + deeply they affected him! Had any man ever fallen into a stranger + adventure than this? He had only to shut his eyes to believe it all a + creation of his fancy—the square log cabin with its red mud between + the chinks and a roof like an Indian hogan—the old bishop in his + black coat, standing solemnly, his hand beating time to the tune—the + few old women, dignified and stately—the many young women, fresh and + handsome, lifting their voices. + </p> + <p> + Shefford listened intently to the bishop's sermon. In some respects it was + the best he had ever heard. In others it was impossible for an intelligent + man to regard seriously. It was very long, lasting an hour and a half, and + the parts that were helpful to Shefford came from the experience and + wisdom of a man who had grown old in the desert. The physical things that + had molded characters of iron, the obstacles that only strong, patient men + could have overcome, the making of homes in a wilderness, showed the + greatness of this alien band of Mormons. Shefford conceded greatness to + them. But the strange religion—the narrowing down of the world to + the soil of Utah, the intimations of prophets on earth who had direct + converse with God, the austere self-conscious omnipotence of this old + bishop—these were matters that Shefford felt he must understand + better, and see more favorably, if he were not to consider them + impossible. + </p> + <p> + Immediately after the service, forgetting that his intention had been to + get the long-waited-for look at Mary in the light of the sun, Shefford + hurried back to camp and to a secluded spot among the cedars. Strikingly + it had come to him that the fault he had found in Gentile religion he now + found in the Mormon religion. An old question returned to haunt him—were + all religions the same in blindness? As far as he could see, religion + existed to uphold the founders of a Church, a creed. The Church of his own + kind was a place where narrow men and women went to think of their own + salvation. They did not go there to think of others. And now Shefford's + keen mind saw something of Mormonism and found it wanting. Bishop Kane was + a sincere, good, mistaken man. He believed what he preached, but that + would not stand logic. He taught blindness and mostly it appeared to be + directed at the women. Was there no religion divorced from power, no + religion as good for one man as another, no religion in the spirit of + brotherly love? Nas Ta Bega's “Bi Nai” (brother)—that was love, if + not religion, and perhaps the one and the other were the same. Shefford + kept in mind an intention to ask Nas Ta Bega what he thought of the + Mormons. + </p> + <p> + Later, when opportunity afforded, he did speak to the Indian. Nas Ta Bega + threw away his cigarette and made an impressive gesture that conveyed as + much sorrow as scorn. + </p> + <p> + “The first Mormon said God spoke to him and told him to go to a certain + place and dig. He went there and found the Book of Mormon. It said follow + me, marry many wives, go into the desert and multiply, send your sons out + into the world and bring us young women, many young women. And when the + first Mormon became strong with many followers he said again: Give to me + part of your labor—of your cattle and sheep—of your silver—that + I may build me great cathedrals for you to worship in. And I will commune + with God and make it right and good that you have more wives. That is + Mormonism.” + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, you mean the Mormons are a great and good people blindly + following a leader?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And the leader builds for himself—not for them.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not religion. He has no God but himself.” + </p> + <p> + “They have no God. They are blind like the Mokis who have the creeping + growths on their eyes. They have no God they can see and hear and feel, + who is with them day and night.” + </p> + <p> + It was late in the afternoon when Bishop Kane rode through the camp and + halted on his way to speak to Shefford. He was kind and fatherly. “Young + man, are you open to faith?” he questioned gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I think I am,” replied Shefford, thankful he could answer readily. + </p> + <p> + “Then come into the fold. You are a lost sheep. 'Away on the desert I + heard its cry.'... God bless you. Visit me when you ride to Stonebridge.” + </p> + <p> + He flicked his horse with a cedar branch and trotted away beside the + trader, and presently the green-choked neck of the valley hid them from + view. Shefford could not have said that he was glad to be left behind, and + yet neither was he sorry. + </p> + <p> + That Sabbath evening as he sat quietly with Nas Ta Bega, watching the + sunset gilding the peaks, he was visited by three of the young Mormon + women—Ruth, Joan, and Hester. They deliberately sought him and + merrily led him off to the village and to the evening service of singing + and prayer. Afterward he was surrounded and made much of. He had been + popular before, but this was different. When he thoughtfully wended his + way campward under the quiet stars he realized that the coming of Bishop + Kane had made a subtle change in the women. That change was at first hard + to define, but from every point by which he approached it he came to the + same conclusion—the bishop had not objected to his presence in the + village. The women became natural, free, and unrestrained. A dozen or + twenty young and attractive women thrown much into companionship with one + man. He might become a Mormon. The idea made him laugh. But upon + reflection it was not funny; it sobered him. What a situation! He felt + instinctively that he ought to fly from this hidden valley. But he could + not have done it, even had he not been in the trader's employ. The thing + was provokingly seductive. It was like an Arabian Nights' tale. What could + these strange, fatally bound women do? Would any one of them become + involved in sweet toils such as were possible to him? He was no fool. + Already eyes had flashed and lips had smiled. + </p> + <p> + A thousand like thoughts whirled through his mind. And when he had calmed + down somewhat two things were not lost upon him—an intricate and + fascinating situation, with no end to its possibilities, threatened and + attracted him—and the certainty that, whatever change the bishop had + inaugurated, it had made these poor women happier. The latter fact weighed + more with Shefford than fears for himself. His word was given to Withers. + He would have felt just the same without having bound himself. Still, in + the light of the trader's blunt philosophy, and of his own assurance that + he was no fool, Shefford felt it incumbent upon him to accept a belief + that there were situations no man could resist without an anchor. The + ingenuity of man could not have devised a stranger, a more enticing, a + more overpoweringly fatal situation. Fatal in that it could not be left + untried! Shefford gave in and clicked his teeth as he let himself go. And + suddenly he thought of her whom these bitter women called the Sago Lily. + </p> + <p> + The regret that had been his returned with thought of her. The saddest + disillusion of his life, the keenest disappointment, the strangest pain, + would always be associated with her. He had meant to see her face once, + clear in the sunlight, so that he could always remember it, and then never + go near her again. And now it came to him that if he did see much of her + these other women would find him like the stone wall in the valley. Folly! + Perhaps it was, but she would be safe, maybe happier. When he decided, it + was certain that he trembled. + </p> + <p> + Then he buried the memory of Fay Larkin. + </p> + <p> + Next day Shefford threw himself with all the boy left in him into the work + and play of the village. He helped the women and made games for the + children. And he talked or listened. In the early evening he called on + Ruth, chatted awhile, and went on to see Joan, and from her to another. + When the valley became shrouded in darkness he went unseen down the path + to Mary's lonely home. + </p> + <p> + She was there, a white shadow against the black. + </p> + <p> + When she replied to his greeting her voice seemed full, broken, eager to + express something that would not come. She was happier to see him than she + should have been, Shefford thought. He talked, swiftly, eloquently, about + whatever he believed would interest her. He stayed long, and finally left, + not having seen her face except in pale starlight and shadow; and the + strong clasp of her hand remained with him as he went away under the + pinyons. + </p> + <p> + Days passed swiftly. Joe Lake did not return. The Indian rode in and out + of camp, watered and guarded the pack-burros and the mustangs. Shefford + grew strong and active. He made gardens for the women; he cut cords of + fire-wood; he dammed the brook and made an irrigation ditch; he learned to + love these fatherless children, and they loved him. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoons there was leisure for him and for the women. He had no + favorites, and let the occasion decide what he should do and with whom he + should be. They had little parties at the cottages and picnics under the + cedars. He rode up and down the valley with Ruth, who could ride a horse + as no other girl he had ever seen. He climbed with Hester. He walked with + Joan. Mostly he contrived to include several at once in the little + excursions, though it was not rare for him to be out alone with one. + </p> + <p> + It was not a game he was playing. More and more, as he learned to know + these young women, he liked them better, he pitied them, he was good for + them. It shamed him, hurt him, somehow, to see how they tried to forget + something when they were with him. Not improbably a little of it was + coquetry, as natural as a laugh to any pretty woman. But that was not what + hurt him. It was to see Ruth or Rebecca, as the case might be, full of + life and fun, thoroughly enjoying some jest or play, all of a sudden be + strangely recalled from the wholesome pleasure of a girl to become a deep + and somber woman. The crimes in the name of religion! How he thought of + the blood and the ruin laid at the door of religion! He wondered if that + were so with Nas Ta Bega's religion, and he meant to find out some day. + The women he liked best he imagined the least religious, and they made + less effort to attract him. + </p> + <p> + Every night in the dark he went to Mary's home and sat with her on the + porch. He never went inside. For all he knew, his visits were unknown to + her neighbors. Still, it did not matter to him if they found out. To her + he could talk as he had never talked to any one. She liberated all his + thought and fancy. He filled her mind. + </p> + <p> + As there had been a change in the other women, so was there in Mary; + however, it had no relation to the bishop's visit. The time came when + Shefford could not but see that she lived and dragged through the long day + for the sake of those few hours in the shadow of the stars with him. She + seldom spoke. She listened. Wonderful to him—sometimes she laughed—and + it seemed the sound was a ghost of childhood pleasure. When he stopped to + consider that she might fall in love with him he drove the thought from + him. When he realized that his folly had become sweet and that the + sweetness imperiously drew him, he likewise cast off that thought. The + present was enough. And if he had any treasures of mind and heart he gave + them to her. + </p> + <p> + She never asked him to stay, but she showed that she wanted him to. That + made it hard to go. Still, he never stayed late. The moment of parting was + like a break. Her good-by was sweet, low music; it lingered on his ear; it + bade him come to-morrow night; and it sent him away into the valley to + walk under the stars, a man fighting against himself. + </p> + <p> + One night at parting, as he tried to see her face in the wan glow of a + clouded moon, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I've been trying to find a sago-lily.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never seen one?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No.” He meant to say something with a double meaning, in reference to her + face and the name of the flower, but her unconsciousness made him hold his + tongue. She was wholly unlike the other women. + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you where the lilies grow,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow. Early in the afternoon I'll come to the spring. Then I'll take + you.” + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Next morning Joe Lake returned and imparted news that was perturbing to + Shefford. Reports of Shadd had come in to Stonebridge from different + Indian villages; Joe was not inclined to linger long at the camp, and + favored taking the trail with the pack-train. + </p> + <p> + Shefford discovered that he did not want to leave the valley, and the + knowledge made him reflective. That morning he did not go into the + village, and stayed in camp alone. A depression weighed upon him. It was + dispelled, however, early in the afternoon by the sight of a slender + figure in white swiftly coming down the path to the spring. He had an + appointment with Mary to go to see the sago lilies; everything else + slipped his mind. + </p> + <p> + Mary wore the long black hood that effectually concealed her face. It made + of her a woman, a Mormon woman, and strangely belied the lithe form and + the braid of gold hair. + </p> + <p> + “Good day,” she said, putting down her bucket. “Do you still want to go—to + see the lilies?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Shefford, with a short laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Can you climb?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go where you go.” + </p> + <p> + Then she set off under the cedars and Shefford stalked at her side. He was + aware that Nas Ta Bega watched them walk away. This day, so far, at least, + Shefford did not feel talkative; and Mary had always been one who mostly + listened. They came at length to a place where the wall rose in low, + smooth swells, not steep, but certainly at an angle Shefford would not of + his own accord have attempted to scale. + </p> + <p> + Light, quick, and sure as a mountain-sheep Mary went up the first swell to + an offset above. Shefford, in amaze and admiration, watched the little + moccasins as they flashed and held on to the smooth rock. + </p> + <p> + When he essayed to follow her he slipped and came to grief. A second + attempt resulted in like failure. Then he backed away from the wall, to + run forward fast and up the slope, only to slip, halfway up, and fall + again. + </p> + <p> + He made light of the incident, but she was solicitous. When he assured her + he was unhurt she said he had agreed to go where she went. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm not a—a bird,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “Take off your boots. Then you can climb. When we get over the wall it'll + be easy,” she said. + </p> + <p> + In his stocking-feet he had no great difficulty walking up the first bulge + of the walls. And from there she led him up the strange waves of wind-worn + rock. He could not attend to anything save the red, polished rock under + him, and so saw little. The ascent was longer than he would have imagined, + and steep enough to make him pant, but at last a huge round summit was + reached. + </p> + <p> + From here he saw down into the valley where the village lay. But for the + lazy columns of blue smoke curling up from the pinyons the place would + have seemed uninhabited. The wall on the other side was about level with + the one upon which he stood. Beyond rose other walls and cliffs, up and up + to the great towering peaks between which the green-and-black mountain + loomed. Facing the other way, Shefford had only a restricted view. There + were low crags and smooth stone ridges, between which were aisles green + with cedar and pinon. Shefford's companion headed toward one of these, and + when he had followed her a few steps he could no longer see down into the + valley. The Mormon village where she lived was as if it were lost, and + when it vanished Shefford felt a difference. Scarcely had the thought + passed when Mary removed the dark hood. Her small head glistened like gold + in the sunlight. + </p> + <p> + Shefford caught up with her and walked at her side, but could not bring + himself at once deliberately to look at her. They entered a narrow, + low-walled lane where cedars and pinyons grew thickly, their fragrance + heavy in the warm air, and flowers began to show in the grassy patches. + </p> + <p> + “This is Indian paint-brush,” she said, pointing to little, low, scarlet + flowers. A gray sage-bush with beautiful purple blossoms she called purple + sage; another bush with yellow flowers she named buck-brush, and there + were vermilion cacti and low, flat mounds of lavender daisies which she + said had no name. A whole mossy bank was covered with lace like green + leaves and tiny blossoms the color of violets, which she called loco. + </p> + <p> + “Loco? Is this what makes the horses go crazy when they eat it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is, indeed,” she said, laughing. + </p> + <p> + When she laughed it was impossible not to look at her. She walked a little + in advance. Her white cheek and temple seemed framed in the gold of her + hair. How white her skin! But it was like pearl, faintly veined and + flushed. The profile, clear-cut and pure, appeared cold, almost stern. He + knew now that she was singularly beautiful, though he had yet to see her + full face. + </p> + <p> + They walked on. Quite suddenly the lane opened out between two rounded + bluffs, and Shefford looked down upon a grander and more awe-inspiring + scene than ever he had viewed in his dreams. + </p> + <p> + What appeared to be a green mountainside sloped endlessly down to a plain, + and that rolled and billowed away to a boundless region of strangely + carved rock. The greatness of the scene could not be grasped in a glance. + The slope was long; the plain not as level as it seemed to be on first + sight; here and there round, red rocks, isolated and strange, like lonely + castles, rose out of the green. Beyond the green all the earth seemed + naked, showing smooth, glistening bones. It was a formidable wall of rock + that flung itself up in the distance, carved into a thousand canyon and + walls and domes and peaks, and there was not a straight nor a broken nor a + jagged line in all that wildness. The color low down was red, dark blue, + and purple in the clefts, yellow upon the heights, and in the distance + rainbow-hued. A land of curves and color! + </p> + <p> + Shefford uttered an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “That's Utah,” said Mary. “I come often to sit here. You see that winding + blue line. There.... That's San Juan canyon. And the other dark line, + that's Escalante canyon. They wind down into this great purple chasm—'way + over here to the left—and that's the Grand canyon. They say not even + the Indians have been in there.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford had nothing to say. The moment was one of subtle and vital + assimilation. Such places as this to be unknown to men! What strength, + what wonder, what help, what glory, just to sit there an hour, slowly and + appallingly to realize! Something came to Shefford from the distance, out + of the purple canyon and from those dim, wind-worn peaks. He resolved to + come here to this promontory again and again, alone and in humble spirit, + and learn to know why he had been silenced, why peace pervaded his soul. + </p> + <p> + It was with this emotion upon him that he turned to find his companion + watching him. Then for the first time he saw her face fully, and was + thrilled that chance had reserved the privilege for this moment. It was a + girl's face he saw, flower-like, lovely and pure as a Madonna's, and + strangely, tragically sad. The eyes were large, dark gray, the color of + the sage. They were as clear as the air which made distant things close, + and yet they seemed full of shadows, like a ruffled pool under midnight + stars. They disturbed him. Her mouth had the sweet curves and redness of + youth, but it showed bitterness, pain, and repression. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the sago-lilies?” he asked, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Farther down. It's too cold up here for them. Come,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He followed her down a winding trail—down and down till the green + plain rose to blot out the scrawled wall of rock, down into a verdant + canyon where a brook made swift music over stones, where the air was + sultry and hot, laden with the fragrant breath of flower and leaf. This + was a canyon of summer, and it bloomed. + </p> + <p> + The girl bent and plucked something from the grass. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a white lily,” she said. “There are three colors. The yellow and + pink ones are deeper down in the canyon.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford took the flower and regarded it with great interest. He had never + seen such an exquisite thing. It had three large petals, curving cuplike, + of a whiteness purer than new-fallen snow, and a heart of rich, warm gold. + Its fragrance was so faint as to be almost indistinguishable, yet of a + haunting, unforgettable sweetness. And even while he looked at it the + petals drooped and their whiteness shaded and the gold paled. In a moment + the flower was wilted. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like to pluck the lilies,” said Mary. “They die so swiftly.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford saw the white flowers everywhere in the open, sunny places along + the brook. They swayed with stately grace in the slow, warm wind. They + seemed like three-pointed stars shining out of the green. He bent over one + with a particularly lofty stem, and after a close survey of it he rose to + look at her face. His action was plainly one of comparison. She laughed + and said it was foolish for the women to call her the Sago Lily. She had + no coquetry; she spoke as she would have spoken of the stones at her feet; + she did not know that she was beautiful. Shefford imagined there was some + resemblance in her to the lily—the same whiteness, the same rich + gold, and, more striking than either, a strange, rare quality of beauty, + of life, intangible as something fleeting, the spirit that had swiftly + faded from the plucked flower. Where had the girl been born—what had + her life been? Shefford was intensely curious about her. She seemed as + different from any other women he had known as this rare canyon lily was + different from the tame flowers at home. + </p> + <p> + On the return up the slope she outstripped him. She climbed lightly and + tirelessly. When he reached her upon the promontory there was a stain of + red in her cheeks and her expression had changed. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go back up over the rocks,” she said. “I've not climbed for—for + so long.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go where you go,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Then she was off, and he followed. She took to the curves of the bare + rocks and climbed. He sensed a spirit released in her. It was so strange, + so keen, so wonderful to be with her, and when he did catch her he feared + to speak lest he break this mood. Her eyes grew dark and daring, and often + she stopped to look away across the wavy sea of stones to something beyond + the great walls. When they got high the wind blew her hair loose and it + flew out, a golden stream, with the sun bright upon it. He saw that she + changed her direction, which had been in line with the two peaks, and now + she climbed toward the heights. They came to a more difficult ascent, + where the stone still held to the smooth curves, yet was marked by steep + bulges and slants and crevices. Here she became a wild thing. She ran, she + leaped, she would have left him far behind had he not called. Then she + appeared to remember him and waited. + </p> + <p> + Her face had now lost its whiteness; it was flushed, rosy, warm. + </p> + <p> + “Where—did you—ever learn—to run over rocks—this + way?” he panted. + </p> + <p> + “All my life I've climbed,” she said. “Ah! it's so good to be up on the + walls again—to feel the wind—to see!” + </p> + <p> + Thereafter he kept close to her, no matter what the effort. He would not + miss a moment of her, if he could help it. She was wonderful. He imagined + she must be like an Indian girl, or a savage who loved the lofty places + and the silence. When she leaped she uttered a strange, low, sweet cry of + wildness and exultation. Shefford guessed she was a girl freed from her + prison, forgetting herself, living again youthful hours. Still she did not + forget him. She waited for him at the bad places, lent him a strong hand, + and sometimes let it stay long in his clasp. Tireless and agile, + sure-footed as a goat, fleet and wild she leaped and climbed and ran until + Shefford marveled at her. This adventure was indeed fulfilment of a dream. + Perhaps she might lead him to the treasure at the foot of the rainbow. But + that thought, sad with memory daring forth from its grave, was irrevocably + linked with a girl who was dead. He could not remember her, in the + presence of this wonderful creature who was as strange as she was + beautiful. When Shefford reached for the brown hand stretched forth to + help him in a leap, when he felt its strong clasp, the youth and vitality + and life of it, he had the fear of a man who was running towards a + precipice and who could not draw back. This was a climb, a lark, a wild + race to the Mormon girl, bound now in the village, and by the very freedom + of it she betrayed her bonds. To Shefford it was also a wild race, but + toward one sure goal he dared not name. + </p> + <p> + They went on, and at length, hand in hand, even where no steep step or + wide fissure gave reason for the clasp. But she seemed unconscious. They + were nearing the last height, a bare eminence, when she broke from him and + ran up the smooth stone. When he surmounted it she was standing on the + very summit, her arms wide, her full breast heaving, her slender body + straight as an Indian's, her hair flying in the wind and blazing in the + sun. She seemed to embrace the west, to reach for something afar, to offer + herself to the wind and distance. Her face was scarlet from the exertion + of the climb, and her broad brow was moist. Her eyes had the piercing + light of an eagle's, though now they were dark. Shefford instinctively + grasped the essence of this strange spirit, primitive and wild. She was + not the woman who had met him at the spring. She had dropped some side of + her with that Mormon hood, and now she stood totally strange. + </p> + <p> + She belonged up here, he divined. She was a part of that wildness. She + must have been born and brought up in loneliness, where the wind blew and + the peaks loomed and silence held dominion. The sinking sun touched the + rim of the distant wall, and as if in parting regret shone with renewed + golden fire. And the girl was crowned as with a glory. + </p> + <p> + Shefford loved her then. Realizing it, he thought he might have loved her + before, but that did not matter when he was certain of it now. He trembled + a little, fearfully, though without regret. Everything pertaining to his + desert experience had been strange—this the strangest of all. + </p> + <p> + The sun sank swiftly, and instantly there was a change in the golden + light. Quickly it died out. The girl changed as swiftly. She seemed to + remember herself, and sat down as if suddenly weary. Shefford went closer + and seated himself beside her. + </p> + <p> + “The sun has set. We must go,” she said. But she made no movement. + </p> + <p> + “Whenever you are ready,” replied he. + </p> + <p> + Just as the blaze had died out of her eyes, so the flush faded out of her + face. The whiteness stole back, and with it the sadness. He had to bite + his tongue to keep from telling her what he felt, to keep from pouring out + a thousand questions. But the privilege of having seen her, of having been + with her when she had forgotten herself—that he believed was enough. + It had been wonderful; it had made him love her But it need not add to the + tragedy of her life, whatever that was. He tried to eliminate himself. And + he watched her. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were fixed upon the gold-rimmed ramparts of the distant wall in + the west. Plain it was how she loved that wild upland. And there seemed to + be some haunting memory of the past in her gaze—some happy part of + life, agonizing to think of now. + </p> + <p> + “We must go,” she said, and rose. + </p> + <p> + Shefford rose to accompany her. She looked at him, and her haunting eyes + seemed to want him to know that he had helped her to forget the present, + to remember girlhood, and that somehow she would always associate a + wonderful happy afternoon with him. He divined that her silence then was a + Mormon seal on lips. + </p> + <p> + “Mary, this has been the happiest, the best, the most revealing day of my + life,” he said, simply. + </p> + <p> + Swiftly, as if startled, she turned and faced down the slope. At the top + of the wall above the village she put on the dark hood, and with it that + somber something which was Mormon. + </p> + <p> + Twilight had descended into the valley, and shadows were so thick Shefford + had difficulty in finding Mary's bucket. He filled it at the spring, and + made offer to carry it home for her, which she declined. + </p> + <p> + “You'll come to-night—later?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, hurriedly promising. Then he watched her white form + slowly glide down the path to disappear in the shadows. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega and Joe were busy at the camp-fire. Shefford joined them. This + night he was uncommunicative. Joe peered curiously at him in the flare of + the blaze. Later, after the meal, when Shefford appeared restless and + strode to and fro, Joe spoke up gruffly: + </p> + <p> + “Better hang round camp to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford heard, but did not heed. Nevertheless, the purport of the remark, + which was either jealousy or admonition, haunted him with the possibility + of its meaning. + </p> + <p> + He walked away from the camp-fire, under the dark pinyons, out into the + starry open; and every step was hard to take, unless it pointed toward the + home of the girl whose beauty and sadness and mystery had bewitched him. + After what seemed hours he took the well-known path toward her cabin, and + then every step seemed lighter. He divined he was rushing to some fate—he + knew not what. + </p> + <p> + The porch was in shadow. He peered in vain for the white form against the + dark background. In the silence he seemed to hear his heart-beats thick + and muffled. + </p> + <p> + Some distance down the path he heard the sound of hoofs. Withdrawing into + the gloom of a cedar, he watched. Soon he made out moving horses with + riders. They filed past him to the number of half a score. Like a flash of + fire the truth burned him. Mormons come for one of those mysterious night + visits to sealed wives! + </p> + <p> + Shefford stalked far down the valley, into the lonely silence and the + night shadows under the walls. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. THE HOGAN OF NAS TA BEGA + </h2> + <p> + The home of Nas Ta Bega lay far up the cedared slope, with the craggy + yellow cliffs and the black canyon and the pine-fringed top of Navajo + Mountain behind, and to the fore the vast, rolling descent of cedar groves + and sage flats and sandy washes. No dim, dark range made bold outline + along the horizon; the stretch of gray and purple and green extended to + the blue line of sky. + </p> + <p> + Down the length of one sage level Shefford saw a long lane where the brush + and the grass had been beaten flat. This, the Navajo said, was a track + where the young braves had raced their mustangs and had striven for + supremacy before the eyes of maidens and the old people of the tribe. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, did you ever race here?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “I am a chief by birth. But I was stolen from my home, and now I cannot + ride well enough to race the braves of my tribe,” the Indian replied, + bitterly. + </p> + <p> + In another place Joe Lake halted his horse and called Shefford's attention + to a big yellow rock lying along the trail. And then he spoke in Navajo to + the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “I've heard of this stone—Isende Aha,” said Joe, after Nas Ta Bega + had spoken. “Get down, and let's see.” Shefford dismounted, but the Indian + kept his seat in the saddle. + </p> + <p> + Joe placed a big hand on the stone and tried to move it. According to + Shefford's eye measurement the stone was nearly oval, perhaps three feet + high, by a little over two in width. Joe threw off his sombrero, took a + deep breath, and, bending over, clasped the stone in his arms. He was an + exceedingly heavy and powerful man, and it was plain to Shefford that he + meant to lift the stone if that were possible. Joe's broad shoulders + strained, flattened; his arms bulged, his joints cracked, his neck corded, + and his face turned black. By gigantic effort he lifted the stone and + moved it about six inches. Then as he released his hold he fell, and when + he sat up his face was wet with sweat. + </p> + <p> + “Try it,” he said to Shefford, with his lazy smile. “See if you can heave + it.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford was strong, and there had been a time when he took pride in his + strength. Something in Joe's supreme effort and in the gloom of the + Indian's eyes made Shefford curious about this stone. He bent over and + grasped it as Joe had done. He braced himself and lifted with all his + power, until a red blur obscured his sight and shooting stars seemed to + explode in his head. But he could not even stir the stone. + </p> + <p> + “Shefford, maybe you'll be able to heft it some day,” observed Joe. Then + he pointed to the stone and addressed Nas Ta Bega. + </p> + <p> + The Indian shook his head and spoke for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “This is the Isende Aha of the Navajos,” explained Joe. “The young braves + are always trying to carry this stone. As soon as one of them can carry it + he is a man. He who carries it farthest is the biggest man. And just so + soon as any Indian can no longer lift it he is old. Nas Ta Bega says the + stone has been carried two miles in his lifetime. His own father carried + it the length of six steps.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! It's plain to me that I am not a man,” said Shefford, “or else I am + old.” + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake drawled his lazy laugh and, mounting, rode up the trail. But + Shefford lingered beside the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai,” said Nas Ta Bega, “I am a chief of my tribe, but I have never + been a man. I never lifted that stone. See what the pale-face education + has done for the Indian!” + </p> + <p> + The Navajo's bitterness made Shefford thoughtful. Could greater injury be + done to man than this—to rob him of his heritage of strength? + </p> + <p> + Joe drove the bobbing pack-train of burros into the cedars where the smoke + of the hogans curled upward, and soon the whistling of mustangs, the + barking of dogs, the bleating of sheep, told of his reception. And + presently Shefford was in the midst of an animated scene. Great, woolly, + fierce dogs, like wolves, ran out to meet the visitors. Sheep and goats + were everywhere, and little lambs scarcely able to walk, with others + frisky and frolicsome. There were pure-white lambs, and some that appeared + to be painted, and some so beautiful with their fleecy white all except + black faces or ears or tails or feet. They ran right under Nack-yal's legs + and bumped against Shefford, and kept bleating their thin-piped welcome. + Under the cedars surrounding the several hogans were mustangs that took + Shefford's eye. He saw an iron-gray with white mane and tail sweeping to + the ground; and a fiery black, wilder than any other beast he had ever + seen; and a pinto as wonderfully painted as the little lambs; and, most + striking of all, a pure, cream-colored mustang with grace and fine lines + and beautiful mane and tail, and, strange to see, eyes as blue as azure. + This albino mustang came right up to Shefford, an action in singular + contrast with that of the others, and showed a tame and friendly spirit + toward him and Nack-yal. Indeed, Shefford had reason to feel ashamed of + Nack-yal's temper or jealousy. + </p> + <p> + The first Indians to put in an appearance were a flock of children, half + naked, with tangled manes of raven-black hair and skin like gold bronze. + They appeared bold and shy by turns. Then a little, sinewy man, old and + beaten and gray, came out of the principal hogan. He wore a blanket round + his bent shoulders. His name was Hosteen Doetin, and it meant gentle man. + His fine, old, wrinkled face lighted with a smile of kindly interest. His + squaw followed him, and she was as venerable as he. Shefford caught a + glimpse of the shy, dark Glen Naspa, Nas Ta Bega's sister, but she did not + come out. Other Indians appeared, coming from adjacent hogans. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega turned the mustangs loose among those Shefford had noticed, + and presently there rose a snorting, whistling, kicking, plunging melee. A + cloud of dust hid them, and then a thudding of swift hoofs told of a run + through the cedars. Joe Lake began picking over stacks of goat-skins and + bags of wool that were piled against the hogan. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon we'll have one grand job packing out this load,” he growled. “It's + not so heavy, but awkward to pack.” + </p> + <p> + It developed, presently, from talk with the old Navajo, that this pile was + only a half of the load to be packed to Kayenta, and the other half was + round the corner of the mountain in the camp of Piutes. Hosteen Doetin + said he would send to the camp and have the Piutes bring their share over. + The suggestion suited Joe, who wanted to save his burros as much as + possible. Accordingly, a messenger was despatched to the Piute camp. And + Shefford, with time on his hands and poignant memory to combat, decided to + recall his keen interest in the Navajo, and learn, if possible, what the + Indian's life was like. What would a day of his natural life be? + </p> + <p> + In the gray of dawn, when the hush of the desert night still lay deep over + the land, the Navajo stirred in his blanket and began to chant to the + morning light. It began very soft and low, a strange, broken murmur, like + the music of a brook, and as it swelled that weird and mournful tone was + slowly lost in one of hope and joy. The Indian's soul was coming out of + night, blackness, the sleep that resembled death, into the day, the light + that was life. + </p> + <p> + Then he stood in the door of his hogan, his blanket around him, and faced + the east. + </p> + <p> + Night was lifting out of the clefts and ravines; the rolling cedar ridges + and the sage flats were softly gray, with thin veils like smoke + mysteriously rising and vanishing; the colorless rocks were changing. A + long, horizon-wide gleam of light, rosiest in the center, lay low down in + the east and momentarily brightened. One by one the stars in the deep-blue + sky paled and went out and the blue dome changed and lightened. Night had + vanished on invisible wings and silence broke to the music of a + mockingbird. The rose in the east deepened; a wisp of cloud turned gold; + dim distant mountains showed dark against the red; and low down in a notch + a rim of fire appeared. Over the soft ridges and valleys crept a wondrous + transfiguration. It was as if every blade of grass, every leaf of sage, + every twig of cedar, the flowers, the trees, the rocks came to life at + sight of the sun. The red disk rose, and a golden fire burned over the + glowing face of that lonely waste. + </p> + <p> + The Navajo, dark, stately, inscrutable, faced the sun—his god. This + was his Great Spirit. The desert was his mother, but the sun was his life. + To the keeper of the winds and rains, to the master of light, to the maker + of fire, to the giver of life the Navajo sent up his prayer: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Of all the good things of the Earth let me always have plenty. + Of all the beautiful things of the Earth let me always have plenty. + Peacefully let my horses go and peacefully let my sheep go. + God of the Heavens, give me many sheep and horses. + God of the Heavens, help me to talk straight. + Goddess of the Earth, my Mother, let me walk straight. + Now all is well, now all is well, now all is well, now all is well. +</pre> + <p> + Hope and faith were his. + </p> + <p> + A chief would be born to save the vanishing tribe of Navajos. A bride + would rise from a wind—kiss of the lilies in the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + He drank from the clear, cold spring bubbling from under mossy rocks. He + went into the cedars, and the tracks in the trails told him of the + visitors of night. His mustangs whistled to him from the ridge-tops, + standing clear with heads up and manes flying, and then trooped down + through the sage. The shepherd-dogs, guardians of the flocks, barked him a + welcome, and the sheep bleated and the lambs pattered round him. + </p> + <p> + In the hogan by the warm, red fire his women baked his bread and cooked + his meat. And he satisfied his hunger. Then he took choice meat to the + hogan of a sick relative, and joined in the song and the dance and the + prayer that drove away the evil spirit of illness. Down in the valley, in + a sandy, sunny place, was his corn-field, and here he turned in the water + from the ditch, and worked awhile, and went his contented way. + </p> + <p> + He loved his people, his women, and his children. To his son he said: “Be + bold and brave. Grow like the pine. Work and ride and play that you may be + strong. Talk straight. Love your brother. Give half to your friend. Honor + your mother that you may honor your wife. Pray and listen to your gods.” + </p> + <p> + Then with his gun and his mustang he climbed the slope of the mountain. He + loved the solitude, but he was never alone. There were voices on the wind + and steps on his trail. The lofty pine, the lichened rock, the tiny + bluebell, the seared crag—all whispered their secrets. For him their + spirits spoke. In the morning light Old Stone Face, the mountain, was a + red god calling him to the chase. He was a brother of the eagle, at home + on the heights where the winds swept and the earth lay revealed below. + </p> + <p> + In the golden afternoon, with the warm sun on his back and the blue canyon + at his feet, he knew the joy of doing nothing. He did not need rest, for + he was never tired. The sage-sweet breath of the open was thick in his + nostrils, the silence that had so many whisperings was all about him, the + loneliness of the wild was his. His falcon eye saw mustang and sheep, the + puff of dust down on the cedar level, the Indian riding on a distant + ridge, the gray walls, and the blue clefts. Here was home, still free, + still wild, still untainted. He saw with the eyes of his ancestors. He + felt them around him. They had gone into the elements from which their + voices came on the wind. They were the watchers on his trails. + </p> + <p> + At sunset he faced the west, and this was his prayer: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Great Spirit, God of my Fathers, + Keep my horses in the night. + Keep my sheep in the night. + Keep my family in the night. + Let me wake to the day. + Let me be worthy of the light. + Now all is well, now all is well, + Now all is well, now all is well. +</pre> + <p> + And he watched the sun go down and the gold sink from the peaks and the + red die out of the west and the gray shadows creep out of the canyon to + meet the twilight and the slow, silent, mysterious approach of night with + its gift of stars. + </p> + <p> + Night fell. The white stars blinked. The wind sighed in the cedars. The + sheep bleated. The shepherd-dogs bayed the mourning coyotes. And the + Indian lay down in his blankets with his dark face tranquil in the + starlight. All was well in his lonely world. Phantoms hovered, illness + lingered, injury and pain and death were there, the shadow of a strange + white hand flitted across the face of the moon—but now all was well—the + Navajo had prayed to the god of his Fathers. Now all was well! + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + And this, thought Shefford in revolt, was what the white man had killed in + the Indian tribes, was reaching out now to kill in this wild remnant of + the Navajos. The padre, the trapper, the trader, the prospector, and the + missionary—so the white man had come, some of him good, no doubt, + but more of him evil; and the young brave learned a thirst that could + never be quenched at the cold, sweet spring of his forefathers, and the + young maiden burned with a fever in her blood, and lost the sweet, + strange, wild fancies of her tribe. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake came to Shefford and said, “Withers told me you had a mix-up with + a missionary at Red Lake.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I regret to say,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “About Glen Naspa?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Nas Ta Bega's sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Withers just mentioned it. Who was the missionary?” + </p> + <p> + “Willetts, so Presbrey, the trader, said.” + </p> + <p> + “What'd he look like?” + </p> + <p> + Shefford recalled the smooth, brown face, the dark eyes, the weak chin, + the mild expression, and the soft, lax figure of the missionary. + </p> + <p> + “Can't tell by what you said,” went on Joe. “But I'll bet a peso to a + horse-hair that's the fellow who's been here. Old Hosteen Doetin just told + me. First visits he ever had from the priest with the long gown. That's + what he called the missionary. These old fellows will never forget what's + come down from father to son about the Spanish padres. Well, anyway, + Willetts has been here twice after Glen Naspa. The old chap is impressed, + but he doesn't want to let the girl go. I'm inclined to think Glen Naspa + would as lief go as stay. She may be a Navajo, but she's a girl. She won't + talk much.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Nas Ta Bega?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “He rode off somewhere yesterday. Perhaps to the Piute camp. These Indians + are slow. They may take a week to pack that load over here. But if Nas Ta + Bega or some one doesn't come with a message to-day I'll ride over there + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Joe, what do you think about this missionary?” queried Shefford, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon there's not much to think, unless you see him or find out + something. I heard of Willetts before Withers spoke of him. He's friendly + with Mormons. I understand he's worked for Mormon interests, someway or + other. That's on the quiet. Savvy? This matter of him coming after Glen + Naspa, reckon that's all right. The missionaries all go after the young + people. What'd be the use to try to convert the old Indians? No, the + missionary's work is to educate the Indian, and, of course, the younger he + is the better.” + </p> + <p> + “You approve of the missionary?” + </p> + <p> + “Shefford, if you understood a Mormon you wouldn't ask that. Did you ever + read or hear of Jacob Hamblin?... Well, he was a Mormon missionary among + the Navajos. The Navajos were as fierce as Apaches till Hamblin worked + among them. He made them friendly to the white man.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn't prove he made converts of them,” replied Shefford, still + bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “No. For the matter of that, Hamblin let religion alone. He made presents, + then traded with them, then taught them useful knowledge. Mormon or not, + Shefford, I'll admit this: a good man, strong with his body, and learned + in ways with his hands, with some knowledge of medicine, can better the + condition of these Indians. But just as soon as he begins to preach his + religion, then his influence wanes. That's natural. These heathen have + their ideals, their gods.” + </p> + <p> + “Which the white man should leave them!” replied Shefford, feelingly. + </p> + <p> + “That's a matter of opinion. But don't let's argue.... Willetts is after + Glen Naspa. And if I know Indian girls he'll persuade her to go to his + school.” + </p> + <p> + “Persuade her!” Then Shefford broke off and related the incident that had + occurred at Red Lake. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon any means justifies the end,” replied Joe, imperturbably. “Let him + talk love to her or rope her or beat her, so long as he makes a Christian + of her.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford felt a hot flush and had difficulty in controlling himself. From + this single point of view the Mormon was impossible to reason with. + </p> + <p> + “That, too, is a matter of opinion. We won't discuss it,” continued + Shefford. “But—if old Hosteen Doetin objects to the girl leaving, + and if Nas Ta Bega does the same, won't that end the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon not. The end of the matter is Glen Naspa. If she wants to go + she'll go.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford thought best to drop the discussion. For the first time he had + occasion to be repelled by something in this kind and genial Mormon, and + he wanted to forget it. Just as he had never talked about men to the + sealed wives in the hidden valley, so he could not talk of women to Joe + Lake. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega did not return that day, but, next morning a messenger came + calling Lake to the Piute camp. Shefford spent the morning high on the + slope, learning more with every hour in the silence and loneliness, that + he was stronger of soul than he had dared to hope, and that the added pain + which had come to him could be borne. + </p> + <p> + Upon his return toward camp, in the cedar grove, he caught sight of Glen + Naspa with a white man. They did not see him. When Shefford recognized + Willetts an embarrassment as well as an instinct made him halt and step + into a bushy, low-branched cedar. It was not his intention to spy on them. + He merely wanted to avoid a meeting. But the missionary's hand on the + girl's arm, and her up-lifted head, her pretty face, strange, intent, + troubled, struck Shefford with an unusual and irresistible curiosity. + Willetts was talking earnestly; Glen Naspa was listening intently. + Shefford watched long enough to see that the girl loved the missionary, + and that he reciprocated or was pretending. His manner scarcely savored of + pretense, Shefford concluded, as he slipped away under the trees. + </p> + <p> + He did not go at once into camp. He felt troubled, and wished that he had + not encountered the two. His duty in the matter, of course, was to tell + Nas Ta Bega what he had seen. Upon reflection Shefford decided to give the + missionary the benefit of a doubt; and if he really cared for the Indian + girl, and admitted or betrayed it, to think all the better of him for the + fact. Glen Naspa was certainly pretty enough, and probably lovable enough, + to please any lonely man in this desert. The pain and the yearning in + Shefford's heart made him lenient. He had to fight himself—not to + forget, for that was impossible—but to keep rational and sane when a + white flower-like face haunted him and a voice called. + </p> + <p> + The cracking of hard hoofs on stones caused him to turn toward camp, and + as he emerged from the cedar grove he saw three Indian horsemen ride into + the cleared space before the hogans. They were superbly mounted and well + armed, and impressed him as being different from Navajos. Perhaps they + were Piutes. They dismounted and led the mustangs down to the pool below + the spring. Shefford saw another mustang, standing bridle down and + carrying a pack behind the saddle. Some squaws with children hanging + behind their skirts were standing at the door of Hosteen Doetin's hogan. + Shefford glanced in to see Glen Naspa, pale, quiet, almost sullen. + Willetts stood with his hands spread. The old Navajo's seamed face worked + convulsively as he tried to lift his bent form to some semblance of + dignity, and his voice rolled out, sonorously: “Me no savvy Jesus Christ! + Me hungry! ... Me no eat Jesus Christ!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford drew back as if he had received a blow. That had been Hosteen + Doetin's reply to the importunities of the missionary. The old Navajo + could work no longer. His sons were gone. His squaw was worn out. He had + no one save Glen Naspa to help him. She was young, strong. He was hungry. + What was the white man's religion to him? + </p> + <p> + With long, swift stride Shefford entered the hogan. Willetts, seeing him, + did not look so mild as Shefford had him pictured in memory, nor did he + appear surprised. Shefford touched Hosteen Doetin's shoulder and said, + “Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + The aged Navajo lifted a shaking hand. + </p> + <p> + “Me no savvy Jesus Christ! Me hungry!... Me no eat Jesus Christ!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford then made signs that indicated the missionary's intention to take + the girl away. “Him come—big talk—Jesus—all Jesus.... Me + no want Glen Naspa go,” replied the Indian. + </p> + <p> + Shefford turned to the missionary. + </p> + <p> + “Willetts, is he a relative of the girl?” + </p> + <p> + “There's some blood tie, I don't know what. But it's not close,” replied + Willetts. + </p> + <p> + “Then don't you think you'd better wait till Nas Ta Bega returns? He's her + brother.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” demanded Willetts. “That Indian may be gone a week. She's + willing to accompany the missionary.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford looked at the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Glen Naspa, do you want to go?” + </p> + <p> + She was shy, ashamed, and silent, but manifestly willing to accompany the + missionary. Shefford pondered a moment. How he hoped Nas Ta Bega would + come back! It was thought of the Indian that made Shefford stubborn. What + his stand ought to be was hard to define, unless he answered to impulse; + and here in the wilds he had become imbued with the idea that his impulses + and instincts were no longer false. + </p> + <p> + “Willetts, what do you want with the girl?” queried Shefford, coolly, and + at the question he seemed to find himself. He peered deliberately and + searchingly into the other's face. The missionary's gaze shifted and a + tinge of red crept up from under his collar. + </p> + <p> + “Absurd thing to ask a missionary!” he burst out, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Do you care for Glen Naspa?” + </p> + <p> + “I care as God's disciple—who cares to save the soul of heathen,” he + replied, with the lofty tone of prayer. + </p> + <p> + “Has Glen Naspa no—no other interest in you—except to be + taught religion?” + </p> + <p> + The missionary's face flamed, and his violent tremor showed that under his + exterior there was a different man. + </p> + <p> + “What right have you to question me?” he demanded. “You're an adventurer—an + outcast. I've my duty here. I'm a missionary with Church and state and + government behind me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm an outcast,” replied Shefford, bitterly. “And you may be all you + say. But we're alone now out here on the desert. And this girl's brother + is absent. You haven't answered me yet.... Is there anything between you + and Glen Naspa except religion?” + </p> + <p> + “No, you insulting beggar?” + </p> + <p> + Shefford had forced the reply that he had expected and which damned the + missionary beyond any consideration. + </p> + <p> + “Willetts, you are a liar!” said Shefford, steadily. + </p> + <p> + “And what are you?” cried Willetts, in shrill fury. “I've heard all about + you. Heretic! Atheist! Driven from your Church! Hated and scorned for your + blasphemy!” + </p> + <p> + Then he gave way to ungovernable rage, and cursed Shefford as a religious + fanatic might have cursed the most debased sinners. Shefford heard with + the blood beating, strangling the pulse in his ears. Somehow this + missionary had learned his secret—most likely from the Mormons in + Stonebridge. And the terms of disgrace were coals of fire upon Shefford's + head. Strangely, however, he did not bow to them, as had been his humble + act in the past, when his calumniators had arraigned and flayed him. + Passion burned in him now, for the first time in his life, made a tiger of + him. And these raw emotions, new to him, were difficult to control. + </p> + <p> + “You can't take the girl,” he replied, when the other had ceased. “Not + without her brother's consent.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take her!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford threw him out of the hogan and strode after him. Willetts had + stumbled. When he straightened up he was white and shaken. He groped for + the bridle of his horse while keeping his eyes upon Shefford, and when he + found it he whirled quickly, mounted, and rode off. Shefford saw him halt + a moment under the cedars to speak with the three strange Indians, and + then he galloped away. It came to Shefford then that he had been + unconscious of the last strained moment of that encounter. He seemed all + cold, tight, locked, and was amazed to find his hand on his gun. Verily + the wild environment had liberated strange instincts and impulses, which + he had answered. That he had no regrets proved how he had changed. + </p> + <p> + Shefford heard the old woman scolding. Peering into the hogan, he saw Glen + Naspa flounce sullenly down, for all the world like any other thwarted + girl. Hosteen Doetin came out and pointed down the slope at the departing + missionary. + </p> + <p> + “Heap talk Jesus—all talk—all Jesus!” he exclaimed, + contemptuously. Then he gave Shefford a hard rap on the chest. “Small talk—heap + man!” + </p> + <p> + The matter appeared to be adjusted for the present. But Shefford felt that + he had made a bitter enemy, and perhaps a powerful one. + </p> + <p> + He prepared and ate his supper alone that evening, for Joe Lake and Nas Ta + Bega did not put in an appearance. He observed that the three strange + Indians, whom he took for Piutes, kept to themselves, and, so far as he + knew, had no intercourse with any one at the camp. This would not have + seemed unusual, considering the taciturn habit of Indians, had he not + remembered seeing Willetts speak to the trio. What had he to do with them? + Shefford was considering the situation with vague doubts when, to his + relief, the three strangers rode off into the twilight. Then he went to + bed. + </p> + <p> + He was awakened by violence. It was the gray hour before dawn. Dark forms + knelt over him. A cloth pressed down hard over his mouth: Strong hands + bound it while other strong hands held him. He could not cry out. He could + not struggle. A heavy weight, evidently a man, held down his feet. Then he + was rolled over, securely bound, and carried, to be thrown like a sack + over the back of a horse. + </p> + <p> + All this happened so swiftly as to be bewildering. He was too astounded to + be frightened. As he hung head downward he saw the legs of a horse and a + dim trail. A stirrup swung to and fro, hitting him in the face. He began + to feel exceedingly uncomfortable, with a rush of blood to his head, and + cramps in his arms and legs. This kept on and grew worse for what seemed a + long time. Then the horse was stopped and a rude hand tumbled him to the + ground. Again he was rolled over on his face. Strong fingers plucked at + his clothes, and he believed he was being searched. His captors were as + silent as if they had been dumb. He felt when they took his pocketbook and + his knife and all that he had. Then they cut, tore, and stripped off all + his clothing. He was lifted, carried a few steps, and dropped upon what + seemed a soft, low mound, and left lying there, still tied and naked. + Shefford heard the rustle of sage and the dull thud of hoofs as his + assailants went away. + </p> + <p> + His first sensation was one of immeasurable relief. He had not been + murdered. Robbery was nothing. And though roughly handled, he had not been + hurt. He associated the assault with the three strange visitors of the + preceding day. Still, he had no proof of that. Not the slightest clue + remained to help him ascertain who had attacked him. + </p> + <p> + It might have been a short while or a long one, his mind was so filled + with growing conjectures, but a time came when he felt cold. As he lay + face down, only his back felt cold at first. He was grateful that he had + not been thrown upon the rocks. The ground under him appeared soft, + spongy, and gave somewhat as he breathed. He had really sunk down a little + in this pile of soft earth. The day was not far off, as he could tell by + the brightening of the gray. He began to suffer with the cold, and then + slowly he seemed to freeze and grow numb. In an effort to roll over upon + his back he discovered that his position, or his being bound, or the + numbness of his muscles was responsible for the fact that he could not + move. Here was a predicament. It began to look serious. What would a few + hours of the powerful sun do to his uncovered skin? Somebody would trail + and find him: still, he might not be found soon. + </p> + <p> + He saw the sky lighten, turn rosy and then gold. The sun shone upon him, + but some time elapsed before he felt its warmth. All of a sudden a pain, + like a sting, shot through his shoulder. He could not see what caused it; + probably a bee. Then he felt another upon his leg, and about + simultaneously with it a tiny, fiery stab in his side. A sickening + sensation pervaded his body, slowly moving, as if poison had entered the + blood of his veins. Then a puncture, as from a hot wire, entered the skin + of his breast. Unmistakably it was a bite. By dint of great effort he + twisted his head to see a big red ant on his breast. Then he heard a faint + sound, so exceedingly faint that he could not tell what it was like. But + presently his strained ears detected a low, swift, rustling, creeping + sound, like the slipping rattle of an infinite number of tiny bits of + moving gravel. Then it was a sound like the seeping of wind-blown sand. + Several hot bites occurred at once. And then with his head twisted he saw + a red stream of ants pour out of the mound and spill over his quivering + flesh. + </p> + <p> + In an instant he realized his position. He had been dropped intentionally + upon an ant-heap, which had sunk with his weight, wedging him between the + crusts. At the mercy of those terrible desert ants! A frantic effort to + roll out proved futile, as did another and another. His violent muscular + contractions infuriated the ants, and in an instant he was writhing in + pain so horrible and so unendurable that he nearly fainted. But he was too + strong to faint suddenly. A bath of vitriol, a stripping of his skin and + red embers of fire thrown upon raw flesh, could not have equaled this. + There was fury in the bites and poison in the fangs of these ants. Was + this an Indian's brutal trick or was it the missionary's revenge? Shefford + realized that it would kill him soon. He sweat what seemed blood, although + perhaps the blood came from the bites. A strange, hollow, buzzing roar + filled his ears, and it must have been the pouring of the angry ants from + their mound. + </p> + <p> + Then followed a time that was hell—worse than fire, for fire would + have given merciful death—agony under which his physical being began + spasmodically to jerk and retch—and his eyeballs turned and his + breast caved in. + </p> + <p> + A cry rang through the roar in his ears. “Bi Nai! Bi Nai!” + </p> + <p> + His fading sight seemed to shade round the dark face of Nas Ta Bega. + </p> + <p> + Then powerful hands dragged him from the mound, through the grass and + sage, rolled him over and over, and brushed his burning skin with strong, + swift sweep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. IN THE DESERT CRUCIBLE + </h2> + <p> + That hard experience was but the beginning of many cruel trials for John + Shefford. + </p> + <p> + He never knew who his assailants were, nor their motive other than + robbery; and they had gotten little, for they had not found the large sum + of money sewed in the lining of his coat. Joe Lake declared it was Shadd's + work, and the Mormon showed the stern nature that lay hidden under his + mild manner. Nas Ta Bega shook his head and would not tell what he + thought. But a somber fire burned in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + The three started with a heavily laden pack-train and went down the + mountain slope into West canyon. The second day they were shot at from the + rim of the walls. Lake was wounded, hindering the swift flight necessary + to escape deeper into the canyon. Here they hid for days, while the Mormon + recovered and the Indian took stealthy trips to try to locate the enemy. + Lack of water and grass for the burros drove them on. They climbed out of + a side canyon, losing several burros on a rough trail, and had proceeded + to within half a day's journey of Red Lake when they were attacked while + making camp in a cedar grove. Shefford sustained an exceedingly painful + injury to his leg, but, fortunately, the bullet went through without + breaking a bone. With that burning pain there came to Shefford the meaning + of fight, and his rifle grew hot in his hands. Night alone saved the trio + from certain fatality. Under the cover of darkness the Indian helped + Shefford to escape. Joe Lake looked out for himself. The pack-train was + lost, and the mustangs, except Nack-yal. + </p> + <p> + Shefford learned what it meant to lie out at night, listening for pursuit, + cold to his marrow, sick with dread, and enduring frightful pain from a + ragged bullet-hole. Next day the Indian led him down into the red basin, + where the sun shone hot and the sand reflected the heat. They had no + water. A wind arose and the valley became a place of flying sand. Through + a heavy, stifling pall Nas Ta Bega somehow got Shefford to the + trading-post at Red Lake. Presbrey attended to Shefford's injury and made + him comfortable. Next day Joe Lake limped in, surly and somber, with the + news that Shadd and eight or ten of his outlaw gang had gotten away with + the pack-train. + </p> + <p> + In short time Shefford was able to ride, and with his companions went over + the pass to Kayenta. Withers already knew of his loss, and all he said was + that he hoped to meet Shadd some day. + </p> + <p> + Shefford showed a reluctance to go again to the hidden village in the + silent canyon with the rounded walls. The trader appeared surprised, but + did not press the point. And Shefford meant sooner or later to tell him, + yet never quite reached the point. The early summer brought more work for + the little post, and Shefford toiled with the others. He liked the outdoor + tasks, and at night was grateful that he was too tired to think. Then + followed trips to Durango and Bluff and Monticello. He rode fifty miles a + day for many days. He knew how a man fares who packs light and rides far + and fast. When the Indian was with him he got along well, but Nas Ta Bega + would not go near the towns. Thus many mishaps were Shefford's fortune. + </p> + <p> + Many and many a mile he trailed his mustang, for Nack-yal never forgot the + Sagi, and always headed for it when he broke his hobbles. Shefford + accompanied an Indian teamster in to Durango with a wagon and four wild + mustangs. Upon the return, with a heavy load of supplies, accident put + Shefford in charge of the outfit. In despair he had to face the hardest + task that could have been given him—to take care of a crippled + Indian, catch, water, feed, harness, and drive four wild mustangs that did + not know him and tried to kill him at every turn, and to get that precious + load of supplies home to Kayenta. That he accomplished it proved to hint + the possibilities of a man, for both endurance and patience. From that + time he never gave up in the front of any duty. + </p> + <p> + In the absence of an available Indian he rode to Durango and back in + record time. Upon one occasion he was lost in a canyon for days, with no + food and little water. Upon another he went through a sand-storm in the + open desert, facing it for forty miles and keeping to the trail; When he + rode in to Kayenta that night the trader, in grim praise, said there was + no worse to endure. At Monticello Shefford stood off a band of + desperadoes, and this time Shefford experienced a strange, sickening shock + in the wounding of a man. Later he had other fights, but in none of them + did he know whether or not he had shed blood. + </p> + <p> + The heat of midsummer came, when the blistering sun shone, and a hot blast + blew across the sand, and the furious storms made floods in the washes. + Day and night Shefford was always in the open, and any one who had ever + known him in the past would have failed to recognize him now. + </p> + <p> + In the early fall, with Nas Ta Bega as companion, he set out to the south + of Kayenta upon long-neglected business of the trader. They visited Red + Lake, Blue canyon, Keams canyon, Oribi, the Moki villages, Tuba, + Moencopie, and Moen Ave. This trip took many weeks and gave Shefford all + the opportunity he wanted to study the Indians, and the conditions nearer + to the border of civilization. He learned the truth about the Indians and + the missionaries. + </p> + <p> + Upon the return trip he rode over the trail he had followed alone to Red + Lake and thence on to the Sagi, and it seemed that years had passed since + he first entered this wild region which had come to be home, years that + had molded him in the stern and fiery crucible of the desert. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. STONEBRIDGE + </h2> + <p> + In October Shefford arranged for a hunt in the Cresaw Mountains with Joe + Lake and Nas Ta Bega. The Indian had gone home for a short visit, and upon + his return the party expected to start. But Nas Ta Bega did not come back. + Then the arrival of a Piute with news that excited Withers and greatly + perturbed Lake convinced Shefford that something was wrong. + </p> + <p> + The little trading-post seldom saw such disorder; certainly Shefford had + never known the trader to neglect work. Joe Lake threw a saddle on a + mustang he would have scorned to notice in an ordinary moment, and without + a word of explanation or farewell rode hard to the north on the + Stonebridge trail. + </p> + <p> + Shefford had long since acquired patience. He was curious, but he did not + care particularly what was in the wind. However, when Withers came out and + sent an Indian to drive up the horses Shefford could not refrain from a + query. + </p> + <p> + “I hate to tell you,” replied the trader. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” added Shefford, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Did I tell you about the government sending a Supreme Court judge out to + Utah to prosecute the polygamists?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to, I reckon. You've been away a lot. Well, there's been hell up + in Utah for six months. Lately this judge and his men have worked down + into southern Utah. He visited Bluff and Monticello a few weeks ago.... + Now what do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “Withers! Is he coming to Stonebridge?” + </p> + <p> + “He's there now. Some one betrayed the whereabouts of the hidden village + over in the canyon. All the women have been arrested and taken to + Stonebridge. The trial begins to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Arrested!” echoed Shefford, blankly. “Those poor, lonely, good women? + What on earth for?” + </p> + <p> + “Sealed wives!” exclaimed Withers, tersely. “This judge is after the + polygamists. They say he's absolutely relentless.” + </p> + <p> + “But—women can't be polygamists. Their husbands are the ones + wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. But the prosecutors have got to find the sealed wives—the + second wives—to find the law-breaking husbands. That'll be a job, or + I don't know Mormons.... Are you going to ride over to Stonebridge with + me?” + </p> + <p> + Shefford shrank at the idea. Months of toil and pain and travail had not + been enough to make him forget the strange girl he had loved. But he had + remembered only at poignant intervals, and the lapse of time had made + thought of her a dream like that sad dream which had lured him into the + desert. With the query of the trader came a bitter-sweet regret. + </p> + <p> + “Better come with me,” said Withers. “Have you forgotten the Sago Lily? + She'll be put on trial.... That girl—that child!... Shefford, you + know she hasn't any friends. And now no Mormon man are protect her, for + fear of prosecution.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go,” replied Shefford, shortly. + </p> + <p> + The Indian brought up the horses. Nack-yal was thin from his long travel + during the hot summer, but he was as hard as iron, and the way he pointed + his keen nose toward the Sagi showed how he wanted to make for the upland + country, with its clear springs and valleys of grass. Withers mounted his + bay and with a hurried farewell to his wife spurred the mustang into the + trail. Shefford took time to get his weapons and the light pack he always + carried, and then rode out after the trader. + </p> + <p> + The pace Withers set was the long, steady lope to which these Indian + mustangs had been trained all their lives. In an hour they reached the + mouth of the Sagi, and at sight of it it seemed to Shefford that the hard + half-year of suffering since he had been there had disappeared. Withers, + to Shefford's regret, did not enter the Sagi. He turned off to the north + and took a wild trail into a split of the red wall, and wound in and out, + and climbed a crack so narrow that the light was obscured and the cliffs + could be reached from both sides of a horse. + </p> + <p> + Once up on the wild plateau, Shefford felt again in a different world from + the barren desert he had lately known. The desert had crucified him and + had left him to die or survive, according to his spirit and his strength. + If he had loved the glare, the endless level, the deceiving distance, the + shifting sand, it had certainly not been as he loved this softer, wilder, + more intimate upland. With the red peaks shining up into the blue, and the + fragrance of cedar and pinon, and the purple sage and flowers and grass + and splash of clear water over stones—with these there came back to + him something that he had lost and which had haunted him. + </p> + <p> + It seemed he had returned to this wild upland of color and canyon and + lofty crags and green valleys and silent places with a spirit gained from + victory over himself in the harsher and sterner desert below. And, strange + to him, he found his old self, the dreamer, the artist, the lover of + beauty, the searcher for he knew not what, come to meet him on the + fragrant wind. + </p> + <p> + He felt this, saw the old wildness with glad eyes, yet the greater part of + his mind was given over to the thought of the unfortunate women he + expected to see in Stonebridge. + </p> + <p> + Withers was harder to follow, to keep up with, than an Indian. For one + thing he was a steady and tireless rider, and for another there were times + when he had no mercy on a horse. Then an Indian always found easier steps + in a trail and shorter cuts. Withers put his mount to some bad slopes, and + Shefford had no choice but to follow. But they crossed the great broken + bench of upland without mishap, and came out upon a promontory of a + plateau from which Shefford saw a wide valley and the dark-green alfalfa + fields of Stonebridge. + </p> + <p> + Stonebridge lay in the center of a fertile valley surrounded by pink + cliffs. It must have been a very old town, certainly far older than Bluff + or Monticello, though smaller, and evidently it had been built to last. + There was one main street, very wide, that divided the town and was + crossed at right angles by a stream spanned by a small natural stone + bridge. A line of poplar-trees shaded each foot-path. The little log + cabins and stone houses and cottages were half hidden in foliage now + tinted with autumn colors. Toward the center of the town the houses and + stores and shops fronted upon the street and along one side of a green + square, or plaza. Here were situated several edifices, the most prominent + of which was a church built of wood, whitewashed, and remarkable, + according to Withers, for the fact that not a nail had been used in its + construction. Beyond the church was a large, low structure of stone, with + a split-shingle roof, and evidently this was the town hall. + </p> + <p> + Shefford saw, before he reached the square, that this day in Stonebridge + was one of singular action and excitement for a Mormon village. The town + was full of people and, judging from the horses hitched everywhere and the + big canvas-covered wagons, many of the people were visitors. A crowd + surrounded the hall—a dusty, booted, spurred, shirt-sleeved and + sombreroed assemblage that did not wear the hall-mark Shefford had come to + associate with Mormons. They were riders, cowboys, horse-wranglers, and + some of them Shefford had seen in Durango. Navajos and Piutes were + present, also, but they loitered in the background. + </p> + <p> + Withers drew Shefford off to the side where, under a tree, they hitched + their horses. + </p> + <p> + “Never saw Stonebridge full of a riffraff gang like this to-day,” said + Withers. “I'll bet the Mormons are wild. There's a tough outfit from + Durango. If they can get anything to drink—or if they've got it—Stonebridge + will see smoke to-day!... Come on. I'll get in that hall.” + </p> + <p> + But before Withers reached the hall he started violently and pulled up + short, then, with apparent unconcern, turned to lay a hand upon Shefford. + The trader's face had blanched and his eyes grew hard and shiny, like + flint. He gripped Shefford's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Look! Over to your left!” he whispered. “See that gang of Indians there—by + the big wagon. See the short Indian with the chaps. He's got a face big as + a ham, dark, fierce. That's Shadd!... You ought to know him. Shadd and his + outfit here! How's that for nerve? But he pulls a rein with the Mormons.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford's keen eye took in a lounging group of ten or twelve Indians and + several white men. They did not present any great contrast to the other + groups except that they were isolated, appeared quiet and watchful, and + were all armed. A bunch of lean, racy mustangs, restive and spirited, + stood near by in charge of an Indian. Shefford had to take a second and + closer glance to distinguish the half-breed. At once he recognized in + Shadd the broad-faced squat Indian who had paid him a threatening visit + that night long ago in the mouth of the Sagi. A fire ran along Shefford's + veins and seemed to concentrate in his breast. Shadd's dark, piercing eyes + alighted upon Shefford and rested there. Then the half-breed spoke to one + of his white outlaws and pointed at Shefford. His action attracted the + attention of others in the gang, and for a moment Shefford and Withers + were treated to a keen-eyed stare. + </p> + <p> + The trader cursed low. “Maybe I wouldn't like to mix it with that damned + breed,” he said. “But what chance have we with that gang? Besides, we're + here on other and more important business. All the same, before I forget, + let me remind you that Shadd has had you spotted ever since you came out + here. A friendly Piute told me only lately. Shefford, did any Indian + between here and Flagstaff ever see that bunch of money you persist in + carrying?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, I suppose so—'way back in Tuba, when I first came out,” + replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Well, Shadd's after that.... Come on now, let's get inside the + hall.” + </p> + <p> + The crowd opened for the trader, who appeared to be known to everybody. + </p> + <p> + A huge man with a bushy beard blocked the way to a shut door. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Meade!” said Withers. “Let us in.” + </p> + <p> + The man opened the door, permitted Withers and Shefford to enter, and then + closed it. + </p> + <p> + Shefford, coming out of the bright glare of sun into the hall, could not + see distinctly at first. His eyes blurred. He heard a subdued murmur of + many voices. Withers appeared to be affected with the same kind of + blindness, for he stood bewildered a moment. But he recovered sooner than + Shefford. Gradually the darkness shrouding many obscure forms lifted. + Withers drew him through a crowd of men and women to one side of the hall, + and squeezed along a wall to a railing where progress was stopped. + </p> + <p> + Then Shefford raised his head to look with bated breath and strange + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + The hall was large and had many windows. Men were in consultation upon a + platform. Women to the number of twenty sat close together upon benches. + Back of them stood another crowd. But the women on the benches held + Shefford's gaze. They were the prisoners. They made a somber group. Some + were hooded, some veiled, all clad in dark garments except one on the + front bench, and she was dressed in white. She wore a long hood that + concealed her face. Shefford recognized the hood and then the slender + shape. She was Mary—she whom her jealous neighbors had named the + Sago Lily. At sight of her a sharp pain pierced Shefford's breast. His + eyes were blurred when he forced them away from her, and it took a moment + for him to see clearly. + </p> + <p> + Withers was whispering to him or to some one near at hand, but Shefford + did not catch the meaning of what was said. He paid more attention; + however, Withers ceased speaking. Shefford gazed upon the crowd back of + him. The women were hooded and it was not possible to see what they looked + like. There were many stalwart, clean-cut, young Mormons of Joe Lake's + type, and these men appeared troubled, even distressed and at a loss. + There was little about them resembling the stern, quiet, somber austerity + of the more matured men, and nothing at all of the strange, aloof, serene + impassiveness of the gray-bearded old patriarchs. These venerable men were + the Mormons of the old school, the sons of the pioneers, the ruthless + fanatics. Instinctively Shefford felt that it was in them that polygamy + was embodied; they were the husbands of the sealed wives. He conceived an + absorbing curiosity to learn if his instinct was correct; and hard upon + that followed a hot, hateful eagerness to see which one was the husband of + Mary. + </p> + <p> + “There's Bishop Kane,” whispered Withers, nudging Shefford. “And there's + Waggoner with him.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford saw the bishop, and then beside him a man of striking presence. + </p> + <p> + “Who's Waggoner?” asked Shefford, as he looked. + </p> + <p> + “He owns more than any Mormon in southern Utah,” replied the trader. “He's + the biggest man in Stonebridge, that's sure. But I don't know his relation + to the Church. They don't call him elder or bishop. But I'll bet he's some + pumpkins. He never had any use for me or any Gentile. A close-fisted, + tight-lipped Mormon—a skinflint if I ever saw one! Just look him + over.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford had been looking, and considered it unlikely that he would ever + forget this individual called Waggoner. He seemed old, sixty at least, yet + at that only in the prime of a wonderful physical life. Unlike most of the + others, he wore his grizzled beard close-cropped, so close that it showed + the lean, wolfish line of his jaw. All his features were of striking + sharpness. His eyes, of a singularly brilliant blue, were yet cold and + pale. The brow had a serious, thoughtful cast; long furrows sloped down + the cheeks. It was a strange, secretive face, full of a power that + Shefford had not seen in another man's, full of intelligence and thought + that had not been used as Shefford had known them used among men. The face + mystified him. It had so much more than the strange aloofness so + characteristic of his fellows. + </p> + <p> + “Waggoner had five wives and fifty-five children before the law went into + effect,” whispered Withers. “Nobody knows and nobody will ever know how + many he's got now. That's my private opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow, after Withers told that, Shefford seemed to understand the + strange power in Waggoner's face. Absolutely it was not the force, the + strength given to a man from his years of control of men. Shefford, long + schooled now in his fair-mindedness, fought down the feelings of other + years, and waited with patience. Who was he to judge Waggoner or any other + Mormon? But whenever his glance strayed back to the quiet, slender form in + white, when he realized again and again the appalling nature of this + court, his heart beat heavy and labored within his breast. + </p> + <p> + Then a bustle among the men upon the platform appeared to indicate that + proceedings were about to begin. Some men left the platform; several sat + down at a table upon which were books and papers, and others remained + standing. These last were all roughly garbed, in riding-boots and spurs, + and Shefford's keen eye detected the bulge of hidden weapons. They looked + like deputy-marshals upon duty. + </p> + <p> + Somebody whispered that the judge's name was Stone. The name fitted him. + He was not young, and looked a man suited to the prosecution of these + secret Mormons. He had a ponderous brow, a deep, cavernous eye that + emitted gleams but betrayed no color or expression. His mouth was the + saving human feature of his stony face. + </p> + <p> + Shefford took the man upon the judge's right hand to be a lawyer, and the + one on his left an officer of court, perhaps a prosecuting attorney. + Presently this fellow pounded upon the table and stood up as if to address + a court-room. Certainly he silenced that hallful of people. Then he + perfunctorily and briefly stated that certain women had been arrested upon + suspicion of being sealed wives of Mormon polygamists, and were to be + herewith tried by a judge of the United States Court. Shefford felt how + the impressive words affected that silent hall of listeners, but he + gathered from the brief preliminaries that the trial could not be + otherwise than a crude, rapid investigation, and perhaps for that the more + sinister. + </p> + <p> + The first woman on the foremost bench was led forward by a deputy to a + vacant chair on the platform just in front of the judge's table. She was + told to sit down, and showed no sign that she had heard. Then the judge + courteously asked her to take the chair. She refused. And Stone nodded his + head as if he had experienced that sort of thing before. He stroked his + chin wearily, and Shefford conceived an idea that he was a kind man, if he + was a relentless judge. + </p> + <p> + “Please remove your veil,” requested the prosecutor. + </p> + <p> + The woman did so, and proved to be young and handsome. Shefford had a + thrill as he recognized her. She was Ruth, who had been one of his + best-known acquaintances in the hidden village. She was pale, angry, + almost sullen, and her breast heaved. She had no shame, but she seemed to + be outraged. Her dark eyes, scornful and blazing, passed over the judge + and his assistants, and on to the crowd behind the railing. Shefford, keen + as a blade, with all his faculties absorbed, fancied he saw Ruth stiffen + and change slightly as her glance encountered some one in that crowd. Then + the prosecutor in deliberate and chosen words enjoined her to kiss the + Bible handed to her and swear to tell the truth. How strange for Shefford + to see her kiss the book which he had studied for so many years! Stranger + still to hear the low murmur from the listening audience as she took the + oath! + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” asked Judge Stone, leaning back and fixing the + cavernous eyes upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth Jones,” was the cool reply. + </p> + <p> + “How old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “Where were you born?” went on the judge. He allowed time for the clerk to + record her answers. + </p> + <p> + “Panguitch, Utah.” + </p> + <p> + “Were your parents Mormons?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a Mormon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a married woman?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + The answer was instant, cold, final. It seemed to the truth. Almost + Shefford believed she spoke truth. The judge stroked his chin and waited a + moment, and then hesitatingly he went on. + </p> + <p> + “Have you—any children?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” And the blazing eyes met the cavernous ones. + </p> + <p> + That about the children was true enough, Shefford thought, and he could + have testified to it. + </p> + <p> + “You live in the hidden village near this town?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the name of this village?” + </p> + <p> + “It has none.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of Fre-donia, another village far west of here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It is in Arizona, near the Utah line. There are few men there. Is it the + same kind of village as this one in which you live?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What does Fre-donia mean? The name—has it any meaning?” + </p> + <p> + “It means free women.” + </p> + <p> + The judge maintained silence for a moment, turned to whisper to his + assistants, and presently, without glancing up, said to the woman: + </p> + <p> + “That will do.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth was led back to the bench, and the woman next to her brought forward. + This was a heavier person, with the figure and step of a matured woman. + Upon removing her bonnet she showed the plain face of a woman of forty, + and it was striking only in that strange, stony aloofness noted in the + older men. Here, Shefford thought, was the real Mormon, different in a way + he could not define from Ruth. This woman seated herself in the chair and + calmly faced her prosecutors. She manifested no emotion whatever. Shefford + remembered her and could not see any change in her deportment. This trial + appeared to be of little moment to her and she took the oath as if doing + so had been a habit all her life. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” asked Judge Stone, glancing up from a paper he held. + </p> + <p> + “Mary Danton.” + </p> + <p> + “Family or married name?” + </p> + <p> + “My husband's name was Danton.” + </p> + <p> + “Was. Is he living?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you live when you were married to him?” + </p> + <p> + “In St. George, and later here in Stonebridge.” + </p> + <p> + “You were both Mormons?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you have any children by him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How many?” + </p> + <p> + “Two.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they living?” + </p> + <p> + “One of them is living.” + </p> + <p> + Judge Stone bent over his paper and then slowly raised his eyes to her + face. + </p> + <p> + “Are you married now?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Again the judge consulted his notes, and held a whispered colloquy with + the two men at his table. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Danton, when you were arrested there were five children found in + your home. To whom do they belong?” + </p> + <p> + “Me.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you their mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Your husband Danton is the father of only one, the eldest, according to + your former statement. Is that correct?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Who, then, is the father—or who are the fathers, of your other + children?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + She said it with the most stony-faced calmness, with utter disregard of + what significance her words had. A strong, mystic wall of cold flint + insulated her. Strangely it came to Shefford how impossible either to + doubt or believe her. Yet he did both! Judge Stone showed a little heat. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know the father of one or all of these children?” he queried, + with sharp rising inflection of voice. + </p> + <p> + “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, I beg to remind you that you are under oath.” + </p> + <p> + The woman did not reply. + </p> + <p> + “These children are nameless, then—illegitimate?” + </p> + <p> + “They are.” + </p> + <p> + “You swear you are not the sealed wife of some Mormon?” + </p> + <p> + “I swear.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you live—maintain yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I work.” + </p> + <p> + “What at?” + </p> + <p> + “I weave, sew, bake, and work in my garden.” + </p> + <p> + “My men made note of your large and comfortable cabin, even luxurious, + considering this country. How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “My husband left me comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Judge Stone shook a warning finger at the defendant. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I were to sentence you to jail for perjury? For a year? Far from + your home and children! Would you speak—tell the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “I am telling the truth. I can't speak what I don't know.... Send me to + jail.” + </p> + <p> + Baffled, with despairing, angry impatience, Judge Stone waved the woman + away. + </p> + <p> + “That will do for her. Fetch the next one,” he said. + </p> + <p> + One after another he examined three more women, and arrived, by various + questions and answers different in tone and temper, at precisely the same + point as had been made in the case of Mrs. Danton. Thereupon the + proceedings rested a few moments while the judge consulted with his + assistants. + </p> + <p> + Shefford was grateful for this respite. He had been worked up to an + unusual degree of interest, and now, as the next Mormon woman to be + examined was she whom he had loved and loved still, he felt rise in him + emotion that threatened to make him conspicuous unless it could be hidden. + The answers of these Mormon women had been not altogether unexpected by + him, but once spoken in cold blood under oath, how tragic, how appallingly + significant of the shadow, the mystery, the yoke that bound them! He was + amazed, saddened. He felt bewildered. He needed to think out the meaning + of the falsehoods of women he knew to be good and noble. Surely religion, + instead of fear and loyalty, was the foundation and the strength of this + disgrace, this sacrifice. Absolutely, shame was not in these women, though + they swore to shameful facts. They had been coached to give these baffling + answers, every one of which seemed to brand them, not the brazen mothers + of illegitimate offspring, but faithful, unfortunate sealed wives. To + Shefford the truth was not in their words, but it sat upon their somber + brows. + </p> + <p> + Was it only his heightened imagination, or did the silence and the + suspense grow more intense when a deputy led that dark-hooded, white-clad, + slender woman to the defendant's chair? She did not walk with the poise + that had been manifest in the other women, and she sank into the chair as + if she could no longer stand. + </p> + <p> + “Please remove your hood,” requested the prosecutor. + </p> + <p> + How well Shefford remembered the strong, shapely hands! He saw them + tremble at the knot of ribbon, and that tremor was communicated to him in + a sympathy which made his pulses beat. He held his breath while she + removed the hood. And then there was revealed, he thought, the loveliest + and the most tragic face that ever was seen in a court-room. + </p> + <p> + A low, whispering murmur that swelled like a wave ran through the hall. + And by it Shefford divined, as clearly as if the fact had been blazoned on + the walls, that Mary's face had been unknown to these villagers. But the + name Sago Lily had not been unknown; Shefford heard it whispered on all + sides. + </p> + <p> + The murmuring subsided. The judge and his assistants stared at Mary. As + for Shefford, there was no need of his personal feeling to make the + situation dramatic. Not improbably Judge Stone had tried many Mormon + women. But manifestly this one was different. Unhooded, Mary appeared to + be only a young girl, and a court, confronted suddenly with her youth and + the suspicion attached to her, could not but have been shocked. Then her + beauty made her seem, in that somber company, indeed the white flower for + which she had been named. But, more likely, it was her agony that bound + the court into silence which grew painful. Perhaps the thought that + flashed into Shefford's mind was telepathic; it seemed to him that every + watcher there realized that in this defendant the judge had a girl of + softer mold, of different spirit, and from her the bitter truth could be + wrung. + </p> + <p> + Mary faced the court and the crowd on that side of the platform. Unlike + the other women, she did not look at or seem to see any one behind the + railing. Shefford was absolutely sure there was not a man or a woman who + caught her glance. She gazed afar, with eyes strained, humid, fearful. + </p> + <p> + When the prosecutor swore her to the oath her lips were seen to move, but + no one heard her speak. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” asked the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Mary.” Her voice was low, with a slight tremor. + </p> + <p> + “What's your other name?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't tell.” + </p> + <p> + Her singular reply, the tones of her voice, her manner before the judge, + marked her with strange simplicity. It was evident that she was not + accustomed to questions. + </p> + <p> + “What were your parents' names?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't tell,” she replied, very low. + </p> + <p> + Judge Stone did not press the point. Perhaps he wanted to make the + examination as easy as possible for her or to wait till she showed more + composure. + </p> + <p> + “Were your parents Mormons?” he went on. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” She added the sir with a quaint respect, contrasting markedly + with the short replies of the women before her. + </p> + <p> + “Then you were not born a Mormon?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Seventeen or eighteen. I'm not sure.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know your exact age?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Where were you born?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it in Utah?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How long have you lived in this state?” + </p> + <p> + “Always—except last year.” + </p> + <p> + “And that's been over in the hidden village where you were arrested?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But you often visited here—this town Stonebridge?” + </p> + <p> + “I never was here—till yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Judge Stone regarded her as if his interest as a man was running counter + to his duty as an officer. Suddenly he leaned forward. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a Mormon NOW?” he queried, forcibly. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” she replied, and here her voice rose a little clearer. + </p> + <p> + It was an unexpected reply. Judge Stone stared at her. The low buzz ran + through the listening crowd. And as for Shefford, he was astounded. When + his wits flashed back and he weighed her words and saw in her face truth + as clear as light, he had the strangest sensation of joy. Almost it + flooded away the gloom and pain that attended this ordeal. + </p> + <p> + The judge bent his head to his assistants as if for counsel. All of them + were eager where formerly they had been weary. Shefford glanced around at + the dark and somber faces, and a slow wrath grew within him. Then he + caught a glimpse of Waggoner. The steel-blue, piercing intensity of the + Mormon's gaze impressed him at a moment when all that older generation of + Mormons looked as hard and immutable as iron. Either Shefford was + over-excited and mistaken or the hour had become fraught with greater + suspense. The secret, the mystery, the power, the hate, the religion of a + strange people were thick and tangible in that hall. For Shefford the + feeling of the presence of Withers on his left was entirely different from + that of the Mormon on his other side. If there was not a shadow there, + then the sun did not shine so brightly as it had shone when he entered. + The air seemed clogged with nameless passion. + </p> + <p> + “I gather that you've lived mostly in the country—away from people?” + the judge began. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know anything about the government of the United States?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He pondered again, evidently weighing his queries, leading up to the fatal + and inevitable question. + </p> + <p> + Still, his interest in this particular defendant had become visible. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any idea of the consequences of perjury?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand what perjury is?” + </p> + <p> + “It's to lie.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you tell lies?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever told a single lie?” + </p> + <p> + “Not—yet,” she replied, almost whispering. + </p> + <p> + It was the answer of a child and affected the judge. He fussed with his + papers. Perhaps his task was not easy; certainly it was not pleasant. Then + he leaned forward again and fixed those deep, cavernous eyes upon the sad + face. + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand what a sealed wife is?” + </p> + <p> + “I've never been told.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know there are sealed wives in Utah?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; I've been told that.” + </p> + <p> + Judge Stone halted there, watching her. The hall was silent except for + faint rustlings and here and there deep breaths drawn guardedly. The vital + question hung like a sword over the white-faced girl. Perhaps she divined + its impending stroke, for she sat like a stone with dilating, appealing + eyes upon her executioner. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a sealed wife?” he flung at her. + </p> + <p> + She could not answer at once. She made effort, but the words would not + come. He flung the question again, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + And then there was silence. That poignant word quivered in Shefford's + heart. He believed it was a lie. It seemed he would have known it if this + hour was the first in which he had ever seen the girl. He heard, he felt, + he sensed the fatal thing. The beautiful voice had lacked some quality + before present. And the thing wanting was something subtle, an essence, a + beautiful ring—the truth. What a hellish thing to make that pure + girl a liar—a perjurer! The heat deep within Shefford kindled to + fire. + </p> + <p> + “You are not married?” went on Judge Stone. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” she answered, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been married?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect ever to be married?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + She was ashen pale now, quivering all over, with her strong hands clasping + the black hood, and she could no longer meet the judge's glance. + </p> + <p> + “Have you—any—any children?” the judge asked, haltingly. It + was a hard question to get out. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Judge Stone leaned far over the table, and that his face was purple showed + Shefford he was a man. His big fist clenched. + </p> + <p> + “Girl, you're not going to swear you, too, were visited—over there + by men... You're not going to swear that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—no, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Judge Stone settled back in his chair, and while he wiped his moist face + that same foreboding murmur, almost a menace, moaned through the hall. + </p> + <p> + Shefford was sick in his soul and afraid of himself. He did not know this + spirit that flamed up in him. His helplessness was a most hateful fact. + </p> + <p> + “Come—confess you are a sealed wife,” called her interrogator. + </p> + <p> + She maintained silence, but shook her head. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he seemed to leap forward. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunate child! Confess.” + </p> + <p> + That forced her to lift her head and face him, yet still she did not + speak. It was the strength of despair. She could not endure much more. + </p> + <p> + “Who is your husband?” he thundered at her. + </p> + <p> + She rose wildly, terror-stricken. It was terror that dominated her, not of + the stern judge, for she took a faltering step toward him, lifting a + shaking hand, but of some one or of some thing far more terrible than any + punishment she could have received in the sentence of a court. Still she + was not proof against the judge's will. She had weakened, and the terror + must have been because of that weakening. + </p> + <p> + “Who is the Mormon who visits you?” he thundered, relentlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I—never—knew—his—name. + </p> + <p> + “But you'd know his face. I'll arrest every Mormon in this country and + bring him before you. You'd know his face?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wouldn't. I COULDN'T TELL!... <i>I</i>—NEVER—SAW HIS + FACE—IN THE LIGHT!” + </p> + <p> + The tragic beauty of her, the certainty of some monstrous crime to youth + and innocence, the presence of an agony and terror that unfathomably + seemed not to be for herself—these transfixed the court and the + audience, and held them silenced, till she reached out blindly and then + sank in a heap to the floor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. AFTER THE TRIAL + </h2> + <p> + Shefford might have leaped over the railing but for Withers's restraining + hand, and when there appeared to be some sign of kindness in those other + women for the unconscious girl Shefford squeezed through the crowd and got + out of the hall. + </p> + <p> + The gang outside that had been denied admittance pressed upon Shefford, + with jest and curious query, and a good nature that jarred upon him. He + was far from gentle as he jostled off the first importuning fellows; the + others, gaping at him, opened a lane for him to pass through. + </p> + <p> + Then there was a hand laid on his shoulder that he did not shake off. Nas + Ta Bega loomed dark and tall beside him. Neither the trader nor Joe Lake + nor any white man Shefford had met influenced him as this Navajo. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega! you here, too. I guess the whole country is here. We waited + at Kayenta. What kept you so long?” + </p> + <p> + The Indian, always slow to answer, did not open his lips till he drew + Shefford apart from the noisy crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai, there is sorrow in the hogan of Hosteen Doetin,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Glen Naspa!” exclaimed Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “My sister is gone from the home of her brother. She went away alone in + the summer.” + </p> + <p> + “Blue canyon! She went to the missionary. Nas Ta Bega, I thought I saw her + there. But I wasn't sure. I didn't want to make sure. I was afraid it + might be true.” + </p> + <p> + “A brave who loved my sister trailed her there.” + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, will you—will we go find her, take her home?” + </p> + <p> + “No. She will come home some day.” + </p> + <p> + What bitter sadness and wisdom in his words! + </p> + <p> + “But, my friend, that damned missionary—” began Shefford, + passionately. The Indian had met him at a bad hour. + </p> + <p> + “Willetts is here. I saw him go in there,” interrupted Nas Ta Bega, and he + pointed to the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Here! He gets around a good deal,” declared Shefford. “Nas Ta Bega, what + are you going to do to him?” + </p> + <p> + The Indian held his peace and there was no telling from his inscrutable + face what might be in his mind. He was dark, impassive. He seemed a wise + and bitter Indian, beyond any savagery of his tribe, and the suffering + Shefford divined was deep. + </p> + <p> + “He'd better keep out of my sight,” muttered Shefford, more to himself + than to his companion. + </p> + <p> + “The half-breed is here,” said Nas Ta Bega. + </p> + <p> + “Shadd? Yes, we saw him. There! He's still with his gang. Nas Ta Bega, + what are they up to?” + </p> + <p> + “They will steal what they can.” + </p> + <p> + “Withers says Shadd is friendly with the Mormons.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and with the missionary, too.” + </p> + <p> + “With Willetts?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw them talk together—strong talk.” + </p> + <p> + “Strange. But maybe it's not so strange. Shadd is known well in Monticello + and Bluff. He spends money there. They are afraid of him, but he's welcome + just the same. Perhaps everybody knows him. It'd be like him to ride into + Kayenta. But, Nas Ta Bega, I've got to look out for him, because Withers + says he's after me.” + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai wears a scar that is proof,” said the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “Then it must be he found out long ago I had a little money.” + </p> + <p> + “It might be. But, Bi Nai, the half-breed has a strange step on your + trail.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” demanded Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega cannot tell what he does not know,” replied the Navajo. “Let + that be. We shall know some day. Bi Nai, there is sorrow to tell that is + not the Indian's.... Sorrow for my brother!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford lifted his eyes to the Indian's, and if he did not see sadness + there he was much deceived. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai, long ago you told a story to the trader. Nas Ta Bega sat before + the fire that night. You did not know he could understand your language. + He listened. And he learned what brought you to the country of the Indian. + That night he made you his brother.... All his lonely rides into the + canyon have been to find the little golden-haired child, the lost girl—Fay + Larkin.... Bi Nai, I have found the girl you wanted for your sweetheart.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford was bereft of speech. He could not see steadily, and the last + solemn words of the Indian seemed far away. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai, I have found Fay Larkin,” repeated Nas Ta Bega. + </p> + <p> + “Fay Larkin!” gasped Shefford, shaking his head. “But—she's dead.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be less sorrow for Bi Nai if she were dead.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford clutched at the Indian. There was something terrible to be + revealed. Like an aspen-leaf in the wind he shook all over. He divined the + revelation—divined the coming blow—but that was as far as his + mind got. + </p> + <p> + “She's in there,” said the Indian, pointing toward hall. + </p> + <p> + “Fay Larkin?” whispered Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bi Nai.” + </p> + <p> + “My God! HOW do you know? Oh, I could have seen. I've been blind. ... Tell + me, Indian. Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “Fay Larkin is the Sago Lily.” + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Shefford strode away into a secluded corner of the Square, where in the + shade and quiet of the trees he suffered a storm of heart and mind. During + that short or long time—he had no idea how long—the Indian + remained with him. He never lost the feeling of Nas Ta Bega close beside + him. When the period of acute pain left him and some order began to + replace the tumult in his mind he felt in Nas Ta Bega the same quality—silence + or strength or help—that he had learned to feel in the deep canyon + and the lofty crags. He realized then that the Indian was indeed a + brother. And Shefford needed him. What he had to fight was more fatal than + suffering and love—it was hate rising out of the unsuspected dark + gulf of his heart—the instinct to kill—the murder in his soul. + Only now did he come to understand Jane Withersteen's tragic story and the + passion of Venters and what had made Lassiter a gun-man. The desert had + transformed Shefford. The elements had entered into his muscle and bone, + into the very fiber of his heart. Sun, wind, sand, cold, storm, space, + stone, the poison cactus, the racking toil, the terrible loneliness—the + iron of the desert man, the cruelty of the desert savage, the wildness of + the mustang, the ferocity of hawk and wolf, the bitter struggle of every + surviving thing—these were as if they had been melted and merged + together and now made a dark and passionate stream that was his throbbing + blood. He realized what he had become and gloried in it, yet there, + looking on with grave and earnest eyes, was his old self, the man of + reason, of intellect, of culture, who had been a good man despite the + failure and shame of his life. And he gave heed to the voice of warning, + of conscience. Not by revengefully seeking the Mormon who had ruined Fay + Larkin and blindly dealing a wild justice could he help this unfortunate + girl. This fierce, newborn strength and passion must be tempered by + reason, lest he become merely elemental, a man answering wholly to + primitive impulses. In the darkness of that hour he mined deep into his + heart, understood himself, trembled at the thing he faced, and won his + victory. He would go forth from that hour a man. He might fight, and + perhaps there was death in the balance, but hate would never overthrow + him. + </p> + <p> + Then when he looked at future action he felt a strange, unalterable + purpose to save Fay Larkin. She was very young—seventeen or + eighteen, she had said—and there could be, there must be some + happiness before her. It had been his dream to chase a rainbow—it + had been his determination to find her in the lost Surprise Valley. Well, + he had found her. It never occurred to him to ask Nas Ta Bega how he had + discovered that the Sago Lily was Fay Larkin. The wonder was, Shefford + thought, that he had so long been blind himself. How simply everything + worked out now! Every thought, every recollection of her was proof. Her + strange beauty like that of the sweet and rare lily, her low voice that + showed the habit of silence, her shapely hands with the clasp strong as a + man's, her lithe form, her swift step, her wonderful agility upon the + smooth, steep trails, and the wildness of her upon the heights, and the + haunting, brooding shadow of her eyes when she gazed across the canyon—all + these fitted so harmoniously the conception of a child lost in a beautiful + Surprise Valley and growing up in its wildness and silence, tutored by the + sad love of broken Jane and Lassiter. Yes, to save her had been Shefford's + dream, and he had loved that dream. He had loved the dream and he had + loved the child. The secret of her hiding-place as revealed by the story + told him and his slow growth from dream to action—these had + strangely given Fay Larkin to him. Then had come the bitter knowledge that + she was dead. In the light of this subsequent revelation how easy to + account for his loving Mary, too. Never would she be Mary again to him! + Fay Larkin and the Sago Lily were one and the same. She was here, near + him, and he was powerless for the present to help her or to reveal + himself. She was held back there in that gloomy hall among those somber + Mormons, alien to the women, bound in some fatal way to one of the men, + and now, by reason of her weakness in the trial, surely to be hated. + Thinking of her past and her present, of the future, and that secret + Mormon whose face she had never seen, Shefford felt a sinking of his + heart, a terrible cold pang in his breast, a fainting of his spirit. She + had sworn she was no sealed wife. But had she not lied? So, then, how + utterly powerless he was! + </p> + <p> + But here to save him, to uplift him, came that strange mystic insight + which had been the gift of the desert to him. She was not dead. He had + found her. What mattered obstacles, even that implacable creed to which + she had been sacrificed, in the face of this blessed and overwhelming + truth? It was as mighty as the love suddenly dawning upon him. A strong + and terrible and deathly sweet wind seemed to fill his soul with the love + of her. It was her fate that had drawn him; and now it was her agony, her + innocence, her beauty, that bound him for all time. Patience and cunning + and toil, passion and blood, the unquenchable spirit of a man to save—these + were nothing to give—life itself were little, could he but free her. + </p> + <p> + Patience and cunning! His sharpening mind cut these out as his greatest + assets for the present. And his thoughts flashed like light through his + brain.... Judge Stone and his court would fail to convict any Mormon in + Stonebridge, just the same as they had failed in the northern towns. They + would go away, and Stonebridge would fall to the slow, sleepy tenor of its + former way. The hidden village must become known to all men, honest and + outlawed, in that country, but this fact would hardly make any quick + change in the plans of the Mormons. They did not soon change. They would + send the sealed wives back to the canyon and, after the excitement had + died down, visit them as usual. Nothing, perhaps, would ever change these + old Mormons but death. + </p> + <p> + Shefford resolved to remain in Stonebridge and ingratiate himself deeper + into the regard of the Mormons. He would find work there, if the sealed + wives were not returned to the hidden village. In case the women went back + to the valley Shefford meant to resume his old duty of driving Withers's + pack-trains. Wanting that opportunity, he would find some other work, some + excuse to take him there. In due time he would reveal to Fay Larkin that + he knew her. How the thought thrilled him! She might deny, might persist + in her fear, might fight to keep her secret. But he would learn it—hear + her story—hear what had become of Jane Withersteen and Lassiter—and + if they were alive, which now he believed he would find them—and he + would take them and Fay out of the country. + </p> + <p> + The duty, the great task, held a grim fascination for him. He had a + foreboding of the cost; he had a dark realization of the force he meant to + oppose. There were duty here and pity and unselfish love, but these alone + did not actuate Shefford. Mystically fate seemed again to come like a + gleam and bid him follow. + </p> + <p> + When Shefford and Nas Ta Bega returned to the town hall the trial had been + ended, the hall was closed, and only a few Indians and cowboys remained in + the square, and they were about to depart. On the street, however, and the + paths and in the doorways of stores were knots of people, talking + earnestly. Shefford walked up and down, hoping to meet Withers or Joe + Lake. Nas Ta Bega said he would take the horses to water and feed and then + return. + </p> + <p> + There were indications that Stonebridge might experience some of the + excitement and perhaps violence common to towns like Monticello and + Durango. There was only one saloon in Stonebridge, and it was full of + roystering cowboys and horse-wranglers. Shefford saw the bunch of + mustangs, in charge of the same Indian, that belonged to Shadd and his + gang. The men were inside, drinking. Next door was a tavern called + Hopewell House, a stone structure of some pretensions. There were Indians + lounging outside. Shefford entered through a wide door and found himself + in a large bare room, boarded like a loft, with no ceiling except the + roof. The place was full of men and noise. Here he encountered Joe Lake + talking to Bishop Kane and other Mormons. Shefford got a friendly greeting + from the bishop, and then was well received by the strangers, to whom Joe + introduced him. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen Withers?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon he's around somewhere,” replied Joe. “Better hang up here, for + he'll drop in sooner or later.” + </p> + <p> + “When are you going back to Kayenta?” went on Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Hard to say. We'll have to call off our hunt. Nas Ta Bega is here, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've been with him.” + </p> + <p> + The older Mormons drew aside, and then Joe mentioned the fact that he was + half starved. Shefford went with him into another clapboard room, which + was evidently a dining-room. There were half a dozen men at the long + table. The seat at the end was a box, and scarcely large enough or safe + enough for Joe and Shefford, but they risked it. + </p> + <p> + “Saw you in the hall,” said Joe. “Hell—wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Joe, I never knew how much I dared say to you, so I don't talk much. But, + it was hell,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't be so scared of me,” spoke up Joe, testily. + </p> + <p> + That was the first time Shefford had heard the Mormon speak that way. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not scared, Joe. But I like you—respect you. I can't say so + much of—of your people.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you stick out the whole mix?” asked Joe. + </p> + <p> + “No. I had enough when—when they got through with Mary.” Shefford + spoke low and dropped his head. He heard the Mormon grind his teeth. There + was silence for a little space while neither man looked at the other. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon the judge was pretty decent,” presently said Joe. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I thought so. He might have—” But Shefford did not finish that + sentence. “How'd the thing end?” + </p> + <p> + “It ended all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there no conviction—no sentence?” Shefford felt a curious + eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Naw,” he snorted. “That court might have saved its breath.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose. Well, Joe, between you and me, as old friends now, that trial + established one fact, even if it couldn't be proved.... Those women are + sealed wives.” + </p> + <p> + Joe had no reply for that. He looked gloomy, and there was a stern line in + his lips. To-day he seemed more like a Mormon. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Stone knew that as well as I knew,” went on Shefford. “Any man of + penetration could have seen it. What an ordeal that was for good women to + go through! I know they're good. And there they were swearing to—” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't it make me sick?” interrupted Joe in a kind of growl. “Reckon it + made Judge Stone sick, too. After Mary went under he conducted that trial + like a man cuttin' out steers at a round-up. He wanted to get it over. He + never forced any question.... Bad job to ride down Stonebridge way! It's + out of creation. There's only six men in the party, with a poor lot of + horses. Really, government officers or not, they're not safe. And they've + taken a hunch.” + </p> + <p> + “Have they left already?” inquired Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Were packed an hour ago. I didn't see them go, but somebody said they + went. Took the trail for Bluff, which sure is the only trail they could + take, unless they wanted to go to Colorado by way of Kayenta. That might + have been the safest trail.” + </p> + <p> + “Joe, what might happen to them?” asked Shefford, quietly, with eyes on + the Mormon. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, you know that rough trail. Bad on horses. Weathered slopes—slipping + ledges—a rock might fall on you any time. Then Shadd's here with his + gang. And bad Piutes.” + </p> + <p> + “What became of the women?” Shefford asked, 'presently. + </p> + <p> + “They're around among friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are their children?” + </p> + <p> + “Left over there with the old women. Couldn't be fetched over. But there + are some pretty young babies in that bunch—need their mothers.” + </p> + <p> + “I should—think so,” replied Shefford, constrainedly. “When will + their mothers get back to them?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night, maybe, if this mob of cow-punchers and wranglers get out of + town.... It's a bad mix, Shefford, here's a hunch on that. These fellows + will get full of whisky. And trouble might come if they—approach the + women.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean they might get drunk enough to take the oaths of those poor + women—take the meaning literally—pretend to believe the women + what they swore they were?” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you've got the hunch,” replied Joe, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “My God! man, that would be horrible!” exclaimed Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Horrible or not, it's liable to happen. The women can be kept here yet + awhile. Reckon there won't be any trouble here. It'll be over there in the + valley. Shefford, getting the women over there safe is a job that's been + put to me. I've got a bunch of fellows already. Can I count on you? I'm + glad to say you're well thought of. Bishop Kane liked you, and what he + says goes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Joe, you can count on me,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + They finished their meal then and repaired to the big office-room of the + house. Several groups of men were there and loud talk was going on + outside. Shefford saw Withers talking to Bishop Kane and two other + Mormons, both strangers to Shefford. The trader appeared to be speaking + with unwonted force, emphasizing his words with energetic movements of his + hands. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon something's up,” whispered Joe, hoarsely. “It's been in the air + all day.” + </p> + <p> + Withers must have been watching for Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Here's Shefford now,” he said to the trio of Mormons, as Joe and Shefford + reached the group. “I want you to hear him speak for himself.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a hunch and I'll put in my say-so,” said Joe Lake. + </p> + <p> + “Shefford, it's the matter of a good name more than a job,” replied the + trader. “A little while back I told the bishop I meant to put you on the + pack job over to the valley—same as when you first came to me. Well, + the bishop was pleased and said he might put something in your way. Just + now I ran in here to find you—not wanted. When I kicked I got the + straight hunch. Willetts has said things about you. One of them—the + one that sticks in my craw—was that you'd do anything, even pretend + to be inclined toward Mormonism, just to be among those Mormon women over + there. Willetts is your enemy. And he's worse than I thought. Now I want + you to tell Bishop Kane why this missionary is bitter toward you.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I knocked him down,” replied Shefford, simply. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” inquired the bishop, in surprise and curiosity. + </p> + <p> + Shefford related the incident which had occurred at Red Lake and that now + seemed again to come forward fatefully. + </p> + <p> + “You insinuate he had evil intent toward the Indian girl?” queried Kane. + </p> + <p> + “I insinuate nothing. I merely state what led to my acting as I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Principles of religion, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No. A man's principles.” + </p> + <p> + Withers interposed in his blunt way, “Bishop, did you ever see Glen + Naspa?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “She's the prettiest Navajo in the country. Willetts was after her, that's + all.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear man, I can't believe that of a Christian missionary. We've known + Willetts for years. He's a man of influence. He has money back of him. + He's doing a good work. You hint of a love relation.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't hint,” replied Withers, impatiently. “I know. It's not the + first time I've known a missionary to do this sort of thing. Nor is it the + first time for Willetts. Bishop Kane, I live among the Indians. I see a + lot I never speak of. My work is to trade with the Indians, that's all. + But I'll not have Willetts or any other damned hypocrite run down my + friend here. John Shefford is the finest young man that ever came to me in + the desert. And he's got to be put right before you all or I'll not set + foot in Stonebridge again.... Willetts was after Glen Naspa. Shefford + punched him. And later threw him out of the old Indian's hogan up on the + mountain. That explains Willetts's enmity. He was after the girl.” + </p> + <p> + “What's more, gentlemen, he GOT her,” added Shefford. “Glen Naspa has not + been home for six months. I saw her at Blue canyon.... I would like to + face this Willetts before you all.” + </p> + <p> + “Easy enough,” replied Withers, with a grim chuckle. “He's just outside.” + </p> + <p> + The trader went out; Joe Lake followed at his heels and the three Mormons + were next; Shefford brought up the rear and lingered in the door while his + eye swept the crowd of men and Indians. His feeling was in direct contrast + to his movements. He felt the throbbing of fierce anger. But it seemed a + face came between him and his passion—a sweet and tragic face that + would have had power to check him in a vastly more critical moment than + this. And in an instant he had himself in hand, and, strangely, suddenly + felt the strength that had come to him. + </p> + <p> + Willetts stood in earnest colloquy with a short, squat Indian—the + half-breed Shadd. They leaned against a hitching-rail. Other Indians were + there, and outlaws. It was a mixed group, rough and hard-looking. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Willetts!” called the trader, and his loud, ringing voice, not + pleasant, stilled the movement and sound. + </p> + <p> + When Willetts turned, Shefford was half-way across the wide walk. The + missionary not only saw him, but also Nas Ta Bega, who was striding + forward. Joe Lake was ahead of the trader, the Mormons followed with + decision, and they all confronted Willetts. He turned pale. Shadd had + cautiously moved along the rail, nearer to his gang, and then they, with + the others of the curious crowd, drew closer. + </p> + <p> + “Willetts, here's Shefford. Now say it to his face!” declared the trader. + He was angry and evidently wanted the fact known, as well as the + situation. + </p> + <p> + Willetts had paled, but he showed boldness. For an instant Shefford + studied the smooth face, with its sloping lines, the dark, wine-colored + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Willetts, I understand you've maligned me to Bishop Kane and others,” + began Shefford, curtly. + </p> + <p> + “I called you an atheist,” returned the missionary, harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and more than that. And I told these men WHY you vented your spite + on me.” + </p> + <p> + Willetts uttered a half-laugh, an uneasy, contemptuous expression of scorn + and repudiation. + </p> + <p> + “The charges of such a man as you are can't hurt me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The man did not show fear so much as disgust at the meeting. He seemed to + be absorbed in thought, yet no serious consideration of the situation made + itself manifest. Shefford felt puzzled. Perhaps there was no fire to + strike from this man. The desert had certainly not made him flint. He had + not toiled or suffered or fought. + </p> + <p> + “But <i>I</i> can hurt you,” thundered Shefford, with startling + suddenness. “Here! Look at this Indian! Do you know him? Glen Naspa's + brother. Look at him. Let us see you face him while I accuse you.... You + made love to Glen Naspa—took her from her home!” + </p> + <p> + “Harping infidel!” replied Willetts, hoarsely. “So that's your game. Well, + Glen Naspa came to my school of her own accord and she will say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Why will she? Because you blinded the simple Indian girl.... Willetts, + I'll waste little more time on you.” + </p> + <p> + And swift and light as a panther Shefford leaped upon the man and, + fastening powerful hands round the thick neck, bore him to his knees and + bent back his head over the rail. There was a convulsive struggle, a hard + flinging of arms, a straining wrestle, and then Willetts was in a dreadful + position. Shefford held him in iron grasp. + </p> + <p> + “You damned, white-livered hypocrite—I'm liable to kill you!” cried + Shefford. “I watched you and Glen Naspa that day up on the mountain. I saw + you embrace her. I saw that she loved you. Tell THAT, you liar! That'll be + enough.” + </p> + <p> + The face of the missionary turned purple as Shefford forced his head back + over the rail. + </p> + <p> + “I'll kill you, man,” repeated Shefford, piercingly. “Do you want to go to + your God unprepared? Say you made love to Glen Naspa—tell that you + persuaded her to leave her home. Quick!” + </p> + <p> + Willetts raised a shaking hand and then Shefford relaxed the paralyzing + grip and let his head come forward. The half-strangled man gasped out a + few incoherent words that his livid, guilty face made unnecessary. + </p> + <p> + Shefford gave him a shove and he fell into the dust at the feet of the + Navajo. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I leave him to Nas Ta Bega,” said Shefford, with a strange + change from passion to calmness. + </p> + <p> + Late that night, when the roystering visitors had gone or were deep in + drunken slumber, a melancholy and strange procession filed out of + Stonebridge. Joe Lake and his armed comrades were escorting the Mormon + women back to the hidden valley. They were mounted on burros and mustangs, + and in all that dark and somber line there was only one figure which shone + white under the pale moon. + </p> + <p> + At the starting, until that white-clad figure had appeared, Shefford's + heart had seemed to be in his throat; and thereafter its beat was muffled + and painful in his breast. Yet there was some sad sweetness in the + knowledge that he could see her now, be near her, watch over her. + </p> + <p> + By and by the overcast clouds drifted and the moon shone bright. The night + was still; the great dark mountain loomed to the stars; the numberless + waves of rounded rock that must be crossed and circled lay deep in shadow. + There was only a steady pattering of light hoofs. + </p> + <p> + Shefford's place was near the end of the line, and he kept well back, + riding close to one woman and then another. No word was spoken. These + sealed wives rode where their mounts were led or driven, as blind in their + hoods as veiled Arab women in palanquins. And their heads drooped wearily + and their shoulders bent, as if under a burden. It took an hour of steady + riding to reach the ascent to the plateau, and here, with the beginning of + rough and smooth and shadowed trail, the work of the escort began. The + line lengthened out and each man kept to the several women assigned to + him. Shefford had three, and one of them was the girl he loved. She rode + as if the world and time and life were naught to her. As soon as he dared + trust his voice and his control he meant to let her know the man whom + perhaps she had not forgotten was there with her, a friend. Six months! It + had been a lifetime to him. Surely eternity to her! Had she forgotten? He + felt like a coward who had basely deserted her. Oh—had he only + known! + </p> + <p> + She rode a burro that was slow, continually blocking the passage for those + behind, and eventually it became lame. Thus the other women forged ahead. + Shefford dismounted and stopped her burro. It was a moment before she + noted the halt, and twice in that time Shefford tried to speak and failed. + What poignant pain, regret, love made his utterance fail! + </p> + <p> + “Ride my horse,” he finally said, and his voice was not like his own. + </p> + <p> + Obediently and wearily she dismounted from the burro and got up on + Nack-yal. The stirrups were long for her and he had to change them. His + fingers were all thumbs as he fumbled with the buckles. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he became aware that there had been a subtle change in her. He + knew it without looking up and he seemed to be unable to go on with his + task. If his life had depended upon keeping his head lowered he could not + have done it. The listlessness of her drooping form was no longer + manifest. The peak of the dark hood pointed toward him. He knew then that + she was gazing at him. + </p> + <p> + Never so long as he lived would that moment be forgotten! They were alone. + The others had gotten so far ahead that no sound came back. The stillness + was so deep it could be felt. The moon shone with white, cold radiance and + the shining slopes of smooth stone waved away, crossed by shadows of + pinyons. + </p> + <p> + Then she leaned a little toward him. One swift hand flew up to tear the + black hood back so that she could see. In its place flashed her white + face. And her eyes were like the night. + </p> + <p> + “YOU!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + His blood came leaping to sting neck and cheek and temple. What dared he + interpret from that single word? Could any other word have meant so much? + </p> + <p> + “No—one—else,” he replied, unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + Her white hand flashed again to him, and he met it with his own. He felt + himself standing cold and motionless in the moonlight. He saw her, + wonderful, with the deep, shadowy eyes, and a silver sheen on her hair. + And as he looked she released her hand and lifted it, with the other, to + her hood. He saw the shiny hair darken and disappear—and then the + lovely face with its sad eyes and tragic lips. + </p> + <p> + He drew Nack-yal's bridle forward, and led him up the moonlit trail. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. THE REVELATION + </h2> + <p> + The following afternoon cowboys and horse-wranglers, keen-eyed as Indians + for tracks and trails, began to arrive in the quiet valley to which the + Mormon women had been returned. + </p> + <p> + Under every cedar clump there were hobbled horses, packs, and rolled + bedding in tarpaulins. Shefford and Joe Lake had pitched camp in the old + site near the spring. The other men of Joe's escort went to the homes of + the women; and that afternoon, as the curious visitors began to arrive, + these homes became barred and dark and quiet, as if they had been closed + and deserted for the winter. Not a woman showed herself. + </p> + <p> + Shefford and Joe, by reason of the location of their camp and their + alertness, met all the new-comers. The ride from Stonebridge was a long + and hard one, calculated to wear off the effects of the whisky imbibed by + the adventure-seekers. This fact alone saved the situation. Nevertheless, + Joe expected trouble. Most of the visitors were decent, good-natured + fellows, merely curious, and simple enough to believe that this really was + what the Mormons had claimed—a village of free women. But there were + those among them who were coarse, evil-minded, and dangerous. + </p> + <p> + By supper-time there were two dozen or more of these men in the valley, + camped along the west wall. Fires were lighted, smoke curled up over the + cedars, gay songs disturbed the usual serenity of the place. Later in the + early twilight the curious visitors, by twos and threes, walked about the + village, peering at the dark cabins and jesting among themselves. Joe had + informed Shefford that all the women had been put in a limited number of + cabins, so that they could be protected. So far as Shefford saw or heard + there was no unpleasant incident in the village; however, as the + sauntering visitors returned toward their camps they loitered at the + spring, and here developments threatened. + </p> + <p> + In spite of the fact that the majority of these cowboys and their comrades + were decent-minded and beginning to see the real relation of things, they + were not disposed to be civil to Shefford. They were certainly not + Mormons. And his position, apparently as a Gentile, among these Mormons + was one open to criticism. They might have been jealous, too; at any rate, + remarks were passed in his hearing, meant for his ears, that made it + exceedingly trying for him not to resent. Moreover, Joe Lake's increasing + impatience rendered the situation more difficult. Shefford welcomed the + arrival of Nas Ta Bega. The Indian listened to the loud talk of several + loungers round the camp-fire; and thereafter he was like Shefford's + shadow, silent, somber, watchful. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, it did not happen to be one of the friendly and sarcastic + cowboys that precipitated the crisis. A horse-wrangler named Hurley, a man + of bad repute, as much outlaw as anything, took up the bantering. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Shefford, what in the hell's your job here, anyway?” he queried as + he kicked a cedar branch into the camp-fire. The brightening blaze showed + him swarthy, unshaven, a large-featured, ugly man. + </p> + <p> + “I've been doing odd jobs for Withers,” replied Shefford. “Expect to drive + pack-trains in here for a while.” + </p> + <p> + “You must stand strong with these Mormons. Must be a Mormon yerself?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Shefford, briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I'm stuck on your job. Do you need a packer? I can throw a + diamond-hitch better 'n any feller in this country.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't need help.” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe you'll take me over to see the ladies,” he went on, with a coarse + laugh. + </p> + <p> + Shefford did not show that he had heard. Hurley waited, leering as looked + from the keen listeners to Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Want to have them all yerself, eh?” he jeered. + </p> + <p> + Shefford struck him—sent him tumbling heavily, like a log. Hurley, + cursing as he half rose, jerked his gun out. Nas Ta Bega, swift as light, + kicked the gun out of his hand. And Joe Lake picked it up. + </p> + <p> + Deliberately the Mormon cocked the weapon and stood over Hurley. + </p> + <p> + “Get up!” he ordered, and Shefford heard the ruthless Mormon in him then. + </p> + <p> + Hurley rose slowly. Then Joe prodded him in the middle with the cocked + gun. Shefford startled, expected the gun to go off. So did the others, + especially Hurley, who shrank in panic from the dark Mormon. + </p> + <p> + “Rustle!” said Joe, and gave the man a harder prod. Assuredly the gun did + not have a hair-trigger. + </p> + <p> + “Joe, mebbe it's loaded!” protested one of the cowboys. + </p> + <p> + Hurley shrank back, and turned to hurry away, with Joe close after him. + They disappeared in the darkness. A constrained silence was maintained + around the camp-fire for a while. Presently some of the men walked off and + others began to converse. Everybody heard the sound of hoofs passing down + the trail. The patter ceased, and in a few moments Lake returned. He still + carried Hurley's gun. + </p> + <p> + The crowd dispersed then. There was no indication of further trouble. + However, Shefford and Joe and Nas Ta Bega divided the night in watches, so + that some one would be wide awake. + </p> + <p> + Early next morning there was an exodus from the village of the better + element among the visitors. “No fun hangin' round hyar,” one of them + expressed it, and as good-naturedly as they had come they rode away. Six + or seven of the desperado class remained behind, bent on mischief; and + they were reinforced by more arrivals from Stonebridge. They avoided the + camp by the spring, and when Shefford and Lake attempted to go to them + they gave them a wide berth. This caused Joe to assert that they were up + to some dirty work. All morning they lounged around under the cedars, + keeping out of sight, and evidently the reinforcement from Stonebridge had + brought liquor. When they gathered together at their camp, half drunk, all + noisy, some wanting to swagger off into the village and others trying to + hold them back, Joe Lake said, grimly, that somebody was going to get + shot. Indeed, Shefford saw that there was every likelihood of bloodshed. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon we'd better take to one of the cabins,” said Joe. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the three repaired to the nearest cabin, and, entering, kept + watch from the windows. During a couple of hours, however, they did not + see or hear anything of the ruffians. Then came a shot from over in the + village, a single yell, and, after that, a scattering volley. The silence + and suspense which followed were finally broken by hoof-beats. Nas Ta Bega + called Joe and Shefford to the window he had been stationed at. From here + they saw the unwelcome visitors ride down the trail, to disappear in the + cedars toward the outlet of the valley. Joe, who had numbered them, said + that all but one of them had gone. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon he got it,” added Joe. + </p> + <p> + So indeed it turned out; one of the men, a well-known rustler named + Harker, had been killed, by whom no one seemed to know. He had brazenly + tried to force his way into one of the houses, and the act had cost him + his life. Naturally Shefford, never free from his civilized habit of + thought, remarked apprehensively that he hoped this affair would not cause + the poor women to be arrested again and haled before some rude court. + </p> + <p> + “Law!” grunted Joe. “There ain't any. The nearest sheriff is in Durango. + That's Colorado. And he'd give us a medal for killing Harker. It was a + good job, for it'll teach these rowdies a lesson.” + </p> + <p> + Next day the old order of life was resumed in the village. And the arrival + of a heavily laden pack-train, under the guidance of Withers, attested to + the fact that the Mormons meant not only to continue to live in the + valley, but also to build and plant and enlarge. This was good news to + Shefford. At least the village could be made less lonely. And there was + plenty of work to give him excuse for staying there. Furthermore, Withers + brought a message form Bishop Kane to the effect that the young man was + offered a place as teacher in the school, in co-operation with the Mormon + teachers. Shefford experienced no twinge of conscience when he accepted. + </p> + <p> + It was the fourth evening after the never-to-be-forgotten moonlight ride + to the valley that Shefford passed under the dark pinon-trees on his way + to Fay Larkin's cottage. He paused in the gloom and memory beset him. The + six months were annihilated, and it was the night he had fled. But now all + was silent. He seemed to be trying to drag himself back. A beginning must + be made. Only how to meet her—what to say—what to conceal! + </p> + <p> + He tapped on the door and she came out. After all, it was a meeting vastly + different from what his feeling made him imagine it might have been. She + was nervous, frightened, as were all the other women, for that matter. She + was alone in the cottage. He made haste to reassure her about the + improbability of any further trouble such as had befallen the last week. + As he had always done on those former visits to her, he talked rapidly, + using all his wit, and here his emotion made him eloquent; he avoided + personalities, except to tell about his prospects of work in the village, + and he sought above all to lead her mind from thought of herself and her + condition. Before he left her he had the gladness of knowing he had + succeeded. + </p> + <p> + When he said good night he felt the strange falsity of his position. He + did not expect to be able to keep up the deception for long. That roused + him, and half the night he lay awake, thinking. Next day he was the life + of the work and study and play in that village. Kindness and good-will did + not need inspiration, but it was keen, deep passion that made him a + plotter for influence and friendship. Was there a woman in the village + whom he might trust, in case he needed one? And his instinct guided him to + her whom he had liked well—Ruth. Ruth Jones she had called herself + at the trial, and when Shefford used the name she laughed mockingly. Ruth + was not very religious, and sometimes she was bitter and hard. She wanted + life, and here she was a prisoner in a lonely valley. She welcomed + Shefford's visits. He imagined that she had slightly changed, and whether + it was the added six months with its trouble and pain or a growing revolt + he could not tell. After a time he divined that the inevitable + retrogression had set in: she had not enough faith to uphold the burden + she had accepted, nor the courage to cast it off. She was ready to love + him. That did not frighten Shefford, and if she did love him he was not so + sure it would not be an anchor for her. He saw her danger, and then he + became what he had never really been in all the days of his ministry—the + real helper. Unselfishly, for her sake, he found power to influence her; + and selfishly, for the sake of Fay Larkin, he began slowly to win her to a + possible need. + </p> + <p> + The days passed swiftly. Mormons came and went, though in the open day, as + laborers; new cabins went up, and a store, and other improvements. Some + part of every evening Shefford spent with Fay, and these visits were no + longer unknown to the village. Women gossiped, in a friendly way about + Shefford, but with jealous tongues about the girl. Joe Lake told Shefford + the run of the village talk. Anything concerning the Sago Lily the droll + Mormon took to heart. He had been hard hit, and admitted it. Sometimes he + went with Shefford to call upon her, but he talked little and never + remained long. Shefford had anticipated antagonism on the part of Joe; + however, he did not find it. + </p> + <p> + Shefford really lived through the busy day for that hour with Fay in the + twilight. And every evening seemed the same. He would find her in the + dark, alone, silent, brooding, hopeless. Her mood did not puzzle him, but + how to keep from plunging her deeper into despair baffled him. He + exhausted all his powers trying to do for her what he had been able to do + for Ruth. Yet he failed. Something had blunted her. The shadow of that + baneful trial hovered over her, and he came to sense a strange terror in + her. It was mostly always present. Was she thinking of Jane Withersteen + and Lassiter, left dead or imprisoned in the valley from which she had + been brought so mysteriously? Shefford wearied his brain revolving these + questions. The fate of her friends, and the cross she bore—of these + was tragedy born, but the terror—that Shefford divined came of + waiting for the visit of the Mormon whose face she had never seen. + Shefford prayed that he might never meet this man. Finally he grew + desperate. When he first arrived at the girl's home she would speak, she + showed gladness, relief, and then straightway she dropped back into the + shadow of her gloom. When he got up to go then there was a wistfulness, an + unspoken need, an unconscious reliance, in her reluctant good night. + </p> + <p> + Then the hour came when he reached his limit. He must begin his + revelation. + </p> + <p> + “You never ask me anything—let alone about myself,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to hear,” she replied, timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Do I strike you as an unhappy man?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, how DO I strike you?” + </p> + <p> + This was an entirely new tack he had veered to. + </p> + <p> + “Very good and kind to us women,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that. If I am so, it doesn't bring me happiness. ... + Do you remember what I told you once, about my being a preacher—disgrace, + ruin, and all that—and my rainbow-chasing dream out here after a—a + lost girl?” + </p> + <p> + “I—remember all—you said,” she replied, very low. + </p> + <p> + “Listen.” His voice was a little husky, but behind it there seemed a tide + of resistless utterance. “Loss of faith and name did not send me to this + wilderness. But I had love—love for that lost girl, Fay Larkin. I + dreamed about her till I loved her. I dreamed that I would find her—my + treasure—at the foot of a rainbow. Dreams!... When you told me she + was dead I accepted that. There was truth in your voice. I respected your + reticence. But something died in me then. I lost myself, the best of me, + the good that might have uplifted me. I went away, down upon the barren + desert, and there I rode and slept and grew into another and a harder man. + Yet, strange to say, I never forgot her, though my dreams were done. As I + toiled and suffered and changed I loved her—if not her, the thought + of her—more and more. Now I have come back to these walled valleys—to + the smell of pinon, to the flowers in the nooks, to the wind on the + heights, to the silence and loneliness and beauty. And here the dreams + come back and SHE is WITH me always. Her spirit is all that keeps me kind + and good, as you say I am. But I suffer, I long for her alive. If I love + her dead, how could I love her living! Always I torture myself with the + vain dream that—that she MIGHT not be dead. I have never been + anything but a dreamer. And here I go about my work by day and lie awake + at night with that lost girl in my mind.... I love her. Does that seem + strange to you? But it would not if you understood. Think. I had lost + faith, hope. I set myself a great work—to find Fay Larkin. And by + the fire and the iron and the blood that I felt it would cost to save her + some faith must come to me again.... My work is undone—I've never + saved her. But listen, how strange it is to feel—now—as I let + myself go—that just the loving her and the living here in the + wildness that holds her somewhere have brought me hope again. Some faith + must come, too. It was through her that I met this Indian, Nas Ta Bega. He + has saved my life—taught me much. What would I ever have learned of + the naked and vast earth, of the sublimity of the wild uplands, of the + storm and night and sun, if I had not followed a gleam she inspired? In my + hunt for a lost girl perhaps I wandered into a place where I shall find a + God and my salvation. Do you marvel that I love Fay Larkin—that she + is not dead to me? Do you marvel that I love her, when I KNOW, were she + alive, chained in a canyon, or bound, or lost in any way, my destiny would + lead me to her, and she should be saved?” + </p> + <p> + Shefford ended, overcome with emotion. In the dusk he could not see the + girl's face, but the white form that had drooped so listlessly seemed now + charged by some vitalizing current. He knew he had spoken irrationally; + still he held it no dishonor to have told her he loved her as one dead. If + she took that love to the secret heart of living Fay Larkin, then perhaps + a spirit might light in her darkened soul. He had no thought yet that Fay + Larkin might ever belong to him. He divined a crime—he had seen her + agony. And this avowal of his was only one step toward her deliverance. + </p> + <p> + Softly she rose, retreating into the shadow. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me if I—I disturb you, distress you,” he said. “I wanted to + tell you. She was—somehow known to you. I am not happy. And are YOU + happy?... Let her memory be a bond between us.... Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + Faintly as the faintest whisper breathed her reply, and, though it came + from a child forced into womanhood, it whispered of girlhood not dead, of + sweet incredulity, of amazed tumult, of a wondering, frantic desire to run + and hide, of the bewilderment incident to a first hint of love. + </p> + <p> + Shefford walked away into the darkness. The whisper filled his soul. Had a + word of love ever been spoken to that girl? Never—not the love which + had been on his lips. Fay Larkin's lonely life spoke clearly in her + whisper. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Next morning as the sun gilded the looming peaks and shafts of gold + slanted into the valley she came swiftly down the path to the spring. + </p> + <p> + Shefford paused in his task of chopping wood. Joe Lake, on his knees, with + his big hands in a pan of dough, lifted his head to stare. She had left + off the somber black hood, and, although that made a vast difference in + her, still it was not enough to account for what struck both men. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning,” she called, brightly. + </p> + <p> + They both answered, but not spontaneously. She stopped at the spring and + with one sweep of her strong arm filled the bucket and lifted it. Then she + started back down the path and, pausing opposite the camp, set the bucket + down. + </p> + <p> + “Joe, do you still pride yourself on your sour dough?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I do,” replied Joe, with a grin. + </p> + <p> + “I've heard your boasts, but never tasted your bread,” she went on. + </p> + <p> + “I'll ask you to eat with us some day.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't forget,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + And then shyly she looked at Shefford. She was like the fresh dawn, and + the gold of the sun shone on her head. + </p> + <p> + “Have you chopped all that wood—so early?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” replied Shefford, laughing. “I have to get up early to keep Joe + from doing all the camp chores.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, and then to Shefford she seemed to gleam, to be radiant. + </p> + <p> + “It'd be a lovely morning to climb—'way high.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—yes—it would,” replied Shefford, awkwardly. “I wish I + didn't have my work.” + </p> + <p> + “Joe, will YOU climb with me some day?” + </p> + <p> + “I should smile I will,” declared Joe. + </p> + <p> + “But I can run right up the walls.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon. Mary, it wouldn't surprise me to see you fly.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean I'm like a canyon swallow or an angel?” + </p> + <p> + Then, as Joe stared speechlessly, she said good-by and, taking up the + bucket, went on with her swift, graceful step. + </p> + <p> + “She's perked up,” said the Mormon, staring after her. “Never heard her + say more 'n yes or no till now.” + </p> + <p> + “She did seem—bright,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + He was stunned. What had happened to her? To-day this girl had not been + Mary, the sealed wife, or the Sago Lily, alien among Mormon women. Then it + flashed upon him—she was Fay Larkin. She who had regarded herself as + dead had come back to life. In one short night what had transformed her—what + had taken place in her heart? Shefford dared not accept, nor allow + lodgment in his mind, a thrilling idea that he had made her forget her + misery. + </p> + <p> + “Shefford, did you ever see her like that?” asked Joe. + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you—something to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I have. I—I hope so.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you've seen how she's faded—since the trial?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Shefford, swiftly. “But I've not seen her face in daylight + since then.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, take my hunch,” said Joe, soberly. “She's begun to fade like the + canyon lily when it's broken. And she's going to die unless—” + </p> + <p> + “Why man!” ejaculated Shefford. “Didn't you see—” + </p> + <p> + “Sure I see,” interrupted the Mormon. “I see a lot you don't. She's so + white you can look through her. She's grown thin, all in a week. She + doesn't eat. Oh, I know, because I've made it my business to find out. + It's no news to the women. But they'd like to see her die. And she will + die unless—” + </p> + <p> + “My God!” exclaimed Shefford, huskily. “I never noticed—I never + thought.... Joe, hasn't she any friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. You and Ruth—and me. Maybe Nas Ta Bega, too. He watches her a + good deal.” + </p> + <p> + “We can do so little, when she needs so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody can help her, unless it's you,” went on the Mormon. “That's plain + talk. She seemed different this morning. Why, she was alive—she + talked—she smiled.... Shefford, if you cheer her up I'll go to hell + for you!” + </p> + <p> + The big Mormon, on his knees, with his hands in a pan of dough, and his + shirt all covered with flour, presented an incongruous figure of a man + actuated by pathos and passion. Yet the contrast made his emotion all the + simpler and stronger. Shefford grew closer to Joe in that moment. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think <i>I</i> can cheer her, help her?” queried Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. But she's different with you. It's not that you're a + Gentile, though, for all the women are crazy about you. You talk to her. + You have power over her, Shefford. I feel that. She's only a kid.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is she, Joe? Where did she come from?” asked Shefford, very low, with + his eyes cast down. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I can't find out. Nobody knows. It's a mystery—to all + the younger Mormons, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford burned to ask questions about the Mormon whose sealed wife the + girl was, but he respected Joe too much to take advantage of him in a + poignant moment like this. Besides, it was only jealousy that made him + burn to know the Mormon's identity, and jealousy had become a creeping, + insidious, growing fire. He would be wise not to add fuel to it. He + rejected many things before he thought of one that he could voice to his + friend. + </p> + <p> + “Joe, it's only her body that belongs to—to.... Her soul is lost to—” + </p> + <p> + “John Shefford, let that go. My mind's tired. I've been taught so and so, + and I'm not bright.... But, after all, men are much alike. The thing with + you and me is this—we don't want to see HER grave!” + </p> + <p> + Love spoke there. The Mormon had seized upon the single elemental point + that concerned him and his friend in their relation to this unfortunate + girl. His simple, powerful statement united them; it gave the lie to his + hint of denseness; it stripped the truth naked. It was such a wonderful + thought-provoking statement that Shefford needed time to ponder how deep + the Mormon was. To what limit would he go? Did he mean that here, between + two men who loved the same girl, class, duty, honor, creed were nothing if + they stood in the way of her deliverance and her life? + </p> + <p> + “Joe Lake, you Mormons are impossible,” said Shefford, deliberately. “You + don't want to see her grave. So long as she lives—remains on the + earth—white and gold like the flower you call her, that's enough for + you. It's her body you think of. And that's the great and horrible error + in your religion.... But death of the soul is infinitely worse than death + of the body. I have been thinking of her soul.... So here we stand, you + and I. You to save her life—I to save her soul! What will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, John, I'd turn Gentile,” he said, with terrible softness. It was a + softness that scorned Shefford for asking, and likewise it flung defiance + at his creed and into the face of hell. + </p> + <p> + Shefford felt the sting and the exaltation. + </p> + <p> + “And I'd be a Mormon,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “All right. We understand each other. Reckon there won't be any call for + such extremes. I haven't an idea what you mean—what can be done. But + I say, go slow, so we won't all find graves. First cheer her up somehow. + Make her want to live. But go slow, John. AND DON'T BE WITH HER LATE!” + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + That night Shefford found her waiting for him in the moonlight—a + girl who was as transparent as crystal-clear water, who had left off the + somber gloom with the black hood, who tremulously embraced happiness + without knowing it, who was one moment timid and wild like a + half-frightened fawn, and the next, exquisitely half-conscious of what it + meant to be thought dead, but to be alive, to be awakening, wondering, + palpitating, and to be loved. + </p> + <p> + Shefford lived the hour as a dream and went back to the quiet darkness + under the cedars to lie wide-eyed, trying to recall all that she had said. + For she had talked as if utterance had long been dammed behind a barrier + of silence. + </p> + <p> + There followed other hours like that one, indescribable hours, so sweet + they stung, and in which, keeping pace with his love, was the nobler + stride of a spirit that more every day lightened her burden. + </p> + <p> + The thing he had to do, sooner or later, was to tell her he knew she was + Fay Larkin, not dead, but alive, and that, not love nor religion, but + sacrifice, nailed her down to her martyrdom. Many and many a time he had + tried to force himself to tell her, only to fail. He hated to risk ending + this sweet, strange, thoughtless, girlish mood of hers. It might not be + soon won back—perhaps never. How could he tell what chains bound + her? And so as he vacillated between Joe's cautious advice to go slow and + his own pity the days and weeks slipped by. + </p> + <p> + One haunting fear kept him sleepless half the nights and sick even in his + dreams, and it was that the Mormon whose sealed wife she was might come, + surely would come, some night. Shefford could bear it. But what would that + visit do to Fay Larkin? Shefford instinctively feared the awakening in the + girl of womanhood, of deeper insight, of a spiritual realization of what + she was, of a physical dawn. + </p> + <p> + He might have spared himself needless torture. One day Joe Lake eyed him + with penetrating glance. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you don't have to sleep right on that Stonebridge trail,” said the + Mormon, significantly. + </p> + <p> + Shefford felt the blood burn his neck and face. He had pulled his + tarpaulin closer to the trail, and his motive was as an open page to the + keen Mormon. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “There won't be any Mormons riding in here soon—by night—to + visit the women,” replied Joe, bluntly. “Haven't you figured there might + be government spies watching the trails?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, take a hunch, then,” added the Mormon, gruffly, and Shefford + divined, as well as if he had been told, that warning word had gone to + Stonebridge. Gone despite the fact that Nas Ta Bega had reported every + trail free of watchers! There was no sign of any spies, cowboys, outlaws, + or Indians in the vicinity of the valley. A passionate gratitude to the + Mormon overcame Shefford; and the unreasonableness of it, the nature of + it, perturbed him greatly. But, something hammered into his brain, if he + loved one of these sealed wives, how could he help being jealous? + </p> + <p> + The result of Joe's hint was that Shefford put off the hour of revelation, + lived in his dream, helped the girl grow farther and farther away from her + trouble, until that inevitable hour arrived when he was driven by + accumulated emotion as much as the exigency of the case. + </p> + <p> + He had not often walked with her beyond the dark shade of the pinyons + round the cottage, but this night, when he knew he must tell her, he led + her away down the path, through the cedar grove to the west end of the + valley where it was wild and lonely and sad and silent. + </p> + <p> + The moon was full and the great peaks were crowned as with snow. A coyote + uttered his cutting cry. There were a few melancholy notes from a night + bird of the stone walls. The air was clear and cold, with a tang of frost + in it. Shefford gazed about him at the vast, uplifted, insulating walls, + and that feeling of his which was more than a sense told him how walls + like these and the silence and shadow and mystery had been nearly all of + Fay Larkin's life. He felt them all in her. + </p> + <p> + He stopped out in the open, near the line where dark shadow of the wall + met the silver moonlight on the grass, and here, by a huge flat stone + where he had come often alone and sometimes with Ruth, he faced Fay Larkin + in the spirit to tell her gently that he knew her, and sternly to force + her secret from her. + </p> + <p> + “Am I your friend?” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!—my only friend,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Do you trust me, believe I mean well by you, want to help you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, let me speak of you. You know one topic we've never touched + upon. You!” + </p> + <p> + She was silent, and looked wonderingly, a little fearfully, at him, as if + vague, disturbing thoughts were entering the fringe of her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Our friendship is a strange one, is it not?” he went on. + </p> + <p> + “How do I know? I never had any other friendship. What do you mean by + strange?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm a young man. You're a—a married woman. We are together a + good deal—and like to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is that strange?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Shefford realized that there was nothing strange in what was + natural. A remnant of sophistication clung to him and that had spoken. He + needed to speak to her in a way which in her simplicity she would + understand. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind strange. Say that I am interested in you, and, as you're not + happy, I want to help you. And say that your neighbors are curious and + oppose my idea. Why do they?” + </p> + <p> + “They're jealous and want you themselves,” she replied, with sweet + directness. “They've said things I don't understand. But I felt they—they + hated in me what would be all right in themselves.” + </p> + <p> + Here to simplicity she added truth and wisdom, as an Indian might have + expressed them. But shame was unknown to her, and she had as yet only + vague perceptions of love and passion. Shefford began to realize the + quickness of her mind, that she was indeed awakening. + </p> + <p> + “They are jealous—were jealous before I ever came here. That's only + human nature. I was trying to get to a point. Your neighbors are curious. + They oppose me. They hate you. It's all bound up in the—the fact of + your difference from them, your youth, beauty, that you're not a Mormon, + that you nearly betrayed their secret at the trial in Stonebridge.” + </p> + <p> + “Please—please don't—speak of that!” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “But I must,” he replied, swiftly. “That trial was a torture to you. It + revealed so much to me.... I know you are a sealed wife. I know there has + been a crime. I know you've sacrificed yourself. I know that love and + religion have nothing to do with—what you are.... Now, is not all + that true?” + </p> + <p> + “I must not tell,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “But I shall MAKE you tell,” he replied, and his voice rang. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, you cannot,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I can—with just one word!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were great, starry, shadowy gulfs, dark in the white beauty of + her face. She was calm now. She had strength. She invited him to speak the + word, and the wistful, tremulous quiver of her lips was for his earnest + thought of her. + </p> + <p> + “Wait—a—little,” said Shefford, unsteadily. “I'll come to that + presently. Tell me this—have you ever thought of being free?” + </p> + <p> + “Free!” she echoed, and there was singular depth and richness in her + voice. That was the first spark of fire he had struck from her. “Long ago, + the minute I was unwatched, I'd have leaped from a wall had I dared. Oh, I + wasn't afraid. I'd love to die that way. But I never dared.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” queried Shefford, piercingly. + </p> + <p> + She was silent then. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I offered to give you freedom that meant life?” + </p> + <p> + “I—couldn't—take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my friend, don't ask me any more.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I can see—you want to tell me—you need to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “But I daren't.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you trust me?” + </p> + <p> + “I do—I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Then tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “No—no—oh no!” + </p> + <p> + The moment had come. How sad, tragic, yet glorious for him! It would be + like a magic touch upon this lovely, cold, white ghost of Fay Larkin, + transforming her into a living, breathing girl. He held his love as a + thing aloof, and, as such, intangible because of the living death she + believed she lived, it had no warmth and intimacy for them. What might it + not become with a lightning flash of revelation? He dreaded, yet he was + driven to speak. He waited, swallowing hard, fighting the tumultuous storm + of emotion, and his eyes dimmed. + </p> + <p> + “What did I come to this country for?” he asked, suddenly, in ringing, + powerful voice. + </p> + <p> + “To find a girl,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I've found her!” + </p> + <p> + She began to shake. He saw a white hand go to her breast. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Surprise Valley?... How were you taken from Jane Withersteen and + Lassiter?... I know they're alive. But where?” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to turn to stone. + </p> + <p> + “Fay!—FAY LARKIN!... I KNOW YOU!” he cried, brokenly. + </p> + <p> + She slipped off the stone to her knees, swayed forward blindly with her + hands reaching out, her head falling back to let the moon fall full upon + the beautiful, snow-white, tragically convulsed face. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. THE STORY OF SURPRISE VALLEY + </h2> + <p> + “... Oh, I remember so well! Even now I dream of it sometimes. I hear the + roll and crash of falling rock—like thunder.... We rode and rode. + Then the horses fell. Uncle Jim took me in his arms and started up the + cliff. Mother Jane climbed close after us. They kept looking back. Down + there in the gray valley came the Mormons. I see the first one now. He + rode a white horse. That was Tull. Oh, I remember so well! And I was five + or six years old. + </p> + <p> + “We climbed up and up and into dark canyon and wound in and out. Then + there was the narrow white trail, straight up, with the little cut steps + and the great, red, ruined walls. I looked down over Uncle Jim's shoulder. + I saw Mother Jane dragging herself up. Uncle Jim's blood spotted the + trail. He reached a flat place at the top and fell with me. Mother Jane + crawled up to us. + </p> + <p> + “Then she cried out and pointed. Tull was 'way below, climbing the trail. + His men came behind him. Uncle Jim went to a great, tall rock and leaned + against it. There was a bloody hole in his hand. He pushed the rock. It + rolled down, banging the loose walls. They crashed and crashed—then + all was terrible thunder and red smoke. I couldn't hear—I couldn't + see. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Jim carried me down and down out of the dark and dust into a + beautiful valley all red and gold, with a wonderful arch of stone over the + entrance. + </p> + <p> + “I don't remember well what happened then for what seemed a long, long + time. I can feel how the place looked, but not so clear as it is now in my + dreams. I seem to see myself with the dogs, and with Mother Jane, learning + my letters, marking with red stone on the walls. + </p> + <p> + “But I remember now how I felt when I first understood we were shut in for + ever. Shut in Surprise Valley where Venters had lived so long. I was glad. + The Mormons would never get me. I was seven or eight years old then. From + that time all is clear in my mind. + </p> + <p> + “Venters had left supplies and tools and grain and cattle and burros, so + we had a good start to begin life there. He had killed off the wildcats + and kept the coyotes out, so the rabbits and quail multiplied till there + were thousands of them. We raised corn and fruit, and stored what we + didn't use. Mother Jane taught me to read and write with the soft red + stone that marked well on the walls. + </p> + <p> + “The years passed. We kept track of time pretty well. Uncle Jim's hair + turned white and Mother Jane grew gray. Every day was like the one before. + Mother Jane cried sometimes and Uncle Jim was sad because they could never + be able to get me out of the valley. It was long before they stopped + looking and listening for some one. Venters would come back, Uncle Jim + always said. But Mother Jane did not think so. + </p> + <p> + “I loved Surprise Valley. I wanted to stay there always. I remembered + Cottonwoods, how the children there hated me, and I didn't want to go + back. The only unhappy times I ever had in the valley were when Ring and + Whitie, my dogs, grew old and died. I roamed the valley. I climbed to + every nook upon the mossy ledges. I learned to run up the steep cliffs. I + could almost stick on the straight walls. Mother Jane called me a wild + girl. We had put away the clothes we wore when we got there, to save them, + and we made clothes of skins. I always laughed when I thought of my little + dress—how I grew out of it. I think Uncle Jim and Mother Jane talked + less as the years went by. And after I'd learned all she could teach me we + didn't talk much. I used to scream into the caves just to hear my voice, + and the echoes would frighten me. + </p> + <p> + “The older I grew the more I was alone. I was always running round the + valley. I would climb to a high place and sit there for hours, doing + nothing. I just watched and listened. I used to stay in the + cliff-dwellers' caves and wonder about them. I loved to be out in the + wind. And my happiest time was in the summer storms with the thunder + echoes under the walls. At evening it was such a quiet place—after + the night bird's cry, no sound. The quiet made me sad but I loved it. I + loved to watch the stars as I lay awake. + </p> + <p> + “So it was beautiful and happy for me there till—till... + </p> + <p> + “Two years or more ago there was a bad storm, and one of the great walls + caved. The walls were always weathering, slipping. Many and many a time + have I heard the rumble of an avalanche, but most of them were in other + canyon. This slide in the valley made it possible, Uncle Jim said, for men + to get down into the valley. But we could not climb out unless helped from + above. Uncle Jim never rested well after that. But it never worried me. + </p> + <p> + “One day, over a year ago, while I was across the valley, I heard strange + shouts, and then screams. I ran to our camp. I came upon men with ropes + and guns. Uncle Jim was tied, and a rope was round his neck. Mother Jane + was lying on the ground. I thought she was dead until I heard her moan. I + was not afraid. I screamed and flew at Uncle Jim to tear the ropes off + him. The men held me back. They called me a pretty cat. Then they talked + together, and some were for hanging Lassiter—that was the first time + I ever knew any name for him but Uncle Jim—and some were for leaving + him in the valley. Finally they decided to hang him. But Mother Jane + pleaded so and I screamed and fought so that they left off. Then they went + away and we saw them climb out of the valley. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Jim said they were Mormons, and some among them had been born in + Cottonwoods. I was not told why they had such a terrible hate for him. He + said they would come back and kill him. Uncle Jim had no guns to fight + with. + </p> + <p> + “We watched and watched. In five days they did come back, with more men, + and some of them wore black masks. They came to our cave with ropes and + guns. One was tall. He had a cruel voice. The others ran to obey him. I + could see white hair and sharp eyes behind the mask. The men caught me and + brought me before him. + </p> + <p> + “He said Lassiter had killed many Mormons. He said Lassiter had killed his + father and should be hanged. But Lassiter would be let live and Mother + Jane could stay with him, both prisoners there in the valley, if I would + marry the Mormon. I must marry him, accept the Mormon faith, and bring up + my children as Mormons. If I refused they would hang Lassiter, leave the + heretic Jane Withersteen alone in the valley, and take me and break me to + their rule. + </p> + <p> + “I agreed. But Mother Jane absolutely forbade me to marry him. Then the + Mormons took me away. It nearly killed me to leave Uncle Jim and Mother + Jane. I was carried and lifted out of the valley, and rode a long way on a + horse. They brought me here, to the cabin where I live, and I have never + been away except that—that time—to—Stonebridge. Only + little by little did I learn my position. Bishop Kane was kind, but stern, + because I could not be quick to learn the faith. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a sealed wife. But they're trying to make me one. The master + Mormon—he visited me often—at night—till lately. He + threatened me. He never told me a name—except Saint George. I don't—know + him—except his voice. I never—saw his face—in the + light!” + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Fay Larkin ended her story. Toward its close Shefford had grown + involuntarily restless, and when her last tragic whisper ceased all his + body seemed shaken with a terrible violence of his joy. He strode to and + fro in the dark shadow of the stone. The receding blood left him cold, + with a pricking, sickening sensation over his body, but there seemed to be + an overwhelming tide accumulating deep in his breast—a tide of + passion and pain. He dominated the passion, but the ache remained. And he + returned to the quiet figure on the stone. + </p> + <p> + “Fay Larkin!” he exclaimed, with a deep breath of relief that the secret + was disclosed. “So you're not a wife!... You're free! Thank Heaven! But I + felt it was sacrifice. I knew there had been a crime. For crime it is. You + child! You can't understand what crime. Oh, almost I wish you and Jane and + Lassiter had never been found. But that's wrong of me. One year of agony—that + shall not ruin your life. Fay, I will take you away.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Away from this Mormon country—to the East,” he replied, and he + spoke of what he had known, of travel, of cities, of people, of happiness + possible for a young girl who had spent all her life hidden between the + narrow walls of a silent, lonely valley—he spoke swiftly and + eloquently till he lost his breath. + </p> + <p> + There was an instant of flashing wonder and joy on her white face, and + then the radiance paled, the glow died. Her soul was the darker for that + one strange, leaping glimpse of a glory not for such as she. + </p> + <p> + “I must stay here,” she said, shudderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Fay!—How strange to SAY Fay aloud to YOU!—Fay, do you know + the way to Surprise Valley?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know where it is, but I could go straight to it,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Take me there. Show me your beautiful valley. Let me see where you ran + and climbed and spent so many lonely years.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, how I'd love to! But I dare not. And why should you want me to take + you? We can run and climb here.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to—I mean to save Jane Withersteen and Lassiter,” he + declared. + </p> + <p> + She uttered a little cry of pain. “Save them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, save them. Get them out of the valley, take them out of the country, + far away where they and YOU—” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't go,” she wailed. “I'm afraid. I'm bound. It CAN'T be broken. + If I dared—if I tried to go they would catch me. They would hang + Uncle Jim and leave Mother Jane alone there to starve.” + </p> + <p> + “Fay, Lassiter and Jane both will starve—at least they will die + there if we do not save them. You have been terribly wronged. You're a + slave. You're not a wife.” + </p> + <p> + “They—said I'll be burned in hell if I don't marry him.... Mother + Jane never taught me about God. I don't know. But HE—he said God was + there. I dare not break it.” + </p> + <p> + “Fay, you have been deceived by old men. Let them have their creed. But + YOU mustn't accept it.” + </p> + <p> + “John, what is God to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear child, I—I am not sure of that myself,” he replied, huskily. + “When all this trouble is behind us, surely I can help you to understand + and you can help me. The fact that you are alive—that Lassiter and + Jane are alive—that I shall save you all—that lifts me up. I + tell you—Fay Larkin will be my salvation.” + </p> + <p> + “Your words trouble me. Oh, I shall be torn one way and another.... But, + John, I daren't run away. I will not tell you where to find Lassiter and + Mother Jane.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall find them—I have the Indian. He found you for me. Nas Ta + Bega will find Surprise Valley.” + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega!... Oh, I remember. There was an Indian with the Mormons who + found us. But he was a Piute.” + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega never told me how he learned about you. That he learned was + enough. And, Fay, he will find Surprise Valley. He will save Uncle Jim and + Mother Jane.” + </p> + <p> + Fay's hands clasped Shefford's in strong, trembling pressure; the tears + streamed down her white cheeks; a tragic and eloquent joy convulsed her + face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my friend, save them! But I can't go.... Let them keep me! Let him + kill me!” + </p> + <p> + “Him! Fay—he shall not harm you,” replied Shefford in passionate + earnestness. + </p> + <p> + She caught the hand he had struck out with. + </p> + <p> + “You talk—you look like Uncle Jim when he spoke of the Mormons,” she + said. “Then I used to be afraid of him. He was so different. John, you + must not do anything about me. Let me be. It's too late. He—and his + men—they would hang you. And I couldn't bear that. I've enough to + bear without losing my friend. Say you won't watch and wait—for—for + him.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford had to promise her. Like an Indian she gave expression to + primitive feeling, for it certainly never occurred to her that, whatever + Shefford might do, he was not the kind of man to wait in hiding for an + enemy. Fay had faltered through her last speech and was now weak and + nervous and frightened. Shefford took her back to the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “Fay, don't be distressed,” he said. “I won't do anything right away. You + can trust me. I won't be rash. I'll consult you before I make a move. I + haven't any idea what I could do, anyway.... You must bear up. Why, it + looks as if you're sorry I found you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I'm glad!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Then if you're glad you mustn't break down this way again. Suppose some + of the women happened to run into us.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't again. It's only you—you surprised me so. I used to think + how I'd like you to know—I wasn't really dead. But now—it's + different. It hurts me here. Yet I'm glad—if my being alive makes + you—a little happier.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford felt that he had to go then. He could not trust himself any + further. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Fay,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, John,” she whispered. “I promise—to be good to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + She was crying softly when he left her. Twice he turned to see the dim, + white, slender form against the gloom of the cabin. Then he went on under + the pinyons, blindly down the path, with his heart as heavy as lead. That + night as he rolled in his blanket and stretched wearily he felt that he + would never be able to sleep. The wind in the cedars made him shiver. The + great stars seemed relentless, passionless, white eyes, mocking his little + destiny and his pain. The huge shadow of the mountain resembled the shadow + of the insurmountable barrier between Fay and him. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Her pitiful, childish promise to be good was in his mind when he went to + her home on the next night. He wondered how she would be, and he realized + a desperate need of self-control. + </p> + <p> + But that night Fay Larkin was a different girl. In the dark, before she + spoke, he felt a difference that afforded him surprise and relief. He + greeted her as usual. And then it seemed, though not at all clearly, that + he was listening to a girl, strangely and unconsciously glad to see him, + who spoke with deeper note in her voice, who talked where always she had + listened, whose sadness was there under an eagerness, a subdued gaiety as + new to her, as sweet as it was bewildering. And he responded with emotion, + so that the hour passed swiftly, and he found himself back in camp, in a + kind of dream, unable to remember much of what she had said, sure only of + this strange sweetness suddenly come to her. + </p> + <p> + Upon the following night, however, he discovered what had wrought this + singular change in Fay Larkin. She loved him and she did not know it. How + passionately sweet and sad and painful was that realization for Shefford! + The hour spent with her then was only a moment. + </p> + <p> + He walked under the stars that night and they shed a glorious light upon + him. He tried to think, to plan, but the sweetness of remembered word or + look made mental effort almost impossible. He got as far as the thought + that he would do well to drift, to wait till she learned she loved him, + and then, perhaps, she could be persuaded to let him take her and Lassiter + and Jane away together. + </p> + <p> + And from that night he went at his work and the part he played in the + village with a zeal and a cunning that left him free to seek Fay when he + chose. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes in the afternoon, always for a while in the evening, he was with + her. They climbed the walls, and sat upon a lonely height to look afar; + they walked under the stars, and the cedars, and the shadows of the great + cliffs. She had a beautiful mind. Listening to her, he imagined he saw + down into beautiful Surprise Valley with all its weird shadows, its + colored walls and painted caves, its golden shafts of morning light and + the red haze at sunset; and he felt the silence that must have been there, + and the singing of the wind in the cliffs, and the sweetness and fragrance + of the flowers, and the wildness of it all. Love had worked a marvelous + transformation in this girl who had lived her life in a canyon. The burden + upon her did not weigh heavily. She could not have an unhappy thought. She + spoke of the village, of her Mormon companions, of daily happenings, of + Stonebridge, of many things in a matter-of-fact way that showed how little + they occupied her mind. She even spoke of sealed wives in a kind of dreamy + abstraction. Something had possession of her, something as strong as the + nature which had developed her, and in its power she, in her simplicity, + was utterly unconscious, a watching and feeling girl. A strange, witching, + radiant beauty lurked in her smile. And Shefford heard her laugh in his + dreams. + </p> + <p> + The weeks slipped by. The black mountain took on a white cap of snow; in + the early mornings there was ice in the crevices on the heights and frost + in the valley. In the sheltered canyon where sunshine seemed to linger it + was warm and pleasant, so that winter did not kill the flowers. + </p> + <p> + Shefford waited so long for Fay's awakening that he believed it would + never come, and, believing, had not the heart to force it upon her. Then + there was a growing fear with him. What would Fay Larkin do when she + awakened to the truth? Fay was indeed like that white and fragile lily + which bloomed in the silent, lonely canyon, but the same nature that had + created it had created her. Would she droop as the lily would in a furnace + blast? More than that, he feared a sudden flashing into life of strength, + power, passion, hate. She did not hate yet because she did not yet realize + love. She was utterly innocent of any wrong having been done her. More and + more he began to fear, and a foreboding grew upon him. He made up his mind + to broach the subject of Surprise Valley and of escaping with Lassiter and + Jane; still, every time he was with Fay the girl and her beauty and her + love were so wonderful that he put off the ordeal till the next night. As + time flew by he excused his vacillation on the score that winter was not a + good time to try to cross the desert. There was no grass for the mustangs, + except in well-known valleys, and these he must shun. Spring would soon + come. So the days passed, and he loved Fay more all the time, desperately + living out to its limit the sweetness of every moment with her, and paying + for his bliss in the increasing trouble that beset him when once away from + her charm. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + One starry night, about ten o'clock, he went, as was his custom, to drink + at the spring. Upon his return to the cedars Nas Ta Bega, who slept under + the same tree with him, had arisen, with his blanket hanging half off his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said the Indian. + </p> + <p> + Shefford took one glance at the dark, somber face, with its inscrutable + eyes, now so strange and piercing, and then, with a kind of cold + excitement, he faced the way the Indian looked, and listened. But he heard + only the soft moan of the night wind in the cedars. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega kept the rigidity of his position for a moment, and then he + relaxed, and stood at ease. Shefford knew the Indian had made a certainty + of what must have been a doubtful sound. And Shefford leaned his ear to + the wind and strained his hearing. + </p> + <p> + Then the soft night breeze brought a faint patter—the slow trot of + horses on a hard trail. Some one was coming into the village at a late + hour. Shefford thought of Joe Lake. But Joe lay right behind him, asleep + in his blankets. It could not be Withers, for the trader was in Durango at + that time. Shefford thought of Willetts and Shadd. + </p> + <p> + “Who's coming?” he asked low of the Indian. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega pointed down the trail without speaking. + </p> + <p> + Shefford peered through the white dim haze of starlight and presently he + made out moving figures. Horses, with riders—a string of them—one—two—three—four—five—and + he counted up to eleven. Eleven horsemen riding into the village! He was + amazed, and suddenly keenly anxious. This visit might be one of Shadd's + raids. + </p> + <p> + “Shadd's gang!” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “No, Bi Nai,” replied Nas Ta Bega, and he drew Shefford farther into the + shade of the cedars. His voice, his action, the way he kept a hand on + Shefford's shoulder, all this told much to the young man. + </p> + <p> + Mormons come on a night visit! Shefford realized it with a slight shock. + Then swift as a lightning flash he was rent by another shock—one + that brought cold moisture to his brow and to his heart a flame of hell. + </p> + <p> + He was shaking when he sank down to find the support of a log. Like a + shadow the Indian silently moved away. Shefford watched the eleven horses + pass the camp, go down the road, to disappear in the village. They + vanished, and the soft clip-clops of hoofs died away. There was nothing + left to prove he had not dreamed. + </p> + <p> + Nothing to prove it except this sudden terrible demoralization of his + physical and spiritual being! While he peered out into the valley, toward + the black patch of cedars and pinyons that hid the cabins, moments and + moments passed, and in them he was gripped with cold and fire. + </p> + <p> + Was the Mormon who had abducted Fay—the man with the cruel voice—was + he among those eleven horsemen? He might not have been. What a torturing + hope! But vain—vain, for inevitably he must be among them. He was + there in the cabin already. He had dismounted, tied his horse, had knocked + on her door. Did he need to knock? No, he would go in, he would call her + in that cruel voice, and then... + </p> + <p> + Shefford pulled a blanket from his bed and covered his cold and trembling + body. He had sunk down off the log, was leaning back upon it. The stars + were pale, far off, and the valley seemed unreal. He found himself + listening—listening with sick and terrible earnestness, trying to + hear against the thrum and beat of his heart, straining to catch a sound + in all that cold, star-blanched, silent valley. But he could hear no + sound. It was as if death held the valley in its perfect silence. How he + hated that silence! There ought to have been a million horrible, bellowing + demons making the night hideous. Did the stars serenely look down upon the + lonely cabins of these exiles? Was there no thunderbolt to drop down from + that dark and looming mountain upon the silent cabin where tragedy had + entered? In all the world, under the sea, in the abysmal caves, in the + vast spaces of the air, there was no such terrible silence as this. A + scream, a long cry, a moan—these were natural to a woman, and why + did not one of these sealed wives, why did not Fay Larkin, damn this + everlasting acquiescent silence? Perhaps she would fly out of her cabin, + come running along the path. Shefford peered into the bright patches of + starlight and into the shadows of the cedars. But he saw no moving form in + the open, no dim white shape against the gloom. And he heard no sound—not + even a whisper of wind in the branches overhead. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega returned to the shade of the cedars and, lying down on his + blankets, covered himself and went to sleep. The fact seemed to bring + bitter reality to Shefford. Nothing was going to happen. The valley was to + be the same this night as any other night. Shefford accepted the truth. He + experienced a kind of self-pity. The night he had thought so much about, + prepared for, and had forgotten had now arrived. Then he threw another + blanket round him, and, cold, dark, grim, he faced that lonely vigil, + meaning to sit there, wide-eyed, to endure and to wait. + </p> + <p> + Jealousy and pain, following his frenzy, abided with him long hours, and + when they passed he divined that selfishness passed with them. What he + suffered then was for Fay Larkin and for her sisters in misfortune. He + grew big enough to pity these fanatics. The fiery, racing tide of blood + that had made of him only an animal had cooled with thought of others. + Still he feared that stultifying thing which must have been hate. What a + tempest had raged within him! This blood of his, that had received a + stronger strain from his desert life, might in a single moment flood out + reason and intellect and make him a vengeful man. So in those starlit + hours that dragged interminably he looked deep into his heart and tried to + fortify himself against a dark and evil moment to come. + </p> + <p> + Midnight—and the valley seemed a tomb! Did he alone keep wakeful? + The sky was a darker blue, the stars burned a whiter fire, the peaks stood + looming and vast, tranquil sentinels of that valley, and the wind rose to + sigh, to breathe, to mourn through the cedars. It was a sad music. The + Indian lay prone, dark face to the stars. Joe Lake lay prone, sleeping as + quietly, with his dark face exposed to the starlight. The gentle movement + of the cedar branches changed the shape of the bright patches on the grass + where shadow and light met. The walls of the valley waved upward, dark + below and growing paler, to shine faintly at the rounded rims. And there + was a tiny, silvery tinkle of running water over stones. + </p> + <p> + Here was a little nook of the vast world. Here were tranquillity, beauty, + music, loneliness, life. Shefford wondered—did he alone keep + watchful? Did he feel that he could see dark, wide eyes peering into the + gloom? And it came to him after a time that he was not alone in his vigil, + nor was Fay Larkin alone in her agony. There was some one else in the + valley, a great and breathing and watchful spirit. It entered into + Shefford's soul and he trembled. What had come to him? And he answered—only + added pain and new love, and a strange strength from the firmament and the + peaks and the silence and the shadows. + </p> + <p> + The bright belt with its three radiant stars sank behind the western wall + and there was a paler gloom upon the valley. + </p> + <p> + Then a few lights twinkled in the darkness that enveloped the cabins; a + woman's laugh strangely broke the silence, profaning it, giving the lie to + that somber yoke which seemed to consist of the very shadows; the voices + of men were heard, and then the slow clip-clop of trotting horses on the + hard trail. + </p> + <p> + Shefford saw the Mormons file out into the paling starlight, ride down the + valley, and vanish in the gray gloom. He was aware that the Indian sat up + to watch the procession ride by, and that Joe turned over, as if + disturbed. + </p> + <p> + One by one the stars went out. The valley became a place of gray shadows. + In the east a light glowed. Shefford sat there, haggard and worn, watching + the coming of the dawn, the kindling of the light; and had the power been + his the dawn would never have broken and the rose and gold never have + tipped the lofty peaks. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Shefford attended to his camp chores as usual. Several times he was aware + of Joe's close scrutiny, and finally, without looking at him, Shefford + told of the visit of the Mormons. A violent expulsion of breath was Joe's + answer and it might have been a curse. Straightway Joe ceased his cheery + whistling and became as somber as the Indian. The camp was silent; the men + did not look at one another. While they sat at breakfast Shefford's back + was turned toward the village—he had not looked in that direction + since dawn. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” suddenly exclaimed Nas Ta Bega. + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake muttered low and deep, and this time there was no mistake about + the nature of his speech. Shefford did not have the courage to turn to see + what had caused these exclamations. He knew since today had dawned that + there was calamity in the air. + </p> + <p> + “Shefford, I reckon if I know women there's a little hell coming to you,” + said the Mormon, significantly. + </p> + <p> + Shefford wheeled as if a powerful force had turned him on a pivot. He saw + Fay Larkin. She seemed to be almost running. She was unhooded and her + bright hair streamed down. Her swift, lithe action was without its usual + grace. She looked wild, and she almost fell crossing the stepping-stones + of the brook. + </p> + <p> + Joe hurried to meet her, took hold of her arm and spoke, but she did not + seem to hear him. She drew him along with her, up the little bench under + the cedars straight toward Shefford. Her face held a white, mute agony, as + if in the hour of strife it had hardened into marble. But her eyes were + dark-purple fire—windows of an extraordinarily intense and vital + life. In one night the girl had become a woman. But the blight Shefford + had dreaded to see—the withering of the exquisite soul and spirit + and purity he had considered inevitable, just as inevitable as the death + of something similar in the flower she resembled, when it was broken and + defiled—nothing of this was manifest in her. Straight and swiftly + she came to him back in the shade of the cedars and took hold of his + hands. + </p> + <p> + “Last night—HE CAME!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—Fay—I—I know,” replied Shefford, haltingly. + </p> + <p> + He was tremblingly conscious of amaze at her—of something wonderful + in her. She did not heed Joe, who stepped aside a little; she did not see + Nas Ta Bega, who sat motionless on a log, apparently oblivious to her + presence. + </p> + <p> + “You knew he came?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Fay. I was awake when—they rode in. I watched them. I sat up + all night. I saw them ride away.” + </p> + <p> + “If you knew when he came why didn't you run to me—to get to me + before he did?” + </p> + <p> + Her question was unanswerable. It had the force of a blow. It stunned him. + Its sharp, frank directness sprang from a simplicity and a strength that + had not been nurtured in the life he had lived. So far men had wandered + from truth and nature! + </p> + <p> + “I came to you as soon as I was able,” she went on. “I must have fainted. + I just had to drag myself around.... And now I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + He was powerless to reply, as if she had put another unanswerable + question. What did she mean to tell him? What might she not tell him? She + loosed her hands from his and lifted them to his shoulders, and that was + the first conscious action of feeling, of intimacy, which she had ever + shown. It quite robbed Shefford of strength, and in spite of his sorrow + there was an indefinable thrill in her touch. He looked at her, saw the + white-and-gold beauty that was hers yesterday and seemed changed to-day, + and he recognized Fay Larkin in a woman he did not know. + </p> + <p> + “Listen! He came—” + </p> + <p> + “Fay, don't—tell me,” interrupted Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “I WILL tell you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Did the instinct of love teach her how to mitigate his pain? Shefford felt + that, as he felt the new-born strength in her. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” she went on. “He came when I was undressing for bed. I heard the + horse. He knocked on the door. Something terrible happened to me then. I + felt sick and my head wasn't clear. I remember next—his being in the + room—the lamp was out—I couldn't see very well. He thought I + was sick and he gave me a drink and let the air blow in on me through the + window. I remember I lay back in the chair and I thought. And I listened. + When would you come? I didn't feel that you could leave me there alone + with him. For his coming was different this time. That pain like a blade + in my side!... When it came I was not the same. I loved you. I understood + then. I belonged to you. I couldn't let him touch me. I had never been his + wife. When I realized this—that he was there, that you might suffer + for it—I cried right out. + </p> + <p> + “He thought I was sick. He worked over me. He gave me medicine. And then + he prayed. I saw him, in the dark, on his knees, praying for me. That + seemed strange. Yet he was kind, so kind that I begged him to let me go. I + was not a Mormon. I couldn't marry him. I begged him to let me go. + </p> + <p> + “Then he thought I had been deceiving him. He fell into a fury. He talked + for a long time. He called upon God to visit my sins upon me. He tried to + make me pray. But I wouldn't. And then I fought him. I'd have screamed for + you had he not smothered me. I got weak.... And you never came. I know I + thought you would come. But you didn't. Then I—I gave out. And after—some + time—I must have fainted.” + </p> + <p> + “Fay! For Heaven's sake, how could I come to you?” burst out Shefford, + hoarse and white with remorse, passion, pain. + </p> + <p> + “If I'm any man's wife I'm yours. It's a thing you FEEL, isn't it? I know + that now.... But I want to know what to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Fay!” he cried, huskily. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sick of it all. If it weren't for you I'd climb the wall and throw + myself off. That would be easy for me. I'd love to die that way. All my + life I've been high up on the walls. To fall would be nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you mustn't talk like that!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you love me?” she asked, with a low and deathless sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “Love you? With all my heart! Nothing can change that!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me—as you used to want the Fay Larkin lost in Surprise + Valley? Do you love me that way? I understand things better than before, + but still—not all. I AM Fay Larkin. I think I must have dreamed of + you all my life. I was glad when you came here. I've been happy lately. I + forgot—till last night. Maybe it needed that to make me see I've + loved you all the time.... And I fought him like a wildcat!... Tell me the + truth. I feel I'm yours. Is that true? If I'm not—I'll not live + another hour. Something holds me up. I am the same.... Do you want me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Fay Larkin, I want you,” replied Shefford, steadily, with his grip + on her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Then take me away. I don't want to live here another hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Fay, I'll take you. But it can't be done at once. We must plan. I need + help. There are Lassiter and Jane to get out of Surprise Valley. Give me + time, dear—give me time. It'll be a hard job. And we must plan so we + can positively get away. Give me time, Fay.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose HE comes back?” she queried, with a singular depth of voice. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have to risk that,” replied Shefford, miserably. “But—he + won't come soon.” + </p> + <p> + “He said he would,” she flashed. + </p> + <p> + Shefford seemed to freeze inwardly with her words. Love had made her a + woman and now the woman in her was speaking. She saw the truth as he could + not see it. And the truth was nature. She had been hidden all her life + from the world, from knowledge as he had it, yet when love betrayed her + womanhood to her she acquired all its subtlety. + </p> + <p> + “If I wait and he DOES come will you keep me from him?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “How can I? I'm staking all on the chance of his not coming soon. ... But, + Fay, if he DOES come and I don't give up our secret—how on earth can + I keep you from him?” demanded Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “If you love me you will do it,” she said, as simply as if she were fate. + </p> + <p> + “But how?” cried Shefford, almost beside himself. + </p> + <p> + “You are a man. Any man would save the woman who loves him from—from—Oh, + from a beast!... How would Lassiter do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Lassiter!” + </p> + <p> + “YOU CAN KILL HIM!” + </p> + <p> + It was there, deep and full in her voice, the strength of the elemental + forces that had surrounded her, primitive passion and hate and love, as + they were in woman in the beginning. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” Shefford cried aloud with his spirit when all that was red in + him sprang again into a flame of hell. That was what had been wrong with + him last night. He could kill this stealthy night-rider, and now, face to + face with Fay, who had never been so beautiful and wonderful as in this + hour when she made love the only and the sacred thing of life, now he had + it in him to kill. Yet, murder—even to kill a brute—that was + not for John Shefford, not the way for him to save a woman. Reason and + wisdom still fought the passion in him. If he could but cling to them—have + them with him in the dark and contending hour! + </p> + <p> + She leaned against him now, exhausted, her soul in her eyes, and they saw + only him. Shefford was all but powerless to resist the longing to take her + into his arms, to hold her to his heart, to let himself go. Did not her + love give her to him? Shefford gazed helplessly at the stricken Joe Lake, + at the somber Indian, as if from them he expected help. + </p> + <p> + “I know him now,” said Fay, breaking the silence with startling + suddenness. + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “I've seen him in the light. I flashed a candle in his face. I saw it. I + know him now. He was there at Stonebridge with us, and I never knew him. + But I know him now. His name is—” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake don't tell me who he is!” implored Shefford. + </p> + <p> + Ignorance was Shefford's safeguard against himself. To make a name of this + heretofore intangible man, to give him an identity apart from the crowd, + to be able to recognize him—that for Shefford would be fatal. + </p> + <p> + “Fay—tell me—no more,” he said, brokenly. “I love you and I + will give you my life. Trust me. I swear I'll save you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you take me away soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + She appeared satisfied with that and dropped her hands and moved back from + him. A light flitted over her white face, and her eyes grew dark and + humid, losing their fire in changing, shadowing thought of submission, of + trust, of hope. + </p> + <p> + “I can lead you to Surprise Valley,” she said. “I feel the way. It's + there!” And she pointed to the west. + </p> + <p> + “Fay, we'll go—soon. I must plan. I'll see you to-night. Then we'll + talk. Run home now, before some of the women see you here.” + </p> + <p> + She said good-by and started away under the cedars, out into the open + where her hair shone like gold in the sunlight, and she took the + stepping-stones with her old free grace, and strode down the path swift + and lithe as an Indian. Once she turned to wave a hand. + </p> + <p> + Shefford watched her with a torture of pride, love, hope, and fear + contending within him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. THE NAVAJO + </h2> + <p> + That morning a Piute rode into the valley. + </p> + <p> + Shefford recognized him as the brave who had been in love with Glen Naspa. + The moment Nas Ta Bega saw this visitor he made a singular motion with his + hands—a motion that somehow to Shefford suggested despair—and + then he waited, somber and statuesque, for the messenger to come to him. + It was the Piute who did all the talking, and that was brief. Then the + Navajo stood motionless, with his hands crossed over his breast. Shefford + drew near and waited. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai,” said the Navajo, “Nas Ta Bega said his sister would come home + some day.... Glen Naspa is in the hogan of her grandfather.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke in his usual slow, guttural voice, and he might have been bronze + for all the emotion he expressed; yet Shefford instinctively felt the + despair that had been hinted to him, and he put his hand on the Indian's + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “If I am the Navajo's brother, then I am brother to Glen Naspa,” he said. + “I will go with you to the hogan of Hosteen Doetin.” + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega went away into the valley for the horses. Shefford hurried to + the village, made his excuses at the school, and then called to explain to + Fay that trouble of some kind had come to the Indian. + </p> + <p> + Soon afterward he was riding Nack-yal on the rough and winding trail up + through the broken country of cliffs and canyon to the great league-long + sage and cedar slope of the mountain. It was weeks since he had ridden the + mustang. Nack-yal was fat and lazy. He loved his master, but he did not + like the climb, and so fell far behind the lean and wiry pony that carried + Nas Ta Bega. The sage levels were as purple as the haze of the distance, + and there was a bitter-sweet tang on the strong, cool wind. The sun was + gold behind the dark line of fringe on the mountain-top. A flock of sheep + swept down one of the sage levels, looking like a narrow stream of white + and black and brown. It was always amazing for Shefford to see how swiftly + these Navajo sheep grazed along. Wild mustangs plunged out of the cedar + clumps and stood upon the ridges, whistling defiance or curiosity, and + their manes and tails waved in the wind. + </p> + <p> + Shefford mounted slowly to the cedar bench in the midst of which were + hidden the few hogans. And he halted at the edge to dismount and take a + look at that downward-sweeping world of color, of wide space, at the wild + desert upland which from there unrolled its magnificent panorama. + </p> + <p> + Then he passed on into the cedars. How strange to hear the lambs bleating + again! Lambing-time had come early, but still spring was there in the new + green of grass, in the bright upland flower. He led his mustang out of the + cedars into the cleared circle. It was full of colts and lambs, and there + were the shepherd-dogs and a few old rams and ewes. But the circle was a + quiet place this day. There were no Indians in sight. Shefford loosened + the saddle-girths on Nack-yal and, leaving him to graze, went toward the + hogan of Hosteen Doetin. A blanket was hung across the door. Shefford + heard a low chanting. He waited beside the door till the covering was + pulled in, then he entered. + </p> + <p> + Hosteen Doetin met him, clasped his hand. The old Navajo could not speak; + his fine face was working in grief; tears streamed from his dim old eyes + and rolled down his wrinkled cheeks. His sorrow was no different from a + white man's sorrow. Beyond him Shefford saw Nas Ta Bega standing with + folded arms, somehow terrible in his somber impassiveness. At his feet + crouched the old woman, Hosteen Doetin's wife, and beside her, prone and + quiet, half covered with a blanket, lay Glen Naspa. + </p> + <p> + She was dead. To Shefford she seemed older than when he had last seen her. + And she was beautiful. Calm, cold, dark, with only bitter lips to give the + lie to peace! There was a story in those lips. + </p> + <p> + At her side, half hidden under the fold of blanket, lay a tiny bundle. Its + human shape startled Shefford. Then he did not need to be told the + tragedy. When he looked again at Glen Naspa's face he seemed to understand + all that had made her older, to feel the pain that had lined and set her + lips. + </p> + <p> + She was dead, and she was the last of Nas Ta Bega's family. In the old + grandfather's agony, in the wild chant of the stricken grandmother, in the + brother's stern and terrible calmness Shefford felt more than the death of + a loved one. The shadow of ruin, of doom, of death hovered over the girl + and her family and her tribe and her race. There was no consolation to + offer these relatives of Glen Naspa. Shefford took one more fascinated + gaze at her dark, eloquent, prophetic face, at the tragic tiny shape by + her side, and then with bowed head he left the hogan. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Outside he paced to and fro, with an aching heart for Nas Ta Bega, with + something of the white man's burden of crime toward the Indian weighing + upon his soul. + </p> + <p> + Old Hosteen Doetin came to him with shaking hands and words memorable of + the time Glen Naspa left his hogan. + </p> + <p> + “Me no savvy Jesus Christ. Me hungry. Me no eat Jesus Christ!” + </p> + <p> + That seemed to be all of his trouble that he could express to Shefford. He + could not understand the religion of the missionary, this Jesus Christ who + had called his granddaughter away. And the great fear of an old Indian was + not death, but hunger. Shefford remembered a custom of the Navajos, a + thing barbarous looked at with a white man's mind. If an old Indian failed + on a long march he was inclosed by a wall of stones, given plenty to eat + and drink, and left there to die in the desert. Not death did he fear, but + hunger! Old Hosteen Doetin expected to starve, now that the young and + strong squaw of his family was gone. + </p> + <p> + Shefford spoke in his halting Navajo and assured the old Indian that Nas + Ta Bega would never let him starve. + </p> + <p> + At sunset Shefford stood with Nas Ta Bega facing the west. The Indian was + magnificent in repose. He watched the sun go down upon the day that had + seen the burial of the last of his family. He resembled an impassive + destiny, upon which no shocks fell. He had the light of that flaring + golden sky in his face, the majesty of the mountain in his mien, the + silence of the great gulf below on his lips. This educated Navajo, who had + reverted to the life of his ancestors, found in the wildness and + loneliness of his environment a strength no white teaching could ever have + given him. Shefford sensed in him a measureless grief, an impenetrable + gloom, a tragic acceptance of the meaning of Glen Naspa's ruin and death—the + vanishing of his race from the earth. Death had written the law of such + bitter truth round Glen Naspa's lips, and the same truth was here in the + grandeur and gloom of the Navajo. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai,” he said, with the beautiful sonorous roll in his voice, “Glen + Naspa is in her grave and there are no paths to the place of her sleep. + Glen Naspa is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone! Where? Nas Ta Bega, remember I lost my own faith, and I have not + yet learned yours.” + </p> + <p> + “The Navajo has one mother—the earth. Her body has gone to the earth + and it will become dust. But her spirit is in the air. It shall whisper to + me from the wind. I shall hear it on running waters. It will hide in the + morning music of a mocking-bird and in the lonely night cry of the canyon + hawk. Her blood will go to make the red of the Indian flowers and her soul + will rest at midnight in the lily that opens only to the moon. She will + wait in the shadow for me, and live in the great mountain that is my home, + and for ever step behind me on the trail.” + </p> + <p> + “You will kill Willetts?” demanded Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “The Navajo will not seek the missionary.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you meet him you'll kill him?” + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai, would Nas Ta Bega kill after it is too late? What good could + come? The Navajo is above revenge.” + </p> + <p> + “If he crosses my trail I think I couldn't help but kill him,” muttered + Shefford in a passion that wrung the threat from him. + </p> + <p> + The Indian put his arm round the white man's shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai, long ago I made you my brother. And now you make me your brother. + Is it not so? Glen Naspa's spirit calls for wisdom, not revenge. Willetts + must be a bad man. But we'll let him live. Life will punish him. Who knows + if he was all to blame? Glen Naspa was only one pretty Indian girl. There + are many white men in the desert. She loved a white man when she was a + baby. The thing was a curse. ... Listen, Bi Nai, and the Navajo will talk. + </p> + <p> + “Many years ago the Spanish padres, the first white men, came into the + land of the Indian. Their search was for gold. But they were not wicked + men. They did not steal and kill. They taught the Indian many useful + things. They brought him horses. But when they went away they left him + unsatisfied with his life and his god. + </p> + <p> + “Then came the pioneers. They crossed the great river and took the + pasture-lands and the hunting-grounds of the Indian. They drove him + backward, and the Indian grew sullen. He began to fight. The white man's + government made treaties with the Indian, and these were broken. Then war + came—fierce and bloody war. The Indian was driven to the waste + places. The stream of pioneers, like a march of ants, spread on into the + desert. Every valley where grass grew, every river, became a place for + farms and towns. Cattle choked the water-holes where the buffalo and deer + had once gone to drink. The forests in the hills were cut and the springs + dried up. And the pioneers followed to the edge of the desert. + </p> + <p> + “Then came the prospectors, mad, like the padres for the gleam of gold. + The day was not long enough for them to dig in the creeks and the canyon; + they worked in the night. And they brought weapons and rum to the Indian, + to buy from him the secret of the places where the shining gold lay + hidden. + </p> + <p> + “Then came the traders. And they traded with the Indian. They gave him + little for much, and that little changed his life. He learned a taste for + the sweet foods of the white man. Because he could trade for a sack of + flour he worked less in the field. And the very fiber of his bones + softened. + </p> + <p> + “Then came the missionaries. They were proselytizers for converts to their + religion. The missionaries are good men. There may be a bad missionary, + like Willetts, the same as there are bad men in other callings, or bad + Indians. They say Shadd is a half-breed. But the Piutes can tell you he is + a full-blood, and he, like me, was sent to a white man's school. In the + beginning the missionaries did well for the Indian. They taught him + cleaner ways of living, better farming, useful work with tools—many + good things. But the wrong to the Indian was the undermining of his faith. + It was not humanity that sent the missionary to the Indian. Humanity would + have helped the Indian in his ignorance of sickness and work, and left him + his god. For to trouble the Indian about his god worked at the roots of + his nature. + </p> + <p> + “The beauty of the Indian's life is in his love of the open, of all that + is nature, of silence, freedom, wildness. It is a beauty of mind and soul. + The Indian would have been content to watch and feel. To a white man he + might be dirty and lazy—content to dream life away without trouble + or what the white man calls evolution. The Indian might seem cruel because + he leaves his old father out in the desert to die. But the old man wants + to die that way, alone with his spirits and the sunset. And the white + man's medicine keeps his old father alive days and days after he ought to + be dead. Which is more cruel? The Navajos used to fight with other tribes, + and then they were stronger men than they are to-day. + </p> + <p> + “But leaving religion, greed, and war out of the question, contact with + the white man would alone have ruined the Indian. The Indian and the white + man cannot mix. The Indian brave learns the habits of the white man, + acquires his diseases, and has not the mind or body to withstand them. The + Indian girl learns to love the white man—and that is death of her + Indian soul, if not of life. + </p> + <p> + “So the red man is passing. Tribes once powerful have died in the life of + Nas Ta Bega. The curse of the white man is already heavy upon my race in + the south. Here in the north, in the wildest corner of the desert, chased + here by the great soldier, Carson, the Navajo has made his last stand. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai, you have seen the shadow in the hogan of Hosteen Doetin. Glen + Naspa has gone to her grave, and no sisters, no children, will make paths + to the place of her sleep. Nas Ta Bega will never have a wife—a + child. He sees the end. It is the sunset of the Navajo.... Bi Nai, the + Navajo is dying—dying—dying!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. WILD JUSTICE + </h2> + <p> + A crescent moon hung above the lofty peak over the valley and a train of + white stars ran along the bold rim of the western wall. A few young frogs + peeped plaintively. The night was cool, yet had a touch of balmy spring, + and a sweeter fragrance, as if the cedars and pinyons had freshened in the + warm sun of that day. + </p> + <p> + Shefford and Fay were walking in the aisles of moonlight and the patches + of shade, and Nas Ta Bega, more than ever a shadow of his white brother, + followed them silently. + </p> + <p> + “Fay, it's growing late. Feel the dew?” said Shefford. “Come, I must take + you back.” + </p> + <p> + “But the time's so short. I have said nothing that I wanted to say,” she + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Say it quickly, then, as we go.” + </p> + <p> + “After all, it's only—will you take me away soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very soon. The Indian and I have talked. But we've made no plan yet. + There are only three ways to get out of this country. By Stonebridge, by + Kayenta and Durango, and by Red Lake. We must choose one. All are + dangerous. We must lose time finding Surprise Valley. I hoped the Indian + could find it. Then we'd bring Lassiter and Jane here and hide them near + till dark, then take you and go. That would give us a night's start. But + you must help us to Surprise Valley.” + </p> + <p> + “I can go right to it, blindfolded, or in the dark.... Oh, John, hurry! I + dread the wait. He might come again.” + </p> + <p> + “Joe says—they won't come very soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it far—where we're going—out of the country?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten days' hard riding.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! That night ride to and from Stonebridge nearly killed me. But I could + walk very far, and climb for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Fay, we'll get out of the country if I have to carry you.” + </p> + <p> + When they arrived at the cabin Fay turned on the porch step and, with her + face nearer a level with his, white and sweet in the moonlight, with her + eyes shining and unfathomable, she was more than beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “You've never been inside my house,” she said. “Come in. I've something + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's late,” he remonstrated. “I suppose you've got me a cake or pie—something + to eat. You women all think Joe and I have to be fed.” + </p> + <p> + “No. You'd never guess. Come in,” she said, and the rare smile on her face + was something Shefford would have gone far to see. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, for a minute.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed the porch, the threshold, and entered her home. Her dim, white + shape moved in the darkness. And he followed into a room where the moon + shone through the open window, giving soft, mellow, shadowy light. He + discerned objects, but not clearly, for his senses seemed absorbed in the + strange warmth and intimacy of being for the first time with her in her + home. + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not good to eat,” she said, and her laugh was happy. “Here—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she abruptly ceased speaking. Shefford saw her plainly, and the + slender form had stiffened, alert and strained. She was listening. + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't hear anything,” he whispered back. + </p> + <p> + He stepped softly nearer the open window and listened. + </p> + <p> + Clip-clop! clip-clop! clip-clop! Hard hoofs on the hard path outside! + </p> + <p> + A strong and rippling thrill went over Shefford. In the soft light her + eyes seemed unnaturally large and black and fearful. + </p> + <p> + Clip-clop! clip-clop! + </p> + <p> + The horse stopped outside. Then followed a metallic clink of spur against + stirrup—thud of boots on hard ground—heavy footsteps upon the + porch. + </p> + <p> + A swift, cold contraction of throat, of breast, convulsed Shefford. His + only thought was that he could not think. + </p> + <p> + “Ho—Mary!” + </p> + <p> + A voice liberated both Shefford's muscle and mind—a voice of + strange, vibrant power. Authority of religion and cruelty of will—these + Mormon attributes constituted that power. And Shefford suffered a + transformation which must have been ordered by demons. That sudden flame + seemed to curl and twine and shoot along his veins with blasting force. A + rancorous and terrible cry leaped to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Ho—Mary!” Then came a heavy tread across the threshold of the outer + room. + </p> + <p> + Shefford dared not look at Fay. Yet, dimly, from the corner of his eye, he + saw her, a pale shadow, turned to stone, with her arms out. If he looked, + if he made sure of that, he was lost. When had he drawn his gun? It was + there, a dark and glinting thing in his hand. He must fly—not + through cowardice and fear, but because in one more moment he would kill a + man. Swift as the thought he dove through the open window. And, leaping + up, he ran under the dark pinyons toward camp. + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake had been out late himself. He sat by the fire, smoking his pipe. + He must have seen or heard Shefford coming, for he rose with unwonted + alacrity, and he kicked the smoldering logs into a flickering blaze. + </p> + <p> + Shefford, realizing his deliverance, came panting, staggering into the + light. The Mormon uttered an exclamation. Then he spoke, anxiously, but + what he said was not clear in Shefford's thick and throbbing ears. He + dropped his pipe, a sign of perturbation, and he stared. + </p> + <p> + But Shefford, without a word, lunged swiftly away into the shadow of the + cedars. He found relief in action. He began a steep ascent of the east + wall, a dangerous slant he had never dared even in daylight, and he + climbed it without a slip. Danger, steep walls, perilous heights, night, + and black canyon the same—these he never thought of. But something + drove him to desperate effort, that the hours might seem short. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + The red sun was tipping the eastern wall when he returned to camp, and he + was neither calm nor sure of himself nor ready for sleep or food. Only he + had put the night behind him. + </p> + <p> + The Indian showed no surprise. But Joe Lake's jaw dropped and his eyes + rolled. Moreover, Joe bore a singular aspect, the exact nature of which + did not at once dawn upon Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “By God! you've got nerve—or you're crazy!” he ejaculated, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + Then it was Shefford's turn to stare. The Mormon was haggard, grieved, + frightened, and utterly amazed. He appeared to be trying to make certain + of Shefford's being there in the flesh and then to find reason for it. + </p> + <p> + “I've no nerve and I am crazy,” replied Shefford. “But, Joe—what do + you mean? Why do you look at me like that?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon if I get your horse that'll square us. Did you come back for + him? You'd better hit the trail quick.” + </p> + <p> + “It's you now who're crazy,” burst out Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Wish to God I was,” replied Joe. + </p> + <p> + It was then Shefford realized catastrophe, and cold fear gnawed at his + vitals, so that he was sick. + </p> + <p> + “Joe, what has happened?” he asked, with the blood thick in his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't you better tell me?” demanded the Mormon, and a red wave blotted + out the haggard shade of his face. + </p> + <p> + “You talk like a fool,” said Shefford, sharply, and he strode right up to + Joe. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Shefford, we've been pards. You're making it hard for me. + Reckon you ain't square.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford shot out a long arm and his hand clutched the Mormon's burly + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Why am I not square? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Joe swallowed hard and gave himself a shake. Then he eyed his comrade + steadily. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid you'd kill him. I reckon I can't blame you. I'll help you + get away. And I'm a Mormon! Do you take the hunch?... But don't deny you + killed him!” + </p> + <p> + “Killed whom?” gasped Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Her husband!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford seemed stricken by a slow, paralyzing horror. The Mormon's + changing face grew huge and indistinct and awful in his sight. He was + clutched and shaken in Joe's rude hands, yet scarcely felt them. Joe + seemed to be bellowing at him, but the voice was far off. Then Shefford + began to see, to hear through some cold and terrible deadness that had + come between him and everything. + </p> + <p> + “Say YOU killed him!” hoarsely supplicated the Mormon. + </p> + <p> + Shefford had not yet control of speech. Something in his gaze appeared to + drive Joe frantic. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you! Tell me quick. Say YOU killed him!... If you want to know my + stand, why, I'm glad!... Shefford, don't look so stony! ... For HER sake, + say you killed him!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford stood with a face as gray and still as stone. With a groan the + Mormon drew away from him and sank upon a log. He bowed his head; his + broad shoulders heaved; husky sounds came from him. Then with a violent + wrench he plunged to his feet and shook himself like a huge, savage dog. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon it's no time to weaken,” he said, huskily, and with the words a + dark, hard, somber bitterness came to his face. + </p> + <p> + “Where—is—she?” whispered Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up in the school-house,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Did she—did she—” + </p> + <p> + “She neither denied nor confessed.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you—seen her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How did—she look?” + </p> + <p> + “Cool and quiet as the Indian there.... Game as hell! She always had stuff + in her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Joe!... It's unbelievable!” cried Shefford. “That lovely, innocent + girl! She couldn't—she couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “She's fixed him. Don't think of that. It's too late. We ought to have + saved her.” + </p> + <p> + “God!... She begged me to hurry—to take her away.” + </p> + <p> + “Think what we can do NOW to save her,” cut in the Mormon. + </p> + <p> + Shefford sustained a vivifying shock. “To save her?” he echoed. + </p> + <p> + “Think, man!” + </p> + <p> + “Joe, I can hit the trail and let you tell them I killed him,” burst out + Shefford in panting excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I can.” + </p> + <p> + “So help me God I'll do it!” + </p> + <p> + The Mormon turned a dark and austere glance upon Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't leave her. She killed him for your sake.... You must fight + for her now—save her—take her away.” + </p> + <p> + “But the law!” + </p> + <p> + “Law!” scoffed Joe. “In these wilds men get killed and there's no law. But + if she's taken back to Stonebridge those iron-jawed old Mormons will make + law enough to—to... Shefford, the thing is—get her away. Once + out of the country, she's safe. Mormons keep their secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take her. Joe, will you help me?” + </p> + <p> + Shefford, even in his agitation, felt the Mormon's silence to be a consent + that need not have been asked. And Shefford had a passionate gratefulness + toward his comrade. That stultifying and blinding prejudice which had + always seemed to remove a Mormon outside the pale of certain virtue + suffered final eclipse; and Joe Lake stood out a man, strange and crude, + but with a heart and a soul. + </p> + <p> + “Joe, tell me what to do,” said Shefford, with a simplicity that meant he + needed only to be directed. + </p> + <p> + “Pull yourself together. Get your nerve back,” replied Joe. “Reckon you'd + better show yourself over there. No one saw you come in this morning—your + absence from camp isn't known. It's better you seem curious and shocked + like the rest of us. Come on. We'll go over. And afterward we'll get the + Indian, and plan.” + </p> + <p> + They left camp and, crossing the brook, took the shaded path toward the + village. Hope of saving Fay, the need of all his strength and nerve and + cunning to effect that end, gave Shefford the supreme courage to overcome + his horror and fear. On that short walk under the pinyons to Fay's cabin + he had suffered many changes of emotion, but never anything like this + change which made him fierce and strong to fight, deep and crafty to plan, + hard as iron to endure. + </p> + <p> + The village appeared very quiet, though groups of women stood at the doors + of cabins. If they talked, it was very low. Henninger and Smith, two of + the three Mormon men living in the village, were standing before the + closed door of the school-house. A tigerish feeling thrilled Shefford when + he saw them on guard there. Shefford purposely avoided looking at Fay's + cabin as long as he could keep from it. When he had to look he saw several + hooded, whispering women in the yard, and Beal, the other Mormon man, + standing in the cabin door. Upon the porch lay the long shape of a man, + covered with blankets. + </p> + <p> + Shefford experienced a horrible curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Beal, I've fetched Shefford over,” said Lake. “He's pretty much cut + up.” + </p> + <p> + Beal wagged a solemn head, but said nothing. His mind seemed absent or + steeped in gloom, and he looked up as one silently praying. + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake strode upon the little porch and, reaching down, he stripped the + blanket from the shrouded form. + </p> + <p> + Shefford saw a sharp, cold, ghastly face. “WAGGONER!” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Lake. + </p> + <p> + Waggoner! Shefford remembered the strange power in his face, and, now that + life had gone, that power was stripped of all disguise. Death, in + Shefford's years of ministry, had lain under his gaze many times and in a + multiplicity of aspects, but never before had he seen it stamped so + strangely. Shefford did not need to be told that here was a man who + believed he had conversed with God on earth, who believed he had a divine + right to rule women, who had a will that would not yield itself to death + utterly. Waggoner, then, was the devil who had come masked to Surprise + Valley, had forced a martyrdom upon Fay Larkin. And this was the Mormon + who had made Fay Larkin a murderess. Shefford had hated him living, and + now he hated him dead. Death here was robbed of all nobility, of pathos, + of majesty. It was only retribution. Wild justice! But alas! that it had + to be meted out by a white-soled girl whose innocence was as great as the + unconscious savagery which she had assimilated from her lonely and wild + environment. Shefford laid a despairing curse upon his own head, and a + terrible remorse knocked at his heart. He had left her alone, this girl in + whom love had made the great change—like a coward he had left her + alone. That curse he visited upon himself because he had been the spirit + and the motive of this wild justice, and his should have been the deed. + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake touched Shefford's arm and pointed at the haft of a knife + protruding from Waggoner's breast. It was a wooden haft. Shefford had seen + it before somewhere. + </p> + <p> + Then he was struck with what perhaps Joe meant him to see—the + singular impression the haft gave of one sweeping, accurate, powerful + stroke. A strong arm had driven that blade home. The haft was sunk deep; + there was a little depression in the cloth; no blood showed; and the + weapon looked as if it could not be pulled out. Shefford's thought went + fatally and irresistibly to Fay Larkin's strong arm. He saw her flash that + white arm and lift the heavy bucket from the spring with an ease he + wondered at. He felt the strong clasp of her hand as she had given it to + him in a flying leap across a crevice upon the walls. Yes, her fine hand + and the round, strong arm possessed the strength to have given that blade + its singular directness and force. The marvel was not in the physical + action. It hid inscrutably in the mystery of deadly passion rising out of + a gentle and sad heart. + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake drew up the blanket and shut from Shefford's fascinated gaze that + spare form, that accusing knife, that face of strange, cruel power. + </p> + <p> + “Anybody been sent for?” asked Lake of Beal. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. An Indian boy went for the Piute. We'll send him to Stonebridge,” + replied the Mormon. + </p> + <p> + “How soon do you expect any one here from Stonebridge?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, mebbe by noon.” + </p> + <p> + “Meantime what's to be done with—this?” + </p> + <p> + “Elder Smith thinks the body should stay right here where it fell till + they come from Stonebridge.” + </p> + <p> + “Waggoner was found here, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Right here.” + </p> + <p> + “Who found him?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother Smith. She came over early. An' the sight made her scream. The + women all came runnin'. Mother Smith had to be put to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Who found—Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Joe, I told you all I knowed once before,” replied the Mormon, + testily. + </p> + <p> + “I've forgotten. Was sort of bewildered. Tell me again.... Who found—her?” + </p> + <p> + “The women folks. She laid right inside the door, in a dead faint. She + hadn't undressed. There was blood on her hands an' a cut or scratch. The + women fetched her to. But she wouldn't talk. Then Elder Smith come an' + took her. They've got her locked up.” + </p> + <p> + Then Joe led Shefford away from the cabin farther on into the village. + When they were halted by the somber, grieving women it was Joe who did the + talking. They passed the school-house, and here Shefford quickened his + step. He could scarcely bear the feeling that rushed over him. And the + Mormon gripped his arm as if he understood. + </p> + <p> + “Shefford, which one of these younger women do you reckon your best + friend? Ruth?” asked Lake, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, by all means. Just lately I haven't seen her often. But we've been + close friends. I think she'd do much for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe there'll be a chance to find out. Maybe we'll need Ruth. Let's have + a word with her. I haven't seen her out among the women.” + </p> + <p> + They stopped at the door of Ruth's cabin. It was closed. When Joe knocked + there came a sound of footsteps inside, a hand drew aside the + window-blind, and presently the door opened. Ruth stood there, dressed in + somber hue. She was a pretty, slender, blue-eyed, brown-haired young + woman. + </p> + <p> + Shefford imagined from her pallor and the set look of shock upon her face, + that the tragedy had affected her more powerfully than it had the other + women. When he remembered that she had been more friendly with Fay Larkin + than any other neighbor, he made sure he was right in his conjecture. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” was Ruth's greeting. + </p> + <p> + “No. We just wanted to say a word. I noticed you've not been out. Do you + know—all about it?” + </p> + <p> + She gave them a strange glance. + </p> + <p> + “Any of the women folks been in?” added Joe. + </p> + <p> + “Hester ran over. She told me through the window. Then I barred my door to + keep the other women out.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” asked Joe, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Please come in,” she said, in reply. + </p> + <p> + They entered, and she closed the door after them. The change that came + over her then was the loosing of restraint. + </p> + <p> + “Joe—what will they do with Mary?” she queried, tensely. + </p> + <p> + The Mormon studied her with dark, speculative eyes. “Hang her!” he + rejoined in brutal harshness. + </p> + <p> + “O Mother of Saints!” she cried, and her hands went up. + </p> + <p> + “You're sorry for Mary, then?” asked Joe, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “My heart is breaking for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so's Shefford's,” said the Mormon, huskily. “And mine's kind of + damn shaky.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth glided to Shefford with a woman's swift softness. + </p> + <p> + “You've been my good—my best friend. You were hers, too. Oh, I know! + ... Can't you do something for her?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope to God I can,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + Then the three stood looking from one to the other, in a strong and subtly + realizing moment drawn together. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth,” whispered Joe, hoarsely, and then he glanced fearfully around, at + the window and door, as if listeners were there. It was certain that his + dark face had paled. He tried to whisper more, only to fail. Shefford + divined the weight of Mormonism that burdened Joe Lake then. Joe was + faithful to a love for Fay Larkin, noble in friendship to Shefford, + desperate in a bitter strait with his own manliness, but the power of that + creed by which he had been raised struck his lips mute. For to speak on + meant to be false to that creed. Already in his heart he had decided, yet + he could not voice the thing. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth”—Shefford took up the Mormon's unfinished whisper—“if we + plan to save her—if we need you—will you help?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth turned white, but an instant and splendid fire shone in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Try me,” she whispered back. “I'll change places with her—so you + can get her away. They can't do much to me.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford wrung her hands. Joe licked his lips and found his voice: “We'll + come back later.” Then he led the way out and Shefford followed. They were + silent all the way back to camp. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega sat in repose where they had left him, a thoughtful, somber + figure. Shefford went directly to the Indian, and Joe tarried at the + camp-fire, where he raked out some red embers and put one upon the bowl of + his pipe. He puffed clouds of white smoke, then found a seat beside the + others. + </p> + <p> + “Shefford, go ahead. Talk. It'll take a deal of talk. I'll listen. Then + I'll talk. It'll be Nas Ta Bega who makes the plan out of it all.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford launched himself so swiftly that he scarcely talked coherently. + But he made clear the points that he must save Fay, get her away from the + village, let her lead him to Surprise Valley, rescue Lassiter and Jane + Withersteen, and take them all out of the country. + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake dubiously shook his head. Manifestly the Surprise Valley part of + the situation presented a new and serious obstacle. It changed the whole + thing. To try to take the three out by way of Kayenta and Durango was not + to be thought of, for reasons he briefly stated. The Red Lake trail was + the only one left, and if that were taken the chances were against + Shefford. It was five days over sand to Red Lake—impossible to hide + a trail—and even with a day's start Shefford could not escape the + hard-riding men who would come from Stonebridge. Besides, after reaching + Red Lake, there were days and days of desert-travel needful to avoid + places like Blue canyon, Tuba, Moencopie, and the Indian villages. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have to risk all that,” declared Shefford, desperately. + </p> + <p> + “It's a fool risk,” retorted Joe. “Listen. By tomorrow noon all of + Stonebridge, more or less, will be riding in here. You've got to get away + to-night with the girl—or never! And to-morrow you've got to find + that Lassiter and the woman in Surprise Valley. This valley must be back, + deep in the canyon country. Well, you've got to come out this way again. + No trail through here would be safe. Why, you'd put all your heads in a + rope!... You mustn't come through this way. It'll have to be tried across + country, off the trails, and that means hell—day-and-night travel, + no camp, no feed for horses—maybe no water. Then you'll have the + best trackers in Utah like hounds on your trail.” + </p> + <p> + When the Mormon ceased his forceful speech there was a silence fraught + with hopeless meaning. He bowed his head in gloom. Shefford, growing sick + again to his marrow, fought a cold, hateful sense of despair. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai!” In his extremity he called to the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “The Navajo has heard,” replied Nas Ta Bega, strangely speaking in his own + language. + </p> + <p> + With a long, slow heave of breast Shefford felt his despair leave him. In + the Indian lay his salvation. He knew it. Joe Lake caught the subtle + spirit of the moment and looked up eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega stretched an arm toward the east, and spoke in Navajo. But + Shefford, owing to the hurry and excitement of his mind, could not + translate. Joe Lake listened, gave a violent start, leaped up with all his + big frame quivering, and then fired question after question at the Indian. + When the Navajo had replied to all, Joe drew himself up as if facing an + irrevocable decision which would wring his very soul. What did he cast off + in that moment? What did he grapple with? Shefford had no means to tell, + except by the instinct which baffled him. But whether the Mormon's trial + was one of spiritual rending or the natural physical fear of a perilous, + virtually impossible venture, the fact was he was magnificent in his + acceptance of it. He turned to Shefford, white, cold, yet glowing. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega believes he can take you down a canyon to the big river—the + Colorado. He knows the head of this canyon. Nonnezoshe Boco it's called—canyon + of the rainbow bridge. He has never been down it. Only two or three living + Indians have ever seen the great stone bridge. But all have heard of it. + They worship it as a god. There's water runs down this canyon and water + runs to the river. Nas Ta Bega thinks he can take you down to the river.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” cried Shefford breathlessly, as Joe paused. + </p> + <p> + “The Indian plans this way. God, it's great!... If only I can do my + end!... He plans to take mustangs to-day and wait with them for you + to-night or to-morrow till you come with the girl. You'll go get Lassiter + and the woman out of Surprise Valley. Then you'll strike east for + Nonnezoshe Boco. If possible, you must take a pack of grub. You may be + days going down—and waiting for me at the mouth of the canyon, at + the river.” + </p> + <p> + “Joe! Where will you be?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll ride like hell for Kayenta, get another horse there, and ride like + hell for the San Juan River. There's a big flatboat at the Durango + crossing. I'll go down the San Juan in that—into the big river. I'll + drift down by day, tie up by night, and watch for you at the mouth of + every canyon till I come to Nonnezoshe Boco.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford could not believe the evidence of his ears. He knew the + treacherous San Juan River. He had heard of the great, sweeping, terrible + red Colorado and its roaring rapids. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it seems impossible!” he gasped. “You'll just lose your life for + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “The Indian will turn the trick, I tell you. Take my hunch. It's nothing + for me to drift down a swift river. I worked a ferry-boat once.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford, to whom flying straws would have seemed stable, caught the + inflection of defiance and daring and hope of the Mormon's spirit. + </p> + <p> + “What then—after you meet us at the mouth of Nonnezoshe Boco?” he + queried. + </p> + <p> + “We'll all drift down to Lee's Ferry. That's at the head of Marble canyon. + We'll get out on the south side of the river, thus avoiding any Mormons at + the ferry. Nas Ta Bega knows the country. It's open desert—on the + other side of these plateaus. He can get horses from Navajos. Then you'll + strike south for Willow Springs.” + </p> + <p> + “Willow Springs? That's Presbrey's trading-post,” said Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Never met him. But he'll see you safe out of the Painted Desert. ... The + thing that worries me most is how not to miss you all at the mouth of + Nonnezoshe. You must have sharp eyes. But I forget the Indian. A bird + couldn't pass him.... And suppose Nonnezoshe Boco has a steep-walled, + narrow mouth opening into a rapids!... Whew! Well, the Indian will figure + that, too. Now, let's put our heads together and plan how to turn this end + of the trick here. Getting the girl!” + </p> + <p> + After a short colloquy it was arranged that Shefford would go to Ruth and + talk to her of the aid she had promised. Joe averred that this aid could + be best given by Ruth going in her somber gown and hood to the + school-house, and there, while Joe and Shefford engaged the guards + outside, she would change apparel and places with Fay and let her come + forth. + </p> + <p> + “What'll they do to Ruth?” demanded Shefford. “We can't accept her + sacrifice if she's to suffer—or be punished.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon Ruth has a strong hunch that she can get away with it. Did you + notice how strange she said that? Well, they can't do much to her. The + bishop may damn her soul. But—Ruth—” + </p> + <p> + Here Lake hesitated and broke off. Not improbably he had meant to say that + of all the Mormon women in the valley Ruth was the least likely to suffer + from punishment inflicted upon her soul. + </p> + <p> + “Anyway, it's our only chance,” went on Joe, “unless we kill a couple of + men. Ruth will gladly take what comes to help you.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; I consent,” replied Shefford, with emotion. “And now after she + comes out—the supposed Ruth—what then?” + </p> + <p> + “You can be natural-like. Go with her back to Ruth's cabin. Then stroll + off into the cedars. Then climb the west wall. Meanwhile Nas Ta Bega will + ride off with a pack of grub and Nack-yal and several other mustangs. + He'll wait for you or you'll wait for him, as the case may be, at some + appointed place. When you're gone I'll jump my horse and hit the trail for + Kayenta and the San Juan.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; that's settled,” said Shefford, soberly. “I'll go at once to + see Ruth. You and Nas Ta Bega decide on where I'm to meet him.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you'd do just as well to walk round and come up to Ruth's from the + other side—instead of going through the village,” suggested Joe. + </p> + <p> + Shefford approached Ruth's cabin in a roundabout way; nevertheless, she + saw him coming before he got there and, opening the door, stood pale, + composed, and quietly bade him enter. Briefly, in low and earnest voice, + Shefford acquainted her with the plan. + </p> + <p> + “You love her so much,” she said, wistfully, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do. Is it too much to ask of you to do this thing?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Do it?” she queried, with a flash of spirit. “Of course I'll do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, I can't thank you. I can't. I've only a faint idea what you're + risking. That distresses me. I'm afraid of what may happen to you.” + </p> + <p> + She gave him another of the strange glances. “I don't risk so much as you + think,” she said, significantly. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + She came close to him, and her hands clasped his arms and she looked up at + him, her eyes darkening and her face growing paler. “Will you swear to + keep my secret?” she asked, very low. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I swear.” + </p> + <p> + “I was one of Waggoner's sealed wives!” + </p> + <p> + “God Almighty!” broke out Shefford, utterly overwhelmed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That's why I say I don't risk so much. I will make up a story to + tell the bishop and everybody. I'll tell that Waggoner was jealous, that + he was brutal to Mary, that I believed she was goaded to her mad deed, + that I thought she ought to be free. They'll be terrible. But what can + they do to me? My husband is dead... and if I have to go to hell to keep + from marrying another married Mormon, I'll go!” + </p> + <p> + In that low, passionate utterance Shefford read the death-blow to the old + Mormon polygamous creed. In the uplift of his spirit, in the joy at this + revelation, he almost forgot the stern matter at hand. Ruth and Joe Lake + belonged to a younger generation of Mormons. Their nobility in this + instance was in part a revolt at the conditions of their lives. Doubt was + knocking at Joe Lake's heart, and conviction had come to this young sealed + wife, bitter and hopeless while she had been fettered, strong and mounting + now that she was free. In a flash of inspiration Shefford saw the old + order changing. The Mormon creed might survive, but that part of it which + was an affront to nature, a horrible yoke on women's necks, was doomed. It + could not live. It could never have survived more than a generation or two + of religious fanatics. Shefford had marked a different force and religious + fervor in the younger Mormons, and now he understood them. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, you talk wildly,” he said. “But I understand. I see. You are free + and you're going to stay free.... It stuns me to think of that man of many + wives. What did you feel when you were told he was dead?” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not think of that. It makes me—wicked. And he was good to + me.... Listen. Last night about midnight he came to my window and woke me. + I got up and let him in. He was in a terrible state. I thought he was + crazy. He walked the floor and called on his saints and prayed. When I + wanted to light a lamp he wouldn't let me. He was afraid I'd see his face. + But I saw well enough in the moonlight. And I knew something had happened. + So I soothed and coaxed him. He had been a man as close-mouthed as a + stone. Yet then I got him to talk.... He had gone to Mary's, and upon + entering, thought he heard some one with her. She didn't answer him at + first. When he found her in her bedroom she was like a ghost. He accused + her. Her silence made him furious. Then he berated her, brought down the + wrath of God upon her, threatened her with damnation. All of which she + never seemed to hear. But when he tried to touch her she flew at him like + a she-panther. That's what he called her. She said she'd kill him! And she + drove him out of her house.... He was all weak and unstrung, and I believe + scared, too, when he came to me. She must have been a fury. Those quiet, + gentle women are furies when they're once roused. Well, I was hours up + with him and finally he got over it. He didn't pray any more. He paced the + room. It was just daybreak when he said the wrath of God had come to him. + I tried to keep him from going back to Mary. But he went.... An hour later + the women ran to tell me he had been found dead at Mary's door.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth—she was mad—driven—she didn't know what she—was + doing,” said Shefford, brokenly. + </p> + <p> + “She was always a strange girl, more like an Indian than any one I ever + knew. We called her the Sago Lily. I gave her the name. She was so sweet, + lovely, white and gold, like those flowers.... And to think! Oh, it's + horrible for her! You must save her. If you get her away there never will + be anything come of it. The Mormons will hush it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, time is flying,” rejoined Shefford, hurriedly. “I must go back to + Joe. You be ready for us when we come. Wear something loose, easily thrown + off, and don't forget the long hood.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be ready and watching,” she said. “The sooner the better, I'd say.” + </p> + <p> + He left her and returned toward camp in the same circling route by which + he had come. The Indian had disappeared and so had his mustang. This + significant fact augmented Shefford's hurried, thrilling excitement. But + one glance at Joe's face changed all that to a sudden numbness, a sinking + of his heart. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Look there!” exclaimed the Mormon. + </p> + <p> + Shefford's quick eye caught sight of horses and men down the valley. He + saw several Indians and three or four white men. They were making camp. + </p> + <p> + “Who are they?” demanded Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Shadd and some of his gang. Reckon that Piute told the news. By to-morrow + the valley will be full as a horse-wrangler's corral.... Lucky Nas Ta Bega + got away before that gang rode in. Now things won't look as queer as they + might have looked. The Indian took a pack of grub, six mustangs, and my + guns. Then there was your rifle in your saddle-sheath. So you'll be well + heeled in case you come to close quarters. Reckon you can look for a + running fight. For now, as soon as your flight is discovered, Shadd will + hit your trail. He's in with the Mormons. You know him—what you'll + have to deal with. But the advantage will all be yours. You can ambush the + trail.” + </p> + <p> + “We're in for it. And the sooner we're off the better,” replied Shefford, + grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon that's gospel. Well—come on!” + </p> + <p> + The Mormon strode off, and Shefford, catching up with him, kept at his + side. Shefford's mind was full, but Joe's dark and gloomy face did not + invite communication. They entered the pinon grove and passed the cabin + where the tragedy had been enacted. A tarpaulin had been stretched across + the front porch. Beal was not in sight, nor were any of the women. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot,” said Shefford, suddenly. “Where am I to meet the Indian?” + </p> + <p> + “Climb the west wall, back of camp,” replied Joe. “Nas Ta Bega took the + Stonebridge trail. But he'll leave that, climb the rocks, then hide the + outfit and come back to watch for you. Reckon he'll see you when you top + the wall.” + </p> + <p> + They passed on into the heart of the village. Joe tarried at the window of + a cabin, and passed a few remarks to a woman there, and then he inquired + for Mother Smith at her house. When they left here the Mormon gave + Shefford a nudge. Then they separated, Joe going toward the school-house, + while Shefford bent his steps in the direction of Ruth's home. + </p> + <p> + Her door opened before he had a chance to knock. He entered. Ruth, white + and resolute, greeted him with a wistful smile. + </p> + <p> + “All ready?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Are you?” he replied, low-voiced. + </p> + <p> + “I've only to put on my hood. I think luck favors you. Hester was here and + she said Elder Smith told some one that Mary hadn't been offered anything + to eat yet. So I'm taking her a little. It'll be a good excuse for me to + get in the school-house to see her. I can throw off this dress and she can + put it on in a minute. Then the hood. I mustn't forget to hide her golden + hair. You know how it flies. But this is a big hood.... Well, I'm ready + now. And—this 's our last time together.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, what can I say—how can I thank you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any thanks. It'll be something to think of always—to + make me happy.... Only I'd like to feel you—you cared a little.” + </p> + <p> + The wistful smile was there, a tremor on the sad lips, and a shadow of + soul-hunger in her eyes. Shefford did not misunderstand her. She did not + mean love, although it was a yearning for real love that she mutely + expressed. + </p> + <p> + “Care! I shall care all my life,” he said, with strong feeling. “I shall + never forget you.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not likely I'll forget you.... Good-by, John!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford took her in his arms and held her close. “Ruth—good-by!” he + said, huskily. + </p> + <p> + Then he released her. She adjusted the hood and, taking up a little tray + which held food covered with a napkin, she turned to the door. He opened + it and they went out. + </p> + <p> + They did not speak another word. + </p> + <p> + It was not a long walk from Ruth's home to the school-house, yet if it + were to be measured by Shefford's emotion the distance would have been + unending. The sacrifice offered by Ruth and Joe would have been noble + under any circumstances had they been Gentiles or persons with no + particular religion, but, considering that they were Mormons, that Ruth + had been a sealed-wife, that Joe had been brought up under the strange, + secret, and binding creed, their action was no less than tremendous in its + import. Shefford took it to mean vastly more than loyalty to him and pity + for Fay Larkin. As Ruth and Joe had arisen to this height, so perhaps + would other young Mormons, have arisen. It needed only the situation, the + climax, to focus these long-insulated, slow-developing and inquiring minds + upon the truth—that one wife, one mother of children, for one man at + one time was a law of nature, love, and righteousness. Shefford felt as if + he were marching with the whole younger generation of Mormons, as if + somehow he had been a humble instrument in the working out of their + destiny, in the awakening that was to eliminate from their religion the + only thing which kept it from being as good for man, and perhaps as true, + as any other religion. + </p> + <p> + And then suddenly he turned the corner of school-house to encounter Joe + talking with the Mormon Henninger. Elder Smith was not present. + </p> + <p> + “Why, hello, Ruth!” greeted Joe. “You've fetched Mary some dinner. Now + that's good of you.” + </p> + <p> + “May I go in?” asked Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon so,” replied Henninger, scratching his head. He appeared to be + tractable, and probably was good-natured under pleasant conditions. “She + ought to have somethin' to eat. An' nobody 'pears—to have remembered + that—we're so set up.” + </p> + <p> + He unbarred the huge, clumsy door and allowed Ruth to pass in. + </p> + <p> + “Joe, you can go in if you want,” he said. “But hurry out before Elder + Smith comes back from his dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Joe mumbled something, gave a husky cough, and then went in. + </p> + <p> + Shefford experienced great difficulty in presenting to this mild Mormon a + natural and unagitated front. When all his internal structure seemed to be + in a state of turmoil he did not see how it was possible to keep the fact + from showing in his face. So he turned away and took aimless steps here + and there. + </p> + <p> + “'Pears like we'd hev rain,” observed Henninger. “It's right warm an' them + clouds are onseasonable.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Shefford. “Hope so. A little rain would be good for the + grass.” + </p> + <p> + “Joe tells me Shadd rode in, an' some of his fellers.” + </p> + <p> + “So I see. About eight in the party.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford was gritting his teeth and preparing to endure the ordeal of + controlling his mind and expression when the door opened and Joe stalked + out. He had his sombrero pulled down so that it hid the upper half of his + face. His lips were a shade off healthy color. He stood there with his + back to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Say, what Mary needs is quiet—to be left alone,” he said. “Ruth + says if she rests, sleeps a little, she won't get fever.... Henninger, + don't let anybody disturb her till night.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Joe,” replied the Mormon. “An' I take it good of Ruth an' you + to concern yourselves.” + </p> + <p> + A slight tap on the inside of the door sent Shefford's pulses to + throbbing. Joe opened it with a strong and vigorous sweep that meant more + than the mere action. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth—reckon you didn't stay long,” he said, and his voice rang + clear. “Sure you feel sick and weak. Why, seeing her flustered even me!” + </p> + <p> + A slender, dark-garbed woman wearing a long black hood stepped uncertainly + out. She appeared to be Ruth. Shefford's heart stood still because she + looked so like Ruth. But she did not step steadily, she seemed dazed, she + did not raise the hooded head. + </p> + <p> + “Go home,” said Joe, and his voice rang a little louder. “Take her home, + Shefford. Or, better, walk her round some. She's faintish .... And see + here, Henninger—” + </p> + <p> + Shefford led the girl away with a hand in apparent carelessness on her + arm. After a few rods she walked with a freer step and then a swifter. He + found it necessary to make that hold on her arm a real one, so as to keep + her from walking too fast. No one, however, appeared to observe them. When + they passed Ruth's house then Shefford began to lose his fear that this + was not Fay Larkin. He was far from being calm or clear-sighted. He + thought he recognized that free step; nevertheless, he could not make + sure. When they passed under the trees, crossed the brook, and turned down + along the west wall, then doubt ceased in Shefford's mind. He knew this + was not Ruth. Still, so strange was his agitation, so keen his suspense, + that he needed confirmation of ear, of eye. He wanted to hear her voice, + to see her face. Yet just as strangely there was a twist of feeling, a + reluctance, a sadness that kept off the moment. + </p> + <p> + They reached the low, slow-swelling slant of wall and started to ascend. + How impossible not to recognize Fay Larkin now in that swift grace and + skill on the steep wall! Still, though he knew her, he perversely clung to + the unreality of the moment. But when a long braid of dead-gold hair + tumbled from under the hood, then his heart leaped. That identified Fay + Larkin. He had freed her. He was taking her away. Then a sadness + embittered his joy. + </p> + <p> + As always before, she distanced him in the ascent to the top. She went on + without looking back. But Shefford had an irresistible desire to took + again and the last time at this valley where he had suffered and loved so + much. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. SURPRISE VALLEY + </h2> + <p> + From the summit of the wall the plateau waved away in red and yellow + ridges, with here and there little valleys green with cedar and pinon. + </p> + <p> + Upon one of these ridges, silhouetted against the sky, appeared the + stalking figure of the Indian. He had espied the fugitives. He disappeared + in a niche, and presently came again into view round a corner of cliff. + Here he waited, and soon Shefford and Fay joined him. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai, it is well,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Shefford eagerly asked for the horses, and Nas Ta Bega silently pointed + down the niche, which was evidently an opening into one of the shallow + canyon. Then he led the way, walking swiftly. It was Shefford, and not + Fay, who had difficulty in keeping close to him. This speed caused + Shefford to become more alive to the business, instead of the feeling, of + the flight. The Indian entered a crack between low cliffs—a very + narrow canyon full of rocks and clumps of cedars—and in a half-hour + or less he came to where the mustangs were halted among some cedars. Three + of the mustangs, including Nack-yal, were saddled; one bore a small pack, + and the remaining two had blankets strapped on their backs. + </p> + <p> + “Fay, can you ride in that long skirt?” asked Shefford. How strange it + seemed that his first words to her were practical when all his impassioned + thought had been only mute! But the instant he spoke he experienced a + relief, a relaxation. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take it off,” replied Fay, just as practically. And in a twinkling + she slipped out of both waist and skirt. She had worn them over the short + white-flannel dress with which Shefford had grown familiar. + </p> + <p> + As Nack-yal appeared to be the safest mustang for her to ride, Shefford + helped her upon him and then attended to the stirrups. When he had + adjusted them to the proper length he drew the bridle over Nack-yal's head + and, upon handing it to her, found himself suddenly looking into her face. + She had taken off the hood, too. The instant there eyes met he realized + that she was strangely afraid to meet his glance, as he was to meet hers. + That seemed natural. But her face was flushed and there were unmistakable + signs upon it of growing excitement, of mounting happiness. Save for that + fugitive glance she would have been the Fay Larkin of yesterday. How he + had expected her to look he did not know, but it was not like this. And + never had he felt her strange quality of simplicity so powerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been here—through this little canyon?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, lots of times.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll be able to lead us to Surprise Valley, you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it. I shall see Uncle Jim and Mother Jane before sunset!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope—you do,” he replied, a little shakily. “Perhaps we'd better + not tell them of the—the—about what happened last night.” + </p> + <p> + Her beautiful, grave, and troubled glance returned to meet his, and he + received a shock that he considered was amaze. And after more swift + consideration he believed he was amazed because that look, instead of + betraying fear or gloom or any haunting shadow of darkness, betrayed + apprehension for him—grave, sweet, troubled love for him. She was + not thinking of herself at all—of what he might think of her, of a + possible gulf between them, of a vast and terrible change in the relation + of soul to soul. He experienced a profound gladness. Though he could not + understand her, he was happy that the horror of Waggoner's death had + escaped her. He loved her, he meant to give his life to her, and right + then and there he accepted the burden of her deed and meant to bear it + without ever letting her know of the shadow between them. + </p> + <p> + “Fay, we'll forget—what's behind us,” he said. “Now to find Surprise + Valley. Lead on. Nack-yal is gentle. Pull him the way you want to go. + We'll follow.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford mounted the other saddled mustang, and they set off, Fay in + advance. Presently they rode out of this canyon up to level cedar-patched, + solid rock, and here Fay turned straight west. Evidently she had been over + the ground before. The heights to which he had climbed with her were up to + the left, great slopes and looming promontories. And the course she chose + was as level and easy as any he could have picked out in that direction. + </p> + <p> + When a mile or more of this up-and-down travel had been traversed Fay + halted and appeared to be at fault. The plateau was losing its rounded, + smooth, wavy characteristics, and to the west grew bolder, more rugged, + more cut up into low crags and buttes. After a long, sweeping glance Fay + headed straight for this rougher country. Thereafter from time to time she + repeated this action. + </p> + <p> + “Fay, how do you know you're going in the right direction?” asked + Shefford, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “I never forget any ground I've been over. I keep my eyes close ahead. All + that seems strange to me is the wrong way. What I've seen, before must be + the right way, because I saw it when they brought me from Surprise + Valley.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford had to acknowledge that she was following an Indian's instinct + for ground he had once covered. + </p> + <p> + Still Shefford began to worry, and finally dropped back to question Nas Ta + Bega. + </p> + <p> + “Bi Nai, she has the eye of a Navajo,” replied the Indian. “Look! + Iron-shod horses have passed here. See the marks in the stone?” + </p> + <p> + Shefford indeed made out faint cut tracks that would have escaped his own + sight. They had been made long ago, but they were unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “She's following the trail by memory—she must remember the stones, + trees, sage, cactus,” said Shefford in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Pictures in her mind,” replied the Indian. + </p> + <p> + Thereafter the farther she progressed the less at fault she appeared and + the faster she traveled. She made several miles an hour, and about the + middle of the afternoon entered upon the more broken region of the + plateau. View became restricted. Low walls, and ruined cliffs of red rock + with cedars at their base, and gullies growing into canyon and canyon + opening into larger ones—these were passed and crossed and climbed + and rimmed in travel that grew more difficult as the going became wilder. + Then there was a steady ascent, up and up all the time, though not steep, + until another level, green with cedar and pinon, was reached. + </p> + <p> + It reminded Shefford of the forest near the mouth of the Sagi. It was so + dense he could not see far ahead of Fay, and often he lost sight of her + entirely. Presently he rode out of the forest into a strip of purple sage. + It ended abruptly, and above that abrupt line, seemingly far away, rose a + long, red wall. Instantly he recognized that to be the opposite wall of a + canyon which as yet he could not see. + </p> + <p> + Fay was acting strangely and he hurried forward. She slipped off Nack-yal + and fell, sprang up and ran wildly, to stand upon a promontory, her arms + uplifted, her hair a mass of moving gold in the wind, her attitude one of + wild and eloquent significance. + </p> + <p> + Shefford ran, too, and as he ran the red wall in his eager sight seemed to + enlarge downward, deeper and deeper, and then it merged into a strip of + green. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly beneath him yawned a red-walled gulf, a deceiving gulf seen + through transparent haze, a softly shining green-and-white valley, + strange, wild, beautiful, like a picture in his memory. + </p> + <p> + “Surprise Valley!” he cried, in wondering recognition. + </p> + <p> + Fay Larkin waved her arms as if they were wings to carry her swiftly + downward, and her plaintive cry fitted the wildness of her manner and the + lonely height where she leaned. + </p> + <p> + Shefford drew her back from the rim. + </p> + <p> + “Fay, we are here,” he said. “I recognize the valley. I miss only one + thing—the arch of stone.” + </p> + <p> + His words seemed to recall her to reality. + </p> + <p> + “The arch? That fell when the wall slipped, in the great avalanche. See! + There is the place. We can get down there. Oh, let us hurry!” + </p> + <p> + The Indian reached the rim and his falcon gaze swept the valley. “Ugh!” he + exclaimed. He, too, recognized the valley that he had vainly sought for + half a year. + </p> + <p> + “Bring the lassos,” said Shefford. + </p> + <p> + With Fay leading, they followed the rim toward the head of the valley. + Here the wall had caved in, and there was a slope of jumbled rock a + thousand feet wide and more than that in depth. It was easy to descend + because there were so many rocks waist-high that afforded a handhold. + Shefford marked, however, that Fay never took advantage of these. More + than once he paused to watch her. Swiftly she went down; she stepped from + rock to rock; lightly she crossed cracks and pits; she ran along the sharp + and broken edge of a long ledge; she poised on a pointed stone and, + sure-footed as a mountain-sheep, she sprang to another that had scarce + surface for a foothold; her moccasins flashed, seemed to hold wondrously + on any angle; and when a rock tipped or slipped with her she leaped to a + surer stand. Shefford watched her performance, so swift, agile, so + perfectly balanced, showing such wonderful accord between eye and foot; + and then when he swept his gaze down upon that wild valley where she had + roamed alone for twelve years he marveled no more. + </p> + <p> + The farther down he got the greater became the size of rocks, until he + found himself amid huge pieces of cliff as large as houses. He lost sight + of Fay entirely, and he anxiously threaded a narrow, winding, descending + way between the broken masses. Finally he came out upon flat rock again. + Fay stood on another rim, looking down. He saw that the slide had moved + far out into the valley, and the lower part of it consisted of great + sections of wall. In fact, the base of the great wall had just moved out + with the avalanche, and this much of it held its vertical position. + Looking upward, Shefford was astounded and thrilled to see how far he had + descended, how the walls leaned like a great, wide, curving, continuous + rim of mountain. + </p> + <p> + “Here! Here!” called Fay. “Here's where they got down—where they + brought me up. Here are the sticks they used. They stuck them in this + crack, down to that ledge.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford ran to her side and looked down. There was a narrow split in this + section of wall and it was perhaps sixty feet in depth. The floor of rock + below led out in a ledge, with a sheer drop to the valley level. + </p> + <p> + As Shefford gazed, pondering on a way to descend lower, the Indian reached + his side. He had no sooner looked than he proceeded to act. Selecting one + of the sticks, which were strong pieces of cedar, well hewn and trimmed, + he jammed it between the walls of the crack till it stuck fast. Then + sitting astride this one he jammed in another some three feet below. When + he got down upon that one it was necessary for Shefford to drop him a + third stick. In a comparatively short time the Indian reached the ledge + below. Then he called for the lassos. Shefford threw them down. His next + move was an attempt to assist Fay, but she slipped out of his grasp and + descended the ladder with a swiftness that made him hold his breath. + Still, when his turn came, her spirit so governed him that he went down as + swiftly, and even leaped sheer the last ten feet. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega and Fay were leaning over the ledge. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the place,” she said, excitedly. “Let me down on the rope.” + </p> + <p> + It took two thirty-foot lassos tied together to reach the floor of the + valley. Shefford folded his vest, put it round Fay, and slipped a loop of + the lasso under her arms. Then he and Nas Ta Bega lowered her to the grass + below. Fay, throwing off the loop, bounded away like a wild creature, + uttering the strangest cries he had ever heard, and she disappeared along + the wall. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go down,” said Shefford to the Indian. “You stay here to help pull + us up.” + </p> + <p> + Hand over hand Shefford descended, and when his feet touched the grass he + experienced a shock of the most singular exultation. + </p> + <p> + “In Surprise Valley!” he breathed, softly. The dream that had come to him + with his friend's story, the years of waiting, wondering, and then the + long, fruitless, hopeless search in the desert uplands—these were in + his mind as he turned along the wall where Fay had disappeared. He faced a + wide terrace, green with grass and moss and starry with strange white + flowers, and dark-foliaged, spear-pointed spruce-trees. Below the terrace + sloped a bench covered with thick copse, and this merged into a forest of + dwarf oaks, and beyond that was a beautiful strip of white aspens, their + leaves quivering in the stillness. The air was close, sweet, warm, + fragrant, and remarkably dry. It reminded him of the air he had smelled in + dry caves under cliffs. He reached a point from where he saw a meadow + dotted with red-and-white-spotted cattle and little black burros. There + were many of them. And he remembered with a start the agony of toil and + peril Venters had endured bringing the progenitors of this stock into the + valley. What a strange, wild, beautiful story it all was! But a story + connected with this valley could not have been otherwise. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the meadow, on the other side of the valley, extended the forest, + and that ended in the rising bench of thicket, which gave place to green + slope and mossy terrace of sharp-tipped spruces—and all this led the + eye irresistibly up to the red wall where a vast, dark, wonderful cavern + yawned, with its rust-colored streaks of stain on the wall, and the queer + little houses of the cliff-dwellers, with their black, vacant, silent + windows speaking so weirdly of the unknown past. + </p> + <p> + Shefford passed a place where the ground had been cultivated, but not as + recently as the last six months. There was a scant shock of corn and many + meager standing stalks. He became aware of a low, whining hum and a + fragrance overpowering in its sweetness. And there round another corner of + wall he came upon an orchard all pink and white in blossom and melodious + with the buzz and hum of innumerable bees. + </p> + <p> + He crossed a little stream that had been dammed, went along a pond, down + beside an irrigation-ditch that furnished water to orchard and vineyard, + and from there he strode into a beautiful cove between two jutting corners + of red wall. It was level and green and the spruces stood gracefully + everywhere. Beyond their dark trunks he saw caves in the wall. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the fragrance of blossom was overwhelmed by the stronger + fragrance of smoke from a wood fire. Swiftly he strode under the spruces. + Quail fluttered before him as tame as chickens. Big gray rabbits scarcely + moved out of his way. The branches above him were full of mockingbirds. + And then—there before him stood three figures. + </p> + <p> + Fay Larkin was held close to the side of a magnificent woman, barbarously + clad in garments made of skins and pieces of blanket. Her face worked in + noble emotion. Shefford seemed to see the ghost of that fair beauty + Venters had said was Jane Withersteen's. Her hair was gray. Near her stood + a lean, stoop-shouldered man whose long hair was perfectly white. His + gaunt face was bare of beard. It had strange, sloping, sad lines. And he + was staring with mild, surprised eyes. + </p> + <p> + The moment held Shefford mute till sight of Fay Larkin's tear-wet face + broke the spell. He leaped forward and his strong hands reached for the + woman and the man. + </p> + <p> + “Jane Withersteen!... Lassiter! I have found you!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, who are you?” she cried, with rich and deep and quivering voice. + “This child came running—screaming. She could not speak. We thought + she had gone mad—and escaped to come back to us.” + </p> + <p> + “I am John Shefford,” he replied, swiftly. “I am a friend of Bern Venters—of + his wife Bess. I learned your story. I came west. I've searched a year. I + found Fay. And we've come to take you away.” + </p> + <p> + “You found Fay? But that masked Mormon who forced her to sacrifice herself + to save us!... What of him? It's not been so many long years—I + remember what my father was—and Dyer and Tull—all those cruel + churchmen.” + </p> + <p> + “Waggoner is dead,” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Dead? She is free! Oh, what—how did he die?” + </p> + <p> + “He was killed.” + </p> + <p> + “Who did it?” + </p> + <p> + “That's no matter,” replied Shefford, stonily, and he met her gaze with + steady eyes. “He's out of the way. Fay was never his wife. Fay's free. + We've come to take you out of the country. We must hurry. We'll be tracked—pursued. + But we've horses and an Indian guide. We'll get away.... I think it better + to leave here at once. There's no telling how soon we'll be hunted. Get + what things you want to take with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—yes—Mother Jane, let us hurry!” cried Fay. “I'm so full—I + can't talk—my heart hurts so!” + </p> + <p> + Jane Withersteen's face shone with an exceedingly radiant light, and a + glory blended with a terrible fear in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Fay! my little Fay!” + </p> + <p> + Lassiter had stood there with his mild, clear blue eyes upon Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “I shore am glad to see you—all,” he drawled, and extended his hand + as if the meeting were casual. “What'd you say your name was?” + </p> + <p> + Shefford repeated it as he met the proffered hand. + </p> + <p> + “How's Bern an' Bess?” Lassiter inquired. + </p> + <p> + “They were well, prosperous, happy when last I saw them.... They had a + baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Now ain't thet fine?... Jane, did you hear? Bess has a baby. An', Jane, + didn't I always say Bern would come back to get us out? Shore it's just + the same.” + </p> + <p> + How cool, easy, slow, and mild this Lassiter seemed! Had the man grown + old, Shefford wondered? The past to him manifestly was only yesterday, and + the danger of the present was as nothing. Looking in Lassiter's face, + Shefford was baffled. If he had not remembered the greatness of this old + gun-man he might have believed that the lonely years in the valley had + unbalanced his mind. In an hour like this coolness seemed inexplicable—assuredly + would have been impossible in an ordinary man. Yet what hid behind that + drawling coolness? What was the meaning of those long, sloping, shadowy + lines of the face? What spirit lay in the deep, mild, clear eyes? Shefford + experienced a sudden check to what had been his first growing impression + of a drifting, broken old man. + </p> + <p> + “Lassiter, pack what little you can carry—mustn't be much—and + we'll get out of here,” said Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “I shore will. Reckon I ain't a-goin' to need a pack-train. We saved the + clothes we wore in here. Jane never thought it no use. But I figgered we + might need them some day. They won't be stylish, but I reckon they'll do + better 'n these skins. An' there's an old coat thet was Venters's.” + </p> + <p> + The mild, dreamy look became intensified in Lassiter's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Did Venters have any hosses when you knowed him?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He had a farm full of horses,” replied Shefford, with a smile. “And there + were two blacks—the grandest horses I ever saw. Black Star and + Night! You remember, Lassiter?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore. I was wonderin' if he got the blacks out. They must be growin' old + by now.... Grand hosses, they was. But Jane had another hoss, a big devil + of a sorrel. His name was Wrangle. Did Venters ever tell you about him—an' + thet race with Jerry Card?” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred times!” replied Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Wrangle run the blacks off their legs. But Jane never would believe thet. + An' I couldn't change her all these years.... Reckon mebbe we'll get to + see them blacks?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I hope—I believe you will,” replied Shefford, feelingly. + </p> + <p> + “Shore won't thet be fine. Jane, did you hear? Black Star an' Night are + livin' an' we'll get to see them.” + </p> + <p> + But Jane Withersteen only clasped Fay in her arms, and looked at Lassiter + with wet and glistening eyes. + </p> + <p> + Shefford told them to hurry and come to the cliff where the ascent from + the valley was to be made. He thought best to leave them alone to make + their preparations and bid farewell to the cavern home they had known for + so long. + </p> + <p> + Then he strolled back along the wall, loitering here to gaze into a cave, + and there to study crude red paintings in the nooks. And sometimes he + halted thoughtfully and did not see anything. At length he rounded a + corner of cliff to espy Nas Ta Bega sitting upon the ledge, reposeful and + watchful as usual. Shefford told the Indian they would be climbing out + soon, and then he sat down to wait and let his gaze rove over the valley. + </p> + <p> + He might have sat there a long while, so sad and reflective and wondering + was his thought, but it seemed a very short time till Fay came in sight + with her free, swift grace, and Lassiter and Jane some distance behind. + Jane carried a small bundle and Lassiter had a sack over his shoulder that + appeared no inconsiderable burden. + </p> + <p> + “Them beans shore is heavy,” he drawled, as he deposited the sack upon the + ground. + </p> + <p> + Shefford curiously took hold of the sack and was amazed to find that a + second and hard muscular effort was required to lift it. + </p> + <p> + “Beans?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Shore,” replied Lassiter. + </p> + <p> + “That's the heaviest sack of beans I ever saw. Why—it's not possible + it can be.... Lassiter, we've a long, rough trail. We've got to pack light—” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I ain't a-goin' to leave this here sack behind. Reckon I've been all + of twelve years in fillin' it,” he declared, mildly. + </p> + <p> + Shefford could only stare at him. + </p> + <p> + “Fay may need them beans,” went on Lassiter. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they're gold.” + </p> + <p> + “Gold!” ejaculated Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Shore. An' they represent some work. Twelve years of diggin' an' + washin'!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford laughed constrainedly. “Well, Lassiter, that alters the case + considerably. A sack of gold nuggets or grains, or beans, as you call + them, certainly must not be left behind.... Come, now, we'll tackle this + climbing job.” + </p> + <p> + He called up to the Indian and, grasping the rope, began to walk up the + first slant, and then by dint of hand-over-hand effort and climbing with + knees and feet he succeeded, with Nas Ta Bega's help, in making the ledge. + Then he let down the rope to haul up the sack and bundle. That done, he + directed Fay to fasten the noose round her as he had fixed it before. When + she had complied he called to her to hold herself out from the wall while + he and Nas Ta Bega hauled her up. + </p> + <p> + “Hold the rope tight,” replied Fay, “I'll walk up.” + </p> + <p> + And to Shefford's amaze and admiration, she virtually walked up that + almost perpendicular wall by slipping her hands along the rope and + stepping as she pulled herself up. There, if never before, he saw the + fruit of her years of experience on steep slopes. Only such experience + could have made the feat possible. + </p> + <p> + Jane had to be hauled up, and the task was a painful one for her. + Lassiter's turn came then, and he showed more strength and agility than + Shefford had supposed him capable of. From the ledge they turned their + attention to the narrow crack with its ladder of sticks. Fay had already + ascended and now hung over the rim, her white face and golden hair framed + vividly in the narrow stream of blue sky above. + </p> + <p> + “Mother Jane! Uncle Jim! You are so slow,” she called. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Fay, we haven't been second cousins to a canyon squirrel all these + years,” replied Lassiter. + </p> + <p> + This upper half of the climb bid fair to be as difficult for Jane, if not + so painful, as the lower. It was necessary for the Indian to go up and + drop the rope, which was looped around her, and then, with him pulling + from above and Shefford assisting Jane as she climbed, she was finally + gotten up without mishap. When Lassiter reached the level they rested a + little while and then faced the great slide of jumbled rocks. Fay led the + way, light, supple, tireless, and Shefford never ceased looking at her. At + last they surmounted the long slope and, winding along the rim, reached + the point where Fay had led out of the cedars. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega, then, was the one to whom Shefford looked for every decision + or action of the immediate future. The Indian said he had seen a pool of + water in a rocky hole, that the day was spent, that here was a little + grass for the mustangs, and it would be well to camp right there. So while + Nas Ta Bega attended to the mustangs Shefford set about such preparations + for camp and supper as their light pack afforded. The question of beds was + easily answered, for the mats of soft needles under pinon and cedar would + be comfortable places to sleep. + </p> + <p> + When Shefford felt free again the sun was setting. Lassiter and Jane were + walking under the trees. The Indian had returned to camp. But Fay was + missing. Shefford imagined he knew where to find her, and upon going to + the edge of the forest he saw her sitting on the promontory. He approached + her, drawn in spite of a feeling that perhaps he ought to stay away. + </p> + <p> + “Fay, would you rather be alone?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + His voice startled her. + </p> + <p> + “I want you,” she replied, and held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + Taking it in his own, he sat beside her. + </p> + <p> + The red sun was at their backs. Surprise Valley lay hazy, dusky, shadowy + beneath them. The opposite wall seemed fired by crimson flame, save far + down at its base, which the sun no longer touched. And the dark line of + red slowly rose, encroaching upon the bright crimson. Changing, + transparent, yet dusky veils seemed to float between the walls; long, red + rays, where the sun shone through notch or crack in the rim, split the + darker spaces; deep down at the floor the forest darkened, the strip of + aspen paled, the meadow turned gray; and all under the shelves and in the + great caverns a purple gloom deepened. Then the sun set. And swiftly + twilight was there below while day lingered above. On the opposite wall + the fire died and the stone grew cold. + </p> + <p> + A canyon night-hawk voiced his lonely, weird, and melancholy cry, and it + seemed to pierce and mark the silence. + </p> + <p> + A pale star, peering out of a sky that had begun to turn blue, marked the + end of twilight. And all the purple shadows moved and hovered and changed + till, softly and mysteriously, they embraced black night. + </p> + <p> + Beautiful, wild, strange, silent Surprise Valley! Shefford saw it before + and beneath him, a dark abyss now, the abode of loneliness. He imagined + faintly what was in Fay Larkin's heart. For the last time she had seen the + sun set there and night come with its dead silence and sweet mystery and + phantom shadows, its velvet blue sky and white trains of stars. + </p> + <p> + He, who had dreamed and longed and searched, found that the hour had been + incalculable for him in its import. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. THE TRAIL TO NONNEZOSHE + </h2> + <p> + When Shefford awoke next morning and sat up on his bed of pinon boughs the + dawn had broken cold with a ruddy gold brightness under the trees. Nas Ta + Bega and Lassiter were busy around a camp-fire; the mustangs were haltered + near by; Jane Withersteen combed out her long, tangled tresses with a + crude wooden comb; and Fay Larkin was not in sight. As she had been + missing from the group at sunset, so she was now at sunrise. Shefford went + out to take his last look at Surprise Valley. + </p> + <p> + On the evening before the valley had been a place of dusky red veils and + purple shadows, and now it was pink-walled, clear and rosy and green and + white, with wonderful shafts of gold slanting down from the notched + eastern rim. Fay stood on the promontory, and Shefford did not break the + spell of her silent farewell to her wild home. A strange emotion abided + with him and he knew he would always, all his life, regret leaving + Surprise Valley. + </p> + <p> + Then the Indian called. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Fay,” said Shefford, gently. + </p> + <p> + And she turned away with dark, haunted eyes and a white, still face. + </p> + <p> + The somber Indian gave a silent gesture for Shefford to make haste. While + they had breakfast the mustangs were saddled and packed. And soon all was + in readiness for the flight. Fay was given Nack-yal, Jane the saddled + horse Shefford had ridden, and Lassiter the Indian's roan. Shefford and + Nas Ta Bega were to ride the blanketed mustangs, and the sixth and last + one bore the pack. Nas Ta Bega set off, leading this horse; the others of + the party lined in behind, with Shefford at the rear. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega led at a brisk trot, and sometimes, on level stretches of + ground, at an easy canter; and Shefford had a grim realization of what + this flight was going to be for these three fugitives, now so unaccustomed + to riding. Jane and Lassiter, however, needed no watching, and showed they + had never forgotten how to manage a horse. The Indian back-trailed + yesterday's path for an hour, then headed west to the left, and entered a + low pass. All parts of this plateau country looked alike, and Shefford was + at some pains to tell the difference of this strange ground from that + which he had been over. In another hour they got out of the rugged, broken + rock to the wind-worn and smooth, shallow canyon. Shefford calculated that + they were coming to the end of the plateau. The low walls slanted lower; + the canyon made a turn; Nas Ta Bega disappeared; and then the others of + the party. When Shefford turned the corner of wall he saw a short strip of + bare, rocky ground with only sky beyond. The Indian and his followers had + halted in a group. Shefford rode to them, halted himself, and in one + sweeping glance realized the meaning of their silent gaze. But immediately + Nas Ta Bega started down; and the mustangs, without word or touch, + followed him. Shefford, however, lingered on the promontory. + </p> + <p> + His gaze seemed impelled and held by things afar—the great + yellow-and-purple corrugated world of distance, now on a level with his + eyes. He was drawn by the beauty and the grandeur of that scene and + transfixed by the realization that he had dared to venture to find a way + through this vast, wild, and upflung fastness. He kept looking afar, + sweeping the three-quartered circle of horizon till his judgment of + distance was confounded and his sense of proportion dwarfed one moment and + magnified the next. Then he withdrew his fascinated gaze to adopt the + Indian's method of studying unlimited spaces in the desert—to look + with slow, contracted eyes from near to far. + </p> + <p> + His companions had begun to zigzag down a long slope, bare of rock, with + yellow gravel patches showing between the scant strips of green, and here + and there a scrub-cedar. Half a mile down, the slope merged into green + level. But close, keen gaze made out this level to be a rolling plain, + growing darker green, with blue lines of ravines, and thin, undefined + spaces that might be mirage. Miles and miles it swept and relied and + heaved to lose its waves in apparent darker level. A round, red rock stood + isolated, marking the end of the barren plain, and farther on were other + round rocks, all isolated, all of different shape. They resembled huge + grazing cattle. But as Shefford gazed, and his sight gained strength from + steadily holding it to separate features these rocks were strangely + magnified. They grew and grew into mounds, castles, domes, crags—great, + red, wind-carved buttes. One by one they drew his gaze to the wall of + upflung rock. He seemed to see a thousand domes of a thousand shapes and + colors, and among them a thousand blue clefts, each one a little mark in + his sight, yet which he knew was a canyon. So far he gained some idea of + what he saw. But beyond this wide area of curved lines rose another wall, + dwarfing the lower, dark red, horizon—long, magnificent in frowning + boldness, and because of its limitless deceiving surfaces, breaks, and + lines, incomprehensible to the sight of man. Away to the eastward began a + winding, ragged, blue line, looping back upon itself, and then winding + away again, growing wider and bluer. This line was the San Juan canyon. + Where was Joe Lake at that moment? Had he embarked yet on the river—did + that blue line, so faint, so deceiving, hold him and the boat? Almost it + was impossible to believe. Shefford followed the blue line all its length, + a hundred miles, he fancied, down toward the west where it joined a dark, + purple, shadowy cleft. And this was the Grand canyon of the Colorado. + Shefford's eye swept along with that winding mark, farther and farther to + the west, round to the left, until the cleft, growing larger and coming + closer, losing its deception, was seen to be a wild and winding canyon. + Still farther to the left, as he swung in fascinated gaze, it split the + wonderful wall—a vast plateau now with great red peaks and yellow + mesas. The canyon was full of purple smoke. It turned, it gaped, it lost + itself and showed again in that chaos of a million cliffs. And then + farther on it became again a cleft, a purple line, at last to fail + entirely in deceiving distance. + </p> + <p> + Shefford imagined there was no scene in all the world to equal that. The + tranquillity of lesser spaces was not here manifest. Sound, movement, + life, seemed to have no fitness here. Ruin was there and desolation and + decay. The meaning of the ages was flung at him, and a man became nothing. + When he had gazed at the San Juan canyon he had been appalled at the + nature of Joe Lake's Herculean task. He had lost hope, faith. The thing + was not possible. But when Shefford gazed at that sublime and majestic + wilderness, in which the Grand canyon was only a dim line, he strangely + lost his terror and something else came to him from across the shining + spaces. If Nas Ta Bega led them safely down to the river, if Joe Lake met + them at the mouth of Nonnezoshe Boco, if they survived the rapids of that + terrible gorge, then Shefford would have to face his soul and the meaning + of this spirit that breathed on the wind. + </p> + <p> + He urged his mustang to the descent of the slope, and as he went down, + slowly drawing nearer to the other fugitives, his mind alternated between + this strange intimation of faith, this subtle uplift of his spirit, and + the growing gloom and shadow in his love for Fay Larkin. Not that he loved + her less, but more! A possible God hovering near him, like the Indian's + spirit-step on the trail, made his soul the darker for Fay's crime, and he + saw with light, with deeper sadness, with sterner truth. + </p> + <p> + More than once the Indian turned on his mustang to look up the slope and + the light flashed from his dark, somber face. Shefford instinctively + looked back himself, and then realized the unconscious motive of the + action. Deep within him there had been a premonition of certain pursuit, + and the Indian's reiterated backward glance had at length brought the + feeling upward. Thereafter, as they descended, Shefford gradually added to + his already wrought emotions a mounting anxiety. + </p> + <p> + No sign of a trail showed where the base of the slope rolled out to meet + the green plain. The earth was gravelly, with dark patches of heavy silt, + almost like cinders; and round, black rocks, flinty and glassy, cracked + away from the hoofs of the mustangs. There was a level bench a mile wide, + then a ravine, and then an ascent, and after that, rounded ridge and + ravine, one after the other, like huge swells of a monstrous sea. Indian + paint-brush vied in its scarlet hue with the deep magenta of cactus. There + was no sage. Soapweed and meager grass and a bunch of cactus here and + there lent the green to that barren; and it was green only at a distance. + Nas Ta Bega kept on a steady, even trot. The sun climbed. The wind rose + and whipped dust from under the mustangs. + </p> + <p> + Shefford looked back often, and the farther out in the plain he reached + the higher loomed the plateau they had descended; and as he faced ahead + again the lower sank the red-domed and castled horizon to the fore. The + ravines became deeper, with dry rock bottoms, and the ridge-tops sharper, + with outcroppings of yellow, crumbling ledges. Once across the central + depression of that plain a gradual ascent became evident, and the round + rocks grew clearer in sight, began to rise shine and grow. And thereafter + every slope brought them nearer. + </p> + <p> + The sun was straight overhead and hot when Nas Ta Bega halted the party + under the first lonely scrub-cedar. They all dismounted to stretch their + limbs, and rest the horses. It was not a talkative group, Lassiter's + comments on the never-ending green plain elicited no response. Jane + Withersteen looked afar with the past in her eyes. Shefford felt Fay's + wistful glance and could not meet it; indeed, he seemed to want to hide + something from her. The Indian bent a falcon gaze on the distant slope, + and Shefford did not like that intent, searching, steadfast watchfulness. + Suddenly Nas Ta Bega stiffened and whipped the halter he held. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + All eyes followed the direction of his dark hand. Puffs of dust rose from + the base of the long slope they had descended; tiny dark specks moved with + the pace of a snail. + </p> + <p> + “Shadd!” added the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “I expected it,” said Shefford, darkly, as he rose. + </p> + <p> + “An' who's Shadd?” drawled Lassiter in his cool, slow speech. + </p> + <p> + Briefly Shefford explained, and then, looking at Nas Ta Bega, he added: + </p> + <p> + “The hardest-riding outfit in the country! We can't get away from them.” + </p> + <p> + Jane Withersteen was silent, but Fay uttered a low cry. Shefford did not + look at either of them. The Indian began swiftly to tighten the + saddle-cinches of his roan, and Shefford did likewise for Nack-yal. Then + Shefford drew his rifle out of the saddle-sheath and Joe Lake's big guns + from the saddle-bag. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Lassiter, maybe you haven't forgotten how to use these,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The old gun-man started as if he had seen ghosts. His hands grew clawlike + as he reached for the guns. He threw open the cylinders, spilled out the + shells, snapped back the cylinders. Then he went through motions too swift + for Shefford to follow. But Shefford heard the hammers falling so swiftly + they blended their clicks almost in one sound. Lassiter reloaded the guns + with a speed comparable with the other actions. A remarkable + transformation had come over him. He did not seem the same man. The mild + eyes had changed; the long, shadowy, sloping lines were tense cords; and + there was a cold, ashy shade on his face. + </p> + <p> + “Twelve years!” he muttered to himself. “I dropped them old guns back + there where I rolled the rock.... Twelve years!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford realized the twelve years were as if they had never been. And he + would rather have had this old gun-man with him than a dozen ordinary men. + </p> + <p> + The Indian spoke rapidly in Navajo, saying that once in the rocks they + were safe. Then, after another look at the distant dust-puffs, he wheeled + his mustang. + </p> + <p> + It was doubtful if the party could have kept near him had they been + responsible for the gait of their mounts. The fact was that the way the + Indian called to his mustang or some leadership in the one rode drew the + others to a like trot or climb or canter. For a long time Shefford did not + turn round; he knew what to expect. And when he did turn he was startled + at the gain made by the pursuers. But he was encouraged as well by the + looming, red, rounded peaks seemingly now so close. He could see the dark + splits between the sloping curved walls, the pinon patches in the + amphitheater under the circled walls. That was a wild place they were + approaching, and, once in there, he believed pursuit would be useless. + However, there were miles to go still, and those hard-riding devils behind + made alarming decrease in the intervening distance. Shefford could see the + horses plainly now. How they made the dust fly! He counted up to six—and + then the dust and moving line caused the others to be indistinguishable. + </p> + <p> + At last only a long, gently rising slope separated the fugitives from that + labyrinthine network of wildly carved rock. But it was the clear air that + made the distance seem short. Mile after mile the mustangs climbed, and + when they were perhaps half-way across that last slope to the rocks the + first horse of the pursuers mounted to the level behind. In a few moments + the whole band was strung out in sight. Nas Ta Bega kept his mustang at a + steady walk, in spite of the gaining pursuers. There came a point, + however, when the Indian, reaching comparatively level ground, put his + mount to a swinging canter. The other mustangs broke into the same gait. + </p> + <p> + It became a race then, with the couple of miles between fugitives and + pursuers only imperceptibly lessened. Nas Ta Bega had saved his mustangs + and Shadd had ridden his to the limit. Shefford kept looking back, + gripping his rifle, hoping it would not come to a fight, yet slowly losing + that reluctance. + </p> + <p> + Sage began to show on the slope, and other kinds of brush and cedars + straggled everywhere. The great rocks loomed closer, the red color mixed + with yellow, and the slopes lengthening out, not so steep, yet infinitely + longer than they had seemed at a distance. + </p> + <p> + Shefford ceased to feel the dry wind in his face. They were already in the + lee of the wall. He could see the rock-squirrels scampering to their + holes. The mustangs valiantly held to the gait, and at last the Indian + disappeared between two rounded comers of cliff. The others were close + behind. Shefford wheeled once more. Shadd and his gang were a mile in the + rear, but coming fast, despite winded horses. + </p> + <p> + Shefford rode around the wall into a widening space thick with cedars. It + ended in a bare slope of smooth rock. Here the Indian dismounted. When the + others came up with him he told them to lead their horses and follow. Then + he began the ascent of the rock. + </p> + <p> + It was smooth and hard, though not slippery. There was not a crack. + Shefford did not see a broken piece of stone. Nas Ta Bega climbed straight + up for a while, and then wound around a swell, to turn this way and that, + always going up. Shefford began to see similar mounds of rock all around + him, of every shape that could be called a curve. There were yellow domes + far above, and small red domes far below. Ridges ran from one hill of rock + to another. There were no abrupt breaks, but holes and pits and caves were + everywhere, and occasionally, deep down, an amphitheater green with cedar + and pinon. The Indian appeared to have a clear idea of where he wanted to + go, though there was no vestige of a trail on those bare slopes. At length + Shefford was high enough to see back upon the plain, but the pursuers were + no longer in sight. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega led to the top of that wall, only to disclose to his followers + another and a higher wall beyond, with a ridged, bare, wild, and scalloped + depression between. Here footing began to be precarious for both man and + beast. When the ascent of the second wall began it was necessary to zigzag + up, slowly and carefully, taking advantage of every level bulge or + depression. They must have consumed half an hour mounting this slope to + the summit. Once there, Shefford drew a sharp breath with both backward + and forward glances. Shadd and his gang, in single file, showed dark upon + the bare stone ridge behind. And to the fore there twisted and dropped and + curved the most dangerous slopes Shefford had ever seen. The fugitives had + reached the height of stone wall, of the divide, and many of the drops + upon this side were perpendicular and too steep to see the bottom. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega led along the ridge-top and then started down, following the + waves in the rock. He came out upon a round promontory from which there + could not have been any turning of a horse. The long slant leading down + was at an angle Shefford declared impossible for the animals. Yet the + Indian started down. His mustang needed urging, but at last edged upon the + steep descent. Shefford and the others had to hold back and wait. It was + thrilling to see the intelligent mustang. He did not step. He slid his + fore hoofs a few inches at a time and kept directly behind the Indian. If + he fell he would knock Nas Ta Bega off his feet and they would both roll + down together. There was no doubt in Shefford's mind that the mustang knew + this as well as the Indian. Foot by foot they worked down to a swelling + bulge, and here Nas Ta Bega left his mustang and came back for the + pack-horse. It was even more difficult to get this beast down. Then the + Indian called for Lassiter and Jane and Fay to come down. Shefford began + to keep a sharp lookout behind and above, and did not see how the three + fared on the slope, but evidently there was no mishap. Nas Ta Bega mounted + the slope again, and at the moment sight of Shadd's dark bays silhouetted + against the sky caused Shefford to call out: + </p> + <p> + “We've got to hurry!” + </p> + <p> + The Indian led one mustang and called to the others. Shefford stepped + close behind. They went down in single file, inch by inch, foot by foot, + and safely reached the comparative level below. + </p> + <p> + “Shadd's gang are riding their horses up and down these walls!” exclaimed + Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Shore,” replied Lassiter. + </p> + <p> + Both the women were silent. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega led the way swiftly to the right. He rounded a huge dome, + climbed a low, rolling ridge, descended and ascended, and came out upon + the rim of a steep-walled amphitheater. Along the rim was a yard-wide + level, with the chasm to the left and steep slope to the right. There was + no time to flinch at the danger, when an even greater danger menaced from + the rear. Nas Ta Bega led, and his mustang kept at his heels. One misstep + would have plunged the animal to his death. But he was surefooted and his + confidence helped the others. At the apex of the curve the only course led + away from the rim, and here there was no level. Four of the mustangs + slipped and slid down the smooth rock until they stopped in a shallow + depression. It cost time to get them out, to straighten pack and saddles. + Shefford thought he heard a yell in the rear, but he could not see + anything of the gang. + </p> + <p> + They rounded this precipice only to face a worse one. Shefford's nerve was + sorely tried when he saw steep slants everywhere, all apparently leading + down into chasms, and no place a man, let alone a horse, could put a foot + with safety. Nevertheless the imperturbable Indian never slacked his pace. + Always he appeared to find a way, and he never had to turn back. His + winding course, however, did not now cover much distance in a straight + line, and herein lay the greatest peril. Any moment Shadd and his men + might come within range. + </p> + <p> + Upon a particularly tedious and dangerous side of rocky hill the fugitives + lost so much time that Shefford grew exceedingly alarmed. Still, they + accomplished it without accident, and their pursuers did not heave in + sight. Perhaps they were having trouble in a bad place. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon was waning. The red sun hung low above the yellow mesa to + the left, and there was a perceptible shading of light. + </p> + <p> + At last Nas Ta Bega came to a place that halted him. It did not look so + bad as places they had successfully passed. Yet upon closer study Shefford + did not see how they were to get around the neck of the gully at their + feet. Presently the Indian put the bridle over the head of his mustang and + left him free. He did likewise for two more mustangs, while Lassiter and + Shefford rendered a like service to theirs. Then the Indian started down, + with his mustang following him. The pack-animal came next, then Fay and + Nack-yal, then Lassiter and his mount, with Jane and hers next, and + Shefford last. They followed the Indian, picking their steps swiftly, + looking nowhere except at the stone under their feet. The right side of + the chasm was rimmed, the curve at the head crossed, and then the real + peril of this trap had to be faced. It was a narrow slant of ledge, + doubling back parallel with the course already traversed. + </p> + <p> + A sharp warning cry from Nas Ta Bega scarcely prepared Shefford for hoarse + yells, and then a rattling rifle-volley from the top of the slope + opposite. Bullets thudded on the cliff, whipped up red dust, and spanged + and droned away. + </p> + <p> + Fay Larkin screamed and staggered back against the wall. Nack-yal was hit, + and with frightened snort he reared, pawed the air, and came down, + pounding the stone. The mustang behind him went to his knees, sank with + his head over the rim, and, slipping off, plunged into the depths. In an + instant a dull crash came up. + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was imminent peril for the horses, more in the yawning + hole than in the spanging of badly aimed bullets. Lassiter drew Jane up a + little slope out of the way of the frightened mustangs, and Shefford, + risking his neck, rushed to Fay. She was holding her arm, which was + bleeding. Unheeding the rain of bullets, he half carried, half dragged her + along the slope of the low bluff, where he hid behind a corner till the + Indian drove the mustangs round it. Shefford's swift fingers were wet and + red with the blood from Fay's arm when he had bound the wound with his + scarf. Lassiter had gotten around with Jane and was calling Shefford to + hurry. + </p> + <p> + It had been Shefford's idea to halt there and fight. But he did not want + to send Fay on alone, so he hurried ahead with her. The Indian had the + horses going fast on a long level, overhung by bulging wall. Lassiter and + Jane were looking back. Shefford, becoming aware of a steep slope to his + left, looked down to see a narrow chasm and great crevices in the cliffs, + with bunches of cedars here and there. + </p> + <p> + Presently Nas Ta Bega disappeared with the mustangs. He had evidently + turned off to go down behind the split cliffs. Shefford and Fay caught up + with Lassiter and Jane, and, panting, hurrying, looking backward and then + forward, they kept on, as best they could, in the Indian's course. + Shefford made sure they had lost him, when he appeared down to the left. + Then they all ran to catch up with him. They went around the chasm, and + then through one of the narrow cracks to come out upon the rim, among + cedars. Here the Indian waited for them. He pointed down another long + swell of naked stone to a narrow green split which was evidently different + from all these curved pits and holes and abysses, for this one had + straight walls and wound away out of sight. It was the head of a canyon. + </p> + <p> + “Nonnezoshe Boco!” said the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, go on!” replied Shefford. “When Shadd comes out on that + slope above he can't see you—where you go down. Hurry on with the + horses and women. Lassiter, you go with them. And if Shadd passes me and + comes up with you—do your best.... I'm going to ambush that Piute + and his gang!” + </p> + <p> + “Shore you've picked out a good place,” replied Lassiter. + </p> + <p> + In another moment Shefford was alone. He heard the light, soft pat and + slide of the hoofs of the mustangs as they went down. Presently that sound + ceased. + </p> + <p> + He looked at the red stain on his hands—from the blood of the girl + he loved. And he had to stifle a terrible wrath that shook his frame. In + regard to Shadd's pursuit, it had not been blood that he had feared, but + capture for Fay. He and Nas Ta Bega might have expected a shot if they + resisted, but to wound that unfortunate girl—it made a tiger out of + him. When he had stilled the emotions that weakened and shook him and + reached cold and implacable control of himself, he crawled under the + cedars to the rim and, well hidden, he watched and waited. + </p> + <p> + Shadd appeared to be slow for the first time since he had been sighted. + With keen eyes Shefford watched the corner where he and the others had + escaped from that murderous volley. But Shadd did not come. + </p> + <p> + The sun had lost its warmth and was tipping the lofty mesa to his right. + Soon twilight would make travel on those walls more perilous and darkness + would make it impossible. Shadd must hurry or abandon the pursuit for that + day. Shefford found himself grimly hopeful. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he heard the click of hoofs. It came, faint yet clear, on the + still air. He glued his sight upon that corner where he expected the + pursuers to appear. More cracks of hoofs pierced his ear, clearer and + sharper this time. Presently he gathered that they could not possibly come + from beyond the corner he was watching. So he looked far to the left of + that place, seeing no one, then far to the right. Out over a bulge of + stone he caught sight of the bobbing head of a horse—then another—and + still another. + </p> + <p> + He was astounded. Shadd had gone below that place where the attack had + been made and he had come up this steep slope. More horses appeared—to + the number of eight. Shefford easily recognized a low, broad, squat rider + to be Shadd. Assuredly the Piute did not know this country. Possibly, + however, he had feared an ambush. But Shefford grew convinced that Shadd + had not expected an ambush, or at least did not fear it, and had mistaken + the Indian's course. Moreover, if he led his gang a few rods farther up + that slope he would do worse than make a mistake—he would be facing + a double peril. + </p> + <p> + What fearless horsemen these Indians were! Shadd was mounted, as were + three others of his gang. Evidently the white men, the outlaws, were the + ones on foot. Shefford thrilled and his veins stung when he saw these + pursuers come passing what he considered the danger mark. But manifestly + they could not see their danger. Assuredly they were aware of the chasm; + however, the level upon which they were advancing narrowed gradually, and + they could not tell that very soon they could not go any farther nor could + they turn back. The alternative was to climb the slope, and that was a + desperate chance. + </p> + <p> + They came up, now about on a level with Shefford, and perhaps three + hundred yards distant. He gripped his rifle with a fatal assurance that he + could kill one of them now. Still he waited. Curiosity consumed him + because every foot they advanced heightened their peril. Shefford wondered + if Shadd would have chosen that course if he had not supposed the Navajo + had chosen it first. It was plain that one of the walking Piutes stooped + now and then to examine the rock. He was looking for some faint sign of a + horse track. + </p> + <p> + Shadd halted within two hundred yards of where Shefford lay hidden. His + keen eye had caught the significance of the narrowing level before he had + reached the end. He pointed and spoke. Shefford heard his voice. The + others replied. They all looked up at the steep slope, down into the chasm + right below them, and across into the cedars. The Piute in the rear + succeeded in turning his horse, went back, and began to circle up the + slope. The others entered into an argument and they became more closely + grouped upon the narrow bench. Their mustangs were lean, wiry, wild, + vicious, and Shefford calculated grimly upon what a stampede might mean in + that position. + </p> + <p> + Then Shadd turned his mustang up the slope. Like a goat he climbed. + Another Indian in the rear succeeded in pivoting his steed and started + back, apparently to circle round and up. The others of the gang appeared + uncertain. They yelled hoarsely at Shadd, who halted on the steep slant + some twenty paces above them. He spoke and made motions that evidently + meant the climb was easy enough. It looked easy for him. His dark face + flashed red in the rays of the sun. + </p> + <p> + At this critical moment Shefford decided to fire. He meant to kill Shadd, + hoping if the leader was gone the others would abandon the pursuit. The + rifle wavered a little as he aimed, then grew still. He fired. Shadd never + flinched. But the fiery mustang, perhaps wounded, certainly terrified, + plunged down with piercing, horrid scream. Shadd fell under him. Shrill + yells rent the air. Like a thunderbolt the sliding horse was upon men and + animals below. + </p> + <p> + A heavy shock, wild snorts, upflinging heads and hoofs, a terrible + tramping, thudding, shrieking melee, then a brown, twisting, tangled mass + shot down the slant over the rim! + </p> + <p> + Shefford dazedly thought he saw men running. He did see plunging horses. + One slipped, fell, rolled, and went into the chasm. + </p> + <p> + Then up from the depths came a crash, a long, slipping roar. In another + instant there was a lighter crash and a lighter sliding roar. + </p> + <p> + Two horses, shaking, paralyzed with fear, were left upon the narrow level. + Beyond them a couple of men were crawling along the stone. Up on the level + stood the two Indians, holding down frightened horses, and staring at the + fatal slope. + </p> + <p> + And Shefford lay there under the cedar, in the ghastly grip of the moment, + hardly comprehending that his ill-aimed shot had been a thunderbolt. + </p> + <p> + He did not think of shooting at the Piutes; they, however, recovering from + their shock, evidently feared the ambush, for they swiftly drew up the + slope and passed out of sight. The frightened horses below whistled and + tramped along the lower level, finally vanishing. There was nothing left + on the bare wall to prove to Shefford that it had been the scene of swift + and tragic death. He leaned from his covert and peered over the rim. + Hundreds of feet below he saw dark growths of pinyons. There was no sign + of a pile of horses and men, and then he realized that he could not tell + the number that had perished. The swift finale had been as stunning to him + as if lightning had struck near him. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly it flashed over him what state of suspense and torture Fay and + Jane must be in at that very moment. And, leaping up, he ran out of the + cedars to the slope behind and hurried down at risk of limb. The sun had + set by this time. He hoped he could catch up with the party before dark. + He went straight down, and the end of the slope was a smooth, low wall. + The Indian must have descended with the horses at some other point. The + canyon was about fifty yards wide and it headed under the great slope of + Navajo Mountain. These smooth, rounded walls appeared to end at its low + rim. + </p> + <p> + Shefford slid down upon a grassy bank, and finding the tracks of the + horses, he followed them. They led along the wall. As soon as he had + assured himself that Nas Ta Bega had gone down the canyon he abandoned the + tracks and pushed ahead swiftly. He heard the soft rush of running water. + In the center of the canyon wound heavy lines of bright-green foliage, + bordering a rocky brook. The air was close, warm, and sweet with perfume + of flowers. The walls were low and shelving, and soon lost that rounded + appearance peculiar to the wind-worn slopes above. Shefford came to where + the horses had plowed down a gravelly bank into the clear, swift water of + the brook. The little pools of water were still muddy. Shefford drank, + finding the water cold and sweet, without the bitter bite of alkali. He + crossed and pushed on, running on the grassy levels. Flowers were + everywhere, but he did not notice them particularly. The canyon made many + leisurely turns, and its size, if it enlarged at all, was not perceptible + to him yet. The rims above him were perhaps fifty feet high. + Cottonwood-trees began to appear along the brook, and blossoming + buck-brush in the corners of wall. + </p> + <p> + He had traveled perhaps a mile when Nas Ta Bega, appearing to come out of + the thicket, confronted him. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” called Shefford. “Where're Fay—and the others?” + </p> + <p> + The Indian made a gesture that signified the rest of the party were beyond + a little way. Shefford took Nas Ta Bega's arm, and as they walked, and he + panted for breath, he told what had happened back on the slopes. + </p> + <p> + The Indian made one of his singular speaking sweeps of hand, and he + scrutinized Shefford's face, but he received the news in silence. They + turned a corner of wall, crossed a wide, shallow, boulder-strewn place in + the brook, and mounted the bank to a thicket. Beyond this, from a clump of + cottonwoods, Lassiter strode out with a gun in each hand. He had been + hiding. + </p> + <p> + “Shore I'm glad to see you,” he said, and the eyes that piercingly fixed + on Shefford were now as keen as formerly they had been mild. + </p> + <p> + “Gone! Lassiter—they're gone,” broke out Shefford. “Where's Fay—and + Jane?” + </p> + <p> + Lassiter called, and presently the women came out of the thick brake, and + Fay bounded forward with her swift stride, while Jane followed with eager + step and anxious face. Then they all surrounded Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “It was Shadd—and his gang,” panted Shefford. “Eight in all. Three + or four Piutes—the others outlaws. They lost track of us. Went below + the place—where they shot at us. And they came up—on a bad + slope.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford described the slope and the deep chasm and how Shadd led up to + the point where he saw his mistake and then how the catastrophe fell. + </p> + <p> + “I shot—and missed,” repeated Shefford, with the sweat in beads on + his pale face. “I missed Shadd. Maybe I hit the horse. He plunged—reared—fell + back—a terrible fall—right upon that bunch of horses and men + below.... In a horrible, wrestling, screaming tangle they slid over the + rim! I don't know how many. I saw some men running along. I saw three + other horses plunging. One slipped and went over. ... I have no idea how + many, but Shadd and some of his gang went to destruction.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore thet's fine!” said Lassiter. “But mebbe I won't get to use them + guns, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly on that gang,” laughed Shefford. “The two Piutes and what others + escaped turned back. Maybe they'll meet a posse of Mormons—for of + course the Mormons will track us, too—and come back to where Shadd + lost his life. That's an awful place. Even the Piute got lost—couldn't + follow Nas Ta Bega. It would take any pursuers some time to find how we + got in here. I believe we need not fear further pursuit. Certainly not + to-night or to-morrow. Then we'll be far down the canyon.” + </p> + <p> + When Shefford concluded his earnest remarks the faces of Fay and Jane had + lost the signs of suppressed dread. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, make camp here,” said Shefford. “Water—wood—grass—why, + this 's something like.... Fay, how's your arm?” + </p> + <p> + “It hurts,” she replied, simply. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me down to the brook and let me wash and bind it properly.” + </p> + <p> + They went, and she sat upon a stone while he knelt beside her and untied + his scarf from her arm. As the blood had hardened, it was necessary to + slit her sleeve to the shoulder. Using his scarf, he washed the blood from + the wound, and found it to be merely a cut, a groove, on the surface. + </p> + <p> + “That's nothing,” Shefford said, lightly. “It'll heal in a day. But + there'll always be a scar. And when we—we get back to civilization, + and you wear a pretty gown without sleeves, people will wonder what made + this mark on your beautiful arm.” + </p> + <p> + Fay looked at him with wonderful eyes. “Do women wear gowns without + sleeves?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “They do.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I a—beautiful arm?” + </p> + <p> + She stretched it out, white, blue-veined, the skin fine as satin, the + lines graceful and flowing, a round, firm, strong arm. + </p> + <p> + “The most beautiful I ever saw,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + But the pleasure his compliment gave her was not communicated to him. His + last impression of that right arm had been of its strength, and his mind + flashed with lightning swiftness to a picture that haunted him—Waggoner + lying dead on the porch with that powerfully driven knife in his breast. + Shefford shuddered through all his being. Would this phantom come often to + him like that? Hurriedly he bound up her arm with the scarf and did not + look at her, and was conscious that she felt a subtle change in him. + </p> + <p> + The short twilight ended with the fugitives comfortable in a camp that for + natural features could not have been improved upon. Darkness found Fay and + Jane asleep on a soft mossy bed, a blanket tucked around them, and their + faces still and beautiful in the flickering camp-fire light. Lassiter did + not linger long awake. Nas Ta Bega, seeing Shefford's excessive fatigue, + urged him to sleep. Shefford demurred, insisting that he share the + night-watch. But Nas Ta Bega, by agreeing that Shefford might have the + following night's duty, prevailed upon him. + </p> + <p> + Shefford seemed to shut his eyes upon darkness and to open them + immediately to the light. The stream of blue sky above, the gold tints on + the western rim, the rosy, brightening colors down in the canyon, were + proofs of the sunrise. This morning Nas Ta Bega proceeded leisurely, and + his manner was comforting. When all was in readiness for a start he gave + the mustang he had ridden to Shefford, and walked, leading the + pack-animal. + </p> + <p> + The mode of travel here was a selection of the best levels, the best + places to cross the brook, the best banks to climb, and it was a process + of continual repetition. As the Indian picked out the course and the + mustangs followed his lead there was nothing for Shefford to do but take + his choice between reflection that seemed predisposed toward gloom and an + absorption in the beauty, color, wildness, and changing character of + Nonnezoshe Boco. + </p> + <p> + Assuredly his experience in the desert did not count in it a trip down + into a strange, beautiful, lost canyon such as this. It did not widen, + though the walls grew higher. They began to lean and bulge, and the narrow + strip of sky above resembled a flowing blue river. Huge caverns had been + hollowed out by some work of nature, what, he could not tell, though he + was sure it could not have been wind. And when the brook ran close under + one of these overhanging places the running water made a singular, + indescribable sound. A crack from a hoof on a stone rang like a hollow + bell and echoed from wall to wall. And the croak of a frog—the only + living creature he had so far noted in the canyon—was a weird and + melancholy thing. + </p> + <p> + Fay rode close to him, and his heart seemed to rejoice when she spoke, + when she showed how she wanted to be near him, yet, try as he might, he + could not respond. His speech to her—what little there was—did + not come spontaneously. And he suffered a remorse that he could not be + honestly natural to her. Then he would drive away the encroaching gloom, + trusting that a little time would dispel it. + </p> + <p> + “We are deeper down than Surprise Valley,” said Fay. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Here are the pink and yellow sago-lilies. You remember we went once to + find the white ones? I have found white lilies in Surprise Valley, but + never any pink or yellow.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford had seen flowers all along the green banks, but he had not marked + the lilies. Here he dismounted and gathered several. They were larger than + the white ones of higher altitudes, of the same exquisite beauty and + fragility, of such rare pink and yellow hues as he had never seen. He gave + the flowers to Fay. + </p> + <p> + “They bloom only where it's always summer,” she said. + </p> + <p> + That expressed their nature. They were the orchids of the summer canyon. + They stood up everywhere starlike out of the green. It was impossible to + prevent the mustangs treading them under hoof. And as the canyon deepened, + and many little springs added their tiny volume to the brook, every grassy + bench was dotted with lilies, like a green sky star-spangled. And this + increasing luxuriance manifested itself in the banks of purple moss and + clumps of lavender daisies and great clusters of yellow violets. The brook + was lined by blossoming buck-rush; the rocky corners showed the crimson + and magenta of cactus; ledges were green with shining moss that sparkled + with little white flowers. The hum of bees filled the air. + </p> + <p> + But by and by this green and colorful and verdant beauty, the almost level + floor of the canyon, the banks of soft earth, the thickets and the clumps + of cotton-woods, the shelving caverns and the bulging walls—these + features gradually were lost, and Nonnezoshe Boco began to deepen in bare + red and white stone steps, the walls sheered away from one another, + breaking into sections and ledges, and rising higher and higher, and there + began to be manifested a dark and solemn concordance with the nature that + had created this rent in the earth. + </p> + <p> + There was a stretch of miles where steep steps in hard red rock alternated + with long levels of round boulders. Here one by one the mustangs went + lame. And the fugitives, dismounting to spare the faithful beasts, slipped + and stumbled over these loose and treacherous stones. Fay was the only one + who did not show distress. She was glad to be on foot again and the + rolling boulders were as stable as solid rock for her. + </p> + <p> + The hours passed; the toil increased; the progress diminished; one of the + mustangs failed entirely and was left; and all the while the dimensions of + Nonnezoshe Boco magnified and its character changed. It became a + thousand-foot walled canyon, leaning, broken, threatening, with great + yellow slides blocking passage, with huge sections split off from the main + wall, with immense dark and gloomy caverns. Strangely, it had no + intersecting canyon. It jealously guarded its secret. Its unusual + formations of cavern and pillar and half-arch led the mind to expect any + monstrous stone-shape left by an avalanche or cataclysm. + </p> + <p> + Down and down the fugitives toiled. And now the stream-bed was bare of + boulders, and the banks of earth. The floods that had rolled down that + canyon had here borne away every loose thing. All the floor was bare red + and white stone, polished, glistening, slippery, affording treacherous + foothold. And the time came when Nas Ta Bega abandoned the stream-bed to + take to the rock-strewn and cactus-covered ledges above. + </p> + <p> + Jane gave out and had to be assisted upon the weary mustang. Fay was + persuaded to mount Nack-yal again. Lassiter plodded along. The Indian bent + tired steps far in front. And Shefford traveled on after him, footsore and + hot. + </p> + <p> + The canyon widened ahead into a great, ragged, iron-hued amphitheater, and + from there apparently turned abruptly at right angles. Sunset rimmed the + walls. Shefford wondered dully when the Indian would halt to camp. And he + dragged himself onward with eyes down on the rough ground. + </p> + <p> + When he raised them again the Indian stood on a point of slope with folded + arms, gazing down where the canyon veered. Something in Nas Ta Bega's pose + quickened Shefford's pulse and then his steps. He reached the Indian and + the point where he, too, could see beyond that vast jutting wall that had + obstructed his view. + </p> + <p> + A mile beyond all was bright with the colors of sunset, and spanning the + canyon in the graceful shape arid beautiful hues of a rainbow was a + magnificent stone bridge. + </p> + <p> + “Nonnezoshe!” exclaimed the Navajo, with a deep and sonorous roll in his + voice. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW + </h2> + <p> + The rainbow bridge was the one great natural phenomenon, the one grand + spectacle, which Shefford had ever seen that did not at first give vague + disappointment, a confounding of reality, a disenchantment of contrast + with what the mind had conceived. + </p> + <p> + But this thing was glorious. It silenced him, yet did not awe or stun. His + body and brain, weary and dull from the toil of travel, received a + singular and revivifying freshness. He had a strange, mystic perception of + this rosy-hued stupendous arch of stone, as if in a former life it had + been a goal he could not reach. This wonder of nature, though + all-satisfying, all-fulfilling to his artist's soul, could not be a + resting-place for him, a destination where something awaited him, a height + he must scale to find peace, the end of his strife. But it seemed all + these. He could not understand his perception or his emotion. Still, here + at last, apparently, was the rainbow of his boyish dreams and of his + manhood—a rainbow magnified even beyond those dreams, no longer + transparent and ethereal, but solidified, a thing of ages, sweeping up + majestically from the red walls, its iris-hued arch against the blue sky. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega led on down the ledge and Shefford plodded thoughtfully after + him. The others followed. A jutting corner of wall again hid the canyon. + The Indian was working round to circle the huge amphitheater. It was slow, + irritating, strenuous toil, for the way was on a steep slant, rough and + loose and dragging. The rocks were as hard and jagged as lava. And the + cactus further hindered progress. When at last the long half-circle had + been accomplished the golden and rosy lights had faded. + </p> + <p> + Again the canyon opened to view. All the walls were pale and steely and + the stone bridge loomed dark. Nas Ta Bega said camp would be made at the + bridge, which was now close. Just before they reached it the Navajo halted + with one of his singular actions. Then he stood motionless. Shefford + realized that Nas Ta Bega was saying his prayer to this great stone god. + Presently the Indian motioned for Shefford to lead the others and the + horses on under the bridge. Shefford did so, and, upon turning, was amazed + to see the Indian climbing the steep and difficult slope on the other + side. All the party watched him until he disappeared behind the huge base + of cliff that supported the arch. Shefford selected a level place for + camp, some few rods away, and here, with Lassiter, unsaddled and unpacked + the lame, drooping mustangs. When this was done twilight had fallen. Nas + Ta Bega appeared, coming down the steep slope on this side of the bridge. + Then Shefford divined why the Navajo had made that arduous climb. He would + not go under the bridge. Nonnezoshe was a Navajo god. And Nas Ta Bega, + though educated as a white man, was true to the superstition of his + ancestors. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega turned the mustangs loose to fare for what scant grass grew on + bench and slope. Firewood was even harder to find than grass. When the + camp duties had been performed and the simple meal eaten there was gloom + gathering in the canyon and the stars had begun to blink in the pale strip + of blue above the lofty walls. The place was oppressive and the fugitives + mostly silent. Shefford spread a bed of blankets for the women, and Jane + at once lay wearily down. Fay stood beside the flickering fire, and + Shefford felt her watching him. He was conscious of a desire to get away + from her haunting gaze. To the gentle good-night he bade her she made no + response. + </p> + <p> + Shefford moved away into a strange dark shadow cast by the bridge against + the pale starlight. It was a weird, black belt, where he imagined he was + invisible, but out of which he could see. There was a slab of rock near + the foot of the bridge, and here Shefford composed himself to watch, to + feel, to think the unknown thing that seemed to be inevitably coming to + him. + </p> + <p> + A slight stiffening of his neck made him aware that he had been + continually looking up at the looming arch. And he found that insensibly + it had changed and grown. It had never seemed the same any two moments, + but that was not what he meant. Near at hand it was too vast a thing for + immediate comprehension. He wanted to ponder on what had formed it—to + reflect upon its meaning as to age and force of nature, yet all he could + do at each moment was to see. White stars hung along the dark curved line. + The rim of the arch seemed to shine. The moon must be up there somewhere. + The far side of the canyon was now a blank, black wall. Over its towering + rim showed a pale glow. It brightened. The shades in the canyon lightened, + then a white disk of moon peered over the dark line. The bridge turned to + silver, and the gloomy, shadowy belt it had cast blanched and vanished. + </p> + <p> + Shefford became aware of the presence of Nas Ta Bega. Dark, silent, + statuesque, with inscrutable eyes uplifted, with all that was spiritual of + the Indian suggested by a somber and tranquil knowledge of his place + there, he represented the same to Shefford as a solitary figure of human + life brought out the greatness of a great picture. Nonnezoshe Boco needed + life, wild life, life of its millions of years—and here stood the + dark and silent Indian. + </p> + <p> + There was a surge in Shefford's heart and in his mind a perception of a + moment of incalculable change to his soul. And at that moment Fay Larkin + stole like a phantom to his side and stood there with her uncovered head + shining and her white face lovely in the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “May I stay with you—a little?” she asked, wistfully. “I can't + sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you may,” he replied. “Does your arm hurt too badly, or are you + too tired to sleep?” + </p> + <p> + “No—it's this place. I—I—can't tell you how I feel.” + </p> + <p> + But the feeling was there in her eyes for Shefford to read. Had he too + great an emotion—did he read too much—did he add from his + soul? For him the wild, starry, haunted eyes mirrored all that he had seen + and felt under Nonnezoshe. And for herself they shone eloquently of + courage and love. + </p> + <p> + “I need to talk—and I don't know how,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He was silent, but he took her hands and drew her closer. + </p> + <p> + “Why are you so—so different?” she asked, bravely. + </p> + <p> + “Different?” he echoed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You are kind—you speak the same to me as you used to. But + since we started you've been different, somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “Fay, think how hard and dangerous the trip's been! I've been worried—and + sick with dread—with—Oh, you can't imagine the strain I'm + under! How could I be my old self?” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't worry I mean.” + </p> + <p> + He was too miserable to try to find out what she did mean; besides, he + believed, if he let himself think about it, he would know what troubled + her. + </p> + <p> + “I—I am almost happy,” she said, softly. + </p> + <p> + “Fay!... Aren't you at all afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “No. You'll take care of me.... Do—do you love me—like you did + before?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, child! Of course—I love you,” he replied, brokenly, and he + drew her closer. He had never embraced her, never kissed her. But there + was a whiteness about her then—a wraith—a something from her + soul, and he could only gaze at her. + </p> + <p> + “I love you,” she whispered. “I thought I knew it that—that night. + But I'm only finding it out now.... And somehow I had to tell you here.” + </p> + <p> + “Fay, I haven't said much to you,” he said, hurriedly, huskily. “I haven't + had a chance. I love you. I—I ask you—will you be my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she said, simply, but the white, moon-blanched face colored + with a dark and leaping blush. + </p> + <p> + “We'll be married as soon as we get out of the desert,” he went on. “And + we'll forget—all—all that's happened. You're so young. You'll + forget.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd forgotten already, till this difference came in you. And pretty soon—when + I can say something more to you—I'll forget all except Surprise + Valley—and my evenings in the starlight with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Say it then—quick!” + </p> + <p> + She was leaning against him, holding his hands in her strong clasp, + soulful, tender, almost passionate. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't help it.... I'm to blame.... I remember what I said.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” he queried in amaze. + </p> + <p> + “'YOU CAN KILL HIM!'... I said that. I made you kill him.” + </p> + <p> + “Kill—whom?” cried Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Waggoner. I'm to blame.... That must be what's made you different. And, + oh, I've wanted you to know it's all my fault.... But I wouldn't be sorry + if you weren't.... I'm glad he's dead.” + </p> + <p> + “YOU—THINK—I—” Shefford's gasping whisper failed in the + shock of the revelation that Fay believed he had killed Waggoner. Then + with the inference came the staggering truth—her guiltlessness; and + a paralyzing joy held him stricken. + </p> + <p> + A powerful hand fell upon Shefford's shoulder, startling him. Nas Ta Bega + stood there, looking down upon him and Fay. Never had the Indian seemed so + dark, inscrutable of face. But in his magnificent bearing, in the spirit + that Shefford sensed in him, there were nobility and power and a strange + pride. + </p> + <p> + The Indian kept one hand on Shefford's shoulder, and with the other he + struck himself on the breast. The action was that of an Indian, impressive + and stern, significant of an Indian's prowess. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” breathed Shefford, very low. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what does he mean?” cried Fay. + </p> + <p> + Shefford held her with shaking hands, trying to speak, to fight a way out + of these stultifying emotions. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega—you heard. She thinks—I killed Waggoner!” + </p> + <p> + All about the Navajo then was dark and solemn disproof of her belief. He + did not need to speak. His repetition of that savage, almost boastful blow + on his breast added only to the dignity, and not to the denial, of a + warrior. + </p> + <p> + “Fay, he means he killed the Mormon,” said Shefford. “He must have, for <i>I</i> + did not!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” murmured Fay, and she leaned to him with passionate, quivering + gladness. It was the woman—the human—the soul born in her that + came uppermost then; now, when there was no direct call to the wild and + elemental in her nature, she showed a heart above revenge, the instinct of + a saving right, of truth as Shefford knew them. He took her into his arms + and never had he loved her so well. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, you killed the Mormon,” declared Shefford, with a voice that + had gained strength. No silent Indian suggestion of a deed would suffice + in that moment. Shefford needed to hear the Navajo speak—to have Fay + hear him speak. “Nas Ta Bega, I know I understand. But tell her. Speak so + she will know. Tell it as a white man would!” + </p> + <p> + “I heard her cry out,” replied the Indian, in his slow English. “I waited. + When he came I killed him.” + </p> + <p> + A poignant why was wrenched from Shefford. Nas Ta Bega stood silent. + </p> + <p> + “BI NAI!” And when that sonorous Indian name rolled in dignity from his + lips he silently stalked away into the gloom. That was his answer to the + white man. + </p> + <p> + Shefford bent over Fay, and as the strain on him broke he held her closer + and closer and his tears streamed down and his voice broke in exclamations + of tenderness and thanksgiving. It did not matter what she had thought, + but she must never know what he had thought. He clasped her as something + precious he had lost and regained. He was shaken with a passion of + remorse. How could he have believed Fay Larkin guilty of murder? Women + less wild and less justified than she had been driven to such a deed, yet + how could he have believed it of her, when for two days he had been with + her, had seen her face, and deep into her eyes? There was mystery in his + very blindness. He cast the whole thought from him for ever. There was no + shadow between Fay and him. He had found her. He had saved her. She was + free. She was innocent. And suddenly, as he seemed delivered from + contending tumults within, he became aware that it was no unresponsive + creature he had folded to his breast. + </p> + <p> + He became suddenly alive to the warm, throbbing contact of her bosom, to + her strong arms clinging round his neck, to her closed eyes, to the rapt + whiteness of her face. And he bent to cold lips that seemed to receive his + first kisses as new and strange; but tremulously changed, at last to meet + his own, and then to burn with sweet and thrilling fire. + </p> + <p> + “My darling, my dream's come true,” he said. “You are my treasure. I found + you here at the foot of the rainbow!... What if it is a stone rainbow—if + all is not as I had dreamed? I followed a gleam. And it's led me to love + and faith!” + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Hours afterward Shefford walked alone to and fro under the bridge. His + trouble had given place to serenity. But this night of nights he must live + out wide-eyed to its end. + </p> + <p> + The moon had long since crossed the streak of star-fired blue above and + the canyon was black in shadow. At times a current of wind, with all the + strangeness of that strange country in its hollow moan, rushed through the + great stone arch. At other times there was silence such as Shefford + imagined dwelt deep under this rocky world. At still other times an owl + hooted, and the sound was nameless. But it had a mocking echo that never + ended. An echo of night, silence, gloom, melancholy death, age, eternity! + </p> + <p> + The Indian lay asleep with his dark face upturned, and the other sleepers + lay calm and white in the starlight. + </p> + <p> + Shefford saw in them the meaning of life and the past—the + illimitable train of faces that had shone the stars. There was a spirit in + the canyon, and whether or not it was what the Navajo embodied in the + great Nonnezoshe, or the life of this present, or the death of the ages, + or the nature so magnificently manifested in those silent, dreaming + waiting walls—the truth for Shefford was that this spirit was God. + </p> + <p> + Life was eternal. Man's immortality lay in himself. Love of a woman was + hope—happiness. Brotherhood—that mystic and grand “Bi Nai!” of + the Navajo—that was religion. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. THE GRAND CANYON OF THE COLORADO + </h2> + <p> + The night passed, the gloom turned gray, the dawn stole cool and pale into + the canyon. When Nas Ta Bega drove the mustangs into camp the lofty + ramparts of the walls were rimmed with gold and the dark arch of + Nonnezoshe began to lose its steely gray. + </p> + <p> + The women had rested well and were in better condition to travel. Jane was + cheerful and Fay radiant one moment and in a dream the next. She was + beginning to live in that wonderful future. They talked more than usual at + breakfast, and Lassiter made droll remarks. Shefford, with his great and + haunting trouble ended for ever, with now only danger to face ahead, was a + different man, but thoughtful and quiet. + </p> + <p> + This morning the Indian leisurely made preparations for the start. For all + the concern he showed he might have known every foot of the canyon below + Nonnezoshe. But, for Shefford, with the dawn had returned anxiety, a + restless feeling of the need of hurry. What obstacles, what impassable + gorges, might lie between this bridge and the river! The Indian's + inscrutable serenity and Fay's trust, her radiance, the exquisite glow + upon her face, sustained Shefford and gave him patience to endure and + conceal his dread. + </p> + <p> + At length the flight was resumed, with Nas Ta Bega leading on foot, and + Shefford walking in the rear. A quarter of a mile below camp the Indian + led down a declivity into the bottom of the narrow gorge, where the stream + ran. He did not gaze backward for a last glance at Nonnezoshe; nor did + Jane or Lassiter. Fay, however, checked Nack-yal at the rim of the descent + and turned to look behind. Shefford contrasted her tremulous smile, her + half-happy good-by to this place, with the white stillness of her face + when she had bade farewell to Surprise Valley. Then she rode Nack-yal down + into the gorge. + </p> + <p> + Shefford knew that this would be his last look at the rainbow bridge. As + he gazed the tip of the great arch lost its cold, dark stone color and + began to shine. The sun had just arisen high enough over some low break in + the wall to reach the bridge. Shefford watched. Slowly, in wondrous + transformation, the gold and blue and rose and pink and purple blended + their hues, softly, mistily, cloudily, until once again the arch was a + rainbow. + </p> + <p> + Ages before life had evolved upon the earth it had spread its grand arch + from wall to wall, black and mystic at night, transparent and rosy in the + sunrise, at sunset a flaming curve limned against the heavens. When the + race of man had passed it would, perhaps, stand there still. It was not + for many eyes to see. Only by toil, sweat, endurance, blood, could any man + ever look at Nonnezoshe. So it would always be alone, grand, silent, + beautiful, unintelligible. + </p> + <p> + Shefford bade Nonnezoshe a mute, reverent farewell. Then plunging down the + weathered slope of the gorge to the stream below, he hurried forward to + join the others. They had progressed much farther than he imagined they + would have, and this was owing to the fact that the floor of the gorge + afforded easy travel. It was gravel on rock bottom, tortuous, but open, + with infrequent and shallow downward steps. The stream did not now rush + and boil along and tumble over rock-encumbered ledges. In corners the + water collected in round, green, eddying pools. There were patches of + grass and willows and mounds of moss. Shefford's surprise equaled his + relief, for he believed that the violent descent of Nonnezoshe Boco had + been passed. Any turn now, he imagined, might bring the party out upon the + river. When he caught up with them he imparted this conviction, which was + received with cheer. The hopes of all, except the Indian, seemed mounting; + and if he ever hoped or despaired it was never manifest. + </p> + <p> + Shefford's anticipation, however, was not soon realized. The fugitives + traveled miles farther down Nonnezoshe Boco, and the only changes were + that the walls of the lower gorge heightened and merged into those above + and that these upper ones towered ever loftier. Shefford had to throw his + head straight back to look up at the rims, and the narrow strip of sky was + now indeed a flowing stream of blue. + </p> + <p> + Difficult steps were met, too, yet nothing compared to those of the upper + canyon. Shefford calculated that this day's travel had advanced several + hours; and more than ever now he was anticipating the mouth of Nonnezoshe + Boco. Still another hour went by. And then came striking changes. The + canyon narrowed till the walls were scarcely twenty paces apart; the color + of stone grew dark red above and black down low; the light of day became + shadowed, and the floor was a level, gravelly, winding lane, with the + stream meandering slowly and silently. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the Indian halted. He turned his ear down the canyon lane. He had + heard something. The others grouped round him, but did not hear a sound + except the soft flow of water and the heave of the mustangs. Then the + Indian went on. Presently he halted again. And again he listened. This + time he threw up his head and upon his dark face shone a light which might + have been pride. + </p> + <p> + “Tse ko-n-tsa-igi,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The others could not understand, but they were impressed. + </p> + <p> + “Shore he means somethin' big,” drawled Lassiter. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what did he say?” queried Fay in eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Nas Ta Bega, tell us,” said Shefford. “We are full of hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Grand canyon,” replied the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” asked Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “I hear the roar of the river.” + </p> + <p> + But Shefford, listen as he might, could not hear it. They traveled on, + winding down the wonderful lane. Every once in a while Shefford lagged + behind, let the others pass out of hearing, and then he listened. At last + he was rewarded. Low and deep, dull and strange, with some quality to + incite dread, came a roar. Thereafter, at intervals, usually at turns in + the canyon, and when a faint stir of warm air fanned his cheeks, he heard + the sound, growing clearer and louder. + </p> + <p> + He rounded an abrupt corner to have the roar suddenly fill his ears, to + see the lane extend straight to a ragged vent, and beyond that, at some + distance, a dark, ragged, bulging wall, like iron. As he hurried forward + he was surprised to find that the noise did not increase. Here it kept a + strange uniformity of tone and volume. The others of the party passed out + of the mouth of Nonnezoshe Boco in advance of Shefford, and when he + reached it they were grouped upon a bank of sand. A dark-red canyon yawned + before them, and through it slid the strangest river Shefford had ever + seen. At first glance he imagined the strangeness consisted of the + dark-red color of the water, but at the second he was not so sure. All the + others, except Nas Ta Bega, eyed the river blankly, as if they did not + know what to think. The roar came from round a huge bulging wall + downstream. Up the canyon, half a mile, at another turn, there was a + leaping rapid of dirty red-white waves and the sound of this, probably, + was drowned in the unseen but nearer rapid. + </p> + <p> + “This is the Grand canyon of the Colorado,” said Shefford. “We've come out + at the mouth of Nonnezoshe Boco.... And now to wait for Joe Lake!” + </p> + <p> + They made camp on a dry, level sand-bar under a shelving wall. Nas Ta Bega + collected a pile of driftwood to be used for fire, and then he took the + mustangs back up the side canyon to find grass for them. Lassiter appeared + unusually quiet, and soon passed from weary rest on the sand to deep + slumber. Fay and Jane succumbed to an exhaustion that manifested itself + the moment relaxation set in, and they, too, fell asleep. Shefford + patrolled the long strip of sand under the wall, and watched up the river + for Joe Lake. The Indian returned and went along the river, climbed over + the jutting, sharp slopes that reached into the water, and passed out of + sight up-stream toward the rapid. + </p> + <p> + Shefford had a sense that the river and the canyon were too magnificent to + be compared with others. Still, all his emotions and sensations had been + so wrought upon, he seemed not to have any left by which he might judge of + what constituted the difference. He would wait. He had a grim conviction + that before he was safely out of this earth-riven crack he would know. One + thing, however, struck him, and it was that up the canyon, high over the + lower walls, hazy and blue, stood other walls, and beyond and above them, + dim in purple distance, upreared still other walls. The haze and the blue + and the purple meant great distance, and, likewise, the height seemed + incomparable. + </p> + <p> + The red river attracted him most. Since this was the medium by which he + must escape with his party, it was natural that it absorbed him, to the + neglect of the gigantic cliffs. And the more he watched the river, studied + it, listened to it, imagined its nature, its power, its restlessness, the + more he dreaded it. As the hours of the afternoon wore away, and he + strolled along and rested on the banks, his first impressions, and what he + realized might be his truest ones, were gradually lost. He could not bring + them back. The river was changing, deceitful. It worked upon his mind. The + low, hollow roar filled his ears and seemed to mock him. Then he + endeavored to stop thinking about it, to confine his attention to the gap + up-stream where sooner or later he prayed that Joe Lake and his boat would + appear. But, though he controlled his gaze, he could not his thought, and + his strange, impondering dread of the river augmented. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon waned. Nas Ta Bega came back to camp and said any likelihood + of Joe's arrival was past for that day. Shefford could not get over an + impression of strangeness—of the impossibility of the reality + presented to his naked eyes. These lonely fugitives in the huge-walled + canyon waiting for a boatman to come down that river! Strange and wild—those + were the words which, inadequately at best, suited this country and the + situations it produced. + </p> + <p> + After supper he and Fay walked along the bars of smooth, red sand. There + were a few moments when the distant peaks and domes and turrets were + glorified in changing sunset hues. But the beauty was fleeting. Fay still + showed lassitude. She was quiet, yet cheerful, and the sweetness of her + smile, her absolute trust in him, stirred and strengthened anew his + spirit. Yet he suffered torture when he thought of trusting Fay's life, + her soul, and her beauty to this strange red river. + </p> + <p> + Night brought him relief. He could not see the river; only the low roar + made its presence known out there in the shadows. And, there being no need + to stay awake, he dropped at once into heavy slumber. He was roused by + hands dragging at him. Nas Ta Bega bent over him. It was broad daylight. + The yellow wall high above was glistening. A fire was crackling and + pleasant odors were wafted to him. Fay and Jane and Lassiter sat around + the tarpaulin at breakfast. After the meal suspense and strain were + manifested in all the fugitives, even the imperturbable Indian being more + than usually watchful. His eyes scarcely ever left the black gap where the + river slid round the turn above. Soon, as on the preceding day, he + disappeared up the ragged, iron-bound shore. There was scarcely an attempt + at conversation. A controlling thought bound that group into silence—if + Joe Lake was ever going to come he would come to-day. + </p> + <p> + Shefford asked himself a hundred times if it were possible, and his answer + seemed to be in the low, sullen, muffled roar of the river. And as the + morning wore on toward noon his dread deepened until all chance appeared + hopeless. Already he had begun to have vague and unformed and disquieting + ideas of the only avenue of escape left—to return up Nonnezoshe Boco—and + that would be to enter a trap. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a piercing cry pealed down the canyon. It was followed by echoes, + weird and strange, that clapped from wall to wall in mocking + concatenation. Nas Ta Bega appeared high on the ragged slope. The cry had + been the Indian's. He swept an arm out, pointing up-stream, and stood like + a statue on the iron rocks. + </p> + <p> + Shefford's keen gaze sighted a moving something in the bend of the river. + It was long, low, dark, and flat, with a lighter object upright in the + middle. A boat and a man! + </p> + <p> + “Joe! It's Joe!” yelled Shefford, madly. “There!... Look!” + </p> + <p> + Jane and Fay were on their knees in the sand, clasping each other, pale + faces toward that bend in the river. + </p> + <p> + Shefford ran up the shore toward the Indian. He climbed the jutting slant + of rock. The boat was now full in the turn—it moved faster—it + was nearing the smooth incline above the rapid. There! it glided down—heaved + darkly up—settled back—and disappeared in the frothy, muddy + roughness of water. Shefford held his breath and watched. A dark, bobbing + object showed, vanished, showed again to enlarge—to take the shape + of a big flatboat—and then it rode the swift, choppy current out of + the lower end of the rapid. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega began to make violent motions, and Shefford, taking his cue, + frantically waved his red scarf. There was a five-mile-an-hour current + right before them, and Joe must needs see them so that he might sheer the + huge and clumsy craft into the shore before it drifted too far down. + </p> + <p> + Presently Joe did see them. He appeared to be half-naked; he raised aloft + both arms, and bellowed down the canyon. The echoes boomed from wall to + wall, every one stronger with the deep, hoarse triumph in the Mormon's + voice, till they passed on, growing weaker, to die away in the roar of the + river below. Then Joe bent to a long oar that appeared to be fastened to + the stern of the boat, and the craft drifted out of the swifter current + toward the shore. It reached a point opposite to where Shefford and the + Indian waited, and, though Joe made prodigious efforts, it slid on. Still, + it also drifted shoreward, and half-way down to the mouth of Nonnezoshe + Boco Joe threw the end of a rope to the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “Ho! Ho!” yelled the Mormon, again setting into motion the fiendish + echoes. He was naked to the waist; he had lost flesh; he was haggard, + worn, dirty, wet. While he pulled on a shirt Nas Ta Bega made the rope + fast to a snag of a log of driftwood embedded in the sand, and the boat + swung to shore. It was perhaps thirty feet long by half as many wide, + crudely built of rough-hewn boards. The steering-gear was a long pole with + a plank nailed to the end. The craft was empty save for another pole and + plank, Joe's coat, and a broken-handled shovel. There were water and sand + on the flooring. Joe stepped ashore and he was gripped first by Shefford + and then by the Indian. He was an unkempt and gaunt giant, yet how + steadfast and reliable, how grimly strong to inspire hope! + </p> + <p> + “Reckon most of me's here,” he said in reply to greetings. “I've had water + aplenty. My God! I've had WATER!” He rolled out a grim laugh. “But no grub + for three days.... Forgot to fetch some!” + </p> + <p> + How practical he was! He told Fay she looked good for sore eyes, but he + needed a biscuit most of all. There was just a second of singular + hesitation when he faced Lassiter, and then the big, strong hand of the + young Mormon went out to meet the old gunman's. While they fed him and he + ate like a starved man Shefford told of the flight from the village, the + rescuing of Jane and Lassiter from Surprise Valley, the descent from the + plateau, the catastrophe to Shadd's gang—and, concluding, Shefford, + without any explanation, told that Nas Ta Bega had killed the Mormon + Waggoner. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I had that figured,” replied Joe. “First off. I didn't think + so.... So Shadd went over the cliff. That's good riddance. It beats me, + though. Never knew that Piute's like with a horse. And he had some grand + horses in his outfit. Pity about them.” + </p> + <p> + Later when Joe had a moment alone with Shefford he explained that during + his ride to Kayenta he had realized Fay's innocence and who had been + responsible for the tragedy. He took Withers, the trader, into his + confidence, and they planned a story, which Withers was to carry to + Stonebridge, that would exculpate Fay and Shefford of anything more + serious than flight. If Shefford got Fay safely out of the country at once + that would end the matter for all concerned. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I'm some ferry-boatman, too—a FAIRY boatman. Haw! Haw!” he + added. “And we're going through.... Now I want you to help me rig this + tarpaulin up over the bow of the boat. If we can fix it up strong it'll + keep the waves from curling over. They filled her four times for me.” + </p> + <p> + They folded the tarpaulin three times, and with stout pieces of split + plank and horseshoe nails from Shefford's saddle-bags and pieces of rope + they rigged up a screen around bow and front corners. + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega put the saddles in the boat. The mustangs were far up + Nonnezoshe Boco and would work their way back to green and luxuriant + canyons. The Indian said they would soon become wild and would never be + found. Shefford regretted Nack-yal, but was glad the faithful little + mustang would be free in one of those beautiful canyons. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon we'd better be off,” called Joe. “All aboard!” He placed Fay and + Jane in a corner of the bow, where they would be spared sight of the + rapids. Shefford loosed the rope and sprang aboard. “Pard,” said Joe, + “it's one hell of a river! And now with the snow melting up in the + mountains it's twenty feet above normal and rising fast. But that's well + for us. It covers the stones in the rapids. If it hadn't been in flood Joe + would be an angel now!” + </p> + <p> + The boat cleared the sand, lazily wheeled in the eddying water, and + suddenly seemed caught by some powerful gliding force. When it swept out + beyond the jutting wall Shefford saw a quarter of a mile of sliding water + that appeared to end abruptly. Beyond lengthened out the gigantic gap + between the black and frowning cliffs. + </p> + <p> + “Wow!” ejaculated Joe. “Drops out of sight there. But that one ain't much. + I can tell by the roar. When you see my hair stand up straight—then + watch out!... Lassiter, you look after the women. Shefford, you stand + ready to bail out with the shovel, for we'll sure ship water. Nas Ta Bega, + you help here with the oar.” + </p> + <p> + The roar became a heavy, continuous rumble; the current quickened; little + streaks and ridges seemed to race along the boat; strange gurglings rose + from under the bow. Shefford stood on tiptoe to see the break in the river + below. Swiftly it came into sight—a wonderful, long, smooth, red + slant of water, a swelling mound, a huge back-curling wave, another and + another, a sea of frothy, uplifting crests, leaping and tumbling and + diminishing down to the narrowing apex of the rapid. It was a frightful + sight, yet it thrilled Shefford. Joe worked the steering-oar back and + forth and headed the boat straight for the middle of the incline. The boat + reached the round rim, gracefully dipped with a heavy sop, and went + shooting down. The wind blew wet in Shefford's face. He stood erect, + thrilling, fascinated, frightened. Then he seemed to feel himself lifted; + the curling wave leaped at the boat; there was a shock that laid him flat; + and when he rose to his knees all about him was roar and spray and + leaping, muddy waves. Shock after shock jarred the boat. Splashes of water + stung his face. And then the jar and the motion, the confusion and roar, + gradually lessened until presently Shefford rose to see smooth water ahead + and the long, trembling rapid behind. + </p> + <p> + “Get busy, bailer,” yelled Joe. “Pretty soon you'll be glad you have to + bail—so you can't see!” + </p> + <p> + There were several inches of water in the bottom of the boat and Shefford + learned for the first time the expediency of a shovel in the art of + bailing. + </p> + <p> + “That tarpaulin worked powerful good,” went on Joe. “And it saves the + women. Now if it just don't bust on a big wave! That one back there was + little.” + </p> + <p> + When Shefford had scooped out all the water he went forward to see how Fay + and Jane and Lassiter had fared. The women were pale, but composed. They + had covered their heads. + </p> + <p> + “But the dreadful roar!” exclaimed Fay. + </p> + <p> + Lassiter looked shaken for once. + </p> + <p> + “Shore I'd rather taken a chance meetin' them Mormons on the way out,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + Shefford spoke with an encouraging assurance which he did not himself + feel. Almost at the moment he marked a silence that had fallen into the + canyon; then it broke to a low, dull, strange roar. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! Hear that?” The Mormon shook his shaggy head. “Reckon we're in + Cataract canyon. We'll be standing on end from now on. Hang on to her, + boys!” + </p> + <p> + Danger of this unusual kind had brought out a peculiar levity in the + somber Mormon—a kind of wild, gay excitement. His eyes rolled as he + watched the river ahead and he puffed out his cheek with his tongue. + </p> + <p> + The rugged, overhanging walls of the canyon grew sinister in Shefford's + sight. They were jaws. And the river—that made him shudder to look + down into it. The little whirling pits were eyes peering into his, and + they raced on with the boat, disappeared, and came again, always with the + little, hollow gurgles. + </p> + <p> + The craft drifted swiftly and the roar increased. Another rapid seemed to + move up into view. It came at a bend in the canyon. When the breeze struck + Shefford's cheeks he did not this time experience exhilaration. The + current accelerated its sliding motion and bore the flatboat straight for + the middle of the curve. Shefford saw the bend, a long, dark, narrow, + gloomy canyon, and a stretch of contending waters, then, crouching low, he + waited for the dip, the race, the shock. They came—the last stopping + the boat—throwing it aloft—letting it drop—and crests of + angry waves curled over the side. Shefford, kneeling, felt the water slap + around him, and in his ears was a deafening roar. There were endless + moments of strife and hell and flying darkness of spray all about him, and + under him the rocking boat. When they lessened—ceased in violence—he + stood ankle-deep in water, and then madly he began to bail. + </p> + <p> + Another roar deadened his ears, but he did not look up from his toil. And + when he had to get down to avoid the pitch he closed his eyes. That rapid + passed and with more water to bail, he resumed his share in the manning of + the crude craft. It was more than a share—a tremendous + responsibility to which he bent with all his might. He heard Joe yell—and + again—and again. He heard the increasing roars one after another + till they seemed one continuous bellow. He felt the shock, the pitch, the + beating waves, and then the lessening power of sound and current. That set + him to his task. Always in these long intervals of toil he seemed to see, + without looking up, the growing proportions of the canyon. And the river + had become a living, terrible thing. The intervals of his tireless effort + when he scooped the water overboard were fleeting, and the rides through + rapid after rapid were endless periods of waiting terror. His spirit and + his hope were overwhelmed by the rush and roar and fury. + </p> + <p> + Then, as he worked, there came a change—a rest to deafened ears—a + stretch of river that seemed quiet after chaos—and here for the + first time he bailed the boat clear of water. + </p> + <p> + Jane and Fay were huddled in a corner, with the flapping tarpaulin now + half fallen over them. They were wet and muddy. Lassiter crouched like a + man dazed by a bad dream, and his white hair hung, stained and bedraggled, + over his face. The Indian and the Mormon, grim, hard, worn, stood silent + at the oar. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon was far advanced and the sun had already descended below the + western ramparts. A cool breeze blew up the canyon, laden with a sound + that was the same, yet not the same, as those low, dull roars which + Shefford dreaded more and more. + </p> + <p> + Joe Lake turned his ear to the breeze. A stronger puff brought a heavy, + quivering rumble. This time he did not vent his gay and wild defiance to + the river. He bent lower—listened. Then as the rumble became a + strange, deep, reverberating roll, as if the monstrous river were rolling + huge stones down a subterranean canyon, Shefford saw with dilating eyes + that the Mormon's hair was rising stiff upon his head. + </p> + <p> + “Hear that!” said Joe, turning an ashen face to Shefford. “We'll drop off + the earth now. Hang on to the girl, so if we go you can go together.... + And, pard, if you've a God—pray!” + </p> + <p> + Nas Ta Bega faced the bend from whence that rumble came, and he was the + same dark, inscrutable, impassive Indian as of old. What was death to him? + </p> + <p> + Shefford felt the strong, rushing love of life surge in him, and it was + not for himself he thought, but for Fay and the happiness she merited. He + went to her, patted the covered head, and tried with words choking in his + throat to give hope. And he leaned with hands gripping the gunwale, with + eyes wide open, ready for the unknown. + </p> + <p> + The river made a quick turn and from round the bend rumbled a terrible + uproar. The current racing that way was divided or uncertain, and it gave + strange motion to the boat. Joe and Nas Ta Bega shoved desperately upon + the oar, all to no purpose. The currents had their will. The bow of the + boat took the place of the stern. Then swift at the head of a curved + incline it shot beyond the bulging wall. + </p> + <p> + And Shefford saw an awful place before them. The canyon had narrowed to + half its width, and turned almost at right angles. The huge clamor of + appalling sound came from under the cliff where the swollen river had to + pass and where there was not space. The rapid rushed in gigantic swells + right upon the wall, boomed against it, climbed and spread and fell away, + to recede and gather new impetus, to leap madly on down the canyon. + </p> + <p> + Shefford went to his knees, clasped Fay, and Jane, too. But facing this + appalling thing he had to look. Courage and despair came to him at the + last. This must be the end. With long, buoyant swing the boat sailed down, + shot over the first waves, was caught and lifted upon the great swell and + impelled straight toward the cliff. Huge whirlpools raced alongside, and + from them came a horrible, engulfing roar. Monstrous bulges rose on the + other side. All the stupendous power of that mighty river of + downward-rushing silt swung the boat aloft, up and up, as the swell + climbed the wall. Shefford, with transfixed eyes and harrowed soul, + watched the wet black wall. It loomed down upon him. The stern of the boat + went high. Then when the crash that meant doom seemed imminent the swell + spread and fell back from the wall and the boat never struck at all. By + some miraculous chance it had been favored by a strange and momentary + receding of the huge spent swell. Then it slid back, was caught and + whirled by the current into a red, frothy, up-flung rapids below. Shefford + bowed his head over Fay and saw no more, nor felt nor heard. What seemed a + long time after that the broken voice of the Mormon recalled him to his + labors. + </p> + <p> + The boat was half full of water. Nas Ta Bega scooped out great sheets of + it with his hands. Shefford sprang to aid him, found the shovel, and + plunged into the task. Slowly but surely they emptied the boat. And then + Shefford saw that twilight had fallen. Joe was working the craft toward a + narrow bank of sand, to which, presently, they came, and the Indian sprang + out to moor to a rock. + </p> + <p> + The fugitives went ashore and, weary and silent and drenched, they dropped + in the warm sand. + </p> + <p> + But Shefford could not sleep. The river kept him awake. In the distance it + rumbled, low, deep, reverberating, and near at hand it was a thing of + mutable mood. It moaned, whined, mocked, and laughed. It had the soul of a + devil. It was a river that had cut its way to the bowels of the earth, and + its nature was destructive. It harbored no life. Fighting its way through + those dead walls, cutting and tearing and wearing, its heavy burden of + silt was death, destruction, and decay. A silent river, a murmuring, + strange, fierce, terrible, thundering river of the desert! Even in the + dark it seemed to wear the hue of blood. + </p> + <p> + All night long Shefford heard it, and toward the dark hours before dawn, + when a restless, broken sleep came to him, his dreams were dreams of a + river of sounds. + </p> + <p> + All the beautiful sounds he knew and loved he heard—the sigh of the + wind in the pines, the mourn of the wolf, the cry of the laughing-gull, + the murmur of running brooks, the song of a child, the whisper of a woman. + And there were the boom of the surf, the roar of the north wind in the + forest, the roll of thunder. And there were the sounds not of earth—a + river of the universe rolling the planets, engulfing the stars, pouring + the sea of blue into infinite space. + </p> + <p> + Night with its fitful dreams passed. Dawn lifted the ebony gloom out of + the canyon and sunlight far up on the ramparts renewed Shefford's spirit. + He rose and awoke the others. Fay's wistful smile still held its faith. + They ate of the gritty, water-soaked food. Then they embarked. The current + carried them swiftly down and out of hearing of the last rapid. The + character of the river and the canyon changed. The current lessened to a + slow, smooth, silent, eddying flow. The walls grew straight, sheer, + gloomy, and vast. Shefford noted these features, but he was listening so + hard for the roar of the next rapid that he scarcely appreciated them. All + the fugitives were listening. Every bend in the canyon—and now the + turns were numerous—might hold a rapid. Shefford strained his ears. + He imagined the low, dull, strange rumble. He had it in his ears, yet + there was the growing sensation of silence. + </p> + <p> + “Shore this 's a dead place,” muttered Lassiter. + </p> + <p> + “She's only slowed up for a bigger plunge,” replied Joe. “Listen! Hear + that?” + </p> + <p> + But there was no true sound, Joe only imagined what he expected and hated + and dreaded to hear. + </p> + <p> + Mile after mile they drifted through the silent gloom between those vast + and magnificent walls. After the speed, the turmoil, the whirling, + shrieking, thundering, the never-ceasing sound and change and motion of + the rapids above, this slow, quiet drifting, this utter, absolute silence, + these eddying stretches of still water below, worked strangely upon + Shefford's mind and he feared he was going mad. + </p> + <p> + There was no change to the silence, no help for the slow drift, no + lessening of the strain. And the hours of the day passed as moments, the + sun crossed the blue gap above, the golden lights hung on the upper walls, + the gloom returned, and still there was only the dead, vast, insupportable + silence. + </p> + <p> + There came bends where the current quickened, ripples widened, long lanes + of little waves roughened the surface, but they made no sound. + </p> + <p> + And then the fugitives turned through a V-shaped vent in the canyon. The + ponderous walls sheered away from the river. There was space and sunshine, + and far beyond this league-wide open rose vermilion-colored cliffs. A mile + below the river disappeared in a dark, boxlike passage from which came a + rumble that made Shefford's flesh creep. + </p> + <p> + The Mormon flung high his arms and let out the stentorian yell that had + rolled down to the fugitives as they waited at the mouth of Nonnezoshe + Boco. But now it had a wilder, more exultant note. Strange how he shifted + his gaze to Fay Larkin! + </p> + <p> + “Girl! Get up and look!” he called. “The Ferry! The Ferry!” + </p> + <p> + Then he bent his brawny back over the steering-oar, and the clumsy craft + slowly turned toward the left-hand shore, where a long, low bank of green + willows and cottonwoods gave welcome relief to the eyes. Upon the opposite + side of the river Shefford saw a boat, similar to the one he was in, + moored to the bank. + </p> + <p> + “Shore, if I ain't losin' my eyes, I seen an Injun with a red blanket,” + said Lassiter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lassiter,” cried Shefford. “Look, Fay! Look, Jane! See! Indians—hogans—mustangs—there + above the green bank!” + </p> + <p> + The boat glided slowly shoreward. And the deep, hungry, terrible rumble of + the remorseless river became something no more to dread. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. WILLOW SPRINGS + </h2> + <p> + Two days' travel from the river, along the saw-toothed range of Echo + Cliffs, stood Presbrey's trading-post, a little red-stone square house in + a green and pretty valley called Willow Springs. + </p> + <p> + It was nearing the time of sunset—that gorgeous hour of color in the + Painted Desert—when Shefford and his party rode down upon the post. + </p> + <p> + The scene lacked the wildness characteristic of Kayenta or Red Lake. There + were wagons and teams, white men and Indians, burros, sheep, lambs, + mustangs saddled and unsaddled, dogs, and chickens. A young, sweet-faced + woman stood in the door of the post and she it was who first sighted the + fugitives. Presbrey was weighing bags of wool on a scale, and when she + called he lazily turned, as if to wonder at her eagerness. + </p> + <p> + Then he flung up his head, with its shock of heavy hair, in a start of + surprise, and his florid face lost its lazy indolence to become wreathed + in a huge smile. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't seen a white person in six months!” was his extraordinary + greeting. + </p> + <p> + An hour later Shefford, clean-shaven, comfortably clothed once more, found + himself a different man; and when he saw Fay in white again, with a new + and indefinable light shining through that old, haunting shadow in her + eyes, then the world changed and he embraced perfect happiness. + </p> + <p> + There was a dinner such as Shefford had not seen for many a day, and such + as Fay had never seen, and that brought to Jane Withersteen's eyes the + dreamy memory of the bountiful feasts which, long years ago, had been her + pride. And there was a story told to the curious trader and his kind wife—a + story with its beginning back in those past years, of riders of the purple + sage, of Fay Larkin as a child and then as a wild girl in Surprise Valley, + of the flight down Nonnezoshe Boco an the canyon, of a great Mormon and a + noble Indian. + </p> + <p> + Presbrey stared with his deep-set eyes and wagged his tousled head and + stared again; then with the quick perception of the practical desert man + he said: + </p> + <p> + “I'm sending teamsters in to Flagstaff to-morrow. Wife and I will go along + with you. We've light wagons. Three days, maybe—or four—and + we'll be there.... Shefford, I'm going to see you marry Fay Larkin!” + </p> + <p> + Fay and Jane and Lassiter showed strangely against this background of + approaching civilization. And Shefford realized more than ever the + loneliness and isolation and wildness of so many years for them. + </p> + <p> + When the women had retired Shefford and the men talked a while. Then Joe + Lake rose to stretch his big frame. + </p> + <p> + “Friends, reckon I'm all in,” he said. “Good night.” In passing he laid a + heavy hand on Shefford's shoulder. “Well, you got out. I've only a queer + notion how. But SOME ONE besides an Indian and a Mormon guided you out!... + Be good to the girl.... Good-by, pard!” + </p> + <p> + Shefford grasped the big hand and in the emotion of the moment did not + catch the significance of Joe's last words. + </p> + <p> + Later Shefford stepped outside into the starlight for a few moments' quiet + walk and thought before he went to bed. It was a white night. The coyotes + were yelping. The stars shone steadfast, bright, cold. Nas Ta Bega stalked + out of the shadow of the house and joined Shefford. They walked in + silence. Shefford's heart was too full for utterance and the Indian seldom + spoke at any time. When Shefford was ready to go in Nas Ta Bega extended + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by—Bi Nai!” he said, strangely, using English and Navajo in + what Shefford supposed to be merely good night. The starlight shone full + upon the dark, inscrutable face of the Indian. Shefford bade him good + night and then watched him stride away in the silver gloom. + </p> + <p> + But next morning Shefford understood. Nas Ta Bega and Joe Lake were gone. + It was a shock to Shefford. Yet what could he have said to either? Joe had + shirked saying good-by to him and Fay. And the Indian had gone out of + Shefford's life as he had come into it. + </p> + <p> + What these two men represented in Shefford's uplift was too great for the + present to define, but they and the desert that had developed them had + taught him the meaning of life. He might fail often, since failure was the + lot of his kind, but could he ever fail again in faith in man or God while + he had mind to remember the Indian and the Mormon? + </p> + <p> + Still, though he placed them on a noble height and loved them well, there + would always abide with him a sorrow for the Mormon and a sleepless and + eternal regret for that Indian on his lonely cedar slope with the spirits + of his vanishing race calling him. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Willow Springs appeared to be a lively place that morning. Presbrey was + gay and his sweet-faced wife was excited. The teamsters were a jolly, + whistling lot. And the lean mustangs kicked and bit at one another. The + trader had brought out two light wagons for the trip, and, after the + manner of desert men, desired to start at sunrise. + </p> + <p> + Far across the Painted Desert towered the San Francisco peaks, + black-timbered, blue-canyoned, purple-hazed, with white snow, like the + clouds, around their summits. + </p> + <p> + Jane Withersteen looked at the radiant Fay and lived again in her + happiness. And at last excitement had been communicated to the old + gun-man. + </p> + <p> + “Shore we're goin' to live with Fay an' John, an' be near Venters an' + Bess, an' see the blacks again, Jane.... An' Venters will tell you, as he + did me, how Wrangle run Black Star off his legs!” + </p> + <p> + All connected with that early start was sweet, sad, hopeful. + </p> + <p> + And so they rode away from Willow Springs, through the green fields of + alfalfa and cotton wood, down the valley with its smoking hogans and + whistling mustangs and scarlet-blanketed Indians, and out upon the bare, + ridgy, colorful desert toward the rosy sunrise. + </p> + <p> + <a name="2H_EPIL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPILOGUE + </h2> + <p> + On the outskirts of a little town in Illinois there was a farm of rolling + pasture-land. And here a beautiful meadow, green and red in clover, merged + upon an orchard in the midst of which a brown-tiled roof showed above the + trees. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon in May a group of people, strangely agitated, walked down a + shady lane toward the meadow. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Jane, I always knew we'd get a look at them hosses again—I + shore knew,” Lassiter was saying in the same old, cool, careless drawl. + But his clawlike hands shook a little. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! will they know me?” asked Jane Withersteen, turning to a stalwart man—no + other than the dark-faced Venters, her rider of other days. + </p> + <p> + “Know you? I'll bet they will,” replied Venters. “What do you say, Bess?” + </p> + <p> + The shadow brightened in Bess's somber blue eyes, as if his words had + recalled her from a sad and memorable past. + </p> + <p> + “Black Star will know her, surely,” replied Bess. “Sometimes he points his + nose toward the west and watches as if he saw the purple slopes and smelt + the sage of Utah! He has never forgotten. But Night has grown deaf and + partly blind of late. I doubt if he'd remember.” + </p> + <p> + Shefford and Fay walked arm in arm in the background. + </p> + <p> + Out in the meadow two horses were grazing. They were sleek, shiny, + long-maned, long-tailed, black as coal, and, though old, still splendid in + every line. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember them?” whispered Shefford. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I only needed to see Black Star,” murmured Fay, her voice quivering. + “I can remember being lifted on his back.... How strange! It seems so long + ago.... Look! Mother Jane is going out to them.” + </p> + <p> + Jane Withersteen advanced alone through the clover, and it was with + unsteady steps. Presently she halted. What glorious and bitter memories + were expressed in her strange, poignant call! + </p> + <p> + Black Star started and swept up his noble head and looked. But Night went + on calmly grazing. Then Jane called again—the same strange call, + only louder, and this time broken. Black Star raised his head higher and + he whistled a piercing blast. He saw Jane; he knew her as he had + remembered the call; and he came pounding toward her. She met him, + encircled his neck with her arms, and buried her face in his mane. + </p> + <p> + “Shore I reckon I'd better never say any more about Wrangle runnin' the + blacks off their legs thet time,” muttered Lassiter, as if to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Lassiter, you only dreamed that race,” replied Venters, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bern, isn't it good that Black Star remembered her—that she'll + have him—something left of her old home?” asked Bess, wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it is good. But, Bess, Jane Withersteen will find a new spirit and + new happiness here.” + </p> + <p> + Jane came toward them, leading both horses. “Dear friends, I am happy. + To-day I bury all regrets. Of the past I shall remember only—my + riders of the purple sage.” + </p> + <p> + Venters smiled his gladness. “And you—Lassiter—what shall you + remember?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + The old gun-man looked at Jane and then at his clawlike hands and then at + Fay. His eyes lost their shadow and began to twinkle. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I rolled a stone once, but I reckon now thet time Wrangle—” + </p> + <p> + “Lassiter, I said you dreamed that race. Wrangle never beat the blacks,” + interrupted Venters.... “And you, Fay, what shall you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Surprise Valley,” replied Fay, dreamily. + </p> + <p> + “And you—Shefford?” + </p> + <p> + Shefford shook his head. For him there could never be one memory only. In + his heart there would never change or die memories of the wild uplands, of + the great towers and walls, of the golden sunsets on the canyon ramparts, + of the silent, fragrant valleys where the cedars and the sago-lilies grew, + of those starlit nights when his love and faith awoke, of grand and lonely + Nonnezoshe, of that red, sullen, thundering, mysterious Colorado River, of + a wonderful Indian and a noble Mormon—of all that was embodied for + him in the meaning of the rainbow trail. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rainbow Trail, by Zane Grey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RAINBOW TRAIL *** + +***** This file should be named 5067-h.htm or 5067-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/6/5067/ + +Produced by Doug Levy, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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