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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6176.txt b/6176.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f291d8b --- /dev/null +++ b/6176.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2371 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook Pierre And His People, V3, by G. Parker +#4 in our series by Gilbert Parker + Contents: + Shon McGann's Tobogan Ride + Pere Champagne + The Scarlet Hunter + The Stone + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: Pierre And His People, [Tales of the Far North], Volume 3. + +Author: Gilbert Parker + +Release Date: July, 2004 [EBook #6176] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on August 27, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE, V3, PARKER *** + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + +[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the +file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an +entire meal of them. D.W.] + + + + + +PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE + +TALES OF THE FAR NORTH + +By Gilbert Parker + +Volume 3. + + +SHON MCGANN'S TOBOGAN RIDE +PERE CHAMPAGNE +THE SCARLET HUNTER +THE STONE + + + + +SHON McGANN'S TOBOGAN RIDE + + "Oh, it's down the long side of Farcalladen Rise, + With the knees pressing hard to the saddle, my men; + With the sparks from the hoofs giving light to the eyes, + And our hearts beating hard as we rode to the glen! + + "And it's back with the ring of the chain and the spur, + And it's back with the sun on the hill and the moor, + And it's back is the thought sets my pulses astir! + But I'll never go back to Farcalladen more." + + +Shon McGann was lying on a pile of buffalo robes in a mountain hut,--an +Australian would call it a humpey,--singing thus to himself with his pipe +between his teeth. In the room, besides Shon, were Pretty Pierre, Jo +Gordineer, the Hon. Just Trafford, called by his companions simply "The +Honourable," and Prince Levis, the owner of the establishment. Not that +Monsieur Levis, the French Canadian, was really a Prince. The name was +given to him with a humorous cynicism peculiar to the Rockies. We have +little to do with Prince Levis here; but since he may appear elsewhere, +this explanation is made. + +Jo Gordineer had been telling The Honourable about the ghost of Guidon +Mountain, and Pretty Pierre was collaborating with their host in the +preparation of what, in the presence of the Law--that is of the North- +West Mounted Police--was called ginger-tea, in consideration of the +prohibition statute. + +Shon McGann had been left to himself--an unusual thing; for everyone had +a shot at Shon when opportunity occurred; and never a bull's-eye could +they make on him. His wit was like the shield of a certain personage of +mythology. + +He had wandered on from verse to verse of the song with one eye on the +collaborators and an ear open to The Honourable's polite exclamations of +wonder. Jo had, however, come to the end of his weird tale--for weird it +certainly was, told at the foot of Guidon Mountain itself, and in a +region of vast solitudes--the pair of chemists were approaching "the +supreme union of unctuous elements," as The Honourable put it, and in the +silence that fell for a moment there crept the words of the singer: + + "And it's down the long side of Farcalladen Rise, + And it's swift as an arrow and straight as a spear--" + +Jo Gordineer interrupted. "Say, Shon, when'll you be through that +tobogan ride of yours? Aint there any end to it?" + +But Shon was looking with both eyes now at the collaborators, and he sang +softly on: + + "And it's keen as the frost when the summer-time dies, + That we rode to the glen and with never a fear." + +Then he added: "The end's cut off, Joey, me boy; but what's a tobogan +ride, annyway?" + +"Listen to that, Pierre. I'll be eternally shivered if he knows what a +tobogan ride is!" + +"Hot shivers it'll be for you, Joey, me boy, and no quinine over the bar +aither," said Shon. + +"Tell him what a tobogan ride is, Pierre." + +And Pretty Pierre said: "Eh, well, I will tell you. It is like-no, you +have the word precise, Joseph. Eh? What?" + +Pierre then added something in French. Shon did not understand it, but +he saw The Honourable smile, so with a gentle kind of contempt he went on +singing: + + "And it's hey for the hedge, and it's hey for the wall! + And it's over the stream with an echoing cry; + And there's three fled for ever from old Donegal, + And there's two that have shown how bold Irishmen die." + +The Honourable then said, "What is that all about, Shon? I never heard +the song before." + +"No more you did. And I wish I could see the lad that wrote that song, +livin' or dead. If one of ye's will tell me about your tobogan rides, +I'll unfold about Farcalladen Rise." + +Prince Levis passed the liquor. Pretty Pierre, seated on a candle-box, +with a glass in his delicate fingers, said: "Eh, well, the Honourable has +much language. He can speak, precise--this would be better with a little +lemon, just a little,--the Honourable, he, perhaps, will tell. Eh?" + +Pretty Pierre was showing his white teeth. At this stage in his career, +he did not love the Honourable. The Honourable understood that, but he +made clear to Shon's mind what toboganing is. + +And Shon, on his part, with fresh and hearty voice, touched here and +there by a plaintive modulation, told about that ride on Farcalladen +Rise; a tale of broken laws, and fight and fighting, and death and exile; +and never a word of hatred in it all. + +"And the writer of the song, who was he?" asked the Honourable. + +"A gentleman after God's own heart. Heaven rest his soul, if he's dead, +which I'm thinkin' is so, and give him the luck of the world if he's +livin', say I. But it's little I know what's come to him. In the heart +of Australia I saw him last; and mates we were together after gold. And +little gold did we get but what was in the heart of him. And we parted +one day, I carryin' the song that he wrote for me of Farcalladen Rise, +and the memory of him; and him givin' me the word,'I'll not forget you, +Shon, me boy, whatever comes; remember that. And a short pull of the +Three-Star together for the partin' salute,' says he. And the Three-Star +in one sup each we took, as solemn as the Mass, and he went away towards +Cloncurry and I to the coast; and that's the last that I saw of him, now +three years gone. And here I am, and I wish I was with him wherever he +is." + +"What was his name"? said the Honourable. + +"Lawless." + +The fingers of the Honourable trembled on his cigar. "Very interesting, +Shon," he said, as he rose, puffing hard till his face was in a cloud of +smoke. "You had many adventures together, I suppose," he continued. + +"Adventures we had and sufferin' bewhiles, and fun, too, to the neck and +flowin' over." + +"You'll spin us a long yarn about them another night, Shon"? said the +Honourable. + +"I'll do it now--a yarn as long as the lies of the Government; and proud +of the chance." + +"Not to-night, Shon" (there was a kind of huskiness in the voice of the +Honourable); "it's time to turn in. We've a long tramp over the glacier +to-morrow, and we must start at sunrise." + +The Honourable was in command of the party, though Jo Gordineer was the +guide, and all were, for the moment, miners, making for the little Goshen +Field over in Pipi Valley.--At least Pretty Pierre said he was a miner. + +No one thought of disputing the authority of the Honourable, and they all +rose. + +In a few minutes there was silence in the hut, save for the oracular +breathing of Prince Levis and the sparks from the fire. But the +Honourable did not sleep well; he lay and watched the fire through most +of the night. + +The day was clear, glowing, decisive. Not a cloud in the curve of azure, +not a shiver of wind down the canon, not a frown in Nature, if we except +the lowering shadows from the shoulders of the giants of the range. +Crowning the shadows was a splendid helmet of light, rich with the dyes +of the morning; the pines were touched with a brilliant if austere +warmth. The pride of lofty lineage and severe isolation was regnant over +all. And up through the splendour, and the shadows, and the loneliness, +and the austere warmth, must our travellers go. Must go? Scarcely that, +but the Honourable had made up his mind to cross the glacier and none +sought to dissuade him from his choice; the more so, because there was +something of danger in the business. Pretty Pierre had merely shrugged +his shoulders at the suggestion, and had said: + +"'Nom de Dieu,' the higher we go the faster we live, that is something." + +"Sometimes we live ourselves to death too quickly. In my schooldays I +watched a mouse in a jar of oxygen do that;" said the Honourable. + +"That is the best way to die," remarked the halfbreed--"much." + +Jo Gordineer had been over the path before. He was confident of the way, +and proud of his office of guide. + +"Climb Mont Blanc, if you will," said the Honourable, "but leave me these +white bastions of the Selkirks." + +Even so. They have not seen the snowy hills of God who have yet to look +upon the Rocky Mountains, absolute, stupendous, sublimely grave. + +Jo Gordineer and Pretty Pierre strode on together. They being well away +from the other two, the Honourable turned and said to Shon: "What was the +name of the man who wrote that song of yours, again, Shon?" + +"Lawless." + +"Yes, but his first name?" + +"Duke--Duke Lawless." + +There was a pause, in which the other seemed to be intently studying the +glacier above them. Then he said: "What was he like?--in appearance, I +mean." + +"A trifle more than your six feet, about your colour of hair and eyes, +and with a trick of smilin' that would melt the heart of an exciseman, +and O'Connell's own at a joke, barrin' a time or two that he got hold of +a pile of papers from the ould country. By the grave of St. Shon! thin +he was as dry of fun as a piece of blotting paper. And he said at last, +before he was aisy and free again, 'Shon,' says he, 'it's better to burn +your ships behind ye, isn't it?' + +"And I, havin' thought of a glen in ould Ireland that I'll never see +again, nor any that's in it, said: 'Not, only burn them to the water's +edge, Duke Lawless, but swear to your own soul that they never lived but +in the dreams of the night.' + +"'You're right there, Shon,' says he, and after that no luck was bad +enough to cloud the gay heart of him, and bad enough it was sometimes." + +"And why do you fear that he is not alive?" + +"Because I met an old mate of mine one day on the Frazer, and he said +that Lawless had never come to Cloncurry; and a hard, hard road it was to +travel." + +Jo Gordineer was calling to them, and there the conversation ended. +In a few minutes the four stood on the edge of the glacier. Each man had +a long hickory stick which served as alpenstock, a bag hung at his side, +and tied to his back was his gold-pan, the hollow side in, of course. +Shon's was tied a little lower down than the others. + +They passed up this solid river of ice, this giant power at endless +strife with the high hills, up towards its head. The Honourable was the +first to reach the point of vantage, and to look down upon the vast and +wandering fissures, the frigid bulwarks, the great fortresses of ice, the +ceaseless snows, the aisles of this mountain sanctuary through which +Nature's splendid anthems rolled. Shon was a short distance below, with +his hand over his eyes, sweeping the semi-circle of glory. + +Suddenly there was a sharp cry from Pierre: "Mon Dieu! Look!" + +Shon McGann had fallen on a smooth pavement of ice. The gold-pan was +beneath him, and down the glacier he was whirled-whirled, for Shon had +thrust his heels in the snow and ice, and the gold-pan performed a series +of circles as it sped down the incline. His fingers clutched the ice and +snow, but they only left a red mark of blood behind. Must he go the +whole course of that frozen slide, plump into the wild depths below? + +"'Mon Dieu!--mon Dieu!'" said Pretty Pierre, piteously. The face of the +Honourable was set and tense. + +Jo Gordineer's hand clutched his throat as if he choked. Still Shon +sped. It was a matter of seconds only. The tragedy crowded to the awful +end. + +But, no. + +There was a tilt in the glacier, and the gold-pan, suddenly swirling, +again swung to the outer edge, and shot over. + +As if hurled from a catapult, the Irishman was ejected from the white +monster's back. He fell on a wide shelf of ice, covered with light snow, +through which he was tunnelled, and dropped on another ledge below, near +the path by which he and his companions had ascended. "Shied from the +finish, by God!" said Jo Gordineer. "'Le pauvre Shon!'" added Pretty +Pierre. + +The Honourable was making his way down, his brain haunted by the words, +"He'll never go back to Farcalladen more." + +But Jo was right. + +For Shon McGann was alive. He lay breathless, helpless, for a moment; +then he sat up and scanned his lacerated fingers: he looked up the path +by which he had come; he looked down the path he seemed destined to go; +he started to scratch his head, but paused in the act, by reason of his +fingers. + +Then he said: "It's my mother wouldn't know me from a can of cold meat +if I hadn't stopped at this station; but wurrawurra, what a car it was to +come in!" He examined his tattered clothes and bare elbows; then he +unbuckled the gold-pan, and no easy task was it with his ragged fingers. +"'Twas not for deep minin' I brought ye," he said to the pan, "nor for +scrapin' the clothes from me back." + +Just then the Honourable came up. "Shon, my man . . . alive, thank +God! How is it with you?" + +"I'm hardly worth the lookin' at. I wouldn't turn my back to ye for a +ransom." + +"It's enough that you're here at all." + +"Ah, 'voila!' this Irishman!" said Pretty Pierre, as his light fingers +touched Shon's bruised arm gently. This from Pretty Pierre! + +There was that in the voice which went to Shon's heart. Who could have +guessed that this outlaw of the North would ever show a sign of sympathy +or friendship for anybody? But it goes to prove that you can never be +exact in your estimate of character. Jo Gordineer only said jestingly: +"Say, now, what are you doing, Shon, bringing us down here, when we might +be well into the Valley by this time?" + +"That in your face and the hair aff your head," said Shon; "it's little +you know a tobogan ride when you see one. I'll take my share of the +grog, by the same token." + +The Honourable uncorked his flask. Shon threw back his head with a +laugh. + + "For it's rest when the gallop is over, me men! + And it's here's to the lads that have ridden their last; + And it's here's--" + +But Shon had fainted with the flask in his hand and this snatch of a song +on his lips. + +They reached shelter that night. Had it not been for the accident, they +would have got to their destination in the Valley; but here they were +twelve miles from it. Whether this was fortunate or unfortunate may be +seen later. Comfortably bestowed in this mountain tavern, after they had +toasted and eaten their venison and lit their pipes, they drew about the +fire. + +Besides the four, there was a figure that lay sleeping in a corner on a +pile of pine branches, wrapped in a bearskin robe. Whoever it was slept +soundly. + +"And what was it like--the gold-pan flyer--the tobogan ride, Shon?" +remarked Jo Gordineer. + +"What was it like?--what was it like"? replied Shon. "Sure, I couldn't +see what it was like for the stars that were hittin' me in the eyes. +There wasn't any world at all. I was ridin' on a streak of lightnin', +and nivir a rubber for the wheels; and my fingers makin' stripes of blood +on the snow; and now the stars that were hittin' me were white, and thin +they were red, and sometimes blue--" + +"The Stars and Stripes," inconsiderately remarked Jo Gordineer. + +"And there wasn't any beginning to things, nor any end of them; and whin +I struck the snow and cut down the core of it like a cat through a glass, +I was willin' to say with the Prophet of Ireland--" + +"Are you going to pass the liniment, Pretty Pierre?" It was Jo Gordineer +said that. + +What the Prophet of Israel did say--Israel and Ireland were identical to +Shon--was never told. + +Shon's bubbling sarcasm was full-stopped by the beneficent savour that, +rising now from the hands of the four, silenced all irrelevant speech. +It was a function of importance. It was not simply necessary to say How! +or Here's reformation! or I look towards you! As if by a common +instinct, the Honourable, Jo Gordineer, and Pretty Pierre, turned towards +Shon and lifted their glasses. Jo Gordineer was going to say: "Here's a +safe foot in the stirrups to you," but he changed his mind and drank in +silence. + +Shon's eye had been blazing with fun, but it took on, all at once, a +misty twinkle. None of them had quite bargained for this. The feeling +had come like a wave of soft lightning, and had passed through them. Did +it come from the Irishman himself? Was it his own nature acting through +those who called him "partner"? + +Pretty Pierre got up and kicked savagely at the wood in the big +fireplace. He ostentatiously and needlessly put another log of Norfolk- +pine upon the fire. + +The Honourable gaily suggested a song. + +"Sing us 'Avec les Braves Sauvages,' Pierre," said Jo Gordineer. + +But Pierre waved his fingers towards Shon: "Shon, his song--he did not +finish--on the glacier. It is good we hear all. 'Hein?'" + +And so Shon sang: + + "Oh it's down the long side of Farcalladen Rise." + +The sleeper on the pine branches stirred nervously, as if the song were +coming through a dream to him. At the third verse he started up, and an +eager, sun-burned face peered from the half-darkness at the singer. The +Honourable was sitting in the shadow, with his back to the new actor in +the scene. + + "For it's rest when the gallop is over, my men I + And it's here's to the lads that have ridden their last! + And it's here's--" + +Shon paused. One of those strange lapses of memory came to him which +come at times to most of us concerning familiar things. He could get no +further than he did on the mountain side. He passed his hand over his +forehead, stupidly:--"Saints forgive me; but it's gone from me, and sorra +the one can I get it; me that had it by heart, and the lad that wrote it +far away. Death in the world, but I'll try it again! + + "For it's rest when the gallop is over, my men! + And it's here's to the lads that have ridden their last! + And it's here's--" + +Again he paused. + +But from the half-darkness there came a voice, a clear baritone: + + "And here's to the lasses we leave in the glen, + With a smile for the future, a sigh for the past." + +At the last words the figure strode down into the firelight. + +"Shon, old friend, don't you know me?" + +Shon had started to his feet at the first note of the voice, and stood as +if spellbound. + +There was no shaking of hands. Both men held each other hard by the +shoulders, and stood so for a moment looking steadily eye to eye. + +Then Shon said: "Duke Lawless, there's parallels of latitude and +parallels of longitude, but who knows the tomb of ould Brian Borhoime?" + +Which was his way of saying, "How come you here?" Duke Lawless turned to +the others before he replied. His eyes fell on the Honourable. With a +start and a step backward, and with a peculiar angry dryness in his +voice, he said: + +"Just Trafford!" + +"Yes," replied the Honourable, smiling, "I have found you." + +"Found me! And why have you sought me? Me, Duke Lawless? I should have +thought--" + +The Honourable interrupted: "To tell you that you are Sir Duke Lawless." + +"That? You sought me to tell me that?" + +"I did." + +"You are sure? And for naught else?" + +"As I live, Duke." + +The eyes fixed on the Honourable were searching. Sir Duke hesitated, +then held out his hand. In a swift but cordial silence it was taken. +Nothing more could be said then. It is only in plays where gentlemen +freely discuss family affairs before a curious public. Pretty Pierre was +busy with a decoction. Jo Gordineer was his associate. Shon had drawn +back, and was apparently examining the indentations on his gold-pan. + +"Shon, old fellow, come here," said Sir Duke Lawless. + +But Shon had received a shock. "It's little I knew Sir Duke Lawless--" +he said. + +"It's little you needed to know then, or need to know now, Shon, my +friend. I'm Duke Lawless to you here and henceforth, as ever I was then, +on the wallaby track." + +And Shon believed him. The glasses were ready. + +"I'll give the toast," said the Honourable with a gentle gravity. "To +Shon McGann and his Tobogan Ride!" + +"I'll drink to the first half of it with all my heart," said Sir Duke. +"It's all I know about." + +"Amen to that divorce," rejoined Shon. + +"But were it not for the Tobogan Ride we shouldn't have stopped here," +said the Honourable; "and where would this meeting have been?" + +"That alters the case," Sir Duke remarked. "I take back the 'Amen,'" +said Shon. + + + +II + +Whatever claims Shon had upon the companionship of Sir Duke Lawless, +he knew there were other claims that were more pressing. After the toast +was finished, with an emphasised assumption of weariness, and a hint of a +long yarn on the morrow, he picked up his blanket and started for the +room where all were to sleep. The real reason of this early departure +was clear to Pretty Pierre at once, and in due time it dawned upon Jo +Gordineer. + +The two Englishmen, left alone, sat for a few moments silent and smoking +hard. Then the Honourable rose, got his knapsack, and took out a small +number of papers, which he handed to Sir Duke, saying, "By slow postal +service to Sir Duke Lawless. Residence, somewhere on one of five +continents." + +An envelope bearing a woman's writing was the first thing that met Sir +Duke's eye. He stared, took it out, turned it over, looked curiously at +the Honourable for a moment, and then began to break the seal. + +"Wait, Duke. Do not read that. We have something to say to each other +first." + +Sir Duke laid the letter down. "You have some explanation to make," he +said. + +"It was so long ago; mightn't it be better to go over the story again?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Then it is best you should tell it. I am on my defence, you know." + +Sir Duke leaned back, and a frown gathered on his forehead. Strikingly +out of place on his fresh face it seemed. Looking quickly from the fire +to the face of the Honourable and back again earnestly, as if the full +force of what was required came to him, he said: "We shall get the +perspective better if we put the tale in the third person. Duke Lawless +was the heir to the title and estates of Trafford Court. Next in +succession to him was Just Trafford, his cousin. Lawless had an income +sufficient for a man of moderate tastes. Trafford had not quite that, +but he had his profession of the law. At college they had been fast +friends, but afterwards had drifted apart, through no cause save +difference of pursuits and circumstances. Friends they still were and +likely to be so always. One summer, when on a visit to his uncle, +Admiral Sir Clavel Lawless, at Trafford Court, where a party of people +had been invited for a month, Duke Lawless fell in love with Miss Emily +Dorset. She did him the honour to prefer him to any other man--at least, +he thought so. Her income, however, was limited like his own. The +engagement was not announced, for Lawless wished to make a home before he +took a wife. He inclined to ranching in Canada, or a planter's life in +Queensland. The eight or ten thousand pounds necessary was not, however, +easy to get for the start, and he hadn't the least notion of discounting +the future, by asking the admiral's help. Besides, he knew his uncle did +not wish him to marry unless he married a woman plus a fortune. While +things were in this uncertain state, Just Trafford arrived on a visit to +Trafford Court. The meeting of the old friends was cordial. Immediately +on Trafford's arrival, however, the current of events changed. Things +occurred which brought disaster. It was noticeable that Miss Emily +Dorset began to see a deal more of Admiral Lawless and Just Trafford, +and a deal less of the younger Lawless. One day Duke Lawless came back +to the house unexpectedly, his horse having knocked up on the road. +On entering the library he saw what turned the course of his life." +Sir Duke here paused, sighed, shook the ashes out of his pipe with a +grave and expressive anxiety which did not properly belong to the action, +and remained for a moment, both arms on his knees, silent, and looking at +the fire. Then he continued: + +"Just Trafford sat beside Emily Dorset in an attitude of--say, +affectionate consideration. She had been weeping, and her whole manner +suggested very touching confidences. They both rose on the entrance of +Lawless; but neither tried to say a word. What could they say? Lawless +apologised, took a book from the table which he had not come for, and +left." + +Again Sir Duke paused. + +"The book was an illustrated Much Ado About Nothing," said the +Honourable. + +"A few hours after, Lawless had an interview with Emily Dorset. +He demanded, with a good deal of feeling, perhaps,--for he was romantic +enough to love the girl,--an explanation. He would have asked it of +Trafford first if he had seen him. She said Lawless should trust her; +that she had no explanation at that moment to give. If he waited--but +Lawless asked her if she cared for him at all, if she wished or intended +to marry him? She replied lightly, 'Perhaps, when you become Sir Duke +Lawless.' Then Lawless accused her of heartlessness, and of encouraging +both his uncle and Just Trafford. She amusingly said, 'Perhaps she had, +but it really didn't matter, did it?' For reply, Lawless said her +interest in the whole family seemed active and impartial. He bade her +not vex herself at all about him, and not to wait until he became Sir +Duke Lawless, but to give preference to seniority and begin with the +title at once; which he has reason since to believe that she did. What +he said to her he has been sorry for, not because he thinks it was +undeserved, but because he has never been able since to rouse himself to +anger on the subject, nor to hate the girl and Just Trafford as he ought. +Of the dead he is silent altogether. He never sought an explanation from +Just Trafford, for he left that night for London, and in two days was on +his way to Australia. The day he left, however, he received a note from +his banker saying that L8000 had been placed to his credit by Admiral +Lawless. Feeling the indignity of what he believed was the cause of the +gift, Lawless neither acknowledged it nor used it, not any penny of it. +Five years have gone since then, and Lawless has wandered over two +continents, a self-created exile. He has learned much that he didn't +learn at Oxford; and not the least of all, that the world is not so bad +as is claimed for it, that it isn't worth while hating and cherishing +hate, that evil is half-accidental, half-natural, and that hard work in +the face of nature is the thing to pull a man together and strengthen him +for his place in the universe. Having burned his ships behind him, that +is the way Lawless feels. And the story is told." + +Just Trafford sat looking musingly but imperturbably at Sir Duke for a +minute; then he said: + +"That is your interpretation of the story, but not the story. Let us +turn the medal over now. And, first, let Trafford say that he has the +permission of Emily Dorset--" + +Sir Duke interrupted: "Of her who was Emily Dorset." + +"Of Miss Emily Dorset, to tell what she did not tell that day five years +ago. After this other reading of the tale has been rendered, her letter +and those documents are there for fuller testimony. Just Trafford's part +in the drama begins, of course, with the library scene. Now Duke Lawless +had never known Trafford's half-brother, Hall Vincent. Hall was born in +India, and had lived there most of his life. He was in the Indian +Police, and had married a clever, beautiful, but impossible kind of girl, +against the wishes of her parents. The marriage was not a very happy +one. This was partly owing to the quick Lawless and Trafford blood, +partly to the wife's wilfulness. Hall thought that things might go +better if he came to England to live. On their way from Madras to +Colombo he had some words with his wife one day about the way she +arranged her hair, but nothing serious. This was shortly after tiffin. +That evening they entered the harbour at Colombo; and Hall going to his +cabin to seek his wife, could not find her; but in her stead was her +hair, arranged carefully in flowing waves on the pillow, where through +the voyage her head had lain. That she had cut it off and laid it there +was plain; but she could not be found, nor was she ever found. The large +porthole was open; this was the only clue. But we need not go further +into that. Hall Vincent came home to England. He told his brother the +story as it has been told to you, and then left for South America, a +broken-spirited man. The wife's family came on to England also. They +did not meet Hall Vincent; but one day Just Trafford met at a country +seat in Devon, for the first time, the wife's sister. She had not known +of the relationship between Hall Vincent and the Traffords; and on a +memorable afternoon he told her the full story of the married life and +the final disaster, as Hall had told it to him." + +Sir Duke sprang to his feet. "You mean, Just, that--" + +"I mean that Emily Dorset was the sister of Hall Vincent's wife." + +Sir Duke's brown fingers clasped and unclasped nervously. He was about +to speak, but the Honourable said: "That is only half the story--wait. + +"Emily Dorset would have told Lawless all in due time, but women don't +like to be bullied ever so little, and that, and the unhappiness of the +thing, kept her silent in her short interview with Lawless. She could +not have guessed that Lawless would go as he did. Now, the secret of her +diplomacy with the uncle--diplomacy is the best word to use--was Duke +Lawless's advancement. She knew how he had set his heart on the ranching +or planting life. She would have married him without a penny, but she +felt his pride in that particular, and respected it. So, like a clever +girl, she determined to make the old chap give Lawless a cheque on his +possible future. Perhaps, as things progressed, the same old chap got an +absurd notion in his head about marrying her to Just Trafford, but that +was meanwhile all the better for Lawless. The very day that Emily Dorset +and Just Trafford succeeded in melting Admiral Lawless's heart to the +tune of eight thousand, was the day that Duke Lawless doubted his friend +and challenged the loyalty of the girl he loved." + +Sir Duke's eyes filled. "Great Heaven! Just--" he said. + +"Be quiet for a little. You see she had taken Trafford into her scheme +against his will, for he was never good at mysteries and theatricals, and +he saw the danger. But the cause was a good one, and he joined the sweet +conspiracy, with what result these five years bear witness. Admiral +Lawless has been dead a year and a half, his wife a year. For he married +out of anger with Duke Lawless; but he did not marry Emily Dorset, nor +did he beget a child." + +"In Australia I saw a paragraph speaking of a visit made by him and Lady +Lawless to a hospital, and I thought--" + +"You thought he had married Emily Dorset and--well, you had better read +that letter now." + +Sir Duke's face was flushing with remorse and pain. He drew his hand +quickly across his eyes. "And you've given up London, your profession, +everything, just to hunt for me, to tell me this--you who would have +profited by my eternal absence! What a beast and ass I've been!" + +"Not at all; only a bit poetical and hasty, which is not unnatural in the +Lawless blood. I should have been wild myself, maybe, if I had been in +your position; only I shouldn't have left England, and I should have +taken the papers regularly and have asked the other fellow to explain. +The other fellow didn't like the little conspiracy. Women, however, seem +to find that kind of thing a moral necessity. By the way, I wish when +you go back you'd send me out my hunting traps. I've made up my mind +to--oh, quite so--read the letter--I forgot!" + +Sir Duke opened the letter and read it, putting it away from him now and +then as if it hurt him, and taking it up a moment after to continue the +reading. The Honourable watched him. + +At last Sir Duke rose. "Just--" + +"Yes? Go on." + +"Do you think she would have me now?" + +"Don't know. Your outfit is not so beautiful as it used to be." + +"Don't chaff me." + +"Don't be so funereal, then." + +Under the Honourable's matter of fact air Sir Duke's face began to clear. +"Tell me, do you think she still cares for me?" + +"Well, I don't know. She's rich now--got the grandmother's stocking. +Then there's Pedley, of the Scots Guards; he has been doing loyal service +for a couple of years. What does the letter say?" + +"It only tells the truth, as you have told it to me, but from her +standpoint; not a word that says anything but beautiful reproach and +general kindness. That is all." + +"Quite so. You see it was all four years ago, and Pedley--" + +But the Honourable paused. He had punished his friend enough. He +stepped forward and laid his hand on Sir Duke's shoulder. "Duke, you +want to pick up the threads where they were dropped. You dropped them. +Ask me nothing about the ends that Emily Dorset held. I conspire no +more. But go you and learn your fate. If one remembers, why should the +other forget?" + +Sir Duke's light heart and eager faith came back with a rush. "I'll +start for England at once. I'll know the worst or the best of it before +three months are out." The Honourable's slow placidity turned. + +"Three months.--Yes, you may do it in that time. Better go from Victoria +to San Francisco and then overland. You'll not forget about my hunting +traps, and--oh, certainly, Gordineer; come in." + +"Say," said Gordineer. "I don't want to disturb the meeting, but Shon's +in chancery somehow; breathing like a white pine, and thrashing about! +He's red-hot with fever." + +Before he had time to say more, Sir Duke seized the candle and entered +the room. Shon was moving uneasily and suppressing the groans that shook +him. "Shon, old friend, what is it?" + +"It's the pain here, Lawless," laying his hand on his chest. + +After a moment Sir Duke said, "Pneumonia!" + +From that instant thoughts of himself were sunk in the care and thought +of the man who in the heart of Queensland had been mate and friend and +brother to him. He did not start for England the next day, nor for many +a day. + +Pretty Pierre and Jo Gordineer and his party carried Sir Duke's letters +over into the Pipi Valley, from where they could be sent on to the coast. +Pierre came back in a few days to see how Shon was, and expressed his +determination of staying to help Sir Duke, if need be. + +Shon hovered between life and death. It was not alone the pneumonia +that racked his system so; there was also the shock he had received in +his flight down the glacier. In his delirium he seemed to be always +with Lawless: + +"'For it's down the long side of Farcalladen Rise'--It's share and share +even, Lawless, and ye'll ate the rest of it, or I'll lave ye--Did ye say +ye'd found water--Lawless--water!--Sure you're drinkin' none yourself-- +I'll sing it again for you then--'And it's back with the ring of the +chain and the spur'--'But burn all your ships behind you'--'I'll never go +back to Farcalladen more!'" + +Sir Duke's fingers had a trick of kindness, a suggestion of comfort, +a sense of healing, that made his simple remedies do more than natural +duty. He was doctor, nurse,--sleepless nurse,--and careful apothecary. +And when at last the danger was past and he could relax watching, he +would not go, and he did not go, till they could all travel to the Pipi +Valley. + +In the blue shadows of the firs they stand as we take our leave of one +of them. The Honourable and Sir Duke have had their last words, and Sir +Duke has said he will remember about the hunting traps. They understand +each other. There is sunshine in the face of all--a kind of Indian +summer sunshine, infused with the sadness of a coming winter; and theirs +is the winter of parting. Yet it is all done quietly. + +"We'll meet again, Shon," said Sir Duke, "and you'll remember your +promise to write to me." + +"I'll keep my promise, and I hope the news that'll please you best is +what you'll send us first from England. And if you should go to ould +Donegal--I've no words for me thoughts at all!" + +"I know them. Don't try to say them. We've not had the luck together, +all kinds and all weathers, for nothing." + +Sir Duke's eyes smiled a good-bye into the smiling eyes of Shon. They +were much alike, these two, whose stations were so far apart. Yet +somewhere, in generations gone, their ancestors may have toiled, feasted, +or governed, in the same social hemisphere; and here in the mountains +life was levelled to one degree again. + +Sir Duke looked round. The pines were crowding up elate and warm towards +the peaks of the white silence. The river was brawling over a broken +pathway of boulders at their feet; round the edge of a mighty mountain +crept a mule train; a far-off glacier glistened harshly in the lucid +morning, yet not harshly either, but with the rugged form of a vast +antiquity, from which these scarred and grimly austere hills had grown. +Here Nature was filled with a sense of triumphant mastery--the mastery +of ageless experience. And down the great piles there blew a wind of +stirring life, of the composure of great strength, and touched the four, +and the man that mounted now was turned to go. A quick good-bye from him +to all; a God-speed-you from the Honourable; a wave of the hand between +the rider and Shon, and Sir Duke Lawless was gone. + +"You had better cook the last of that bear this morning, Pierre," said +the Honourable. And their life went on. + + ........................ + +It was eight months after that, sitting in their hut after a day's +successful mining, the Honourable handed Shon a newspaper to read. +A paragraph was marked. It concerned the marriage of Miss Emily Dorset +and Sir Duke Lawless. + +And while Shon read, the Honourable called into the tent: "Have you any +lemons for the whisky, Pierre?" + +A satisfactory reply being returned, the Honourable proceeded: "We'll +begin with the bottle of Pommery, which I've been saving months for +this." + +The royal-flush toast of the evening belonged to Shon. + +"God bless him! To the day when we see him again!" + +And all of them saw that day. + + + + + + +PERE CHAMPAGNE + +"Is it that we stand at the top of the hill and the end of the travel has +come, Pierre? Why don't you spake?" + +"We stand at the top of the hill, and it is the end." + +"And Lonely Valley is at our feet and Whiteface Mountain beyond?" + +"One at our feet, and the other beyond, Shon McGann." + +"It's the sight of my eyes I wish I had in the light of the sun this +mornin'. Tell me, what is't you see?" + +"I see the trees on the foot-hills, and all the branches shine with +frost. There is a path--so wide!--between two groves of pines. On +Whiteface Mountain lies a glacier-field . . . and all is still." . . . + +"The voice of you is far-away-like, Pierre--it shivers as a hawk cries. +It's the wind, the wind, maybe." + +"There's not a breath of life from hill or valley." + +"But I feel it in my face." + +"It is not the breath of life you feel." + +"Did you not hear voices coming athwart the wind? . . . Can you see the +people at the mines?" + +"I have told you what I see." + +"You told me of the pine-trees, and the glacier, and the snow--" + +"And that is all." + +"But in the Valley, in the Valley, where all the miners are?" + +"I cannot see them." + +"For love of heaven, don't tell me that the dark is fallin' on your eyes +too." + +"No, Shon, I am not growing blind." + +"Will you not tell me what gives the ache to your words?" + +"I see in the Valley--snow . . . snow." + +"It's a laugh you have at me in your cheek, whin I'd give years of my +ill-spent life to watch the chimney smoke come curlin' up slow through +the sharp air in the Valley there below." + +"There is no chimney and there is no smoke in all the Valley." + +"Before God, if you're a man, you'll put your hand on my arm and tell me +what trouble quakes your speech." + +"Shon McGann, it is for you to make the sign of the Cross . . . there, +while I put my hand on your shoulder--so!" + +"Your hand is heavy, Pierre." + +"This is the sight of the eyes that see. In the Valley there is snow; +in the snow of all that was, there is one poppet-head of the mine that +was called St. Gabriel . . . upon the poppet-head there is the figure +of a woman." + +"Ah!" + +"She does not move--" + +"She will never move?" + +"She will never move." + +"The breath o' my body hurts me. . . . There is death in the Valley, +Pierre?" + +"There is death." + +"It was an avalanche--that path between the pines?" + +"And a great storm after." + +"Blessed be God that I cannot behold that thing this day! . . . And +the woman, Pierre, the woman aloft?" + +"She went to watch for someone coming, and as she watched, the avalanche +came--and she moves not." + +"Do we know that woman?" + +"Who can tell?" + +"What was it you whispered soft to yourself, then, Pierre?" + +"I whispered no word." + +"There, don't you hear it, soft and sighin'? . . . Nathalie!" + +"'Mon Dieu!' It is not of the world." + +"It's facin' the poppet-head where she stands I'd be." + +"Your face is turned towards her." + +"Where is the sun?" + +"The sun stands still above her head." + +"With the bitter over, and the avil past, come rest for her and all that +lie there." + +"Eh, 'bien,' the game is done!" + +"If we stay here we shall die also." + +"If we go we die, perhaps." . . . + +"Don't spake it. We will go, and we will return when the breath of +summer comes from the South." + +"It shall be so." + +"Hush! Did you not hear--?" + +"I did not hear. I only see an eagle, and it flies towards Whiteface +Mountain." + +And Shon McGann and Pretty Pierre turned back from the end of their +quest--from a mighty grave behind to a lonely waste before; and though +one was snow-blind, and the other knew that on him fell the chiefer +weight of a great misfortune, for he must provide food and fire and be as +a mother to his comrade--they had courage; without which, men are as the +standing straw in an unreaped field in winter; but having become like the +hooded pine, that keepeth green in frost, and hath the bounding blood in +all its icy branches. + +And whence they came and wherefore was as thus: + +A French Canadian once lived in Lonely Valley. One day great fortune +came to him, because it was given him to discover the mine St. Gabriel. +And he said to the woman who loved him, "I will go with mules and much +gold, that I have hewn and washed and gathered, to a village in the East +where my father and my mother are. They are poor, but I will make them +rich; and then I will return to Lonely Valley, and a priest shall come +with me, and we will dwell here at Whiteface Mountain, where men are men +and not children." And the woman blessed him, and prayed for him, and +let him go. + +He travelled far through passes of the mountains, and came at last where +new cities lay upon the plains, and where men were full of evil and of +lust of gold. And he was free of hand and light of heart; and at a place +called Diamond City false friends came about him, and gave him champagne +wine to drink, and struck him down and robbed him, leaving him for dead. + +And he was found, and his wounds were all healed: all save one, and that +was in the brain. Men called him mad. + +He wandered through the land, preaching to men to drink no wine, and to +shun the sight of gold. And they laughed at him, and called him Pere +Champagne. + +But one day much gold was found at a place called Reef o' Angel; and +jointly with the gold came a plague which scars the face and rots the +body; and Indians died by hundreds and white men by scores; and Pere +Champagne, of all who were not stricken down, feared nothing, and did not +flee, but went among the sick and dying, and did those deeds which gold +cannot buy, and prayed those prayers which were never sold. And who can +count how high the prayers of the feckless go! + +When none was found to bury the dead, he gave them place himself beneath +the prairie earth,--consecrated only by the tears of a fool,--and for +extreme unction he had but this: "God be merciful to me, a sinner!" + +Now it happily chanced that Pierre and Shon McGann, who travelled +westward, came upon this desperate battle-field, and saw how Pere +Champagne dared the elements of scourge and death; and they paused and +laboured with him--to save where saving was granted of Heaven, and to +bury when the Reaper reaped and would not stay his hand. At last the +plague ceased, because winter stretched its wings out swiftly o'er the +plains from frigid ranges in the West. And then Pere Champagne fell ill +again. + +And this last great sickness cured his madness: and he remembered whence +he had come, and what befell him at Diamond City so many moons ago. And +he prayed them, when he knew his time was come, that they would go to +Lonely Valley and tell his story to the woman whom he loved; and say that +he was going to a strange but pleasant Land, and that there he would +await her coming. He begged them that they would go at once, that she +might know, and not strain her eyes to blindness, and be sick at heart +because he came not. And he told them her name, and drew the coverlet up +about his head and seemed to sleep; but he waked between the day and +dark, and gently cried: "The snow is heavy on the mountain . . . and +the Valley is below. . . . 'Gardez, mon Pere!' . . . Ah, Nathalie!" +And they buried him between the dark and dawn. + +Though winds were fierce, and travel full of peril, they kept their word, +and passed along wide steppes of snow, until they entered passes of the +mountains, and again into the plains; and at last one 'poudre' day, when +frost was shaking like shreds of faintest silver through the air, Shon +McGann's sight fled. But he would not turn back--a promise to a dying +man was sacred, and he could follow if he could not lead; and there was +still some pemmican, and there were martens in the woods, and wandering +deer that good spirits hunted into the way of the needy; and Pierre's +finger along the gun was sure. + +Pierre did not tell Shon that for many days they travelled woods where no +sunshine entered; where no trail had ever been, nor foot of man had trod: +that they had lost their way. Nor did he make his comrade know that one +night he sat and played a game of solitaire to see if they would ever +reach the place called Lonely Valley. Before the cards were dealt, he +made a sign upon his breast and forehead. Three times he played, and +three times he counted victory; and before three suns had come and gone, +they climbed a hill that perched over Lonely Valley. And of what they +saw and their hearts felt we know. + +And when they turned their faces eastward they were as men who go to meet +a final and a conquering enemy; but they had kept their honour with the +man upon whose grave-tree Shon McGann had carved beneath his name these +words: + + "A Brother of Aaron." + +Upon a lonely trail they wandered, the spirits of lost travellers +hungering in their wake--spirits that mumbled in cedar thickets, and +whimpered down the flumes of snow. And Pierre, who knew that evil things +are exorcised by mighty conjuring, sang loudly, from a throat made thin +by forced fasting, a song with which his mother sought to drive away the +devils of dreams that flaunted on his pillow when a child: it was the +song of the Scarlet Hunter. And the charm sufficed; for suddenly of a +cheerless morning they came upon a trapper's hut in the wilderness, where +their sufferings ceased, and the sight of Shon's eyes came back. When +strength returned also, they journeyed to an Indian village, where a +priest laboured. Him they besought; and when spring came they set forth +to Lonely Valley again that the woman and the smothered dead--if it might +chance so--should be put away into peaceful graves. But thither coming +they only saw a grey and churlish river; and the poppet-head of the mine +of St. Gabriel, and she who had knelt thereon, were vanished into +solitudes, where only God's cohorts have the rights of burial. . . . + +But the priest prayed humbly for their so swiftly summoned souls. + + + + + + +THE SCARLET HUNTER + +"News out of Egypt!" said the Honourable Just Trafford. "If this is +true, it gives a pretty finish to the season. You think it possible, +Pierre? It is every man's talk that there isn't a herd of buffaloes in +the whole country; but this-eh?" + +Pierre did not seem disposed to answer. He had been watching a man's +face for some time; but his eyes were now idly following the smoke of his +cigarette as it floated away to the ceiling in fading circles. He seemed +to take no interest in Trafford's remarks, nor in the tale that Shangi +the Indian had told them; though Shangi and his tale were both +sufficiently uncommon to justify attention. + +Shon McGann was more impressionable. His eyes swam; his feet shifted +nervously with enjoyment; he glanced frequently at his gun in the corner +of the hut; he had watched Trafford's face with some anxiety, and +accepted the result of the tale with delight. Now his look was occupied +with Pierre. + +Pierre was a pretty good authority in all matters concerning the prairies +and the North. He also had an instinct for detecting veracity, having +practised on both sides of the equation. Trafford became impatient, and +at last the half-breed, conscious that he had tried the temper of his +chief so far as was safe, lifted his eyes, and, resting them casually on +the Indian, replied: "Yes, I know the place. . . . No, I have not +been there, but I was told-ah, it was long ago! There is a great valley +between hills, the Kimash Hills, the hills of the Mighty Men. The woods +are deep and dark; there is but one trail through them, and it is old. +On the highest hill is a vast mound. In that mound are the forefathers +of a nation that is gone. Yes, as you say, they are dead, and there is +none of them alive in the valley--which is called the White Valley--where +the buffalo are. The valley is green in summer, and the snow is not deep +in winter; the noses of the buffalo can find the tender grass. The Injin +speaks the truth, perhaps. But of the number of buffaloes, one must see. +The eye of the red man multiplies." + +Trafford looked at Pierre closely. "You seem to know the place very +well. It is a long way north where--ah yes, you said you had never been +there; you were told. Who told you?" + +The half-breed raised his eyebrows slightly as he replied: "I can +remember a long time, and my mother, she spoke much and sang many songs +at the campfires." Then he puffed his cigarette so that the smoke +clouded his face for a moment, and went on,--"I think there may be +buffaloes." + +"It's along the barrel of me gun I wish I was lookin' at thim now," said +McGann. + +"'Tiens,' you will go"? inquired Pierre of Trafford. "To have a shot at +the only herd of wild buffaloes on the continent! Of course I'll go. +I'd go to the North Pole for that. Sport and novelty I came here to see; +buffalo-hunting I did not expect. I'm in luck, that's all. We'll start +to-morrow morning, if we can get ready, and Shangi here will lead us; eh, +Pierre?" + +The half-breed again was not polite. Instead of replying he sang almost +below his breath the words of a song unfamiliar to his companions, though +the Indian's eyes showed a flash of understanding. These were the words: + + "They ride away with a waking wind, away, away! + With laughing lip and with jocund mind at break of day. + A rattle of hoofs and a snatch of song, they ride, they ride! + The plains are wide and the path is long,--so long, so wide!" + +Just Trafford appeared ready to deal with this insolence, for the half- +breed was after all a servant of his, a paid retainer. He waited, +however. Shon saw the difficulty, and at once volunteered a reply. +"It's aisy enough to get away in the mornin', but it's a question how far +we'll be able to go with the horses. The year is late; but there's dogs +beyand, I suppose, and bedad, there y' are!" + +The Indian spoke slowly: "It is far off. There is no colour yet in the +leaf of the larch. The river-hen still swims northward. It is good that +we go. There is much buffalo in the White Valley." + +Again Trafford looked towards his follower, and again the half-breed, +as if he were making an effort to remember, sang abstractedly: + + "They follow, they follow a lonely trail, by day, by night, + By distant sun, and by fire-fly pale, and northern light. + The ride to the Hills of the Mighty Men, so swift they go! + Where buffalo feed in the wilding glen in sun and snow." + +"Pierre," said Trafford, sharply, "I want an answer to my question." + +"'Mais, pardon,' I was thinking . . . well, we can ride until the deep +snows come, then we can walk; and Shangi, he can get the dogs, maybe, one +team of dogs." + +"But," was the reply, "one team of dogs will not be enough. We'll bring +meat and hides, you know, as well as pemmican. We won't cache any +carcases up there. What would be the use? We shall have to be back in +the Pipi Valley by the spring-time." + +"Well," said the half-breed with a cold decision, "one team of dogs will +be enough; and we will not cache, and we shall be back in the Pipi Valley +before the spring, perhaps." But this last word was spoken under his +breath. + +And now the Indian spoke, with his deep voice and dignified manner: +"Brothers, it is as I have said, the trail is lonely and the woods are +deep and dark. Since the time when the world was young, no white man +hath been there save one, and behold sickness fell on him; the grave is +his end. It is a pleasant land, for the gods have blessed it to the +Indian forever. No heathen shall possess it. But you shall see the +White Valley and the buffalo. Shangi will lead, because you have been +merciful to him, and have given him to sleep in your wigwam, and to eat +of your wild meat. There are dogs in the forest. I have spoken." + +Trafford was impressed, and annoyed too. He thought too much sentiment +was being squandered on a very practical and sportive thing. He disliked +functions; speech-making was to him a matter for prayer and fasting. The +Indian's address was therefore more or less gratuitous, and he hastened +to remark: "Thank you, Shangi; that's very good, and you've put it +poetically. You've turned a shooting-excursion into a mediaeval romance. +But we'll get down to business now, if you please, and make the romance a +fact, beautiful enough to send to the 'Times' or the New York 'Call'. +Let's see, how would they put it in the Call?--'Extraordinary Discovery +--Herd of buffaloes found in the far North by an Englishman and his +Franco-Irish Party--Sport for the gods--Exodus of 'brules' to White +Valley!'--and so on, screeching to the end." + +Shon laughed heartily. "The fun of the world is in the thing," he said; +"and a day it would be for a notch on a stick and a rasp of gin in the +throat. And if I get the sight of me eye on a buffalo-ruck, it's down on +me knees I'll go, and not for prayin' aither. Here's both hands up for a +start in the mornin'!" + +Long before noon next day they were well on their way. Trafford could +not understand why Pierre was so reserved, and, when speaking, so +ironical. It was noticeable that the half-breed watched the Indian +closely, that he always rode behind him, that he never drank out of the +same cup. The leader set this down to the natural uncertainty of +Pierre's disposition. He had grown to like Pierre, as the latter had +come in course to respect him. Each was a man of value after his kind. +Each also had recognised in the other qualities of force and knowledge +having their generation in experiences which had become individuality, +subterranean and acute, under a cold surface. It was the mutual +recognition of these equivalents that led the two men to mutual trust, +only occasionally disturbed, as has been shown; though one was regarded +as the most fastidious man of his set in London, the fairest-minded of +friends, the most comfortable of companions; while the other was an +outlaw, a half-heathen, a lover of but one thing in this world, the +joyous god of Chance. Pierre was essentially a gamester. He would have +extracted satisfaction out of a death-sentence which was contingent on +the trumping of an ace. His only honour was the honour of the game. + +Now, with all the swelling prairie sloping to the clear horizon, and the +breath of a large life in their nostrils, these two men were caught up +suddenly, as it were, by the throbbing soul of the North, so that the +subterranean life in them awoke and startled them. Trafford conceived +that tobacco was the charm with which to exorcise the spirits of the +past. Pierre let the game of sensations go on, knowing that they pay +themselves out in time. His scheme was the wiser. The other found that +fast riding and smoking were not sufficient. He became surrounded by the +ghosts of yesterdays; and at length he gave up striving with them, and +let them storm upon him, until a line of pain cut deeply across his +forehead, and bitterly and unconsciously he cried aloud,--"Hester, ah, +Hester!" + +But having spoken, the spell was broken, and he was aware of the beat of +hoofs beside him, and Shangi the Indian looking at him with a half smile. +Something in the look thrilled him; it was fantastic, masterful. He +wondered that he had not noticed this singular influence before. After +all, he was only a savage with cleaner buckskin than his race usually +wore. Yet that glow, that power in the face--was he Piegan, Blackfoot, +Cree, Blood? Whatever he was, this man had heard the words which broke +so painfully from him. + +He saw the Indian frame her name upon his lips, and then came the words, +"Hester--Hester Orval!" + +He turned sternly, and said, "Who are you? What do you know of Hester +Orval?" + +The Indian shook his head gravely, and replied, "You spoke her name, my +brother." + +"I spoke one word of her name. You have spoken two." + +"One does not know what one speaks. There are words which are as sounds, +and words which are as feelings. Those come to the brain through the +ear; these to the soul through sign, which is more than sound. The +Indian hath knowledge, even as the white man; and because his heart is +open, the trees whisper to him; he reads the language of the grass and +the wind, and is taught by the song of the bird, the screech of the hawk, +the bark of the fox. And so he comes to know the heart of the man who +hath sickness, and calls upon someone, even though it be a weak woman, +to cure his sickness; who is bowed low as beside a grave, and would stand +upright. Are not my words wise? As the thoughts of a child that dreams, +as the face of the blind, the eye of the beast, or the anxious hand of +the poor, are they not simple, and to be understood?" + +Just Trafford made no reply. But behind, Pierre was singing in the +plaintive measure of a chant: + + "A hunter rideth the herd abreast, + The Scarlet Hunter from out of the West, + Whose arrows with points of flame are drest, + Who loveth the beast of the field the best, + The child and the young bird out of the nest, + They ride to the hunt no more, no more!" + +They travelled beyond all bounds of civilisation; beyond the northernmost +Indian villages, until the features of the landscape became more rugged +and solemn, and at last they paused at a place which the Indian called +Misty Mountain, and where, disappearing for an hour, he returned with a +team of Eskimo dogs, keen, quick-tempered, and enduring. They had all +now recovered from the disturbing sentiments of the first portion of the +journey; life was at full tide; the spirit of the hunter was on them. + +At length one night they camped in a vast pine grove wrapped in coverlets +of snow and silent as death. Here again Pierre became moody and alert +and took no part in the careless chat at the camp-fire led by Shon +McGann. The man brooded and looked mysterious. Mystery was not pleasing +to Trafford. He had his own secrets, but in the ordinary affairs of life +he preferred simplicity. In one of the silences that fell between Shon's +attempts to give hilarity to the occasion, there came a rumbling far-off +sound, a sound that increased in volume till the earth beneath them +responded gently to the vibration. Trafford looked up inquiringly at +Pierre, and then at the Indian, who, after a moment, said slowly: "Above +us are the hills of the Mighty Men, beneath us is the White Valley. It +is the tramp of buffalo that we hear. A storm is coming, and they go to +shelter in the mountains." + +The information had come somewhat suddenly, and McGann was the first to +recover from the pleasant shock: "It's divil a wink of sleep I'll get +this night, with the thought of them below there ripe for slaughter, and +the tumble of fight in their beards." + +Pierre, with a meaning glance from his half-closed eyes, added: "But it +is the old saying of the prairies that you do not shout dinner till you +have your knife in the loaf. Your knife is not yet in the loaf, Shon +McGann." + +The boom of the trampling ceased, and now there was a stirring in the +snow-clad tree tops, and a sound as if all the birds of the North were +flying overhead. The weather began to moan and the boles of the pines to +quake. And then there came war,--a trouble out of the north, a wave of +the breath of God to show inconsequent man that he who seeks to live by +slaughter hath slaughter for his master. + +They hung over the fire while the forest cracked round them, and the +flame smarted with the flying snow. And now the trees, as if the +elements were closing in on them, began to break close by, and one +lurched forward towards them. Trafford, to avoid its stroke, stepped +quickly aside right into the line of another which he did not see. +Pierre sprang forward and swung him clear, but was himself struck +senseless by an outreaching branch. + +As if satisfied with this achievement, the storm began to subside. When +Pierre recovered consciousness Trafford clasped his hand and said,-- +"You've a sharp eye, a quick thought, and a deft arm, comrade." + +"Ah, it was in the game. It is good play to assist your partner," the +half-breed replied sententiously. Through all, the Indian had remained +stoical. But McGann, who swore by Trafford--as he had once sworn by +another of the Trafford race--had his heart on his lips, and said: + + "There's a swate little cherub that sits up aloft, + Who cares for the soul of poor Jack!" + +It was long after midnight ere they settled down again, with the wreck of +the forest round them. Only the Indian slept; the others were alert and +restless. They were up at daybreak, and on their way before sunrise, +filled with desire for prey. They had not travelled far before they +emerged upon a plateau. Around them were the hills of the Mighty Men-- +austere, majestic; at their feet was a vast valley on which the light +newly-fallen snow had not hidden all the grass. Lonely and lofty, it was +a world waiting chastely to be peopled! And now it was peopled, for +there came from a cleft of the hills an army of buffaloes lounging slowly +down the waste, with tossing manes and hoofs stirring the snow into a +feathery scud. + +The eyes of Trafford and McGann swam; Pierre's face was troubled, and +strangely enough he made the sign of the cross. + +At that instant Trafford saw smoke issuing from a spot on the mountain +opposite. He turned to the Indian: "Someone lives there"? he said. + +"It is the home of the dead, but life is also there." + +"White man, or Indian?" + +But no reply came. The Indian pointed instead to the buffalo rumbling +down the valley. Trafford forgot the smoke, forgot everything except +that splendid quarry. Shon was excited. "Sarpints alive," he said, +"look at the troops of thim! Is it standin' here we are with our tongues +in our cheeks, whin there's bastes to be killed, and mate to be got, and +the call to war on the ground below! Clap spurs with your heels, sez I, +and down the side of the turf together and give 'em the teeth of our +guns!" The Irishman dashed down the slope. In an instant, all followed, +or at least Trafford thought all followed, swinging their guns across +their saddles to be ready for this excellent foray. But while Pierre +rode hard, it was at first without the fret of battle in him, and he +smiled strangely, for he knew that the Indian had disappeared as they +rode down the slope, though how and why he could not tell. There ran +through his head tales chanted at camp-fires when he was not yet in +stature so high as the loins that bore him. They rode hard, and yet they +came no nearer to that flying herd straining on with white streaming +breath and the surf of snow rising to their quarters. Mile upon mile, +and yet they could not ride these monsters down! + +Now Pierre was leading. There was a kind of fury in his face, and he +seemed at last to gain on them. But as the herd veered close to a wall +of stalwart pines, a horseman issued from the trees and joined the +cattle. The horseman was in scarlet from head to foot; and with his +coming the herd went faster, and ever faster, until they vanished into +the mountain-side; and they who pursued drew in their trembling horses +and stared at each other with wonder in their faces. + +"In God's name what does it mean"? Trafford cried. + +"Is it a trick of the eye or the hand of the devil"? added Shon. + +"In the name of God we shall know perhaps. If it is the hand of the +devil it is not good for us," remarked Pierre. + +"Who was the man in scarlet who came from the woods"? asked Trafford of +the half-breed. + +"'Voila,' it is strange! There is an old story among the Indians! My +mother told many tales of the place and sang of it, as I sang to you. +The legend was this:--In the hills of the North which no white man, nor +no Injin of this time hath seen, the forefathers of the red men sleep; +but some day they will wake again and go forth and possess all the land; +and the buffalo are for them when that time shall come, that they may +have the fruits of the chase, and that it be as it was of old, when the +cattle were as clouds on the horizon. And it was ordained that one of +these mighty men who had never been vanquished in fight, nor done an evil +thing, and was the greatest of all the chiefs, should live and not die, +but be as a sentinel, as a lion watching, and preserve the White Valley +in peace until his brethren waked and came into their own again. And him +they called the Scarlet Hunter; and to this hour the red men pray to him +when they lose their way upon the plains, or Death draws aside the +curtains of the wigwam to call them forth." + +"Repeat the verses you sang, Pierre," said Trafford. The half-breed did +so. When he came to the words, "Who loveth the beast of the field the +best," the Englishman looked round. "Where is Shangi"? he asked. +McGann shook his head in astonishment and negation. Pierre explained: +"On the mountain-side where we ride down he is not seen--he vanish . . . +'mon Dieu,' look!" + +On the slope of the mountain stood the Scarlet Hunter with drawn bow. +From it an arrow flew over their heads with a sorrowful twang, and fell +where the smoke rose among the pines; then the mystic figure disappeared. + +McGann shuddered, and drew himself together. "It is the place of +spirits," he said; "and it's little I like it, God knows; but I'll follow +that Scarlet Hunter, or red devil, or whatever he is, till I drop, if the +Honourable gives the word. For flesh and blood I'm not afraid of; and +the other we come to, whether we will or not, one day." + +But Trafford said: "No, we'll let it stand where it is for the present. +Something has played our eyes false, or we're brought here to do work +different from buffalo-hunting. Where that arrow fell among the smoke +we must go first. Then, as I read the riddle, we travel back the way we +came. There are points in connection with the Pipi Valley superior to +the hills of the Mighty Men." + +They rode away across the glade, and through a grove of pines upon a +hill, till they stood before a log but with parchment windows. + +Trafford knocked, but there was no response. He opened the door and +entered. He saw a figure rise painfully from a couch in a corner,--the +figure of a woman young and beautiful, but wan and worn. She seemed +dazed and inert with suffering, and spoke mournfully: "It is too late. +Not you, nor any of your race, nor anything on earth can save him. He is +dead--dead now." + +At the first sound of her voice Trafford started. He drew near to her, +as pale as she was, and wonder and pity were in his face. "Hester," he +said, "Hester Orval!" + +She stared at him like one that had been awakened from an evil dream, +then tottered towards him with the cry,--"Just, Just, have you come to +save me? O Just!" His distress was sad to see, for it was held in deep +repression, but he said calmly and with protecting gentleness: "Yes, I +have come to save you. Hester, how is it you are here in this strange +place--you?" + +She sobbed so that at first she could not answer; but at last she cried: +"O Just, he is dead . . . in there, in there! . . . Last night, it +was last night; and he prayed that I might go with him. But I could not +die unforgiven, and I was right, for you have come out of the world to +help me, and to save me." + +"Yes, to help you and to save you,--if I can," he added in a whisper to +himself, for he was full of foreboding. He was of the earth, earthy, and +things that had chanced to him this day were beyond the natural and +healthy movements of his mind. He had gone forth to slay, and had been +foiled by shadows; he had come with a tragic, if beautiful, memory +haunting him, and that memory had clothed itself in flesh and stood +before him, pitiful, solitary,--a woman. He had scorned all legend and +superstition, and here both were made manifest to him. He had thought of +this woman as one who was of this world no more, and here she mourned +before him and bade him go and look upon her dead, upon the man who had +wronged him, into whom, as he once declared, the soul of a cur had +entered,--and now what could he say? He had carried in his heart the +infinite something that is to men the utmost fulness of life, which, +losing, they must carry lead upon their shoulders where they thought the +gods had given pinions. + +McGann and Pierre were nervous. This conjunction of unusual things was +easier to the intelligences of the dead than the quick. The outer air +was perhaps less charged with the unnatural, and with a glance towards +the room where death was quartered, they left the hut. + +Trafford was alone with the woman through whom his life had been turned +awry. He looked at her searchingly; and as he looked the mere man in him +asserted itself for a moment. She was dressed in coarse garments; it +struck him that her grief had a touch of commonness about it; there was +something imperfect in the dramatic setting. His recent experiences had +had a kind of grandeur about them; it was not thus that he had remembered +her in the hour when he had called upon her in the plains, and the Indian +had heard his cry. He felt, and was ashamed in feeling, that there was +a grim humour in the situation. The fantastic, the melodramatic, the +emotional, were huddled here in too marked a prominence; it all seemed, +for an instant, like the tale of a woman's first novel. But immediately +again there was roused in him the latent force of loyalty to himself and +therefore to her; the story of her past, so far as he knew it, flashed +before him, and his eyes grew hot. + +He remembered the time he had last seen her in an English country-house +among a gay party in which royalty smiled, and the subject was content +beneath the smile. But there was one rebellious subject, and her name +was Hester Orval. She was a wilful girl who had lived life selfishly +within the lines of that decorous yet pleasant convention to which she +was born. She was beautiful,--she knew that, and royalty had graciously +admitted it. She was warm-thoughted, and possessed the fatal strain of +the artistic temperament. She was not sure that she had a heart; and +many others, not of her sex, after varying and enthusiastic study of the +matter, were not more confident than she. But it had come at last that +she had listened with pensive pleasure to Trafford's tale of love; and +because to be worshipped by a man high in all men's, and in most women's, +esteem, ministered delicately to her sweet egotism, and because she was +proud of him, she gave him her hand in promise, and her cheek in +privilege, but denied him--though he knew this not--her heart and the +service of her life. But he was content to wait patiently for that +service, and he wholly trusted her, for there was in him some fine spirit +of the antique world. + +There had come to Falkenstowe, this country-house and her father's home, +a man who bore a knightly name, but who had no knightly heart; and he +told Ulysses' tales, and covered a hazardous and cloudy past with that +fascinating colour which makes evil appear to be good, so that he roused +in her the pulse of art, which she believed was soul and life, and her +allegiance swerved. And when her mother pleaded with her, and when her +father said stern things, and even royalty, with uncommon use, rebuked +her gently, her heart grew hard; and almost on the eve of her wedding-day +she fled with her lover, and married him, and together they sailed away +over the seas. + +The world was shocked and clamorous for a matter of nine days, and then +it forgot this foolish and awkward circumstance; but Just Trafford never +forgot it. He remembered all vividly until the hour, a year later, when +London journals announced that Hester Orval and her husband had gone down +with a vessel wrecked upon the Alaskan and Canadian coast. And there new +regret began, and his knowledge of her ended. + +But she and her husband had not been drowned; with a sailor they had +reached the shore in safety. They had travelled inland from the coast +through the great mountains by unknown paths, and as they travelled, the +sailor died; and they came at last through innumerable hardships to the +Kimash Hills, the hills of the Mighty Men, and there they stayed. It was +not an evil land; it had neither deadly cold in winter nor wanton heat in +summer. But they never saw a human face, and everything was lonely and +spectral. For a time they strove to go eastwards or southwards but the +mountains were impassable, and in the north and west there was no hope. +Though the buffalo swept by them in the valley they could not slay them, +and they lived on forest fruits until in time the man sickened. The +woman nursed him faithfully, but still he failed; and when she could go +forth no more for food, some unseen dweller of the woods brought buffalo +meat, and prairie fowl, and water from the spring, and laid them beside +her door. + +She had seen the mounds upon the hill, the wide couches of the sleepers, +and she remembered the things done in the days when God seemed nearer to +the sons of men than now; and she said that a spirit had done this thing, +and trembled and was thankful. But the man weakened and knew that he +should die, and one night when the pain was sharp upon him he prayed +bitterly that he might pass, or that help might come to snatch him from +the grave. And as they sobbed together, a form entered at the door,-- +a form clothed in scarlet,--and he bade them tell the tale of their lives +as they would some time tell it unto heaven. And when the tale was told +he said that succour should come to them from the south by the hand of +the Scarlet Hunter, that the nation sleeping there should no more be +disturbed by their moaning. And then he had gone forth, and with his +going there was a storm such as that in which the man had died, the storm +that had assailed the hunters in the forest yesterday. + +This was the second part of Hester Orval's life as she told it to Just +Trafford. And he, looking into her eyes, knew that she had suffered, and +that she had sounded her husband's unworthiness. Then he turned from her +and went into the room where the dead man lay. And there all hardness +passed from him, and he understood that in the great going forth man +reckons to the full with the deeds done in that brief pilgrimage called +life; and that in the bitter journey which this one took across the dread +spaces between Here and There, he had repented of his sins, because they, +and they only, went with him in mocking company; the good having gone +first to plead where evil is a debtor and hath a prison. And the woman +came and stood beside Trafford, and whispered, "At first--and at the +last--he was kind." + +But he urged her gently from the room: "Go away," he said; "go away. We +cannot judge him. Leave me alone with him." + +They buried him upon the hill-side, far from the mounds where the Mighty +Men waited for their summons to go forth and be the lords of the North +again. At night they buried him when the moon was at its full; and he +had the fragrant pines for his bed, and the warm darkness to cover him; +and though he is to those others resting there a heathen and an alien, +it may be that he sleeps peacefully. + +When Trafford questioned Hester Orval more deeply of her life there, the +unearthly look quickened in her eyes, and she said: "Oh, nothing, nothing +is real here, but suffering; perhaps it is all a dream, but it has +changed me, changed me. To hear the tread of the flying herds, to see no +being save him, the Scarlet Hunter, to hear the voices calling in the +night! . . . Hush! There, do you not hear them? It is midnight-- +listen!" + +He listened, and Pierre and Shon McGann looked at each other +apprehensively, while Shon's fingers felt hurriedly along the beads of a +rosary which he did not hold. Yes, they heard it, a deep sonorous sound: +"Is the daybreak come?" "It is still the night," came the reply as of +one clear voice. And then there floated through the hills more softly: +"We sleep--we sleep!" And the sounds echoed through the valley--"Sleep +--sleep!" + +Yet though these things were full of awe, the spirit of the place held +them there, and the fever of the hunter descended on them hotly. In the +morning they went forth, and rode into the White Valley where the buffalo +were feeding, and sought to steal upon them; but the shots from their +guns only awoke the hills, and none were slain. And though they rode +swiftly, the wide surf of snow was ever between them and the chase, and +their striving availed nothing. Day after day they followed that flying +column, and night after night they heard the sleepers call from the +hills. The desire of the thing wasted them, and they forgot to eat and +ceased to talk among themselves. But one day Shon McGann, muttering aves +as he rode, gained on the cattle, until once again the Scarlet Hunter +came forth from a cleft of the mountains, and drove the herd forward with +swifter feet. But the Irishman had learned the power in this thing, and +had taught Trafford, who knew not those availing prayers, and with these +sacred conjurations on their lips they gained on the cattle length by +length, though the Scarlet Hunter rode abreast of the thundering horde. +Within easy range, Trafford swung his gun shoulder-wards to fire, but at +that instant a cloud of snow rose up between him and his quarry so that +they all were blinded. And when they came into the clear sun again the +buffalo were gone; but flaming arrows from some unseen hunter's bow came +singing over their heads towards the south; and they obeyed the sign, +and went back to where Hester wore her life out with anxiety for them, +because she knew the hopelessness of their quest. Women are nearer to +the heart of things. And now she begged Trafford to go southwards before +winter froze the plains impassably, and the snow made tombs of the +valleys. Thereupon he gave the word to go, and said that he had done +wrong--for now the spell was falling from him. + +But she, seeing his regret, said: "Ah, Just, it could not have been +different. The passion of it was on you as it was on us, as if to teach +us that hunger for happiness is robbery, and that the covetous desire of +man is not the will of the gods. The herds are for the Mighty Men when +they awake, not for the stranger and the Philistine." + +"You have grown wise, Hester," he replied. + +"No, I am sick in brain and body; but it may be that in such sickness +there is wisdom." + +"Ah," he said, "it has turned my head, I think. Once I laughed at all +such fanciful things as these. This Scarlet Hunter, how many times have +you seen him?" + +"But once." + +"What were his looks?" + +"A face pale and strong, with noble eyes; and in his voice there was +something strange." + +Trafford thought of Shangi, the Indian,--where had he gone? He had +disappeared as suddenly as he had come to their camp in the South. + +As they sat silent in the growing night, the door opened and the Scarlet +Hunter stood before them. "There is food," he said, "on the threshold-- +food for those who go upon a far journey to the South in the morning. +Unhappy are they who seek for gold at the rainbow's foot, who chase the +fire-fly in the night, who follow the herds in the White Valley. Wise +are they who anger not the gods, and who fly before the rising storm. +There is a path from the valley for the strangers, the path by which they +came; and when the sun stares forth again upon the world, the way shall +be open, and there shall be safety for you until your travel ends in the +quick world whither you go. You were foolish; now you are wise. It is +time to depart; seek not to return, that we may have peace and you +safety. When the world cometh to her spring again we shall meet." Then +he turned and was gone, with Trafford's voice ringing after him,--" +Shangi! Shangi!" + +They ran out swiftly, but he had vanished. In the valley where the +moonlight fell in icy coldness a herd of cattle was moving, and their +breath rose like the spray from sea-beaten rocks, and the sound of their +breathing was borne upwards to the watchers. + +At daybreak they rode down into the valley. All was still. Not a trace +of life remained; not a hoofmark in the snow, nor a bruised blade of +grass. And when they climbed to the plateau and looked back, it seemed +to Trafford and his companions, as it seemed in after years, that this +thing had been all a fantasy. But Hester's face was beside them, and it +told of strange and unsubstantial things. The shadows of the middle +world were upon her. And yet again when they turned at the last there +was no token. It was a northern valley, with sun and snow, and cold blue +shadows, and the high hills,--that was all. + +Then Hester said: "O Just, I do not know if this is life or death--and +yet it must be death, for after death there is forgiveness to those who +repent, and your face is forgiving and kind." + +And he--for he saw that she needed much human help and comfort--gently +laid his hand on hers and replied: "Hester, this is life, a new life for +both of us. Whatever has been was a dream; whatever is now"--and he +folded her hand in his--"is real; and there is no such thing as +forgiveness to be spoken of between us. There shall be happiness +for us yet, please God!" + +"I want to go to Falkenstowe. Will--will my mother forgive me?" + +"Mothers always forgive, Hester, else half the world had slain itself in +shame." + +And then she smiled for the first time since he had seen her. This was +in the shadows of the scented pines; and a new life breathed upon her, +as it breathed upon them all, and they knew that the fever of the White +Valley had passed away from them forever. + +After many hardships they came in safety to the regions of the south +country again; and the tale they told, though doubted by the race of +pale-faces, was believed by the heathen; because there was none among +them but, as he cradled at his mother's breasts, and from his youth up, +had heard the legend of the Scarlet Hunter. + +For the romance of that journey, it concerned only the man and woman to +whom it was as wine and meat to the starving. Is not love more than +legend, and a human heart than all the beasts of the field or any joy of +slaughter? + + + + + + +THE STONE + +The Stone hung on a jutting crag of Purple Hill. On one side of it, far +beneath, lay the village, huddled together as if, through being close +compacted, its handful of humanity should not be a mere dust in the +balance beside Nature's portentousness. Yet if one stood beside The +Stone, and looked down, the flimsy wooden huts looked like a barrier at +the end of a great flume. For the hill hollowed and narrowed from The +Stone to the village, as if giants had made this concave path by +trundling boulders to that point like a funnel where the miners' houses +now formed a cul-de-sac. On the other side of the crag was a valley +also; but it was lonely and untenanted; and at one flank of The Stone +were serried legions of trees. + +The Stone was a mighty and wonderful thing. Looked at from the village +direct, it had nothing but the sky for a background. At times, also, it +appeared to rest on nothing; and many declared that they could see clean +between it and the oval floor of the crag on which it rested. That was +generally in the evening, when the sun was setting behind it. Then the +light coiled round its base, between it and its pedestal, thus making it +appear to hover above the hill-point, or, planet-like, to be just +settling on it. At other times, when the light was perfectly clear and +not too strong, and the village side of the crag was brighter than the +other, more accurate relations of The Stone to its pedestal could be +discovered. Then one would say that it balanced on a tiny base, a toe of +granite. But if one looked long, especially in the summer, when the air +throbbed, it evidently rocked upon that toe; if steadily, and very long, +he grew tremulous, perhaps afraid. Once, a woman who was about to become +a mother went mad, because she thought The Stone would hurtle down the +hill at her great moment and destroy her and her child. Indians would +not live either on the village side of The Stone or in the valley beyond. +They had a legend that, some day, one, whom they called The Man Who +Sleeps, would rise from his hidden couch in the mountains, and, being +angry that any dared to cumber his playground, would hurl The Stone upon +them that dwelt at Purple Hill. But white men pay little heed to Indian +legends. At one time or another every person who had come to the village +visited The Stone. Colossal as it was, the real base on which its weight +rested was actually very small: the view from the village had not been +all deceitful. It is possible, indeed, that at one time it had really +rocked, and that the rocking had worn for it a shallow cup, or socket, in +which it poised. The first man who came to Purple Valley prospecting had +often stopped his work and looked at The Stone in a half-fear that it +would spring upon him unawares. And yet he had as often laughed at +himself for doing so, since, as he said, it must have been there hundreds +of thousands of years. Strangers, when they came to the village, went to +sleep somewhat timidly the first night of their stay, and not +infrequently left their beds to go and look at The Stone, as it hung +there ominously in the light of the moon; or listened towards it if it +was dark. When the moon rose late, and The Stone chanced to be directly +in front of it, a black sphere seemed to be rolling into the light to +blot it out. + +But none who lived in the village looked upon The Stone in quite the same +fashion as did that first man who had come to the valley. He had seen it +through three changing seasons, with no human being near him, and only +occasionally a shy, wandering elk, or a cloud of wild ducks whirring down +the pass, to share his companionship with it. Once he had waked in the +early morning, and, possessed of a strange feeling, had gone out to look +a The Stone. There, perched upon it, was an eagle; and though he said to +himself that an eagle's weight was to The Stone as a feather upon the +world, he kept his face turned towards it all day; for all day the eagle +stayed. He was a man of great stature and immense strength. The thews +of his limbs stood out like soft unbreakable steel. Yet, as if to cast +derision on his strength and great proportions, God or Fate turned his +bread to ashes, gave failure into his hands where he hugely grasped at +fortune, and hung him about with misery. He discovered gold, but others +gathered it. It was his daughter that went mad, and gave birth to a dead +child in fearsome thought of The Stone. Once, when he had gone over the +hills to another mining field, and had been prevented from coming back by +unexpected and heavy snows, his wife was taken ill, and died alone of +starvation, because none in the village remembered of her and her needs. +Again, one wild night, long after, his only son was taken from his bed +and lynched for a crime that was none of his, as was discovered by his +murderers next day. Then they killed horribly the real criminal, and +offered the father such satisfaction as they could. They said that any +one of them was ready there to be killed by him; and they threw a weapon +at his feet. At this he stood looking upon them for a moment, his great +breast heaving, and his eyes glowering; but presently he reached out his +arms, and taking two of them by the throat, brought their heads together +heavily, breaking their skulls; and, with a cry in his throat like a +wounded animal, left them, and entered the village no more. But it +became known that he had built a rude but on Purple Hill, and that he had +been seen standing beside The Stone or sitting among the boulders below +it, with his face bent upon the village. Those who had come near to him +said that he had greatly changed; that his hair and beard had grown long +and strong, and, in effect, that he looked like some rugged fragment of +an antique world. + +The time came when they associated The Man with The Stone: they grew to +speak of him simply as The Man. There was something natural and apt in +the association. Then they avoided these two singular dwellers on the +height. What had happened to The Man when he lived in the village became +almost as great a legend as the Indian fable concerning The Stone. In +the minds of the people one seemed as old as the other. Women who knew +the awful disasters which had befallen The Man brooded at times most +timidly, regarding him as they did at first--and even still--The Stone. +Women who carried life unborn about with them had a strange dread of both +The Stone and The Man. Time passed on, and the feeling grew that The +Man's grief must be a terrible thing, since he lived alone with The Stone +and God. But this did not prevent the men of the village from digging +gold, drinking liquor, and doing many kinds of evil. One day, again, +they did an unjust and cruel thing. They took Pierre, the gambler, whom +they had at first sought to vanquish at his own art, and, possessed +suddenly of the high duty of citizenship, carried him to the edge of a +hill and dropped him over, thinking thereby to give him a quick death, +while the vultures would provide him a tomb. But Pierre was not killed, +though to his grave--unprepared as yet--he would bear an arm which should +never be lifted higher than his shoulder. When he waked from the +crashing gloom which succeeded the fall, he was in the presence of a +being whose appearance was awesome and massive--an outlawed god: whose +hair and beard were white, whose eye was piercing, absorbing, painful, +in the long perspective of its woe. This being sat with his great hand +clasped to the side of his head. The beginning of his look was the +village, and--though the vision seemed infinite--the village was the end +of it too. Pierre, looking through the doorway beside which he lay, drew +in his breath sharply, for it seemed at first as if The Man was an +unnatural fancy, and not a thing. Behind The Man was The Stone, which +was not more motionless nor more full of age than this its comrade. +Indeed, The Stone seemed more a thing of life as it poised above the +hill: The Man was sculptured rock. His white hair was chiselled on his +broad brow, his face was a solemn pathos petrified, his lips were curled +with an iron contempt, an incalculable anger. + +The sun went down, and darkness gathered about The Man. Pierre reached +out his hand, and drank the water and ate the coarse bread that had been +put near him. He guessed that trees or protruding ledges had broken his +fall, and that he had been rescued and brought here. As he lay thinking, +The Man entered the doorway, stooping much to do so. With flints he +lighted a wick which hung from a wooden bowl of bear's oil; then +kneeling, held it above his head, and looked at Pierre. And Pierre, who +had never feared anyone, shrank from the look in The Man's eyes. But +when the other saw that Pierre was awake, a distant kindness came upon +his face, and he nodded gravely; but he did not speak. Presently a great +tremor as of pain shook all his limbs, and he set the candle on the +ground, and with his stalwart hands arranged afresh the bandages about +Pierre's injured arm and leg. Pierre spoke at last. + +"You are The Man"? he said. The other bowed his head. + +"You saved me from those devils in the valley?" A look of impregnable +hardness came into The Man's face, but he pressed Pierre's hand for +answer; and though the pressure was meant to be gentle, Pierre winced +painfully. The candle spluttered, and the hut filled with a sickly +smoke. The Man brought some bear skins and covered the sufferer, for, +the season being autumn, the night was cold. Pierre, who had thus spent +his first sane and conscious hour in many days, fell asleep. What time +it was when he waked he was not sure, but it was to hear a metallic +click-click come to him through the clear air of night. It was a +pleasant noise as of steel and rock: the work of some lonely stone-cutter +of the hills. The sound reached him with strange, increasing +distinctness. Was this Titan that had saved him sculpturing some figure +from the metal hill? Click-click! it vibrated as regularly as the keen +pulse of a watch. He lay and wondered for a long time, but fell asleep +again; and the steely iteration went on in his dreams. + +In the morning The Man came to him, and cared for his hurts, and gave him +food; but still would speak no word. He was gone nearly all day in the +hills; yet when evening came he sought the place where Pierre had seen +him the night before, and the same weird scene was re-enacted. And again +in the night the clicking sound went on; and every night it was renewed. +Pierre grew stronger, and could, with difficulty, stand upon his feet. +One night he crept out, and made his way softly, slowly towards the +sound. He saw The Man kneeling beside The Stone, he saw a hammer rise +and fall upon a chisel; and the chisel was at the base of The Stone. The +hammer rose and fell with perfect but dreadful precision. Pierre turned +and looked towards the village below, whose lights were burning like a +bunch of fire-flies in the gloom. Again he looked at The Stone and The +Man. + +Then the thing came to him sharply. The Man was chiselling away the +socket of The Stone, bringing it to that point of balance where the touch +of a finger, the wing of a bird, or the whistle of a north-west wind, +would send it down upon the offending and unsuspecting village. + +The thought held him paralysed. The Man had nursed his revenge long past +the thought of its probability by the people beneath. He had at first +sat and watched the village, hated, and mused dreadfully upon the thing +he had determined to do. Then he had worked a little, afterwards more, +and now, lastly, since he had seen what they had done to Pierre, with the +hot but firm eagerness of an avenging giant. Pierre had done some sad +deeds in his time, and had tasted some sweet revenges, but nothing like +to this had ever entered his brain. In that village were men who--as +they thought--had cast him to a death fit only for a coward or a cur. +Well, here was the most exquisite retaliation. Though his hand should +not be in the thing, he could still be the cynical and approving +spectator. + +But yet: had all those people hovering about those lights below done harm +to him? He thought there were a few--and they were women--who would not +have followed his tumbril to his death with cries of execration. The +rest would have done so,--most of them did so, not because he was a +criminal, but because he was a victim, and because human nature as it is +thirsts inordinately at times for blood and sacrifice--a living strain of +the old barbaric instinct. He remembered that most of these people were +concerned in having injured The Man. The few good women there had vile +husbands; the few pardonable men had hateful wives: the village of Purple +Hill was an ill affair. + +He thought: now doubtfully, now savagely, now with irony. + +The hammer and steel clicked on. + +He looked at the lights of the village again. Suddenly there came +to his mind the words of a great man who sought to save a city manifold +centuries ago. He was not sure that he wished to save this village; but +there was a grim, almost grotesque, fitness in the thing that he now +intended. He spoke out clearly through the night: + +"'Oh, let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak yet but this once: +Peradventure ten righteous shall be found there.'" + +The hammer stopped. There was a silence, in which the pines sighed +lightly. Then, as if speaking was a labour, The Man replied in a deep, +harsh voice: + +"I will not spare it for ten's sake." + +Again there was a silence, in which Pierre felt his maimed body bend +beneath him; but presently the voice said,--"Now!" + +At this the moon swung from behind a cloud. The Man stood behind The +Stone. His arm was raised to it. There was a moment's pause--it seemed +like years to Pierre; a wind came softly crying out of the west, the moon +hurried into the dark, and then a monster sprang from its pedestal upon +Purple Hill, and, with a sound of thunder and an awful speed, raced upon +the village below. The boulders of the hillside crumbled after it. + +And Pierre saw the lights go out. + +The moon shone out again for an instant, and Pierre saw that The Man +stood where The Stone had been; but when he reached the place The Man was +gone. Forever! + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +At first--and at the last--he was kind +Courage; without which, men are as the standing straw +Evil is half-accidental, half-natural +Fascinating colour which makes evil appear to be good +Had the luck together, all kinds and all weathers +Hunger for happiness is robbery +If one remembers, why should the other forget +Instinct for detecting veracity, having practised on both sides +Mothers always forgive +The higher we go the faster we live +The Injin speaks the truth, perhaps--eye of red man multipies +The world is not so bad as is claimed for it +Whatever has been was a dream; whatever is now is real +You do not shout dinner till you have your knife in the loaf + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE, V3, PARKER *** + +*********** This file should be named 6176.txt or 6176.zip *********** + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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