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<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74155 ***</div>
<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt="cover"></div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="frontis">
<img class="w100" src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="A GIRL WHO SAT—ON A LOW STOOL">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">“A GIRL WHO SAT—ON A LOW STOOL.”</p></figcaption>
</figure>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="title page"></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="titlepage">
<h1>A FRONTIER KNIGHT</h1>
<p><span class="xlarge"><i>A STORY OF EARLY TEXAN<br>
BORDER-LIFE</i></span></p>
<p>BY<br>
<span class="large">AMY E. BLANCHARD</span></p>
<p>ILLUSTRATED BY<br>
WILLIAM F. STECHER</p>
<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/titlepagelogo.jpg" alt="publisher's logo"></div>
<p><span class="large">W. A. WILDE COMPANY</span><br>
BOSTON AND CHICAGO</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center"><i>Copyrighted 1905</i><br>
<span class="smcap">By W. A. Wilde Company</span><br>
<i>All rights reserved</i></p>
<hr class="tiny">
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Frontier Knight</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2>
</div>
<table>
<tr><td class="tdr"><span class="allsmcap">CHAPTER</span></td><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><span class="allsmcap">PAGE</span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Old Kentucky Home</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9"> 9</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Fidgetty Lou</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24"> 24</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Chase</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40"> 40</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Off to the War</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56"> 56</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td><td> <span class="smcap">In the Dead of Night</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_71"> 71</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Fidgetty Lou Makes a Discovery</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_87"> 87</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">When Ira was “Skeered”</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_106"> 106</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Another Adventure for Alison</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_125"> 125</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td><td> <span class="smcap">With Hannah Maria</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_144"> 144</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Raffle</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_163"> 163</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Lou’s Wedding</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183"> 183</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Clue</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_200"> 200</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Neal’s Letter</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_217"> 217</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Why Blythe was Late</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_232"> 232</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Sir Knight</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_246"> 246</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Norther</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_262"> 262</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Alison Awakes</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_279"> 279</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Lolita</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_294"> 294</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Return of Sir Artegall</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_310"> 310</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XX.</td><td> <span class="smcap">New Homes</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_327"> 327</a></td></tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>
<p class="ph2">A FRONTIER KNIGHT</p>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I<br>
<small>THE OLD KENTUCKY HOME</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE sun was shining gloriously across level sweeps
of blue-grass meadow-land, and sending its beams
through the windows of a plain, substantial, country
house, where it made squares of brightness on the
whitewashed walls, sharply outlining the shadows,
and touching to gold the fair hair of a girl who sat
motionless on a low stool near the window. She was
thinking intently and did not heed the entrance of an
older girl who glanced at her with a smile and began
to busy herself about the room.</p>
<p>Finally the girl at the window gave a deep sigh and
stretched her hands above her head. “Oh, is it dinner
time, Christine?” she said.</p>
<p>“Very near,” was the reply. “What a brown study
you were in, Alison; you must have been miles away.”</p>
<p>“And so I was. I must decide, you know.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I do know.” There was a serious note in
Christine’s voice. “And have you decided?” she asked
after a pause.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>“Yes.” The girl arose and came to where her sister
stood. She laid her hands on the shoulders of the
other and looked steadfastly into the clear eyes. “I
am going with you and John,” she said. “There are
just the three of us, and I cannot be separated from
you, even though I have this home for always, mine
at Aunt Miranda’s death and all its comforts while I
live here. I have thought it over. I have thought of
the days which will go by all alike; everything just
so, all cut and dried; up at such an hour every morning;
hot rolls for breakfast on Wednesdays and Saturdays,
cold bread on Mondays. Every chair set at exactly
such an angle, Aunt Miranda always with her
hair parted precisely, Uncle Brown with his whiskers
curled in just such a fashion, never a hair out of place;
never any excitement; once a month the minister and
his wife to dinner; once a year a day in town; twice
a year house-cleaning; no adventure, no fun, nothing
but dull monotony and commonplace comfort.”</p>
<p>“But Aunt Miranda is good and kind in her way,
and Uncle Brown is just, if he is particular and a trifle
near.” Christine felt it her duty to plead their
cause.</p>
<p>“Then don’t you want me?” said Alison wistfully.</p>
<p>“Want you?” Christine’s arms went around her.
“Think how I shall want you when we are away off
there amidst strangers; when John must leave me
alone in our little cabin and I am homesick and yearning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>
for just one glimpse of my little sister. Think how
I shall want you.”</p>
<p>“Then there is nothing more to be said.” Alison
moved away and began to set the dishes on the table.</p>
<p>“Yes, there is. I can’t be selfish about it, and I
must show you the advantages offered you here: a
comfortable home where the larder never fails, where
the flour barrel is never empty; where the potatoes
and turnips and apples are plentifully stored away
every year; where the hogs are killed in due season
and the preserves put up; where all is orderly and exact.
Uncle Brown is a good provider if his wife does
not have much ready money to spend on fripperies. I
may not be able to have more than one frock of blue
jeans a year.”</p>
<p>“We shall be as well dressed as our neighbors, no
doubt,” replied Alison.</p>
<p>“And though you may have to help Aunt Miranda
as a daughter should, you will have one more year of
schooling, and you will have neighbors, young people,
who are not such a very great distance away,” Christine
continued her argument. “Our settlement may
be miles from any other and there may be only married
couples there.”</p>
<p>“But you will be there, and so will John, and—Fidgetty
Lou.”</p>
<p>“Why, what do you mean, Alison?” said Christine
in surprise.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>“Fidgetty Lou declares she is going if you do.”</p>
<p>“But we can’t take her.”</p>
<p>“She says she is going,” repeated Alison. “I think
that is a great inducement. No one makes better biscuits
and flapjacks. She will be a great addition to
our household, I think.”</p>
<p>“But if we do not take her how will she ever get
there?”</p>
<p>“She says she can find a way, and she says furthermore
that she has worked all these years for nothing
but her board and clothes, so she doesn’t see why she
cannot do it a while longer, if she chooses to.”</p>
<p>“John will never consent to taking all three of us;
he will be delighted if you go, but Fidgetty Lou——”
She shook her head, and Alison laughed.</p>
<p>“Settle it between you,” she said. “I am going,
anyhow, for if Fidgetty Lou has the courage to face
the uncertainty of pioneer life, why should not I?
Especially since my nearest and dearest will be with
me. Fidgetty Lou has no such tugging at her heart-strings.”</p>
<p>“It will be a blow to Aunt Miranda to lose you
both.”</p>
<p>“She has never had me to lose, for I am here only
on a visit; it was so understood from the first, and at
the end of the three months I was to decide whether
I would accept the offer of a home here, an offer which
I am made to understand is of great advantage. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>
am very sure that Uncle Brown will not omit every
morning to pray openly for the ‘young pensioner
upon our bounty.’ I shall never be allowed to forget,
even on Sundays, that I am a pensioner, and it will be
a great strain upon me to beam gratitude when my
heart is pining for you. As for Fidgetty Lou, she has
always declared that when her time was out she meant
to leave. She has never said anything else, and now
that she has fallen in love with my big sister she is
determined to follow her fortunes. You may be four
years older than I, Tina, but you cannot persuade me
that my lot here will be a happier one than with you
and John. It is all clear enough in my mind and I
shall tell Aunt Miranda to-night. It will not break
her heart to part with me, and so far as Fidgetty Lou
is concerned she will get another orphan to train up
the way she should go, and will rather enjoy the process.”</p>
<p>“Fidgetty Lou could get good wages somewhere,”
said Christine thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“She would rather see the world at present. Here
she comes.”</p>
<p>Fidgetty Lou entered, arrayed in a spotless blue
frock and gingham apron. Her red hair was drawn
tightly back into a hard knot; her freckled face beamed
with good-nature. A little nervous twitch of the head
alone remained as the result of an attack of St. Vitus’s
dance which had obtained for her, when a child, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>
nickname of Fidgetty Lou. Behind her came Aunt
Miranda, as scrupulously neat. Her black alpaca
apron covered a black stuff gown; her hair, plastered
down each side her face and tucked behind her ears,
showed not a stray lock. She looked the table over
comprehensively, then replaced some of the knives and
forks, remarking that they were not laid quite straight.
“Set that dish a little more to the left, Louisa,” she
ordered. “Bring in the rest of the dinner, and then
call Mr. Brown.” She looked at her nieces critically.
“I wish you would try to smooth your hair a
little, Alison,” she said. “Your uncle dislikes to see
a frowsy head.”</p>
<p>Alison cast an amused glance at her sister as she
hastily tucked under a few stray, curling tendrils which
had escaped from the confines of her neat braids. “A
frowsy head!” she whispered as she passed Christine.
“I must go and wet it into sleekness or I shall be disgraced.”
The thought that she would soon escape
from the lectures of an over-particular uncle and the
reproving words of a particular aunt made her sing a
little song of joy as she ran down-stairs again.</p>
<p>Her uncle was just coming in. “A little too noisy,
Alison,” he said. “Remember that ‘the heart of fools
is in the house of mirth.’”</p>
<p>“Yes,” she returned brightly, “but the wise man
also says, ‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.’
You read that this morning, I remember.” Alison<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>
was usually too ready to meet her uncle’s quotations
with counter-texts exactly to meet his approval, for
he preferred to adapt the Scriptures to point his own
opinions. But on this occasion he said nothing and
the two passed on to the dinner-table.</p>
<p>Nevertheless this small passage at arms had its effect
in producing less opposition when the moment came
for Alison to declare her decision. This she did that
same evening, after supper, when all were gathered in
the living-room. Save for the ticking of the big clock
all was very still. Uncle Brown was poring over his
weekly paper, while Aunt Miranda neatly patched a
hole in some table linen, and Christine’s fingers were
flying along the hem of a sheet.</p>
<p>“Have you nothing to do, Alison?” asked her aunt
disapprovingly. “Where is your knitting?”</p>
<p>“I have it here,” responded Alison, producing her
knitting-bag and drawing forth a half finished sock.
“I want to tell you,” she said, speaking hurriedly,
“that I have decided to go with John and Christine.”</p>
<p>Mr. Brown lowered his paper. “And quite rightly,
Miranda,” he observed. “Christine will need the
companionship of another woman, and, if ill, her ministrations.
I am glad Alison has seen where her duty
lies and that she has chosen the rough path of industry
and privation rather than the smooth one of sleek and
untroubled ease.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Brown looked a little surprised and was ready<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>
with her protest. “But for a young girl like you,
Alison, to go to such a place as that, haunted by cut-throat
Mexicans and lawless Indians, seems unnecessary.
Of course if one of you must go, Christine is
the older and therefore the proper one, though I must
say it would be better if she could remain in a more
civilized community. As your father’s elder sister I
must object, and I am surprised that you should countenance
this decision, Ephraim.” She turned to her
husband.</p>
<p>“I quite appreciate your sisterly concern for your
brother’s offspring, Miranda,” returned Mr. Brown,
“yet viewing it from a disinterested standpoint, I
think Alison is right.” Mr. Brown had studied for
the ministry in his youth, but owing to ill health had
never completed his course. However, he had never
lost a certain ministerial manner, and a strong tendency
to give opinions upon moral questions.</p>
<p>The farm belonged to Mrs. Brown, but was successfully
managed by her husband.</p>
<p>“We do not grudge you a home. I hope you understand
that,” Mrs. Brown remarked. “I should be
deficient in respect to my brother, as well as in doing
my duty, if I did not offer you freely a home with me.
I have already said that having no children of my
own I shall make a will in your favor if you remain
with me, though I do not wish you to think I desire
to buy your presence by favors.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>“I understand it all, dear aunt,” said Alison, quite
willing to show responsiveness to any affection which
Mrs. Brown might feel for her, “but there are only
the three of us, and, as Uncle Brown says, if Christine
were to fall ill, I should be miserable if I knew I had
failed her when she needed me. I thank you very
heartily, but I believe my place is with my sister and
brother.”</p>
<p>“We will say no more about it, then,” said Mrs.
Brown, “except that if you change your mind any
time within the next two years you will find my home
open to you. I will not stand in the way of what you
believe to be your duty at the present moment, but
time may work changes. When do you expect John,
Christine?”</p>
<p>“He thought he would be able to make all arrangements
so as to be here at the end of the week,” Christine
told her.</p>
<p>“And we shall be ready to start next week,” Alison
added.</p>
<p>No further reference was made to the subject
that evening, but the next day Mrs. Brown came
to her nieces in a fine passion. “Which of you has
been trying to lure Louisa away?” she asked
angrily.</p>
<p>“Neither of us,” spoke up Alison. “She told me
yesterday that she was free now, and meant either to
go with us or to go to a place where she could earn<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>
wages; then, later, she said she had decided to go
wherever we did.”</p>
<p>“I am sure I don’t know what John will say,”
Christine put in. “He surely cannot tote three women
down to Texas, and I, for one, am very sorry Lou has
any such notion.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Brown was somewhat mollified. “Well, I am
glad to know you have no hand in it,” she said. “Of
course I’ve known for some time that I couldn’t expect
to keep her much longer. Old Maria needs some
one to save her steps, and cannot do much out of the
kitchen. I suppose I can get another orphan bound
out to me, but it is ungrateful of Louisa, I must say,
after all I have taught her. I have given her a home,
too, all these years.”</p>
<p>“But she has earned her board and clothes, hasn’t
she?” said Alison, ready to champion Louisa.</p>
<p>“Well, yes, I suppose some would say so. I should
be willing to keep her if Mr. Brown would agree to
give her wages, but he will not. Maria belongs to us,
and he says we can get plenty of help without paying
wages. She is eighteen and over, and I suppose I
ought not to expect to keep her much longer.” This
ended the controversy over Louisa so far as Christine
and Alison were concerned, and soon they were too
busy in preparing for their own long journey to be
greatly interested in what Fidgetty Lou meant to do.</p>
<p>In due time John Ross appeared. He had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>
steadily occupied in arranging for the emigration to
the new state of Texas, and had left his young sisters
with their relatives until he should complete his preparations.
He was a tall, broad-shouldered, keen-eyed
young fellow, rather quiet in manner but with a fund
of humor much appreciated by his comrades. He was
always called Texas John in the old neighborhood, to
distinguish him from his cousin John Ross, who was
about his own age, and who, lately married, had no
desire to leave Kentucky. Texas John, at the death
of his parents, had found little left for the support of
himself and sisters, so he started for Texas to look up
a grant which he thought promised a living for the
three. The elder Ross had been something of a rover,
and had been killed in a struggle with the Mexicans
while serving in the effort to maintain the independence
of the young republic of Texas. Perhaps his
spirit of adventure was his son’s by inheritance, for
the latter was enthusiastic in his belief in the wild
country, where, he was satisfied, were better prospects
for him than nearer home. Having placed his young
sisters at school he started off to look up his claim
and after a two years’ absence returned home, settled
up affairs and was now ready to emigrate for
good.</p>
<p>He strode into the living-room one bright day in
early October. “Ready, girls?” he cried. “We can
be off in a few days.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>Christine sprang to his arms. “Is it all settled
then?” she asked eagerly.</p>
<p>“All settled.”</p>
<p>“And do you know Alison has decided to go with
us?”</p>
<p>He gave the younger girl a bright look. “I knew
we could count on her,” he said. “I didn’t think she
would desert her brother for any old——”</p>
<p>“Sh! Sh!” whispered Christine, putting her hand
over his mouth as Uncle Brown entered.</p>
<p>“So you are really on the road to that cut-throat
country,” he said to young Ross as they shook
hands.</p>
<p>“It’s a pretty good country from what I have seen
of it,” returned John. “It has had its little scuffles, I
admit, but it’s in the Union now and I reckon it’s in
for good.”</p>
<p>“It may be in for bad, so far as some of us are concerned,”
was the reply. “Mexico will probably think
she has a word to say on that subject. She hasn’t acknowledged
yet that Texas is anything but one of her
provinces. What will you do if she wars over it?”</p>
<p>“I’ll go and fight. You can’t scare me that way,”
said John. “We’ve the whole United States to back
us now, and I reckon we can teach Mexico where
Texas belongs.”</p>
<p>Uncle Brown shook his head. “It doesn’t strike me
that I’d like to live in such an unsettled country. Just<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>
a few years ago it was a Spanish colony, then it was
an independent republic, and now it is a state.”</p>
<p>John looked reflectively out of the window where
yellowed fields spoke of gathered harvests. “It has
had its baptism of blood,” he said. “It has arisen
from its ashes. Brave patriots have made it what it
is. My father died for its sake. He would be glad to
know that his son means to carry out what he began.
When he left his family he meant to come back for us
all; it was his dream to build up a home in Texas, and
to have us grow up with it. Because he died in the
struggle for independence is the very reason that I
am the more anxious to carry out his wishes.”</p>
<p>The young man’s face became stern and determined.
Christine crept closer to him. Her memory went back
to the time when the news came of her father’s death
at Goliad, and when her brother, pale and full of set
purpose, registered a vow to avenge his death. Seven
years later Christine had wept bitter tears at the departure
of this brother to the new republic of Texas.
Returning when the young state had become a part
of the Union, he found Christine a fair, sweet young
woman, and Alison almost as tall. The recollection
of all these events, during which the elder of the two
sisters had grown from girlhood to womanhood, flashed
across her memory as she leaned against her brother.
She understood and appreciated his desire to follow
out his father’s plans. She was willing to share joy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>
or sorrow with him, and now that Alison had cast in
her lot with theirs she had not a regret.</p>
<p>There was another reason, too, which Christine acknowledged
to no one but herself, but which carried
more weight than any other when she came to think
of going to Texas, and this was that her brother’s
companion and partner was no other than her playmate
Steve Hayward, who had been her neighbor and
comrade ever since she could remember. It was he
who had carried her books to school, who had helped
her with her lessons, who had made her a ring carved
from a peach stone, when she was but eight years old,
and who had promised to marry her when they two
should be grown. In later years he had not repeated
the promise, but when he went away with John he had
said: “I am coming back here to get my wife,
Christine,” and she understood, without more words.
Now it was she who was going to him, and there was
not a fear in her heart, even though Uncle Brown
spoke discouragingly. So she smiled up at her brother,
saying: “Tell uncle all about the arrangements,
John.”</p>
<p>“We go from here down the river to the Red,” he
began, “and when we have landed at the nearest point,
we can take wagons about twenty miles further on
where our grant lies. It isn’t as if it were an entirely
strange place, for I’ve plenty of friends there, and we
have a stout new house waiting for us. Steve has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>
another a few rods away, and after a while I shall be
able to put up a good frame house and be as fine as any
one. We shall not be uncomfortable as it is, for we
are taking all that is necessary, and I have even such
luxuries as I thought could be easily transported, for
I didn’t want the girls to feel as if they had no part
of their old home. The soil is rich, and the climate
can’t be beat. I don’t believe I am taking the girls to
such a miserable place as you would have us believe.
When you hear how well we are getting along you
will be wanting to move down there yourself, sir.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you think it,” returned Mr. Brown. “Kentucky
will never see me desert her. Well, John, I
wish you luck, though I must say I should have more
faith in your getting on if you were going to stay in
the old blue-grass country. It is good enough for
me.”</p>
<p>John shook his head and smiled. His was adventurous
youth and Uncle Brown’s was the conservative
spirit of middle age.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II<br>
<small>FIDGETTY LOU</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">IT was several days after this that the little company
started on their journey, though they had
not thought to be so detained. Fidgetty Lou made no
such delay, however, for after particular inquiries as
to where the Rosses were going she set about her own
preparations. “I’ve a chance to get started,” she told
the girls. “You’ll see me again.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Brown refused approval of this sudden departure
and was really so disturbed by it that her nieces
had not the heart to leave her until another orphan
could be found to take Louisa’s place. “I had counted
on you, Alison,” she said, aggrieved, “and now it
seems I am to be bereft of even Louisa.”</p>
<p>“But you know, Aunt Miranda, we came only for
the summer holidays, or till John should come for us,”
Alison answered.</p>
<p>“You were to come for good and all if you so
chose,” returned her aunt who could not resist making
this last appeal.</p>
<p>“You know that was all settled,” replied Alison,
looking distressed. And then came the compromise
that there should be no talk of going till Louisa’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>
place was filled. In consequence of all this delay it
seemed probable that Louisa was well on her way before
the other travelers started.</p>
<p>But they were off at last, one bright October morning.
“Good luck to you,” was Uncle Brown’s parting
word as he opened the gate that they might drive
through.</p>
<p>“Good-bye,” Aunt Brown called her final farewell,
as they leaned from the carriage for a last look of the
quiet white house, the orderly whitewashed outbuildings,
and the trim garden.</p>
<p>“Our last view of home,” said Alison, her eyes
moist.</p>
<p>But Christine was looking straight ahead with a
smile upon her face. She leaned towards John.
“We’re going home,” she said, “aren’t we, John?”</p>
<p>John’s plan to make the journey by water, so far as
it was possible, seemed to involve less fatigue than
any other way. Their household furniture was thus
readily transported, for though the flatboats, familiarly
known as broadhorns, were still in use by the
poorer emigrants, the speedier method of travel was
by the steamboats which could bear many a comfortable
outfit to the settlements located on the rivers of
Texas. From these river landings the goods and chattels
were transported further inland in carts. The state
was filling up rapidly, and those who did not travel
by water took the slower way across country in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>
hooded emigrant wagons, which plodded over many a
road as the new settlers poured in.</p>
<p>The trip down the muddy waters of the Mississippi
was one the two girls never forgot. The steamboat
was well patronized, and their fellow passengers represented
so many different classes that it was a source of
great entertainment to watch them. Here was a set
of wild looking men whose whole business in life
seemed to be a game of cards, there a group of traders,
merchants or mechanics. Families of women and little
children, made way for some silken-gowned dame on
her way to the city of New Orleans; spruce young
soldiers saluted portly politicians; dapper Frenchmen
gesticulated to some neighbor planter. In truth the
river boats were lively places, and the girls, who had
not traveled far beyond their own state, were entertained
hour after hour. At last came their final landing
when the steamer stopped at a primitive wharf at
the foot of a bluff none too easy to climb. A crowd
of negroes, Mexicans, Texas rangers, and planters
gathered curiously to watch the passengers. At sight
of John, one tall young fellow called out: “Look
there, boys, if it’s not John Ross, I’m jiggered.”
Then, as the gangplank was drawn in, several from
the crowd rushed forward with hearty greetings, but
at sight of the two girls all but one or two drew
back, and these, standing their ground, were presented.
The tall young man who had first recognized<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>
John was introduced as Neal Jordan. He
gave the girls a joyous smile, bowed low, and
with perfect ease appropriated the hand luggage,
seeming in no way abashed, and carrying on a conversation
which was a strange mixture of the local
vernacular and that of a man who was accustomed to
greater refinements.</p>
<p>“You’ve had right smart of a journey, haven’t you?”
he said.</p>
<p>“It did seem rather long,” Alison answered, “but it
was interesting, for there were so many queer people
on the steamboat and we liked to watch them.”</p>
<p>“They do give you rather a mix up,” returned the
young man. “Some pretty tough customers travel
down this way, but then we have a better class to
offset them. John, going right on?”</p>
<p>“Yes, as soon as we can arrange to get conveyances
for our goods. We have about twenty miles further
to go before we are really at home.”</p>
<p>“I reckon that’s about the distance. I suppose
you’ll want to rest up a little, though I don’t suppose
you are as tuckered out as some of the folks
are that come down on the broadhorns or in wagons.
They get pretty sick of it sometimes. Going to Haller’s,
John? It’s about the only place that’s half
decent, and none too good for ladies at that.”</p>
<p>“We shall have to go there, I suppose,” said John
in reply. “Are you putting up there, Neal?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>“Yes, while I am in town. I just got over yesterday,
and am going right back. I reckon I might as
well hang on to your train. It won’t do any harm to
have two or three of us along.”</p>
<p>“No signs of Indians?” John spoke up quickly.</p>
<p>“No-o, not around here, but it’s always well to be
sociable when you have any distance to go with
ladies. When a fellow has only his own skin to
take care of he doesn’t have to be so particular.”</p>
<p>“That’s so,” returned John, “and if any of the
boys are going our way I’d be glad to have them
join us.”</p>
<p>“How soon do you start?”</p>
<p>“As soon as I can get the goods loaded. Those
lazy little Mexicans will be as long as they can loading
the stuff; you may be sure of that. I’d like to
get off to-morrow, if it’s possible.”</p>
<p>“We’ll make it possible,” said Neal. “Us boys will
tickle up those Greasers so they’ll step lively.”</p>
<p>They had now reached the long low house which
served as an inn, and as Alison looked around upon the
homely, dingy furnishings which were none too
clean, her heart sank within her. “Will it all look
like this?” she asked wistfully.</p>
<p>“Bless you, no,” said Neal. “Why, some of our
people have as pretty places as you want to see. To
be sure the houses ain’t much on the outside, but inside,
there’s a power of fine things. More than one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>
has brought his piano and books and pictures along
with him, and though you may find some eating out of
wooden trenchers and using horn spoons, others will
set you out fine china and silver. It’s about as much
of a mix up as you found on the steamboat, you’ll find.
Our hotels ain’t to say choice.”</p>
<p>“But where we are our own housekeepers,” said
Christine brightly, “we can have it as spick and span
as we choose. Don’t get discouraged, Allie, before we
really get there.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s too early in the game to throw up your
hand,” said Neal.</p>
<p>“I’m not homesick,” Alison protested; yet, just
then, with the remembrance of Aunt Brown’s neat orderly
home and the familiar faces she had left behind,
there was mingled a slight feeling of regret at having
exchanged quiet ease for this wild place.</p>
<p>Christine, however, had no regrets. To her the end
of the morrow’s long ride meant the meeting towards
which her thoughts had tended during many months.
She watched her brother and his friend depart and
stood long by the window seeing nothing but the new
home in the prairie, hearing nothing but Stephen’s
voice again calling her name.</p>
<p>“You look as happy as a lark,” said Alison, turning
her gaze from the crude sights of the village to her
sister.</p>
<p>“I am happy,” returned Christine. “We shall soon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>
be all together in our own home. Isn’t that enough to
make any one happy?”</p>
<p>“There come John and Mr. Jordan,” said Alison,
her eyes again wandering to the street. “What a
queer little place this is. The best house in it isn’t as
good as Aunt Miranda’s.”</p>
<p>“Did you expect it would be?”</p>
<p>“I expected the best here would be as good, though
I knew ours would not be.”</p>
<p>Christine smiled, and at this moment John and his
friend entered the little room which served as parlor
and office.</p>
<p>“Neal tells me there is some one in town who has
been looking for us,” John told his sisters.</p>
<p>“Oh!” Christine’s first thought flew to Steve, but
she immediately realized that he would have been on
hand to meet them, knowing when the steamboat was
expected. “Who can it be?” she said.</p>
<p>“I don’t know who it is,” Neal answered. “Lon
Davis was asking where you-alls was going. He
said there was some one, a gal, a female woman, I
took it, that was out at his house waiting for you to
get here.”</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t be surprised if it were Fidgetty Lou,”
exclaimed Alison. “When did she come? How did
she get here?”</p>
<p>“Came on a broadhorn with the Simmonses. They
went further up country, and she said she was going<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>
to stick right here till John Ross and his sisters come,
if it was a year.”</p>
<p>“Did you see her? What did she look like?”
questioned Alison.</p>
<p>“I sorter disremember,” said Neal, “but it strikes
me, if she’s the one I saw get off the boat, she’s got
red hair. She might have been a Simmons, but I
noticed one of the gals didn’t look like the rest, wa’n’t
as tall and had a different build, but it runs that way
sometimes, even among cattle, and I never thought
but she was a Simmons. Of course the boys take
right smart of notice of the new arrivals, and I run
’em all over pretty sharp, though I didn’t fancy any
of the bunch very much.” He spoke quite honestly
and as if it were a matter of course that the subject
should be discussed in this way.</p>
<p>Christine dimpled and looked at Alison who did not
quite understand this outspoken criticism. She had
been away at school for two years and had yet to learn
the characteristic manner of Texans.</p>
<p>“If you-all think it’s the gal you know, and you
want to see her,” Neal continued, “I don’t mind
ropin’ her in for you, but if she’s somebody you don’t
want to meet up with, why I’ll chase her out of your
way.”</p>
<p>“Oh, we want to see her, surely,” said Alison.</p>
<p>“Do we?” said Christine thoughtfully. “We must
talk it over, I think. I did say something about her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>
to you, John, but you said we’d probably never see
her again; yet here she is and it’s my opinion that if
we don’t take her with us she’ll hunt us up anyhow.”</p>
<p>“The question,” said John, “is whether or not you
want her. So far as her keep is concerned, I reckon
there’ll be plenty for us all, and if she’s going to be
any help to you girls, we’d better let her come
along.”</p>
<p>“She certainly will be a help,” put in Alison.</p>
<p>Neal laughed. “Little sis is speaking two words for
herself and one for the gal, I reckon. I wouldn’t
bother any too much about her, Miss Christine; she’ll
likely be taken off your hands by some of the boys before
long; there’s lots of ’em won’t mind the color of
her hair.”</p>
<p>Every one laughed and the question of Fidgetty
Lou’s future was settled.</p>
<p>She made her appearance the next morning under
Neal’s escort, and was in high glee at having stolen a
march on the later arrivals. “I’ll earn my keep,
Mr. John,” she declared, “and I’ve clothes enough to
last a year or two, so if you’ll jest let me go along
with you I’ll ask for nothing. My father fit and died
for Texas, and I always made up my mind I’d go and
do likewise, if I could get here by hook or by crook.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know you remembered your father,” said
Alison.</p>
<p>“Didn’t say I did. My mother told me about his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>
going to Texas when I was a baby, and that he got
kilt by the Injuns. I was eight years old when she
died, so I reckon I was old enough to take in what she
said. I said then, and I say now, that I shan’t be
satisfied till I get to the place he went, and I mean to
go. Where my dad died I mean to die.”</p>
<p>“Goodness!” exclaimed Alison, “don’t talk of
dying first thing. For my part what I want is to
live here. Now tell us, Lou, how you managed to get
ahead of us.”</p>
<p>“I knew Jake Simmons’s folks. They are kind of
kin of mine, and Lotty Meekins told me that Sadie Simmons
told her that Jake Simmons was getting ready
to up and go to Texas, and so one day when Joe, the tinman
came along, I knew he’d be traveling that way,
so I got leave to go along with him in his cart and see
the Simmonses. They said I had heard right, and
that they was going down on a broadhorn to Texas.
I asked ’em where and when, and they told me, so I
said I wanted to go along, and Jake he said: ‘Louisa,
I’ve heerd my father talk about your father, and so
long as we are blood kin I’ll see what I kin do. I
know you was never took up by none of the family
when you was left an orphan and I always thought
they did kind of mean to bind you out, but ma said
you had a good home and honest work wasn’t going
to hurt nobody, and we might as well let well enough
alone and leave you stay with Mis’ Brown till your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>
time was up. But now if you want to go to Texas
with me and the gals, go you shall.’ Well, he was as
kind as could be, though he ain’t more’n second cousin
to my father, and I told him my time was up and over,
and I was just staying along till I could see my way
clear to get where I wanted to go, that I’d made up
my mind to say to Miss Christine, ‘whither thou goest
I will go,’ and so then we hashed it all up that I was
to go over there and leave with his folks. I didn’t say
too much about it, for I was afraid Mis’ Brown would
come talking around and make them think I’d ought
to stay. Well, we got off all right and made good
time, so here I am and here I stay. You won’t turn
me off, will you, Mr. John?” She turned pleadingly
to the young man.</p>
<p>“Not I,” was the response. “If you choose to follow
our fortunes you shall do it, so get your traps,
whatever they are, and come along.”</p>
<p>This, Louisa lost no time in doing. Her worldly
belongings were packed in two stout bundles standing
outside, and with the rest of the goods and chattels
they were stowed away in the wagon which was to
take them all to their destination.</p>
<p>Many were the westward moving wagons following
the roads, some having come all the way from the
eastern states, others from no further than the coast,
where their owners had landed, and, like the Ross
family, were conveying their goods over the last stage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>
of their journey. At the small towns which were
come upon at infrequent intervals, the wagoners would
stop to help themselves to dipperfuls of tar from the
barrels hospitably set out for the newcomers, and many
an agonizing creak was thus brought to an end, to the
relief of those who for hours had endured the noise of
a squeaking wagon.</p>
<p>It was a beautiful open country which the travelers
passed through. Even at this season flowers were in
bloom, and bees still hummed above them. Herds of
deer and wild horses haunted the plains; wild turkeys
in great droves frequented the borders of the streams;
thickets of prickly pear harbored more dangerous
creatures, and the bark of the coyote made the presence
of this ubiquitous little creature known even
when he was not seen. The wagon in which the girls
sat was driven by John Ross, while the others belonging
to the party were guided by Mexicans. Neal
Jordan and two or three of his comrades accompanied
the travelers. True Texas rangers were these hardy
fellows, and in buckskins and sombreros, with clanking
spurs and long rifles, they looked their character.
It gave the girls a sense of security to see these gallant
out-riders, for, though the state was at peace, it was
necessary for all travelers to be on their guard against
the predatory Comanches and Wacos. Especially was
this true after the main road was left and the small
company turned off towards more isolated settlements.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>Christine was as joyous as a maid could be. She
and Alison took turns in sitting with John on the
front seat, Alison taking the first ten miles by her
brother’s side, and Christine the last ten. Louisa was
quite content to sit anywhere.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t wonder if we met up with Steve somewhere
hereabouts,” said John, as the last five miles
only lay before them.</p>
<p>Christine smiled and murmured: “Two years. Has
he changed much, John?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Changed? In what way?” John laughed. “He
hasn’t turned gray; neither has he grown decrepit
and wrinkled. A man doesn’t alter noticeably in
two years. I reckon you’ll be able to recognize him
without an introduction. I expect he will have everything
in good order for us. I’ll guarantee no one
within fifty miles has a better cabin than ours. I
don’t know that Steve can calculate to a day when we
shall be along, though I reckon he won’t be far out,
and we can be looking out for him when we reach
Denton; that’s our nearest village and the one you’ll
soon be best acquainted with.”</p>
<p>But the village of Denton was reached and no
Steve appeared. John stopped to rest his horses, to
ladle out a last dipperful of tar for his wheels, and to
inquire into the happenings of the little place.</p>
<p>A tall man with a long beard, came out from the
building which served as store, post-office and inn.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>
He wore a blue flannel shirt and his trousers were
tucked into his boots. “’Light and come in, John,”
he said hospitably. “I declar’, yer a sight for sore
eyes. How long ye been gone? Come in, all of ye.
Mandy ain’t cla’red away yet and we’ll hand ye out
somethin’. Got yer fambly in thar?” He peered
curiously into the wagon.</p>
<p>“Yes, we’re all here,” John told him. “We’ll not
come in, Buck, for the girls are anxious to see their
new home. Seen anything of Steve? I thought we’d
likely meet him about now.”</p>
<p>The man pulled his long beard thoughtfully. “Now
lemme see,” he said. “Steve was here; I reckon it
must hev been day before yesterday. He came for
some truck, coffee I believe it was. Said he was looking
out for you-alls to be gittin’ along. Maybe he
thought you’d be as well satisfied if he waited at your
house for you and had it comfortable when you got
thar.”</p>
<p>“He was all right then?”</p>
<p>“Right as a trivet. Said you’d been gone long
enough for him, ’peared like it was three years instead
of three months. Said he didn’t reckon nobody’d be
gladder than him to see you and your folks. Got
some of the boys to come along with ye, didn’t ye?
Neal movin’ up this way?”</p>
<p>“Well no, he’s still down on the river, but he and
the boys thought they might as well ride along with us.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>“Where there’s women folks,” said Buck, “it’s just
as well to pick up as many as ye kin to travel with ye.
Ain’t come acrost no Injuns, I suppose?”</p>
<p>“Not one. Been any about?”</p>
<p>“I ain’t sure about that. Ben Phillips was tellin’
me he heard they’d got a bunch of horses from the
Carterses the other night.”</p>
<p>“Humph!” John glanced towards the wagon a
trifle uneasily. Christine was listening eagerly.
Buck followed his glance. “Thar ain’t nothin’ to be
skeered of, miss,” he said coming forward. “We
don’t hev no trouble nowadays. They will steal
horses every chanst they git, and I reckon they’re
bound to keep thet up till the cows come home, but
they don’t pester us much. White folks is gittin’ too
thick fur ’em; settlemints too clost together and
Uncle Sam standin’ ready to lick ’em into shape if
they git troublesome. Well, you off? Bring the gals
over when ye kin.” He waved his hand in farewell
and the company proceeded on its way. Three miles
beyond Denton lay the home to which they all looked
forward expectantly.</p>
<p>They were covering the distance rapidly, when suddenly
a riderless horse came dashing up to John’s
team, and tossing its head stood still for a moment,
then ran alongside.</p>
<p>“It’s Hero, as I live,” exclaimed John, hastily handing
the reins to his sister and climbing down. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>
held out his hand to the pretty creature, who pricked
up his ears, lowered his head and looked at him
suspiciously, then dashed off a short distance to stand
still again. John cautiously followed with a bunch of
grass and finally Hero allowed himself to be caught,
evidently first making sure that John was a friend.</p>
<p>“I’d like to know what the mischief he’s doing
here,” said John. “It’s Steve’s horse, you know.”</p>
<p>Christine looked startled, and asked tremulously:
“What do you think can have happened?”</p>
<p>“He’s gotten loose somehow, or has slipped out of
the corral, I suppose,” said John carelessly. But he
led the horse up to where Neal was watching proceedings,
and the two conferred together, Neal taking the
horse in charge and John returning to the wagon.
Christine thought he looked troubled, but to her questionings
he only answered: “I haven’t a doubt but
that it’s all right. We’ll soon find out. Steve certainly
will be glad to see his horse again. It’s lucky
he met us instead of some other crowd, or Steve would
likely never have got him back.” But in spite of this
off-hand way of disposing of the matter, Christine was
not satisfied.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III<br>
<small>THE CHASE</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap2">AT last through the trees, appeared the yellow
ends of hewn logs attesting to their newness,
and a sudden turn into the clearing brought the house
into view. It was a roomy affair and much better
than the pioneer dwellings of former days. The main
room below was supplemented by a lean-to which was
divided; while the loft overhead gave ample accommodation
for sleeping arrangements and could be partitioned
off if necessary. Alison’s eyes were scanning
the new house eagerly, but Christine gazed in the direction
of the little old cabin which had done service
for John and Stephen, and which she knew Stephen
still occupied. No smoke came from its chimney, and
there was no sign of life anywhere. Christine looked
at her brother wistfully. “Where do you suppose
Steve is?” she asked faintly.</p>
<p>“Like as not he didn’t look for us just yet or he
would have been on hand,” John hastened to say. “I
shouldn’t wonder if he had gone to some of the neighbors.
Got lonely, I reckon. Come to think of it,
that’s just what he has done. He could ride over here
every day and look after things and go back again. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>
suppose that accounts for Hero’s appearance; he got
loose and made tracks for his own stable. Neal and I
will go and hunt up Steve and give him a surprise.”
After having given orders for the unloading of the
goods he nodded to Neal, and the two galloped in the
direction of the silent little cabin, while the wagons
were stopped at the larger house.</p>
<p>The fact that Stephen’s presence was lacking did not
prevent Alison from taking a keen interest in the moment
of arrival, whatever may have been her sister’s
sensations, and it was Alison who was the first to
spring lightly down from the wagon and to enter the
house. She ran from room to room, then gave a ready
hand to the carrying in of the lighter articles, chatting
all the while. “Home at last, Tina. Louisa, do help
me with this basket; I am sure it has some breakables
in it,” and so the removing went on till the main room
was full of pieces of furniture, with the boxes, bags
and barrels which were set there ready to unpack.</p>
<p>Meanwhile John and Neal had returned from their
tour of investigation. “Not a sign of Steve and not a
horse on the place,” they reported. “It looks like
horse thieves had been about,” said Neal to the other
men, “whether Injuns or no we ain’t able to tell, but
we lay out to chase after them and I reckon you boys
don’t want to miss the fun.”</p>
<p>“Who’s to stay with the gals?” asked one, turning
to John.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>“I hadn’t thought about that part of it,” he acknowledged.</p>
<p>“I suppose bein’ new to the country they’d be
skeered to death to be left alone, and it mightn’t be
safe nuther,” said the other.</p>
<p>“They ain’t no war and the Injuns is quiet, if they
will steal hosses,” said Ira Korner, unwilling to give
up the prospect of the chase.</p>
<p>“That’s so,” returned John. “Suppose we get old
Pedro and his Greasers to stay till we get back. He’s
a reliable old soul and as good-hearted a yellow-faced,
skin-dried old Mexican as I ever met. Feed the men
up well and give them nothing to do and they’ll be
willing to camp out here for a week.” They hunted
up the girls and made the proposition to them.</p>
<p>“I don’t see why we need any one,” said Alison.
“You will be back before night, you say, and I should
think three women were as good as one man, and not
one of you would hesitate to stay here alone.”</p>
<p>“I should think if we three girls can’t look out for
ourselves for a few hours we must be poor shakes,”
put in Louisa.</p>
<p>“Go, John. Do go. We shall not mind. I am
sure Pedro will be an excellent protector,” was
Christine’s comment. And so, after a conference
with the Mexicans, John and Neal, in company with
Ira Korner and Reub Blakely, started off, leaving the
girls looking after them. The old Mexican grinned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>
sociably at his charges and in slow halting speech
tried to talk to them. “No is to distress the self, the
yong lade. Is to return ver soon. Is wish me to
make a useful at time all is depart,” he said.</p>
<p>Christine, in whose eyes the tears were standing,
turned to Alison who stood by smiling broadly.
“Can you make out what he is trying to say?”
she asked.</p>
<p>“Why yes, I think I know what he means. We
are not to distress ourselves. They will be back soon
and then it will be all right. In the meantime he will
make himself useful.”</p>
<p>“You are cleverer at translating than I am,” acknowledged
Christine. “I wish they did not need to go.”</p>
<p>“The best thing for us to do is to get to work,”
said Alison. “The time will pass much more quickly
if we do. There is no use in our sitting still and
moping. Besides we want to make the place comfortable
as soon as possible.”</p>
<p>“But if I only knew what had become of Steve,”
said Christine wofully. “Suppose the Indians should
have captured him. Suppose they should be torturing
him.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense,” said Louisa briskly. “I don’t believe
a word of that. You heard Mr. John say that he had
probably gone to a neighbor’s and they’ll easy find
him. Don’t get yourself all worked up, Miss Tina.
It ain’t as if it were Mr. John, your own brother.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>Christine gave her a look which a less simple girl
would have understood, but Louisa, blissfully unconscious
of the reason for these terrors, went on unpacking
and felt that the last word had been spoken
upon the subject.</p>
<p>Christine went on murmuringly: “And I was so
happy this morning and thought he would be here to
meet us.”</p>
<p>This time it was Alison who listened to her plaint,
and who began to have a dawning idea that this was
a real grief to her sister. “Why, Tina,” she said with
some show of indignation, “I believe you are in love
with Steve Hayward.”</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="p044">
<img class="w100" src="images/p044.jpg" alt="CHRISTINE DROPPED HER HEAD ON THE TABLE AND BURST INTO TEARS">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">“CHRISTINE DROPPED HER HEAD ON THE TABLE AND BURST INTO TEARS.”</p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>At this charge Christine dropped her head on the
table and burst into tears, to Louisa’s astonishment
and Alison’s distress. “Why, Tina, why, Tina,” said
the latter kneeling down by her side. “I didn’t
mean to make you cry. I didn’t know you cared,
though I might have suspected. Don’t cry, Tina dear.”
She murmured her words caressingly and the little
Mexican, standing by with his head to one side, assumed
an expression of interest and sympathy.</p>
<p>“Pobrecita,” he said. “Mientras mas alto es al
monte mas profundio es el valle.” Then shaking his
head he tried to say in English, “More high is the
hill; more low is the val. The sister is so high as the
hill and now she make the tear.” He wiped his eye
in such a mockingly funny way that Alison had to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>
laugh in spite of herself, and realizing that the old
man understood English better than he spoke it
Christine restrained herself from further exhibition
of feeling and set to work with the rest.</p>
<p>By nightfall the place began to look quite habitable.
Pedro and his men had worked with a will, Christine’s
tears and Alison’s smiles having been strong factors
in urging on their efforts. As dusk approached the
wagoners retired, old Pedro alone remaining indoors.
The cows came lowing home, the chickens gathered
about the hen-house; it was the hour which most
strongly carried back the thoughts of the girls to the
home they had so lately left. Even Louisa gave a
little sigh and said: “That red cow reminds me of
Mis’ Brown’s Cherry. I wonder how they’re gittin’
along.”</p>
<p>“I think I should like to feed the chickens myself,”
said Alison. “It seems kind of homelike to have
something like that to do.”</p>
<p>“And I reckon I may as well do the milking; it
will get my hand in,” returned Louisa.</p>
<p>But Pedro had forestalled her in this occupation
and was bringing in the brimming buckets as she
went into the kitchen. Alison, however, went out
and made friends with the chickens and stopped to
speak to Steve’s horse which was safe in the stable.
Here, to her surprise, she found Christine who had
stolen out to comfort herself with ministering to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>
one thing which was very near and dear to Stephen.
Hero had responded cordially to her advancements
and was rubbing his handsome head against the
girl’s shoulder and nickering softly, as she fed him
with apples and talked to him caressingly. Alison
backed out of the stable without being observed by
her sister and hurried back to the house to help Louisa
with the supper.</p>
<p>The men, bivouacked a little distance away, near the
wagons, were feasting on the viands with which they
had been generously supplied, and were making merry.
The girls had not stopped to prepare a meal earlier in
the day, but now Alison insisted that they should make
a feast in the new home, for, tired though she was,
she told Louisa that when the men returned they
would probably be more tired still. “And nothing
rests one like a good meal,” she remarked.</p>
<p>Louisa was in her element. She had already stowed
away the stores, and though books occupied one half
the potato bin and fine china stood side by side with
wooden platters, she knew where everything was and
was ready to produce any article asked for. Soon the
fragrance of coffee filled the big room and from the
kitchen came the sound of sizzling ham and the odor
of browning biscuits. “Just you set still and rest,”
said Louisa to the others. “I came here to earn my
keep and I mean to do it. You two ain’t used to running
your legs off, and you’re all tuckered out while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>
I’m as fresh as a lark. I ain’t lived with Mis’ Brown
all these years without getting pretty strong in the
muscles. I reckon I’d better cook a-plenty, for there’s
no telling when them men will be coming along and
they’ll be mortal hungry.”</p>
<p>Such a cheerful possibility had a good effect upon
Christine, and as for Alison she would hear nothing
but that the entire company, Steve included, would
be with them before the meal was ready. “I shall
set the table for eight,” she said, “and I mean to put
on all our best dishes and things, for this is our house-warming.”
Pedro had started a fire in the big fireplace,
for the October night was chill, and so industrious
had all been that the room presented a very
cozy and lived-in appearance. Christine, who had
taken her place at the window, was anxiously peering
out into the gathering gloom. Presently she started
and called out: “Alison, Alison, come here.” Her
sister obeyed the summons. “What is that over
there?” said Christine eagerly. “Does it seem to
you that some one is coming? or is it only the waving
branches of a tree? I have looked so long I cannot
tell. See if you can make it out.”</p>
<p>Alison bent her eyes in the direction her sister indicated.
“It is—one—two—three—— Oh, Christine,
they are coming.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“I am sure.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>“You don’t think it could be Indians?”</p>
<p>Alison laughed. “You are so full of notions you
will say next that they are Esquimaux or something
equally absurd. Of course it is not Indians. I can
see their hats and, unless I am much mistaken, they
are John and the rest.” Christine clasped and unclasped
her hands in an agony of agitation while
Alison ran to the door and called: “Pedro, Pedro,
they are coming.”</p>
<p>The old man abandoned his companions and came
running. He and Alison had struck up quite a friendship.
He had a daughter her own age, he had told
her. She was his youngest and his treasure, Alison
had discovered, and had won the old man’s heart by
the interest she displayed in this Mexican maid. He
joined her now by the door and assured her that she
was right in her conjectures. “I am sure it is Mr.
Jordan riding ahead,” Alison called in to her sister.
“There are five of them, I verily believe. I can see
them quite easily now. What did I tell you when I
set the table?”</p>
<p>Nearer and nearer the horsemen galloped. Now
they had passed Steve’s cabin, now they were at the
gate and came clattering towards the house at full
tilt. Alison fairly danced up and down with excitement.
This was something like. Adventure to start
with and no dull hours to drone away that evening.</p>
<p>John was the first to alight and Neal followed him.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>
Christine watched breathlessly as one after another
emerged from the dimness and stepped into the full
light of the room. After John and Neal came Ira
Korner, then Reuben Blakely; the fifth man was a
stranger. Christine went swiftly up to her brother.
“Where is he?” she asked. “Why didn’t you bring
him?”</p>
<p>John looked down at her and patted her shoulder
in awkward confusion. “Well, the fact is, we didn’t
find Steve,” he said, “and we have about concluded
that he went off hunting, lost his horse and is footing
it back. He’ll likely get along between this and to-morrow
night. We’ve about made up our minds that
while he was away some pesky redskins, who had
been watching their chance, sneaked in and got the
horses. We made out by the tracks that it is just
about that way. We followed up the thing as far as
it seemed any use and then we passed on the word.
Pike Toles is going to take a squint at the tracks
beyond his place and maybe we can get wind of
something. That’s why we brought Pike along. I
wouldn’t worry, Tina. Steve’ll be tramping in first
thing you know.”</p>
<p>At this report Christine looked so woebegone that
Alison flounced out of the room to give vent to her
feelings in the kitchen. “The idea of Christine’s looking
as if she had lost her last friend. Suppose Steve
hasn’t come, that’s no reason why she should be going<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>
about looking like a dying calf. I’d be ashamed to
let any one know I cared. Big sisters are such sillies
sometimes. You can be mighty sure I’d never do that
way.”</p>
<p>Louisa laughed. “Just wait till your time comes,”
she said, as she began to busy herself in dishing up the
supper. All this excitement was having its effect
upon her and her head was jerking more than usual,
though this did not interfere with her activity, and by
the time the horses were put up the supper was on the
table.</p>
<p>Neal Jordan looked at the well-served fare and
remarked as he took his place: “Reminds me of
home, boys. I’ve not seen such a lay-out since I
came down here.”</p>
<p>“Looks like somebody here’s a mighty good cook,”
remarked Ira Korner, surveying the smoking, light
biscuits.</p>
<p>“That coffee smells as good as a weddin’,” said Reub
Blakely.</p>
<p>“Speakin’ of weddin’s,” began Ira, looking towards
Christine.</p>
<p>“But we’re not speaking of weddings and we don’t
want to,” Alison interrupted him by saying. “What
we want to speak about is where you have been all
day and what your adventures were.”</p>
<p>“Give us leave to eat our supper first,” returned
Ira. “I tell you when a fellow gits grub like this he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>
wants to give his whole attention to it without side-tracking
onto a narrative. Just you let us get outside
that ham and coffee and a pile or so o’ them biscuits
and we’ll talk to ye.”</p>
<p>Just then Louisa skurried off saying, “I guess I’ll
lose my head next. I clean forgot that honey Pedro
got for us. I ain’t got the best head in the world, for
I’ve most jerked it off already.”</p>
<p>Ira observed her gravely. Any one who could make
such biscuits and coffee appealed to his tenderest sensibilities.
“What’s the young lady’s name?” he whispered
audibly to Alison by whose side he sat. “I
didn’t catch her cognomen, as Pike likes to call it.”</p>
<p>“Her name is Sparks, Louisa Sparks,” Alison told
him.</p>
<p>Ira nodded in answer. His eyes followed Louisa
when she went from the room to replenish the supplies
and when he had finished his thirteenth biscuit he
looked across the table and said: “Any kin o’ old Cy
Sparks? Old man with a red head, he is.”</p>
<p>Louisa looked up surprised. “Why, my father’s
name was Cyrus, but he’s been dead these fifteen
years.”</p>
<p>“That so? Orphin?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I lost my mother when I was eight and I was
fetched up by Mis’ Brown, aunt o’ Mr. John’s.”</p>
<p>“Humph!” Ira returned to an appreciation of his
biscuits and honey.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>“Queer there should be another Cyrus Sparks down
here in Texas,” said Louisa breaking the silence, for all
the men were eating steadily, solemnly and ravenously.</p>
<p>“’Tis queer,” returned Ira. “Old Cy don’t live so
terrible far from here. He’s a mean old cuss, though,
and I reckon you kin thank your stars that you don’t
need to call him pop. No, thank you, miss, I’m sorry
to say that I’ve reached my limit. Jerusalem, but I’ve
eat hearty!”</p>
<p>Christine had scarcely tasted her supper, but gave
her attention to the hungry men. Alison was eagerly
alert, her bright little face framed by its bands of fair
hair was turned interestedly from one to another. “I
think it is time that you told us where you have been
all these hours,” she said, her curiosity refusing to be
satisfied. “Out with your story, Mr. Jordan.”</p>
<p>“Pretty tame sort of story, isn’t it, boys?” he began.
“If we had come back without our scalps it
might have been interesting, though we wouldn’t have
looked as pretty.”</p>
<p>“And if we’d have left our hides with a lot of bullet
holes in ’em we’d have missed one good supper,” remarked
Ira. “I reckon it’s a good thing we didn’t
come to closter quarters with the redskins. I ain’t to
say skeered of ’em, though I’m blest if I wouldn’t
rather die in a good rational fight with the boys all
yellin’ around me than be kilt by some sneakin’ varmint<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>
ketchin’ you unawares when you’re out alone. I
must say I don’t ache to play cock-robin and git kilt
by a bow and arrer neither. I reckin I’m a sort of
skeery fellow.”</p>
<p>A roar of laughter went up at this. “It don’t seem
to keep you much at home,” said Neal.</p>
<p>“Well, no, it don’t. I hev to hev my constitutional
every day or I git sick. I ain’t sayin’ I’d set at home
alone like a toad ketchin’ flies rather’n go out by my
lone. I ain’t such a drivelin’ pasty-faced baby as
thet. I’m only expressin’ my druthers and a-sayin’
that we were lucky to git back to supper. When
I ponder on these here wittles, I tell you, Miss
Sparks, I wisht I was twins, so I could eat ’em
twicet over.” These remarks met the applause he
meant they should, and after the laughter had settled
down to an occasional chuckle Neal turned to
Alison to give her an account of the day’s adventures.</p>
<p>“We surmised it was Injuns,” Neal began. “We
found moccasin tracks and other signs. There must
have been about half a dozen of the redskins. We
found, too, the tracks of a single horse and that we
concluded was Hero. So we put this and that together
and made up our minds that Steve went off
hunting and the Injuns sneaked in after the horses.
Well, we were in a dilemma; we wanted to find Steve
and we wanted the horse stealers, so we divided; two<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>
of us followed up Hero’s tracks and two went for the
other horses. Hero worked around in a sort of circle
and brought us out on the road where he came up this
morning. We’d looked close all the way and there
wasn’t any sign of Steve, so we surmised he had
struck out for home after he lost his horse and had
taken a different way. We knocked around for
awhile but after a bit we concluded that we’d better
start up the road and see after the other boys; then
we met up with Pike. He was to wait at his house
for Ira and Reub and get their report. They had
come along by there and had gone on. Well, in about
half an hour back they came. No luck. Injuns had
got so far off that there was no good following them
and so we joined forces and came home together about
as disgusted a lot as you ever saw. Not a blessed bit
of fun the entire time.”</p>
<p>“But suppose Steve doesn’t come back, what
then?” Christine spoke up sharply.</p>
<p>“We’ll scour the country for him.”</p>
<p>And this indeed they came to do, for no Stephen
appeared that day nor the next nor, indeed, did it
seem after a while that he ever would appear. In time
it came to be whispered about that he had been
captured by the Indians, who must have come upon
him as he was trudging home. No one made this explanation
of his disappearance to Christine but she intuitively
understood that it was the general opinion,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>
yet she did not give up hope, though many a night her
fast-flowing tears moistened her pillow, and the joy
she had felt in the prospect of life in this new home
was overshadowed by dread.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV<br>
<small>OFF TO THE WAR</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE state of Texas had yet to battle further for
her independence. She had long been a bone of
contention between the United States and Mexico. In
1803, when Louisiana was ceded by France to the
United States, Texas became disputed territory.
Thirty years later the twenty thousand settlers who
occupied the land rose up and attempted to found an
independent republic. In 1835 a provisional government
was formed with Samuel Houston as its head.
The story of the continuous struggles with Mexico,
the tales of bloodshed, the massacres at the Alamo and
Goliad, when the fierce despairing efforts of valiant
men were made for independence, belong to this period
of the history of Texas, and a thrilling chapter it
makes, one which has been the theme of many a
writer. The chapter ends with the acknowledgment
of the little republic by the United States in 1837, and
in 1840 by England, France and Belgium. Feeling
herself too weak to withstand continual invasion,
Texas desired the support of a stronger government,
and in 1845 was admitted into the Union in spite of the
protests of Mexico, which had never acknowledged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>
the independence of her small neighbor and which
now declared the United States to be an invader.
Intense excitement had prevailed previous to the
annexation of Texas and it was reasonable to suppose
that force must be resorted to before permanent
possession of the new territory could be gained. Foreseeing
the trouble which must ensue because of the
determined opposition of the Mexican government,
the United States selected Zachary Taylor as commanding
officer of the forces which, it was now
decided, must be stationed on the borders of Texas in
order to meet any aggressive movement on the part of
the Mexicans.</p>
<p>As early as the spring of 1844, in anticipation of
future difficulties, certain regiments were ordered to
Texas, remaining there ready for active service. There
were many who believed that such decided measures
on the part of our government would have the effect
of chilling the ardor of the Mexicans and that their
boasting was all a pretense, a bluster which would be
stilled as soon as they discovered the presence of an
army, but these optimists were mistaken, for in April,
1846, the first shot was fired, the Mexicans assumed
the offensive and war began.</p>
<p>Rumors of this first fight were brought to the new
home of the Rosses by Neal Jordan. He dashed in
one spring morning, swung himself off his house and
demanded to see John.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>“You’re mighty peremptory, Mr. Neal Jordan,” said
Alison, who was the first to welcome him. “What’s
the matter that you’re in such a hurry?”</p>
<p>He set his long rifle against the wall, slipped his
fingers along the barrel first on one side and then on
the other. “Do you see this old pet?” he asked.
“She’s going to speak a word to the Mexicans and I
am going along to tickle her into speech. John won’t
want to be left out of the little conversation that’s to
take place, so I thought I’d stop by and invite him to
join in.”</p>
<p>By this time Alison had gained a better understanding
of the peculiarities of speech indulged in by her
Texas friends. “Do you mean there is to be fighting?”
she asked.</p>
<p>Neal nodded. “They’ve fired the first shot and
there has been a battle. We boys are going to help
out our side.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” Alison shook her head. “Do you suppose
it will last long?”</p>
<p>“Can’t tell. It depends upon how soon we lick
’em.”</p>
<p>“You are sure to do that.”</p>
<p>“Sure as shootin’.”</p>
<p>“Will there be fighting up this way?”</p>
<p>“I reckon not, but we can’t tell so early in the
game.”</p>
<p>Alison glanced out of the door at the quiet scene<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>
before her. She shuddered as her gaze returned
again to the long rifle. “I wish John didn’t have to
go,” she said, “but I know he will. He’s always said
he would. I’ll go find him, but I must say I wish you
hadn’t come; for the first time I wish that of you,
Neal Jordan.”</p>
<p>The young man looked at her with a half smile.
“I’m glad it’s the first time,” he said simply, “and I
hope it will be the last time you need say that.”</p>
<p>“What does make you men so eager to fight?”
Alison asked, looking back, as she stood with her
hand on the door.</p>
<p>“Nature of the beast, I suppose,” returned Neal
coolly. “It gets into the blood and you can’t get rid
of it. It’s masculine, I reckon, though there’s female
women who have it too.”</p>
<p>“Yes, there was Joan of Arc, you know.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’ve heard of her. They ketched her and
burned her. I don’t just recollect who it was did it,
but I don’t think it was Injuns.” Neal gravely tried
to recall his somewhat limited knowledge of the
facts.</p>
<p>“No, it was done by the French. They pretended
to think she was a witch.”</p>
<p>“So they did. Well, we did some witch-burning
ourselves way back there, so we in the States can’t
call the kettle black. That’s what I think sometimes
when the boys go to pitchin’ into the Injuns.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>“But we were never as cruel as they.”</p>
<p>“No, but we were smart enough, big enough and
ugly enough to know better than to burn women and
to cut off people’s ears because they didn’t go to the
same church as we did. I’m an Injun fighter from
way back, but I ain’t so sure that I wouldn’t do as
they do, if I wasn’t any more civilized, and if I was
run off my land as they are. We’ve got to run ’em,
of course, but in spite of that I reckon they can claim
that there ain’t justice done every time.”</p>
<p>Alison regarded him thoughtfully. She had heard
others talk less mercifully and yet she knew no man
was braver, more ready to rush into action, to lead a
band against the Indians, than this same Neal Jordan.
Ira Korner, too, was noted for his fearlessness, but he
had not Neal’s sense of justice. “Then you wouldn’t
fight now if you didn’t believe it right,” the girl
said.</p>
<p>“No,” was the reply. “As it is, we only want our
own. We claim a certain boundary, you know; the
Mexicans say we want more than is coming to us and
they are ready to go to war about it. We don’t mean
to have them grab what we have a right to and we
are perfectly willing to fight, too. That’s what it’s
all about. I suppose we wouldn’t be quite so fierce if
we didn’t remember the way they did us back in ’36
when they slaughtered every man at the Alamo, and
when they gave no quarter at Goliad. We are glad<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>
of the chance of paying off old scores and are not
above being ready for revenge.”</p>
<p>“I don’t wonder at that,” returned Alison, her eyes
kindling. “John has had that in mind ever since
our father fell fighting for Texas. John is my only
brother, but when I think of father I cannot say a
word, and I mean to give him all the encouragement
I can.”</p>
<p>Neal looked after her admiringly as she left the
room. “Spunky little kitten,” he said to himself.
“I like her spirit. I wonder what Christine will
say.”</p>
<p>He was not long left in doubt as to Christine’s attitude,
for she soon entered the room with the swift
directness which was always hers. “You are going
to take John away from us,” she said abruptly.</p>
<p>“I am not going to take him,” was the reply. “I
reckon he’ll be willing to go without being gagged
and bound.”</p>
<p>“Must every one be sacrificed?” asked Christine.
“Our father gave up his life in this dreadful land.
It has swallowed up Stephen Hayward and now John
must go. Must we give up all that we have left?
If John is killed what will happen to us, to two defenseless
girls alone in this crude country?”</p>
<p>Neal’s face flushed slightly, but he answered quietly,
“I’m something of a believer in fatality, Miss Christine.
If fate decrees that John must go to his death,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>
he will go as a brave man and not as a coward. He
might stay at home and be killed by an Injun or a
wildcat and there would be no special glory in it.
The chances are as much in his favor if he goes, for
all I can see, and it’s something to fall in battle, to die
doing one’s duty.”</p>
<p>“I question the duty,” replied Christine. “He
brought us here. His first duty is to stand by us
and see that we are taken care of.”</p>
<p>Neal bent his steady eyes upon her. “It’s a pity
that you ever thought of coming to this crude country
as you call it. Any one that feels as you do had
better stay at home.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t feel so when we started. I didn’t know
what awaited us. I have lost my faith in Texas.”
She sat down and dropped her hands listlessly in her
lap.</p>
<p>Neal regarded her silently for a minute. “You’re
not like those Revolutionary ancestors of yours that
you were telling me about the other day; they sent
their husbands and brothers to the war with the word
that they were to fight to the last lick. But then I
don’t know as I blame ye, pore little gal,” he said
under his breath. “Allie gone to fetch John?” he
asked after a pause.</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Don’t begrudge him to us, Miss Christine. John
won’t leave you all alone. I shouldn’t wonder if he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>
could get old Pedro Garcia and his daughter to come
stay on the rancho. There’s the empty cabin, you
know.”</p>
<p>“Steve’s cabin?” Christine shook her head in opposition
to the suggestion.</p>
<p>“It ain’t any use to have it stand there and fall to
pieces, is it?” he said. “I wish to heavens Steve was
still in it, but if he was here he’d be going off, too, to
this war, and you’d have that trouble to face. There’s
no good looking behind. The best way is to let what’s
gone lie still and keep on a-stepping forward.”</p>
<p>Christine sighed. “I can’t look forward with much
joy unless I let myself believe that Steve will come
back.”</p>
<p>“Don’t do any harm to believe it.”</p>
<p>“Do you think there is the slightest hope?”</p>
<p>“Of course there’s a chance, not much of a one, I’ll
admit, but Steve was a good fighter.”</p>
<p>“Was? Can’t you say <i>is</i>?”</p>
<p>“I’ll say it till I have to say <i>was</i>. We’ve always
been good friends, Steve and I. He’s spoken of you
to me,” added Neal a little hesitatingly.</p>
<p>“I felt sure of that, and it is why I have always
felt that I could talk to you more freely.”</p>
<p>Neal’s happy smile brightened his face. “That’s
right. I want you to feel that you can do that. I
know how Steve looked forward to your coming and
what his dreams were. I know that we hadn’t a man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>
in the country that I’d rather call my friend than
Steve Hayward. Now, Miss Christine, don’t let your
feelings interfere with the needs of our army. We
want John and you must let him go. That little sister
of yours has grit; she’ll stand by you.”</p>
<p>“Alison? She is still such a child. She doesn’t
know the troubles that lie in wait for us; she doesn’t
understand the bitterness of disappointment.”</p>
<p>“She’s got the grit to stand it when it comes, and
that red-headed Lou of yours ain’t far behind her.
She don’t stand at anything. I’d as lief have her
about as a man.”</p>
<p>“I suppose I do seem very foolish, a silly, weak sort
of creature, to you,” returned Christine with a little
show of petulance.</p>
<p>“No, I can’t say that,” returned Neal candidly,
“but I think you let yourself mope too much. You’re
the oldest; you owe it to that little sister of yours to
brace up and get through this with all the courage
that’s in you. I’m pretty free-spoken, I know, Miss
Christine, but—it hurts a fellow to see a girl like you
spending her life pining after what can’t be helped.”
He drew out his bowie-knife and fell to examining the
keen blade, and then John came in.</p>
<p>“Well, it’s come, has it?” was John’s greeting.</p>
<p>Neal nodded.</p>
<p>“Then I’m off with the rest.”</p>
<p>“But not yet, not just yet,” pleaded Christine.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>“To be sure I must see that you girls have some one
here to look after you. Fortunately we’ve nearer
neighbors than we had six months ago; the settlement’s
growing, and since the treaty, and the coming in of
the troops, there’s no fear of Injuns, so I reckon you
won’t be carried off. I’ll see if Bud Haley will look
after the crops and we’ll have to get some one to stay
on the place to see to the stock.” John’s mind was
working rapidly. He never delayed when there was
any important matter to be settled.</p>
<p>“I think old Pedro Garcia would be as good a man
as you could get to stay on the place,” said Neal.
“He knows how to get hold of the best of the Greasers
and is rather particular who comes loafing about,
on his daughter’s account. She’s a pretty little creetur,
that Lolita Garcia, and I don’t wonder he
watches her like a hawk. Suppose I go and look up
the old fellow and send him over to you. I’ve no family
to keep me and I thought you and I might start
off soldiering together.”</p>
<p>“First-rate idea,” declared John. “I’m with you,
Neal. Then I will ride over to see Bud, and, if you
will hunt up Pedro, we can make tracks in no time.”</p>
<p>Christine offered no further word of protest, but
watched the two men mount and ride off down the
road and on till they were lost to sight. Then the girl
felt an arm around her waist. “Isn’t it glorious,” said
Alison, “to be a man and to be able to go to war?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>“Yes, I think it is much more so than to be a woman
and to sit at home and see your dear ones leave, to go
perhaps to their death.”</p>
<p>“Don’t hint at such a thing,” returned Alison.
“We shall be sure to win.”</p>
<p>“With no fighting?”</p>
<p>“Of course there’ll be fighting, but John will not be
killed.”</p>
<p>“How do you know that?”</p>
<p>“I feel positive of it. At all events we shall see
none of the fighting, for it will not be in our part of
the country. Mr. Jordan says so.”</p>
<p>“You pin your faith on what he says, always, I
think.”</p>
<p>“No—yes, I believe I do, for he knows a great
deal; he has lived here so long. Where did they go,
Tina?”</p>
<p>“John has gone to Haley’s and Neal to hunt up
Pedro.”</p>
<p>“Why Pedro?”</p>
<p>“John thinks he can get him to stay here while he
is away.”</p>
<p>“Good! Will he bring his daughter? I’ve always
been dying to see her; they say she is a
beauty.”</p>
<p>“Who says so?”</p>
<p>“Oh, everybody; Neal Jordan.”</p>
<p>“Is he everybody?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>“No, but he certainly is somebody in this community.
Where shall we put Pedro, Tina?”</p>
<p>“In Steve’s cabin, I suppose,” sighed Christine.</p>
<p>Alison felt the awkward silence which followed.
She had no word of comfort to offer, and, as time
went on, dreaded having the subject of Stephen’s disappearance
come up. She realized that, though six
months had passed, her sister had not forgotten.</p>
<p>Many improvements had been made within the time
of their stay on the rancho. The cabin now had a gallery
added; the upper room was partitioned off into
three sleeping apartments, and John talked of still
further increasing the accommodations by building a
“man’s room,” so that theirs would be as commodious
as any of the newer buildings. Six months, too, had
increased the number of settlers in the neighborhood
so that now the community was quite a large one, and
in consequence all were safer. The Rosses, to be sure,
were on the edge of the settlement, for John had declared
he did not want to be crowded, and the farm
was a large one. To the right of them lay the woodlands,
to the left the prairie, while before them
stretched the settlement, whose houses they could see
beyond the clearing, and which gave them a sense of
protection.</p>
<p>In less than an hour John returned, having dispatched
his business with his usual energy. Now he
was ready to make preparations for his departure.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>
“Bud says he’ll do his best for us,” he told the girls.
“Wishes he could go, too, but he says that though
Santa Anna may be a one-legged man it is not to be
expected that all one-legged men will fight. He has
done his share of it, has Bud, and nobody will cast it
up to him if he stays home. He has promised to slip
up here whenever he can and you can depend upon
him. If anything goes wrong just consult him about
it.”</p>
<p>“And between times I can keep an eye on the
place,” said Alison.</p>
<p>John laughed. “I believe that’s just what you will
do. I’m not afraid of anything but losing the horses;
all the horse thieves are not Injuns.”</p>
<p>“They shan’t steal our horses, whoever they are,”
declared Alison.</p>
<p>“How are you going to help it?”</p>
<p>For answer Alison picked up her brother’s long rifle,
stepped forward, aimed at a mark on the fence and
fired. Then she ran down to examine the mark.
“Within an inch,” she called back.</p>
<p>John followed her to the spot. “Humph! pretty
good for a girl. The gun never made you flinch.
Who taught you how to shoot?”</p>
<p>“Mr. Jordan. He said I ought to know, that it
might come in handy some time. You must leave us
firearms, John, for Louisa is pretty nearly as good a
shot as I am, and Christine can use a pistol, though<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>
she hasn’t tried the rifle; she’s afraid it will kick. I
had a lot of kicks in the beginning. The first time I
tried I went over as if I had shot myself from the butt
end. I was so mad. It wouldn’t have been half so
bad if Neal hadn’t been there. It was his rifle I was
using and he came out just in time to see me; but then
he showed me how to use it properly, so perhaps, after
all, it was as well.”</p>
<p>“I’ll leave you each a pistol,” said John, “and
there’s my smaller rifle that can be used in an emergency.”</p>
<p>“I’ll begin to practice with that,” declared Alison,
“and I will protect your horses so well that you will
find every one when you come back. I think Christine
would stand to her guns if any one offered to lay
hands on Hero, and Lou hasn’t a bit of fear in her.
If Pedro can come we shall get along nicely, for he
is the decentest old Greaser I know.”</p>
<p>Her hopes in this direction were realized, for Pedro
returned with Neal, and after a long talk which took
place down at the little cabin, it was arranged that he
should take charge while John was away, bringing his
young daughter and establishing himself in the deserted
cabin; it was comfortable and sufficiently well
furnished for persons more particular than Pedro
Garcia.</p>
<p>The old Mexican arrived, bag and baggage, the
next day, his pretty daughter with her wonderful<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>
dark eyes and her wealth of hair being at once the
admiration of Alison, who pounced upon her and bore
her triumphantly to the house to display her to Christine.
Late in the afternoon John and Neal started to
join Jack Hays and his Texas Rangers. Bowie-knives
in order, pistols in belts, rifles across knees,
they rode away. Bravely though Alison had given
her help, had seen to every detail of her brother’s
outfit and had sent him off with a smile, as he disappeared
from sight she rushed from the house to a little
hiding-place in the chaparral and there concealed herself
till the sun was low in the west and the green
trees along the river course whispered in the evening
breeze. No one should behold her in this hour of
trouble. Perchance an inquisitive jack-rabbit might
lift his long ears and peer at her from his cover, or an
impertinent prairie dog might peep from his hole to
observe the intruder, but the world of human things
should not witness her in tears.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V<br>
<small>IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap2">AS she lay in the shelter of her hiding-place, her
grief so subdued that only a sigh once in a
while escaped her, Alison heard a rustling in the
thicket. Who could have discovered her lair? Neal
had cut away for her the thick tangle of vine, bush,
and thorn, the undergrowth which made up the
chaparral, and she had called it her fortress. Only
Neal and herself knew the way to it, for the path was
cleverly cleared beyond a group of trees standing by
the road, and one must needs climb one of the trees
and drop from a lower limb before the spot could be
reached. Alison started to her feet at sound of the
intruder. It might be a prowling coyote or other
woods creature, for evening was approaching when
the wild things of the forest were bolder. But it was
nothing wilder than Lolita who had found her out
and who smiled at her over the top of the thicket saying
caressingly: “Pobrecita! Ella no es feliz. You
make a cry?” she asked hesitatingly.</p>
<p>Alison shook her head but Lolita pointed to her
own eye and nodded emphatically. “The weep, I see
him,” she said.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>At this Alison smiled. The broken English of
Pedro always entertained her and Lolita’s was even
more amusing. “No mas,” she said, drawing on her
own small stock of Spanish.</p>
<p>Lolita nodded understandingly. “Is go the broth’r,”
she said. “Is make you the weep. Si, si. I come
for look you. So long is go you.”</p>
<p>“I believe I have been here a good while,” Alison
returned. “I suppose Christine wonders what has
become of me. I shouldn’t have left her all this time.
Lolita, no tell—no say you of this place—— Oh,
dear, how can I make her understand she is not to say
anything about it. I wouldn’t have any one find my
hiding-place for the world. I wonder what secret is
in Spanish. I’ll risk <i>secreto</i>; it sounds as if it might
be right.” She pointed to the small cleared space in
the midst of the chaparral. “Mi secreto,” she said.</p>
<p>Lolita nodded, smiling assurance, and poured forth
a speech not a word of which Alison understood. “I
suppose she means she will not tell.” Then by pointing
to her lips, shaking her head and repeating: “Mi
secreto,” she gained in response significant gestures
which satisfied her that Lolita understood perfectly,
and that nothing would induce her to reveal the
secret. “I’ll have to learn Spanish; that’s all there
is about it, or I shall never be able to get along. To
be sure Pedro understands me pretty well and can get
off a sort of talk which I can partly translate, but I’d<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>
better pitch in and study. I’ve no doubt that John
has some sort of Spanish books in the house; I’ll look
them up and meantime I will learn all I can from
Lolita and Pedro. Christine cannot say I am not improving
my opportunities.” She smiled brightly at
Lolita, and the two went together to the house, each
trying to make the other comprehend, and such a
funny business did this appear to be, that by the time
they reached the door, they were both laughing in the
happy, foolish way characteristic of young things like
themselves.</p>
<p>At the house the two parted. Alison was surprised
to find Christine perfectly calm, going about her
evening duties. She looked at Alison keenly and the
traces of tears did not escape her notice, though she
made no sign. She could not forget Neal’s words:
“You’re the oldest; you owe it to that little sister of
yours to brace up and get through this with all the
courage that’s in you.” To be sure, she argued to herself,
Neal Jordan had no right to inform her as to her
duty, but she could not forget what he had said. It
struck her the more forcibly as she realized that
Alison had crept off alone to make her moan, and that
she was a brave little lass who did not flinch when
trouble came, and who did not ask any one to bear it
with her. “I must not let that child outdo me,”
Christine told herself. “I must get together all
the courage that’s in me.” So she looked up smiling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>
and said: “Guess what we are going to have for
supper?”</p>
<p>“What?” Alison paused and sniffed the odors
coming from the kitchen, then started for that room.</p>
<p>Christine caught her. “No, it’s a surprise.”</p>
<p>“I smell them. Flapjacks.”</p>
<p>“And what else?” Christine wheeled her round
and displayed a plate of fruit cake and a dish of preserved
figs prepared after the fashion of the country.</p>
<p>“Where did you get them?” asked Alison. “What
a feast we shall have.”</p>
<p>“I brought the cake from home, I have saved it
all this time, and the figs Lolita presented to us. I
thought this evening we needed something to ’liven
us up and so I unsealed my stone crock of cake and
Louisa offered to make the flapjacks.” Christine refrained
from asking Alison anything concerning her
afternoon, and they ate their little feast, each the
stronger because of helping the other to face the sacrifice
which John’s going meant.</p>
<p>Matters went on quietly for a week after this. Alison
improved the opportunity to increase her knowledge
of Spanish, while Lolita’s English was added
to in like proportion. This mutual desire to learn
brought the two younger girls often together, and as
Lolita had her own duties to perform Alison sometimes
offered to help, that the little Mexican might be
free to run out of doors with her. They were so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>
great a contrast that Christine smiled to see them
together; Alison tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed, white of
skin, slight of figure; Lolita scarce up to Alison’s
shoulder, her long dark tresses reaching below her
waist, her melting brown eyes fringed by long lashes,
her skin pale and colorless, her little figure already
rounded and plump as that of a more mature person.
That Alison should run wild with the daughter of a
Greaser whose life had been spent in a mud adobe,
would hardly have been countenanced by Aunt
Miranda Brown, and, indeed, it was probable that
it would not have been approved by John and his
friend Neal Jordan, though the latter was hail-fellow-well-met
with every newcomer in the county.
But, democratic though he was, Neal Jordan possessed
the pride of his Southern ancestors and while the
daughter of the old Mexican wagoner might be his
partner at a fandango he would have discountenanced
her intimate friendship with the sister of his friend,
Texas John. Alison, however, had no brother and no
Neal at hand to criticise, and while the Spanish she
acquired was hardly pure Castilian, the vocabulary
was such as would serve her well in Texas and she
enjoyed learning from Lolita other things besides
words. She would squat down by her side and help
her prepare tortillas and frijoles for Pedro’s dinner;
she learned how to drape a reboso gracefully around
her, how to ride a Texas mustang, while various other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>
accomplishments were added to her list. She found
time to practice at the round white mark Neal had
made upon the fence, and the crack of her rifle was
heard daily. Christine and Louisa, too, joined in the
target practice, but as neither was enthusiastic in preparing
food <i>à la Mexicaine</i> they were perfectly willing
that Alison should carry off the honors in that
direction.</p>
<p>“There,” said Alison, one day as the girls stood
together practicing at the mark, “that’s the best shot
yet. I’d like Neal to see that, and I don’t believe he
could beat it. Let me have the pistol, Tina, and see
if I can do as well with that.” She fired again but
this time went wide of the mark. “If that had been
an Indian I should only have winged him,” she remarked,
“though with the rifle I should have pierced
his heart.”</p>
<p>“You bloodthirsty little creature,” cried Christine.
“I wonder how you would feel if you actually saw
one dead at your feet from a shot of yours.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know; it would depend upon the aggravation,”
returned Alison. “Ugh! I don’t like to think
of Indians. I hope I shall never see many. I’ll race
you to the house, Lou, and carry the rifle in the bargain.
Double-quick, now.” She started the pace and
arrived breathless, Louisa close at her heels and Christine
following more sedately.</p>
<p>“There’s one thing,” said Alison, as she hung up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>
the rifle, “we’ll know how to use these things if ever
we need to. Ah, there comes Pedro with some honey;
he said he had found a tree.” The queer double gourd
which Pedro carried was indeed a receptacle for the
honey he had found. Nothing was too good for Alison
who had shown such kindness to his daughter,
and every day came some new offering. Strange
uneatable things sometimes they were, but Alison
always accepted them graciously and when she could
not eat the, to her, unpalatable cakes made of flour,
lard and molasses, she fed them to the pigs and Pedro
was never the wiser. On this occasion the honey was
very acceptable and served as a fine accompaniment
to Louisa’s hot biscuits.</p>
<p>Whether it was because of a too great indulgence
in these delicacies, or whether it was that she had
worked herself up into a state of nervousness by fancying
what she really would do if attacked by Indians,
certain it was that Alison did not sleep well that
night. More than once she turned on her pillow and
listened to Christine’s quiet breathing, wishing she
too, were sleeping soundly. Every noise seemed exaggerated.
Twice she sat up in bed believing she
heard something on the roof. A third time she was
convinced that there was an unusual commotion
among the horses in the stable. Surely it was no
fancy. She crept softly from the bed and stole to the
window which looked towards the outbuildings. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>
night was moonless, but by the light of the stars she
could distinguish moving forms about the stable door.
She hesitated a moment, groped her way towards the
bed, paused a second, deciding not to awaken her sister,
then she hastily felt for her clothes, slipped into her
frock and tiptoed from the room to the adjoining one
where Louisa slept.</p>
<p>At the whispered word: “Louisa!” the girl sprang
up. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Anybody
sick?”</p>
<p>“Sh!” returned Alison. “I don’t want to wake
Tina, but I believe there are horse thieves down at the
stable. Do you dare go with me?”</p>
<p>“Go where?”</p>
<p>“I’ll show you. I think we can hide and maybe can
scare them off.”</p>
<p>Louisa was not one to stand at anything, so she
slipped out of bed, got into her clothes and the two
went stealthily down the stairs. Alison reached for
the long rifle. Louisa possessed herself of two pistols.
Alison led the way, creeping along in the shadows,
her dark-blue gown rendering her inconspicuous enough
to prevent her being observed by any one on the
watch. The night was mild and quiet. Overhead the
stars shone brightly. A hundred odors arose from the
masses of prairie flowers. The night breeze in the
trees, the distant plash of the river, the bark of a coyote,
the screech of an owl, once in a while the wild<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>
note of a mocking-bird, these were all the sounds distinguishable,
as the two girls stole to the clump of
trees at the edge of the chaparral.</p>
<p>“They’ll have to pass down the road,” whispered
Alison as they came to a halt under the trees. “If
they have Hero I shall surely fire. Do you suppose it
is Indians?”</p>
<p>“Laws, I hope not,” whispered Louisa.</p>
<p>“Can you climb this tree? Out to that furthest
limb?” asked Alison.</p>
<p>“I should hope so,” returned Louisa.</p>
<p>Alison crept along the extended limb and suddenly
dropped from it to the ground. Louisa, in good faith,
imitated her movement, though it would seem to the
uninitiated as if only a tangle of thorn and brier were
below to receive them. However, Alison knew her
way well, and presently they were hidden in the
depth of the thicket, kneeling on the ground and peeping
through the screen of leaf and bramble.</p>
<p>At some distance away the group of buildings
loomed up darkly under the starry heavens; first the
house and its nearer outbuildings, hen-house, meat-house,
corn-crib and wood-shed; a little beyond these
stood the stable. The girls heard the tramping of the
horses and saw dark figures moving stealthily. There
were apparently only two or three persons. Alison’s
heart beat fast. She felt very sure that this hiding-place
of hers would not be discovered, that a fire<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>
directed from this point of vantage would surprise the
intruders and, unless they were in large enough numbers
to assume the offensive, that she and Louisa might
well expect to frighten them off. She knew that Hero
was the most valuable of the horses and was Christine’s
especial pet; the fact of his belonging to Stephen
gave him so large a claim upon her affections that if
he were taken she would be inconsolable, therefore
Alison was determined to rescue him at all hazards.
The others she would be sorry to lose, but they were less
valuable. She hoped that Christine would not awaken,
for if she gave the alarm and directed the men’s attention
to the house where she was alone it might be the
worse for her, since a desperado would stand at nothing.
The country was full of such men who lost no
opportunity of securing plunder whenever chance
afforded, and who would not hesitate to commit murder
when thwarted. Dreadful possibilities crowded to
Alison’s mind as she crouched in the dew-laden thicket
by Louisa’s side. She regretted her sudden resolve in
leaving the house and shivered, not from the chill of
the night air, but from a sharp alarm.</p>
<p>“Skeered?” whispered Louisa.</p>
<p>“No, not exactly,” Alison returned. “I was thinking
of Tina; if she should wake up; if they were to go
to the house and find her alone.”</p>
<p>“Sh!” Louisa appreciated the situation, but her
courage was high. “I don’t believe they want anything<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>
but the horses and they ain’t got an idea of going
to the house.” She kept her eyes fixed upon the
stable from which now came three mounted horsemen.
Each of the two foremost men led two horses and the
third had Hero in charge. Alison set her teeth hard
as the first two men passed beyond the clump of trees,
and just here, as luck would have it, the last of the
three fell a little behind the others on account of
Hero’s sudden swerving. Did he detect the presence
of his friends hidden in the thicket, that he plunged
and pranced at such a rate? At all events his behavior
called down growling curses from the man who led him.</p>
<p>“It is Hero,” whispered Alison. “He shall not be
taken.” And with this one thought in her mind she
raised her rifle and fired. Louisa, too, discharged first
one pistol and then the other, aiming at nothing in
particular, for at Alison’s shot the man reeled from his
saddle and fell to the ground. Hero promptly cantered
back to his stable. The men in advance, hearing
the reports, cast a quick look behind them, spurred on
their horses and escaped, leaving their companion to
his fate.</p>
<p>After having used up all their ammunition the two
girls waited a while to see if the coast was clear, and
then they left their hiding-place, swung themselves
upon the low-hanging tree and made their way back
trembling with excitement, and dreading to see what
lay so still by the roadside.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>The noise of the firing had aroused both Christine
and Pedro. The former in an agony of fright awoke
to find Alison gone from her side and Louisa’s room
vacant. Without waiting to do more than throw
something around her, she rushed down-stairs to meet
Pedro in a frenzy of alarm for herself and Alison. He
poured forth question after question in broken English
which Christine could not understand, and as she began
with counter questions up came Alison and Louisa.
Christine grabbed her sister. “Where have you been?
What have you been doing?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Killing a man, I reckon,” returned Alison leaning
her rifle against the side of the house. “He’s down
there in the road, but we have saved Hero.”</p>
<p>“For pity’s sake, Alison, what do you mean?” said
Christine with shaking voice.</p>
<p>“I mean just what I say. I was awake and thought
I heard a noise among the horses, so I got up and
looked out and I saw two or three men down by the
stable. I waked Lou and we went down. I didn’t
think about its not being right to leave you alone, and
I didn’t really mean to kill anybody. I thought
maybe if we fired at the thieves they would think we
were a lot of men and would go off. There were only
two or three, you see, but when I found they had
Hero I got excited and fired right at the man—and—and
the man—the man dropped.” She burst into tears
and flung herself into Christine’s arms sobbing wildly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>“You poor child! you poor child!” murmured
Christine. “Have they gone off, Louisa? All the
rest of them?”</p>
<p>“Yes’m, I think so. They made quick tracks as
soon as they heard them shots. I kind of fired wild,
and didn’t hit anybody, but Allie’s gun did the
damage.”</p>
<p>“Did you wait to see if the man was really killed?”</p>
<p>“No, Allie was so anxious about you and was
skeered to go near that ornery crittur.”</p>
<p>“We must go out and see to him,” said Christine.
“Light the lantern, Louisa. You stay here, Alison.”</p>
<p>“No, no, I must go too.”</p>
<p>“But, dear child——”</p>
<p>“Never mind. I did it, and I must take the consequences.
I don’t suppose I’ll be hanged for it, but oh,
I would almost as soon be. I want to know as soon as
I can if he is really killed.” Therefore the little company,
headed by Pedro, went down the road to where
they distinguished a dark horse quietly cropping the
grass, his master lying motionless on the ground near
him.</p>
<p>Pedro knelt down and put his hand on the man’s
breast. “No is daid,” he said.</p>
<p>“I am so thankful, I am so thankful,” whispered
Alison.</p>
<p>“Can we get him to the house, do you think?” said
Christine.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>He was not a large man and by their united efforts
they were able to bear him to a room below stairs.
By the dim light and because of the blood stains upon
his face it was not easy to determine his age nor to
distinguish his features. At sight of the thin stream
which slowly trickled from his forehead Alison shuddered.</p>
<p>“I think you’d better see what has become of Hero,
Pedro,” said Christine. “We don’t want him to get
away after all this effort to save him. I think we can
manage very well to attend to this man. I do not believe
he is wounded so very badly. He is stunned,
but I don’t think the bullet did more than graze his
forehead.”</p>
<p>Pedro promised to see that the horse was safe and
to return immediately. The three girls then gave
their whole attention to the man, whom Louisa insisted
upon tying hand and foot. “He might be
playing ’possum,” she said, “and while Pedro is gone
he might try to get away. It’s best to be on the safe
side. I’m glad he ain’t a redskin,” she added as she
wiped the stains from his face and clothing and bound
up his head. “I suppose a horse thief is bad enough,
but somehow I don’t mind ’em as much as Injuns.
He’s coming ’round, Miss Tina.”</p>
<p>The man opened his eyes and uttered an ugly word.
“Who are ye and what are ye doing with me?” he
asked looking from one to another.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>“We are the people you were stealing horses from
when you got shot for it,” said Louisa with a sturdy
bluntness.</p>
<p>The man’s brows contracted, whether from pain or
anger Louisa could not determine.</p>
<p>“Where’s the fool that shot me?” the man asked.</p>
<p>“Where are you, Alison?” said Louisa with a broad
smile.</p>
<p>Alison came forward with a questioning look. “Do
you want me?”</p>
<p>“Yes, he wants to look at you.”</p>
<p>“That? That little squeak of a gal? You’re giving
me something I can’t swaller,” said the man.</p>
<p>“All the same she’s the one. I know I didn’t do it,
for there ain’t a pistol wound on ye. The rifle shot
struck you and sorter stunned ye more than it killed
ye, and ye just natchelly dropped. We’ve got your
horse and our best one, and when you’re able you can
get it back, if the boys’ll let ye.”</p>
<p>“There, Louisa, there,” remonstrated Christine.
“Wait till he is better.”</p>
<p>“Oh, fire away. I don’t like soft solder, and I
rather like her sass. As long as I’m not kilt I kin
light out and make tracks for home, I reckon.”</p>
<p>“You kin, but you won’t,” said Louisa. “I reckon
you’ll find you’re not as strong as ye think, and moreover
if you try to git away there’ll be somebody outside
to put a bullet in ye that’ll do better work than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>
Allie’s. We don’t let horse thieves git away so easy
as all that.”</p>
<p>“Hush, Louisa,” came peremptorily from Christine.</p>
<p>“He might as well have the truth. They’ll hang
him as high as Haman and you know it,” said Louisa
stoutly.</p>
<p>“Well, but do wait till he is better.”</p>
<p>“Oh, he’s all right. His head aches, maybe, but
he’ll git over that by the time they are through with
him.”</p>
<p>“Louisa, you are perfectly heartless.”</p>
<p>“Where was his heart when he came stealing
Hero? See here, Mr. Man, whoever you are, you
keep yourself quiet. You can’t get away. Every one
of us is a good shot, so you’d better make up your
mind to take it easy while you can. If you want to
go to sleep, we’ll watch. If you try to escape you
know what’s waiting for ye. Now make the best of
it.” She took a station not far from him, grimly
holding a pistol. Pedro had returned and was on
guard in the gallery. Christine and Alison snuggled
together in a corner. In a half hour the prisoner was
sleeping quietly. Louisa, wide awake, kept a ceaseless
watch.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI<br>
<small>FIDGETTY LOU MAKES A DISCOVERY</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE first gleam of the morning sun awakened the
wounded man. Its beams fell full upon the red
locks of Louisa, and shone upon her round face now
pale from her vigil. She had not discarded the pistol,
though she was weary and heavy-eyed. As the man’s
gaze was directed to the girl keeping watch he regarded
her with interest. “What’s your name?” he
presently snapped out.</p>
<p>“Louisa Sparks,” she answered, collecting her scattered
thoughts.</p>
<p>The man turned his head sharply though the effort
made him wince with pain. He uttered an exclamation
under his breath. “Where you from?” was his
second question.</p>
<p>“Kentucky, though I don’t know as it’s any business
of yours. Here, shut up and stop asking me
questions. I don’t want to talk to you.”</p>
<p>A grim smile appeared on the man’s face as he continued
to regard the girl by his side.</p>
<p>“You seem to be mighty pleased about something,”
said Louisa, looking at him disgustedly.</p>
<p>He gave a husky sort of chuckle. “You ain’t asked
my name,” he said presently.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>“I don’t want to know it. ’Tain’t nothing to me
who you are.”</p>
<p>“You’d just as well know. Ever happen to know
or hear of anybody named Cyrus Sparks, old Cy
Sparks?”</p>
<p>Louisa started, the don’t care expression leaving
her face. She leaned eagerly forward and gazed at
the man intently. Then she arose and softly closed
the door. “Are you any kin of mine?” she asked.
“If you are I’m ashamed of you.”</p>
<p>“I rather guess you’ll have to own me,” was the
reply. “I shouldn’t wonder if I was your dad.”</p>
<p>Louisa shrank back. “What do you mean? My
father died fifteen years ago; my mother told me so.”</p>
<p>“Your mother was Louisa Ricketts, wa’n’t she?”</p>
<p>“That was her name before she was married.”</p>
<p>“Thought so. You ain’t onlike her. I reckon I’m
your dad all right.”</p>
<p>“I tell you he’s dead.” Louisa spoke passionately.
“I should think my mother ought to know.”</p>
<p>“I rather think your dad knows better. To be sure
he let her think so. Wa’n’t no place fur her an’ the
young ’un down here with Injuns as thick as blackberries,
and he jest let her think that-away, you see.”</p>
<p>Louisa’s head jerked excitedly. “You bad, wicked
old man. I disown ye, I do. My father was a hero.
He died for Texas. He was a brave, good man. I’ll
not give him up for an old horse thief. You’re lying.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>
Them that steals would just as liefs lie, too, and I
don’t believe one word of it. You’re trying to fool
me. Your name may be Cyrus Sparks, but you’re no
kin of mine.”</p>
<p>“Let me see,” said the man, moving uneasily. “I
reckon I kin prove my right to the name all right,
and I reckon I kin prove my right to my darter, too.”</p>
<p>“Your right to me?” Louisa gazed at him with
startled eyes.</p>
<p>“Yes. You ain’t twenty-one yet and I reckon a
father has some claim on his darter.”</p>
<p>“Not if he has deserted her and left her an orphin
to be bound out to strangers.”</p>
<p>“Now, you don’t tell me it was that-away.” The
man turned his sharp old eyes upon her. “When did
yer mother die? Pore Louisy, she was a good sort,
and I hadn’t oughter hev left her. Seems as if I
must hev ben a wuthless kind of fellow. That’s why
I didn’t go back. I left her and the young un when
things looked pretty bad for me, pretty bad. I wrote
to her right reg’lar an’ I’d kep’ on a-writin’ if I hadn’t
heerd she was dead and the young un, too. Yes, you
needn’t doubt it. I did hear that and believed it too,
so I says to myself: what’s the use of goin’ back? I
ain’t nobody to welcome me; and as I was beginnin’
to git together a little property I thought I’d as well
stay whar I was. I can’t see I was to blame. Now,
look-a-here; your name is Louisa Sparks. Your mother<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>
was Louisa Ricketts, daughter of old Sol Ricketts and
Martha his wife. You was born Jinooary, eighteen
hundred and twenty-seven; yer dad lef’ home fur
Texas when you was about three year old and your
mother went to her folks. Your dad was red-headed;
look at my red head. He was son of Jeremiah Sparks
and Laviny his wife. That’s me. Now ain’t I giving
ye family history all straight?”</p>
<p>Louisa sat silently listening, and after waiting a
minute for a response the man went on. “Your
mother had fa’r skin, brown ha’r an’ eyes. She was
a fine figger, but a leetle tetchy in disposition. She
was fond of me, yes, Lou was, and I was good to her,
ain’t she said so?” Louisa nodded silently.</p>
<p>The man continued. “Mebbe ef I’d stayed things
might hev been diff’rent, but, no, I reckon I never
could hev done as well as I’m a-doin’ here. Now, I
dare say ye ain’t got a scrap of yer dad’s writin’? Ef
ye hev and I could git my hands free I’d show ye my
fist so ye could compare the two, ef ye don’t believe
me.” Then suddenly. “Why, shucks, gal, what on
airth do ye reckon I’d want to claim a strange gal
fer? Ye ain’t so purty; ye ain’t no fortin; ye ain’t
no prospicks. What on airth would I be tellin’ ye all
this fer ef I didn’t hev some natrel affection and
wanted ye jest because yer my own flesh an’ blood?
Now, look-a-here, you come to yer dad. He ain’t so
terble po’ly off, and maybe he’ll git together sompin’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>
more to leave ye, and ye won’t be destitute when he’s
gone.”</p>
<p>Louisa helplessly twisted her fingers together. She
began to believe the man was speaking the truth, but
it was hard to readjust her attitude of mind. The
father of her affections was a hero, a soldier, one
whom she reverenced and whose name was enshrined
with that of her mother in a fragrant memory. How
could she accept this old man, horse thief and perhaps
worse? “But my father was a soldier, an honorable
man who died for Texas,” she quavered, her beliefs
dying hard.</p>
<p>“Well, if I didn’t die for Texas, I’m like to die of
her,” remarked Cyrus, “especially ef I don’t git out of
this. I was a soldier all right an’ shed my blood. I
was reported dead. That’s all true enough.”</p>
<p>“But now—now you are a horse thief.” Louisa
spoke with passionate reproach.</p>
<p>“Who says I am?” said Cyrus coolly.</p>
<p>“I do. Why, you can’t deny it. Didn’t we catch
you in the very act of stealing our horses?”</p>
<p>“Whose horse did ye see me takin’ away? Was it
yourn?”</p>
<p>“No, it wasn’t mine.”</p>
<p>“Was it either of them other gals’?”</p>
<p>“No, not theirs.”</p>
<p>“Was it John Ross’s then?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>“Then whose was it, and what right had anybody
here to claim it?”</p>
<p>“It belongs to Steve Hayward.”</p>
<p>“And where’s Steve Hayward?”</p>
<p>“No one knows.”</p>
<p>“Then how do ye know the horse is his? Why
gal, yer ’way off. Thet horse is mine. I bought
him off of Steve Hayward and he got away from my
place, broke loose and came back here. I didn’t hear
of it till a bit ago. I been a-lookin’ fer thet hoss fer
weeks an’ months. I suppose it might hev been better
if I hed come up and claimed him, but I heerd thar
wa’n’t anybody but you gals about, and I knew how
women folks is, so rather than make any trouble I
thought I’d jest come in quiet like an’ he’p myself to
my own.”</p>
<p>“But those other men, those who were with you,”
said Louisa bewildered by this unexpected defense,
“they surely did steal three of Mr. John’s horses.”</p>
<p>“Lord, you can’t expect me to be accountable for
what other men do. They came along to be company
an’ the temptation was too great. One pore old
wounded man couldn’t hold ’em back when they had
once made up their minds. It was as much as my life
was worth to battle with two great, powerful men.
They knowed nobody was here to foller ’em and they
saw a chanst of bettering therselves. I couldn’t do
nothin’, yet here I lay takin’ the brunt of it all.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>All this was amazing to Louisa. She hardly knew
what to believe. He spoke so plausibly, in such an
injured tone, that she began to feel herself in the
wrong.</p>
<p>“Moreover,” Cyrus Sparks went on, “I’d like to
know what right any one has to Stephen Hayward’s
property. Ef he’s dead an’ gone why don’t his heirs
come forrard? Ef he ain’t got no heirs one has as
much right as another and I can’t see that I’d be any
more stealin’ than John Ross is. ’Tain’t his, and if it
ain’t mine whose is it? Not John Ross’s.”</p>
<p>This logic added to Louisa’s bewilderment. She
felt as if the world were suddenly turned upside
down. All her preconceived ideas were overthrown
and she looked at the man in helpless amazement.</p>
<p>“Now, you see then, I’m the fellow that’s got the
law on my side. I’m taking peaceable possession of
my property and first thing I get a bullet in me.”
He edged nearer Louisa. “Now, I ain’t goin’ to be
hard on nobody, especially on no women folks. You
just leave me loose an’ come go home with me
and I’ll promise not to prosecute none of ’em. I see
that little gal don’t know she was actin’ agin the
law and I’d hate to see her in jail, so I’ll keep quiet if
you will. What d’ye say? Is it a bargain?”</p>
<p>Poor Louisa, this turning of the tables was too
much for her loyalty and she murmured a faint:
“Yes.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>“Ye see,” continued Cyrus pressing his advantage,
“I ain’t got no witnesses nor no writin’ to prove I
bought that hoss often Steve, but ef he was here he’d
tell ye it was all right. Now, as I ain’t got no
guarantee, an’ nobody knows about the transaction,
these fellers about here might think I really did try
to steal him and you know what would happen ef ye
give me up. You know I wouldn’t stand no kind of
chanst; I’d git strung up instid of dyin’ fer my country
or in my bed like an honest man. You’d hate to
hev ’em say your dad died like a horse thief, now
wouldn’t ye, Lou? An’ him innercent, too.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it would be dreadful,” murmured Louisa.</p>
<p>“Thought you’d feel as I do about it. So then, I’ll
be generous an’ not press my claim to the hoss, not
yet, anyhow. I’ll jest leave him here for the present,
and if Steve never comes back to prove my word is
true, why let these people keep him fer what they’ve
done fer you.”</p>
<p>This speech struck a responsive chord in Louisa’s
breast. She loved the Ross family one and all. The
dreadful possibilities that Cyrus had suggested filled
her with alarm. She had little knowledge of the
world and of the workings of the law. She believed
the man to be really her father. It was true that she
had neither beauty nor fortune, then why indeed
should he wish to claim her if not from fatherly
affection? True he did not fulfil her ideal, but the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>
fact was here to face. She ought to believe him
innocent till he was proved guilty. If his story were
true he was not to be greatly censured. She began
to feel a faint stirring of filial affection and to respond
to his desire that his home should be hers. She had
always so boldly announced that she was going to
Texas for her father’s sake and now had come a
greater opportunity to prove it than she had ever
dreamed of. After all, why was it not a great thing
for the poor orphan girl? Fidgetty Lou to possess
the protection of a father, to live under his roof, and
some day to be an heiress! Why, it was like a novel.
The man’s story appeared more and more plausible
as she gave herself over to these thoughts, and at
length she had persuaded herself that it would be
absolutely wicked to yield up her own father to the
authorities. If Steve should one day reappear and
vouch for his story, and she had failed to save her
father from an ignominious death what remorse would
be hers. She leaned over and began to unfasten the
bandages which bound hands and feet, then helped the
man rise. He was not an attractive personality and
Louisa did not feel a return of that sudden stirring of
affection, but as the man staggered slightly she put
out her strong arm to steady him.</p>
<p>“Little onsteady on the pins,” he remarked.
“You’ll be a prop to your old dad in his declinin’
years, won’t you, Lou? Ye shan’t lose by it. To<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>
think of that little squeak of a gal doin’ up Cy Sparks,
this-a way gits me. Jest leave me set down and get
me a drop of somethin’ or other an’ I’ll be all right.
I’ve got out of worse scrapes than this—when I was
in the army,” he added. “Now you’ll get me home,
won’t ye?”</p>
<p>“Now? To-day?”</p>
<p>“Why yes, the sooner the better.”</p>
<p>“I’ll have to make some explanation to Miss Tina
and Alison.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, of course, or else they might——”</p>
<p>“Or else they might set the neighbors on your track.
I think Pedro may have gone already.”</p>
<p>“Then let’s hurry and light out. These here Texans
are so suspicious, always so impatient. They won’t
listen to reason, and even if you was to tell ’em you
was my darter they wouldn’t listen to it. My, my,
but I’m goin’ to take comfort in my child. All these
years a pore, lonely man, thinkin’ all he loved was
dead an’ gone; it’s a great change for Cyrus Sparks,
I tell ye. Go tell ’em, Louisy, an’ let’s git off before
there’s trouble. I’ll keep clost fer a few days an’ nobody
will be the wiser. I wouldn’t have a ha’r of
that gal’s head in danger, though she did come near
to making an end of me, an’ so I’ll keep clost.”</p>
<p>Louisa’s fears being sufficiently aroused she rushed
to where Christine and Alison were. Now that it was
light they had given over their watch, had despatched<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>
Pedro for Bud Haley and were preparing to get
breakfast when Louisa appeared with her astounding
tale. She told it in such a way as to carry conviction
and although both sisters begged her not to leave
them till more could be proved, she declared it was
her duty and so worked upon their sympathies that
they hurried her departure, and within a half hour
Cyrus Sparks, with his daughter mounted behind him
upon his horse, started forth.</p>
<p>Alison and Christine watched them out of sight and
then turned back to the house which seemed lonely
without Louisa’s cheerful presence. “We mustn’t let
any one know that Louisa has gone, not just yet,” said
Christine. “They might suspect that our prisoner was
her father. We’ll try and keep her going a secret for
a few days and must simply say that our prisoner escaped
while Pedro was gone.”</p>
<p>“I hate to have any one think we couldn’t guard
him any better than that,” said Alison.</p>
<p>“We’ll have to let them think so for Louisa’s sake.
Poor Lou, she was so upset, and I don’t wonder. It
certainly is a most remarkable episode. I must confess
I don’t admire the looks of Cyrus Sparks.”</p>
<p>“Nor I, but one cannot always judge by appearances,
and we must hope that he will treat her well.”</p>
<p>“If he doesn’t she must come back to us. We’ll ask
the boys to look out for her. Ira Korner will have
an eye to all that concerns Louisa, you may be sure.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>“And if this horrid old war were not going on there
would be John and Neal and Reub to see how matters
stand. Come, let’s have our breakfast, for Pedro will
be back directly.”</p>
<p>It was not very long before Pedro with two other
men clattered up to the door and, without ceremony,
stalked into the house. “Where’s your man?” cried
Bud Haley.</p>
<p>“Oh,” the girls looked at each other in pretended
consternation, “he’s gone. He got away.”</p>
<p>“The—dickens he did.” Bud looked at Pedro disgustedly.
“You said he was bound. You——”</p>
<p>“He is make fas’. I am see so,” said Pedro, deprecatingly.</p>
<p>“They’re mighty cute, some of these fellows,” put
in Blythe Van Dorn, a curly haired, broad-shouldered
youth. “They know a trick or two and can get out
of ’most any tie-up. How long since he got away?”</p>
<p>“A very little while after Pedro left.”</p>
<p>“Where’s Lou?” Bud looked around inquiringly.</p>
<p>“She’s gone after him.”</p>
<p>Bud laughed. “You bet she has. That gal’s got
sense. She ain’t skeered o’ nothin’. Hope she’ll get
him. Which way did he go, footback or horseback?”</p>
<p>“He got his horse from the stable and went off
flying,” Alison told him. “I don’t believe you’d ever
catch him now. You’d better stop and have some
breakfast.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>“Can’t do it. We must try to catch up. Maybe
we’ll come acrost Lou and she can tell us which way
he went. We can strike his trail easy, I reckon, and
kin spot him before night. We’ll stop on our way
back and get you to identify him if we catch him.
What did he look like?”</p>
<p>Alison glanced at Pedro. “He seemed very heavy
when we lifted him in.”</p>
<p>Pedro grinned. “No so ’eavy. No larges mans,”
he said.</p>
<p>“Oh, I think he was very heavy,” insisted Alison.</p>
<p>“Ole mans,” put in Pedro.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, not so old as you, Pedro; he didn’t look
so.”</p>
<p>Pedro shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe is not.
Pedro no is so ole. ’E ’ave no so many year as ’e
’ave a looks ole.”</p>
<p>“I reckon that’s about so,” remarked Blythe.
“These greasers age mighty soon. Well, never
mind his age, Miss Alison, we’ll follow the
trail.”</p>
<p>They were off and the girls despatched Pedro to the
performance of the morning duties while they took up
their own tasks. They missed Louisa’s ready help and
the chirruping song with which she enlivened her
work, emphasizing the stirring up of flapjacks, the
rolling out of biscuits or the scouring of a kettle by
singing:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="first">“Chirping little cricket</div>
<div class="verse">Singing in the thicket,</div>
<div class="verse">Chirping do not cease.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>“I certainly do miss the cricket this morning,” said
Christine, as she wrung out the dish-cloth.</p>
<p>Alison smiled and glanced out of the window.
“Yes, and I miss seeing Lou’s blue sunbonnet in the
garden patch. Why, Tina, there it comes. It is Lou,
as I live! She’s coming back!”</p>
<p>They flew to the door and beheld Louisa, indeed,
plodding up the road. Seeing the two girls she
snatched off her bonnet and waved it. “I’d know
her blessed old red head if I didn’t know her bonnet,”
said Alison. “I must go and meet her.” She ran out
into the sunshine. “Oh, Lou, Lou,” she began before
she reached the girl, “we were missing you so much.
How good it is to see you back again. How did it
happen that you came?”</p>
<p>Louisa sat down on the front step and began to fan
herself with her sunbonnet. The day was approaching
noon and was warm. She had walked far and
rapidly. “He thought I’d better come back,” she
said; “not for good, but for a little while till this all
blows over. I thought I’d ought to stay and take
care of him, but he said he’d an old Mexican there
that was used to doing for him and he’d been worse
off. When he gets better he’ll come for me. I got<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>
him safe home. I was afraid he was going to faint by
the way, but he didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Bud and Blythe Van Dorn have gone after him.”</p>
<p>“They won’t catch him. He’s pretty cute and
knows how to put ’em off the track. We went down
the road a piece and then we struck off into the woods
till we came to a stream; he walked the horse through
that stream, right down it till we came to another bit
of road all trod down and full of horse’s tracks; he
took that till we come to where there was two roads;
then he made me ’light and took off the saddle and
hid it in the bushes; then he gave his horse a cut and
sent him galloping up one of the roads while we took
the other and footed it a ways to a bit of woods; then
we crawled through a fence and there we were.”</p>
<p>“What became of the horse?”</p>
<p>“He said somebody would bring him home, and if
they didn’t he would go after him. He’s smart as an
Injun, that dad of mine, if he ain’t much for looks.”
Louisa spoke with some pride and it was evident that
she had determined to make the best of it. “No
body’ll get him,” she repeated. “He must have been
suffering, too, with that head of his, but he never
stopped going, jest trudged along like a soldier. Said
he reckoned your shot kind of knocked him silly
more’n it hurt him. Hero’s safe here and nobody’ll
find any stolen horses on his place even if they should<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>
stop there. ’Tain’t so pretty down there as it is here
and it’s terrible lonely. I reckon I can stand it,
though, when I get used to it. But I am glad to get
back and talk it all over with you.”</p>
<p>“And did you walk all the way back?”</p>
<p>Louisa nodded. “Thought it was best. Just followed
the road. He told me how to get here, a short
cut. It’s about five miles, I reckon. There, I’m
cooled off, I’ll go in and see about dinner.”</p>
<p>“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Christine.
“You’ll just sit there and rest.”</p>
<p>Late in the afternoon Bud and Blythe, with—whom
but Ira Korner?—came slowly up the road. They had
picked up Ira on the way. He had returned home on
a furlough, having been ill, and this was but the second
time he had been out. He kept in the background
till Bud had his say, for on the occasion of his last
visit he had gone off in a little huff.</p>
<p>The men found Louisa in a clean frock and apron
quietly knitting. “Got back, did ye?” was Bud’s
greeting as he came stamping into the gallery. “We
thought we’d meet up with ye. How far did ye go?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I went a piece down the road and then I came
back,” Louisa told him. “There ain’t no use trying
to catch a man on a horse. I’d ought to have taken
Hero and gone after him.”</p>
<p>“So ye might have done—but he’d have got the
better of ye, most likely. A gal, no matter how good<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>
her intentions, ain’t no match fer a full growed man.
Well, we trailed him as far as the bayou and there we
lost him. There was a trail further down and we followed
that to the crossroads, but it turned out to be
a horse of old Cy Sparks that got loose somehow and
must have gone down to get water. Bill Hatchett
caught him and took him back to Cy. Well, I suppose
we’ve seen the last of John’s horses this
trip.”</p>
<p>Louisa knitted on composedly. “Can’t always have
luck,” she remarked.</p>
<p>Bud stumped off to find Christine, and Ira sat down
on a stump near to where Louisa had taken her place
on the step. “Cy Sparks was makin’ all sorts of inquiries
about you the other day,” he said.</p>
<p>“Was he?” Louisa’s hands trembled and she
dropped a stitch.</p>
<p>“Yes, and you said your dad’s name was Cy Sparks,
too.”</p>
<p>“So it was.”</p>
<p>“Names runs in families sometimes. Shouldn’t
wonder if you’d find out he’s kin of yours. He’s a
queer old dick, Cy is. Folks look at him suspicious
and think he’s up to all sorts of tricks, but nobody
ain’t caught him yet, so I say a good bit of it’s talk.
Must have something to talk about, ye know. Where’s
Blythe?”</p>
<p>Louisa jerked her head in the direction of the garden<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>
where Alison stood talking to the young man. “She
don’t appear to see you.”</p>
<p>“Humph! that ain’t surprisin’. He’s studyin’ law.
Nice boy, but he’s awful young.”</p>
<p>“Alison ain’t a Methusalem,” returned Louisa.</p>
<p>“No, she ain’t. Young things jest natchelly like to
flock together when spring comes. What ye makin’,
Louisa?”</p>
<p>“Jest knittin’ stockin’s. I ain’t one to be idle.”</p>
<p>“No, you ain’t. I took notice to that. You don’t
know how many times when I was down there feedin’
on frijoles and jerked beef I thought of your cookin’,
Louisa, and when I took sick, I swan, if I could hev
had somethin’ you had cooked I believe I’d got right
well. I jest y’arned for a plate of your flapjacks an’
I’m a y’arnin’ yet.”</p>
<p>“Stay to supper an’ you shall have ’em,” said Louisa,
rolling up the stocking she was knitting. Bud and
Christine were off to look after something about the
place and Alison was listening to Blythe’s pretty
speeches. He and Neal seemed more like home folks,
though both adopted a certain style of free and easy
speech common to the country. Old Pedro employed
himself close by. He did not mean that his charges
should want the influence of his protecting presence,
and always stood guard like a faithful watch-dog. He
was puzzled at the escape of the prisoner, but Hero
was safe and it was evident that neither Christine nor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>
Alison were disposed to investigate further. Indeed,
there seemed no way of their discovering who had
stolen the other horses since their only chance of doing
so had vanished with the man who had so mysteriously
broken his bonds and fled. Pedro felt, however,
that there should be a closer watch set and that his
young ladies needed a greater vigilance, for what
might they not do after such an attempt at the offensive
as Alison and Louisa had shown?</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII<br>
<small>WHEN IRA WAS “SKEERED”</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">IT was not many days after this that Cyrus Sparks
made an orderly appearance with horse and wagon.
At the time of his arrival Ira Korner and Bud Haley
were present. “Here comes old Cy Sparks,” said Bud.
“What the mischief does he want?”</p>
<p>Ira threw a swift glance at Louisa who had risen to
her feet. “He’s come for me,” the girl exclaimed,
and a moment after wished her words unsaid.</p>
<p>“What ye talking about?” said Ira sharply.</p>
<p>Louisa hesitated. The truth must out before long,
she knew. “He’s my father,” she said simply.</p>
<p>Bud lifted his wooden peg of a leg and brought it
down with a thump. “Whewee!” he exclaimed.
“How did you find that out?”</p>
<p>Louisa saw that she was in for it. “He was over
here the other day,” she said, cudgeling her brains
for a plausible explanation, “and we found it out
then.”</p>
<p>“Thought your father was dead; thought you was
an orphin,” said Ira, speaking as one aggrieved.</p>
<p>“I thought so, too, but he made it plain to me
that it wasn’t so.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>“Deserted your mother, eh?” Ira did not mince
matters.</p>
<p>Louisa felt that she must be on the defensive. “He
didn’t go for to do it. He heard we was both dead
and we heard the same of him. He was wounded, you
know.”</p>
<p>“Wounded,” Ira gave a snort. “When? Where?”</p>
<p>“You needn’t say he wasn’t,” said Louisa, suddenly
aggressive. “It was back there when there was
trouble before with Mexico, and he fit for Texas.”</p>
<p>“I believe he did fight. It appears to me I have
heerd he did,” put in Bud, giving Ira a significant
look. “So, he’s your dad. Well, they say old Cy can
always tell which side his bread is buttered on, and
that he ain’t so po’ly off.”</p>
<p>This encouragement had the effect of producing a
certain warmth of manner in Louisa’s greeting of her
father as he came stiffly up. The red scar on his
forehead was still noticeable when he took off his
hat.</p>
<p>“What ye been doing to yerself, Cy?” said Bud
whose attention was attracted by the scar.</p>
<p>“Oh, nothing much,” returned Cyrus, pulling a
straggling lock over the wound. “Got to foolin’
around in the dark and scraped my blamed head agin
a tree.”</p>
<p>“Oughter had better sense,” said Bud. “They tell
me you’re settin’ up to be a family man.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>“How’d ye hear that?” asked Cyrus quickly.</p>
<p>“Louisa was just tellin’ us.”</p>
<p>“Well now, ain’t I in luck? ’Tain’t every man can
have a smart darter come down from the States to
housekeep for him and he have nothin’ to pay for her
comin’.”</p>
<p>“No, ’tain’t every man lucky enough not to ever
pay out nothin’ fer fetchin’ up his flesh and blood and
after she’s riz up good and respectable to hev the
benefit of what she’s larnt. I should call it nothin’
but bald luck,” said Bud.</p>
<p>“Ye certainly can’t call it nothin’ else,” put in Ira.
“Now if things was to go by deserts ye never would
hev found her out.”</p>
<p>Cyrus looked from one to the other frowning.
Just how much they knew and how much they suspected
he could not discover, but his rôle was that of
the fond father and he was bound to play his part.
“Well, all is, Providence put her in the way of findin’
her dad,” he said pleasantly. “I tell ye, boys, ye’ll
never know a father’s feelings till ye hev darters of
yer own.”</p>
<p>“Providence! Providence!” Ira roared with
laughter. “A gal that kin cook like Louisa kin,
needin’ Providence to put her in the way of an old
shark like Cy Sparks, is a good un.”</p>
<p>“You better go get your things.” Cyrus turned to
Louisa with an air of proprietorship that annoyed Ira,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>
and he followed the girl into the house under pretext
of wanting to speak to Alison.</p>
<p>“Look a-here, Lou,” he said as he overtook her in
the kitchen, “if anything goes wrong I want ye to
feel ye kin call on yer friends. Nobody kin tell in
this world how things is goin’ to turn out and you
may need a friend when ye git away from here; if
ye do, I’m ready to stand by ye. Jest give me half a
chanst and I’ll fight fer ye down to the soles of my
boots. All ye’ve got to do is to send me a stran’ o’
that red ha’r of yourn an’ I’ll come a bilin’.” In such
knightly language did Ira proffer his service to his
lady-love.</p>
<p>Louisa nodded. “All right; I’ll remember.”</p>
<p>Alison, with woebegone face, stood by as Louisa
tied up her bundle. “I hope you won’t have need to
run away,” she said. “But, oh, Lou, I do hate to see
you go.”</p>
<p>“I’ve learned ye a good bit,” said Louisa. “You
can make pretty near as good biscuits as I can and
your flapjacks are hard to beat.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it isn’t your cooking we shall miss so
much as your nice cheerful self,” Alison assured
her.</p>
<p>“Now, ain’t that the truth?” said Ira. “If this
confounded war was over I’d—but, sho! I reckon
ye’ll git along all right. Cyrus may be an ole fox but
he ain’t no wildcat.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>“We’ll come over to see you,” said Christine, who
had joined the others to see Louisa off.</p>
<p>“Yes, we will that,” added Ira, “even if your dad
ain’t so very hearty in his invitations,” for Cyrus spoke
no word.</p>
<p>“Ef Cy Sparks thinks he is going to keep the boys
away from a likely gal like that he’s mightily mistaken,”
said Bud as the wagon drove away. “There
ain’t a boy around here that wouldn’t be glad to see
that red head a-firin’ up his kitchen.”</p>
<p>“You bet,” Ira agreed heartily. “I reckon we’d
better be off, too, Bud. Ain’t hed no word from John,
gals?”</p>
<p>“No, not yet.”</p>
<p>“There’s been fighting,” Ira told them. “They
were hard at it at Palo Alto the last I heerd and I
reckon we was givin’ it to ’em good and hot. It
makes a man feel like he was his own grandmother to
stay at home like I’ve been doin’. I reckon I’ll be
gittin’ off in a day or so.”</p>
<p>It was quite true that at that time the battles of
Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma had been fought.
In the former the American losses were but four men
and three officers killed, and thirty-seven wounded,
while the Mexican’s killed amounted to two hundred,
and their wounded were four hundred. At Resaca de
la Palma the Mexican loss was far greater, being estimated
at a thousand. On May 18th the victorious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>
Americans took possession of Matamoras, driving the
Mexicans from the city. General Taylor next proceeded
to Monterey.</p>
<p>After the departure of Louisa, Pedro’s concern for
his young ladies had the effect of his laying the matter
before Bud Haley.</p>
<p>“Well, it ain’t right for ’em to have no older woman
with ’em. My sister Hannah Maria was sayin’ that
they ought to come over to us, but they do hate to
give up their home here, and I don’t blame ’em,” said
Bud. “Can’t you git a-holt of some decent old Mexican
woman, Pedro?”</p>
<p>Pedro thought he could: one old, but of respectability,
and, though not capable of much work, quite
able to act the part of duenna for the senoritas.</p>
<p>“Produce her,” said Bud. “We’ve got to have this
thing done up right. I’m responsible to John Ross for
his sisters and I ain’t goin’ to have it said that all ain’t
as it should be. As I said, there’s folks enough would
be glad to open their doors to two sech likely gals but
they want to stay here, and here they shall stay if I
kin fix it.”</p>
<p>Therefore, before long, a toothless old Mexican rejoicing
in the name of Sofia appeared at the rancho
under the escort of Bud. “Fetched ye an old lady,”
said he in an off-hand manner. “Guess it’s all right,
ain’t it? Thought now that Lou is gone you’d like to
have somebody else around.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>“Gracious!” exclaimed Alison, looking at the old
woman whom Pedro was helping into the house. “I’m
afraid if she gets any more dried up and a norther
should come along she’ll blow away. What on earth
are we to do with her, Bud? What is she for?”</p>
<p>“Oh, just to set around and look pretty,” replied
Bud, grinning.</p>
<p>“We can do that for ourselves,” said Alison, saucily.
“Do please tell me, Bud, why in the world you
brought her here. She’s too old to work. She certainly
is not ornamental and it has not been my experience
that old crones of her class are specially entertaining.
What’s she for, anyhow?”</p>
<p>“I told ye.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense.”</p>
<p>“Well, ye see, to tell ye the truth, us boys likes to
feel that things is high-toned and stylish on this here
ranch, and we thought if folks could see an old lady
like that settin’ ’round nobody would talk. You an’
Miss Christine is rayther young to run things all by yerselves,
ye see.”</p>
<p>“Oh-h.” Alison understood. “I think, myself, it is
entirely unnecessary, but if our neighbors think we
don’t know how to behave I’m perfectly willing to
wait on the old creature.”</p>
<p>“Dog it all, Miss Alison, you know that’s not the
way to look at it,” said Bud. “Your brother’s away
and you gals ain’t no mother nor nobody, and sence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>
that there caper of yours the other night Pedro’s
oneasy like and thinks you’d ought not to be here by
your loneys. Don’t you see?”</p>
<p>“Pedro is an old goose. He hasn’t American ideas.
However, I’ll speak to Christine and see what she
says.”</p>
<p>On Bud’s explaining the situation to Christine she
agreed to retain the watch-dog, as Alison called her,
and Sofia took up her abode until some better arrangement
could be made. The old creature occupied the
small room below stairs and spent most of her time in
mumbling over her beads and in preparing tortillas, in
which employment she was very expert, turning her
little cakes so rapidly that Alison declared she saved
up all her energies for this one performance.</p>
<p>It was some time after the battles of Palo Alto and
Resaca de la Palma before Ira was well enough to
rejoin his company. Meanwhile, more than once, he
passed by the Rosses to visit the wilder region where
Cy Sparks had his home. Not that he received much
encouragement from Cyrus, rather because of the
contrary. The other lads in the neighborhood also
seemed suddenly to acquire a desire for traveling the
road leading to Cyrus Sparks’s, and the consequence
was that Cyrus found himself obliged to dispense a
greater hospitality than had ever been his wont or his
pleasure. He began to wonder if, after all, he had
made a good bargain in taking to his home this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>
daughter who, instead of helping him to better economies,
only increased his expenditures. Hospitality
of the largest sort was the order of the country.
Louisa’s fame as a cook began to spread abroad, and
it was taken as a matter of course by the young
swains that they would be welcome whenever they
should choose to drop in for a meal at Cy Sparks’s.
Most of them were too obtuse to notice Cyrus’s black
looks and his failure to invite them to come again;
they only perceived Louisa’s smiles and her savory
meals.</p>
<p>“It jes natchelly does me good to see old Cy squirm
when he has to set out a meal fer half a dozen of us,”
said Ira, as he and Bud rode away after a long afternoon
with Louisa. “Nothin’ pleases me better then
to see him riled.”</p>
<p>“He’s a wary old fox,” returned Bud, “and I
wouldn’t put it past him to do any sort of low down
trick about that gal. He’s got a taste of makin’
money, and he don’t stand on the order of gittin’ it.
Betwixt you and me and the gate-post I believe, and
always shall believe, he had somethin’ to do with that
little affair of John’s hosses and I ain’t so dead sure
he didn’t hev somethin’ to do with Steve Hayward’s
disappearance.”</p>
<p>“Sho!” exclaimed Ira. “What started you thinkin’
that?”</p>
<p>“Well ye know thet hoss of Steve’s is a mighty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>
good piece of flesh, as good as you’ll find about here,
and old Pedro was tellin’ me that Hero was in the
bunch of hosses they tried to take that night. They’d
ha’ got him, too, if the gals hadn’t winged their man.
Hero had sense enough to go back to his stable ’stid
o’ follerin’ the other hosses, and I’ve heerd Cy admire
Steve’s hoss more’n once. Ever take notice to thet
scar on Cy’s forehead? Looks mightily like a bullet
wound. I’ve hed my suspicions that Cy was mixed
up in that. The gals wasn’t so hot foot after gettin’
a-holt of the man, and puttin’ this an’ that together——”</p>
<p>“And knowin’ old Cy’s reputation.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir, an’ knowin’ that.”</p>
<p>“Well it ain’t out of reason,” said Ira. “But I
guess for Lou’s sake we better not play detective any
further. What you reckon old Jabe Manypenny’s
doin’ shinin’ ’round Cy’s? ’Pears to me he’s struck up
a mighty suddent friendship there. It made my
dander riz up to see the ole blear-eyed sinner settin’
there gapin’ at Lou.”</p>
<p>“Lou ain’t got no eyes fur him,” said Bud, “not
when some other folks is around, but I reckon ole
Jabe wouldn’t mind some of Lou’s messes bein’ stirred
up in his kitchen. A man’s stummick is a powerful
argymint fer matrimony, I’ve remarked, and old Jabe
ain’t above a weakness that ketches a-holt of the
younger bucks.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>“Humph! I’d like to see Lou stirrin’ up messes in
his kitchin,” said Ira disgustedly. “She’s mos’ too
good fer any of us, but when it comes to a ole yaller-faced
atomy like him I’ll see myself in Jericho before
I’ll step out of his way.”</p>
<p>“Ye’d better be spruntin’ up then,” said Bud, “’er
some other feller’s picter’ll git prominent in her mind
an’ when you git back from the front yer prospecks
fer eatin’ hearty fer the rest of yer life’ll be slimmer’n
what they are now.”</p>
<p>Ira was very silent for some time after this speech.
Like many of the adventurers into Texas, he had little
ambition beyond living a wild free life. A good time
with the boys, a dash out upon an Indian trail, days
of hunting, a fandango with some <i>bonita señorita</i>,
constituted the employments to which he devoted
himself. He had his own land grant, a little cabin
where he stayed long enough in a year to make good
his claim to his property, a couple of horses, his rifle
and a dog, and that was about all he cared to possess.
The idea of settling down to clear land, to acquire
stock and to become a family man had never been
seriously considered. But now with Jabez Manypenny
appearing as a rival all the pugnaciousness in Ira
arose. He would not be beaten. Jabez owned many
acres, a fine lot of stock, a good and roomy house.
He was reputed a rich man, a widower of two years’
standing, and with no nearer relatives than married<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>
sisters somewhere in “the States.” Ira pondered over
the situation. To snatch Louisa from both Cyrus and
Jabez would be a fine stroke. But there was the war
going on, he must join his company, and if he had the
luck to come back unscathed what had he to offer a
girl like Louisa? As he considered the matter her
charms seemed to increase, and his own chances to
decrease. He drew so long a sigh that Bud laughed.</p>
<p>“Ye heave like ole Ben Hoke’s ole hoss,” he said.
“What’s wrong with yer lungs?”</p>
<p>Ira gave voice to a remark in keeping with the
occasion. Then said, “What’s a fool creetur like me
to do? I can’t lay ’round here and play huntin’ dog
to ary ole varmint like Jabe; I’m natchelly obleeged
to go jine the boys.”</p>
<p>“Wel, ain’t ye a purty little feller?” said Bud,
sneeringly. “Ain’t ye got a tongue in yer head?
What’s the matter with yer speakin’ out? I been
a-knowin’ this long time how the land lay. You
shorely air gittin’ weakly all of a suddent. Ye ain’t
afraid o’ painters, ner Injuns, ner bullets. What’s got
ye?”</p>
<p>“No, I ain’t skeered o’ none o’ them things, but
a female woman’s differnt. Painters springs at ye,
Injuns sneaks on ye, bullets comes a whizzin’, but a
female woman jest backs away an’ ye don’t know how
far she’s goin’ ter git. You feels fer yer weepon an’
it ain’t thar. You kin reach down an’ pull a bunch<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>
o’ grass fer a mare, er put yer hand in yer pocket an’
git out a lump o’ sugar fer her, but how ye goin’ ter
tole a female woman?”</p>
<p>“Ye ain’t never done it, I suppose,” said Bud, sarcastically.</p>
<p>“Not this variety,” replied Ira.</p>
<p>Bud threw back his head and gave vent to boisterous
mirth. “Ye’re ketched fer shore, this time, an’
by a red head, too. I ain’t never seen nothin’ to
skeer anybody in Lou Sparks. All ye got ter do is
ter buckle up and throw out yer purtiest talk.”</p>
<p>“Think so?”</p>
<p>“I know so.”</p>
<p>But Ira’s timidity increased with his ardor, and up
to the time of his departure he had spoken not a word
of love to the object of his affections. On the day
that he made his adieux he went so far as to say:
“Ye won’t spring a surprise on us boys an’ go git
married before we come back from the war, will ye,
Louisy?”</p>
<p>“No, indeed,” she answered, emphatically. “I ain’t
goin’ to leave dad yet awhile. I ain’t had him long
enough to do that.”</p>
<p>“Think he needs ye?”</p>
<p>Louisa considered the question. “Well no, not so
much as if I’d always been here, and,” she lowered
her voice, “sometimes I think he’d like to get shet of
me.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>“What makes you say that?”</p>
<p>“He’s always talking of what a good house old
Jabez Manypenny has, and how lucky a girl will be
if she gets him. Sometimes I think——”</p>
<p>“What do ye think?”</p>
<p>“Oh, never mind. I guess I can look after myself.
I’ve done it this good while, and hadn’t kith nor kin
to turn to, so I reckon I can do it a while longer.”</p>
<p>“Till the war’s over?”</p>
<p>“And longer, if it comes to that.”</p>
<p>“Ye won’t fergit about that stran’ o’ ha’r. Ef ye
need a feller to do anythin’ a woman can’t do, I’ll get
to ye somehow. Nothin’ short o’ desertin’ shall stand
in the way.”</p>
<p>“I reckon I won’t need to send my ugly old hair,
but I’m much obliged to you all the same.”</p>
<p>“Well, good-bye and good luck to you.”</p>
<p>“The same to you.” And they parted.</p>
<p>If Ira regretted his lack of courage in failing to be
more outspoken, he did not show it, but rode away
with a soldierly bearing which was Louisa’s admiration,
and which made her more determined than ever
to look to her own affairs, allowing no interference.</p>
<p>However, within the next few weeks this grew more
and more difficult, for Jabez Manypenny made known
his intentions and openly declared his desire to transfer
Louisa to his own home. “Got a nice place,” he
told her, “a heap better than this un where yer father<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>
keeps ye, and I’ve two or three niggers, too, to do the
work fer ye, though there ain’t one among ’em can
come up to you in cookin’ wittles.”</p>
<p>“My father’s place suits me well enough,” replied
Louisa, “an’ I’m able to work for myself and him, too.
I don’t want no niggers to wait on me, lazy triflin’
things, that give ye more trouble than they’re worth.”
Jabez’ offer had no attractions for her. She felt it no
advantage simply to exchange one old man for another,
and saw little choice between the two, beyond
the fact that her father possessed the claims of natural
affection. She told him of the offer, adding, “I don’t
want that old bag o’ bones. I’m in no hurry to leave
you, dad.”</p>
<p>“’Course not,” he replied. “What’s the use of my
giving ye up jest as I’ve got ye, onless it was wuth
my while. If old Jabe comes ’round me I’ll tell him
he ain’t goin’ to git my gal jest fer the astin’.”</p>
<p>Yet he pondered over the question. If he gave up
Louisa it should be to some one who would make it an
exchange to his advantage. He was not sure but that
he could turn a pretty penny in the transaction. Just
how, he could not at once decide, but it would surely
be a queer thing, in that country where women were
at a premium, if he could not dispose of his daughter’s
hand to his own betterment, a girl whose accomplishments
were such as appealed to every householder in
the county.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>He had been living very quietly since Louisa’s sojourn
with him. He had been compelled to do this,
he reflected, for she was too straightforward and
honest to approve of any shady transactions, and, once
he aroused her suspicions in any of his dealings, she
would be direct enough, not only to charge him with
them, but to report them. Yet this virtuous existence
was growing monotonous. He was not sure but that
he preferred the uncertainty of a reckless life with no
one to answer to; there was at least excitement in it,
and greater profits, if there were greater risks. The
novelty of possessing a daughter was wearing off
and the difficulties were beginning to present themselves.
Marry her to the highest bidder and he could
renew his old life and settle her future. And this was
the way matters stood during that summer which saw
Ira and Neal and John with the Texas Rangers, doing
duty, while Jabez Manypenny paid court to Louisa
and feared no rival.</p>
<p>One-legged Bud Haley kept Christine and Alison
informed as to the movements in the neighborhood.
As an enforced stay-at-home he performed a sort of
detective service for the settlement, and little escaped
his vigilant eye. Louisa’s affairs were of particular interest
to him, since she had been a member of the Ross
household and what concerned John Ross concerned
Bud, who was under more than one obligation to his
friend and nearest neighbor. Bud, likewise, championed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>
Ira Korner’s cause and was indignant that
Jabez Manypenny should receive the smallest attention
at the hands of Louisa.</p>
<p>“’Tain’t fa’r,” he said to Alison. “Iry he’s off to
the wars, an’ old Cy’s beginnin’ to nag Lou. Fust
thing ye know the gal will be druv to takin’ Jabe jest
to git rid of Cy. He’s a sly ole shark, is Cy, and I
reckon he thinks ole Jabe ain’t got sich a ter’ble holt
on life, an’ if he leaves Lou a well-to-do widder Cy
kin step in an’ git all the profits. Fer my part, I
don’t see what a ole man like thet’s going ter do with
money; he kain’t more’n eat so much an’ he kain’t live
in more’n one house, an’ he kain’t w’ar more clothes
than he kin carry, but Cy has got a eetchin’ palm, as
the sayin’ is, and they ain’t nothin’ he wouldn’t do fer
money. He’d pick the eyes outen a blind mewl if he
could sell ’em, an’ he’d chase a skeeter over a ten mile
swamp fer its hide an’ taller. I’ve thought sometimes
he kinder favored Pike Smith, but I don’t know. I’ve
always heerd that him an’ Pike was in cohoots somehow,
and Pike’s been a settin’ up ter Louisa, so I don’t
know as Pike won’t git her if Jabe don’t, that is, if
Cy has his way.”</p>
<p>“He won’t have his way,” declared Alison; “I’ll
answer for that. Lou has a mind of her own and
she’ll outwit her father, if she doesn’t come out and
oppose him to his face. She likes Ira, and unless Cy
uses foul means she’ll be faithful to him.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>“But there’s the foul means to be considered,” said
Bud reflectively. “She’d oughter be warned ter look
out fer snags.”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell her myself,” said Alison. “I was thinking
of riding over there this very afternoon. I can take
Hero.”</p>
<p>“Better not. Take yer pony.”</p>
<p>“Why not Hero?”</p>
<p>“Cy’s too fond of hoss flesh, an’ when you come to
git yer hoss ye might find he’d got loose or somethin’.
Take yer little pony and keep an eye on him. Ye’d
better not make it too late comin’ home, neither.”</p>
<p>“All right,” agreed Alison. “I’m not afraid, but
since you’re so cautious I’ll start right along, and if
I’m not back by dark you can be on the lookout for
me.”</p>
<p>“Jest sound Louisa and see how the land lays.
Hanner Maria was tellin’ me that Jabe’s been havin’
some whitewashin’ done, an’ thet looks purty serious.”</p>
<p>Hannah Maria was Bud’s elder sister who was an
efficient aid to her brother in his capacity as news-gatherer,
and what Hannah Maria Haley said was
generally taken as credible information. Neal Jordan
called her the “Texas Gazette.” She was not a malevolent
gossip; on the contrary she was always on the
outlook for news of a cheerful character, and was an
ardent advocate of truth, a defender of the unfortunate,
a consoler of the unhappy. Her unfailing good<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>
heart and large sympathy made her a general favorite,
though she was “as homely as a mud fence” Ira said.</p>
<p>“If Hannah Maria says Jabez has been whitewashing,
it must be so,” was Alison’s comment, “and the
sooner we look after Miss Louisa Sparks the better.”</p>
<p>“That’s so,” returned Bud. “You kain’t tell what
a girl’ll do jest fer spite sometimes.”</p>
<p>“What spite?”</p>
<p>“Well, Iry he’s the contrariest feller I ever see.
He’d walk up to a cannon’s mouth as easy as git out,
but when it comes to facin’ a ‘No’ from Lou Sparks
he’s ready to run. Kain’t no other kin’ o’ sparks
skeer him, but that red head o’ hern knocks his wits
outen him. Mebbe you could sorter let Lou understand
thet fac’; a gal kin do them things when a man
kain’t.”</p>
<p>“All right,” said Alison. “I’ll see what I can do.”</p>
<p>“I’ll fetch yer crittur up fer ye,” said Bud. And
Alison entered the house to make ready for her ride.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII<br>
<small>ANOTHER ADVENTURE FOR ALISON</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">TURNING her little pony’s head down the road,
Alison cantered in the direction of Cyrus Sparks’s
cabin. It was rather a lonely ride, but she had taken
it several times, knew the way perfectly, and felt no
fear. Part of the road led over the prairie, but beyond
this was a bit of woodland, and further off the road
branched; the turning to the left leading to Cyrus
Sparks’s. Though she had not long been riding her
pony Alison had every confidence in the little beast
and was growing fond of him, although at first she
had declared that Chico could never supersede Hero
in her affections. Since Christine, however, had
established a tacit right to Hero, Alison thought she
must be provided with something to ride or else stay
at home, so Chico had been found for her by Pedro,
approved of by Bud, and she was now his proud possessor.</p>
<p>Having reached the cabin Alison dismounted,
hitched her pony to the fence, and entered the house
without ceremony. She had seen Cyrus out in the
hog-yard and knew he was not within. But she did
not expect to find herself face to face with the unwelcome<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>
countenance of Pike Smith, who sat glowering
in one corner. Alison had always been repelled by
this silent individual who paid her sparse courtesy at
the best of times, and who now did not move from his
chair, nor give her more of a greeting than a grunt
and a nod.</p>
<p>“Where is Louisa?” asked Alison, pausing on the
door-sill.</p>
<p>Pike jerked his thumb in the direction of the lean-to
and Alison, without further words, passed through the
room and on to the kitchen in the rear. Here she
found Louisa, red of face and brisk of movement,
beating eggs.</p>
<p>“Why Allie Ross,” she exclaimed, dropping her
beater and extending her hand. “I surely am glad to
see you. Set down. I’ll hev this cake in the oven
before you can turn around and then I’ve a power of
talk to get rid of. The good Marster must have sent
you here to-day.”</p>
<p>“Why?” asked Alison, as she sat down on the
rough bench and watched Louisa deftly mix her ingredients
together.</p>
<p>“Oh, there are lots of whys. I’ll tell you in a minute.
Pike Smith still in there?” she asked in an undertone.</p>
<p>Alison nodded yes.</p>
<p>Louisa made a contemptuous mouth. “Wish he’d
git out,” she continued, still in a low voice, stirring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>
her batter vigorously and then slipping the yellow,
smooth mixture into the pan.</p>
<p>“I thought you must be making the cake specially
on his account,” said Alison with a little laugh.</p>
<p>Louisa cast her a scornful glance. “You know better
than that. He thinks, and they all think, I’m
plum crazy to want anything but corn-bread and fry.
I tell dad if I tend to the chickens, and if he can’t buy
me a little flour and sugar once in a while I’ll go
where I can get it easier. I ain’t seen any decent
butter sence I came down here except what I make
myself. I never did see people so easy pleased.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure we never get any good butter any more,”
complained Alison. “Christine was saying the other
day that we’d have to learn to make it if you would
show us how. Nobody about here knows what real
butter is.”</p>
<p>“I’ll show you and welcome. Let’s go outside; it’s
getting hot as Tophet in this kitchen.”</p>
<p>They established themselves comfortably on a log
by the door, and Alison immediately began her questioning.
“Why did you say I was specially sent to
you to-day?”</p>
<p>“Oh, things ain’t going the way I like.”</p>
<p>“Better come back to us.”</p>
<p>“Wish I could, but somehow I’ve got the feeling
that I ought to stick to dad right or wrong.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think so at all, if you are not happy here.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>“He’s all I’ve got and I’m all he’s got. He’s told
me a lot of things about old days, same that mother
used to talk about, and I know he belongs to me all
right, though he does seem powerful anxious to get me
married.”</p>
<p>“He does?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and what’s more he wants to pick out my
man for me. Says I’ve got to take either Pike or old
Jabe Manypenny.”</p>
<p>“I can understand why he might want you to marry
old Jabez Manypenny, for he’s rich, but I can’t see
why he should pick out Pike when he’s about the
most disagreeable, glum looking wretch that I ever
saw. I can’t bear him. I’d rather you’d marry
Jabez, old as he is. Goodness knows there are enough
hard characters down here in Texas, and sometimes I
think every other man must be an escaped criminal,
but of them all I do think Pike is about the worst. I
can’t imagine what your father sees in him.”</p>
<p>“That’s just what I can’t see. They’re mighty
thick, and dad always treats him as polite as a lord,
like he wanted to keep on the good side of him. Says
I mustn’t judge by appearances, and if I keer anything
fer him I’ll be a dutiful darter and marry to suit
him.”</p>
<p>“Well I must say I don’t envy you a father, if that’s
the way they do. I’m glad I’ve no one to bother me
about such things.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>“How about that young feller I hear comes shinin’
’round you, that Blythe Van Dorn?”</p>
<p>“Oh, he’s only a boy. He has said some soft things
to me, but I just laugh at him. I did have a proposal,
though, my first, and you’ll never guess who it was.”
She laughed gleefully.</p>
<p>“Not Van Dorn?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Bud?”</p>
<p>“Bud, indeed. No, of course not. I wouldn’t
marry a one-legged man, would you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. It would depend upon how he lost
his leg. Suppose your brother John came home with
but one leg, wouldn’t you think him still good enough
for any girl?”</p>
<p>“That I would. I see the difference lies in who
the man happens to be. As it happens my suitor
has both his legs, such as they are, but he is not so
young as John.”</p>
<p>“I can’t think who it can be. Tell me, Alison.”</p>
<p>“Old Billy Jones.” Alison’s laughter rang out
merrily.</p>
<p>“That old goose, with daughters twice your age.”</p>
<p>“He’s no older than our friend Manypenny.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but Jabez has no family.”</p>
<p>“Can’t you imagine Sally Jones calling me
mamma?” Louisa joined in the burst of laughter, for
old Billy Jones had sought a wife in the family of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>
nearly every newcomer who chanced to have marriageable
daughters. His own daughter, Sally, was a
perfect virago and ruled her father with a rod of iron,
but Billy was soft-hearted, and had a special fancy for
the very young girls, whom he courted in turn, being
nothing discouraged when one after another refused
him.</p>
<p>“We’re not getting on at all with your story,” said
Alison, when the laugh had subsided.</p>
<p>“Wait till I look at my cake and then I’ll tell you
more.” The cake being in a satisfactory state Louisa
returned and began: “Well, you see dad says he
wants to see me settled, says he has only a fatherly
interest in seeing me in a home of my own, that he
ain’t so young as he might be and it’s my duty to be
obedient to my only parent and all that.”</p>
<p>“But though good men may be scarce, surely there
are enough of them who would be glad to marry you
without his settling on Jabez and Pike. Now there
is Ira, Lou. When he comes back——”</p>
<p>Louisa turned her head away and began to braid
three long blades of grass together. “Yes, I know,”
she said in a low tone, “and I promised if I ever
needed a friend I’d send him word. Dad has been
pushing me closter and closter agen the wall. I do
need a friend. I can’t tell you all, Alison, but there’s
things going on that it needs a man to settle. Dad
doesn’t mean me to think so, but he really keeps me a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>
prisoner, watches me so I don’t go off the place without
him or Pike follerin’ me, and I ain’t a-going to
stand it.”</p>
<p>“And what will you do? Oh, Louisa, I am sorry
you ever left us.”</p>
<p>“So am I, to tell you the truth, but there’s no help
for it now. Here I am. I’m his flesh and blood and
I don’t mean to be disobedient out and out, though I’ll
find a way to outwit him if he tries any underhanded
game on me. He is as sly as a fox and he’ll find I can
be sly, too.”</p>
<p>“Is there anything I can do to help you? Shall I
tell Bud or anybody?”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t need that. He don’t treat me cruel or
nothing. All he wants is to make me do as he
chooses.”</p>
<p>“Then will you write to Ira? I know he would lay
down his life for you, Louisa, though he is afraid of
you. He is not afraid of anything else, and he’d do
anything you asked him.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I believe that. I reckon I understand Ira.
He wanted me to send him a stran’ of my old red hair
if I was in trouble and if you get that to him I’ll try
to stave off dad for awhile. I ain’t fond of writin’
and somehow I’d rather not send none nohow. Anyway
a clip of ha’r couldn’t git nobody into
trouble.”</p>
<p>“Into trouble? How could it?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>“I say it couldn’t. Where’s your horse? Did you
come on Hero?”</p>
<p>“No, Chico brought me. I fastened him out
front.”</p>
<p>“Better bring him around here and water him before
you go.”</p>
<p>“So I will. I promised Bud I’d be back early. He
didn’t quite approve of my riding around the country
by myself anyhow, but I told him I’d be safe enough
coming here.”</p>
<p>“Well, I reckon you are. I hope so. He’s right,
though, about your not staying out late. The days
aren’t as long as they were. I’d like to keep you, or,
better still, I’d like to go back with you. Miss Tina
well?”</p>
<p>“Yes, though I can see she grows more and more
quiet and indifferent. Oh, if Steve would but come
back. Louisa, has your father ever said anything
more about his having a right to Hero?”</p>
<p>“No.” Louisa made her monosyllabic answer, then
went into the house hastily with the excuse that her
cake needed attention.</p>
<p>A little later Alison set forth on her return journey.
She carried a long shining strand of Louisa’s hair
which she had playfully braided with some pampas
grass and twisted around her hat. “It won’t get
tangled that way,” she said. With a wave of the
hand she disappeared from Louisa’s eyes, not the only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>
ones watching, for Pike Smith stood sullenly looking
after her.</p>
<p>The summer was on the wane and the days were
shortening perceptibly. Alison urged on her little
mustang as she approached the road through the
woods. It was here alone that she felt any timidity.
There were many possible dangers lurking in the silent
forest. Suppose a wildcat should suddenly spring
upon her, or a Mexican lion. Suppose some band of
wandering Indians should be prowling about in search
of booty, or, if not Indians, some of those lawless
freebooters who haunted lonely places, and who, seeing
a damsel thus alone and unprotected, might attack
her and carry her off.</p>
<p>“Faster, Chico, faster,” she whispered, and Chico’s
short legs fairly twinkled along. But they were not
swift enough to prevent the steady gain of a powerful
horse, the thud of whose hoof-beats was now plainly
perceptible. Some one was coming. Was it friend or
foe? A great terror seized the girl, bending forward
in her saddle and urging on her little pony who,
though he responded to the best of his ability, could
not cover the ground with the same speed as the approaching
steed. Alison gave a frightened look behind
her and the next moment a man snatched at her bridle.</p>
<p>“Here, girl, get off,” said a stern voice, and, looking
up, Alison saw Pike Smith’s lowering face above
her.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>“Why should I get off?” she asked pluckily, though
her heart beat fast.</p>
<p>“Because I say so.”</p>
<p>“Suppose I won’t do it.”</p>
<p>“Then I’ll make ye.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare to do such a thing. I defy you,
Pike Smith. You had better let me go, and that
quickly. Bud Haley and some others will be coming
to meet me in a minute and it will be the worse for
you.”</p>
<p>For answer Pike growled something unintelligible,
swung his horse around, and, still holding Alison’s
bridle, went crashing through the bushes forcing Chico
along with him, the girl bravely keeping her seat, and
avoiding the low branches and thorny twigs as best
she could. Once she attempted to make an outcry
but Pike turned threateningly on her. “None o’ that
or I’ll stop your sassy mouth for good and all,” he
said savagely.</p>
<p>Full of mortal fear Alison could only keep silence
and cling to her horse desperately. A half hour’s
ride brought them to a lonely little hut. Here Pike
dismounted, curtly ordered the girl to get down, and,
keeping an eye upon her, approached the hut.
“Brigida,” he called. A shuffling, blear-eyed old
woman came out. Pike addressed a few words of
Spanish to her, then lifted Alison from her horse, set
her within the hut and closed the door.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>Divided between fear and anger Alison wondered
what would happen next. She was not long kept in
suspense, for the woman began carefully to search her,
examining every article of clothing, even to her shoes
and stockings. The twist of hair mingled with the
braid of grass around her hat attracted no notice. It
meant nothing to Brigida; she was searching for a
bit of paper.</p>
<p>The search being concluded the old woman made
her report and Pike entered the room. “Well, I
hope you are satisfied,” said Alison, nothing daunted
by these investigations. “Will you please tell me
what this is all about? Do you suspect me of being
a spy and of carrying despatches for the Mexican
government? Or what is it you are looking for?”</p>
<p>“What I want is that letter Lou give ye,” said
Pike, bluntly. “Ye can’t deny she give ye one. She’s
as sly as her old dad, but they can’t neither of them
pull the wool over my eyes. I ain’t to be made a fool
of by none of that lay-out. The gal’s promised to me
and I’ll have her sendin’ no word to other men. You
can’t swear she didn’t give you a bit of writin’.”</p>
<p>“She did nothing of the kind. You are very far off
the track, Mr. Pike Smith, and I’ll thank you to conduct
me safely home.”</p>
<p>“And a purty hue an’ cry ye’ll raise when ye git
thar.”</p>
<p>“Naturally.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>“Then ye don’t go. I’ve more’n one grudge agin
ye. It was you hit old man Sparks, wan’t it?”</p>
<p>“How do you know unless you were there?” Alison
was quick to draw her conclusions.</p>
<p>Pike saw his mistake. “Old Cy tol’ me so hisse’f,”
he replied.</p>
<p>“Why did he? He was anxious enough to keep the
matter quiet and unless you were in cohoots with him
he never would have told it. I suppose you were one
of the men who got away, and if so what have you
done with my brother’s horses? I always suspected
you were some kind of rascal.”</p>
<p>The man approached her with clenched fist, but
Alison slipped behind a table and drew forth the
pistol she always carried. “I’ll blow out your brains
if you touch me,” she cried.</p>
<p>“Two kin play at that game,” said Pike, whipping
out his own pistol. “It’s a duel, is it?”</p>
<p>“What a fine, brave, manly person you must be to
want to fight a girl who has never done you any harm,
who has been on no wrong errand,” cried Alison.
“Why do you want to stain your soul with my blood?
Will it make you any worthier of Louisa that you
murder her best friend?”</p>
<p>Pike lowered his pistol with a short laugh. “I only
wanted to skeer ye. Ef ye promise ter say nothin’ of
this to nobody and not ever mention that other time
ye was jest talkin’ about, I’ll not harm ye this time.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>It was decidedly an occasion when discretion was
the better part of valor, and Alison gave the promise.
Pike without another word stalked out, leaving the
girl alone with the old woman. Presently the sound
of his horse crashing through the chaparral told them
he had gone. Alison seized the old woman’s hands.
“I am safe,” she cried, “but I do not know my way
home.” She ran to the door, half expecting to find
Chico gone, but there he stood nibbling at the bushes.
She waited a moment to be sure that Pike had really
departed, then she mounted her horse without protest
from the woman, whom she bade adieu with a feeling
of thankfulness.</p>
<p>It had grown much darker and there was no road,
only straggling paths hard to discern. In what she
believed to be the right direction Alison turned, her
little horse gallantly making his way through the
difficulties of an unbroken road. After a while, when
the girl felt that they had traveled long enough to
have reached the main road, poor though it actually
was, there was still no evidence of it, but afar off she
saw a light, and made towards it. To be sure, it
might be out of the frying-pan into the fire she reflected,
and she might be walking directly into a den
of thieves; but on the other hand night was coming
on, there were prowling beasts to fear and she was
willing to take her chances. She drew nearer and
nearer to the light and presently she saw it came from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>
a camp-fire, and that around it were several figures.
She went a few paces further and listened, hoping to
gain some idea of what manner of persons these were.
While she waited, half fearing to make her presence
known, a woman’s voice arose, singing shrilly: “How
firm a foundation,” and emphasizing the words as she
moved about. A great sense of relief swept over the
girl who, without further hesitation, rode into the
small encampment. A large white-covered wagon
stood at a short distance; some men were gathering
wood to feed the fire, a woman with frying-pan in
hand was preparing the evening meal, two or three
little children at her heels. At the sudden apparition
of a girl riding out of the depths of the wood the
woman gave a startled exclamation. “La, where did
you come from?” she asked. “We didn’t think there
was a house within miles.”</p>
<p>“Maybe there isn’t,” said Alison. “I’ve lost my
way. Can you tell me if I am near the road to
Denton?”</p>
<p>“It’s the road we come over. We passed through
Denton this morning,” one of the men told her. “You
belong to these parts?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and I should know my way better, shouldn’t
I? It’s lucky I came upon you all, or I might have
traveled around all night. Are you going much
further?”</p>
<p>“A matter of thirty mile or so.”</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="p138">
<img class="w100" src="images/p138.jpg" alt="THE WOMAN GAVE A STARTLED EXCLAMATION">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">“THE WOMAN GAVE A STARTLED EXCLAMATION.”</p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>“And glad enough I shall be to get there. It’s
weary traveling all this way from the States,” said
the woman. “I reckon you find it pretty lonesome
down here, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Not so very. I am used to the country and I am
with friends. Besides we don’t live very far from
Denton, just on the edge of it, you might say, though
the store is three miles away. There are two or three
ranchos between us and the village but we can see
the houses quite plainly and that makes it seem less
lonely.”</p>
<p>“I wish we were going to be that near somebody,”
said the woman.</p>
<p>“Oh, it won’t be long before we have neighbors,”
said the man, cheerfully. “It’s fillin’ up fast down
this way. Fine country, miss.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it is so,” said Alison.</p>
<p>“Won’t you light and take supper with us?” said
the woman. “It don’t seem to me like you ought to
go on alone; you’d better get down and stay here
with us till morning.”</p>
<p>“Oh, thank you,” said Alison, “but I must go on.
My sister will be worried to death if I don’t get
home.”</p>
<p>She bade them farewell and, once on the road, put
her little mustang at his best paces. She felt herself
lucky to have struck the right way and to have the
knowledge that there was a friendly company between<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>
her and the stretches of forest beyond the turn. Realizing
that he was on the homeward path Chico cantered
along bravely, and in a short time the twinkling
lights of the first house appeared across the stretch of
prairie. At the edge of the woods a horseman came
dashing towards the girl. “Hallo!” came the shout.
“That you, Alison Ross?”</p>
<p>Alison rode forward. “That’s just who it is,” she
said. “Is that you, Bud Haley?”</p>
<p>“I’m the feller,” he replied, making his way towards
her. “You’ve give me a purty scare. What happened
to ye?”</p>
<p>“I got lost,” replied Alison, with a confused laugh.
“At least I heard something behind me and I got
scared and didn’t keep the road.”</p>
<p>“Humph! I reckon you’ll either stay at home after
this or hev a man’s company when you’re goin’ this
fur. Miss Christine’ll be scared to death about ye.
She’s there alone, ’ceptin’ Pedro and his gal. Ole
Sofia got tired of her job and has went home. It
’pears to me like you and Miss Tina better bundle up
and come over to our house till your brother gits back.
I ain’t easy one minute about ye.”</p>
<p>“That’s too bad,” said Alison with compunction.
“We have no business keeping you worried about us.
I only wish John would come home.”</p>
<p>“Well, you know you’d be as welcome as flowers in
May. Hanner M’ri was sayin’ so this very day. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>
reckon we’ll hev to talk that plan over with Miss
Tina. See Lou?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and her father isn’t making things any too
easy for her. He keeps her close and says she’s got to
marry either Jabez Manypenny or Pike Smith.”</p>
<p>“The blamed old ijit!” ejaculated Bud. “Ain’t he
got no more sense than to hand his darter over to an
ornery rascal like Pike? Bet he swops her fer a hoss.
Pike’s got some sort of holt on Cy and he’s skeered of
him. Why, I’d sooner see old Jabe git Lou; he’s close
but he ain’t ter say cruel and Pike, well I wouldn’t let
my orneries’ ole mewl git into Pike’s hands, not if I
could help it. We’ve got to try an’ git Lou out of this
mess. Why didn’t that fool Iry git her landed safe
before he lit out, thet’s what I can’t see.”</p>
<p>“I have something that Lou wants to send to Ira,”
said Alison.</p>
<p>“You hev? Well, I’ll see that it gits started good
an’ airly. I ain’t goin’ to hev you goin’ over there
ag’in onless me, or Blythe, or some of us boys goes
with ye. Meanwhile we’ll keep our eyes open; I
don’t want no second skeer like you give me this
evenin’.”</p>
<p>Christine was nervously watching for her sister
when she appeared. “Brought her back safe an’
sound,” said Bud. “We ain’t goin’ to let her git out
of our sight agin, no siree. She’s too precious to git
lost. Got somethin’ to talk to you about to-morrer,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>
Miss Tina.” So saying he rode away with Chico in
charge.</p>
<p>“What did happen to keep you so late, Alison?”
asked her sister.</p>
<p>Alison looked around to be sure Bud was out of
hearing. “I had an adventure,” she said. “Some
one followed me, a man, and I was scared to death;
that’s why I got off the road. I found the way back
by a mere chance, for I came across a party of emigrants
camping in the woods and they put me right.
Don’t tell Bud about it.”</p>
<p>“Why not? I think he ought to know. Was the
man any one you ever saw before?”</p>
<p>“I hope I shall never see him again,” said Alison
fervently. “Oh, Tina, poor Lou is just the same as a
prisoner. Her father is badgering her to death to
marry old Jabez or Pike Smith, and he doesn’t let her
off the place.”</p>
<p>“Pike Smith? That evil-looking man?” In this
new piece of gossip Christine did not notice that her
sister had skilfully turned the subject.</p>
<p>“He is evil-looking, and I can’t bear him. I’d
rather see Lou dead than his wife. I told Bud about
it, and, Tina, I have a lock of Lou’s hair to send to Ira.
You may know things are in a pretty desperate case
when she summons him. If the boys were all at home
they’d soon settle matters for Cy Sparks; you know
John wouldn’t let him abuse Lou.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>“He doesn’t really abuse her, does he?”</p>
<p>“No, he doesn’t bodily ill-treat her. He pretends he
is very fond of her, but she can’t stir out of his sight,
or if he is not there Pike Smith is.”</p>
<p>“Did you see Pike Smith?”</p>
<p>“I should think I did. What’s this, Tina, about
Sofia?”</p>
<p>“She’s gone. She went off this afternoon, was
tired of it here, said it was too lonely for an old
woman who had always lived near her own kin. I
believe she has a sister somewhere and a lot of nieces
and nephews.”</p>
<p>“Well, I am sure they are welcome to her,” returned
Alison, beginning to lay the table for supper.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX<br>
<small>WITH HANNAH MARIA</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap2">ABOUT this time the report of a civil revolution
in Mexico was confirmed. Paredes, the erstwhile
president, had been made prisoner and Gomez
Farias declared president. The one-time favorite,
Santa Anna, was recalled by his fickle people to be
placed at the head of the army. On the 20th of September
began the battle of Monterey, which lasted
three days and resulted in victory to the Americans.
In spite of this fact Ampudia still blustered and Santa
Anna, still arrogant and confident, refused to consider
overtures for peace. After the fall of Monterey an
armistice of eight weeks was declared and for a time
all was quiet. This war of invasion, so far from being
looked upon as a disaster by the Mexican non-combatants,
appears to have been regarded as bringing about
rather a desirable condition of affairs. Good prices
and “spot cash” obtained in the towns taken, the people
were kindly treated, and prosperity seemed the
order of the day wherever the Americans entered.
No wonder they were welcomed and treated as friends,
rather than foes, by a large portion of the inhabitants.
To be sure the inflammatory bulletins issued by the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>
Mexican generals served to rouse many to a pitch of
animosity, and by a certain class the Americans were
considered as “barbaric northern invaders.” So bitter,
indeed were this latter class that even the women
were ready to join in battle, and it is told that at
Monterey a company of Lancers were led by a woman
who swore she would never yield till the last Americano
should be driven from the land.</p>
<p>All these pieces of news interested Christine and
Alison greatly. For some time they had been established
under the roof of Bud and Hannah Maria
Haley, it being the universal opinion that two young
girls ought not to remain in their house alone with no
other protector than old Pedro, who, because of his
being a Mexican, was not regarded in high esteem, and
who, at his best, was not a vigorous fighter.</p>
<p>Accustomed to cleanliness and a well-ordered household,
both Christine and Alison had long held out
against the suggestion that they should go to the
Haleys’, for a slip-shod, down-at-heel condition, such
as often obtained in Texas, characterized the place
which Bud called his. Two or three negroes served to
perform all the labor Bud required. For about one
month in the year he devoted himself to his stock,
driving his cattle into the pen, marking the calves
after they were roped in, and so on. But this performance
was generally made the occasion of a frolic,
the neighbors flocking to the different ranchos and assisting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>
one another when spring brought around this
duty. Bud raised a little corn, a little cotton, no more
than it pleased him to look after, and enough hogs to
supply the family with all the pork they wanted. The
house required little attention from Hannah Maria,
one negro woman doing the work in her own fashion.
The daily fare of corn-bread, bacon and muddy coffee
was supplemented infrequently by sweet potatoes, a
little milk and poor butter, a bill of fare not requiring
great skill in its preparation, and a very different sort
of diet from that considered necessary by the Rosses.
Alison especially rebelled against it, and declared to
Christine that she would rather eat Lolita’s frijoles
and tortillas.</p>
<p>“I get so desperately tired of it all,” she said.
“Pone and fry and coffee, coffee and fry and pone.
Nowhere to sleep but in the room where we can see
the sky through the rafters. Nothing to do but to
listen to Hannah Maria’s incessant chatter. It may
amuse you, Tina, to talk to her and to Cynthia
Thompson and Laura Van Dorn, when they come in,
but as for me I get tired of them. I enjoy Lolita
much more. She is really entertaining and far more
lovable. Besides we teach each other many things.”
So off Alison would go to spend the morning with
Lolita, while Christine would turn her attention to
whatever she could find to occupy her. The place
was not very attractive, she was forced to agree with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>
Alison, and though she expostulated with her sister
upon her frequent abscondings, she did not blame the
girl.</p>
<p>The house certainly had no claim to either comfort
or beauty. The main room, about twenty feet square,
served as living-room, bedroom and dining-room.
The kitchen, a small log structure, stood some yards
to the rear of the house. The family table-ware, the
stock of groceries and all wearing apparel found place
in the living-room. A great canopy bed, which both
Christine and Alison shared with Hannah Maria, filled
a large space in one corner, a table stood in the middle
of the floor, several chairs seated with untanned deer-skin
were pushed against the wall haphazard; over the
mantelpiece hung a rifle, powder-horn, and pouches;
a bureau held its place as general receptacle for anything
which could not be poked away elsewhere. A
Bible occupied one end of the mantel; on the other
end was a Connecticut clock supporting a card to
which was pinned a flashy breastpin. On state occasions,
such as funerals and weddings, Hannah Maria
wore the pin.</p>
<p>It was not the home of elegance, but there was easy
content and rough kindliness of the truest sort. If
both Christine and Alison had elected to spend the remainder
of their mortal existences under Bud’s roof,
they would have been as cordially welcome as if they
were members of the family. Indeed, it was because<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>
any other arrangement would have given offense that
they were obliged to accept this ready hospitality.
Fortunately it was mild weather, and, unless a norther
drove every one within doors to seek the fire, the gallery
was the gathering place for all, and here, on a
pallet, Bud was wont to sleep in summer. The Haleys’,
being the centre of neighborhood news, was
seldom passed by those going up or down the road,
and the gallery was usually occupied by half a dozen
persons during the greater part of the day, for even if
Hannah Maria had gone forth on some charitable errand,
incidental to gathering news, Bud would be at
home; or if Bud were away Hannah Maria would be
found surrounded by the hounds and shooing off
chickens from her untidy flower-beds, but ready to
smile a welcome to whomever should ride up.</p>
<p>The lock of hair had been sent by a safe hand to
Ira, and every day some of the boys managed to bring
a report of Louisa. “Old Cy has some scheme in his
head,” Bud told the girls. “I don’t know jest what.
I think he’d send Pike about his business if he dared.
As for Jabe he’s easier managed; he wants Lou, but
he’s divided between his desire for her and his love of
his money-bags, so he’ll only come up to the scratch
when it’s now or never.”</p>
<p>Hannah Maria, softly plump and comfortable,
nodded approvingly from her rocking-chair. She
considered that Bud was a person of marked perspicuity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>
and his opinions those of great weight. She
was a great lover of the romantic and was continually
seeking out sentimental motives. Christine’s sad little
story interested her deeply and she would talk for
hours upon the possibility of Steve’s return. It must
be said that her cheerful optimism was a good thing
for Christine who, from constant brooding and from
being much alone, was in danger of becoming morbid.
Alison was a very much less interesting companion to
Hannah Maria, for Alison laughed at her sentimentalities,
refused to talk of love affairs, and though Hannah
Maria declared it was unnatural in a girl nearly seventeen
to fight shy of love-making, Alison insisted that
she was not yet ready for anything of the kind.</p>
<p>“The very idear of it,” said Hannah Maria, as
Alison vanished from the house one day. “I never
see a young gal so sot agin love stories.”</p>
<p>Christine smiled. “She isn’t so indifferent as she
seems. She thinks a lot about such things, but they
are all imaginary ones so far. She hasn’t met her
knight yet.”</p>
<p>“Maybe she has, an’ maybe she hain’t,” said Hannah
Maria. “There’s young Van Dorn thinks a mighty
heap of her an’ he mought be jedge some day.”</p>
<p>“That some day is a long way off yet,” returned
Christine. “I am glad Alison is in no haste. She
seems such a child.”</p>
<p>“Laws, Tiny, when gals is so skeerce they git<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span>
married dreadful airly, an’ sixteen’s the age fer most
of ’em to be pickin’ out their husbands. You don’t
want her to be a old maid.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” returned Christine; “it’s what
I expect to be and it would be rather nice for us to
live together.”</p>
<p>“But you won’t be. Your time’ll come, too. Nobody
can’t make me believe Steve won’t come back.
Why, I remember jest how he looked the very day he
was missin’. He come by an’ says: ‘I’m expectin’
John back in a few days, an’ I’ll be expectin’ you to
dance at my weddin’ purty soon, Hannah Maria. If
you’ll make my weddin’ cake I’ll see that you git a
sweetheart.’ Jest like his jokin’; always purtendin’ I
ain’t got married ’cause I kain’t git ary man ter hev
me. I says, ‘I reckon ’most anybody could git married
in this country if they wanted to pick up a crooked
stick like some I could name,’ an’ he laughed and said
I’d better look out or I’d git a crooked stick myself if
I waited too long. He knows as well as anybody thet
I’ve hed chances and thet nobody could induce me to
leave Bud while he’s single. There, I declar’ ef Laura
Van Dorn ain’t a-comin’. She will be disapp’inted
not to see Allie. She’s real fond of Allie, on her
brother’s account, I reckon. I wonder if he came with
her.”</p>
<p>“Heard the news?” said Laura as she entered.</p>
<p>“No. What is it?” said Hannah Maria eagerly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>“The Dutch have taken Holland,” returned Laura
laughing.</p>
<p>“Oh, git out,” cried Hannah Maria. “You’re always
foolin’. I thought it was something from the
seat of war.”</p>
<p>“It’s likely to be quiet down there for awhile,” said
Laura, swinging her sunbonnet by its strings.
“Where’s Allie?”</p>
<p>“Gone over home. She’s daft about that place and
that little greaser gal, pretty little thing she is, and
well-behaved as any lady I ever saw. Her father’s
kep’ her good and quiet an’ she’s real superior, though
I ain’t much for them greasers at the best. Still, I
dunno that she’ll do Allie any harm.”</p>
<p>“I certainly don’t think she will,” put in Christine.
“I should not let Alison be so intimate with her if I
did not think it was perfectly safe for her. Lolita is
very quick to learn and you would be surprised to see
what a good appearance she makes anywhere. Alison
watches her like a hawk, to be sure, and brings her to
task if she commits any mistake at table, or anywhere
else, for that matter.”</p>
<p>“You ought just to see some of ’em,” said Hannah
Maria. “They ain’t no idea of usin’ anything but
their fingers when they eat, an’ such messes as they
do cook would make a cat sick. I reckon Lolita has
some good blood in her. They say old Pedro belonged
to right nice folks. Blythe come over, Laura?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>“Yes, I left him talking to Bud. When he finds
Alison has gone I suppose he will be ready to ride
after her.”</p>
<p>Hannah Maria looked interested, and her fancy
went galloping to the meeting between the two.
“Now ain’t it purty,” she said after a pause, “to see a
young fellow that ain’t backward; some of ’em is so
shy. How’s Cynthy, Laura?”</p>
<p>“She’s well.”</p>
<p>“Polly Sanders’s baby any more fits?”</p>
<p>“Not that I’ve heard of.”</p>
<p>“Tom M’Gee got back?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think so.”</p>
<p>“Heerd any more about Manthy Lance?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“I reckon that’ll be a match,” said Hannah Maria
dwelling upon the subject of Manthy and Tom. “Bud
thinks they’ll be married before the year’s out. How’s
Jim Steele, Laura?”</p>
<p>Laura hung her head and ceased to swing her bonnet.
“I suppose he’s well,” she replied. “Have you
heard any news from your brother, Christine?” she
asked, turning the subject.</p>
<p>“Nothing very lately. I hoped he would be back by
this time.”</p>
<p>“I certainly will be glad to see all them soldier
boys,” said Hannah Maria, “but I’ll be sorry to lose
you and Allie, Christine. It’s lucky how all them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>
boys has escaped. I was afraid it would finish some
of ’em. They say Monterey was a terrible battle and
that we’d oughter be proud of our side. They’ve been
laying out to take the place ever since May, but they
say it’s a perfect Giberalter, and it’s a wonder anybody
escaped. I should think by this time the Mexicans
would see we can fight and that they’d give in, but
Bud don’t believe they will till there’s more fightin’.
For my part, I wish it was all over and done with and
everybody back home. I reckon you’re glad Blythe
didn’t go, Laura.”</p>
<p>“Indeed I am. I think they have enough without
him. He’s the only son of a widow, you know, and
he’s got a good excuse.”</p>
<p>“So he is, but your mother’s got your sister’s husband
there, that’s just like a son to her. He looks
after things real good, don’t he?”</p>
<p>“Yes, he does, or else Blythe would have to give up
his idea of studying law. Mother is real well off with
Ellen and Henry and three or four hands in the
field.”</p>
<p>This was the kind of talk which failed to interest
Alison, who by this time had reached the cabin where
Pedro and Lolita lived, and was greeted with soft
Spanish endearments by Lolita. Even the very modest
abode of these despised Mexicans appeared more attractive
in Alison’s eyes than the one occupied by the
Haleys. Lolita was on her knees deftly rubbing the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>
metate stone in order to prepare the corn for tortillas.
Jumping from her horse Alison watched her and presently
joined her in slapping the thin round cakes, winning
praise for her skill from her little friend.</p>
<p>“Oh, I assure you,” said Alison, laughing, “I am
mightily pleased to be eating tortillas with you to-day
and I hope we are to have frijoles and tamales as
well, for I am hungrier than you can imagine. I never
can eat heartily of the breakfasts that Hannah Maria
likes.”</p>
<p>Lolita promised her the frijoles and the tamales, and
Alison sat contentedly slapping out tortillas while
Lolita prepared the black beans and the meat compound,
well seasoned with red pepper and onions and
done up in corn husks, a savory dish to those who
could stand the pepper.</p>
<p>Presently Lolita, who had been busy over her work,
exclaimed: “Señor Van Dorn, cara mia.”</p>
<p>“Dear me,” Alison did not look up, “let him find
me if he can. Is he coming this way, Lolita?”</p>
<p>“He look you all place. No is find.”</p>
<p>“It won’t hurt him to hunt awhile longer. He
should know that I am here.” And, indeed, Blythe
did soon become aware of the fact, for it was not long
before he sauntered up to the two girls.</p>
<p>“Well, Miss Alison,” he said, “are you turning
Mexican?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I am fain to come over here once in a while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>
to earn my dinner or else die of ’og and ’ominy,
as old British Tom calls it. Don’t you like tortillas?”</p>
<p>“When they are prepared by such fair hands as
yours.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense, that has nothing to do with it,” said
Alison, unresponsive to his sentimentality. “Lolita
makes them far better than I do. Did you want to
see Pedro? He is out by the hog-yard, or somewhere
about.”</p>
<p>“You know I have no business with Pedro.”</p>
<p>“Have you business with anybody?” asked Alison
saucily.</p>
<p>“If you would permit it.”</p>
<p>“I’ve nothing to do with business of any kind at
present,—I am all for pleasure. That’s why I came
over to help Lolita make tortillas.”</p>
<p>“May I stay and help you eat them?”</p>
<p>“You must ask Lolita.”</p>
<p>As Blythe was not yet very apt with Spanish he
preferred his request in his own tongue and was surprised
that Lolita answered him in perfectly correct
English, telling him he was quite welcome. “She
certainly is a beauty,” whispered the young man to
Alison. “It is a pity she is a Mexican.”</p>
<p>“And why?” asked Alison.</p>
<p>“She might marry well; perhaps one of her American
neighbors.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>“She has no taste for Americanos, except for our
family.”</p>
<p>“Where did she learn English?”</p>
<p>“I am her teacher. She teaches me Spanish, so we
can converse in either language.”</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t mind being her pupil.”</p>
<p>Alison gave her head a toss. “You will not be permitted
to enter her class.”</p>
<p>“Ah, you misunderstand me. I meant that I should
like the privilege of sharing the lessons with you.”</p>
<p>“I don’t believe you meant any such thing, but we
will let that pass.”</p>
<p>“You know she is not the type I most admire.”</p>
<p>“How should I know?”</p>
<p>“Because she is your opposite.”</p>
<p>“That’s nonsense, too.”</p>
<p>“I wish I knew what style of man you admire.”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you some time. I can’t now, because I am
busy with these tortillas. Have you ever eaten a real
Mexican meal?”</p>
<p>“No, you know we have not been long in the country,
and I have not traveled through this section very
much.”</p>
<p>Alison smiled in anticipated amusement and when
the hour came for the noonday meal she watched the
young man slyly. There was neither fork nor spoon
with which to convey the frijoles to his mouth. He
looked at them helplessly and both the girls laughed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>
merrily. “You must roll up your tortillas so, and
make a spoon,” Alison told him, and when he awkwardly
tried to follow her directions she laughed at
him the more. So the meal passed amid much merriment,
for Blythe was good-nature itself and even
Pedro’s gravity relaxed at the joyousness of the young
people.</p>
<p>“Now you will take a walk with me, won’t you?”
said Blythe to Alison when the meal was over and
they had wandered to where a cottonwood afforded
some shelter from the heat of noon. Pedro was taking
his siesta, and Lolita, too, had curled herself up in
the long grass, sleep already causing her long lashes to
droop over the soft curve of her cheek.</p>
<p>“It is too hot for a walk, don’t you know that?”
said Alison. “You’ve a lot to learn about this part
of the country, Mr. Van Dorn of New York State.
This is the time for rest. Not a Mexican but has
sense enough to remain absolutely quiet after a full
meal! Pedro thinks it a mortal sin to exercise after
eating, and was just telling me the story of the man
whom his master found lying under a tree, when his
companions were working in the cane.”</p>
<p>“I have never heard the story.”</p>
<p>“His master came along and asked why he was not
working, and the man made answer: ‘Empty sack
can’t stand.’ His master sent him to the house for a
good meal. An hour after the master came that way<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>
again and there was the man as before lying under the
tree. ‘Why are you not at work?’ asked he. ‘An
hour ago you gave as an excuse that you were empty.
Have you not eaten as I told you to do?’ ‘Full sack
can’t bend,’ said the man.”</p>
<p>Blythe laughed. “Then I will have mercy on you
and we will rest here.”</p>
<p>“Not here, but over by that oak yonder where it is
more shady; this cottonwood’s foliage is so light and
thin it does not protect one near so well as the oak. I
will walk that far, although it is against my principles.”</p>
<p>They established themselves comfortably, Alison
leaning against the trunk of the tree and Blythe half
reclining at her feet. “And now tell me what is your
favorite type of man,” said the lad, pulling a blade of
the dry grass and drawing it between his fingers.</p>
<p>“You tell me first what is your ideal of womanhood.”</p>
<p>“That is easy to do. She must be young and fair.”</p>
<p>“She couldn’t keep so, you know, in this climate.”</p>
<p>Blythe did not heed the interruption. “She must
be rather tall, not too plump, with blue eyes that look
right at you and do not droop or languish but are
honest and fearless. She must have hair the color of
ripe corn husks, a tinge of yellow in it. She must
have courage and daring without being bold. She
must be gentle yet not too meek; amiable, yet able to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>
stand up for the right. She must have womanly tastes
yet be ready to ride a horse, hit a mark and rope in a
calf as well as she can cook a meal and sew a seam.
She must not be ignorant of books, like too many of
the women one meets about here, and she must have a
care to the neatness of her dress, something also often
overlooked by our good neighbors.”</p>
<p>“Dear me, I shall write that all down as soon as I
get home,” said Alison. “You certainly require a
paragon. I don’t know where you will find her.”</p>
<p>“I know only one who answers to my description.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you do know one?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and she is not a mile away, but is as hard to
approach as a star.”</p>
<p>“My, but you are poetical. I wonder you left such
an intellectual spot as New York for these wilds.”</p>
<p>“I came because my father did, and now he is gone
I stay because my mother and sister do so. Since my
eldest sister has married here it seems as if we may as
well remain, for there is always a future for an enterprising
young man in a new country. When I am
judge you will see how well I have done for myself.”</p>
<p>“That seems a great many years to look ahead when
one is not yet of age,” remarked Alison. “I am
afraid you will get discouraged long before that.”</p>
<p>“Not if I have the proper incentive, if the girl I
want will encourage me. Tell me now what you admire
in a man.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>Alison tipped back her head upon her clasped hands
and fixed her eyes upon the fleecy clouds drifting
across the blue sky. “He must not be too young,”
she began, “nor too wise in such things as I cannot
understand, like Latin and—law. He must be tall and
muscular and rather dark than fair. He must be
brave and cheerful under difficulties and true as steel,
loving the things that grow out of doors, and animals
and skies and streams more than books. He must make
me feel that wherever he is I have a sure protection,
for he must be a ready fighter either for his country
or for me, yet he must not be one who tries to pick a
quarrel or is coarse and ignorant and shiftless. He
must know how to make his way among men, but must
be chivalrous towards women; not a dandy, though,
nor one who makes pretty speeches and then lets a
woman wait on him and do the things which it is his
right to do. He must love his home, but be no loafer
and idler. He must be witty and entertaining, but not
silly. Of course he must ride and shoot and do all
those things well and must have a reputation as an Indian
fighter and all that.”</p>
<p>“You require a great deal,” said Blythe in a dejected
tone.</p>
<p>“Not more than you.”</p>
<p>“But I have found my ideal.”</p>
<p>“And I have not, unless it be my brother John, for
he is my pattern.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>Blythe turned from her, resting himself upon his
two elbows: “It would take a great many years for a
man to fit himself to that pattern,” he said.</p>
<p>“Yes, he’d have to begin young, as young even as
you, I suppose,” said Alison nonchalantly.</p>
<p>“And by the time he had reached your ideal the
girl he cared for would be married.”</p>
<p>“Very likely; if she were to marry at all. She
might be like Hannah Maria and be fond of all love
stories except her own.”</p>
<p>“The girl I mean could never be like Hannah
Maria.”</p>
<p>Alison laughed merrily. “You don’t know what
twenty years can do to a woman, especially down here
where people grow careless.”</p>
<p>Blythe’s eyes roved over Alison’s neat dress, her
soft hair, smooth and tidy except where the little curling
tendrils were blown about her face by the breeze,
and he shook his head. “She could never look like
Hannah Maria,” he insisted.</p>
<p>“If she turns out to be half as good and unselfish,
she may count herself lucky,” said Alison. “Hannah
Maria may not be beautiful in face and figure, but she
has a beautiful spirit, as our minister at home used to
say. Do you ever get homesick, Blythe? I do.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I do sometimes, but never when I am with
you.”</p>
<p>“You should not get homesick when you are not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>
with me, for you have a home and a mother. I wish
I had a mother.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know how good my mother is,” said
Blythe eagerly. “She often says that when I bring
home a wife she will love her as her own daughter.”</p>
<p>“How pleasant for your wife. I hope that in that
long, long time to come, when you are judge and have
found the right girl, your mother will still feel the
same way. I shall probably have been married years
by that time, and I will come to your wedding and
say, ‘Law, I remember when Blythe Van Dorn was a
snip of a boy and used to tell me what he meant to do
when he was a man. He hasn’t married a girl a bit
like what he thought he would.’”</p>
<p>At this final shot the boy of twenty grew suddenly
moody, arose from his place in the oak tree’s cool
shade and went to where his horse was picketed.
“Good-bye,” he said.</p>
<p>“Going?” called Alison cheerily. “If you see
Hannah Maria as you are passing, tell her I shall be
home in time for supper.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X<br>
<small>A RAFFLE</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">WHILE matters were going on quietly at home
John and his friends had been in the thick of
battle, and the desperate fighting at Monterey had
left John with his arm in a sling, Ira with a bullet in
his shoulder and Neal with a sabre cut across his forehead.
The Texan Rangers, under Major Ben McCullough,
having been discharged at this point, John and
Ira made ready to return home while Neal reentered
service under Colonel John Hay. “That’s what I
call a soldier,” said Alison, when the news was brought
that Neal would not return with the others, “for all
that, I am glad enough that John is coming back, and
Ira, too. They have won their discharge, for both
are wounded.”</p>
<p>“I am glad to say not seriously,” said Christine,
putting down the letter just received from her brother.
“Now Alison, we must get back home and make ready
for our hero.” There was some of Christine’s old
brightness in her manner as she said this, and Alison
gave her a hug.</p>
<p>“Won’t it be good to get back again? If we can
get hold of some flour we’ll have some biscuits first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>
thing, and if not I shall certainly go to making tortillas,
for I am sick of soggy corn-bread.”</p>
<p>“We don’t have to have it soggy,” said Christine
cheerfully. “We can make some good egg pone like
we used to have at home, and if we can’t eat that we
must be fastidious.”</p>
<p>They took their news to Hannah Maria, who voiced
her regrets at their departure as she stood at the door
watching Pedro pile their “tricks” into his queer little
Mexican cart. “Now do be sociable,” was her parting
word, “and come over often. I’ll be fa’r achin’
for news. I’ll let ye hev Dally ef ye want her to
he’p,” she added as an afterthought. “Me an’ Bud
kin git along without her fo’ awhile, till ye git fixed.”</p>
<p>“No indeed, we wouldn’t take her from you for
the world,” said Alison, decidedly, visions of Daily’s
greasy cooking rising before her. “We are going to
look out for some one to do the kitchen work. Lon
Davis knows of a girl some one wants to hire out,
some new people who have just come down from
Virginia.”</p>
<p>“Well, they do say them Ferginny cooks is good,”
said Hannah Maria, “though fer my part I like plenty
of sop for my wittles and they cook too dry fer me.”</p>
<p>“Too dry,” murmured Alison as she drew Chico
alongside her sister, now mounted on Hero. “Lumps
of meat swimming in grease don’t appeal to me.”
This remark was not overheard by Hannah Maria,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>
however, who smilingly waved her hand and called
out to the departing girls that if their servant didn’t
turn up they must remember they could have Dally.</p>
<p>“Poor dear old Hannah Maria,” said Alison, as
they cantered off. “Isn’t she too good for anything?
She would give us her head if she thought we could
make use of it. But the fates forbid that we should
ever have that dirty, slouchy old Dally in our kitchen.
I am thankful we learned what cleanliness and good
housekeeping meant before we came here.”</p>
<p>“Where ignorance is bliss,” said Christine. “Hannah
Maria is perfectly satisfied. She likes greasy sop
and heavy corn pone, so why should we pity her?”</p>
<p>“Such depraved taste, though,” sighed Alison.</p>
<p>Christine laughed. “Never mind, we don’t have to
stand it any longer, though it does seem ungrateful
to say so. Think how kind she has been to us.”</p>
<p>“She surely has been. I feel mean to say a word
even against old Dally. Isn’t it a glorious morning,
Tina? Do you know it is a year since we left home,
a whole year? Can you realize it?”</p>
<p>“I can very readily realize it,” said Christine, her
face becoming suddenly grave. “It is a very different
year from what I expected. You are not sorry you
came, are you, Alison? You are not ready to go
back to Aunt Miranda, are you?”</p>
<p>“Not I. This life suits me exactly. I love the
freedom of it, though some of the roughness grated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>
upon me at first, and I sometimes wish we had some
of our friends from home as neighbors. Still there
are some nice people, the Van Dorns, for example.
Blythe Van Dorn is one of the few educated men I
have met, or else if they are educated they have lost
their refinement in this rough association.”</p>
<p>“And who are the others, if Blythe is one?”</p>
<p>“John, of course, and Neal Jordan, though one
doesn’t discover that at once. He is one of those
who has lost his polish by mixing with all sorts and
conditions.”</p>
<p>Christine looked at the girl quickly, but was answered
by an innocent smile. “I believe that is true
of Neal,” she said. “He is quite above the average.”</p>
<p>“And very different from—Pike Smith, for example,
or even dear old Bud, or Ira.”</p>
<p>“Ira is pure gold, though in the rough,” returned
Christine. “I wonder if he has Lou’s token and if
he will get here in time to pull the poor girl out of
her quagmire.”</p>
<p>“It is rather lucky that there are two whom Cy
favors,” said Alison. “The last time Bud was over
there he said Lou told him that her father was fair
distracted between her two persistent suitors, that
just as he’d think he had it fixed up with Jabe, Pike
would come along and there would be a stormy scene.
I really think Cy would rather not have Pike for a
son-in-law, but is afraid not to show him favor. So<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>
what seemed a bad state of affairs is turning out
rather luckily for Lou, since this sort of seesawing puts
off the evil day. Bud says there’s more behind it all
and that Lou has her reasons for not coming out flat
foot and telling her father that she will not marry
either of them. I shouldn’t wonder if there would be
lively times when Ira comes.”</p>
<p>But in Lou’s direction matters had been hastening
to a crisis more rapidly than any one supposed, and it
looked as if, were Ira to delay his coming, his chances
for obtaining the girl of his choice would be rather
slim. Cyrus chafed more and more under the enforced
conditions which his daughter’s presence made necessary.
He was growing very tired of this respectability,
and, moreover, his former relations with Pike
Smith, which had been only too questionable, had
really put him in Pike’s power. He must therefore,
either renew these relations, silence Pike by giving
him his daughter, or cut entirely loose from Pike,
favor Jabez Manypenny and hide his own misdeeds
behind that powerful influence. Besides there was
the opinion of the neighbors to be considered. The
“boys” had made it very plain to Cyrus that it was a
free country for women as well as for men and any
decided attempt to marry off Louisa against her will
would be speedily resented and would not be allowed.
Cyrus was therefore in a dilemma. How was he to
please everybody and still go scot free? The question<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>
actually kept him awake nights, and one morning
when he sat with his breakfast before him untouched,
Louisa took alarm.</p>
<p>“You’re fretting, dad,” she said. “I hope it ain’t
about me,” she added.</p>
<p>Cyrus lifted his cup and took a long draught of
coffee before he answered. “What’s a man to do,” he
said, “when half the boys in the neighborhood plague
him to death fer his darter?”</p>
<p>Louisa gave her head a jerk. “Oh, is that all? I
thought it was something particular.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you call that partickerlar?”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t. Half the men don’t mean any particular
man.”</p>
<p>“To come down to facts, then, it is partickerlar. I
saw Jabez Manypenny last night.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Jabez Manypenny,” Louisa broke in pettishly,
“he’s old enough to be my father. I don’t want an
old bag of bones like him.”</p>
<p>“He’s a much respected man, Louisy, and I take it
as a great compliment fer him to ast me fer you,” said
Cyrus gravely. “But if you must hev a young man,
there’s Pike Smith.”</p>
<p>“Gracious! He’d want to boss us both, he’s that
masterful.”</p>
<p>“There’s some others,” said Cyrus, doubtfully;
“Tim Forbes, Matt Cochran. Yer a favorite, Lou, in
spite of yer red head.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>Louisa made no comment. The old man sat in a
brown study for some minutes, then he went on,
“With all them good fellers I don’t see why you can’t
take the best and thet’s Jabe.” He paused suddenly,
threw back his head and with a chuckle, brought his
hand down hard on the table. “I tell you, Lou, I’ve
got it,” he cried. “No one can say I show partiality.
I’ll make no enemies, that’s somethin’ I can’t afford to
do—and I ain’t goin’ to force you to marry any one of
’em. It’s got to be settled somehow and I’ll—yes, I’ll
be switched if I don’t raffle ye off.”</p>
<p>“Raffle me off?” Louisa’s eyes opened wide in surprise.</p>
<p>“Yes, miss, raffle you off. I reckon you’re as good
as a doll at a church fair. I’ll raffle you off. Fifty
chances at two dollars apiece will be so much in my
pocket. If the men sparking you ain’t willin’ to go as
high as two dollars fer the chanst of gittin’ ye they
don’t vally you very high, thet’s all. It’ll be a good
test, too; the more chances they take, the more they
think of ye. What do ye say, miss? Ain’t it a good
scheme?”</p>
<p>“It’s very queer—and——”</p>
<p>“Queer or not, it will be done. You won’t go back
on your old dad, Lou? You’ll help him out of his
troubles, won’t you? It’s a first-rate plan; gives you
a chanst to see who vally you, yes it does. Give me a
piece of paper. Here goes, one, two, three.” He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>
laboriously set down the figures from one to fifty,
folded the sheet of paper, put it in his pocket, picked
up his hat and walked out, leaving Louisa wondering
if it were all a joke.</p>
<p>She discovered that he was quite in earnest, when,
at the end of the week, the paper showed every number
taken, and Cyrus adding fifty more. Jabez
Manypenny had not hesitated to stake twenty dollars
on his chance; Pike Smith came next with ten; the
others had risked from one to three chances according
to the state of their pocketbooks and their hearts.
Louisa felt that the time had come for her to be up
and doing. She had scarcely believed that her father
would carry out his plan, though every one had declared
it was a fair way to settle matters, that it
showed a good head for business on the part of Cyrus
Sparks. Presenting itself as a game of chance it took
the popular fancy and caused a real excitement for
miles around.</p>
<p>Just what Louisa thought not every one stopped to
inquire, but Louisa was doing a deal of thinking. If
Ira did not appear to claim her little did she care who
did. She wondered if Ira would be able to reach her
before the crisis, and day by day looked for some word
or sign from him. If all else failed her she determined
that she would resort to strategy and meant to
outwit chance if opportunity allowed. At all events
her friends would be on hand to see fair play for there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>
was bound to be a big gathering at this unusual frolic.
Cyrus was in high good humor. He was making
money, was setting himself in a favorable light before
his neighbors, and was leaving to chance a matter
which he had begun to find too great a responsibility.
Pike carried himself with an amount of confidence
which enraged Louisa, and she treated him with all
the disdain of which she was capable. Jabez Manypenny
chuckled over his prospects, for holding the
largest number of chances he felt secure of carrying
off the prize. And in this state did matters remain
till the time came around for the raffle to take place.</p>
<p>It was on the afternoon of the fateful day that Alison,
in a fever of expectation, saw two riders coming
rapidly up the road. “They’re coming. Oh, Tina,
they’re coming at last,” she called to her sister.</p>
<p>Christine came running out and the two stood
watching the approach of the men. “It’s John. Oh,
John, John,” cried Alison running down to meet her
brother. He checked his horse, and the girl eagerly
sprang up to kiss him, standing in the big Mexican
stirrup and clinging to his arm till they reached the
door.</p>
<p>“Back again, safe and sound,” cried John, as Tina
ran to him. “Just a scar, sis, to show that we’ve
been where there was fighting. All well, girls?
What’s your news?”</p>
<p>“News enough,” returned Alison with an emphatic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>
nod at Ira. “It’s well you’re here, Master Ira, or
there would be no more Louisa Sparks.”</p>
<p>Ira fairly turned pale under his tan. “What—what
do you mean?” he said, jumping from his horse and
never heeding where the creature went.</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s an odd tale, and you must hear it at once.
Come in, boys. I know you must be hungry, and
while you are eating we will tell you of the scheme
Cyrus Sparks has been getting up. It does him credit
almost every one thinks, but how it is going to turn
out no one knows.” Then she gave a rapid account of
the situation, Ira listening intently.</p>
<p>“And all the chances taken, you say?” He brought
his hand down hard on the table.</p>
<p>“Every one.” Alison rather enjoyed his dismay.</p>
<p>“And we’ve been riding night and day to get
here,” said John. “What does Lou say to all
this?”</p>
<p>“She isn’t saying very much. If she hadn’t agreed,
there was Jabez on one side bound to have her and
Pike on the other ready to carry her off like a Goth
and Vandal.” Reminiscences of her lessons in history
gave Alison the comparison.</p>
<p>“But Ira,” began Christine, in spite of Alison’s
frowns and shakes of the head, “Bud has taken two
chances and you are to have one or both.”</p>
<p>“What did you tell him for? I wanted to keep
him on the rack for awhile longer,” said Alison. “It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>
is true, Ira; Bud took a chance for you and one for
himself. He says you shall have whichever one you
choose. It was the best he could do.”</p>
<p>“Good for Bud,” said John. “He’s an old trump.
I knew we could trust him to look out for our interests.”</p>
<p>“He’s been as true as steel,” Christine told them.
“He and Hannah Maria could not have done more if
they had been our own brother and sister. They will
be along directly and we are all to go to the raffle together.
The whole countryside will be there. My,
what a sensation you two boys will make, just back
from the wars.”</p>
<p>“And we were so afraid you might not get here in
time. I really did not give up hope till to-day, and
when it got later and later I did not know what we
should do, for I know Louisa pins her faith on Ira.
You must make yourself look your prettiest, young
man, and if you can’t get Louisa any other way you’ll
have to run off with her, and I’ll hold her father to
keep him from running after you.”</p>
<p>Every one laughed, and Ira vowed he would follow
Alison’s suggestion if there were no other way.</p>
<p>“She’s got to be saved from Pike Smith,” said John
gravely. “Everything right about the place, girls?
Pedro still here?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and he’s a dear old thing,” Alison told him.
“Oh, me, John, there is so much to tell about and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>
we’ve so many questions to ask that we shall never
get through.”</p>
<p>“Time enough for them,” said John, settling down
to the meal now spread before him. “The thing
we’ve got to attend to now is this affair of Louisa’s.
Comes off this evening, you say?”</p>
<p>“This very evening, and here come Hannah Maria
and Bud this minute. We’ll go out and speak to them
while you and Ira finish eating.” She ran out to meet
her friends with the cry, “John’s come, John’s come,
and Ira, too.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t they stop by?” said Hannah Maria in
an aggrieved tone.</p>
<p>“Oh, they were too anxious to get home. They
have been traveling night and day.”</p>
<p>“Iry might hev come anyhow,” said Bud. “He
inside?”</p>
<p>“Yes, they are eating. They are mighty hungry
after their long ride.”</p>
<p>Bud strode into the house, while Hannah Maria occupied
herself with Alison. “Ain’t it excitin’?” she
said. “I declar’, it’s as good as goin’ to a play.
What you reckon is goin’ to happen if Ira’s number
don’t drawr?”</p>
<p>“He says he’ll carry Lou off rather than let Pike
Smith have her.”</p>
<p>“Law, did you ever? Ain’t thet interestin’? You
reckon he will? I wouldn’t blame him.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>“Well, he’s bound to do something or lose her.”</p>
<p>“So he is. Did he say he got the ha’r she sent?”</p>
<p>“No, but I think he did, for they have been coming
just as hard as they could make it, and look worn out.”</p>
<p>“Too bad they’ve got to start right off agin, but
then, bein’ soldiers I reckon they won’t mind it like
we would. The Van Dorns ain’t a-comin’, at least the
wimmin folks ain’t. Old Mis’ Van Dorn says she
thinks it’s sinful to raffle off a human bein’.”</p>
<p>“So it might be under some circumstances. I think
Louisa is lying low so as to outwit her father some
way. She’s equal to it if she’s pressed.”</p>
<p>Hannah Maria hugged herself in anticipation of the
pleasures in store. “Ain’t it fun?” she said. “I
wouldn’t miss it fer a purty. I reckon there’ll be a
regular swarm thar. I don’t know whar Cy’ll put ’em
all. He ain’t so much room.”</p>
<p>“Those that can’t get in can stay outside,” said
Alison. “Louisa said she hoped there would be a big
crowd. She said she was going to prepare plenty to
eat. She asked me to bring Lolita and we are all
going in the cart.”</p>
<p>“Ain’t it fun?” repeated Hannah Maria. “I’m
gittin’ anxious to git thar. Ain’t them men most
ready? Oh, Bud! You Bud!” she called.</p>
<p>Bud came to the door. “Don’t stand thar jawin’
all day,” said his sister. “Leave them men eat their
wittles in peace. I want to git thar airly to see all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>
thet’s goin’ on.” Only on such occasions was Hannah
Maria known to be in a hurry, and Bud was scarcely
more ready to be on time save when his curiosity was
to be gratified—so, after a few more words, he came
out.</p>
<p>“We’ll jog on and tell ’em you’re comin’,” he said
to Alison. “I’ve a mind not to tell ’em that Iry has
come. I suppose you’ll want to wait fer your men
folks, and they’ll hev to hev fresh hosses.” Alison
watched the two ride away and then went indoors to
hasten matters for the others.</p>
<p>It was something more than an hour later that the
Ross family drew up before Cyrus Sparks’s house.
There was already a large gathering. Many horses
were tied to the fence, men stood around in groups,
women bustled in and out of the open door, children,
escaped from their care-takers, toddled from this person
to that.</p>
<p>“Looks like a barbecue or a meetin’ of the co’t,”
said Ira, viewing the assemblage with interest.</p>
<p>“It is what you might call a co’t,” laughed Bud,
who had stumped out to meet them. “I ain’t told
Louisa you’ve come; wanted to give her a surprise.
’Pears to me like she was purty skeert, pore gal. Got
them numbers all right?”</p>
<p>Ira nodded. He was off his horse in a twinkling,
but made his way into the house with difficulty, being
frequently intercepted by those ready to welcome him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>
back and to ask questions. Entering the door, the
first person he saw was Cyrus Sparks, who was in high
good humor. Two hundred dollars in pocket, and ten
chances out of a hundred that he would have a rich
son-in-law! The old man stood before the fire beaming
a welcome to the eager company. His jaw dropped
as Ira elbowed his way to him, but, remembering
that all the chances were taken, he recovered himself
and made an attempt at playing his part of genial
host. “Well, Iry,” he exclaimed, “didn’t expect to see
you. I reckon you’ve got a right smart of soldiering
stories to tell us, ain’t ye?”</p>
<p>But Ira did not do more than give him a brief greeting
and immediately pushed through the crowd to
where Louisa, with back turned to the room, stood
surrounded by a covey of laughing girls. There was
no hesitation in Ira’s manner now. He laid his heavy
hand on the girl’s shoulder. She turned and went
from white to red. “Ira!” she exclaimed. “You’ve
come.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’ve come. I got here quick as I could. I
want a word with you.” He drew her through the
door into the lean-to, and further, to the lot at the
back of the house. “I got yer stran’ o’ ha’r,” he said.
“It’s here,” he tapped the spot over his heart. “I
want to know if there’s any way out of this. I’ll
carry ye off if yer willin’; this minute, if ye say so.
Yer mine, chanst or no chanst, it’s nothin’ but sure fer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>
me. Will ye go with me, Lou? Ye know without
my tellin’ ye that I ain’t never wanted to marry no
other woman, an’ I’ll treat ye as good as I know
how.”</p>
<p>“I believe that,” answered Louisa. “There is another
way, I think, Ira. If it fails I’ll go with you.
I’d rather have you than any man in the world. Bud
said—he—did he tell you?”</p>
<p>“About the number? Yes, mine’s twenty-seven.”</p>
<p>“Twenty-seven, twenty-seven,” she repeated the
number. “Write it down for me.”</p>
<p>“And his is twenty-nine.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care what his is. I only want yours. If I
fail, Ira, I will give you a chance to speak to me and
we’ll get away before any one suspects. Oh, I thought
you would never come.” All her endurance of the
long suspense was in her cry.</p>
<p>Ira gave a quick glance around. Too many were
watching them; he did not dare follow out his inclination.
“Pore little gal. Pore little Lou,” he murmured,
his big hand clasping a fold of her frock. “I’ll
try to make up to ye fer all this. God knows I’ll be
good to ye. I ain’t so much of a saint, Lou, but I’ve
love ye mortal hard all this time.”</p>
<p>“I have always believed in you, Ira,” whispered
Louisa, “and I knew you’d come if you could, but it
was coming so near the end and I was beginning to be
afraid that something had happened.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>“Well, my little gal, I’m here now, and I’ll clean
out the whole lay-out before anybody else shall have
ye.” Louisa gave him a look which made his heart
beat fast, and, in spite of the curious onlookers he
grasped her hand and gave it a hearty squeeze. Then
the two returned to the house.</p>
<p>“Where was ye at, Lou?” Cyrus asked as she came
to his side.</p>
<p>“I was speaking to Ira Korner,” replied Louisa
calmly. “He’s just back from the wars, you know.”</p>
<p>“And ye couldn’t wait till ye had the war news, I
suppose,” said Cyrus with a sneer. “Well, he’s a day
after the fair. His cake’s all dough. Whit Parmly
took the last chanst a Monday. I reckon most everybody’s
come and it’s time to begin, ain’t it?”</p>
<p>“I suppose it is,” returned Louisa, her heart beating
fast. “You can call them in, dad. Where is the
paper?”</p>
<p>“I let Bud Haley hev it fer a minute. He said he
wanted to swop numbers with some one. He’d better
not be playing any fool tricks.”</p>
<p>“He couldn’t,” said Louisa. “Every one must
know his own number after picking it out.”</p>
<p>“That’s so,” returned her father. “Well, go git it.”</p>
<p>Louisa obeyed, and in a few minutes returned with
the well thumbed, greasy piece of paper with its long
list of names. She took occasion to glance down the
page and made sure that opposite twenty-seven Bud<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>
had clumsily scratched out his own name and had
written Ira’s in its stead.</p>
<p>Everybody now crowded into the room which was
filled to its utmost capacity. Around the doorway
and on the outside the men stood shoulder to shoulder,
their rough faces full of expectation. Every one of
them was anxious, not so much to secure the prize, as
to see that neither Jabez nor Pike won it. Bud had
done some lobbying and it began to be known how
matters stood between Louisa and Ira.</p>
<p>“Who’s to do the drawing?” asked Pike Smith in
his stentorian voice.</p>
<p>“I think I should be allowed to pick out my own
husband,” said Louisa, a sudden light coming into her
eyes. “Where’s your hat, dad? I want that.”</p>
<p>“Here, take mine, or mine,” said half a dozen.</p>
<p>“No, no, I must have dad’s, his old hat; I want
that,” persisted the girl.</p>
<p>“Let her have her way,” said burly Timothy Forbes,
“they all hev their notions.”</p>
<p>“That they have,” spoke up old Jabez with a smirk.
“Might as well give ’em their own gait till you want
to drive ’em double.” Ira frowned, but Pike Smith
laughed loudly.</p>
<p>It was several minutes before Louisa returned with
the hat. “Now blindfold her, Hannah Maria,”
shouted John, “and see that there is no chance of her
peeping.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>“I’ll cut off the slips first,” said Louisa quietly.
“See, here, if anybody wants to look let ’em do it.”
The numbers dropped from her scissors one by one
into the old hat. Louisa tossed them lightly about.
“I’ll mix them well,” she said carelessly. “How
many times shall I draw?”</p>
<p>“Let the fifth drawing be the one,” said Jabez officiously.</p>
<p>No one objected, therefore Louisa took her place in
a big rough chair by the fireside. “Now you can
blindfold me, Hannah Maria,” she said, “and I’ll
throw my handkerchief over the hat, too, so every one
may be sure that I am not peeping.”</p>
<p>Then fell upon the company a great silence, broken
only by the uneasy stir of a heel on the bare floor, by
the snapping of the fire, by a dry cough from Jabez
Manypenny. Louisa drew from under the handkerchief
the first number and held it up.</p>
<p>“Fourteen,” called out Cyrus who took it from her.
Timothy Forbes laughed sheepishly and moved to the
back of the room. A second slip was produced.
“Seven,” announced Cyrus. Pike Smith gave an impatient
“Tchut!” but remembered that there were
four more chances left for him and assumed his confident
air.</p>
<p>Twenty-two was the next number, which had such
an effect upon Matt Cochran that he strode out and
would have slammed the door if he could. At<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>
seventy-eight Lew Phelps looked gloomily down at his
boots.</p>
<p>Then there was a pause before the last drawing.
Jabez moved so that his small spare figure was
silhouetted against the dancing flames. Pike Smith
drew himself up to the full height of his six feet two.
Ira fixed his eyes on Louisa. Below the handkerchief
which bound the girl’s eyes her cheeks glowed brilliantly.
She lingered so long that some one laughed
nervously and Cyrus said sharply, “Hurry up, Lou.”
She caught her breath as her hand under the handkerchief
found the little duplicate slip which she had
taken the precaution to hide in the lining of her
father’s old hat. She drew it forth slowly. It was
withdrawn from her cold shaking fingers by her father
who looked at it, paused, looked again, and then read
out reluctantly: “Twenty-seven!”</p>
<p>In an instant Louisa sprang to her feet, pushed back
the bandage from her eyes, turned to the fire and
dashed the remaining slips into the flames. These
leaped up and cast a bright glow upon the glad face
of Ira Korner, who grasped the girl’s hands in his and
triumphantly faced the room.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI<br>
<small>LOU’S WEDDING</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">SUCH a cheer as went up, when, the suspense over,
every one was aware of the result of the drawing.
Hannah Maria was the first to rush up with congratulations
to Ira. Never before had she been so closely
concerned in a romance, and that it had turned out so
well was beyond her dearest hopes. Alison and
Christine were scarcely more pleased than fat, good-natured,
sentimental Hannah Maria. Since the annexation
of Texas to the United States the time had
passed when the presence of a <i>padre</i> was necessary to
legalize a marriage, and so it was hoped that there
would be no delay in the wedding, as Judge Jackson
had been notified by his friend Jabez Manypenny to
be present, and was promptly on hand to perform the
ceremony for Ira and Louisa, to Jabez’ discomfiture
and Pike’s rage.</p>
<p>Though matters had turned out very differently
from what Cyrus had expected he could say nothing,
for there were too many witnesses to the transaction
for him to attempt to back out of his agreement, and,
moreover, he knew that a very determined set of men
would permit nothing less than the carrying out of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>
scheme he himself had arranged. The fact that Ira
held a number came as a surprise to him, and he began
to bluster about it to Bud, claiming that it was not
fair, and that the drawing should be done over again,
but he was so fiercely turned upon by half a dozen
big fellows that he perceived the wisdom of letting the
matter rest. At first he hoped there would be some
way of deferring the marriage, and that he could
evolve some plan by which Ira could be sent out of
the way. He knew Pike would hesitate at nothing,
and, for a moment, in the sharpness of his disappointment,
he had a wild notion of getting Pike’s help in
abducting Louisa or Ira, but, to his credit be it said,
he was reluctant to allow his daughter to marry such
a scamp as he knew Pike to be, and when all insisted
that there should be no delay in the ceremony he
acquiesced with as good a grace as could be expected.</p>
<p>The old judge in long boots, flannel shirt, and with
untrimmed beard, elbowed his way through the crowd
of giggling girls clustered together in the middle of
the room. Hannah Maria, in her element, whispered
suggestions to the bridal party. The company lined
up leaving a passageway for John and Christine,
Alison and Blythe Van Dorn, acting as bridesmaids
and groomsmen and preceding Ira and Louisa, the latter
in gay calico gown. The old judge wasted no time,
and in a remarkably short space of time Louisa was
Mrs. Ira Korner. Then the witnesses pressed forward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>
to offer congratulations. All but two had a hearty
word to say. Jabez Manypenny did not tarry, but
sneaked out the door before the ceremony was over
and, mounting his horse, rode home, meditating upon
the uncertainty of human hopes. Pike Smith, gnashing
his teeth in rage, kept watch in the darkness of
the pine woods near at hand.</p>
<p>“When we started out this morning you didn’t expect
to be a married man before night, did you, Ira?”
said John, giving his companion in arms a hearty slap
on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“I didn’t exactly count on it,” said Ira.</p>
<p>“You’d better come home with us,” continued John.
“You know that place of yours isn’t very handy to get
to and it’s been shut up all these months, and I will
venture to say it isn’t any too well fixed up at its
best.”</p>
<p>Ira laughed. “Well, I reckon you’re right. It is
pretty messy as I remember.”</p>
<p>“Then you just come to our house till you can fix
up,” urged John. “Lou will feel at home there and
the girls will be delighted to have her, and you, too,
for that matter.”</p>
<p>“I take it real kind of you,” said Ira. “If Lou’s
willin’ I sholy am.”</p>
<p>“Indeed I’d like nothing better,” said Louisa.
“You don’t think I ought to stay here with dad for
awhile, do you, Mr. John?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>“Not a bit of it,” was the reply. “He’s got along
all these years without you and I reckon he’ll be able
to stand it awhile longer. Where is he, anyhow, and
where is Pike?” He looked around the room from
which both of the men were missing.</p>
<p>It was not very many minutes before Cyrus reentered,
but he seemed nervous and in no good humor.
His schemes had gone awry and he was not happy.
Especially was this true after a conversation he had
had outside with Pike, for Pike was in his ugliest
mood and Cyrus did not enjoy a contemplation of
what might result from the day’s doings.</p>
<p>But now Hannah Maria and some of the older
women were busying themselves in offering the refreshments
which Louisa had carefully prepared; great pans
of biscuits, boiled hams, sweet cakes and such dainties
as her father would allow her to provide. “It’s your
last fling,” he had said ungraciously. “I reckon I’ll
hev to let ye cook up somethin’ to keep folks from
talkin’, though I don’t much care what they do say.”
And so Louisa had done her best.</p>
<p>The majority of the company was in high spirits;
even those who had failed to secure such an admirable
helpmeet as Louisa were pleased that Ira should
have been the successful rival, for he was a great
favorite and every one had a good word to say of
him.</p>
<p>“I swow,” said Matt Cochran, “I’d rather see Iry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>
git her than anybody as long as I didn’t git her myself.”</p>
<p>“Iry’s a good feller; he desarves his luck,” piped
up old Billy Jones. “I had my eye on the gal, but
Sally, my darter, told me I’d better be keerful of a red-headed
woman.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t thinkin’ of her head,” said Lew Phelps.
“I was thinkin’ what a powerful handy cook I’d git.
I ain’t never struck more wholesome wittles than what
these air,” he added, his mouth full of biscuits and
ham.</p>
<p>And so the talk went on till night suddenly fell and
the company broke up. Lanterns bobbed about the
lot where men were untying their horses, hoisting
damsels to their places on tough little mustangs, assisting
stout dames to their seats in the family conveyance,
or adjusting some young woman to her saddle
in front of the cavalier with whom she had come.
The shrill laughter of girls, the unrestrained guffaws
of the men, the sleepy wail of some little child, the
stamping horses, the creaking of wheels, all combined
to show how large and popular an entertainment this
had proven to be.</p>
<p>Louisa was the last to leave the house. At the
parting moment she had gone to her father with tears
in her eyes. “Good-bye, dad,” she said. “I’ll come
over to see you soon. I know ye ain’t sorry to part
from me or I’d feel worse about goin’. I wisht I could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>
have married to suit ye, but I’ve got the man I love,
if that’s any consolation to ye. An’ if it does ye any
good to hear it, why I tell ye there ain’t a cloud upon
my sky except that I ain’t pleased ye. Me an’ you
ain’t been so terrible happy; maybe it’s because we
knowed each other too late, but I’d like ye to kiss me
good-bye, fer ye’re the only parent I got and this is my
weddin’ day. I ain’t got no mother, and I’d like to
part from ye without no hard feelin’s.”</p>
<p>Moved by her appeal, the man put his arm awkwardly
around her and gave her a swift kiss, then, as
if ashamed even of this exhibition of feeling, he
pushed her from him. “I ain’t harborin’ no ill feelin’s
to you, Louisy,” he said. “You done yer best. I’d
rather ye’d married Jabez and bed that nice home,
but what’s done’s done. I wish ye luck, yes, I do.”
He pushed her further away and went abruptly into
the house shutting the door after him.</p>
<p>His own horse being too used up for further travel
without a day’s rest, Ira had ridden over on Hero,
John driving the wagon in which were Christine,
Alison, and Lolita, a slower way of proceeding, but
one which accommodated the whole family. It was
proposed that Louisa should occupy a place with the
girls, but Ira, lover-like, insisted that she should be
mounted in front of him.</p>
<p>“Then, if that’s the way you must go, you’d better
take my horse,” said Blythe Van Dorn. “He’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>
heavier than yours, Ira, and will carry double weight;
besides my saddle is better adapted for two.” And so
Blythe mounted Hero and the bridal pair set off, escorted
by their friends.</p>
<p>Over the miles of rough road they jogged along,
making the night ring with laugh and song, and a
fusilade once in a while to give vent to their feelings
and to show in true Texan fashion that something
especial called forth a use of pistols. As they neared
the various ranches one after another dropped out of
the procession and turned toward his own home, till,
by the time the Rosses left the main road, there were
not many to accompany them further. Blythe, who
had stopped to say a word to a departing comrade,
was somewhat in the rear, and singing softly to himself
jogged along at a careless pace.</p>
<p>As the last clump of trees was passed, a man suddenly
sprang out and seized Hero by the bridle. Two
or three pistol shots followed in quick succession and
Blythe fell to the ground, while the man sprang upon
Hero and dashed off down the road as if pursued by
furies.</p>
<p>In an instant every man had wheeled around and
shot after shot rang out upon the still night air.
“After him, boys,” shouted Bud.</p>
<p>“Down with ye, Lou,” said Ira shortly, and as,
without a word, Louisa obeyed, he stooped and gave
her a quick kiss, then putting spurs to his horse he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>
dashed after those who were already giving
chase.</p>
<p>“Here, girls, you’ll have to go on home alone,” said
John as he jumped from the wagon and ran back to
where Blythe lay.</p>
<p>Ira, Bud and two or three others put spurs to their
horses and dashed after the men who had disappeared
in the chaparral. This soon became too dense for
them to penetrate except on foot, but they fired in all
directions and before long, Ira, who was ahead, called
out: “Here’s one of them. It looks like we’d done
for him.” With difficulty the others made their way
to where Ira bent over a prostrate figure. “He’s still
breathing,” he told them. “We’d better carry him
out to the road away from these thorns and briers.”</p>
<p>It was not easy to convey their burden through
the thick underbrush, but they managed to do it, and
when, under the starlit sky, they bent to discover the
man’s features, Bud gave a sharp exclamation. “It’s
old Cy Sparks,” he said.</p>
<p>Hearing his name spoken, the wounded man opened
his eyes and recognized Bud. “Well, boys,” he said
feebly, “I reckon I’m done for this time. Where’s
Pike?”</p>
<p>“Pike? If I’d known it was that low down rascal
I’d a hunted him further,” said Bud.</p>
<p>Cyrus closed his eyes and breathed heavily. After
a moment he looked up again with a dazed expression<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>
and recognized Ira. “You’ve come back,” he said.
“Where’s Lou? Is she safe?”</p>
<p>“She’s gone on with the Ross gals,” Bud told him.
“What was ye up to, anyhow, Cy?” He must settle
this mystery if possible while the opportunity was his.</p>
<p>“We were after the hoss,” said Cyrus with effort.
“We got him once before—— Mebbe you don’t know
that. Pike was bound to hev him—— We’ve hed
dealin’s together oncet or twicet and Pike—he knew—he
threatened to tell if I didn’t go with him to-night.
I was to git the hoss and he meant to kidnap Iry if
he could, but I saw him aim—to kill Iry, ridin’ that
hoss of Steve’s.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t ridin’ thet hoss; it was Blythe Van Dorn,”
said Ira quickly.</p>
<p>“Pike said it was you,” Cyrus went on, “and that
Lou was in the wagon. We always meant to git that
hoss some day but—when I saw—Pike aim to kill
Iry, I struck—up his arm and he—turned—on me and
I—reckon he’s finished me.”</p>
<p>“It was Pike then. You hear that, boys,” said Ira.
“I’m sorry, Cy, I’m sorry fer ye. Ye meant white
by me if ye was on a bad business about the hoss. I
ast yer pardon fer any hard feelin’s.”</p>
<p>“I desarve ’em,” said Cy. “I ain’t been—a good
man—left my wife—and child—come here an’—done
low down—tricks an’ was goin’ ter do—more
of ’em.” He grew weaker and lay breathing painfully<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>
with closed eyes. After a time he whispered
“Louisa.”</p>
<p>“Ole man,” said Ira, “I swar I’ll be good to yer
gal, if that’s what you mean.”</p>
<p>“Don’t—tell—Lou—I was stealin’ the—hoss.”</p>
<p>“No, sir, I’ll not. You understand, boys. This
here’s my wife’s father and I want to keep this here
little transaction quiet.”</p>
<p>“We’ll not peep, Iry, not one of us,” his companions
assured him.</p>
<p>Cyrus put out a feeble hand and Ira clasped it in
his strong ones. “Tell Lou I didn’t mean——” the
breath came shorter, then presently there was a new
effort. “Pike knows—Steve——” And that was the
last word.</p>
<p>It was a subdued and serious group that carried
Cyrus Sparks, now dignified by death, to the nearest
shelter. This happened to be Pedro’s cabin where
Blythe Van Dorn lay wounded badly, but not dangerously
it was hoped. Here John and his sisters, with
Louisa, had attended to the young man’s wounds and
he was fairly comfortable. Ira and his friends laid
their lifeless burden outside on the grass and called
John, telling him of what had happened. Then Ira
faced his next duty. “I’d like to see Lou,” he said.
“John, you send her out to me, and you boys go off
fer a while.” He waited with folded arms till the girl
appeared.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>“You wanted me, Ira?” she said, coming up and
slipping her hand in his.</p>
<p>“Yes, my gal. I’ve got a hard somethin’ to tell
ye.” He drew her close to him. “It seems right
mean that I’ve got such a thing to say on our weddin’
night, but, my gal, that there’s yer dad.” He looked
down at the quiet figure, with face covered, lying
there at their feet.</p>
<p>Louisa gave a startled scream and hid her head on
his breast. Ira stroked her hair gently. “He was
tryin’ to save my life, Lou. He kep’ Pike from
shootin’ what he thought was me on Hero, Steve’s
hoss, an’ Pike turned on him in a rage at bein’ interfered
with. Your dad had time to say a few words
to us. He thought about you an’ spoke your name at
the very last. He knowed he was a-goin’ an’ he died
with his hand in mine. Thar, gal, thar.” Louisa was
shaking with sobs.</p>
<p>“Poor father, poor dad,” she murmured.</p>
<p>“Mebbe he wa’n’t a saint, Lou, but he died tryin’
to save another; I reckon the Marster up in heaven’ll
understan’ thet. Thar’s somethin’ in the good book
about a feller layin’ down his life fer a fren’, ain’t
they? I reckin he’ll git leave to jine yer mother yit.
Lou, my gal, my pore little gal.” And Louisa, with
a sudden sense of a new and beautiful love enfolding
and protecting her, received such comfort as never
before had been hers.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>The next day Cyrus was buried by those who strove
to hide his faults from the world, and who turned
from the lonely grave with reverence and sincere pity,
but who sternly vowed vengeance against his slayer.</p>
<p>Those last words of Cyrus’ brought a gleam of hope
to Christine, but there seemed little chance of there
being more discovered, for, though the men scoured
the country, there was no sign of either Pike or Hero.</p>
<p>Blythe improved slowly, but it was felt that he must
not be moved for the present, therefore Mrs. Van Dorn
was asked to take up her residence, for the time being,
at the Rosses, that she might be near her boy.
Louisa, too, at the urgent request of the girls remained
till Ira should make his home more habitable; therefore
it was a large household, and the days passed
busily enough for all.</p>
<p>A certain question troubled Alison during these
days, and at last she took it to her brother John.
“Do you think all promises ought to be kept?” she
asked. “If one makes a promise which seems right at
the time, but which if broken might help justice, ought
one to keep it a secret?”</p>
<p>“That’s a mighty tough problem,” returned John.
“Can’t you give me a little more of a clue?”</p>
<p>Alison pondered upon the question. “It concerns
Pike Smith,” she said. “I will tell you some things,
John, for I half suspect you know about them. You
know poor old Cyrus Sparks and Pike were the ones<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>
who tried to steal Hero that first time when you were
away. Bud told me that Cyrus had confessed that.”</p>
<p>“Yes, so he did, but he didn’t want Lou to know
it.”</p>
<p>“Lou did know, for he was the man we shot at and
brought in the house, but he made her believe that he
had bought Hero from Steve and that he was only
taking his own. I never half believed that myself,
and I think Louisa doubted it after she knew her
father better. I think Cyrus was bent on getting
Hero; he knew he was a very valuable horse and if
he and Pike could get him they could sell him for a
high figure. I think he and Pike went shares on such
deals, and I shouldn’t wonder if they stole horses all
the time. I don’t know that Cyrus was always with
them when they went on their expeditions, but I
think Pike was an out and out horse thief, and a very
bad man.”</p>
<p>“No doubt of it,” said John.</p>
<p>“Do you think Pike’s only object was to get hold
of Hero the night of the wedding?”</p>
<p>“Not altogether. I think he was crazed by jealousy,
for one thing, and I think he wanted to get Ira
out of the way and took that way to do it. He had
been watching and evidently thought Ira was riding
Hero and that Lou was in the wagon with us, as it was
arranged that way at the first. Pike’s idea was to get
Ira out of the way, if he could, grab the horse, and make<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>
way with it as he did. I have no doubt but that he
thinks he has killed Ira as well as Cyrus, and though
it is not doing him any good, he is satisfied that he has
prevented Ira from winning Lou, so he has gratified
his revenge, as he supposes. We’ve long thought that
he has been working with a band of horse thieves, and
he is no doubt hidden somewhere in the mountains and
will make his way over the border. We have never
been able to prove that he and Cyrus were doing
crooked work but we have thought so.”</p>
<p>“You remember that Cyrus said Pike could tell
about Steve; that is what makes it hard for me to
keep my promise to him.”</p>
<p>“To Pike? You don’t mean to Pike?” John
looked amazed.</p>
<p>“Yes, Pike. Oh, John, I must tell, for Tina’s sake.
Pike followed me one day when I was coming from
Louisa’s. He thought I had a note or something from
her to Ira, and he wanted to get it away from me. I
did have that lock of hair, but he didn’t find it out.
As I said, he followed me and carried me off to a little
old hut in the woods.”</p>
<p>John made a fierce exclamation.</p>
<p>“He didn’t hurt me,” said Alison. “There was an
old woman there who searched me, but you know
what an evil temper Pike has, and I made him angry
so he did mean to keep me prisoner till I showed him
I knew that he had been one of those who tried to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>
steal Hero, and I told him that Bud and some of the
boys were coming to meet me, and I knew they would
track me to the place, so then I promised not to tell
of his having carried me off and to say nothing of his
being with Cyrus that night, and he let me go. He
knew perfectly well he didn’t dare to keep me, for
Bud would be hot on my tracks. I’ve never told any
one anything except that a man followed me and that
I lost my way in consequence.”</p>
<p>“I’d have been fair wild if I had known it,” said
John. “We have been to that hut, but there was not
a sign of any one there.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear.” Alison was disappointed.</p>
<p>“However,” John went on, “this is worth following
up. I’ll not say a word of your share in the matter,
and you were perfectly right to tell no one but me.
If we can find that old woman we may be able to get
something from her that will help us.”</p>
<p>“To find Steve?”</p>
<p>“I was thinking of finding Pike. Why do you say
Steve?”</p>
<p>“I was wondering if Steve might not have been
taken there at some time. I suppose you will say that
is a wild kind of guess, and that it is like a silly girl to
suggest such a thing, but it just came into my head.”</p>
<p>“There might be a clue worth following there,”
said John. “You women folks often jump at a conclusion
that turns out to be the right one, while we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>
men will beat around the bush and never guess the
right thing. Our best plan now is to hunt up that old
woman. What did she look like?”</p>
<p>“She was old, very old, and I remember her name;
it was Brigida.”</p>
<p>“Good! That’s something gained. You’re a smart
little coot, Alison, and if you think of anything more
you’d better come tell me.”</p>
<p>“I wonder if Pedro would know anything of the
woman.”</p>
<p>“He might; that’s worth trying, too.”</p>
<p>“He’s perfectly devoted to us, and I know he would
do all he could to find her out if we wanted her.
That old Sofia that we had here might be looked up;
she is pretty near as old.”</p>
<p>“I believe we’ll get hold of something yet by reason
of your sharp wits,” said John. “I’ll go and
pump old Pedro. I’ve been thinking of turning off
the old fellow and getting two or three darkies on the
place, but I don’t know but I may as well keep him
too.”</p>
<p>“You couldn’t turn him off while Blythe is
there.”</p>
<p>“That’s so.”</p>
<p>“And I am sure Pedro is much more faithful than
any one you could find among the darkies.”</p>
<p>“There’s not much love shown for the greasers
nowadays, you know.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>“Well, I don’t care. Pedro is not like a common
greaser; he is a real gentleman.”</p>
<p>“Especially in his table manners,” returned John
laughing.</p>
<p>“He’s no worse than Bud Haley, and I am sure
Lolita is far above dear old Hannah Maria who looks
down on her.”</p>
<p>“Lolita is something of an anomaly, I admit,” said
John as he left the gallery where the two had been
talking.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII<br>
<small>A CLUE</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">THAT so large a family was quartered at the Ross
ranch caused no special comment. It was the
custom of the country, destitute of wayside inns, and
sparsely settled, for any house to be opened to the
passing traveler, and families often received for any
length of time, those whose circumstances made it
difficult for them to do otherwise than accept such
hospitality as was offered them. In the case of those
congregated at the Ross ranch all were acquainted;
they were neighbors, and were as congenial a party as
could be found in that much mixed country. Mrs.
Van Dorn was a more than usually refined woman
who had come to Texas because of her husband’s ill
health, and after his death had remained because of
her eldest daughter’s marriage to a young Englishman
who had settled in the neighborhood. Both Christine
and Alison enjoyed her gentle presence, and though
she spent most of her time at the bedside of her son,
they appreciated such half hours as she found time to
give them. She was joined often by her daughter,
Laura, a pleasant girl, devoted to Alison and glad of
an excuse to see her often. Louisa, feeling that she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>
was in some measure responsible for Blythe’s plight,
took it upon herself to supply the invalid with dainties,
and not a day passed that she did not bear some covered
dish to the little cabin. The “likely darky from
Ferginny” now reigning in the kitchen, rather resented
Louisa’s claims to being the best cook in the
land, but allowed her full sway in the matter of preparing
dishes for the invalid.</p>
<p>The effort to hunt down Pike Smith proved unavailing,
though an attempt was made to carry out Alison’s
suggestions, and one day John beckoned to his younger
sister and led her to a spot where they could be free
from interruption. “Can you go with me for a ride?”
he said. “We’ve unearthed the old Mexican woman,
Brigida, thanks to Pedro.”</p>
<p>“Good! And have you learned anything from
her?” asked Alison, eagerly.</p>
<p>“Not yet. She professes ignorance on all subjects
connected with Pike Smith. That’s why I want you
to go with me to interview her. One thing we have
learned, though not from her, and that is her son has
been concerned in some horse thieving, and we believe
he belongs to the gang of which Pike was the
leader.”</p>
<p>“That is a good point to know.”</p>
<p>“We think so, too, and though we have no proofs it
will be as well to use our suspicions as facts.”</p>
<p>Alison did not delay in getting ready for her ride.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>
She expected great results, was so sanguine and built
up such possibilities all the way along, that her brother
finally told her that she ran ahead of all reason. “I
believe you expect her to produce Steve from a box
or a bag,” he said, “as if he were a cat or a
hen.”</p>
<p>“I shall not be surprised at anything,” declared Alison
laughing. But when they reached the little adobe
hut matters did not look so promising. At first the
old woman declared that she had never seen Alison
before, that she knew no Americanos and did not wish
to know them. She wished to be left in peace and
could not be disturbed by curious persons asking questions
about what she could not tell.</p>
<p>“But surely you do remember me,” said Alison,
bending down to look into the skinny yellow face and
to catch the expression of the bleary old eyes. “Look
at me well,” she insisted. “Don’t you remember the
little hut where Pike Smith one day brought a young
woman for you to search?”</p>
<p>“No, no.” The woman pushed her away and Alison
looked at her, surprised and chagrined. “The old
wretch,” she said in a whisper to her brother. “John,
suppose you go out of hearing for a few minutes; but
first give me a little money.”</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="p202">
<img class="w100" src="images/p202.jpg" alt="BUT SURELY YOU DO REMEMBER ME">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">“‘BUT SURELY YOU DO REMEMBER ME.’”</p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>“You are right,” said John, “that is a salve that
will often cure poor eyesight.” He slipped a dollar
into her hand and walked away. Alison beckoned the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>old woman to one side, displaying the money as she
did so, and was pleased to see that she followed eagerly.
“You shall have this,” said the girl, in a low
tone, “if you will answer my questions. It does not
matter whether you remember me or not; one often
forgets faces.” She found herself sufficiently fluent
in the use of Spanish to be at no loss for words.
“Now, good mother,” she went on, “please tell me if
I was the only one Pike Smith ever brought to that
hut in the woods. Did he ever bring there a young
man about my brother’s age? My brother is over
there, you see. This young man of whom I speak
was darker than he, and his name was Stephen. It
was about a year ago, a little more, perhaps.”</p>
<p>The woman shook her head, her eye on the money
which Alison held conspicuously. “Tell me this, at
least, was it your home or his?” Alison continued
her questions.</p>
<p>“It was not mine,” Brigida ventured.</p>
<p>“Then it must have been his. Can you not tell me
something of this man, Smith?”</p>
<p>Brigida would not inform upon him; he had been
good to her.</p>
<p>“Then he must have had some reason for being so,”
Alison said conclusively. “I have no doubt he spared
that son of yours, and he probably threatened you to
expose him if you did not keep silence about those doings
of his.” She kept her eye upon the old woman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>
and saw that the shot told. “Now we know all about
that son of yours,” she added.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, no, señorita,” began Brigida, beginning to
show signs of alarm.</p>
<p>“Do not be afraid,” said Alison soothingly. “Now,
if Pike Smith threatened to expose your son in case
you did not do his bidding, I can understand why you
are not anxious to remember me. But, my good
Brigida, if you are not willing to answer a few questions,
which can do neither you nor your son harm, I
am afraid it will be the worse for your son. My
brother and his friends are very determined and they
have discovered things which are not to the credit of
those you are trying to shield. I happen to know who
it was that was with Pike Smith when he came to our
ranch last fall to steal our horses; it was the night
that Cyrus Sparks was hurt, you may remember, and
if I were to use that knowledge against your son it
would go hard with him.” Alison jumped at her
conclusions, but she saw that she was making an impression.
“If I were to identify your son,” she went
on, “and if my brother and his friends were to use the
information they possess, I think you will be sorry
that you did not answer the few harmless questions
that I wish to ask you. Cannot you see that it would
be much better if you were to tell me what I want to
know and allow me to use my own discretion in repeating
it? I promise to tell only so much as may be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>
of benefit to us and will screen your son, so that his
name shall not appear at all. You shall have this dollar,
too. Pike Smith will never dare to show his face
on this side the border, that you well know, and can
do you no injury whatever you may say.”</p>
<p>Brigida twisted her knotty old hands together helplessly.
She had sworn not to tell anything that went
on in the small hut, and what would the padre say if
she confessed to having broken her vow?</p>
<p>“But the padre will forgive you,” Alison went on.
“If you show him that it was necessary for you to
break your promise in order to shield your son, he will
forgive you.</p>
<p>“Which would be better, Brigida, to protect your son
or that wicked man? The padre will understand and
because you are a mother he will forgive you; otherwise
think what will be the fate of your son.”</p>
<p>Brigida groaned, but drew Alison further away
from the blank adobe wall.</p>
<p>“It is true, señorita,” she said; “there were more
than one brought to that place, not any other woman
but yourself, though there were men, yes, some to be
buried in the woods, some to be sent out of the country.
I remember one Americano who may perhaps
be the young man you seek. It was a little more
than a year ago. They had tried to get his horse,
but the creature escaped and Pike Smith was much
angered, for the horse was a fine one; he was very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>
anxious to get it. I heard them say that the horse
got away, for that it had as much sense as a human
being.”</p>
<p>Alison gave an eager exclamation. “Was it a coal
black horse, young, and cleanly cut, with fine head
and mettlesome spirit?”</p>
<p>“I cannot tell, señorita, for I did not see the beast,
but the young man was brought to the hut much
bruised. He lay there for a day and then he was
taken away, I know not where.”</p>
<p>“It must have been Steve; I am sure it must have
been,” said Alison with conviction. “Describe him to
me, good Brigida and you shall have more than my
thanks.”</p>
<p>“He was of your brother’s size, but dark, as you
said. I did not learn his name, for I do not speak the
language of the Americanos.”</p>
<p>“You have no idea where they took him?”</p>
<p>“I was not allowed to ask questions, and Señor
Smith did not converse in my own language to my
son, who knows the Americano well.”</p>
<p>“Oh, if I could but see your son. Would it not be
possible?” asked Alison imploringly.</p>
<p>Brigida shook her head. “No, no, señorita, I can
tell you nothing of him. I would not if I could, for
even now I must warn him. It is only because
I believe you are true and will not harm an old
woman and her only child I have told you what I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>
know about your friend. The rest would do you no
good.”</p>
<p>“But have you no idea where they took him?
That is all I shall ask you. I can see that anything
more would be of no value to me. If you can but tell
me where they took him, this dollar with two more
shall be yours, and I will promise you on my honor to
try to prevent them from seeking your son as they are
intending to do. If you know where they took the
young man, tell me, Brigida. He was to have
married my sister, my dear sweet sister who has
waited and mourned all these months, dreading to hear
of his death yet hoping he may still be alive. You
were once young yourself, Brigida, and if the young
father of your son had been spirited away and you had
not known whether he was dead or alive would not
the world have been a dolorous place to you? Tell
me where they have taken him for the sake of my
sister of the breaking heart.”</p>
<p>“Ah, señorita, I wish I might give you good news,
but I fear there is none for you. I heard them say
that they would take him across the border when they
carried their horses; and it was then war time. They
may have left him to be taken by some band of Indians,
or they may have given him to our own soldiers.
I do not know; I only know they did not mean he
should return.”</p>
<p>“But why spare him at all? I do not see why Pike<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>
Smith should stand at killing him outright. He had
no conscience and did not hesitate to kill poor old
Cyrus Sparks.”</p>
<p>“Ah yes, señorita, it was that old man who would
not permit bloodshed. He was in company with Señor
Smith in this expedition and demanded that the young
man should not die here, but should be sent from the
country.”</p>
<p>“That is a good word from poor old Cyrus,” said
Alison. “Well, Brigida, there is hope, and there is not
hope. I thank you very much for telling me this. I
will go to my brother at once and get you the rest of
the money. Take this.” She slipped her coin into the
woman’s hand and returned to her brother, who was
waiting impatiently.</p>
<p>“Well, what luck?” he asked eagerly.</p>
<p>“I have learned a great deal, but I must have two
more dollars at once, and then I will come back and
tell you. I think my information is worth the
money.”</p>
<p>“Then I cheerfully give it,” said John diving down
into his pocket and producing the silver which Alison
promptly placed in the old woman’s hands, returning
to mount her horse and to pour forth her tale into her
brother’s attentive ears, though she allowed no reference
to Brigida’s son to escape her.</p>
<p>“Well,” exclaimed John, when she had finished,
“that is well worth knowing, though what I can’t see<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>
is why Pike didn’t get Steve out of the way for once
and all instead of packing him over the border.”</p>
<p>“I suppose Cyrus had his say in the matter. You
see they were in cohoots, and no doubt, each being in
the other’s power, everything had to be agreed upon
unanimously, or else the one who differed felt that he
might be informed upon.”</p>
<p>“I think that is quite true. I suppose you didn’t
learn anything of the Mexican, who it is believed was
the third one of the gang.”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t know a thing about him. If he is
Brigida’s son she took precious good care not to let me
know his whereabouts. I had to scare her nearly to
death before I could get a word out of her, and it was
only by pretending to know much more than I did
that I found out anything at all. Evidently the old
woman had been made to take a solemn vow not to
disclose anything that went on under her observation,
and I think, even now, she is in deadly fear that
something will happen to her; that was why I had to
give her the extra money, so she could pay it to the
priest. What do you think, John? Is there any
hope of Steve’s being alive?”</p>
<p>“Of course there is hope. Now that we know he
was taken over the border we may expect almost anything
fortunate may have happened.”</p>
<p>“But why hasn’t he tried to come back, if he is safe,
or why has he not written a single line? He should<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>
know that we, especially Christine, must be anxious.”</p>
<p>“I cannot say why. In war times communication
is not easy. He may be in some out-of-the-way place
from which it is impossible for him either to escape or
to send a message. When the war is over we can begin
to look for him.” Yet, in spite of this cheerful attitude,
John felt that there was very little expectation
of Stephen’s return, and in this opinion most of his
friends concurred.</p>
<p>Christine, however, caught at this last straw of
hope, saying, when Alison related her story, “And
he was alive while I was mourning him as dead, so
why should he not be living now? For the first time,
Alison, I have a real hope that he will come back.
Oh, why did we not know this when Cyrus Sparks
was alive? I cannot forgive him for keeping silence
when he knew how terrible it was for us to have found
Steve missing.”</p>
<p>“You could not expect him to tell of a thing so
much to his own discredit. You know what would
have happened if it had been known that he belonged
to a gang of horse thieves.”</p>
<p>“He might have found some way of letting us know
without implicating himself.”</p>
<p>“I don’t see how he could, for if Steve had come
back it would have been all up with Cyrus and Pike.”</p>
<p>“I see, I see,” sighed Christine. “Well, little sister,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>
you have brought me some good news, anyhow, and I
thank you for it. How did John happen to take you
to see that old woman?”</p>
<p>“Because I can speak tolerable Spanish. You see
what an immense advantage my acquaintance with
Lolita has been,” said Alison, laughing.</p>
<p>“I am sure I never objected to it greatly. It is Ira
and Neal and the Haleys who despise the Mexicans.”</p>
<p>“If they were all like Lolita I should think them
very foolish, but those I have seen to-day are certainly
not descended from blue-blood dons, or if they are
they have deteriorated.”</p>
<p>“I wish I could see that old woman and could talk
to her,” said Christine, striking her hands impatiently
together. “I would ask her a thousand questions
about Steve. Oh, Alison, to think that he was so near
and we did not know it. I am fairly wild when I think
of it. Now where is he? Ah, if I but knew, if I but
knew.”</p>
<p>“Never mind, dear, it will come out well yet; mark
my words. See, there comes Mrs. Van Dorn.”</p>
<p>“My bonny laddie is sleeping quietly,” said Blythe’s
mother, as she came up to the gallery where the girls
were sitting; “and as he does not need me I thought
I would join you for a while,” she added. “I left
Louisa in charge and she has promised to let me know
when he wakens. What a dear, good, cheerful creature
she is, and that big rough husband of hers is my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>
delight. Isn’t it strange, girls, upon what a different
plane one is willing to place oneself down here?
Now at home, any one who murdered the king’s English
and who lived as most of our neighbors do, would
be considered impossible.”</p>
<p>“Alison and I have often spoken of that,” said
Christine. “Look at dear old Hannah Maria Haley
for example.”</p>
<p>“That is another peculiarity; every one here is old
so and so. If it is a boy of eighteen who happens to
be married, or a young woman of twenty-five who
isn’t married, they are spoken of as old. Now Hannah
Maria cannot be over thirty, yet everybody calls
her ‘Old’ Hannah Maria.”</p>
<p>“I suppose it is because she is so fat and motherly,”
suggested Alison. “She certainly is the best old
soul.”</p>
<p>“There you go again,” laughed Mrs. Van Dorn.
“It is a pity she has no children of her own to
mother.”</p>
<p>“But what would the neighborhood do without
her?” said Christine. “She is the dependence of
everybody in trouble.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and after all, what a higgledy-piggledy house
hers would be in which to rear children; chickens,
hounds, cats, and sometimes even pigs, running in and
out and no care at all for neatness and order.”</p>
<p>“It is so in lots of places,” Alison remarked.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>“So it is. I thought when we first came down here
that the household arrangements in the few places
where we stopped must be the exception, but they are
certainly the rule. I have seen as many as three beds
in the main room where everything went on, cooking,
sleeping and eating. It seemed perfectly dreadful to
me then, but I found it was a matter of pride to set up
as many beds as possible, the more beds, the more
generous the accommodations, and I actually came to
it myself when I found that I was expected to entertain
any casual wayfarer who happened to want
lodging.”</p>
<p>“I shall never forget what a delightful surprise
your house was to us,” said Alison. “After staying
at Hannah Maria’s it seemed a palace. I don’t see
why so many want to live in such a lop-lolly way.
John told us a great deal about it before we came and
we stipulated for several things. We were determined
to have our own milch cows, for one thing, so we
could have good butter.”</p>
<p>“Such butter as they give you!” ejaculated Mrs.
Van Dorn.</p>
<p>“Then we were bent upon having a good tight
house. Half of them are open to the gallery, and
when there comes a norther the way the wind sweeps
through that great triangular space is a caution.”</p>
<p>“They complain that lumber is so scarce.”</p>
<p>“And three sawmills within ten miles. We inquired<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>
into that and John built our house accordingly.
It is not a very showy affair but we think it fairly
comfortable.”</p>
<p>“It is a mansion compared to the Haleys’, and is
very comfortable.”</p>
<p>“Of course there must be a place provided for every
Tom, Dick, and Harry to sleep, but they usually want
no more than a corner of the gallery and a blanket,
and since John has added the man’s room, even in
winter we can accommodate a good many. For ourselves
we have an unusual arrangement of two bedrooms
up-stairs, though they are pretty hot in summer,
and I think now it was a mistake not to have all the
rooms on the first floor. It will come to a bed in the
living-room yet, I think.”</p>
<p>“Another thing that we were quite set upon,” said
Alison, “was good, wholesome food. I think I should
die of indigestion if I were obliged to live on what
they consider sufficient down here. They don’t live
so in other parts of the South.”</p>
<p>“They certainly do in Arkansas and parts of Missouri,”
said Mrs. Van Dorn; “I cannot speak from
experience of the other states.”</p>
<p>“We can. At home we always had good light pone,
and I don’t see why they shouldn’t have it here. Eggs
are plentiful and so is milk, if one chooses to take a
little trouble about it. Is it laziness or ignorance that
is the trouble?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>“A little of both, I think. At first it was a hard
life for the pioneers, as it must always be for them, so
the easiest way was the best way and still continues
to be, though the country is so rapidly filling up.
Where is your brother, girls?”</p>
<p>“Gone to a negro hiring at the county house. He
needs more hands on the place, for he is continually
increasing his stock,” Christine told her friend. “We
shall have quite a big rancho if we continue to extend
our bounds. Ours has been only a hacienda till lately.
I never used to know the difference between that and
a rancho.”</p>
<p>“And what is the difference?”</p>
<p>“One is simply a country residence, a farm proper;
the other is strictly a stock farm. By the way, have
you heard that Louisa is to inherit her father’s property
and that it is decided she and Ira will live on the
nearer place instead of going to Ira’s claim which is
twenty miles away? We are so pleased that we shall
have them near. One of John’s errands to-day was to
go with Ira to settle up Lou’s law matters. They
think there will be no difficulty, although it is generally
thought that old Cyrus obtained his money in
rather a questionable way; but there are no proofs.
It is certain that Louisa is his legal heiress and he
acknowledged her as such. She wrote to my aunt for
certain facts to prove her identity, so we think all will
be settled without delay.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>“I am glad to hear it. There comes the young
woman now. My boy must be awake,” said Mrs. Van
Dorn, slipping her knitting into its bag and going
forth.</p>
<p>“What a nice mother-in-law she will make,” said
Christine, looking after her.</p>
<p>“Then why don’t you set your cap for Blythe?”
asked Alison flippantly.</p>
<p>“You know why,” replied Christine, gravely. And
Alison, at this reproof, ran down the path to join
Louisa.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII<br>
<small>NEAL’S LETTER</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">BEFORE the middle of November the armistice of
Monterey was ended and a little later General
Worth took possession of Saltillo. By the 9th of
March, General Scott, who was now in chief command
of all the forces in Mexico, had conducted an
expedition against Vera Cruz, and had landed an army
of thirteen thousand men at a point near that place.
In the meantime General Taylor had posted his army
in a strong position at Buena Vista, and, after fierce
fighting, had repulsed the enemy. Then began the
memorable march upon the City of Mexico, during
which the towns of Jalapa, and Perote with its fortress
upon the summit of the Cordilleras, were surrendered,
and Puebla, that ancient walled and fortified
city, the third of importance in Mexico, was entered,
in triumph.</p>
<p>From this place came a characteristic letter from
Neal Jordan to his friends. “We have had some tall
fighting,” he wrote, “and there promises to be more
of the same variety before we get to Mexico.” He
then gave them a short, graphic description of the
battle in which he had lately taken part, and closed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>
by saying: “I wish some of you-all would write to
me. Tell one of the girls I’ll bring her something
pretty from Mexico if she will sit down and write me
a real good letter and tell me what you-all are doing
these days. I’ve not heard a word since John left
and that seems a long time ago. I’d be glad to-day
to see even an old hound dog if he came from any of
you, and I ain’t sure but what I’d hug him.”</p>
<p>“That sounds just like Neal,” said Alison. “Tina,
you must write to him.”</p>
<p>“Why must I any more than you?”</p>
<p>“Oh, because you are the older.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense, you have less to do, and you never mind
writing.”</p>
<p>“To be sure there is no lack of news,” said Alison,
thoughtfully. “But I should think you would like to
write to him when he is so eager to hear from us; it’s
quite pathetic.”</p>
<p>“If you feel that way you’d better go right to work
and send him a budget. I am in no humor for it.”</p>
<p>Therefore it was Alison who spent an entire afternoon
in covering pages to send to Neal. A newsy,
cheery letter it was, girlishly full of underscored words
and enthusiastic accounts of what had happened in the
past months since he left them. Details concerning
home matters and certain favorite animals were not
overlooked, and the frank, unstudied epistle warmed
the heart of the young Texan Ranger, and made him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>
so preoccupied as to bring upon him the mocking
laughter of his comrades. More than once during the
days which followed he took out the letter and read
it over, lingering upon the last words: “Here’s love
from us all. May you come back safe to John, Christine
and Alison.”</p>
<p>“I might have said ‘your friends, John, Christine
and Alison,’” said the girl as she read over the lines;
“that might have sounded better, but I cannot rewrite
it, so it will have to go as it is.”</p>
<p>“What, haven’t you finished that letter yet?”
asked Christine, coming in as Alison was folding the
sheet. “I wanted you to see about getting some milk
for supper.”</p>
<p>“I have just finished, and my fingers fairly ache
from holding a pen so long. I wonder if I shall be
able to milk. I will get Lolita to help me, I think.
You may read my letter if you like. I think I have
made it a fairly interesting one. Don’t seal it yet; I
want to put something in it.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Oh, a funny picture Blythe drew of you and me
going out to milk. It will amuse Neal.”</p>
<p>Blythe had long since departed to his own home,
having been, during the last weeks of his convalescence,
under the same roof with his mother and the
Ross family. Many an hour the girls spent in amusing
him, and they had all been on such intimate terms<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>
that Blythe, who had quite a gift for caricature, used
many of his idle moments in making entertaining pictures
of the different members of the family going
about their various employments. It was one of these
Alison enclosed to Neal. It was sufficiently like to
bring the two girls very vividly before the young man,
but his memory went beyond the suggestion and saw
them as they really were, Christine with sensitive,
delicate features, trim figure, and with bands of sleek
hair parted above her smooth forehead; Alison tall,
slender, girlishly young, her hair inclined to be rebellious,
eyes honest and fearless, eyebrows a little
darker than her hair, and raised a trifle at the inner
corners, giving her a look of innocent surprise, mouth
not too small, and often smiling. The casual observer
would have called Christine, with her regular features,
the prettier, but in Alison’s expressive face her friends
found a greater charm.</p>
<p>Leaving Christine to read the letter she danced out
of the door and called Lolita who, nothing loath, assisted
in the milking which was by no means an ordinary
process. Around the small pen, where a few
calves were kept, gathered the anxious and eager
mothers who lowed soft encouragement to their impatient
babies, restlessly running up and down behind
the rails. As Alison let down the bars one after another
of the cows lumbered in, while the girl kept up
a constant talk: “There now, Daffy, you are in too<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>
much of a hurry. So now, Bess, that’s not your calf.
Look out, Brindle, you are not to treat me with such
disrespect; if you don’t look out I shall be run over,
you clumsy thing.” As soon as the calves had fairly
commenced their evening meal, Alison, with a deft
swing of a lasso, encircled the horns of one of the
cows, and Lolita made the other end of the rope fast
to the neck of the calf, who was thus drawn beyond
reach of the source of supply. Alison then speedily
milked about a pint into the earthen vessel she held,
after which the yearning calf was allowed to wriggle
back to its mother. This process was repeated till
each cow had contributed her proper amount of milk
for the needs of the family, each supply being separately
conveyed to a bucket set outside the fence.
This method, generally employed upon the ranchos,
was one against which Alison constantly inveighed,
so that her brother promised if possible he would have
a cow specially “gentled” for her, although a Texas
cow was not willing to stand until her calf had been
allowed to receive a first share of her milk.</p>
<p>John’s stock had now greatly increased and his
rancho was becoming one of the most prosperous ones
in the county. To be sure, his neighbors complained
that he was too energetic, and that he would never
hold out at the rate he had begun. Moreover he was
thought to be a trifle particular in his conduct, and his
sisters were sometimes called “stuck up,” yet this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>
was simply because they were not content to be shiftless,
and despised the makeshifts which were considered
good enough by most of their neighbors. “I
cannot see,” said Christine, to whose ears some of
these reports had come, “why we are considered to
hold our heads so high simply because our gate is on
its hinges and because we have light bread when we
can get it. I suppose we ought to tie the gate together
with a bit of rope and disdain flour.”</p>
<p>“One would think that with so old a civilization as
Mexico’s,” said John, “this part of the country ought
to be far ahead of the other states, but though we are
spared many of the experiences of other pioneers who
have gone into the actual wilderness, we have to overcome
traditions and replace indolence with energy before
we can develop as we should. Texas will be a
rough country for many a year, but she will work out
of that and into a greater refinement in time. She is
too much the refuge for outlaws, and offers too great
inducements to those who want to live an irresponsible
life for her to attain to great heights at once; we must
give her time, Tina.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’ll give her all the time she wants, so far as I
am concerned, so long as I am not interfered with, but
I must say I do not care to be criticised for maintaining
mere respectability.”</p>
<p>John laughed. “Just jog along your own gait,
child; that’s what I mean to do. Let them talk; who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>
cares? Don’t you suppose we are respected if we are
criticised? All I care for is to do my duty and to
make the best of my opportunities.”</p>
<p>“And I am sure,” Alison put in, “it is something to
be an example, and that we are to more than one. I
am sure Ira takes you for a model and Lolita imitates
us so far as she is able.”</p>
<p>“That’s the way to talk,” returned John.</p>
<p>Ira and Louisa were now happily settled in their
home where Ira was dutifully “gittin’ broke in,” as
he expressed it, and if he “bucked” once in a while it
was because he wasn’t “used to being driven double.”
He would get down to his paces in time, he promised,
and in fact it was his best intention to take John as an
example. He had so far succeeded as to make the old
Sparks place look fairly well. To be sure the capable
Louisa’s hand showed in the appearance of the house
and its immediate surroundings, but, since Ira was inexperienced
rather than lazy, it was supposed that in
time he would respond to the expectations of so good
a wife, whose favorite song of the chirping cricket he
might hope to hear for many a day by his own fireside.</p>
<p>As a natural consequence of Blythe’s long illness
when he was the object of their mutual concern, a
greater intimacy had been formed between the Rosses
and the Van Dorns. Nearly every day Blythe rode
over to see his friends, and at least once a week the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>
Rosses accompanied him home for an afternoon with
his mother and sisters. Christine had found in Ellen
Wilkinson a congenial companion, while John had
taken a fancy to the straightforward young Englishman,
her husband. As for Alison she was always
ready to tease Blythe or to exchange girlish confidences
with Laura.</p>
<p>One afternoon in May Alison and Christine started
over to the Van Dorns’. It was warm, sunny weather
and the girls rode slowly, Alison mounted upon Chico
and Christine upon another little mustang which her
brother had given her in place of Hero, whose loss she
still mourned. “We may as well stop and have a
word with Hannah Maria,” said Alison, as they drew
near the line of worm fence which partly surrounded
Bud’s property. “She never will forgive us if we
pass her by, for you know she will be sure to see us.”</p>
<p>Christine agreed and they turned towards the house.
Hannah Maria’s dun-colored sunbonnet was visible before
they reached the gate, which hung by one hinge
and had to be lifted and set back in place each time it
was opened. It was a peculiarity of Hannah Maria’s
that her every-day costume was always of an indefinite
dust color, and that she blazed forth royally only
on high days and holidays. An odd dun-colored
calico always clothed her plump form, and her sunbonnet
was of the same piece. Where she managed to
secure just this shade of brown was always a mystery<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>
to the girls. It matched her hair which was invariably
wisped up in a tight knot at the back of her head. As
usual she was sitting on the door-step occupied with
her snuff stick, for she shared the habit of many of her
neighbors who were devoted to the practice known as
rubbing snuff. In a weedy flower-bed under the window
several hens had scratched hollows in which they
were comfortably resting; three cats were curled up
asleep on a bench; a couple of hounds stretched their
lank lengths upon the gallery floor. Alison, with her
whip, poked a curly-tailed piglet which lay across her
path, and which went off with a resentful squeal at being
thus ruthlessly routed.</p>
<p>Hannah Maria looked up from the shade of her sunbonnet
as the girls came up. “Now I just knew somebody’d
come this afternoon,” she said, giving a slap to
the hound which, roused by the intruders, began to
growl. “Quit that, Pete, don’t you know yer friends
when ye see ’em?” she interjected. “Come up, gals.
I reckon it’s cooler on the gallery, but I always set on
the steps when I’m by myself; it seems as if it wasn’t
so lonesome and then I don’t miss anybody goin’ by.
You’ll stay an’ take supper, won’t ye?”</p>
<p>“We promised the Van Dorns that we would be
there,” Christine told her as she sat down on the end
of the bench unoccupied by the cats. “How are you
all, Hannah Maria?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Tollable, Tiny, jest tollable. Bud had a misery in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>
his haid this mornin’ an’ I got the indisgesting or
somethin’. I wisht you’d stay; Bud’ll be real put out.”</p>
<p>“Where is Bud?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know; he’s round somewhars. Seems
to me he said he was goin’ to Lon’s; mebbe he didn’t
go. I’ll call him. Bud, oh, Bud!” she shrilled out,
without moving from her place.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you warm in that sunbonnet, Hannah
Maria?” asked Alison, taking off her hat and fanning
herself with it.</p>
<p>“Law, I don’t know. It keeps the sun outen my
eyes; that’s why I w’ar it so constant.” Certainly it
was not to save her complexion, thought Alison, for
that was of an unhealthy sallowness and Hannah
Maria continually complained of “indisgesting.” “I
suppose you-all ain’t got ary news,” said she, replacing
her snuff stick in the corner of her mouth.</p>
<p>“No, except that we have had a letter from Neal,”
Alison answered.</p>
<p>“Law, did you ever?”</p>
<p>“Hadn’t you heard that? I thought John would
have told Bud.”</p>
<p>“Well, he didn’t, not that I’ve heard of. Ain’t thet
jest like a man? What did Neal hev to say? I declar’
I’m glad you came. My nose been a-eetchin’ all
day.” She put up her hand to that small snub member
to give it a vigorous rubbing. “Did ye bring the
letter along?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>“No, John has it. I can tell you what was in
it,” said Alison, and she gave an outline of Neal’s
news.</p>
<p>“He’s a real nice feller,” said Hannah Maria approvingly.
“I wisht he’d pick out some good gal
when he gits back. I wonder how Laury Van Dorn
would suit him, but then I reckon he’d be cuttin’ out
John if he took her. I was jest settin’ here a-thinkin’
how nice it would be fer Allie to take Blythe and
Johnny to hev Laury so they could hev a double
weddin’. We ain’t never had a double weddin’ about
hyar. When John and Laury goin’ to fix it up?”</p>
<p>“Why, I am sure I don’t know that they ever will,”
said Alison. “John likes Laura; so do we all, but I
don’t think he has any idea of getting married.”</p>
<p>“Well, I certainly do like to see young folks git
jined,” drawled Hannah Maria sentimentally. “I like
to watch ’em smilin’ at each other like they was happy
as turkle-doves. Now whar was it you tol’ me Neal
was? I declar’ I fergit.”</p>
<p>“At Puebla,” replied Christine. “They seem to be
taking a rest there, and John says the men deserve it
after all they have done in two months. They have
captured as large a number of prisoners as they have
men in their own army, and have taken many of the
most strongly fortified places on the continent. Next
thing they will be in Mexico.”</p>
<p>“That they will,” broke in Alison, “and Neal will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>
bring me something from there because I was the one
who answered his letter.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that is why you wrote, was it?” said Christine.
“Loaves and fishes, was it? I thought you did
not seem averse to the task.”</p>
<p>Alison laughed. “That is where I got ahead of
you.”</p>
<p>“He will bring me something, too,” said Christine.
“See if he doesn’t.”</p>
<p>“Oh, of course,” pouted Alison; “you think that
because you are the older.”</p>
<p>“You’re taller than Tiny, now,” said Hannah Maria.
“You certainly have shot up mightily in the past year.
It’s been that sence Neal lef’, ain’t it?”</p>
<p>“It is just about a year; he left with John.”</p>
<p>“So he did. Reub and Iry went ahead of ’em, I
remember. Well, I’m sure I hope they’ll git back
safe. You ain’t a-goin’?”</p>
<p>The girls insisted that they could not stay longer
and in spite of Hannah Maria’s protests, took their
departure, leaving the good soul still sitting on the
step comfortably rubbing snuff, the hounds which had
moved at the leave-taking again dropping down heavily
on the floor, and the piglet complacently grunting
in a mud-hole by the gate.</p>
<p>By contrast to the Haleys’ the Van Dorns’ neat
house seemed doubly attractive. The gallery here was
enclosed by slatted shutters which protected it from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>
the sun, providing a cool and pleasant retreat. One
of Blythe’s dogs lay outside, but after lifting his head
and perceiving friends he simply thwacked his tail
upon the step and went to sleep again. The fence
here kept out all visiting hens, and the little garden
smiled in its luxuriance of bloom. Vines clambered
over the house, and a huge oak at a little distance
rustled pleasantly and cast long shadows across the
grass. From its thick foliage a mocking-bird sent
forth a few liquid notes, for the day’s heat was
over and the darkness, which in this latitude shut
down suddenly, would soon invite the night bird’s
song.</p>
<p>Mrs. Van Dorn and Laura were sitting in the gallery,
work-baskets by their sides. Both looked restfully
cool and content. Laura’s neat muslin gown was
fresh and crisp; a tidy little apron protected it. Her
brown hair was smoothly arranged and when she lifted
her clear gray eyes to see who entered, a smile broke
over her face which made her fairly pretty. Every
one said that Laura’s smile was her greatest charm and
indeed it did so light up an otherwise rather plain face
that one forgot her nose was large, her complexion far
from good and her chin sharp.</p>
<p>“You did get here,” she said, jumping up and coming
forward. “I told Blythe you had promised.
Where is he? Putting up the horses?”</p>
<p>“No; we staked them out ourselves.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>“Why, didn’t he meet you? He said he was going
over for you.”</p>
<p>“We stopped at Hannah Maria’s for a few minutes,
and that is how he must have missed us.”</p>
<p>“Too bad,” said Mrs. Van Dorn. “I am sorry you
missed an escort. Come in, girls, and cool off. Ellen
will be here in a minute, Christine. Isn’t it real summer
weather to-day? I suppose at home the roses are
only beginning to bloom, and see what an array of
flowers we have for May. The prairie is fairly carpeted.
Did Hannah Maria have any gossip for you?”</p>
<p>“No. She appeared to be in rather a pensive
mood,” said Christine. “I often wonder what she
thinks about as she sits there by the hour with her
snuff stick.”</p>
<p>“Such an unpleasant habit,” remarked Mrs. Van
Dorn. “I never knew any one addicted to it till I
came down here, and as for the way men use tobacco
it is simply beyond expression. Henry was actually
forced to build a man’s room and a separate gallery,
for we could not give up this one; it would not have
been decent at the end of a week. How do you stand
it?”</p>
<p>“We don’t have much trouble,” said Christine.
“The men generally stay out of doors in summer and
in winter they take themselves to the man’s room, so
only our particular acquaintances expect to be received
in the gallery. Ah, there comes Ellen. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>
want to see her chickens.” And Christine joined
Mrs. Wilkinson in the yard. The lot surrounding the
house was penned off into small and large enclosures,
shaded by trees; a vegetable garden was in the
height of its glory, and in the chicken yard clucked
and cackled so large a number of hens as spoke well
for the family supply of eggs and poultry.</p>
<p>“I can’t see why Blythe doesn’t come,” said Mrs.
Van Dorn to Alison. “I am sure he has had time to
go and come back.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps he, too, stopped at the Haleys’,” said
Alison. “Hannah Maria would not let him go by if
she could help it.”</p>
<p>“That is quite true.” So this was accepted as the
excuse for Blythe’s absence, although supper was on
the table and all were ready to sit down before the
young man appeared with John.</p>
<p>“I met Blythe just as he was coming away from our
place,” said John, “and he persuaded me to ride back
with him.”</p>
<p>Blythe looked embarrassed and murmured something
about its being too warm to ride very fast, but
it was not till later in the evening that Alison discovered
the cause of his tardy appearance.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV<br>
<small>WHY BLYTHE WAS LATE</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">WHEN Blythe started forth on that summer day
it was with all good and dutiful intention to
call for Christine and Alison and duly escort them to
his home, and he took pleasure in the errand although
of late his ardor had somewhat abated in Alison’s direction,
a fact which he did not confess to himself and
would have repudiated had he been charged with it.
The young man was now twenty-one, entirely a marriageable
age in that southern country where eighteen
was none too young for a man to marry and where
girls of fifteen were often wives. At twenty-five John
Ross and Neal Jordan were considered quite old bachelors.
Blythe had paid court to Alison from the time
of his arrival in the neighborhood, but had been
treated as a mere comrade by the girl. During the
period of his enforced stay in Pedro’s little cabin when
his mother was established under the Rosses’ roof, he
began to weary a little of hearing Alison’s praises
sung constantly by his mother and sisters, and finally,
in that spirit of contradiction which is so very human,
he wished that they could find her less desirable.
What a young man’s family are eager for him to possess<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>
seldom seems attractive to him, however much he
may have thought of the object in the first place.
And so because every one said what an admirable wife
Alison Boss would make for Blythe Van Dorn, he
began to wonder if she would. Nevertheless he did
not cease his attentions and always enjoyed being in
her company, while she, never sentimentally inclined,
had no disposition to alter their relation.</p>
<p>Blythe pondered over the situation as he rode slowly
along. There was no other girl whom he had met
who was so well suited to be his wife, he was obliged
to admit, yet while he gravely considered the question
of trying his fate, ever and anon in place of her merry
face came a more serious one, Madonna-like in its
beauty, a pair of wonderful dark eyes shaded by long
lashes looked into his, and a gently anxious voice said
in hesitating English: “You are better, señor?”
He persistently put away the image and as persistently
it recurred. He recalled days of dull pain when
the only pleasures were his mother’s presence and the
fleeting vision of that beautiful, serious face appearing
once in a while at the door. Later on, when only the
languor and weariness of convalescence possessed
him, little Lolita sometimes sat an hour with him
while his mother took her meals, and then he found
pleasure in watching the fringe of eyelash droop over
the clear pallor of the cheek, and the grave red lips
curve into a smile at some word of his. The pretty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>
hesitating English, too, amused him and at last became
truly fascinating, more so than Alison’s direct speech.</p>
<p>Yet anything more than a passing interest in
pretty Lolita never entered the lad’s mind, and when
he finally returned to his own home it was with no
regret, though up to the last he could not resist making
pretty speeches for the sake of the drooping lids and
the sudden smile. Therefore it was no great disappointment
to him when, upon reaching the Rosses’
rancho, he found that Christine and Alison had departed.
Without inquiring into his motive he turned
his horse towards Pedro’s cabin; it was silent and deserted.
In the fields beyond he saw Pedro with the
negro hands John had lately employed.</p>
<p>Blythe looked up and down at the closed door,
at the window, half open, in which stood a pot of
flowers. “Lolita,” he called softly, hoping to see
the lovely face appear at door or window. But the
silence continued. The whir of insects in the grass,
the note of a bird, the laugh of one of the negroes
working in the corn-field, alone broke the stillness.
The young man turned himself towards the flowery
stretch of prairie, his eyes seeking for some moving
object. Was it the flowers stirred by the wind or did
he see afar off some one stooping then rising? He let
his horse fall into a walk and followed the road till he
came abreast of the bending figure. Then he perceived
a dark head against the background of mottled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>
red and pink and purple. A figure in the loose white
costume worn by the Mexican women was moving
towards the small bayou where the magnolia-trees
were at the last of their bloom, sending forth a delicate
odor from their large white blossoms. Lolita
was making her way towards one tree in particular;
her hands were already full of flowers, but these she
laid down on a stone near by.</p>
<p>Blythe alighted from his horse and tethered him,
then started on foot to the spot where the girl was
standing on tiptoe reaching up for the white blooms.
The simple garment she wore, low-necked and sleeveless,
did not disguise the roundness of her arms, nor
the graceful turn of her throat as she clasped the
bough overhead to bring it within her grasp.</p>
<p>“Lolita!” called Blythe. She turned with a start,
still holding the bough.</p>
<p>Her face broke into a smile as she saw who it was.
“Señor!” she exclaimed. Then the bough flew up
from her hand and she came forward.</p>
<p>“You look like a magnolia yourself,” said Blythe.
“Now I know what it is you have always reminded
me of, Lolita; you are like a magnolia.”</p>
<p>The eyes drooped and a smile parted the girl’s lips.
“You always say me very pretty thing,” she murmured.</p>
<p>“Sit down here and tell me what you have been
doing to-day,” Blythe went on.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>The girl hesitated. “You have seen Aleeson?” she
asked.</p>
<p>“No, I must have missed them.” He involuntarily
used the plural. “They had gone when I reached the
house. It is warm; I want my horse to rest a little
before I go back. Sit down and tell me what you
have been doing. Making tortillas, of course, and
what else? Have you read from the book I brought
you?”</p>
<p>For answer Lolita seated herself and gravely drew
from her dress a small book. “I read a leetle,” she
said.</p>
<p>Blythe sat down by her side and the two bent over
the book together. The lad had discovered that Lolita
was by no means as ignorant as many of her class,
that her father had taught her to read her own language
very well, and she was desirous of learning to
read English. Very haltingly and with much mispronouncing
she stumbled over the lines, taking Blythe’s
corrections meekly and making patient efforts to improve.
“I am wishful to surprise Aleeson,” she told
him.</p>
<p>“And you will,” he encouraged her by saying.
“You are getting on famously.”</p>
<p>She looked up gratefully. “Some days I am spik
English very good, maybe?”</p>
<p>“You certainly will. You are a very industrious
and patient little girl. I wish I could learn Spanish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>
as readily. Now you must give me a Spanish lesson.
What were those pretty words you taught me? Mi
alma, mi vida, mi corazon del oszos.” He pronounced
the words lingeringly and the dark lashes again drooped
over the clear smooth cheek. Then for some reason
neither spoke for a few minutes. The flowers stirred
around them, the sluggish waters of the bayou plashed
softly against the bank; there was a whisper, whisper
in the trees overhead. Brightly-colored birds flashed
out from the deep green of the live oaks making a
vivid streak against the shining leaves. Occasionally
there was a rustle in the grass as some small animal
slipped to the bayou’s edge and glided into the water.
Blythe was absorbed in gazing at the girl’s beauty,
while she pulled from their centre the creamy petals
of a magnolia blossom.</p>
<p>“Don’t hurt it,” said Blythe, breaking the silence,
and placing his hand over hers to arrest the act of
destruction.</p>
<p>The color flew to Lolita’s cheek and she sprang to
her feet. “It comes late,” she said. “My father returns.
I have not his supper prepare, and he will
have an anger for me.” The ready tears started to
her eyes.</p>
<p>“Oh, I hope not.” Blythe looked consciously
around to see Pedro returning home across the field.
“I should not have kept you so long. I, too, should
have been at home by this time, but it was so pleasant,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>
wasn’t it, Lolita? Good-bye.” He held out his hand
but she did not respond to the gesture, instead she ran
home with not a look behind, leaving her flowers neglected
on the stone. Blythe watched her as she ran on
without stopping, then he turned, gathered a flower
from the forsaken bunch, looked at it for a moment
thoughtfully and stuck it in his coat. He drew a long
sigh and went to where he had picketed his horse.</p>
<p>As he rode thoughtfully towards home he realized
that he was on dangerous ground. He was an honorable
lad and had no idea of playing fast and loose with
the pretty Lolita, though she moved him strangely.
The daughter of a greaser, despised by Americans!
Any nearer relation was out of the question. He had
his own share of family pride; he valued public opinion;
he was ambitious. His neighbors would consider
the plainest, most shiftless of snuff-rubbing damsels
his equal so long as she was an American, though she
might be far more ignorant, and in every way inferior
to Lolita. Clearly Alison was his only refuge. He
must not repeat this dangerously fascinating experiment
of teaching Lolita to read English. Then his
heart swelled within him as he remembered the charm
of her slow utterance, the sweet languor of her movements,
the soft dovelike expression of her eyes when
they were turned upon him for criticism. “No, it will
not do,” he said to himself, suddenly urging on his
horse. And then he came face to face with John.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>But no one except Lolita knew why Blythe was late
to supper that night, nor did any one suspect it till
afterwards, not even Alison who greeted him with her
usual unembarrassed friendliness of manner. He
seemed more than usually grave and distrait, she
thought, but did not wonder at that, a little later,
when the others gathered in a corner of the gallery and
she found herself alone with Blythe on a rustic seat in
the garden where Laura pointedly left them.</p>
<p>“Your wits certainly are wool-gathering to-night,”
she said, rallying him upon his silence. “I have asked
you the same question twice and I am still waiting for
an answer.”</p>
<p>“Oh, are you?” Blythe had picked up a stick and
was making indefinite figures upon the ground. “I
suppose I was thinking of a question I wanted to ask
you. Will you marry me, Alison?”</p>
<p>“For pity’s sake!” Alison looked at him in surprise.
“What in the world did you ask me that
for?”</p>
<p>“Haven’t I been devoted to you long enough for
you to expect it? My mother and sisters would be
delighted if I could tell them you had accepted me.”</p>
<p>Alison gave her head a little toss. “I don’t purpose
marrying any man’s sisters and mother. No, I will
not marry you.”</p>
<p>“Why not, Alison?”</p>
<p>“One reason is because you are not in love with me,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span>
and another is because I am not in love with you. I
think those two reasons are quite sufficient for the
occasion.”</p>
<p>“Why do you say I am not in love with you? I
protest——”</p>
<p>“No, don’t protest,” Alison raised her hand. “I
think for a little while you thought you cared, but you
are bravely over it, and I am very glad of it. When
a man begins to tell a girl how pleased his mother and
sisters will be before he has said a word of his own
feelings, it is quite evident that he is not as much in
love as he would have it believed he is. We have been
good friends and we will continue so to the end of the
chapter. I am devoted to your mother and the girls,
and I know exactly how they feel towards me, for
they have told me so. I know, too, that my sister and
yours have hashed up some sort of scheme by which
they think our future is to be arranged; but we are
not puppets to be pulled by a string and I shall marry
a man of my own selection if it happens to be Bud
Haley or a Mexican greaser.”</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t marry a greaser, Alison; you
couldn’t.”</p>
<p>“Why not? I would if I loved him.”</p>
<p>“Could you love one?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. Like the boy who was asked if he
could play the violin I can answer, ‘I don’t know; I
never tried.’ Some of those Mexicans are very handsome.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>
If Lolita had a brother as fascinating as she is,
I am sure I could not resist him.”</p>
<p>By what fatality, thought Blythe, had the conversation
turned upon that subject? “Oh, yes, Lolita,” he
began lamely and then stopped. But something in his
tone and in his embarrassed manner, a quick and
suspicious look that he cast upon his companion, suddenly
gave her an inspiration.</p>
<p>“Blythe Van Dorn,” she said, leaning towards him,
“why were you late for supper?” There was mockery,
a confidential sort of sympathy and amusement in her
voice.</p>
<p>“Why do you ask?” he said, nervously digging
holes with his stick. “I shouldn’t think you would be
particularly interested after you have just refused
me.”</p>
<p>Alison’s laugh rang out unaffectedly. “Now, look
here, Blythe Van Dorn, don’t pretend any longer; you
don’t have to. I am sure I don’t know why in the
world you asked me that silly question a while ago,
unless you had promised your mother you would, for
you know perfectly well that you are not a bit cut up
about my answer. Confess, are you?”</p>
<p>He remained silent for a minute. “You are the
only girl about here that is worth having,” he remarked
after the pause.</p>
<p>“That’s begging the question. I am not the only
girl in the world. There’s—Lolita.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>Blythe threw away his stick. “That’s all nonsense.
You know it is out of the question.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know anything of the kind. She is a dear
sweet thing. She is not like those dreadful mixy people
half Indians and half Spaniards or with a mixture
of negro, Spanish and Indian, Mestizos, or Castigos or
whatever they are. She is almost pure Spanish, she
told me so. Her father’s people came from Spain, but
being born in this country he is a Creole. Her
mother’s father was a Mestizo, for his father was a
Spaniard and his mother an Indian, though Lolita’s
mother’s mother was a Mestizo who married a
Spaniard, so you see except for that little drop of Indian
blood she is Spanish, and who would hesitate to
marry a Spaniard? She is so beautiful and has such
a lovely disposition and such a good mind. Really,
Blythe, I don’t wonder at you.”</p>
<p>“But consider how Mexicans are regarded by our
countrymen,” said Blythe, denying nothing; “they
are regarded almost as the negroes are.”</p>
<p>“That is because sometimes they intermarry with
the negroes, but Lolita has no relatives but her father,
not any at all, and you would not need to worry about
that. I think it is very unusual and in this case very
lucky, for she is proud and feels as we do about such
things. You must have noticed how old Pedro,
though he is on good terms with the ordinary
greasers, holds himself a little aloof from them and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>
never allows Lolita to go to fandangoes and such
things. He is too poor to associate with the upper
classes and too proud not to work at anything he can
do. I think he is much pleased to live with us, for he
is ambitious for Lolita and does not care to have her
associate with those whose circumstances are similar.
No, Blythe, you need have no reason to be ashamed of
Lolita.”</p>
<p>For some minutes Blythe made no remark. He was
surprised at Alison’s quick comprehension of the
situation. How could this girl intuitively guess his
attitude of mind? How could she so readily put into
speech those vaguely formed arguments which he had
scarcely made to himself? “Alison,” he said
solemnly, “you are a wonderful girl.”</p>
<p>“And why, Judge Van Dorn?” she ask laughing.
“Because I am good at guessing?”</p>
<p>“Yes. How did you know I saw Lolita to-day?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know. I jumped at the conclusion. You
were embarrassed and nervous when I happened to
mention her. I assure you I didn’t suspect before
that. Then I remembered that you had gone over
quite early for Christine and me, and had come back
late. You met John near our house; so, you see,
judge, my legal mind immediately followed out the
line of circumstantial evidence, and I drew my conclusions.
You did see her then, and probably more
than once you have met her in the same way. I am<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>
not sure what old Pedro would say, but as for myself,
I cannot blame you. However, Blythe,” she dropped
her bantering tone, “there is one thing of which I
must warn you. If you make that dear child unhappy,
I shall despise you.”</p>
<p>“I declare to you, Alison, I never dreamed of doing
such a thing. I confess I admire her immensely.
She is a bewitching little girl, but I never thought of
marrying her.”</p>
<p>“But if you were also a Mexican, how would you
feel about it then, Mr. Blythe? What then? Answer
me that, if you please.”</p>
<p>“Alison, you are the most desperate cross-questioner
I ever met. I am not a Mexican, so how can I tell?
I am pleased to know she is of better stock than I
feared, I confess that.”</p>
<p>“And you can confess more, if you will inquire of
your own heart more closely. If Lolita were here instead
of me, and you knew there was not the least
obstacle in the way of your marrying her, what would
you do?”</p>
<p>The young man arose and paced the walk. “Alison,
Alison, you are a temptress. Why do you suggest
such things? You know what my family would say.”</p>
<p>“True. I should have thought of that. I allowed
my interest in the subject to carry me beyond bounds.
Of course, as you say, it is out of the question. It is
really impossible.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>“I didn’t say impossible.”</p>
<p>“Well, never mind what you said; we have settled
the matter and I will give you a parting word. I will
stand by you if you need me, and if you will stop pretending
that you are in love with me. As I think of
it, I suppose I should be feeling quite aggrieved that
I am only second best and that you offered me less
than half a heart. Still, as I did not take it, we are
quits and we can still be the good friends we have always
been.” She held out her hand and Blythe
clasped it warmly.</p>
<p>“You are even finer than I thought you were,
Alison,” he declared. “It will be a lucky man who
wins you, and as for me I am your friend for life.”</p>
<p>“I may need your friendship when you are judge,”
laughed Alison, rising. “We must be going, for it is
growing late. Come over just as usual, Blythe, and we
will talk over this difficult question whenever you are
put to it to restrain your emotions, and until you set
your affections upon some other girl. I will not vouch
for your constancy.” And with a laugh she preceded
him to the house.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV<br>
<small>SIR KNIGHT</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap2">AMONG the few books which the Ross family had
brought from their Kentucky home were two or
three which Alison read and re-read whenever she was
kept indoors by a norther or by any slight illness.
Her favorite of these was Spenser’s “Faerie Queen.”
This appealed to her by its quaintness of language no
less than by its recitals of the adventures of knights
and ladies, for while Alison possessed much practical
good sense she was an imaginative girl and indulged
in day-dreams of such a romantic character as few
guessed who saw her roping in an obstreperous calf,
or beheld her, paddle in hand, absorbed in working a
lump of butter. Her romances, save the one in which
Blythe figured, had been of such a nature as to win
nothing but her contempt, for it was not to be supposed
that either she or Christine would be unsought
in a country where men were greatly in the majority.
But Alison flouted all her lovers, made fun of them to
her girl friends and seemed utterly devoid of sentiment,
so her sister told her, for even she did not know
of Alison’s air-castles. These day-dreams concerned
a dashing young knight who for her sake would undertake<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>
some arduous quest and, wearing her colors,
would go through weary adventures returning at last
to claim her hand. She knew all this was rather
foolish, but novels were few and romance she must
have.</p>
<p>She was amusing herself one day with thoughts of
her imaginary knight as she was riding home from a
visit to Louisa. The summer had come and gone,
bringing no great change. In spite of continued hope
nothing more definite had been learned of Steve.
Pike Smith had disappeared utterly, and there was no
hope of ever seeing Hero again. Christine had refused
more than one bluff suitor and into her brown
eyes was creeping the patient look of one ever seeking,
ever hoping against repeated disappointment. The
friendship between John and Laura remained upon a
comfortable basis, but it was believed by every one
concerned that they would one day marry.</p>
<p>“A gentle knight was pricking on the plaine,” repeated
Alison to herself as she rode along. “That
could not have been my knight, for it was the Knight
of the Red Cross. I don’t quite like that name,
neither do I like Sir Scudamour. I think I like Sir
Guyon or Sir Artegall the best. No, Steve would
have to be Sir Guyon, because he lost his steed, that
was stolen by Braggadochio; Pike Smith is more like
the Blatant Beast, however. I think I am the Lady
Florimell. My knight shall be Sir Artegall because<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>
of that magic sword Chrysaor. Well, here I am riding
through the forest. Suppose I should meet the
Blatant Beast or the Giant with the Flaming Eyes; I
would call for help and my own true knight, Sir
Artegall, would come pricking along ‘ycladde in
mighty armes and silver shielde.’ I, on my snow-white
palfrey would seem to him a vision of angelic
loveliness. They always have flowing locks bound by
a fillet of blue. Wait a minute, Chico.” She unfastened
her fair hair and let it fall over her shoulders,
binding it back with a blue ribbon from her
neck. “My wanton palfrey should be overspread
with ‘tinsell trappings,’ but we shall have to imagine
those, Chico. On, on, my gentle steed, I fear the
Blatant Beast. What, do my eyes deceive me, or is
it a noble knight I see pricking this way?”</p>
<p>She suddenly checked Chico in his progress, for
there was, indeed, some one riding towards her, a man
in the dress of a Texan Ranger, buckskins, hunting
shirt and broad-brimmed sombrero. Alison felt not a
sign of fear, but drew Chico to the side of the road
and waited the approach of the man. As he drew
near she gave a glad little laugh. “It’s Neal, Neal,
Chico,” she whispered; “now we will have some fun,”
and raising her voice she shrilled out: “Help, help,
Sir Knight. I am pursued by the Blatant Beast.”</p>
<p>Neal, for he it was, put spurs to his horse and galloped
rapidly towards her. “Alison, Alison,” he cried,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>
as he came up, “what is the matter? What is
wrong?”</p>
<p>“The Blatant Beast, he is there in the chaparral.
Dear me, I shouldn’t say chaparral, I should say
thicket.” She altered her voice. “Why, Neal Jordan,
where did you come from?”</p>
<p>“Never mind, tell me what is the matter. What
frightened you?”</p>
<p>“Why nothing, except an imaginary something. I
was only playing that I was a lovely lady as I came
along, and you came in the nick of time to fall into
my whim, so I just called out to fool you.”</p>
<p>“You are the same old Alison, I see,” said Neal,
smiling.</p>
<p>“Yes, I believe I am. One would suppose that I
might stop playing such childish things by this time,
but I like to do it.”</p>
<p>Neal scrutinized her closely as she gathered her hair
into place, dismounting in order to do so. “You are
taller,” he said. “Why, I believe you are taller than
your sister.”</p>
<p>“So I am, but that is not answering my question.
Where did you come from?”</p>
<p>“Directly from Mexico. The war is practically
over.”</p>
<p>“And did you bring me something pretty for writing
you that long letter?”</p>
<p>“I brought you something if you will have it.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>“Where is it? I want to see it.”</p>
<p>“I have it safe. I will give it to you soon—I
hope.”</p>
<p>“You might have brought it with you. How did
you happen to be on this road?”</p>
<p>“I have been to your rancho and they told me where
you had gone, so I came out to meet you.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Sir Knight, and if I had really been a
lady in distress you would have been on hand to
rescue me.”</p>
<p>“Still acting that play?”</p>
<p>“Well, no, I am coming out of that. You are such
a very evident reality that I cannot dream. My, but
you are fine. I didn’t notice at first that you had such
an elegant outfit, all that silver mounting on your
saddle, and those spurs; I suppose you got those all in
Mexico. If you had a silver shield and a spear you
would be quite like a real knight. You have seen
some hard fighting, I have no doubt, but you are back
safe in spite of that sabre cut on your forehead. Tell
me about the other boys, Reub, and Tom Andrews and
the rest.”</p>
<p>“We buried poor old Reub down in Mexico,” said
Neal gravely.</p>
<p>“Oh!” Alison’s bright face saddened. “I am so
sorry. So many of the boys came safely through that
I believed you all would. Poor old Reub,” she said
sorrowfully. She scanned Neal’s face. It bore the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>
marks of the two years’ experience; the eyes were
less merry, the lines had become firmer, the don’t care
expression had left it. “I am glad that you are here,”
she said gently. “I cannot bear to think that you,
too, might have been left by your friends, there in
Mexico, as you left Reuben. I am so very glad you
have come back.”</p>
<p>“Are you glad, little girl? Then I am glad, too.”</p>
<p>“But you are glad anyway, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>“Did you see Christine?” asked Alison suddenly.
“Did she tell you all the news?”</p>
<p>“She told me some of it. I learned that she still
hopes against hope. She is very true.”</p>
<p>Alison looked at him as though she would read
something in his face. His eyes met hers frankly.
“Perhaps some day she may feel differently,” said the
girl.</p>
<p>“Yes, she is young and one cannot wait forever,”
said Neal thoughtfully. “Shall we go on, Alison?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, I forgot that we were standing here for
no reason. I have a hundred questions to ask and you
can answer them as we ride along. When did you
leave Mexico?”</p>
<p>“A few days after we had entered the city. It has
been a clean sweep for us straight through. There
was some sharp fighting, but we’ve got all we tried for
and Santa Anna has lit out.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>“Then there will be peace.”</p>
<p>“We think so. They are negotiating for it. We
should have had it earlier if the Mexicans had known
when they were beaten. We took everything in sight
on our way down, but they didn’t seem to think that
we meant anything by it. Must have thought we
were killing ’em off for fun as we made a little pleasure
trip through their country.”</p>
<p>“I don’t like to think of your killing off anybody.”</p>
<p>“Has to be done in war.”</p>
<p>“That is the truth, but I would rather some one
else than my friends should do that part.”</p>
<p>“I thought you liked those fellows that used to go
about slashin’ and killin’ right and left. From what
I’ve read they used to be a pretty lively gang and
didn’t have any special reason for their tempers sometimes.”</p>
<p>“Oh, but they did. They had to rescue lovely ladies.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and they had a way of ridin’ into town, like
I would go into Denton and say, ‘If anybody in this
town says Allie Ross ain’t a sight the best looking girl
in the county I’ll put daylight through him.’ What
would you think of my doing that, for instance?
You’d call me some kind of fool, wouldn’t you?”</p>
<p>“Very likely I should. But they were not all that
way. They went on quests and delivered prisoners
from dungeons and slew wicked beasts and giants and
things.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>“You think that’s a heap nicer than the way we-all
do, don’t you?” said Neal with a smile and a side
glance at her. “Ain’t any of us ever rescued our
friends from the Injuns, and what worse beasts will
you find than them? Ain’t any of this generation
gone into mountain hiding-places after a gang of
thieves? I call that just about as good as any of those
book adventures.”</p>
<p>“But it doesn’t sound so romantic. You don’t do it
for some fair lady’s sake who binds her colors on your
shield and sends you forth. Perhaps if I didn’t know
you all and if you were not named such plain names
as Ira and Bud and Tom it wouldn’t seem so commonplace.”</p>
<p>“Maybe it doesn’t sound romantic, but if it was written
up and somebody put in a lot about roses and
posies and stuff they could make it sound pretty.
Now there’s that about Iry and Lou; it strikes me
that was pretty romantic, though they ain’t neither of
them much for looks and they haven’t those sugar-plum
names.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that was romantic,” said Alison. “Ira did
deliver her from the Blatant Beast, Pike Smith, you
know. I do think that was a truly romance. Neal,
do you know your grammar has suffered very much
by your having been so long away. You were getting
to speak quite like a gentleman when you went
away.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span>“Laws, child, I forget. It is so easy to drop into
the way the other boys talk.”</p>
<p>“But it isn’t as if you didn’t know better, for you
say you never used to talk so before you came to
Texas. I shall have to take you in hand again.”</p>
<p>“I’m perfectly willing. I always enjoyed your taking
me in hand.” He smiled reminiscently. “But I
set my face agen——”</p>
<p>“Not agen; against.”</p>
<p>“Against your making me talk book talk. You can
play all your tricks and call me anything you choose,
and can make believe all you want to, but I’ll not be
made to say, ‘Hence, lady, hence,’ and such bosh as
they do in plays.”</p>
<p>Alison’s merry laugh rang out. “I won’t make you
say that, and you needn’t talk booky if you don’t like.
I shall be perfectly satisfied with good plain English
as we speak it. Oh, you haven’t told me yet what
you have brought me from Mexico.”</p>
<p>“I don’t mean to tell you yet.”</p>
<p>“Did you bring Christine something? If you did
and it is prettier than my present I shall never forgive
you.”</p>
<p>“I brought her some sort of foolishness, embroidery,
I believe they call it.”</p>
<p>“I think you might tell me what my present
is.”</p>
<p>“Can’t do it.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>“Then you are very mean. You have given Christine
hers and you make me wait.”</p>
<p>“Suppose I was one of those old-timers, what would
you expect me to say?”</p>
<p>“I have brought thee an offering, lady fair. I
prithee honor thy poor knight by thine acceptance.”</p>
<p>Neal threw back his head and laughed. “Did you
ever hear such fool talk?”</p>
<p>“You shall not make fun of me.”</p>
<p>“I’m not making fun of you; I’m making fun of
those old gumps. Now, suppose one of them—those
knights came to you, what do you reckon you would
want him to do?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I should want him to go on a quest.”</p>
<p>“What’s that?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’d want him to relieve some fair lady in distress,
or to kill some ogre, just as I was telling you
awhile ago.”</p>
<p>“I’m not talking about suppose you lived way back
in that time; I’m supposing now. Suppose I wanted
to be one of those fellows, what would you say to
Neal Jordan, for example?”</p>
<p>Alison bent her brows.</p>
<p>“I suppose killin’ Injuns wouldn’t count.”</p>
<p>“Well, hardly. Any of the boys might do that.”</p>
<p>“It isn’t so easy when it comes down to nowadays,
is it?” said Neal.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>“No,” replied Alison, slowly, “but there is a quest
I should like some one to undertake.”</p>
<p>“What’s that?”</p>
<p>“I’d like to send some one to find Steve.”</p>
<p>“And if he found him what would you do?”</p>
<p>“I would reward him with my hand, of course.”</p>
<p>“I’ll go,” said Neal, looking straight ahead.</p>
<p>Alison gazed at him in amazement. “What do you
mean?” she asked, wonderingly.</p>
<p>“Just what I said. If you’ll keep your part of the
bargain, I’ll keep mine.”</p>
<p>“Do you know where he is?” Alison asked a little
suspiciously.</p>
<p>“Haven’t the faintest idea.”</p>
<p>“Then—— Oh, Neal, you are joking.”</p>
<p>“No, I’m not.”</p>
<p>“Do you mean—why—I thought——” she paused
and looked down steadfastly at Chico’s ears.</p>
<p>“What was it you thought?”</p>
<p>“That—that——”</p>
<p>“Might as well tell me.”</p>
<p>“I thought you were in love with Christine.” Alison
spoke very low.</p>
<p>“Why, you were ’way off, weren’t you?” said Neal
without embarrassment.</p>
<p>“Was I?”</p>
<p>“I should think so. Laws, child, you don’t reckon
I’d make love to Steve’s girl.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>“I don’t mean that I thought you did, but——”</p>
<p>“That I would like to? Well, I never had any such
notion. There used to be a little foolish slip of a girl
that I used to like to look at and knock around the
place with, but she was only a child and, when I told
her brother I’d give my two eyes for her, he said
she’d not waked up yet, and that I’d better wait till I
got back. That was just before we went off to jine
the boys. I didn’t get but one letter from her, but it
was a good one, especially the last words: ‘May you
came back safe to Alison.’”</p>
<p>“I said John and Christine, too,” put in Alison,
quickly.</p>
<p>“Yes, but I left them out when I wanted to feel
good. I took a lot of comfort in that letter, and the
picture, too, though it was a kind of comic, but I could
supply what it hadn’t and it brought you before me
and did me good. Now, you see I’ve got back and the
little girl has grown up some, but she’s got funny notions,
romantic ones. I’m perfectly willin’ she should
have ’em, if it amuses her, and if she wants to take
that way for me to show her how much I think of her
I’ve no objections. She can talk to me any way she
likes, too, so long as she doesn’t expect me to answer
back in the same lingo. I’ll go hunt Steve and bring
him back if he’s above ground, if she will do as
she says, give me her hand; only I want her heart
with it.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>Alison sat silent, still gazing at Chico’s ears. The
effect of Neal’s speech was such as surprised her. She
trembled violently; her heart beat fast; she could not
speak; she wanted to cry; she wished she could run
away and hide; she dared not look at her companion.
They rode along in silence, Neal, once in a while
stealing a glance at her.</p>
<p>At last he said gently: “Have I skeered you, little
girl?”</p>
<p>“I—I don’t know,” said Alison helplessly, after a
minute. “I think—I’m going to cry.” And she put
her head down on Chico to hide her feelings.</p>
<p>Neal at once stopped his horse, dismounted and
lifted the girl from her saddle. “That isn’t comfortable,”
he said. “If you want to cry, why cry ahead,
but do it right.” And she wept softly on his shoulder
for a moment.</p>
<p>But presently she dashed the tears from her eyes and
looked up with a smile. “Did you ever know such a
silly thing?” she said. “What is there to cry about?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure I don’t know. Ask me something easy,
but if you wanted to cry I wasn’t going to object.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Neal, Neal,” said the girl, “you have bewildered
me. I don’t know where I stand.”</p>
<p>“Right here by me, where I hope your place will be
while we both live,” he said with an undercurrent of
seriousness in his voice.</p>
<p>“You see I’ve never thought of you in that way.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>“It isn’t too late to begin.”</p>
<p>“No,” she agreed faintly.</p>
<p>“You don’t mind my asking you one question, do
you? You will answer me truly?”</p>
<p>“Yes, if I can.”</p>
<p>“Do you care for any other man? They told me
Blythe Van Dorn has been trying mighty hard to
wear down the road between his house and
yours.”</p>
<p>“Blythe is a nice boy, but I never, never thought of
him in that way.”</p>
<p>“And there’s no one else?”</p>
<p>“No one, except——”</p>
<p>“Except. Who is it?” He grasped her hands so
closely as to make her draw in a little quick breath.</p>
<p>“Except Sir Artegall,” she said laughing. “I am
the Lady Florimell and he is my knight.”</p>
<p>“Oh, if he is only one of those dream fellows I
don’t mind him. I shall get him out of the way, and
besides you have taken me for your knight.”</p>
<p>“If you are to be my knight you should call me
Lady Florimell.”</p>
<p>“I don’t mind calling you lady, little lady; that’s
all right, but I can’t go that other hot-house name.”
Alison did not expect, and really did not desire acquiescence
in this, and assured him she would not exact
it.</p>
<p>“Shall we go on?” she said. “I think we ought.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>“As you say. I’ve nothing to do but follow you.”
And they continued their way.</p>
<p>“Was that why you came to meet me?” asked
Alison after a pause.</p>
<p>“Yes, I couldn’t wait, you see.”</p>
<p>“Did you tell Christine?”</p>
<p>“That I was coming? Yes.”</p>
<p>“No, not that.”</p>
<p>“What then?”</p>
<p>“What you told John.”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“I’ll have to think about it.”</p>
<p>“Laws, yes, please do. I’d feel mightily cut up if
you didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Neal, why will you always make me laugh?”</p>
<p>“I don’t always; sometimes I make you cry.”</p>
<p>Alison chose to ignore this. “You’ll have to go on
that search for Steve.”</p>
<p>“I said I would.”</p>
<p>“We will keep it a secret. I think that will be fine.
And when you come back with Steve——”</p>
<p>“That is where I shall take all the tricks. But suppose
I don’t come back with him, what then?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll have to tell you that later.
I am not going to think that you will come without
him.”</p>
<p>Neal gave her a quick look, but her innocent expression
failed to imply that she meant to give him encouragement<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>
by the speech, and he realized that it was
as John had said; she was not yet wakened.</p>
<p>“If you should come across the Blatant Beast,” she
said, turning a mischievous face towards him, “I hope
you will not kill him yourself, but will get one of your
squires to do it.”</p>
<p>“What squire? Old Jackson?”</p>
<p>“You are so literal,” said Alison, laughing. “I
didn’t mean him. I think I must stipulate that you
read some of my favorite books so as to understand
me better.”</p>
<p>“Can’t you just tell me what those things mean
without my reading about them?” asked Neal anxiously.
And Alison could but laugh at his anxiety to
escape from this evident infliction.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI<br>
<small>A NORTHER</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE two, man and girl, had traveled along with
so little speed that they were still several miles
from home. They were now leaving the woods and
were about to ascend a hill, after having crossed a
small bayou. Along the border of the woodland,
which they would soon skirt for a short distance, the
prairie opened before them, their trail leading directly
across it. In a sky which an hour before had been of
purest blue, great gusty clouds were gathering. At
the top of the hill a sudden puff of cool wind struck
through the sultriness of the air. Before they had
reached the prairie a second cold blast made Alison
shiver.</p>
<p>“We’re going to get a norther,” said Neal. “We’d
better be traveling, little lady, or you will feel it.
You are rather thinly dressed.”</p>
<p>“It was warm when I started,” said Alison with
another shiver.</p>
<p>“It will be a cold ride across the prairie,” said
Neal. “If there were a house between here and
home I’d leave you there and ride on for something
to wrap around you. Foolishly I left my blanket<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span>
when I started out to meet you, and that’s something
a Texan ought never to do, part from his blanket.”</p>
<p>“I should have had better sense myself than to
have gone so far from home with nothing for an
emergency. I didn’t bring a blanket even for Chico.”</p>
<p>“Well, all of us are foolish sometimes,” remarked
Neal. “We’ll just have to make the best of it and
hurry on as fast as we can.”</p>
<p>The gale increased and the grass of the prairie bent
in long waves like those of the sea; they seemed to
be riding between its rolling billows. Rain began to
descend and the cold steadily increased till Alison’s
teeth fairly chattered. Neal viewed her anxiously
and tried to think of some way to alleviate the situation.
“There used to be a little cabin somewhere in
these woods,” he said. “I wonder if I could find it
without going much out of the way.”</p>
<p>“Pike Smith’s cabin, do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but what do you know about it?” asked
Neal quickly.</p>
<p>Alison hesitated before she decided to make a clean
breast of it. “If you are going to undertake a search
for Steve,” she began, “I may as well tell you what I
do know about it, for you will want all the information
you can get. I don’t feel any compunctions
now.” And she told him the story of her adventure
with its consequences in giving them a clue to the
cause of Steve’s disappearance.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>Neal listened with grave attention, making no
comment for some moments after she had finished
what she had to tell. Then he said: “That was a
pretty close shave for you, Alison, and I can’t promise
that I’ll keep my hands off that man if I ever get
within sight of him.”</p>
<p>Alison looked troubled, and gave a timid glance at
Neal’s stern face so different in expression from an
hour before. Here was a man who could be as relentless
as he could be tender, and whose virile strength
she had scarcely realized in her association with him,
for the softer side had been that shown her. She had
known him only as a good comrade, a man full of
merry humors, though often, under certain influences,
of gentle speech and delicate courtesy. She felt a
sudden leaping of heart as she acknowledged her appreciation
of those knightly qualities which permitted
the existence of no dragon which might interfere with
justice and right. “Even if he should really kill the
Blatant Beast,” said Alison to herself, “I do not
think I could blame him.” But she said aloud:
“You remember I told you that you must allow somebody
else to do any killing that may be necessary.”</p>
<p>Neal smiled grimly. “I’m making no rash promises.
I shan’t play any Injun tricks, but in a fair
fight I am not saying what I’ll do. It wouldn’t be in
reason for me to play baby where Pike Smith might
happen to be. I think we’d better get out of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>
open, little lady, and see what shelter we can find in
the woods. You’re fair blue with cold, and it makes
me unhappy to see you that way while I haven’t even
a big neckerchief for you.” He turned off into the
woods, Alison following, and before long they had
reached the hut which was so well remembered by
the girl. Now the place was deserted; no smoke
came from its chimney, no sound came from within.
The door, sagging on its hinges, was easily pushed
open; as Neal set foot inside some wild creature
which had taken refuge there, dashed out and into the
shelter of the underbrush.</p>
<p>“What was it?” said Alison startled.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t a ha’nt,” said Neal; “nothin’ but a jack-rabbit.
I thought I wasn’t out of my calculations,”
he went on. “I reckoned the place was about here.
Now, you go in out of the wind and I’ll have a fire
started in a jiffy.” The girl was stiff with cold and
was glad to be lifted from her horse. The forsaken
cabin furnished a shelter, but that was about all. A
wooden bench was its sole furniture, though pinned
on the wall was a strange uncanny woodcut of some
dead and gone saint who seemed a fitting guardian of
the retreat. Windowless, and with earthen floor,
gaping chinks between logs and a general air of cheerlessness,
the place was none too good for Chico and
Neal’s horse, which were led in and placed amicably
side by side in a dark corner.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span>It was not long before Neal had hunted up some
fire-wood and soon the licking flames shot up the
chimney, providing the warmth Alison felt sorely in
need of. Even this appearance of comfort did not
add much to the looks of the room, nor did the fire do
much more than remove the chill, for the wind howled
through the crevices and swept keenly through the
door, which would not stay closed until Neal placed a
heavy log against it.</p>
<p>“Now,” said Neal, looking with satisfaction at the
fire, “if we only had a good cup of coffee and something
sociable to eat, we could be as comfortable as I
would want to be.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure I am thankful enough for the fire,” said
Alison, “but I think I can wait till I get home for
something to eat.”</p>
<p>“Many’s the time in the last two years I’d given a
heap for a place like this,” said Neal.</p>
<p>“You’ve slept on the ground with nothing but your
saddle for a pillow, and a blanket to cover you. I
know all about it, for John has told me. I am glad,
very glad you will not have to do that any more.”
She was silent a moment, then she asked, “If you go
searching for Steve, do you think it will mean sleeping
out nights and going through all those hardships
like a soldier has?”</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="p266">
<img class="w100" src="images/p266.jpg" alt="ALISON LEANED FORWARD AND HELD OUT HER HANDS
TO THE BLAZE">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">“ALISON LEANED FORWARD AND HELD OUT HER HANDS
TO THE BLAZE.”</p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>“Don’t know, but if I do have that sort of thing, it
won’t be any more than I’m used to, and no more
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>than those fellows you’re so fond of had all the
time.”</p>
<p>“That’s the truth,” returned Alison, but she gave a
little sigh.</p>
<p>“Are you good and warm, little lady?” asked Neal.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes.” Alison from her seat on the bench
before the fire, leaned forward and held out her hands
to the blaze.</p>
<p>Neal, who was squatting on the ground in the
attitude affected by the Texan in general, arose to his
feet. “It seems to me the best plan would be for me
to leave you here for a little while and ride on to the
house for something to wrap around you. My horse
is a pretty good traveler, and will take me there in no
time. Do you mind staying here for an hour? I
have been thinking it over and there doesn’t seem to
be any other way. No one is likely to come this way;
the house is too well hidden and it’s too far off the
road to be seen by any passing traveler. Shall you be
afraid, little lady?”</p>
<p>“No, not if you can shut the door. I shall have
Chico for company.”</p>
<p>“I’ll make the door fast on the outside, and you’d
better not open it to any one. I will knock three
times when I come, and whistle ‘Hail Columbia.’”</p>
<p>Alison laughed. Blythe would have selected a more
sentimental tune, but somehow she liked the idea of
“Hail Columbia.” “I will listen for your whistle and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>
then I can peep out between the chinks to see that no
one else has stolen your tune.”</p>
<p>So Neal left her and she watched his departure from
a crevice between the logs. He dashed off in desperate
haste and when the sound of the rapid hoof-beats
had died away she felt a great sense of loneliness.
But she drew the bench nearer the fire,
and sat there, elbows on knees, and chin resting
on her hands. Very quietly she sat gazing into the
blazing fire and thinking, thinking, her early fancies
driven from her mind by later absorbing realities.
Her world of dreams had been invaded by a familiar
figure which suddenly assumed the character
of a knight. It was hard to fit Neal Jordan to the
pattern of Sir Artegall, and yet—and yet—— He
would not call her Lady Florimell, but it came upon
her as a great surprise that he answered in more particulars
than one to the description she had given to
Blythe Van Dorn of the man she could most admire.
Like many another she had looked far afield when her
knight was near at hand. She reviewed her acquaintance
with him, remembered how content she had
always been in his society, and how ready he had
always been to provide pleasures for her, to teach her
such things as it seemed well that she should know,
had—why, she had been blind; of course it was never
Christine who had received his first greeting, his last
farewell; it was never she whom Neal had deliberately<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>
chosen to ride with, to walk with, on such occasions
as there was a question of choice. “And I never discovered
you at all, Sir Artegall,” she said, nodding to
the red castle falling to pieces in the midst of the
glowing embers. “Your Florimell had a spell put
upon her, and she did not know you were her knight.”
She laughed softly and Chico from his corner turned
his head and gave a little whinney. “Oh, yes, Chico,”
she went on, “I am glad you appreciate the situation.
We were very foolish, but I shall not tell him so. Let
him go on the quest, and if he finds Steve then I shall
feel that I have a right to be happy without giving my
dear Christine a pang by parading a joy which she
must be denied. I have faith in my knight and I
believe he will be successful. How delighted I shall
be to hear of his adventures and to know they were
undertaken for my sake. Christine would call me a
romantic, silly thing to send him off in this way, so
she shall not know, and when he comes back she will
be so glad that she will have only praise for my
romantic notion. Hark! what is that!”</p>
<p>There was a sound of the sharp crackle of sticks
under an approaching tread. Was it Neal returning
so soon? Hardly, the girl decided. She went to the
front of the cabin and peered between the logs. A
man was limping towards the door. Alison tiptoed
back to her place by the fire, determined to make no
response to any summons. Presently there came a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span>
knock, then some one with lips close to the door said
in a low voice: “Mi madre, soy Carlos.”</p>
<p>Alison held her breath not daring to move towards
the door, but afraid not to do so. She was spared
any decision, however, for a heavy shoulder pushed
it open sufficiently for a man to enter. He looked
wild and unkempt, and his face was distorted with
pain. At sight of the girl he made as if to leave the
place, but decided otherwise, for he turned and said
imploringly in English, “You will no betray me,
señorita?”</p>
<p>“Why should I betray you?” said Alison. “Who
are you, and why do you come here?”</p>
<p>“I am seeing the smoke, and I think my mother is
here.”</p>
<p>“Your mother? Brigida? Then you are her son.”
Alison’s mind was working rapidly. She looked at
the man searchingly. Many possibilities arose before
her. She perceived that it might be advantageous to
detain him. “I will not betray you,” she told the
man. “I know your mother; she loves you and I
would not make her unhappy.”</p>
<p>“You are alone?” The man looked around.</p>
<p>“Just at this moment I am, but my friends will be
here in a minute. You will have to hide somewhere.
Are you hurt?”</p>
<p>“I am hurt.” He limped to the bench and sat
down in evident pain.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span>Alison viewed him compassionately. “I wish I
could do something to relieve you,” she said. “What
is the matter?”</p>
<p>“I am pursued. I go with much hurry. I fall. I
think I break the leg at the foot.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear, that is bad. It should be set at once.”
She saw difficulties to be overcome in getting relief
for this man. “Perhaps it may be only badly
sprained,” she said. “Who was it pursuing you,
and why did they do it?”</p>
<p>The man remained silent and Alison, remembering
that he was an outlaw, did not doubt but that some
of her own friends were in pursuit, for it was he who
was concerned in the thefts which Pike Smith had
conducted. He knew where Steve was. At that
thought her heart gave a sudden bound. “You are
Carlos,” she said. “I remember about you. The
time is very short before my friends will be here. I
must hide you, for you cannot get very far away with
that hurt. I promise not to tell where you are if you
in return will do something for me.” She looked
around the bare room but a possibility occurred to
her.</p>
<p>“Ah, señorita,” murmured the man, “what can a
poor wounded, as I, do for you?”</p>
<p>“A great deal, and perhaps I can do you a good
turn.” She listened for a moment to the howling
wind shrieking around the little hut. It was the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span>
only sound she heard. There was no whistle of Hail
Columbia. “I can perhaps help you by getting word
to your mother,” she continued, “but first I must
make you safe here.”</p>
<p>“Ah, señorita, an angel you are.” The man’s dark
eyes lost some of their fierceness as he gazed at her
from under his matted locks.</p>
<p>“I will tell you why I wish to do this,” said Alison.
“I once promised your mother that so far as I had
power to prevent it no harm should befall you. I did
not foresee this situation, but I will not inform upon
you if you will tell me where Steve Hayward is.”</p>
<p>The man looked around startled, as if to see if
escape were possible.</p>
<p>“No, no,” said Alison, “don’t think of that. You
would be taken. Quick, tell me. Would you have
me give you up?”</p>
<p>She spoke impatiently and the man staggered to
his feet, but dropped back again upon the bench with
an expression of pain. “I was foolish to come back,”
he muttered to himself in Spanish.</p>
<p>“Then why did you do it?” asked Alison.</p>
<p>He looked at her surprised. “You know my
language, señorita?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and I can be well understood by your
mother. Now I will hide you. Lie down there.”
She pointed to the dark corner by the chimney. The
man obeyed her and she gathered up the armfuls of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span>
brush which Neal had brought in and scattered them
over Carlos till he was fairly hidden. “That will do
very well,” said Alison. “Now, I am waiting for
you to tell me what I asked. Otherwise, you understand,
you are in my power.”</p>
<p>She bent her ear close to the pile of brush and the
man said, “I perceebe, señorita, and I can do no
less. I am grateful that you help me and I will
also help you, but I know not where Stephen Hayward
is.”</p>
<p>“Where did you take him?” asked Alison eagerly.
“You see that I know of his having been taken away
by Pike Smith and his men.”</p>
<p>“We took him westward, señorita, into the mountains.
There we left him.”</p>
<p>“Why did you leave him? What was your object?”</p>
<p>“There were signs of Indians. We have fear of
attack. We must escape. One horse is go lame,
therefore we must leave him.”</p>
<p>“What Indians were they?”</p>
<p>“We are told the Apaches.”</p>
<p>“The Apaches!” Alison spoke the name with
horror; she well knew the bloodthirsty record of this
tribe. “It was cruel, cruel,” she said. “It would
have been better to kill him at once.”</p>
<p>“No one is wish to do that. It is promise Cy
Sparks not to do so, but only to take him away to a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span>
place not return, where Mexicano is keep prisoner;
but is come the Indian, we cannot.”</p>
<p>“Did he have arms? Was there a possibility of
escape for him? had he food?”</p>
<p>“Food, yes; a pistol, also. He may perhap make
to escape.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I have hope, I have hope,” cried Alison.
“Tell me exactly where it was that you left him.”</p>
<p>“In the valley of Night Creek; near mountains
Guadalupe.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, thank you, Carlos. I believe you tell
me the truth.”</p>
<p>“I speak truth.”</p>
<p>“Hush!” Alison sprang to her feet. “Keep very
quiet. Some one is coming.”</p>
<p>It was not Neal’s whistle that she heard, but the
approach of horses. She ran to the door, forgetting
Neal’s charge to keep out of sight. Two men had
dismounted and were examining the trail of the man
who lay hidden. Unheeding the chill wind and the
beating rain, Alison stood in the doorway, but retreated
a little as the men approached. They both
stopped short at sight of her, and she saw Bud and
Ira.</p>
<p>“Alison Ross, what under canopy are you doin’
here?” exclaimed Ira.</p>
<p>She laughed nervously. “I came in out of the
rain. What are you doing here?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span>“We are huntin’ the worst kind of cattle, one of
Pike Smith’s gang. Caught sight of him in the road
ahead of us, got after him but he slipped us somehow
and we thought we had struck his trail here.” He
stepped into the room. To all appearances it was
empty, save for the presence of Chico.</p>
<p>“Them footprints certainly must ha’ been his’n,”
said Ira, as he fell to examining the tracks.</p>
<p>“Whose? Neal’s?” asked Alison innocently. “It
was he who brought me here, you see, and he has
gone home for some warm things.”</p>
<p>“You don’t mean Neal Jordan? He got
back?”</p>
<p>“Yes, he came this morning and rode out to meet
me. Neither of us had even a blanket, so I am waiting
for him to come back with something I can wear
home. I didn’t prepare for a norther.”</p>
<p>“That so?” Bud had been listening attentively.
“Well, you had precious little sense, the two of ye, to
come away without ary blanket.”</p>
<p>“You are right, but it was so pleasant when I left
I had no idea we should have such weather before I
could get home.”</p>
<p>“Got a fire in there, hev ye?” said Ira. “Well,
you need it to-day. We was caught same as you.
We was making for home when we see that blamed
Mexican.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and we’ll lose him sure, though he was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span>
footin’ it,” said Bud. “I move we go on and don’t
waste no more time jawin’ about it.”</p>
<p>“You’re surely not going to face this norther. I
don’t think he can be worth that,” said Alison.</p>
<p>“We ain’t sugar nor salt, and I reckon we’ve faced
northers before,” said Bud. “It’s the first time we’ve
come on one of them fellows and we mean to git
somethin’ out of him. Sorry we can’t keep you
company, but I reckon you’re safe till Neal comes.”</p>
<p>“We was on the wrong trail, Bud,” said Ira. “I
reckon we’ll strike it further along.” And to Alison’s
relief they rode away.</p>
<p>They were scarce out of sight before Neal’s cheery
whistle was heard above the howl of the wind and
the drip of the rain. Alison was at the door to meet
the young man.</p>
<p>“All right?” he said, as he came forward, blankets
and wraps over his arm.</p>
<p>“All right,” she replied. “I’ve let the fire die
down and, unless you are very cold, I think we’d
better ride on. I shall be well wrapped up, thanks to
you, Sir Knight.” She hastily slipped on the warm
jacket and hood he had brought her, and pinned a
blanket around her. “There, I think I can stand any
storm,” she said. “I look like a mummy.” And
they started forth, leaving the man hidden under the
pile of brush. “He will be dry and safe, even if he
is suffering,” thought Alison, and then she cudgeled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span>
her brains for an excuse to get word to Brigida without
exciting suspicion. She was absorbed in her
thoughts for a long time, but Neal did not interrupt
her brown study.</p>
<p>After they had again passed from the woods and
had entered the way across the prairie, she turned to
him and said, “Neal, would you think me a crazy
lunatic if I asked you to go with me to the little
Mexican village on the other side of the bayou?”</p>
<p>“Now? In this norther?”</p>
<p>“Yes, now.”</p>
<p>“What for? Can’t wait, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“Not very well. The worst of it is that I don’t
want any one to know about it, and I cannot even tell
you why I must go. Can you trust me enough to go
and ask no questions? I will tell you before you go
away again, but I can’t to-day. I want to see that
woman Brigida.”</p>
<p>“And you are afraid she will die before to-morrow?
Couldn’t I go for you? Ain’t it one of those errands
those jays used to do for their young ladies?”</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t say young ladies,” laughed Alison; “it
does sound so commonplace. Say lady-loves.”</p>
<p>“All right, little lady—love.” He paused between
the two words and Alison felt the color coming to her
cheeks. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable any
longer than need be,” continued Neal, “and that’s
why I want to get you home.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span>“I am comfortable, and I shall be better satisfied to
go, if I can go to-day.”</p>
<p>“All right. Have it your own way. As long as
you don’t take cold I am willing to do anything that
suits you.”</p>
<p>“It is very mean of me to make you go when you
have been riding all this time in the cold.”</p>
<p>“That’s nothing. I’ve been out in worse weather
than this, and in company I liked less.”</p>
<p>“It isn’t so very far out of the way,” continued Alison,
“and it is much more sheltered. We shall not
have the wind in our faces at any rate.” So they
turned off and followed the edge of the woods in
another direction till the village of adobe huts was before
them.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII<br>
<small>ALISON AWAKES</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap2">AN hour later the little Mexican settlement was
left behind. Alison had seen Brigida, had given
her warning and had received tearful thanks and repeated
blessings. “You must get him away from
there at once,” Alison had told her, “or he may be discovered.”
And Brigida had assured her that there
were friends and relatives who would go to the assistance
of Carlos. So the girl came out of the stuffy
adobe house where chickens roosted on the chairs, a
game-cock, tied by the leg, occupied one corner, and
where a huge bed took up most of the space. She
wore so happy a face that Neal could but smile in return,
and in spite of the rain and the piercingly cold
wind they made a joyous journey the rest of the way.</p>
<p>“Neal,” whispered the girl, as he lifted her down
before her own door, “you are my own true knight.
I don’t know another who would have let me have my
way without a word, who would have trusted me as
you have done.” And at the look she gave him as
she passed into the house he felt that her hour of
waking was at hand.</p>
<p>Christine was ready with a roaring fire, hot coffee<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span>
and dry clothes for her sister. “Bad, naughty child,”
she exclaimed, “why did you stay so long, and why
did you go off no better protected? You might have
perished with cold if you had been alone. Come in
and get warm and then I will show you what Neal has
brought me.”</p>
<p>“I am not so very cold,” declared Alison. “We
had a good fire at the cabin and I was well wrapped
up when we started, and then we came around the
longer way so we did not face the wind.”</p>
<p>“The longest way round is the shortest way home,”
sang Christine, who seemed in a merry mood. “Isn’t
it good to see Neal again? John is so glad he is back.
For all one can say, no one else is quite so companionable
to John. He says that though Neal is always
ready for a frolic and is no prig, he never forgets that
he is a gentleman and he never disgraces himself by
using bad language and by carousing in the dreadful
way some of his comrades-in-arms did. Yet he always
had their respect and confidence.”</p>
<p>“I know all that,” replied Alison, her eyes shining.</p>
<p>“Come up and I will show you my present,” said
Christine, “such a rare piece as it is. I’ll wager mine
is the best. Has Neal told what he has brought
you?”</p>
<p>Alison was obliged to confess that he had not, but
declared that she knew it was finer than her sister’s.</p>
<p>The two men were out putting up the horses while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span>
the girls were up-stairs. The girls could see them as
they tramped back through the slashing rain. Alison
watched their approach from the little window of her
room. “When you were my age did you know you
were in love with Steve?” she asked her sister suddenly.</p>
<p>“I always knew it,” said Christine quietly. “I
can’t remember the time when I didn’t. Here, Allie,
put on this dry skirt; you will take cold if you wear
that wet one any longer.”</p>
<p>“What time did Neal get here?” asked Alison, mechanically
taking the skirt.</p>
<p>“Quite early. He stayed to dinner and then nothing
would do but he must go in search of you. Where
did he overtake you?”</p>
<p>“Not very far this side of Louisa’s. Just as we
reached that long stretch across the prairie the norther
came up and we turned off into the woods.”</p>
<p>“It’s lucky you did. See, here is the beautiful thing
he brought.” She spread out a piece of gorgeous embroidery
for Alison to admire.</p>
<p>“It would make a magnificent apron,” she said.</p>
<p>“Too magnificent. Where would I wear such a
thing? To spend the afternoon with Hannah Maria?
No, I shall keep it for the front of a gown to wear to
your wedding.” And Alison blushed.</p>
<p>“Let us go down now,” she said hastily. “The
boys have come in.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span>They found not only John and Neal before the
blazing fire, but two travelers driven in by the storm
to seek shelter, and the four were discussing Texas
customs and the political situation.</p>
<p>“I was asked yesterday when I gave my name to a
man,” said one of the travelers, “what my name was
in the States. Rather a sharp comment upon the
character of the immigration to Texas, I thought.”</p>
<p>“It is too bad that so good a country should receive
so large an overflow of shady individuals from the
States,” returned John. “We do have a great many
refugees from the law, but there are some decent men
among us, who do not feel it necessary to take a
different name in order to hide an unenviable identity.
As I think of it, very few, if any, of our immediate
neighbors rest under the shadow of any crime, though
there have been a few desperadoes in our midst. Pike
Smith, you know him, Neal,” he turned to his friend,
“he is said to have worn another name before he came
to Texas. Old Cy Sparks was pretty crooked, but he
was born Cy Sparks and was buried under the same
name. I think most of us, sir, in this vicinity can
produce our family Bibles.”</p>
<p>“I am glad to receive so good a report,” said the
traveler addressed. “When a respectable man is attracted
to a locality and is thinking of settling there
he would rather that his neighbors were not all
escaped criminals.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span>“We cannot boast of many intellectual spirits about
here,” said John, “but further west we have some
German emigrants of the better class, who are building
up a most promising settlement and who have
some scholarly men among them. They had a very
hard experience at first, and had more difficulties
to overcome than is usually the lot of pioneers, but
now their village of New Braunfels is quite a model.
Then there is Castro’s settlement, and others which
have brought a good class of people, so, sir, you see
we are not all cut-throats and horse thieves.”</p>
<p>“I should have denied any such report, sir, after my
own experiences,” returned the gentleman politely, “for
I have met with no finer hospitality than has been
shown me here and, though I have encountered some
roughness, I have been offered nothing but kindly intentions.
What do you think, sir, of the situation in
Mexico? Will it be Anaya or Almonte who will be
the next president? The rapidity with which they
change their presidents is only equaled by that
with which our own army wins its victories over
them.”</p>
<p>“We certainly have been giving it to them good
and hot,” said Neal. “I never saw harder fighting
than at Mexico.”</p>
<p>“You were with the army, sir?” spoke up the
second traveler. “I should like to hear some of your
experiences.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span>“I have but just returned,” Neal told him.</p>
<p>“Mr. Jordan was with McCullough and afterwards
with Jack Hays,” John remarked. “I think, gentlemen,
he can entertain you with some very good
adventures.”</p>
<p>And so the talk went on. Alison, sitting by her
brother’s side, listened eagerly to Neal’s tales of scouting
parties, of raids, of hair-breadth escapes, and in her
interest in the Texas Ranger forgot that there ever
existed in her imagination such a person as Sir Artegall,
so did the present drive out the past. Outside
the norther still raged. It shook the windows and
sent gusts of wind through every crack and cranny, but
inside, before the cheerful fire, the company did not
mind the gale, and the strangers, glad enough of such
comfort and of such excellent companionship, were
rather pleased that they were compelled to defer their
journey till better weather.</p>
<p>It was the third day before the storm passed over
and then it grew suddenly mild and summerlike. The
guests remained until the sun came out and then with
many courteous speeches went upon their way. During
the time of their stay Alison had not had much
opportunity of seeing Neal alone, nor had any news
of the outside world reached her. She wondered if
Carlos had escaped. The weather surely was in his
favor, and she believed there was now no longer any
danger in his direction. She determined, however, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span>
tell Neal nothing till he should be ready to depart
upon his quest.</p>
<p>Upon the afternoon of the day that the norther
ended, Bud Haley made his appearance. As might be
supposed, he was not going to omit taking advantage
of the first opportunity of seeing Neal. His good-natured
face smiled upon the family assembled in
the gallery. “Been a-wonderin’ how you-alls was
a-gittin’ along,” he said. “I wanted to start out two or
three times, but Hannah Mari’ wouldn’t hear to my
doin’ nothing but hug the fire. Well, Neal, back safe,
ain’t ye? Had right smart luck, I think, not losin’ no
limb. Hallo, Allie, we didn’t git our man arter all.
It come on so blamed cold, an’ we give it up after we
beat around for an hour or more. It looked like we’d
ought to got him.”</p>
<p>“What man?” asked John quickly.</p>
<p>“One o’ Pike’s gang. Thought we spotted him
sure. He was footin’ it along the road ahead of us.
Soon as Iry seen him he give a yell and let out his
rope, but the feller jumped a leetle beyond the limit
and got into the bushes. We struck right in after
him, but somehow he got off.”</p>
<p>“Which man was it?” asked John.</p>
<p>“That greaser, Carlos. It did look for one while
like he’d made straight for Pike’s cabin, but we was
out on our calculations. The tracks we saw turned
out to be Neal’s. The greaser must have got picked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span>
up by the wind, it looks to me like, for there was two
or three sets of tracks by the door, and what we
thought his’n we followed straight from the
road.”</p>
<p>Alison was bending forward eagerly listening. She
breathed a sigh of relief. Carlos had escaped.</p>
<p>“You are sure he wasn’t there,” said John.</p>
<p>“There wasn’t nobody there but Allie when we
come by. I reckon she’d hollered if she’d seen him.
He got off somehow, but we’ll have him yet. How’s
things, Neal?”</p>
<p>“Things” being matters in general which would
interest the three men they betook themselves to the
outside, where the sun was shining warm and where
they squatted down comfortably for a good talk till
Bud was ready to take his leave, having loaded himself
with all the news he could obtain from the family
collectively and individually.</p>
<p>Alison stood on the step watching him depart.
John was keeping pace with the horse till he should
be ready to pass through the gate. Christine was
moving about the inner room. Neal leaned against
the side of the house. “Little lady,” he said presently,
“got anything to tell me? I reckon I’ll be starting
off in the morning.”</p>
<p>“So soon?” the words came with unrestrained tones
of regret.</p>
<p>“Yes, don’t you think I’d better be hitchin’ along?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span>
The sooner I get started the sooner I’ll get back, and
the more likely I’ll be to find Steve.”</p>
<p>“That is true, I suppose. Do you know you
haven’t given me my present yet?” she added reproachfully.</p>
<p>“I’ll show it to you.”</p>
<p>Alison stepped down to his side. He took her hand
and laid it in his firm brown palm. Then he looked
down into her eyes and smiled. She did not withdraw
her hand, but glanced away, afraid to meet his
gaze. “It’s a young little hand,” he said, “all pink
and white and dimply. It oughtn’t to work too
hard.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it doesn’t,” said Alison, laughing. “I do no
more than I should, though now there is more to look
after; the negroes to see to and my own sewing to do.
I don’t want my hands to be idle ones, for Satan finds
some mischief still; you know the rest.”</p>
<p>Neal did not answer, but lifted the hand and
touched his lips to the rosy palm. Then still holding
it in his firm clasp he said, “Come, let’s take a walk.
Where’s that little place you used to call your castle
in the chaparral? Is it all overgrown?”</p>
<p>“No, for I have had Pedro keep it cleared. Lolita
and I are very fond of going there. I think the sun
will have dried it up enough for us to go if you want
to see it. Wilt come to my castle, Sir Knight? I
have matters of grave import to discuss with you.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span>Neal chuckled, but became grave before they
reached the place. “This is the moat,” said Alison,
when they reached the tree, “and this limb is the
drawbridge. Now I’m over.” She dropped down
lightly and they stood side by side in the circle.
“Now,” said Alison, “look up into the tree, or the sky
somewhere, till I tell you something.”</p>
<p>“Why not look at you?”</p>
<p>“Because.”</p>
<p>“After such an excellent reason I will look
anywhere but at you. All right. Fire ahead,
Alison.”</p>
<p>And Alison told him of her meeting with Carlos, of
the information he had given her, of her promise to
his mother, concluding with: “And that was why I
had to see Brigida that day.”</p>
<p>“I see.” Neal was silent for a moment.</p>
<p>“Do you think I did wrong?” asked Alison,
anxiously.</p>
<p>“No, not from your standpoint. I reckon anyhow
you did right. The fellow is ignorant, and from what
I have gathered, was only a tool in Pike Smith’s
hands. He’ll have to leave the country, though, if he
wants to save his neck.”</p>
<p>“I warned Brigida of that. Do you know where
that Night Creek is?”</p>
<p>“Just about.”</p>
<p>“Is it far?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span>“Right smart of a ways. You’ve got me some lines
to go on.”</p>
<p>“You haven’t told anybody about your going, have
you?”</p>
<p>“No. I told John I was going off on some business,
but I did not say where. I am glad you can start me
on the right track.” He did not say that even this
was vague enough information, and that the journey
presented more dangers than she knew.</p>
<p>“Now where is my present?” said the girl, holding
out her hand.</p>
<p>Neal fumbled in his pocket and brought forth a
small packet which he gave her. Alison opened it
eagerly. “Oh, how beautiful,” she exclaimed as she
disclosed a hoop of yellow gold set with a single fine
emerald. “I never had a ring before,” she said slipping
it on her finger and viewing it admiringly. Then
she took it off and looked up at him. “I don’t believe
I will wear it—just yet,” she said hesitatingly.</p>
<p>“But when I come back?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I think so. Thank you very, very much,
Neal. It is a very beautiful present, much too good
for me.”</p>
<p>“I thought you were a princess or a lady somebody
or other.”</p>
<p>“Yes, so I like to imagine, but I’d rather not wear
the ring if you don’t mind.”</p>
<p>“Wear it when you please, little lady.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span>“I ought to give you my colors to wear. Here, let
me have your hat.” She took the broad-brimmed
sombrero and twisted in with its gilt cord a blue ribbon
she wore. “There,” she said, “you are fairly
decked. You haven’t a shield, and I haven’t a sleeve
embroidered with pearls, but those are my colors. I
wish I could give you something better to remember
me by when you have brought me such a beautiful
thing as this.” She gazed down at the ring which
she held in her hand.</p>
<p>“Do you think I am likely to forget you?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no. I am too conceited for that.”</p>
<p>“There is one thing I should like. You know, it is
possible—anything is possible—I might not come
back.”</p>
<p>“Don’t, don’t say that!” Alison looked at him in
alarm. “Is it going to be very, very dangerous?”</p>
<p>“Not more so than any other undertaking. Not as
much so as going to war or as heaps of Injun fights.”</p>
<p>“Oh, then, I don’t feel so badly as if it were something
worse. And what is it I can give you?”</p>
<p>He took both her hands, the ring clasped between
them. “You can give me one kiss to remember,” he
said very gravely, very tenderly.</p>
<p>She dropped her eyes to the strong muscular hands
enfolding hers. Over her came a partial realization
of what he was about to do for her sake, of what he
might have to endure before she should see him again.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span>
She lifted her face as a child might and he kissed her
gently. Then he released her hands and stood looking
at her. The red blood rushed to her cheeks. She
seemed so young, so innocent, that he felt a reverence
for her as truly as did any knight for his lady.</p>
<p>At this moment Christine’s voice was heard calling:</p>
<p>“Alison, Alison, where are you?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I must go,” murmured the girl. And still
clasping her ring she caught the limb of the tree, found
her foothold and reached the road, leaving Neal to
follow.</p>
<p>She held out the ring in her palm when she came
up to her sister standing on the step. “See, see, my
present,” she said exultantly. “Isn’t it beautiful?”</p>
<p>Christine took the ring and examined it carefully.
Then she looked at the girl searchingly, but Alison’s
eager face showed no consciousness.</p>
<p>“It is beautiful,” said Christine. “Are you going
to wear it?”</p>
<p>A soft color swept over Alison’s face. “No, not
yet,” she said. And, passing her sister, she went into
the house. Christine looked after her and sighed
gently.</p>
<p>The next morning Neal took his departure, his last
smile and hand clasp for Alison. “I’ll come back as
soon as I can,” he said.</p>
<p>“And you will write?” she asked.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span>“If I can. If I have anything to tell.” And he
rode away.</p>
<p>“My knight goes forth,” whispered Alison to herself.
She watched him between the waving sweep of
prairie till he was lost to view. Then she turned to
her sister and said wistfully, “Oh, Christine, I shall
miss him so, I shall miss him so.”</p>
<p>“Why, my dear, my dear,” Christine looked with
tender concern at the eyes full of tears, “does it matter
so much to you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, I don’t know,” replied Alison rushing
up to her room.</p>
<p>All day long she thought of him who had ridden
towards the west. In the evening she got out her
copy of the “Faerie Queen” and pored over it till her
mind was full of the terrors of the forest, of hidden
foes, of wounded knights, of desperate combats, and
she dreamed of them and, waking in the middle of the
night, started up imagining she saw Neal in the hands
of fierce Indians. “The Apaches! The Apaches!”
she cried out, and sank down on her pillow sobbing
convulsively.</p>
<p>Her cry awoke her sister who turned to soothe her,
patting her as she would a child. “Why, Alison, dear
child, you must have had a horrid dream,” she said.
“Go to sleep. There are no Indians.”</p>
<p>But Alison did not go to sleep. In the fastnesses
of the mountains she knew there were Indians. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span>
had sent her knight into their midst. What folly!
what folly! Why had she not considered the danger?
She clasped the ribbon by which she had swung her
ring around her neck and feeling for the circlet she
softly kissed it. “Oh, Neal, Neal,” she whispered,
“if I could call you back, I would. I didn’t know. I
didn’t know.” She lay very still listening to Christine’s
quiet breathing, and it came over her that now
for the first time, she comprehended the meaning and
the misery of hope deferred. “I was thinking of you,
and not of him, Christine,” she murmured, “and you
have not given up hope in all this long while, then
why should I so soon? They will come back together.”
And seeking her sister’s hand she held it till she
slept.</p>
<p>But the next morning she took the ring from its ribbon
and wore it proudly on her hand. Christine
looked at it questioningly.</p>
<p>“When Neal comes back I want him to see it there,”
said Alison, but she would discuss the subject no
further.</p>
<p>“I believe Alison is very fond of Neal,” Christine
said to her brother later in the day.</p>
<p>“I’m glad of it,” returned John. “She’s all the
world to him. He told me so two years ago, but I
reminded him that she was but a child; that she had
not waked up yet.”</p>
<p>“She has waked up now,” said Christine.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII<br>
<small>LOLITA</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap2">ALL winter long Alison hoped for news from Neal,
but not so much as a word had come when
spring was fairly arrived, and many were the fears
which possessed the girl as time went by and she dwelt
upon the possibilities of that adventure into which
her knight had gone. But the events of every day occupied
her, and with Christine’s patience as a model
she did not give way to any actual despair.</p>
<p>During this time it is not to be supposed that she
saw nothing of Lolita, though, be the fact known,
Lolita was much concerned in her own affairs and had
room for little else in her thoughts. Blythe no longer
made a secret of his devotion, and his family for some
time had suspected that his visits to the Rosses’ rancho
were not on Alison’s account, this especially after
Alison began to wear her ring openly, and had confided
to Laura that Neal had given it to her.</p>
<p>“Dear, dear, and I hoped you would be my sister,”
said Laura.</p>
<p>“Well, so I shall be,” replied Alison, “for surely,
miss, you will not play the coquette with my brother.”</p>
<p>As no one before had ever hinted that Laura possessed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span>
any of the qualities of a coquette, she was covered
with confusion and indignantly repudiated any such
charge. “You know better than to say such a thing
as that, Alison Ross,” she said.</p>
<p>“How was I to know better after your speech,
Laura Ross that is to be,” laughed Alison. “You are
in a box, and may as well own up. When is it to be?
Come, tell me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, why—Alison, I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“But some day, truly?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I suppose I may acknowledge that it will be
some day, but now we are all troubled about Blythe.
I did think that when he married and brought his wife
home I might be satisfied to leave my mother.”</p>
<p>“Then why not have it so?”</p>
<p>“Because she whom I hoped he would marry, has
thoughts of another.”</p>
<p>“If you mean me,” returned Alison frankly, “John
might have told you it would not be so.”</p>
<p>“How did he know?”</p>
<p>“He knew before I did,” said Alison, but would not
explain this enigmatical speech.</p>
<p>After this it was an accepted fact that Laura would
one day go to live at the Ross rancho, and the intimacy
between the two families was even greater than before.
Therefore it was no surprise to Alison when
Laura one day hunted her up as she was busy with a
brood of young chicks.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span>“Hallo,” said Laura, looking over the fence of the
chicken yard. “A new brood, Alison?”</p>
<p>“Yes, these are just out to-day. Did you come over
alone, Laura?”</p>
<p>“No, mother came with me. She is so worried
about Blythe and wants to talk over the trouble with
Christine, and see if nothing can be done to cure the
boy of his infatuation for that wretched Mexican girl.
Mother says she will never, never consent to the
match.”</p>
<p>“But why? Isn’t Lolita pretty enough for a
daughter in-law?” asked Alison, as she put the last
chick under its clucking mother.</p>
<p>“What a flippant answer,” said Laura.</p>
<p>“Then is it because Blythe is the first American
who has wanted to marry a Mexican?”</p>
<p>Laura was silent and Alison rising from her stooping
posture shook out her skirts, and picked up the
basket in which she had kept the chicks. “I am sure
Lolita is a good, modest, beautiful, sweet-tempered,
capable girl, much better in every way than most you
meet. What possible objection is there to her?”</p>
<p>“She is not of our religion in the first place.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think that her own is so serious a matter to
her that she would not be perfectly willing to accept
her husband’s. What does she know of the faith of
her fathers? Once a year, maybe, she sees the old
padre; she says her prayers dutifully every day as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span>
she was taught; she believes only what she has been
told she ought to believe. She has never thought for
herself, and she is so obedient that she would be a
tractable subject for your efforts at conversion.”</p>
<p>“But her father, would he not make trouble if we
tried to change her beliefs?”</p>
<p>“It wouldn’t make a particle of difference to him.
Old Pedro has no special belief; he told me so. Lolita’s
happiness has always been, and will always be,
his first consideration. He has many American
friends, and is not the bigoted old man you would
think. Pedro is really a very superior person, if he is
only a greaser. If you knew Lolita as well as I do you
would see what a lovable girl she is and would be
glad to welcome her as a sister.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps you would like to have had her for your
sister,” said Laura, who had always been a little
jealous of Alison’s love for Lolita.</p>
<p>“If I had another brother I shouldn’t in the least
mind, but as it is, I am perfectly well satisfied with
John’s choice,” returned Alison, which oil-upon-the-waters
speech caused Laura a pang of repentance
after her tart remark.</p>
<p>“Come,” she said, “use your arguments with
mother. I confess you do make the matter seem
less dreadful.” And the two went to the house,
where Mrs. Van Dorn was in close converse with
Christine.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span>She held out her hand to Alison. “I came over to
escape a sudden and dreadful fit of cleaning which
has possessed our old Hitty,” she explained. “She
cannot be made to endure a systematic weekly
scrubbing of the floors, but once in a while she undertakes
the whole place, souses and swashes and
flings water all over the rooms and ends by lifting
up a board and sweeping all the overflow into the
cavity. She persistently refuses to get down on her
hands and knees to scrub, as my servants at home
used to do.”</p>
<p>Alison laughed. “Oh, we have become quite used
to that method. You see, the houses at home are not
built on piles as these are down here. Consider how
much easier it is to lift a board, which is always left
loose for that purpose, and to swash the water down
on the ground where it will run off, instead of laboriously
carrying it outside and emptying it.”</p>
<p>“I must confess the plan has the advantage of
saving muscle,” said Mrs. Van Dorn, “but I cannot
get used to thinking it as clean a process as ours.
Come here, dear, and sit down. Christine and I have
been talking over a matter much more serious to me
than house-cleaning. I want you to assure me that
this is but a youthful madness of Blythe’s and that I
really am to welcome to my home a daughter much
more to my taste than a wretched little Mexican.”</p>
<p>“But my dear Mrs. Van Dorn, if you mean Lolita,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span>
she is not the wretched little Mexican you think. I
assure you she is of good Spanish stock, and except
for the prejudice against Mexicans, which Texans
hold, I don’t see why she shouldn’t be as acceptable
as any other girl. Have you met her? Have you
talked to her? She is not uneducated and has the
sweetest manners.”</p>
<p>“I have seen her, but I have held no conversation
with her.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you think her very beautiful?”</p>
<p>“She is very pretty, I am obliged to confess, though
I always prefer a fairer style of beauty,—however
that is but a matter of taste,—but to think of my
only son’s marrying one of her class is something I
cannot endure.”</p>
<p>“Would you rather he would marry Eliza Jane
Binney, or Annamela Stuckett?”</p>
<p>“Oh, my dear, why need he marry either of them?
Ah, Alison, why cannot you save him and us from an
unfortunate alliance? He is very young, barely of
age. If you would but encourage him he would
probably get over this fancy.”</p>
<p>“I couldn’t encourage him for two reasons,” replied
Alison. “One is that I could never be so disloyal to
a friend as to try to steal away her lover. Lolita’s
friendship is dear to me and I want to be worthy of
it, because I love her. The other reason is,” she
looked down at the sparkling jewel on her hand,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span>
“that there is some one else whom I would not give
up for any man living.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Van Dorn looked the disappointment she felt,
and released Alison’s hand which she had been holding.
“In that case,” she said, after a moment’s
silence, “I suppose I must give up the hope I have
indulged in this year past. My only chance is to
appeal to the girl. I suppose I can see her?” She
turned to Christine.</p>
<p>“Please don’t say anything to hurt her feelings,”
said Alison impulsively.</p>
<p>“My dear,” replied Mrs. Van Dorn, with dignity,
“I hope I know enough not to wilfully injure any
one. If the girl has the good sense and the refinement
you invest her with, she will understand what I
wish to convey without many words of mine. Christine,
will you go with me to her house? and then, if
you do not mind, I should like to see her privately.”</p>
<p>Christine had no alternative but to consent, and the
two started for the small cabin just outside the door
of which Lolita was busy with her tortillas. She was
singing a little song:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="first">“Baila preciosa niña,</div>
<div class="verse">Baila sin mas tardar.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>It had a sweet and spring-like melody, though a
minor cadence ran through it, in spite of the joyous
movement it suggested. Mrs. Van Dorn could but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span>
admire the picture the girl made against the background
of spring green, her arms moving with youthful
grace as she slapped her tortillas from hand to hand
keeping time to her song.</p>
<p>As she saw who accompanied Christine she looked
up with a startled expression, and the tortilla fell to
the ground unnoticed. She stepped back as if to retreat,
and then with eyes downcast, came forward
and stood the pattern of girlish confusion.</p>
<p>“Lolita, this is Mrs. Van Dorn who has come to see
you,” said Christine, and Lolita made a timid obeisance.
It was a moment fraught with terror for her,
and she would willingly have escaped.</p>
<p>But her courtesy did not forsake her. “My father’s
house is yours, señora,” she said. “Will you
enter?”</p>
<p>“Is it not more pleasant outside?” said Mrs. Van
Dorn. “I will sit here, if you will allow. Christine,
are not those magnolias nearly in bloom? I
wonder if you would get me a bud. They are the
first I have seen.” And Christine, thus dismissed,
left Lolita to face the situation alone.</p>
<p>For a moment Mrs. Van Dorn said nothing, but sat
looking at the girl standing before her, eyes downcast
and hands clasped. It was useless to deny that she
was a beautiful creature. Surely one would needs go
far to find a maiden so near perfection. Her face in
repose was very serious. The casual observer might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span>
have called it cold unless he saw the expression of her
eyes.</p>
<p>“My son has been visiting you, I believe,” Mrs. Van
Dorn began. “He is a very good friend of yours, is
he not?”</p>
<p>“Si, señora. Yes, madam, I am have the honor to
call him so.”</p>
<p>“Do not stand,” said her visitor. And Lolita
gravely seated herself upon the grass, leaving the
bench for her guest’s sole occupancy. “I wish to
know——” Mrs. Van Dorn felt that it was brutal
for a stranger to try to probe the girl’s secrets, but
she remembered her son and steeled herself to go on.
“I wish to know if my son is more than a friend; if
he has said things to you such as young men will say
and to which girls like to listen.”</p>
<p>Lolita raised her solemn eyes. “He has said many
beautiful thing to me,” she answered.</p>
<p>“He has asked you to marry him, perhaps, and you
have answered—what?”</p>
<p>“He has my heart,” said Lolita simply. One who
thought her cold should have seen the light of deep
emotion which overspread her face.</p>
<p>Mrs. Van Dorn hesitated. It was difficult to go on.
This was no worldly-wise damsel ready to assert her
rights, to defy interference, to claim her own. What
could a mother say to such a girl as this?</p>
<p>“My son is very ambitious,” she continued. “We<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span>
are ambitious for him. My husband wished him to
study law and some day he might rise to be a judge.
It is my wish also. He is my only son. I have great
hopes in him. I think he is too young to marry.”
This subterfuge came suddenly; it was not what she
had meant to say, but with those soulful eyes upon
her she could not come to her point at once. She
turned her gaze away to where Christine was dutifully
gathering flowers.</p>
<p>Lolita made no answer. It was not her place to
take the initiative, and consequently the difficulties
for the mother increased. “I do not mean,” she went
on, “that I never wish him to marry, but that it may
be later on when he knows his own mind better,” and
then she paused. “His sisters, his family, I, myself,
would like to see him marry a young woman who
could win him friends, who could help him in his
career and gain him popularity. A man’s wife can
be either a great help or a great hindrance to him.”
She spoke as if impersonally, but Lolita understood.
Her dark eyelashes swept her cheek. She was very
pale. “Don’t you think so?” Mrs. Van Dorn went
on, feeling the girl’s silence a reproach.</p>
<p>“I think yes. I think who loves should not wish
to harm her beloved.”</p>
<p>“Ah!” Mrs. Van Dorn breathed with satisfaction.
“I felt sure that you would be sensible and that you
would understand that this boy and girl affair is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span>
merely youthful folly, and that you will soon outgrow
it. You are too fair a blossom not to be gathered by
some brave young Mexican, and you will soon forget
that you ever thought of doing a thing so foolish as to
marry an Americano.”</p>
<p>“I shall not forget—no. What is it that you wish
for him? that you wish me to do for him? I do not
quite understand.”</p>
<p>To tell her exactly what she did wish seemed the
height of cruelty, but Mrs. Van Dorn had gone too
far to retreat. “My dear little girl,” she said, “I
hope I am thinking of your own happiness as well as
my son’s when I say that I wish to be assured that
you have no thought of marrying Blythe, that you
will tell him so and ask him not to see you again.”</p>
<p>A quiver of pain passed over the girl’s face and the
clasp of her hands tightened.</p>
<p>“It will really make but little difference to you in
a few months,” said the mother, trying to be jocular.
“You will forget and I shall hear of your wedding
before long, I am sure.”</p>
<p>Lolita bowed her head, her attitude one of resigned
grief. In a very low voice she said, “He has my
heart but I will not marry him to make him sorry
some days. I will not marry to keep him from to be
what you are wishing. No, no. You are the mother;
you have the right to say obey, and I obey, but I think
I am die; I think I am die.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span>She lifted her face marble-like in its pallor; but
suddenly she sprang to her feet with a scream. At
the same instant Mrs. Van Dorn who had moved her
arm to rest it upon the low window ledge heard a
whirring sound, then felt a sharp, agonizing pain.
Lolita sprang towards her, grasped her wrist and applied
her lips to the burning spot, unheeding the fact
that the rattlesnake which had been disturbed in his
exit from the house, had also attacked her as she
thrust him aside.</p>
<p>Her scream brought Christine running to find Mrs.
Van Dorn in an agony of fright and Lolita on her
knees drawing the poison from the wound. “What is
it? What is it?” cried Christine.</p>
<p>“A snake, a dreadful rattler,” said Mrs. Van Dorn.
“Oh, child, child!” the tears began to course down
her cheeks.</p>
<p>“Where is the snake? Did it strike you, Lolita?”
asked Christine.</p>
<p>“I do not know. Yes, I think. There, madam, I
do not believe you are to suffer,” she added.</p>
<p>“But you, you,” said Christine.</p>
<p>“It does not matter,” said Lolita dully. “It is only
my father who will care. For me it does not matter.”</p>
<p>“Hush, hush, such talk will never do. Come with
me, both of you,” ordered Christine. And fairly
dragging Lolita, Mrs. Van Dorn running by her side,
she hurried to the house. “Quick, quick, Alison,” she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span>
called when she was within hearing. “Get the rattlesnake
cure. Mrs. Van Dorn and Lolita have been
struck by a rattler.”</p>
<p>Alison was not long in bringing a piece of the root
which every Texan provided himself with. It was
poisonous of itself, but was considered a sure antidote
for the bite of the rattlesnake, if taken in time. In
Mrs. Van Dorn’s case it was quite positive that Lolita’s
prompt measures had been effective, but the girl’s condition
was doubtful, and among those who tended her
Mrs. Van Dorn was the most devoted, her tears never
ceasing to flow as she did so.</p>
<p>Laura was completely unnerved, even after she
knew that her mother was out of danger. Mrs. Van
Dorn drew her to one side. “I cannot leave while
that child is in the least danger,” she said, “but you
had better go home, Laura. Tell them I am detained
and send Blythe to me as soon as you can.”</p>
<p>In the course of an hour it was decided that the
antidote had proved efficacious and that Lolita was in
no danger, though this fact seemed to bring her little
satisfaction. Alison, who hovered over her and spoke
caressing words to her, did not marvel at her drooping
appearance, though it gave Mrs. Van Dorn a sharp
pang. Pedro had gone to the village and therefore
was not on hand to share the general anxiety, a fact
of which all were glad.</p>
<p>Not even when Blythe entered did Lolita’s demeanor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span>
change. She sat with head drooped on her breast and
made no movement to speak to any one.</p>
<p>Mrs. Van Dorn hurried out with the others to meet
him. “My son, my son,” she cried, “we have had a
great escape. Your mother was struck by a rattler
and might have died but for that dear child Lolita
Garcia.” The tears came again to her eyes. “And
what had I done? Struck her as cruel a blow as it
was possible for woman to strike. And she received
it with meekness and obedience, rewarding me a
moment after by utterly forgetting herself and trying
to save me. Oh, Blythe, Blythe, I give up. I have
no word to say against your choice.” She put her
head down on her son’s shoulder and wept softly.
Then she led him to the room where Lolita sat as
motionless as a statue. Dropping on her knees by the
girl’s side and touching her lips to the dull purple spot
on the round smooth arm she said: “Dear little girl,
here is my son. Will you tell him that he has a very
cruel mother, but that you forgive her and will be her
daughter some day, for she has suddenly realized that
a true heart and an unselfish spirit are worth more
than honors or fame can bring. Lolita, dear little
Lolita, I want you to call me mother.”</p>
<p>“The light that never was on land or sea” glorified
Lolita’s face as Blythe, forgetting all else, even his
mother, thought only that he had come near to
losing Lolita, and taking her in his arms he murmured<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span>
the words she loved to hear: “Mi corazon, mi vida,
mi alma.”</p>
<p>“I have but one request to make,” said Mrs. Van
Dorn after the three had settled down happily side by
side. “You will not marry for a year or so yet, will
you, my son?”</p>
<p>Blythe looked down at the girl beside him. “It
shall be as Lolita says.”</p>
<p>“You must always do as your mother wish,” she
said softly. And at this continued evidence of her
sweetness, the mother’s last regret vanished.</p>
<p>Going to the door she called the others. “Come
in, girls, congratulations are in order. I wish to announce
the engagement of my son, Blythe Van Dorn,
to Miss Lolita Garcia.”</p>
<p>She could not have chosen a moment more fortunate
if she had wished the matter quickly to be noised
abroad, for Hannah Maria had seen Laura riding by,
had stopped and had learned of the disaster. So,
gathering together her most notable remedies, she
started forth at once, appearing in her dun-colored
costume just in time to hear the announcement.</p>
<p>“Well, now,” she exclaimed, “ain’t I lucky? I
started out to nurse the sick and I git in jest in time
for a love story. Ain’t it jest my good luck? My,
my! I certainly am glad I come.” She beamed happily
on Blythe, offered him her snuffy fingers, and
kissed Lolita with expansive affection. “It’s wonderful,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span>
she said, “how love gits its way. I reckon that’s
for why the Marster made rattlers,” for Mrs. Van
Dorn had not hesitated to confess that she had attempted
the rôle of cruel parent and that she had
failed in the face of Lolita’s lovely behavior.</p>
<p>“I’ll jest hev to hurry back an’ tell Bud,” Hannah
Maria went on. “Come over soon, gals, an’ you
bring Loliter, Blythe. You hear me, gals, your time’s
a-comin’. Jest look how love is a workin’ out. Thar’s
John and Laury, and Lou and Iry, and now these two.
Jest keep on a-lookin’ fur your Mr. Right, Allie; he’s
comin’ along. An’ you, too, Tina, don’t give up
a-hopin’. Folks has come back after twenty year.”
And she rode away on her old white mule, enveloped
in an atmosphere of romance.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX<br>
<small>THE RETURN OF SIR ARTEGALL</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">SPRING had expanded into summer, the magnolias
had given place to gaudier blooms, and still
came no word from Alison’s knight. She had kept
the secret of his quest well, but because of his long
absence and the continued silence Christine began to
fear that he, like many another, had been ready to
love and ride away, and she noted the sober moods of
her sister with the sympathy born of her own experience.
Christine was listless, this hot summer weather,
her usual alertness of manner had left her, and there
were days when she rested a great deal, when a sharp
headache would send her to a darkened room’s seclusion
and quiet.</p>
<p>It was one of these times when Alison left her sister
to procure possible sleep, and stole softly down-stairs.
The day’s greatest heat was over, for the sun had set.
Alison walked slowly down the path to the gate and
stood there looking westward. Many, many times
had she turned her eyes in that direction to see but
the waving grass of the prairie against a line of cloudless
sky. This evening the west was gorgeous with
piled up masses of purple and red. Along the horizon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span>
a flaming yellow burned. “It is like a fire,” thought
Alison, “a fiery furnace.”</p>
<p>Presently against the yellow streak appeared two
moving specks. Alison watched them idly; two birds,
perhaps. But as they grew larger and larger she perceived
that they were men riding leisurely towards
her. She watched to see if they would turn off where
the road diverged and went on past the wood towards
Louisa’s house, but they kept on, coming nearer,
nearer, till what at first was but idle curiosity on
the part of the girl became intense interest. Surely
there was something familiar in the square shoulders,
the set of the head, the easy carriage of the man upon
the right. Her heart beat tumultuously, her eager
eyes never took themselves from those advancing
figures. Now they had passed the woods and were
turning up by the chaparral at the angle where
Pedro’s cabin stood. They halted here a moment,
then came steadily on. Alison clutched the fence
hard; there was a buzzing in her ears; her pulses
were flying. Nearer and nearer they came till she
saw that they were indeed no chance travelers, but
Neal Jordan, and could it be Stephen? That slight,
gaunt man swaying in his saddle?</p>
<p>The world was now bathed in a golden glory; purple
and red had changed to rose and gray overhead;
the yellow flame had crept up like a mounting fire till
it overspread all the west, illumining tree and shrub<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span>
and prairie grass. Its gleams struck the silver mountings
on the horsemen’s saddles, ran along the barrels
of their rifles laid across their knees, and stole under
the shadows of their sombreros to light up their faces.</p>
<p>The girl uttered a smothered cry, a sob of joy, and,
turning, rushed to the house and up to the darkened
room where her sister lay. She ran to the bed and
bent over the quiet figure. “Oh, Christine, Christine,”
she cried, “he is coming! They are coming!”</p>
<p>Christine raised herself on her elbow. “Who?
Who?” she asked in a shaking voice. “What do
you mean, Alison?”</p>
<p>“They are coming. At last they are coming. You
didn’t know that Neal went, that I sent him, to find
Steve, and oh, Christine, he has found him. They are
coming.”</p>
<p>“Thank God! Thank God!” Christine tottered to
her feet, and the two fell into each other’s arms, weeping
hysterically.</p>
<p>Below stairs there was the sound of feet moving
across the gallery slowly, as if supporting a burden.
“Come, come,” said Alison grasping her sister’s hand.
And they went down to find that John, too, had seen
the approach of his friends, and with Neal’s assistance
was helping Steve into the house. He lay exhausted
upon the couch. Christine dropped on her knees beside
him. He raised a feeble hand and laid it on her
head. “I’ve got here at last, Tina,” he said; “I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span>
thought I’d peg out before I did, but Neal kept me
up, God bless him.”</p>
<p>Christine had no words; she could only kneel there
sobbing. All the pent-up grief of the past years found
vent at last. He had come, and although pale and
thin and worn, he was safe.</p>
<p>Under a mask of lightness Alison hid her real feelings.
She looked at Neal and laughed. “Well, little
lady,” he said, “I did it.”</p>
<p>“So I see,” she returned. “Right glad am I to
welcome you back again, Sir Artegall.” She backed
away towards the door between the rooms.</p>
<p>“And my reward,” said Neal following her up.</p>
<p>“I promised you my hand, didn’t I?” She slipped
through the door and swung it together, holding it
fast. Presently she opened it a crack, and her hand
wearing its ring, appeared. “Here it is,” she said.
With a quick movement Neal flung the door open and
caught her. Then the door swung to and they passed
out into the open air. The soft dusk had settled
down suddenly. The jar of night insects was beginning
to be heard; dim-winged moths fluttered out from
their retreats; from the vine over the porch a mocking-bird
sent forth its song. The yellow glory had
faded to a tender line of palest light along the west.
Alison stood facing it.</p>
<p>“You have given me your hand,” said Neal, “but
you know I said I wanted your heart with it.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span>Alison, suddenly subdued, and with a memory of
those months of long waiting, dropped her flippant
manner. “You have it, Neal,” she said very seriously.</p>
<p>“Then you think your knight has won his spurs?”</p>
<p>“All that knight ever won is not too much for you.
I don’t care anything more for Sir Artegall. I am
perfectly satisfied with Neal Jordan.”</p>
<p>“He is no such hero as you pretend,” said Neal,
looking down at her and holding her hands in his.
“There’s a good many kinds of sense I haven’t got,
Alison, my darling, and I reckon I shall make you
mad pretty often on account of what I lack, but I
reckon even a smart lawyer couldn’t work out more
ways of loving you.”</p>
<p>“As if you needed to tell me that,” she replied.
“Is there another man in the world would have had
sense enough to find Steve? Come, I want to speak
to him, I have had no chance; and we want to hear
the story of your adventures before you entirely give
up your knightly character.”</p>
<p>“Just a minute longer,” begged Neal.</p>
<p>“No; we shall have a lifetime in most of which we
shall have no society but each other’s; let’s be generous
now and give some one else a share while we can,”
and she ran into the house leaving him to follow.</p>
<p>Christine was sitting quietly by Steve’s side, her
hand in his. John was pacing the floor. He stopped<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span>
his walk as Alison entered, with Neal behind her.
“Well, well,” he said, “I am the happiest man alive,
to-night.”</p>
<p>“No,” said Neal, putting his arm around Alison.
“I am the happiest man.”</p>
<p>“You can’t out-class me,” came from Steve’s corner.</p>
<p>John laughed. “Then it seems we are a jovial
crowd all around. I see it’s all right, Neal? The
little girl has waked up.”</p>
<p>“She is very wide awake,” answered Alison, “and
has been this long time, though she didn’t tell you,
you dear old John.”</p>
<p>John held out his hand to his old comrade. “I repeat,
that I am the happiest man alive, with the prospect
of calling my two best friends my brothers. I’ve
been waiting for you to come in, old fellow, so as to
hear your story, and Steve’s. I don’t know how these
girls feel; they may be satisfied to wait, but I confess
I have an attack of curiosity that would do credit to
Hannah Maria Haley, and I want to hear your
stories.”</p>
<p>“They are pretty much of a oneness,” said Neal,
“from the time I struck Steve’s trail. If he isn’t too
tuckered out with this day’s journey, let him start in
and I’ll come up at the finish.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I can talk now,” said Steve. “I’ve got the
rest of time to rest in.”</p>
<p>“Begin back there with the day you left these<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span>
parts,” said John. “We’ve been waiting three years
to know why you didn’t meet us at Denton the day we
came in from the States.”</p>
<p>“Then I’ll begin right there,” said Steve. “I was
starting home across the prairie that day, when first
thing I knew, whiz, came a rope through the air and
I was jerked off my horse to the ground. At first I
thought it was Injuns, but presently I saw three men,
two white men and a Mexican. One swung his rope
and made after my horse, Hero, who galloped off at
such a pretty pace that he got away. All three men
put after him, and I was dragged along the ground
till I got pretty sick of it and was as battered as an
old cocked hat. Well, as I said, Hero up with his
heels and streaked it like the wind, and the fellows
didn’t get him. After they had bumped me around
till I felt as if my bones had all shifted place, they
picked me up and carried me off to a little old cabin
in the woods. Then I saw that the three men were
Pike Smith, old Cy Sparks and a greaser. It was Pike
that had roped me. He had a grudge against me because
he had his eye on Hero when I bought him, and
I got ahead of him in the deal. He swore then that
he’d get even with me, and I ought to have been looking
out for trouble. Cy had been so keen for the
horse he hadn’t noticed that Pike was amusing himself
with playing I was a dog at the end of a string,
and he was right smart put out about it; said they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span>
weren’t after men, and swore he’d inform on Pike if
he tried to get rid of me. Pike told him he reckoned
there was information to be given on both sides, and
he could send Cy to kingdom come if he chose.
They had it hot and heavy for awhile. Pike had a
nasty temper and vowed he’d rid the world of me, but
Cy finally said he could get Pike’s neck in a halter
without implicating himself, and he would do it pretty
quick if Pike offered to do me harm. So after a while
Pike compromised by saying he was sick of seeing me
around anyhow, and he meant to get me out of the
country for one while. So they settled on that. An
old Mexican woman nursed me like a mother and in
two or three days I was packed on a mule and taken
along by Pike, and the man, Carlos, with a lot of
horses over the border. Cy didn’t go along. I believe
his department was the home office. He managed
that end of the business, as I understood. We struck
out west, keeping out of the way of settlements as
much as we could, and seeing nobody to speak to till
we got up into the mountains. Most of the horses
had been disposed of before then, and the rest were
handed over to the pards who were waiting in the
mountain camp. They were to take them on further
and sell them, Pike waiting there till they got back.
It never has been quite clear to me just what Pike’s
intentions were towards me, but I think he meant to
get rid of me as accidentally as he could. Anyway,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span>
we started off again after a few days and hadn’t gone
far before one of the men came piling back like he had
been shot out of a cannon. He said the gang had been
set on by Injuns and every one but himself had been
killed, and the horses taken. They were right after
him and we’d best get out of the way as quick as we
could. His horse was about done for and there wasn’t
enough to go around, so as each wanted to save his
own neck and I was in Pike’s way anyhow, I was left
behind with a pistol, a blanket, and some food that
Carlos had the decency to leave me.”</p>
<p>“Ah, but I’m glad I saved him,” said Alison.</p>
<p>“What’s that?” asked Steve.</p>
<p>“Never mind; it is a tame story compared to yours,”
replied Alison. “Go on, Steve, unless you are tired.”</p>
<p>“I’ll go on and get through with it. Well, it looked
scary for a man who hadn’t anything better’n his own
legs to carry him over that country where it was overrun
with Injuns, but I jogged along the best I could,
dodging the redskins, climbing mountains, swimming
streams, killing game for food, and living as it happened.
Fortunately I was something of a woodsman
and knew some tricks that were of service to me. The
Injuns were pretty likely to be skulking about, and
once or twice I came on their camp-fires, hardly cold,
but I managed to get off scot free. Once I was shot
at from the bushes, and once I came near drowning.
I reckon nobody ever saw a wilder country, rocks and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span>
precipices, cañons, ravines and mountain streams; and
all sorts of cattle in the woods: bears, wolves and wild-cats.
I wonder I got through alone and with no better
weapon than a pistol, and a bowie-knife that one of
the men left behind him, there in the camp.”</p>
<p>“My prayers for you were answered,” said Christine,
lifting his hand and laying her cheek against it.</p>
<p>“I reckon that was it,” returned Steve simply.
“Well, sirs, after a time I happened on a town or two,
and learned that if I struck out north I’d reach Santa
Fé. I hadn’t gone far before I fell in with some
American troops on their way to California. I learned
what was going on in that direction and made up my
mind to join them. It seemed about the best thing I
could do at that time. After a while we met Kit Carson
on his way to Washington with despatches from
Colonel Stockton, and General Kearney persuaded him
to hand over his despatches and said he would have
them delivered by a safe hand if Carson would pilot
us to California. I was so far from home by this time
that I thought I might as well go further and see
something of service. I’d made up my mind anyhow
to go if the war broke out and one division of the
army was as good as another, so I did my best till I
was taken prisoner and lay in a nasty Indian village
for months. I was rescued just when I thought I had
come to the end of my limit, taken to Santa Fé, more
dead than alive, and there Neal found me. That’s the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span>
story. I reckon I’ll let some one else do the talking
now.” He lay back exhausted, and Alison slipped
from the room, returning with a glass of fresh milk
which he drank eagerly.</p>
<p>“They’re going to spoil me, Neal,” he said; “I can
see that.”</p>
<p>“You’ll take right smart of spoiling,” said John,
“before you’re where you ought to be.”</p>
<p>“I’m better than I look,” Steve declared. “All I
want is a little strength. Suppose you let ’em hear
from you, Neal.”</p>
<p>“Well, you know when I started out I hadn’t much
to go on,” began Neal. “But I knew one thing; that
the last seen of Steve was in the valley of the Guadalupe,
not far from Night Creek, and I made for that
place as straight as I could, following a trail I found.
I got along as well as could be expected, had a good
horse, and packed what I could. I didn’t meet any
ogres or such creeturs, which wasn’t surprising to me,
whatever it may be to some others.” He looked at
Alison and laughed.</p>
<p>“Quit your foolishness,” she said. “Go on.”</p>
<p>“I went on. I’ve been going on ever since I left
here. Well, sirs, after a time, didn’t I stumble on that
very camp of Pike’s? and there he was as large as
life and twice as natural, with a gang of about six
others. He was as surprised a scamp as ever you did
see when I called him by name, but I saw at once<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span>
that I might as well have struck an Injun camp, and
that I’d better get out as quick as I could, so I ponied
out between dark and daylight, and came near running
full tilt into a band of Injuns, but they weren’t
looking for me any more than I was for them, so I lay
low and sort of circled around till I came bump upon
the camp again. It was a good thing I had the gumption
to light out when I did, for if those blamed redskins
hadn’t ferreted out that camp and there was
every man scalped and as dead as a door-nail.”</p>
<p>“And so the Blatant Beast was killed after all and
by another hand than yours,” said Alison.</p>
<p>“I can’t say that I was overcome with grief,” said
Neal, “though it wasn’t a pretty company to stay
with. Still, when I looked at ’em and thought their
mothers would like them to have Christian burial,
whatever sort of beasts they were, I concluded it
wouldn’t hurt me to stay long enough to get them
underground decently. Then I packed the few things
the Injuns had left and came on. I knew if Steve had
got away at all, he was likely to travel towards Santa
Fé and so I set my face in that direction. But if I
thought I had left danger behind me I was mistaken,
for the mountains are full of the savagest kinds of
Indians and that I got through with a whole skin was
more by good luck than good management. I was
glad enough to get out of the mountains and down
into the valley where it was easier traveling. In one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span>
of the little towns I got my first clue to Steve. Not
many white people had visited them until the Americanos
had come with an army to take possession of
the country, but there had been one man not long before
the big army came; he had no horse, and from
what I could learn it seemed possible that it might be
Steve. He had traveled towards Santa Fé, so I went
on in that direction. After a time I learned that the
army had gone towards California, and it seemed to
my mind that my best plan was to follow its tracks,
for I argued if Steve had reached Santa Fé he would
have been home before that, so I turned west again.
Pretty soon I got into a detestable piece of country,
all sand up-hill one way and sand down-hill the other
way; no water anywhere. My horse and I were
about done for when we got over it. Then I struck
another desert; about the worst piece of country I
ever did come on. One spell I thought my poor
horse had given out entirely, and that I’d have to
call the search off, but I thought of two girls waiting
down here in Texas and of Steve somewhere, perhaps,
and I got the pluck to go on again.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you dear boy!” exclaimed Christine.</p>
<p>“Whose prayers were at work that time?” came
lazily from Steve; and if Alison did not answer in
words she did by going over to Neal and taking her
place by his side. He put his arm around her with a
satisfied sigh.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span>“This makes up for all,” he said. “Well, sirs,
when I reached the California frontier and came to
Warner’s rancho I was about as tickled as a mule
after he’s got through a day’s packing. There I got information
that made me think I’d find Steve, if he had
reached California alive, and somehow I couldn’t get
it out of my head that he had fallen in with the
United States troops and had followed their fortunes;
it seemed the most sensible thing. I kept on a moving
till I came across a man who had been with the army
on that trip. He remembered distinctly the day they
had picked up a man traveling afoot; they had all
thought it such an unusual occurrence and we made
up our minds between us that it was Steve. He would
hardly believe I had come all the way from Texas by
my lone; said I was some kind of a fool for trying
such a journey, and there were times when I could
have agreed with him without a question. Well, sirs,
there was nothing to be done, that I could see, but to
go back to Santa Fé where most of Kearney’s troops
were garrisoned, for my military friend assured me
that I wouldn’t be likely to find Steve anywhere else.
It was right smart of a journey and I wasn’t particularly
set on going back alone, but I managed to strike
in with a party going that way, and it wasn’t so bad,
though it wasn’t specially funny. After I reached
Santa Fé I went right to headquarters where I learned
that, sure enough, Steve had been one of their scouts<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span>
and had been captured during one of those uprisings
they got up there in New Mexico, and, although the
war was over and peace declared, they had only
located him recently in one of the little Indian
villages, where there were some prisoners that had
been kept over. They weren’t certain whether he
was alive or not, but said perhaps I could find out
from a Captain Owens who had gone out with a company
to bring in these prisoners. I wasn’t very long
in finding out, though they said at first he wasn’t
there, that he had died on the way. I made up my
mind I wouldn’t believe that till I had proofs, and at
last I found him.”</p>
<p>“Oh, weren’t you glad? Weren’t you glad?” exclaimed
Alison.</p>
<p>“If you mean me,” said Steve from his couch, “use
some stronger word.”</p>
<p>“If you mean me,” said Neal, “suppose you ask if
I didn’t dance a breakdown, if I didn’t let out a yell
that scared the town; if I didn’t pop off a dozen good
rounds to let ’em see how glad I was. Well, sirs, I
had found my man, about as poor, peaked, skinny,
yaller, feeble looking a creetur as you’d care to see.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and what do you suppose was the first thing
he said to me?” said Steve. “He said, ‘If I had
known what a poor miserable cuss I was lookin’ for,
I’d have taken a shorter cut, round by a graveyard.’”</p>
<p>“Oh, Neal,” said Alison reproachfully.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span>Neal laughed, and Steve said: “Bless his old bones,
why Allie that was his way of keeping me from
knowing just how he did feel. I might have been in
that graveyard by this time if it hadn’t been for him.
I stood in pretty good need of attention. Neal got
leave to take me under his special care, and nursed
me day and night. I came near keeling under two or
three times, but he finally brought me up standing,
and as soon as we thought I could undertake the journey
we started. We have had to travel slowly, and I
gave out once or twice, but I pulled through. We
had set our hearts on getting here to-day, so I rather
overdid it, and that is why I am a little the worse
for wear now, but I’ll be as peart as a lizard before
long.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing like real unadulterated, triple X
happiness as a medicine,” said Neal, “and that’s why
I wanted to get you home as quick as I could.”</p>
<p>“But why did we never hear from either of you?”
asked Alison.</p>
<p>“That was what worried me more than anything,”
said Steve. “I asked old Cy Sparks to let you-all
know about me, but he was a slick old party and
wasn’t going to tell anything to his own discredit, as
I might have known. He said I could get back soon
and there would be some way of circumventing Pike.
I could see that he had to let Pike have his way to a
certain extent, and at that time I didn’t believe but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span>
that I would get back in the course of a few weeks at
the most. There wasn’t much communication with
the States after the war was on, and although I wrote
from Los Angeles, I hadn’t much hope that you would
get the letter. Of course after I was captured I
might as well have been on an island in the Pacific,
for all the news I could get to the outside world.”</p>
<p>“And as for me,” said Neal, “there wasn’t much to
tell till I actually found Steve, and then he was such
a poor triflin’ creetur he didn’t seem worth writin’
about.” By which they understood that so long as
Steve’s life hung in the balance, Neal felt it would be
poor kindness to raise hopes which, ultimately, might
be proved false.</p>
<p>A silence fell upon the little group. From outside
came the monotonous chirr of the insects, interrupted
at intervals by the song of the mocking-bird thrilling
from the vine over the door. “Well, you two have
had experiences that would fill a book,” said John,
breaking the pause. “I think I must go over and tell
Laura. If two are company and three a crowd, what
are double two and the odd one?”</p>
<p>“You can answer that conundrum for yourself,”
replied Neal. “We’ll take the hint, Alison. Come
out and leave that long-legged skeleton to Christine.”
But the two they left indoors were scarcely happier
than the two who sought the garden and paced love’s
way to the music of the mockingbird’s song.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XX<br>
<small>NEW HOMES</small></h2>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE deserted cabin in the woods was falling into
dilapidation; the door, sagging on its hinges,
creaked at every gust; wild beasts had stolen within
to make it their haunt; and from under the broken
roof chittering bats arose as night came on. Yet it
was an interesting spot to a little party of riders who
cantering through the woods under the swaying
mosses which draped the forest trees, paused before
the hut one afternoon. Stephen Hayward looked at
it with curiosity; Christine turned from it with a
shiver. “It is a dreadful place,” she said. “It brings
up to me all that dreary time; all your terrible experiences;
all the long waiting. Let us ride on.”</p>
<p>“Do you remember this little old place?” Neal was
saying.</p>
<p>“Yes, and I really have an affection for it,”
answered Alison. “It brings back so vividly that
day when you came from the war and when you told
me—things.”</p>
<p>“We’ll have to fix it up,” said Neal. “It will be
about on the edge of our land, you see; the boundary
line comes just to the woods beyond.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span>“I am rather glad of it,” she returned, “for all this
is familiar ground, and the scene of my adventures.
Some of them were not so very pleasant, though,
for here I was set upon by the Blatant Beast,” she
sighed.</p>
<p>“You needn’t remember him any more.”</p>
<p>“No, for I have a pleasanter recollection. It was
just beyond here that I met my knight pricking along.
This whole place is full of the material from which I
made my dreams, and although I don’t live in dreamland
nowadays, it all comes back to me when I come
this way. The others are away ahead of us. We
must catch up with them. What do you suppose
Louisa will name her baby, Neal? I really am quite
curious on the subject.”</p>
<p>“Laws, child, I can’t tell. What do you reckon I
know about naming babies? If it was a horse, now, I
might give a guess.”</p>
<p>Alison laughed. “We’ll soon find out,” she said,
“but we must hurry or Christine will get ahead
of me.”</p>
<p>They hastened their gait, and before long arrived at
Louisa’s door. The place was neat and orderly; a
border of flowers bloomed each side the walk; an
open gallery had been added to the house, and there
they found Louisa already welcoming Steve and
Christine. In her arms she held her little baby with
its fuzzy red head and blinking blue eyes. It was the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span>
first time Alison and Christine had seen the little one
since Hannah Maria had brought it in her arms to
show them when it was but a few days old.</p>
<p>“We thought we should never get here, to see you,
Lou,” said Alison. “Since the boys got back we have
been so popular that we have had no time for anything
but company. I have been just dying to get
hold of that baby. Do let me take her? What shall
you call her? Louisa, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“No, Ira says he’s not going to have another Louisa
in the family. I’m first and last with him, he says.”</p>
<p>“Now, is that a compliment or isn’t it?” said Alison,
taking the baby and looking down at it with
interest.</p>
<p>“I reckon he meant it for one,” said Louisa smiling.</p>
<p>“But what do you call her?” asked Christine.
“Let me take her, Alison.”</p>
<p>“Oh, let me have her a little while,” returned Alison,
sitting down with the child.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Louisa, “I thought it over and I remember
that Mis’ Brown was real good to me, though
I don’t believe I appreciated it at the time, and I
thought it would please her if I give her name to my
baby. I always intended to give her yours, Miss Tina,
so we’ve called her Miranda Christine, and Ira thinks
it’s a fine name.” She spoke proudly and the girls
could but agree that it was a fine name.</p>
<p>“Give her straight to me,” said Christine. “She is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span>
my namesake.” And Alison reluctantly gave up her
charge.</p>
<p>“How is the new house getting on?” asked Louisa.
“Ira says they had a big time at the raising.”</p>
<p>“We did have a big time,” said Alison; “I never
had more fun in my life. The house is as nice as can
be. You must bring the baby and come over to spend
the day as soon as you can. We have heaps to tell
you. Doesn’t Steve look well? Would you ever believe
he was the same man who came back looking so
miserable?”</p>
<p>“He does look well,” agreed Louisa. “When is the
wedding to be? I have heard we may expect it soon.”</p>
<p>“That’s just what we came over for to-day; to invite
you and Ira.”</p>
<p>“What’s that about a wedding?” said a voice at
the door.</p>
<p>“Why Hannah Maria, we didn’t know you were
here,” said Alison.</p>
<p>“I come over this mornin’,” Hannah Maria told her.
“Bud said he’d drap in about supper-time, and I’ve
been seein’ to things a little for Lou. I was that sot
upon holdin’ the young un to-day I couldn’t res’ till I
got over. I think they’ve picked up a real purty name
for her. Now, do tell me what about that thar weddin’.
Ain’t it goin’ to be a double?” she asked
eagerly. “I always did want to see a double, and
I’ve been hopin’ you-alls would have one.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span>“Well, you are to have your wish,” Christine told
her.</p>
<p>“Then I suppose it will be at the Van Dorns’.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it seemed better that way, as we have no
parents and Mrs. Van Dorn is so anxious to fill a
mother’s place to us. Then, too, it saves us a great
deal of trouble and we can have our own house all in
order for Laura.”</p>
<p>“An’ Steve’s is all done?”</p>
<p>“Yes, or will be in a few days.”</p>
<p>“And which is goin’ to choose Allie, you or John?”
asked Hannah Maria, taking out her snuff stick.</p>
<p>“They won’t either one have her very long,” spoke
up Neal, “if I have anything to say. There’ll be another
house going up before many days.”</p>
<p>“Did you ever?” exclaimed Hannah Maria, dropping
her snuff stick. “Ain’t that interestin’? I declar
you-alls fa’r makes my head swim with so much
marryin’ an’ givin’ in marriage. Whar you goin’ to
build, Neal?”</p>
<p>“Well, I was lucky enough to make an exchange
with a man, or rather I had a chance of selling out
my claim, and I have taken enough land for a rancho
between here and John’s, and when all these wedding
doings are over Alison and I are going to pick out a
site for our home. I don’t know what sort of a
ranchero I shall make, but I see what Ira has accomplished
and it gives me courage.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span>“I reckon you won’t fail,” said Hannah Maria.
“Any man that has the perseverance to go as many
hundred miles as you did to find Steve and was as
perseverin’ as you was, I ain’t believin’ is goin’ to set
down and let his neighbors get ahead of him.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t it fine to think they will be so near?” said
Christine. “I don’t think I could forgive Neal, if he
were to take our little sister away off where we
couldn’t see her.”</p>
<p>“Bud says Texas will fill up real rapid now the war
is over,” said Hannah Maria, “and thet it won’t be no
time before we’ll be havin’ railroads all about, but I
tell him I don’t expect to live to see that.”</p>
<p>“It will come in your day, Hannah Maria,” said
Steve.</p>
<p>“I don’t expect it. But now, ain’t all this wonderful?
Things does turn out good after all, don’t they?
Here we never thought Neal would be Allie’s beau,
and it looked one spell like Steve would never be
Tina’s. I ain’t got over my gladness an’ surprise
about his comin back yet.”</p>
<p>“I told you I should expect you to make my wedding
cake, Hannah Maria,” said Steve.</p>
<p>“You shorely did, and I promised I would, so I’ve
got to get to work. I’ll see that you get it, Steve.
My, but you’ve fleshed up sence you got back,” she
exclaimed, looking at him critically. “I never thought
you’d pick up so quick when I first saw you. I reckon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span>
feastin’ your eyes on Tina done you as much good as
feastin’ yer body on wittles. I shouldn’t wonder but
you’d get real pusly by the time you’re middle-aged.”</p>
<p>“How about your wedding, Hannah Maria?” asked
Steve, turning her remarks from such personalities.
“When is that coming off?”</p>
<p>“Laws-a-me, boy, don’t talk about no weddin’ for
me. I ain’t see that Bud has picked out his gal yet,
and tell he does I ain’t goin’ to think of no bonds of
matermony.” She looked at Alison as she spoke and
gave a little sigh. No one but herself suspected that
it had been a blow to poor Bud to hear that Alison
had given her heart to Neal Jordan. Alison never
dreamed of Bud’s sentiments towards her. He had
never ceased to serve her, to watch out for her interests,
to give her a faithful, doglike devotion, and she
had been the light of his eyes. Those weeks under
his roof had embraced the rosiest hours of his life; all
of romance was held within that period, but it never
had occurred to him that he could expect her to care
for him, and so he had never put the question to a
test. She was and always would be the object of his
sincerest devotion, but he would never tell it, and only
the loving eyes of Hannah Maria observed the truth:
that this joyous young creature had won the abiding
love of lame Bud Haley.</p>
<p>“And when is Lolita going to take Laura’s place?”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span>
asked Hannah Maria, rousing herself after a few minutes
devoted to thought and snuff rubbing.</p>
<p>“There is some talk of that,” Alison told her,
“though Lolita is perfectly happy as matters are, except
for the fact that her father is not well. The old
man has failed of late. John says he doesn’t think
Pedro is long for this world.”</p>
<p>“That’s what Bud was a-sayin’. Well, it will be a
consolation to the old man to know Lolita is provided
for.”</p>
<p>“She will not leave him while he needs her,” said
Alison.</p>
<p>“The poor old man won’t be needing her long, Ira
thinks,” said Louisa. “I always did like old Pedro.”</p>
<p>“He was always as polite as a dancing-master,” said
Hannah Maria, “and Bud says he’s real honest, if he
is a Mexican.”</p>
<p>“I believe there is some talk of Blythe’s going to
New York to study law,” said Alison.</p>
<p>“Laws, now ain’t that just what I say?” remarked
Hannah Maria. “I was tellin’ Bud the other day that if
Blythe would take a purty wife like Lolita to some other
place where they didn’t look down on greasers he’d git
along. She’s sprunted up wonderful this last year.
You don’t see her always lookin’ like one of them
meechin’ pictures the Mexicans pins on their walls.
She’s real smiling and lively and she’ll be a credit to
him yet.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span>“That is what Mrs. Van Dorn thinks. She does
hate to give up Blythe, but she thinks he would do
better to go somewhere else till he has made a career
for himself.”</p>
<p>“And will he git married before he goes?” asked
Hannah Maria, eager for all the details.</p>
<p>“It would depend upon whether Lolita could leave
her father or whether he would be willing to go with
them. Blythe has some money and would not have
to think altogether of his profession as his support.
All this is only talk as yet, Hannah Maria, so don’t
tell it.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’ll keep it secret,” said Hannah Maria, though
she inwardly regretted that she must do so. However,
there were exciting events enough on hand to
occupy her mind, and she might well spare Blythe’s
affairs.</p>
<p>Her desire to behold a double wedding was granted
some ten days later when from over the hills, across
prairies, along the bayous, gathered guests to witness
the ceremony. All was astir in the Van Dorns’ roomy
house. Good little Laura looked her best in her white
gown specially imported from New York, and Christine,
to Steve’s eyes, seemed like some pure sweet angel
crowned with pale gold hair and clothed in fleecy
white.</p>
<p>“Isn’t she beautiful?” said Alison to Hannah
Maria.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span>“Purty as a pictur,” answered she, “and you ain’t
fur from one yourself, Allie. White becomes you
mighty well. I reckon Neal will want to step up
whilst the preacher’s here without waitin’ till his house
is built. Thar comes Lou an’ the baby: I’ve got to
go and git ’em a good place.” And she hurried away.</p>
<p>In a few minutes the bridal party was ready to appear
before the minister, who was waiting for them at
the end of the long room,—John and Laura, Steve and
Christine with their attendants, Alison and Neal,
Blythe and Lolita. Just at the last moment there was
a little bustle outside and Mrs. Van Dorn hastened to
receive two guests who were quickly given places of
honor, and the ceremony went on. Alison was the
first to discover these new arrivals as she turned from
giving Christine a kiss. With a little cry of surprise
and pleasure she grasped her sister’s arm. “Look,
look,” she cried, “there are Aunt Miranda and Uncle
Brown!”</p>
<p>It was indeed these two who pressed forward to
offer their good wishes. “We have been wanting to
make the trip for a long time,” said Aunt Miranda,
“and this seemed the right occasion, but we came very
near being a day after the fair.”</p>
<p>“It is so good, so very good to have some of our
own relations here,” said Christine. “You remember
Stephen, Aunt Miranda?”</p>
<p>“I remember him very well, but he was a little boy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span>
when I saw him last. Where has your uncle gone,
Alison?”</p>
<p>“He is talking to Louisa. She has something she
wants to show you, I know, Aunt Miranda.” And
Mrs. Brown went with Alison to join her husband,
who was looking curiously down into the little puckered
face of Louisa’s first-born.</p>
<p>He turned to his wife. “Here is Louisa,” he said.
“What do you think she has called this babe?”</p>
<p>“She’s named Miranda Christine, after you and Miss
Tina,” said Louisa with pride, “and the preacher is
going to christen her after a while.”</p>
<p>Aunt Miranda held out her arms. “It is the first
baby ever named after me,” she said in a gratified
voice. And Louisa felt that her infant was a person
of importance to others beside herself.</p>
<p>Mrs. Van Dorn begged to entertain these lately arrived
guests and to have the first week from them,
and here began a series of visits which ended only
after Alison’s marriage, for Neal was diplomatic
enough to get upon the good side of Aunt Miranda, so,
at her earnest request, the wedding took place before
the good couple returned to their own home. Aunt
Miranda so far loosened her purse strings as to offer
to furnish the new house for her younger niece, and
sent to New Orleans for such things as were required,
taking a great interest in them. The house was a
good substantial one with two rooms each side a wide<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span>
gallery, which opened on another running along the
back of the house. It overlooked the broad prairie on
one side, but was sheltered from the north winds by
the woods on the other.</p>
<p>True to her promise, Christine wore the gorgeous
piece of embroidery, set in a gown, at her sister’s wedding,
which took place in her brother’s house. It was
a simpler affair than the other, but no one who saw the
bride doubted that she was as happy a one as her sister.</p>
<p>It was on a lovely autumn day that Alison Jordan
went forth to her new home. Out of her dreams had
passed visions of knights and ladies, of moated castles
and milk-white palfreys. She was entering a different
world, the centre of which was that home to which
she was going. There was to be a house-warming that
evening, but she and Neal had started out alone to
spend their first free hours under their own roof, and
to make ready for those who should come later; first
the helpers, Christine, Laura and Louisa, and then the
company. This would be a somewhat mixed one, it is
true, but all would bear good-will, rough though many
might appear, inelegant of speech and astonishingly
arrayed. Texan rangers and rancheros, loud of voice
and ready for any sort of horse play; matrons and
maids with the inevitable snuff stick; but not one
among them who would not go to any lengths to do
a neighborly service. Annamela Stuckett, bedizened
beyond all conscience, Eliza Jane Binney, with hair<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span>
curled on a hot poker, Hannah Maria in the gayest of
calicoes and with her flashy breastpin fastening a collar
much awry and none too clean, all these would be
there, but Bud would be absent, as he had been from
the wedding. Alison wondered a little when Hannah
Maria told her that Bud had gone to a distant rancho
on business, for when before had Bud missed an opportunity
for a frolic? But she was too happy to waste
many moments in regretting her friend’s absence. In
contrast to these neighbors would be Mrs. Van Dorn
in her quiet black silk, Aunt Maria similarly attired,
and dignified Uncle Brown. Alison named them all
over as she stood upon the step before her own door
and waited for Neal to return from turning out the
horses. One and all would have nothing in their
hearts but love for her, and above all was the love
of him whose home she had promised herself to make
a happy one. Not her home alone, but his also, his
harbor and refuge from the storms of the outside
world. It was for her to keep the light of this home
burning very brightly that his steps might be guided
aright. It was not only her own happiness that she
must look for, but his. His sorrows must be her sorrows,
his cares hers. It must be share and share alike
if she would fulfil the promise made to herself and to
him. She watched him coming towards her, a smile
of complete content upon his face. “We will go in
together,” she said as she gave him her hand.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<div class="blockquot">
<p class="ph3">The American Girl Series</p>
<p><i>An admirable list of books by some of the best writers
for girls,—educational and interesting. Fully
illustrated. The paper, press work and cloth binding
is of the best. Handsome colored jackets.</i></p>
<p class="center"><i>10 vols. 50 cents each net, 60 cents delivered</i></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<p><b>A Gentle Pioneer By Amy E. Blanchard.</b><br>
Being the story of the early days in the new West. <span class="gap"> 339 pp.</span><br>
<br>
<b>Bonny Lesley of the Border By Amy E.<br>
Blanchard.</b> A story of frontier days. <span class="gap"> 331 pp.</span><br>
<br>
<b>A Frontier Knight By Amy E. Blanchard.</b><br>
A story of early Texan border life. In these stories of<br>
pioneer life the author shows the important part played by<br>
the women who went forth to endure the privations and<br>
share the adventures of frontier life. <span class="gap"> 339 pp.</span><br>
<br>
<b>The Dorrance Domain By Carolyn Wells.</b><br>
The story centers around the Dorrance girls and their<br>
grandmother, who have little money but lots of good cheer<br>
and bright wit. <span class="gap"> 301 pp.</span><br>
<br>
<b>Dorrance Doings By Carolyn Wells.</b> Sequel<br>
to “The Dorrance Domain.” A girl of seventeen, twins<br>
fourteen years old, a girl of twelve and their grandmother<br>
are the principals of this tale. <span class="gap"> 351 pp.</span><br>
<br>
<b>Ruth Campbell’s Experiment By Nina<br>
Rhoades.</b> This is a healthful and interesting tale of the<br>
experiences of a young girl just from school who must earn<br>
her way in the world. <span class="gap"> 288 pp.</span><br>
<br>
<b>Polly’s Predicament By Nina Rhoades.</b> An<br>
extremely interesting story of a young girl’s life from the<br>
time of her leaving school until her betrothal. <span class="gap"> 341 pp.</span><br>
<br>
<b>Madge at Camp Welles By Edith A. Sawyer.</b><br>
An up-to-date story of camp and school life in the New<br>
Hampshire hills. <span class="gap"> 327 pp.</span><br>
<br>
<b>Phillida’s Glad Year By Grace Blanchard.</b><br>
If a girl wants a book which will be hard to leave after<br>
she has once started it, this is the volume. <span class="gap"> 299 pp.</span><br>
<br>
<b>Those Preston Twins By Izola L. Forrester.</b><br>
This is an extremely interesting book, fitted alike for boys<br>
or girls.<span class="gap"> 254 pp.</span></p>
</div></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<div class="transnote">
<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p>
<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p>
<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p>
<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p>
</div></div>
<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74155 ***</div>
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