CHAPTER V
Whatever might have been his other deficiencies as an escort, WhiskeyDick was a good horseman, and, in spite of his fractious brute,exhibited such skill and confidence as to at once satisfy the younggirls of his value to them in the management of their own horses,to whom side-saddles were still an alarming novelty. Jessie, whohad probably already learned from her sister the purport of Dick'sconfidences, had received him with equal cordiality and perhaps a moreunqualified amusement; and now, when fairly lifted into the saddle byhis tremulous but respectful hands, made a very charming picture ofyouthful and rosy satisfaction. And when Christie, more fascinating thanever in her riding-habit, took her place on the other side of Dick, asthey sallied from the gate, that gentleman felt his cup of happinesscomplete. His triumphal entree into the world of civilization andfashion was secure. He did not regret the untasted liquor; here wasan experience in after years to lean his back against comfortably inbar-rooms, to entrance or defy mankind. He had even got so far asto formulate in fancy the sentence: "I remember, gentlemen, that oneafternoon, being on a pasear with two fash'nable young ladies," etc.,etc.
At present, however, he was obliged to confine himself to the functionsof an elegant guide and cicerone--when not engaged in "having it out"with his horse. Their way lay along the slope, crossing the high-road atright angles, to reach the deeper woods beyond. Dick would have lingeredon the highway--ostensibly to point out to his companions the new flumethat had taken the place of the condemned ditch, but really in the hopeof exposing himself in his glory to the curious eyes of the wayfaringworld.
Unhappily the road was deserted in the still powerful sunlight, and hewas obliged to seek the cover of the woods, with a passing compliment tothe parent of his charges. Waving his hands towards the flume, hesaid, "Look at that work of your father's; there ain't no other man inCaliforny but Philip Carr ez would hev the grit to hold up such a bluffagin natur and agin luck ez that yer flume stands for. I don't say it'cause you're his daughters, ladies! That ain't the style, ez YOU know,in sassiety, Miss Carr," he added, turning to Christie as the moresocially experienced. "No! but there ain't another man to be foundez could do it. It cost already two hundred thousand; it'll cost fivehundred thousand afore it's done; and every cent of it is got out of theyearth beneath it, or HEZ got to be out of it. 'Tain't ev'ry man, MissCarr, ez hev got the pluck to pledge not only what he's got, but what hereckons to git."
"But suppose he don't get it?" said Christie, slightly contracting herbrows.
"Then there's the flume to show for it," said Dick.
"But of what use is the flume, if there isn't any more gold?" continuedChristie, almost angrily.
"That's good from YOU, miss," said Dick, giving way to a fit ofhilarity. "That's good for a fash'nable young lady--own daughter ofPhilip Carr. She sez, says she," continued Dick, appealing to the sedatepines for appreciation of Christie's rare humor, "'Wot's the use of aflume, when gold ain't there?' I must tell that to the boys."
"And what's the use of the gold in the ground when the flume isn't thereto work it out?" said Jessie to her sister, with a cautioning glancetowards Dick.
But Dick did not notice the look that passed between the sisters. Thericher humor of Jessie's retort had thrown him into convulsions oflaughter.
"And now SHE says, wot's the use o' the gold without the flume? 'Xcuseme, ladies, but that's just puttin' the hull question that's agitatin'this yer camp inter two speeches as clear as crystal. There's thehull crowd outside--and some on 'em inside, like Fairfax, hez theirdoubts--ez says with Miss Christie; and there's all of us inside, ezholds Miss Jessie's views."
"I never heard Mr. Munroe say that the flume was wrong," said Jessiequickly.
"Not to you, nat'rally," said Dick, with a confidential look atChristie; "but I reckon he'd like some of the money it cost laid out forsuthin' else. But what's the odds? The gold is there, and WE'RE bound toget it."
Dick was the foreman of a gang of paid workmen, who had replaced themillionaires in mere manual labor, and the WE was a polite figure ofspeech.
The conversation seemed to have taken an unfortunate turn, and both thegirls experienced a feeling of relief when they entered the long gulchor defile that led to Indian Spring. The track now becoming narrow, theywere obliged to pass in single file along the precipitous hillside,led by this escort. This effectually precluded any further speech,and Christie at once surrendered herself to the calm, obliteratinginfluences of the forest. The settlement and its gossip were far behindand forgotten. In the absorption of nature, her companions passed out ofher mind, even as they sometimes passed out of her sight in the windingsof the shadowy trail. As she rode alone, the fronds of breast-highferns seemed to caress her with outstretched and gently-detaining hands;strange wildflowers sprang up through the parting underbrush; even thegranite rocks that at times pressed closely upon the trail appeared asif cushioned to her contact with star-rayed mosses, or lightly flungafter her long lassoes of delicate vines. She recalled the absolutefreedom of their al-fresco life in the old double cabin, when shespent the greater part of her waking hours under the mute trees inthe encompassing solitude, and, half regretting the more civilizedrestraints of this newer and more ambitious abode, forgot that she hadever rebelled against it. The social complication that threatened hernow seemed to her rather the outcome of her half-civilized parlor thanof the sylvan glade. How easy it would have been to have kept the cabin,and then to have gone away entirely, than for her father to have allowedthem to be compromised with the growing fortunes of the settlement!The suspicions and distrust that she had always felt of their fortunesseemed to grow with the involuntary admission of Whiskey Dick thatthey were shared by others who were practical men. She was fain to haverecourse to the prospect again to banish these thoughts, and this openedher eyes to the fact that her companions had been missing from the trailahead of her for some time. She quickened her pace slightly to reacha projecting point of rock that gave her a more extended prospect. Butthey had evidently disappeared.
She was neither alarmed nor annoyed. She could easily overtake themsoon, for they would miss her, and return or wait for her at the spring.At the worst she would have no difficulty in retracing her steps home.In her present mood, she could readily spare their company; indeed shewas not sorry that no other being should interrupt that sympathy withthe free woods which was beginning to possess her.
She was destined, however, to be disappointed. She had not proceeded ahundred yards before she noticed the moving figure of a man beyond herin the hillside chaparral above the trail. He seemed to be going in thesame direction as herself, and, as she fancied, endeavoring to avoidher. This excited her curiosity to the point of urging her horse forwarduntil the trail broadened into the level forest again, which she nowremembered was a part of the environs of Indian Spring. The strangerhesitated, pausing once or twice with his back towards her, as ifengaged in carefully examining the dwarf willows to select a switch.Christie slightly checked her speed as she drew nearer; when, as ifobedient to a sudden resolution, he turned and advanced towards her. Shewas relieved and yet surprised to recognize the boyish face and figureof George Kearney. He was quite pale and agitated, although attempting,by a jaunty swinging of the switch he had just cut, to assume theappearance of ease and confidence.
Here was an opportunity. Christie resolved to profit by it. She did notdoubt that the young fellow had already passed her sister on the trail,but, from bashfulness, had not dared to approach her. By inviting hisconfidence, she would doubtless draw something from him that would denyor corroborate her father's opinion of his sentiments. If he was reallyin love with Jessie, she would learn what reasons he had for expectinga serious culmination of his suit, and perhaps she might be abledelicately to open his eyes to the truth. If, as she believed, it wasonly a boyish fancy, she would laugh him out of it with that camaraderiewhich had always existed between them. A half motherly sympathy, albeitborn quite as much from a contemplation of his beautiful yearning eye
sas from his interesting position, lightened the smile with which shegreeted him.
"So you contrived to throw over your stupid business and join us,after all," she said; "or was it that you changed your mind at thelast moment?" she added mischievously. "I thought only we women werepermitted that!" Indeed, she could not help noticing that there wasreally a strong feminine suggestion in the shifting color and slightlyconscious eyelids of the young fellow.
"Do young girls always change their minds?" asked George, with anembarrassed smile.
"Not, always; but sometimes they don't know their own mind--particularlyif they are very young; and when they do at last, you clever creaturesof men, who have interpreted their ignorance to please yourselves, abusethem for being fickle." She stopped to observe the effect of what shebelieved a rather clear and significant exposition of Jessie's andGeorge's possible situation. But she was not prepared for the lookof blank resignation that seemed to drive the color from his face andmoisten the fire of his dark eyes.
"I reckon you're right," he said, looking down.
"Oh! we're not accusing you of fickleness," said Christie gayly;"although you didn't come, and we were obliged to ask Mr. Hall to joinus. I suppose you found him and Jessie just now?"
But George made no reply. The color was slowly coming back to his face,which, as she glanced covertly at him, seemed to have grown so mucholder that his returning blood might have brought two or three yearswith it.
"Really, Mr. Kearney," she said dryly, "one would think that some silly,conceited girl"--she was quite earnest in her epithets, for a sudden,angry conviction of some coquetry and disingenuousness in Jessie hadcome to her in contemplating its effects upon the young fellow at herside--"some country jilt, had been trying her rustic hand upon you."
"She is not silly, conceited, nor countrified," said George, slowlyraising his beautiful eyes to the young girl half reproachfully. "It isI who am all that. No, she is right, and you know it."
Much as Christie admired and valued her sister's charms, she thoughtthis was really going too far. What had Jessie ever done--what wasJessie--to provoke and remain insensible to such a blind devotion asthis? And really, looking at him now, he was not so VERY YOUNG forJessie; whether his unfortunate passion had brought out all his latentmanliness, or whether he had hitherto kept his serious nature in thebackground, certainly he was not a boy. And certainly his was not apassion that he could be laughed out of. It was getting very tiresome.She wished she had not met him--at least until she had had some clearerunderstanding with her sister. He was still walking beside her, with hishand on her bridle rein, partly to lead her horse over some boulders inthe trail, and partly to conceal his first embarrassment. When they hadfairly reached the woods, he stopped.
"I am going to say good-by, Miss Carr."
"Are you not coming further? We must be near Indian Spring, now; Mr.Hall and--and Jessie--cannot be far away. You will keep me company untilwe meet them?"
"No," he replied quietly. "I only stopped you to say good-by. I am goingaway."
"Not from Devil's Ford?" she asked, in half-incredulous astonishment."At least, not for long?"
"I am not coming back," he replied.
"But this is very abrupt," she said hurriedly, feeling that in someridiculous way she had precipitated an equally ridiculous catastrophe."Surely you are not going away in this fashion, without saying good-byto Jessie and--and father?"
"I shall see your father, of course--and you will give my regards toMiss Jessie."
He evidently was in earnest. Was there ever anything so perfectlypreposterous? She became indignant.
"Of course," she said coldly, "I won't detain you; your business mustbe urgent, and I forgot--at least I had forgotten until to-day--thatyou have other duties more important than that of squire of dames. I amafraid this forgetfulness made me think you would not part from us inquite such a business fashion. I presume, if you had not met me justnow, we should none of us have seen you again?"
He did not reply.
"Will you say good-by, Miss Carr?"
He held out his hand.
"One moment, Mr. Kearney. If I have said anything which you thinkjustifies this very abrupt leave-taking, I beg you will forgive andforget it--or, at least, let it have no more weight with you than theidle words of any woman. I only spoke generally. You know--I--I might bemistaken."
His eyes, which had dilated when she began to speak, darkened; hiscolor, which had quickly come, as quickly sank when she had ended.
"Don't say that, Miss Carr. It is not like you, and--it is useless. Youknow what I meant a moment ago. I read it in your reply. You meant thatI, like others, had deceived myself. Did you not?"
She could not meet those honest eyes with less than equal honesty.She knew that Jessie did not love him--would not marry him--whatevercoquetry she might have shown.
"I did not mean to offend you," she said hesitatingly; "I only halfsuspected it when I spoke."
"And you wish to spare me the avowal?" he said bitterly.
"To me, perhaps, yes, by anticipating it. I could not tell what ideasyou might have gathered from some indiscreet frankness of Jessie--or myfather," she added, with almost equal bitterness.
"I have never spoken to either," he replied quickly. He stopped, andadded, after a moment's mortifying reflection, "I've been brought up inthe woods, Miss Carr, and I suppose I have followed my feelings, insteadof the etiquette of society."
Christie was too relieved at the rehabilitation of Jessie's truthfulnessto notice the full significance of his speech.
"Good-by," he said again, holding out his hand.
"Good-by!"
She extended her own, ungloved, with a frank smile. He held it for amoment, with his eyes fixed upon hers. Then suddenly, as if obeyingan uncontrollable impulse, he crushed it like a flower again and againagainst his burning lips, and darted away.
Christie sank back in her saddle with a little cry, half of pain andhalf of frightened surprise. Had the poor boy suddenly gone mad, or wasthis vicarious farewell a part of the courtship of Devil's Ford? Shelooked at her little hand, which had reddened under the pressure, andsuddenly felt the flush extending to her cheeks and the roots of herhair. This was intolerable.
"Christie!"
It was her sister emerging from the wood to seek her. In another momentshe was at her side.
"We thought you were following," said Jessie. "Good heavens! how youlook! What has happened?"
"Nothing. I met Mr. Kearney a moment ago on the trail. He is going away,and--and--" She stopped, furious and flushing.
"And," said Jessie, with a burst of merriment, "he told you at last heloved you. Oh, Christie!"