THE SECRET OF SOBRIENTE'S WELL
Even to the eye of the most inexperienced traveler there was no doubtthat Buena Vista was a "played-out" mining camp. There, seamed andscarred by hydraulic engines, was the old hillside, over whose denudedsurface the grass had begun to spring again in fitful patches; therewere the abandoned heaps of tailings already blackened by sun and rain,and worn into mounds like ruins of masonry; there were the waterlessditches, like giant graves, and the pools of slumgullion, now dried intoshining, glazed cement. There were two or three wooden "stores," fromwhich the windows and doors had been taken and conveyed to the newersettlement of Wynyard's Gulch. Four or five buildings that still wereinhabited--the blacksmith's shop, the post-office, a pioneer'scabin, and the old hotel and stage-office--only accented the generaldesolation. The latter building had a remoteness of prosperity farbeyond the others, having been a wayside Spanish-American posada, withadobe walls of two feet in thickness, that shamed the later shells ofhalf-inch plank, which were slowly warping and cracking like dried podsin the oven-like heat.
The proprietor of this building, Colonel Swinger, had been lookedupon by the community as a person quite as remote, old-fashioned, andinconsistent with present progress as the house itself. He was an oldVirginian, who had emigrated from his decaying plantation on the JamesRiver only to find the slaves, which he had brought with him, freed menwhen they touched Californian soil; to be driven by Northern progressand "smartness" out of the larger cities into the mountains, to fixhimself at last, with the hopeless fatuity of his race, upon an alreadyimpoverished settlement; to sink his scant capital in hopeless shaftsand ledges, and finally to take over the decaying hostelry of BuenaVista, with its desultory custom and few, lingering, impecunious guests.Here, too, his old Virginian ideas of hospitality were against hisfinancial success; he could not dun nor turn from his door thoseunfortunate prospectors whom the ebbing fortunes of Buena Vista had leftstranded by his side.
Colonel Swinger was sitting in a wicker-work rocking-chair on theveranda of his hotel--sipping a mint julep which he held in his hand,while he gazed into the dusty distance. Nothing could have convinced himthat he was not performing a serious part of his duty as hotel-keeperin this attitude, even though there were no travelers expected, and theroad at this hour of the day was deserted. On a bench at his side LarryHawkins stretched his lazy length,--one foot dropped on the veranda,and one arm occasionally groping under the bench for his own tumblerof refreshment. Apart from this community of occupation, there wasapparently no interchange of sentiment between the pair. The silencehad continued for some moments, when the colonel put down his glass andgazed earnestly into the distance.
"Seein' anything?" remarked the man on the bench, who had sleepilyregarded him.
"No," said the colonel, "that is--it's only Dick Ruggles crossin' theroad."
"Thought you looked a little startled, ez if you'd seen that arwanderin' stranger."
"When I see that wandering stranger, sah," said the colonel decisively,"I won't be sittin' long in this yer chyar. I'll let him know in aboutten seconds that I don't harbor any vagrants prowlin' about like poorwhites or free niggers on my propahty, sah!"
"All the same, I kinder wish ye did see him, for you'd be settled inYOUR mind and I'd be easier in MINE, ef you found out what he was doin'round yer, or ye had to admit that it wasn't no LIVIN' man."
"What do you mean?" said the colonel, testily facing around in hischair.
His companion also altered his attitude by dropping his other footto the floor, sitting up, and leaning lazily forward with his handsclasped.
"Look yer, colonel. When you took this place, I felt I didn't have nocall to tell ye all I know about it, nor to pizen yer mind by any darnedfool yarns I mout hev heard. Ye know it was one o' them old Spanishhaciendas?"
"I know," said the colonel loftily, "that it was held by a grant fromCharles the Fifth of Spain, just as my propahty on the James River wasgiven to my people by King James of England, sah!"
"That ez as may be," returned his companion, in lazy indifference;"though I reckon that Charles the Fifth of Spain and King James ofEngland ain't got much to do with what I'm goin' to tell ye. Ye see, Iwas here long afore YOUR time, or any of the boys that hev now clearedout; and at that time the hacienda belonged to a man named JuanSobriente. He was that kind o' fool that he took no stock in mining.When the boys were whoopin' up the place and finding the coloreverywhere, and there was a hundred men working down there in the gulch,he was either ridin' round lookin' up the wild horses he owned, orsittin' with two or three lazy peons and Injins that was fed and lookedarter by the priests. Gosh! now I think of it, it was mighty like YOUwhen you first kem here with your niggers. That's curious, too, ain'tit?"
He had stopped, gazing with an odd, superstitious wonderment at thecolonel, as if overcome by this not very remarkable coincidence.The colonel, overlooking or totally oblivious to its somewhatuncomplimentary significance, simply said, "Go on. What about him?"
"Well, ez I was sayin', he warn't in it nohow, but kept on his reg'larway when the boom was the biggest. Some of the boys allowed it wasmighty oncivil for him to stand off like that, and others--when herefused a big pile for his hacienda and the garden, that ran right intothe gold-bearing ledge--war for lynching him and driving him outer thesettlement. But as he had a pretty darter or niece livin' with him,and, except for his partickler cussedness towards mining, was kinderpeaceable and perlite, they thought better of it. Things went along likethis, until one day the boys noticed--particklerly the boys that hadslipped up on their luck--that old man Sobriente was gettin' rich,--hadstocked a ranch over on the Divide, and had given some gold candlesticksto the mission church. That would have been only human nature andbusiness, ef he'd had any during them flush times; but he hadn't. Thiskinder puzzled them. They tackled the peons,--his niggers,--but it wasall 'No sabe.' They tackled another man,--a kind of half-breed Kanaka,who, except the priest, was the only man who came to see him, and wassupposed to be mighty sweet on the darter or niece,--but they didn'teven get the color outer HIM. Then the first thing we knowed was thatold Sobriente was found dead in the well!"
"In the well, sah!" said the colonel, starting up. "The well on mypropahty?"
"No," said his companion. "The old well that was afterwards shut up.Yours was dug by the last tenant, Jack Raintree, who allowed that hedidn't want to 'take any Sobriente in his reg'lar whiskey and water.'Well, the half-breed Kanaka cleared out after the old man's death, andso did that darter or niece; and the church, to whom old Sobriente hadleft this house, let it to Raintree for next to nothin'."
"I don't see what all that has got to do with that wandering tramp,"said the colonel, who was by no means pleased with this history of hisproperty.
"I'll tell ye. A few days after Raintree took it over, he was lookin'round the garden, which old Sobriente had always kept shut up aginstrangers, and he finds a lot of dried-up 'slumgullion'* scattered allabout the borders and beds, just as if the old man had been using it forfertilizing. Well, Raintree ain't no fool; he allowed the old man wasn'tone, either; and he knew that slumgullion wasn't worth no more than mudfor any good it would do the garden. So he put this yer together withSobriente's good luck, and allowed to himself that the old coyote hadbeen secretly gold-washin' all the while he seemed to be standin' offagin it! But where was the mine? Whar did he get the gold? That's whatgot Raintree. He hunted all over the garden, prospected every part ofit,--ye kin see the holes yet,--but he never even got the color!"
* That is, a viscid cement-like refuse of gold-washing.
He paused, and then, as the colonel made an impatient gesture, he wenton.
"Well, one night just afore you took the place, and when Raintree wasgettin' just sick of it, he happened to be walkin' in the garden. He waspuzzlin' his brain agin to know how old Sobriente made his pile, whenall of a suddenst he saw suthin' a-movin' in the brush beside the house.He calls out, thinkin' it was one of the boys, but got no answer. Thenhe goes
to the bushes, and a tall figger, all in black, starts out aforehim. He couldn't see any face, for its head was covered with a hood, buthe saw that it held suthin' like a big cross clasped agin its breast.This made him think it was one them priests, until he looks agin andsees that it wasn't no cross it was carryin,' but a PICKAXE! He makesa jump towards it, but it vanished! He traipsed over the hullgarden,--went though ev'ry bush,--but it was clean gone. Then the hullthing flashed upon him with a cold shiver. The old man bein' found deadin the well! the goin' away of the half-breed and the girl! the findin'o' that slumgullion! The old man HAD made a strike in that garden, thehalf-breed had discovered his secret and murdered him, throwin' him downthe well! It war no LIVIN' man that he had seen, but the ghost of oldSobriente!"
The colonel emptied the remaining contents of his glass at a singlegulp, and sat up. "It's my opinion, sah, that Raintree had that nightmore than his usual allowance of corn-juice on board; and it's onlya wonder, sah, that he didn't see a few pink alligators and sky-bluesnakes at the same time. But what's this got to do with that wanderin'tramp?"
"They're all the same thing, colonel, and in my opinion that there trampain't no more alive than that figger was."
"But YOU were the one that saw this tramp with your own eyes," retortedthe colonel quickly, "and you never before allowed it was a spirit!"
"Exactly! I saw it whar a minit afore nothin' had been standin', and aminit after nothin' stood," said Larry Hawkins, with a certain seriousemphasis; "but I warn't goin' to say it to ANYBODY, and I warn't goin'to give you and the hacienda away. And ez nobody knew Raintree's story,I jest shut up my head. But you kin bet your life that the man I sawwarn't no livin' man!"
"We'll see, sah!" said the colonel, rising from his chair with hisfingers in the armholes of his nankeen waistcoat, "ef he ever intrudeson my property again. But look yar! don't ye go sayin' anything of thisto Polly,--you know what women are!"
A faint color came into Larry's face; an animation quite different tothe lazy deliberation of his previous monologue shone in his eyes, ashe said, with a certain rough respect he had not shown before to hiscompanion, "That's why I'm tellin' ye, so that ef SHE happened to seeanything and got skeert, ye'd know how to reason her out of it."
"'Sh!" said the colonel, with a warning gesture.
A young girl had just appeared in the doorway, and now stood leaningagainst the central pillar that supported it, with one hand above herhead, in a lazy attitude strongly suggestive of the colonel's Southernindolence, yet with a grace entirely her own. Indeed, it overcame thenegligence of her creased and faded yellow cotton frock and unbuttonedcollar, and suggested--at least to the eyes of ONE man--the curving andclinging of the jasmine vine against the outer column of the veranda.Larry Hawkins rose awkwardly to his feet.
"Now what are you two men mumblin' and confidin' to each other? You lookfor all the world like two old women gossips," she said, with languidimpertinence.
It was easy to see that a privileged and recognized autocrat spoke.No one had ever questioned Polly Swinger's right to interrupting,interfering, and saucy criticisms. Secure in the hopeless or chivalrousadmiration of the men around her, she had repaid it with a franknessthat scorned any coquetry; with an indifference to the ordinary feminineeffect or provocation in dress or bearing that was as natural as it wasinvincible. No one had ever known Polly to "fix up" for anybody, yetno one ever doubted the effect, if she had. No one had ever rebuked hercharming petulance, or wished to.
Larry gave a weak, vague laugh. Colonel Swinger as ineffectively assumeda mock parental severity. "When you see two gentlemen, miss, discussin'politics together, it ain't behavin' like a lady to interrupt. Betterrun away and tidy yourself before the stage comes."
The young lady replied to the last innuendo by taking two spirals ofsoft hair, like "corn silk," from her oval cheek, wetting them withher lips, and tucking them behind her ears. Her father's ungentlemanlysuggestion being thus disposed of, she returned to her first charge.
"It ain't no politics; you ain't been swearing enough for THAT! Come,now! It's the mysterious stranger ye've been talking about!"
Both men stared at her with unaffected concern.
"What do YOU know about any mysterious stranger?" demanded her father.
"Do you suppose you men kin keep a secret," scoffed Polly. "Why, DickRuggles told me how skeert ye all were over an entire stranger, and headvised me not to wander down the road after dark. I asked him if hethought I was a pickaninny to be frightened by bogies, and that ifhe hadn't a better excuse for wantin' 'to see me home' from the Injinspring, he might slide."
Larry laughed again, albeit a little bitterly, for it seemed to him thatthe excuse was fully justified; but the colonel said promptly, "Dick'sa fool, and you might have told him there were worse things to be met onthe road than bogies. Run away now, and see that the niggers are on handwhen the stage comes."
Two hours later the stage came with a clatter of hoofs and a cloud ofred dust, which precipitated itself and a dozen thirsty travelersupon the veranda before the hotel bar-room; it brought also the usual"express" newspapers and much talk to Colonel Swinger, who alwaysreceived his guests in a lofty personal fashion at the door, as he mighthave done in his old Virginian home; but it brought likewise--marvelousto relate--an ACTUAL GUEST, who had two trunks and asked for a room! Hewas evidently a stranger to the ways of Buena Vista, and particularlyto those of Colonel Swinger, and at first seemed inclined to resent thesocial attitude of his host, and his frank and free curiosity. When he,however, found that Colonel Swinger was even better satisfied to givean account of HIS OWN affairs, his family, pedigree, and his presentresidence, he began to betray some interest. The colonel told himall the news, and would no doubt have even expatiated on his ghostlyvisitant, had he not prudently concluded that his guest might decline toremain in a haunted inn. The stranger had spoken of staying a week; hehad some private mining speculations to watch at Wynyard's Gulch,--thenext settlement, but he did not care to appear openly at the "GulchHotel." He was a man of thirty, with soft, pleasing features and asingular litheness of movement, which, combined with a nut-brown, gypsycomplexion, at first suggested a foreigner. But his dialect, to thecolonel's ears, was distinctly that of New England, and to this wasadded a puritanical and sanctimonious drawl. "He looked," said thecolonel in after years, "like a blank light mulatter, but talked like ablank Yankee parson." For all that, he was acceptable to his host, whomay have felt that his reminiscences of his plantation on the JamesRiver were palling on Buena Vista ears, and was glad of his new auditor.It was an advertisement, too, of the hotel, and a promise of its futurefortunes. "Gentlemen having propahty interests at the Gulch, sah, preferto stay at Buena Vista with another man of propahty, than to trust tothose new-fangled papah-collared, gingerbread booths for traders thatthey call 'hotels' there," he had remarked to some of "the boys." In hispreoccupation with the new guest, he also became a little neglectfulof his old chum and dependent, Larry Hawkins. Nor was this the onlycircumstance that filled the head of that shiftless loyal retainerof the colonel with bitterness and foreboding. Polly Swinger--thescornfully indifferent, the contemptuously inaccessible, the coldlycapricious and petulant--was inclined to be polite to the stranger!
The fact was that Polly, after the fashion of her sex, took it intoher pretty head, against all consistency and logic, suddenly to makean exception to her general attitude towards mankind in favor of oneindividual. The reason-seeking masculine reader will rashly concludethat this individual was the CAUSE as well as the object; but I amsatisfied that every fair reader of these pages will instinctively knowbetter. Miss Polly had simply selected the new guest, Mr. Starbuck, toshow OTHERS, particularly Larry Hawkins, what she COULD do if she wereinclined to be civil. For two days she "fixed up" her distracting hairat him so that its silken floss encircled her head like a nimbus; shetucked her oval chin into a white fichu instead of a buttonless collar;she appeared at dinner in a newly starched yellow frock! She talkedto him with "company
manners;" said she would "admire to go to SanFrancisco," and asked if he knew her old friends the Fauquier girlsfrom "Faginia." The colonel was somewhat disturbed; he was glad that hisdaughter had become less negligent of her personal appearance; he couldnot but see, with the others, how it enhanced her graces; but he was,with the others, not entirely satisfied with her reasons. And he couldnot help observing--what was more or less patent to ALL--that Starbuckwas far from being equally responsive to her attentions, and at timeswas indifferent and almost uncivil. Nobody seemed to be satisfied withPolly's transformation but herself.
But eventually she was obliged to assert herself. The third eveningafter Starbuck's arrival she was going over to the cabin of Aunt Chloe,who not only did the washing for Buena Vista, but assisted Polly indressmaking. It was not far, and the night was moonlit. As she crossedthe garden she saw Starbuck moving in the manzanita bushes beyond; amischievous light came into her eyes; she had not EXPECTED to meet him,but she had seen him go out, and there were always POSSIBILITIES. To hersurprise, however, he merely lifted his hat as she passed, andturned abruptly in another direction. This was more than the littleheart-breaker of Buena Vista was accustomed to!
"Oh, Mr. Starbuck!" she called, in her laziest voice.
He turned almost impatiently.
"Since you're so civil and pressing, I thought I'd tell you I was justrunnin' over to Aunt Chloe's," she said dryly.
"I should think it was hardly the proper thing for a young lady to doat this time of night," he said superciliously. "But you know best,--youknow the people here."
Polly's cheeks and eyes flamed. "Yes, I reckon I do," she said crisply;"it's only a STRANGER here would think of being rude. Good-night, Mr.Starbuck!"
She tripped away after this Parthian shot, yet feeling, even in hertriumph, that the conceited fool seemed actually relieved at herdeparture! And for the first time she now thought that she had seensomething in his face that she did not like! But her lazy independencereasserted itself soon, and half an hour later, when she had left AuntChloe's cabin, she had regained her self-esteem. Yet, to avoid meetinghim again, she took a longer route home, across the dried ditch and overthe bluff, scarred by hydraulics, and so fell, presently, upon the oldgarden at the point where it adjoined the abandoned diggings. She wasquite sure she had escaped a meeting with Starbuck, and was glidingalong under the shadow of the pear-trees, when she suddenly stopped. Anindescribable terror overcame her as she stared at a spot in the garden,perfectly illuminated by the moonlight not fifty yards from where shestood. For she saw on its surface a human head--a man's head!--seeminglyon the level of the ground, staring in her direction. A hysterical laughsprang from her lips, and she caught at the branches above her orshe would have fallen! Yet in that moment the head had vanished! Themoonlight revealed the empty garden,--the ground she had gazed at,--butnothing more!
She had never been superstitious. As a child she had heard the negroestalk of "the hants,"--that is, "the HAUNTS" or spirits,--but hadbelieved it a part of their ignorance, and unworthy a white child,--thedaughter of their master! She had laughed with Dick Ruggles over theillusions of Larry, and had shared her father's contemptuous disbeliefof the wandering visitant being anything but a living man; yet she wouldhave screamed for assistance now, only for the greater fear of makingher weakness known to Mr. Starbuck, and being dependent upon him forhelp. And with it came the sudden conviction that HE had seen this awfulvision, too. This would account for his impatience of her presence andhis rudeness. She felt faint and giddy. Yet after the first shock hadpassed, her old independence and pride came to her relief. She would goto the spot and examine it. If it were some trick or illusion, she wouldshow her superiority and have the laugh on Starbuck. She set her whiteteeth, clenched her little hands, and started out into the moonlight.But alas! for women's weakness. The next moment she uttered a scream andalmost fell into the arms of Mr. Starbuck, who had stepped out of theshadows beside her.
"So you see you HAVE been frightened," he said, with a strange, forcedlaugh; "but I warned you about going out alone!"
Even in her fright she could not help seeing that he, too, seemed paleand agitated, at which she recovered her tongue and her self-possession.
"Anybody would be frightened by being dogged about under the trees," shesaid pertly.
"But you called out before you saw me," he said bluntly, "as ifsomething had frightened you. That was WHY I came towards you."
She knew it was the truth; but as she would not confess to her vision,she fibbed outrageously.
"Frightened," she said, with pale but lofty indignation. "What was thereto frighten me? I'm not a baby, to think I see a bogie in the dark!"This was said in the faint hope that HE had seen something too. If ithad been Larry or her father who had met her, she would have confessedeverything.
"You had better go in," he said curtly. "I will see you safe inside thehouse."
She demurred at this, but as she could not persist in her first boldintention of examining the locality of the vision without admitting itsexistence, she permitted him to walk with her to the house, and then atonce fled to her own room. Larry and her father noticed their entrancetogether and their agitated manner, and were uneasy. Yet the colonel'spaternal pride and Larry's lover's respect kept the two men fromcommunicating their thoughts to each other.
"The confounded pup has been tryin' to be familiar, and Polly's set himdown," thought Larry, with glowing satisfaction.
"He's been trying some of his sanctimonious Yankee abolition talk onPolly, and she shocked him!" thought the colonel exultingly.
But poor Polly had other things to think of in the silence of her room.Another woman would have unburdened herself to a confidante; butPolly was too loyal to her father to shatter his beliefs, and toohigh-spirited to take another and a lesser person into her confidence.She was certain that Aunt Chloe would be full of sympathetic belief andspeculations, but she would not trust a nigger with what she couldn'ttell her own father. For Polly really and truly believed that she hadseen a ghost, no doubt the ghost of the murdered Sobriente, accordingto Larry's story. WHY he should appear with only his head above groundpuzzled her, although it suggested the Catholic idea of purgatory, andhe was a Catholic! Perhaps he would have risen entirely but for thatstupid Starbuck's presence; perhaps he had a message for HER alone. Theidea pleased Polly, albeit it was a "fearful joy" and attended with somecold shivering. Naturally, as a gentleman, he would appear to HER--thedaughter of a gentleman--the successor to his house--rather than toa Yankee stranger. What was she to do? For once her calm nerves werestrangely thrilled; she could not think of undressing and going tobed, and two o'clock surprised her, still meditating, and occasionallypeeping from her window upon the moonlit but vacant garden. If she sawhim again, would she dare to go down alone? Suddenly she started toher feet with a beating heart! There was the unmistakable sound of astealthy footstep in the passage, coming towards her room. Was it he? Inspite of her high resolves she felt that if the door opened she shouldscream! She held her breath--the footsteps came nearer--were before herdoor--and PASSED!
Then it was that the blood rushed back to her cheek with a flush ofindignation. Her room was at the end of the passage; there was nothingbeyond but a private staircase, long disused, except by herself, as ashort cut through the old patio to the garden. No one else knew ofit, and no one else had the right of access to it! This insolent humanintrusion--as she was satisfied it was now--overcame her fear, andshe glided to the door. Opening it softly, she could hear the stealthyfootsteps descending. She darted back, threw a shawl over her head andshoulders, and taking the small Derringer pistol which it had alwaysbeen part of her ostentatious independence to place at her bed-head,she as stealthily followed the intruder. But the footsteps had diedaway before she reached the patio, and she saw only the small deserted,grass-grown courtyard, half hidden in shadows, in whose centre stood thefateful and long sealed-up well! A shudder came over her at again beingbrought into contact with the cause of her frigh
tful vision, but as hereyes became accustomed to the darkness, she saw something more real andappalling! The well was no longer sealed! Fragments of bricks and boardslay around it! One end of a rope, coiled around it like a huge snake,descended its foul depths; and as she gazed with staring eyes, thehead and shoulders of a man emerged slowly from it! But it was NOT theghostly apparition of last evening, and her terror changed to scorn andindignation as she recognized the face of Starbuck!
Their eyes met; an oath broke from his lips. He made a movement tospring from the well, but as the girl started back, the pistol heldin her hand was discharged aimlessly in the air, and the report echoedthroughout the courtyard. With a curse Starbuck drew back, instantlydisappeared in the well, and Polly fell fainting on the steps. When shecame to, her father and Larry were at her side. They had been alarmedat the report, and had rushed quickly to the patio, but not in time toprevent the escape of Starbuck and his accomplice. By the time she hadrecovered her consciousness, they had learned the full extent of thatextraordinary revelation which she had so innocently precipitated.Sobriente's well had really concealed a rich gold ledge,--actuallytunneled and galleried by him secretly in the past,--and its only otheroutlet was an opening in the garden hidden by a stone which turned on aswivel. Its existence had been unknown to Sobriente's successor, butwas known to the Kanaka who had worked with Sobriente, who fled withhis daughter after the murder, but who no doubt was afraid to returnand work the mine. He had imparted the secret to Starbuck, anotherhalf-breed, son of a Yankee missionary and Hawaiian wife, who hadevidently conceived this plan of seeking Buena Vista with an accomplice,and secretly removing such gold as was still accessible. The accomplice,afterwards identified by Larry as the wandering tramp, failed todiscover the secret entrance FROM the garden, and Starbuck wasconsequently obliged to attempt it from the hotel--for which purposehe had introduced himself as a boarder--by opening the disused wellsecretly at night. These facts were obtained from papers found in theotherwise valueless trunks, weighted with stones for ballast, whichStarbuck had brought to the hotel to take away his stolen treasure in,but which he was obliged to leave in his hurried flight. The attemptwould have doubtless succeeded but for Polly's courageous and timelyinterference!
And now that they had told her ALL, they only wanted to know what hadfirst excited HER suspicions, and driven her to seek the well as theobject of Starbuck's machinations? THEY had noticed her manner when sheentered the house that night, and Starbuck's evident annoyance. Had shetaxed him with her suspicions, and so discovered a clue?
It was a terrible temptation to Polly to pose as a more perfect heroine,and one may not blame her if she did not rise entirely superior to it.Her previous belief, that the head of the accomplice at the opening ofthe garden was that of a GHOST, she now felt was certainly in the way,as was also her conduct to Starbuck, whom she believed to be equallyfrightened, and whom she never once suspected! So she said, with acertain lofty simplicity, that there were SOME THINGS which she reallydid not care to talk about, and Larry and her father left her that nightwith the firm conviction that the rascal Starbuck had tried to tempt herto fly with him and his riches, and had been crushingly foiled. Pollynever denied this, and once, in later days, when admiringly taxed withit by Larry, she admitted with dove-like simplicity that she MAY havebeen too foolishly polite to her father's guest for the sake of herfather's hotel.
However, all this was of small account to the thrilling news of a newdiscovery and working of the "old gold ledge" at Buena Vista! As thethree kept their secret from the world, the discovery was accepted inthe neighborhood as the result of careful examination and prospecting onthe part of Colonel Swinger and his partner Larry Hawkins. And whenthe latter gentleman afterwards boldly proposed to Polly Swinger, shemischievously declared that she accepted him only that the secret mightnot go "out of the family."
LIBERTY JONES'S DISCOVERY
It was at best merely a rocky trail winding along a shelf of the easternslope of the Santa Cruz range, yet the only road between the sea and theinland valley. The hoof-prints of a whole century of zigzagging muleswere impressed on the soil, regularly soaked by winter rains and driedby summer suns during that period; the occasional ruts of heavy,rude, wooden wheels--long obsolete--were still preserved and visible.Weather-worn boulders and ledges, lying in the unclouded glare of anAugust sky, radiated a quivering heat that was intolerable, even whileabove them the masts of gigantic pines rocked their tops in the coldsouthwestern trades from the unseen ocean beyond. A red, burning dustlay everywhere, as if the heat were slowly and visibly precipitatingitself.
The creaking of wheels and axles, the muffled plunge of hoofs, and thecough of a horse in the dust thus stirred presently broke the profoundwoodland silence. Then a dirty white canvas-covered emigrant wagonslowly arose with the dust along the ascent. It was travel-stained andworn, and with its rawboned horses seemed to have reached the laststage of its journey and fitness. The only occupants, a man and a girl,appeared to be equally jaded and exhausted, with the added querulousnessof discontent in their sallow and badly nourished faces. Their voices,too, were not unlike the creaking they had been pitched to overcome, andthere was an absence of reserve and consciousness in their speech, whichtold pathetically of an equal absence of society.
"It's no user talkin'! I tell ye, ye hain't got no more sense than acoyote! I'm sick and tired of it, doggoned if I ain't! Ye ain't no moreuse nor a hossfly,--and jest ez hinderin'! It was along o' you that welost the stock at Laramie, and ef ye'd bin at all decent and takin',we'd hev had kempany that helped, instead of laggin' on yere alone!"
"What did ye bring me for?" retorted the girl shrilly. "I might hevstayed with Aunt Marty. I wasn't hankerin' to come."
"Bring ye for?" repeated her father contemptuously; "I reckoned ye mighthe o' some account here, whar wimmin folks is skeerce, in the way o'helpin',--and mebbe gettin' yer married to some likely feller. Mightymuch chance o' that, with yer yaller face and skin and bones."
"Ye can't blame me for takin' arter you, dad," she said, with a shrilllaugh, but no other resentment of his brutality.
"Ye want somebody to take arter you--with a club," he retorted angrily."Ye hear! Wot's that ye're doin' now?"
She had risen and walked to the tail of the wagon. "Goin' to get out andwalk. I'm tired o' bein' jawed at."
She jumped into the road. The act was neither indignant nor vengeful;the frequency of such scenes had blunted their sting. She was probably"tired" of the quarrel, and ended it rudely. Her father, however, letfly a Parthian arrow.
"Ye needn't think I'm goin' to wait for ye, ez I hev! Ye've got to keeptetch with the team, or get left. And a good riddance of bad rubbidge."
In reply the girl dived into the underwood beside the trail, picked awild berry or two, stripped a wand of young hazel she had broken off,and switching it at her side, skipped along on the outskirts of thewood and ambled after the wagon. Seen in the full, merciless glare of aCalifornian sky, she justified her father's description; thin and bony,her lank frame outstripped the body of her ragged calico dress, whichwas only kept on her shoulders by straps,--possibly her father'scast-off braces. A boy's soft felt hat covered her head, and shadowedher only notable feature, a pair of large dark eyes, looking larger forthe hollow temples which narrowed the frame in which they were set.
So long as the wagon crawled up the ascent the girl knew she couldeasily keep up with it, or even distance the tired horses. She made oneor two incursions into the wood, returning like an animal from quest offood, with something in her mouth, which she was tentatively chewing,and once only with some inedible mandrono berries, plucked solely fortheir brilliant coloring. It was very hot and singularly close; thehigher current of air had subsided, and, looking up, a singular hazeseemed to have taken its place between the treetops. Suddenly she hearda strange, rumbling sound; an odd giddiness overtook her, and she wasobliged to clutch at a sapling to support herself; she laughed vacantly,though a little frightened, and looked vaguely towar
ds the summit of theroad; but the wagon had already disappeared. A strange feeling ofnausea then overcame her; she spat out the leaves she had been chewing,disgustedly. But the sensation as quickly passed, and she once moresought the trail and began slowly to follow the tracks of the wagon. Theair blew freshly, the treetops began again to rock over her head, andthe incident was forgotten.
Presently she paused; she must have missed the trail, for the wagontracks had ended abruptly before a large boulder that lay across themountain trail. She dipped into the woods again; here there were otherwagon tracks that confused her. It was like her dogged, stupid fatherto miss the trail; she felt a gleam of malicious satisfaction at hisdiscomfiture. Sooner or later, he would have to retrace his steps andvirtually come back for her! She took up a position where two roughwheel ruts and tracks intersected each other, one of which must bethe missing trail. She noticed, too, the broader hoof-prints of cattlewithout the following wheel ruts, and instead of traces, the long smoothtrails made by the dragging of logs, and knew by these tokens that shemust be near the highway or some woodman's hut or ranch. She began to bethirsty, and was glad, presently, when her quick, rustic ear caughtthe tinkling of water. Yet it was not so easy to discover, and she wasgetting footsore and tired again before she found it, some distanceaway, in a gully coming from a fissure in a dislocated piece of outcrop.It was beautifully clear, cold, and sparkling, with a slightly sweetishtaste, yet unlike the brackish "alkali" of the plains. It refreshed andsoothed her greatly, so much that, reclining against a tree, but whereshe would be quite visible from the trail, her eyes closed dreamily, andpresently she slept.
When she awoke, the shafts of sunlight were striking almost level intoher eyes. She must have slept two hours. Her father had not returned;she knew the passage of the wagon would have awakened her. She began tofeel strange, but not yet alarmed; it was only the uncertainty that madeher uneasy. Had her father really gone on by some other trail? Or had hereally hurried on and left her, as he said he would? The thoughtbrought an odd excitement to her rather than any fear. A sudden sense offreedom, as if some galling chain had dropped from her, sent a singularthrill through her frame. Yet she felt confused with her independence,not knowing what to do with it, and momentarily dazzled with thepossible gift.
At this moment she heard voices, and the figures of two men appeared onthe trail.
They were talking earnestly, and walking as if familiar with the spot,yet gazing around them as if at some novelty of the aspect.
"And look there," said one; "there has been some serious disturbance ofthat outcrop," pointing in the direction of the spring; "the lowerpart has distinctly subsided." He spoke with a certain authority, anddominance of position, and was evidently the superior, as he was theelder of the two, although both were roughly dressed.
"Yes, it does kinder look as if it had lost its holt, like the ledgeyonder."
"And you see I am right; the movement was from east to west," continuedthe elder man.
The girl could not comprehend what they said, and even thought thema little silly. But she advanced towards them; at which they stoppedshort, staring at her. With feminine instinct she addressed the moreimportant one:--
"Ye ain't passed no wagon nor team goin' on, hev ye?"
"What sort of wagon?" said the man.
"Em'grant wagon, two yaller hosses. Old man--my dad--drivin'." She addedthe latter kinship as a protecting influence against strangers, in spiteof her previous independence.
The men glanced at each other.
"How long ago?"
The girl suddenly remembered that she had slept two hours.
"Sens noon," she said hesitatingly.
"Since the earthquake?"
"Wot's that?"
The man came impatiently towards her. "How did you come here?"
"Got outer the wagon to walk. I reckon dad missed the trail, and hez gotoff somewhere where I can't find him."
"What trail was he on,--where was he going?"
"Sank Hozay,* I reckon. He was goin' up the grade--side o' the hill; hemust hev turned off where there's a big rock hangin' over."
* San Jose.
"Did you SEE him turn off?"
"No."
The second man, who was in hearing distance, had turned away, and wasostentatiously examining the sky and the treetops; the man who hadspoken to her joined him, and they said something in a low voice. Theyturned again and came slowly towards her. She, from some obscure senseof imitation, stared at the treetops and the sky as the second man haddone. But the first man now laid his hand kindly on her shoulder andsaid, "Sit down."
Then they told her there had been an earthquake so strong that it hadthrown down a part of the hillside, including the wagon trail. That awagon team and driver, such as she had described, had been carried downwith it, crushed to fragments, and buried under a hundred feet of rockin the gulch below. A party had gone down to examine, but it would beweeks perhaps before they found it, and she must be prepared for theworst. She looked at them vaguely and with tearless eyes.
"Then ye reckon dad's dead?"
"We fear it."
"Then wot's a-goin' to become o' me?" she said simply.
They glanced again at each other. "Have you no friends in California?"said the elder man.
"Nary one."
"What was your father going to do?"
"Dunno. I reckon HE didn't either."
"You may stay here for the present," said the elder man meditatively."Can you milk?"
The girl nodded. "And I suppose you know something about looking afterstock?" he continued.
The girl remembered that her father thought she didn't, but this was notime for criticism, and she again nodded.
"Come with me," said the older man, rising. "I suppose," he added,glancing at her ragged frock, "everything you have is in the wagon."
She nodded, adding with the same cold naivete, "It ain't much!"
They walked on, the girl following; at times straying furtively oneither side, as if meditating an escape in the woods,--which indeedhad once or twice been vaguely in her thoughts,--but chiefly to avoidfurther questioning and not to hear what the men said to each other. Forthey were evidently speaking of her, and she could not help hearingthe younger repeat her words, "Wot's agoin' to become o' me?" withconsiderable amusement, and the addition: "She'll take care of herself,you bet! I call that remark o' hers the richest thing out."
"And I call the state of things that provoked it--monstrous!" said theelder man grimly. "You don't know the lives of these people."
Presently they came to an open clearing in the forest, yet so incompletethat many of the felled trees, partly lopped of their boughs, stilllay where they had fallen. There was a cabin or dwelling of unplaned,unpainted boards; very simple in structure, yet made in a workmanlikefashion, quite unlike the usual log cabin she had seen. This made herthink that the elder man was a "towny," and not a frontiersman like theother.
As they approached the cabin the elder man stopped, and turning to her,said:--
"Do you know Indians?"
The girl started, and then recovering herself with a quick laugh:"G'lang!--there ain't any Injins here!"
"Not the kind YOU mean; these are very peaceful. There's a squaw herewhom you will"--he stopped, hesitated as he looked critically at thegirl, and then corrected himself--"who will help you."
He pushed open the cabin door and showed an interior, equally simple butwell joined and fitted,--a marvel of neatness and finish to the frontiergirl's eye. There were shelves and cupboards and other conveniences, yetwith no ostentation of refinement to frighten her rustic sensibilities.
Then he pushed open another door leading into a shed and called "Waya."A stout, undersized Indian woman, fitted with a coarse cotton gown, butcleaner and more presentable than the girl's one frock, appeared in thedoorway. "This is Waya, who attends to the cooking and cleaning," hesaid; "and by the way, what is your name?"
"Libby Jones."
He t
ook a small memorandum book and a "stub" of pencil from his pocket."Elizabeth Jones," he said, writing it down. The girl interposed a longred hand.
"No," she interrupted sharply, "not Elizabeth, but Libby, short forLib'rty."
"Liberty?"
"Yes."
"Liberty Jones, then. Well, Waya, this is Miss Jones, who will lookafter the cows and calves--and the dairy." Then glancing at her torndress, he added: "You'll find some clean things in there, until I cansend up something from San Jose. Waya will show you."
Without further speech he turned away with the other man. When they weresome distance from the cabin, the younger remarked:--
"More like a boy than a girl, ain't she?"
"So much the better for her work," returned the elder grimly.
"I reckon! I was only thinkin' she didn't han'some much either as a boyor girl, eh, doctor?" he pursued.
"Well! as THAT won't make much difference to the cows, calves, or thedairy, it needn't trouble US," returned the doctor dryly. But here asudden outburst of laughter from the cabin made them both turn in thatdirection. They were in time to see Liberty Jones dancing out of thecabin door in a large cotton pinafore, evidently belonging to thesquaw, who was following her with half-laughing, half-frightenedexpostulations. The two men stopped and gazed at the spectacle.
"Don't seem to be takin' the old man's death very pow'fully," said theyounger, with a laugh.
"Quite as much as he deserved, I daresay," said the doctor curtly. "Ifthe accident had happened to HER, he would have whined and whimpered tous for the sake of getting something, but have been as much relieved,you may be certain. SHE'S too young and too natural to be a hypocriteyet."
Suddenly the laughter ceased and Liberty Jones's voice arose, shrillbut masterful: "Thar, that'll do! Quit now! You jest get back to yourscrubbin'--d'ye hear? I'm boss o' this shanty, you bet!"
The doctor turned with a grim smile to his companion. "That's the onlything that bothered me, and I've been waiting for. She's settled it.She'll do. Come."
They turned away briskly through the wood. At the end of half an hour'swalk they found the team that had brought them there in waiting, anddrove towards San Jose. It was nearly ten miles before they passedanother habitation or trace of clearing. And by this time night hadfallen upon the cabin they had left, and upon the newly made orphan andher Indian companion, alone and contented in that trackless solitude.
*****
Liberty Jones had been a year at the cabin. In that time she had learnedthat her employer's name was Doctor Ruysdael, that he had a lucrativepractice in San Jose, but had also "taken up" a league or two of wildforest land in the Santa Cruz range, which he preserved and held aftera fashion of his own, which gave him the reputation of being a "crank"among the very few neighbors his vast possessions permitted, and theequally few friends his singular tastes allowed him. It was believedthat a man owning such an enormous quantity of timber land, who shouldrefuse to set up a sawmill and absolutely forbid the felling of trees;who should decline to connect it with the highway to Santa Cruz, andclose it against improvement and speculation, had given sufficientevidence of his insanity; but when to this was added the rumor that hehimself was not only devoid of the human instinct of hunting the wildanimals with which his domain abounded, but that he held it so sacred totheir use as to forbid the firing of a gun within his limits, and thatthese restrictions were further preserved and "policed" by the scatteredremnants of a band of aborigines,--known as "digger Injins,"--it wasseriously hinted that his eccentricity had acquired a political andmoral significance, and demanded legislative interference. But thedoctor was a rich man, a necessity to his patients, a good marksman,and, it was rumored, did not include his fellow men among the animals hehad a distaste for killing.
Of all this, however, Liberty knew little and cared less. The solitudeappealed to her sense of freedom; she did not "hanker" after a societyshe had never known. At the end of the first week, when the doctorcommunicated to her briefly, by letter, the convincing proofs of thedeath of her father and his entombment beneath the sunken cliff, sheaccepted the fact without comment or apparent emotion. Two monthslater, when her only surviving relative, "Aunt Marty," of Missouri,acknowledged the news--communicated by Doctor Ruysdael--with Scripturalquotations and the cheerful hope that it "would be a lesson to her"and she would "profit in her new place," she left her aunt's letterunanswered.
She looked after the cows and calves with an interest that was almostpossessory, patronized and played with the squaw,--yet made her feelher inferiority,--and moved among the peaceful aborigines withthe domination of a white woman and a superior. She tolerated thehalf-monthly visits of "Jim Hoskins," the young companion of the doctor,who she learned was the doctor's factor and overseer of the property,who lived seven miles away on an agricultural clearing, and whosecontrol of her actions was evidently limited by the doctor,--for thedoctor's sake alone. Nor was Mr. Hoskins inclined to exceed thoselimits. He looked upon her as something abnormal,--a "crank" asremarkable in her way as her patron was in his, neuter of sex and vagueof race, and he simply restricted his supervision to the bringingand taking of messages. She remained sole queen of the domain. A rarestraggler from the main road, penetrating this seclusion, might havescarcely distinguished her from Waya, in her coarse cotton gown andslouched hat, except for the free stride which contrasted with hercompanion's waddle. Once, in following an estrayed calf, she hadcrossed the highway and been saluted by a passing teamster in the diggerdialect; yet the mistake left no sting in her memory. And, like thedigger, she shrank from that civilization which had only proved a hardtaskmaster.
The sole touch of human interest she had in her surroundings was in therare visits of the doctor and his brief but sincere commendation ofher rude and rustic work. It is possible that the strange, middle-aged,gray-haired, intellectual man, whose very language was at timesmysterious and unintelligible to her, and whose suggestion of power awedher, might have touched some untried filial chord in her being. Althoughshe felt that, save for absolute freedom, she was little more to himthan she had been to her father, yet he had never told her she had"no sense," that she was "a hindrance," and he had even praised herperformance of her duties. Eagerly as she looked for his coming, inhis actual presence she felt a singular uneasiness of which she was notentirely ashamed, and if she was relieved at his departure, it nonethe less left her to a delightful memory of him, a warm sense of hisapproval, and a fierce ambition to be worthy of it, for which she wouldhave sacrificed herself or the other miserable retainers about her, as amatter of course. She had driven Waya and the other squaws far alongthe sparse tableland pasture in search of missing stock; she herselfhad lain out all night on the rocks beside an ailing heifer. Yet, whilesatisfied to earn his praise for the performance of her duty, for somefeminine reason she thought more frequently of a casual remark he hadmade on his last visit: "You are stronger and more healthy in thisair," he had said, looking critically into her face. "We have got thatabominable alkali out of your system, and wholesome food will do therest." She was not sure she had quite understood him, but she rememberedthat she had felt her face grow hot when he spoke,--perhaps because shehad not understood him.
His next visit was a day or two delayed, and in her anxiety she hadventured as far as the highway to earnestly watch for his coming. Fromher hiding-place in the underwood she could see the team and Jim Hoskinsalready waiting for him. Presently she saw him drive up to the trailin a carryall with a party of ladies and gentlemen. He alighted, bade"Good-by" to the party, and the team turned to retrace its course. Butin that single moment she had been struck and bewildered by whatseemed to her the dazzlingly beautiful apparel of the women, and theirprettiness. She felt a sudden consciousness of her own coarse, shapelesscalico gown, her straggling hair, and her felt hat, and a revulsionof feeling seized her. She crept like a wounded animal out of theunderwood, and then ran swiftly and almost fiercely back towards thecabin. She ran so fast that for a time she almost kept pace with th
edoctor and Hoskins in the wagon on the distant trail. Then she divedinto the underwood again, and making a short cut through theforest, came at the end of two hours within hailing distance of thecabin,--footsore and exhausted, in spite of the strange excitement thathad driven her back. Here she thought she heard voices--his voiceamong the rest--calling her, but the same singular revulsion of feelinghurried her vaguely on again, even while she experienced a foolishsavage delight in not answering the summons. In this erratic wanderingshe came upon the spring she had found on her first entrance in theforest a year ago, and drank feverishly a second time at its tricklingsource. She could see that since her first visit it had worn a greathollow below the tree roots and now formed a shining, placid pool. Asshe stooped to look at it, she suddenly observed that it reflected herwhole figure as in a cruel mirror,--her slouched hat and loosenedhair, her coarse and shapeless gown, her hollow cheeks and dry yellowskin,--in all their hopeless, uncompromising details. She uttered aquick, angry, half-reproachful cry, and turned again to fly. But she hadnot gone far before she came upon the hurrying figures and anxious facesof the doctor and Hoskins. She stopped, trembling and irresolute.
"Ah," said the doctor, in a tone of frank relief. "Here you are! I wasgetting worried about you. Waya said you had been gone since morning!"He stopped and looked at her attentively. "Is anything the matter?"
His evident concern sent a warm glow over her chilly frame, and yet thestrange sensation remained. "No--no!" she stammered.
Doctor Ruysdael turned to Hoskins. "Go back and tell Waya I've foundher."
Libby felt that the doctor only wanted to get rid of his companion, andbecame awed again.
"Has anybody been bothering you?"
"No."
"Have the diggers frightened you?"
"No"--with a gesture of contempt.
"Have you and Waya quarreled?"
"Nary"--with a faint, tremulous smile.
He still stared at her, and then dropped his blue eyes musingly. "Areyou lonely here? Would you rather go to San Jose?"
Like a flash the figures of the two smartly dressed women started upbefore her again, with every detail of their fresh and wholesome fineryas cruelly distinct as had been her own shapeless ugliness in the mirrorof the spring. "No! NO!" she broke out vehemently and passionately."Never!"
He smiled gently. "Look here! I'll send you up some books. Youread--don't you?" She nodded quickly. "Some magazines and papers. Odd Inever thought of it before," he added half musingly. "Come along to thecabin. And," he stopped again and said decisively, "the next time youwant anything, don't wait for me to come, but write."
A few days after he left she received a package of books,--an oddcollection of novels, magazines, and illustrated journals of the period.She received them eagerly as an evidence of his concern for her, but itis to be feared that her youthful nature found little satisfaction inthe gratification of fancy. Many of the people she read of were strangeto her; many of the incidents related seemed to her mere lies; sometales which treated of people in her own sphere she found profoundlyuninteresting. In one of the cheaper magazines she chanced upon afashion plate; she glanced eagerly through all the others for a likerevelation until she got a dozen together, when she promptly relegatedthe remaining literature to a corner and oblivion. The text accompanyingthe plates was in a jargon not always clear, but her instinct suppliedthe rest. She dispatched by Hoskins a note to Doctor Ruysdael: "Pleasesend me some brite kalikers and things for sewing. You told me to ask."A few days later brought the response in a good-sized parcel.
Yet this did not keep her from her care of the stock nor her rambles inthe forest; she was quick to utilize her rediscovery of the spring forwatering the cattle; it was not so far afield as the half-dried creek inthe canyon, and was a quiet sylvan spot. She ate her frugal midday mealthere and drank of its waters, and, secure in her seclusion, bathedthere and made her rude toilet when the cows were driven home. But shedid not again look into its mirrored surface when it was tranquil!
And so a month passed. But when Doctor Ruysdael was again due at thecabin, a letter was brought by Hoskins, with the news that he was calledaway on professional business down the coast, and could not come untiltwo weeks later. In the disappointment that overcame her, she did not atfirst notice that Hoskins was gazing at her with a singular expression,which was really one of undisguised admiration. Never having seen thisbefore in the eyes of any man who looked at her, she referred it to somevague "larking" or jocularity, for which she was in no mood.
"Say, Libby! you're gettin' to be a right smart-lookin' gal. Seems toagree with ye up here," said Hoskins with an awkward laugh. "Darned efye ain't lookin' awful purty!"
"G'long!" said Liberty Jones, more than ever convinced of his badinage.
"Fact," said Hoskins energetically. "Why, Doc would tell ye so, too. Seeef he don't!"
At this Liberty Jones felt her face grow hot. "You jess get!" she said,turning away in as much embarrassment as anger. Yet he hovered nearher with awkward attentions that pleased while it still angered her.He offered to go with her to look up the cows; she flatly declined, yetwith a strange satisfaction in his evident embarrassment. This may havelent some animation to her face, for he drew a long breath and said:--
"Don't go pertendin' ye don't know yer purty. Say, let me and you walka bit and have a talk together." But Libby had another idea in her mindand curtly dismissed him. Then she ran swiftly to the spring, for thewords "The Doc will tell ye so, too" were ringing in her ears. Thedoctor who came with the two beautifully dressed women! HE--would tellher she was pretty! She had not dared to look at herself in that crystalmirror since that dreadful day two months ago. She would now.
It was a pretty place in the cool shade of the giant trees, and thehoof-marks of cattle drinking from the run beneath the pool had notdisturbed the margin of that tranquil sylvan basin. For a moment shestood tremulous and uncertain, and then going up to the shining mirror,dropped on her knees before it with her thin red hands clasped on herlap. Unconsciously she had taken the attitude of prayer; perhaps therewas something like it in her mind.
And then the light glanced full on the figure that she saw there!
It fell on a full oval face and throat guileless of fleck or stain,smooth as a child's and glowing with health; on large dark eyes, nolonger sunk in their orbits, but filled with an eager, happy light; onbared arms now shapely in contour and cushioned with firm flesh; on adazzling smile, the like of which had never been on the face of LibertyJones before!
She rose to her feet, and yet lingered as if loath to part from thisdelightful vision. Then a fear overcame her that it was some trick ofthe water, and she sped swiftly back to the house to consult the littlemirror which hung in her sleeping-room, but which she had never glancedat since the momentous day of the spring. She took it shyly into thesunshine, and found that it corroborated the reflection of the spring.That night she worked until late at the calico Doctor Ruysdael had senther, and went to bed happy. The next day brought her Hoskins again witha feeble excuse of inquiring if she had a letter for the doctor, andshe was surprised to find that he was reinforced by a stranger fromHoskins's farm, who was equally awkward and vaguely admiring. But theappearance of the TWO men produced a singular phase in her impressionsand experience. She was no longer indignant at Hoskins, but she foundrelief in accepting the compliments of the stranger in preference,and felt a delight in Hoskins's discomfiture. Waya, promoted tothe burlesque of a chaperone, grinned with infinite delight andunderstanding.
When at last the day came for the doctor's arrival, he was duly met byHoskins, and as duly informed by that impressible subordinate of thegreat change in Liberty's appearance. But the doctor was far from beingequally impressed with his factor's story, and indeed showed much moreinterest in the appearance of the stock which they met along the road.Once the doctor got out of the wagon to inspect a cow, and particularlythe coat of a rough draught horse that had been turned out and put underLiberty's care. "His skin is
like velvet," said the doctor. "The girlevidently understands stock, and knows how to keep them in condition."
"I reckon she's beginning to understand herself, too," said Hoskins."Golly! wait till ye see HER."
The doctor DID see her, but with what feelings he did not as franklyexpress. She was not at the cabin when they arrived, but presentlyappeared from the direction of the spring where, for reasons of herown, she had evidently made her toilet. Doctor Ruysdael was astounded;Hoskins's praise was not exaggerated; and there was an added charmthat Hoskins was not prepared for. She had put on a gown of her ownmaking,--the secret toil of many a long night,--amateurishly fashionedfrom some cheap yellow calico the doctor had sent her, yet fitting herwonderfully, and showing every curve of her graceful figure. Unaccentedby a corset,--an article she had never known,--even the lines of thestiff, unyielding calico had a fashion that was nymph-like and suitedher unfettered limbs. Doctor Ruysdael was profoundly moved. Though aphilosopher, he was practical. He found himself suddenly confronted notonly by a beautiful girl, but a problem! It was impossible to keepthe existence of this woodland nymph from the knowledge of hisdistant neighbors; it was equally impossible for him to assume theresponsibility of keeping a goddess like this in her present position.He had noticed her previous improvement, but had never dreamed that pureand wholesome living could in two months work such a miracle. And hewas to a certain degree responsible, HE had created her,--a beautifulFrankenstein, whose lustrous, appealing eyes were even now menacing hissecurity and position.
Perhaps she saw trouble and perplexity in the face where she hadexpected admiration and pleasure, for a slight chill went over her ashe quickly praised the appearance of the stock and spoke of her ownimprovement. But when they were alone, he turned to her abruptly.
"You said you had no wish to go to San Jose?"
"No." Yet she was conscious that her greatest objection had beenremoved, and she colored faintly.
"Listen to me," he said dryly. "You deserve a better position thanthis,--a better home and surroundings than you have here. You are older,too,--a woman almost,--and you must look ahead."
A look of mingled fright, reproach, and appeal came into her eloquentface. "Yer wantin' to send me away?" she stammered.
"No," he said frankly. "It is you who are GROWING away. This is nolonger the place for you."
"But I want to stay. I don't wanter go. I am--I WAS happy here."
"But I'm thinking of giving up this place. It takes up too much of mytime. You must be provided"--
"YOU are going away?" she said passionately.
"Yes."
"Take me with you. I'll go anywhere!--to San Jose---wherever you go.Don't turn me off as dad did, for I'll foller you as I never followeddad. I'll go with you--or I'll die!"
There was neither fear nor shame in her words; it was the outspokeninstinct of the animal he had been rearing; he was convinced andappalled by it.
"I am returning to San Jose at once," he said gravely. "You shall gowith me--FOR THE PRESENT! Get yourself ready!"
He took her to San Jose, and temporarily to the house of a patient,--awidow lady,--while he tried, alone, to grapple with the problem that nowconfronted him. But that problem became more complicated at the end ofthe third day, by Liberty Jones falling suddenly and alarmingly ill.The symptoms were so grave that the doctor, in his anxiety, called ina brother physician in consultation. When the examination was over, thetwo men withdrew and stared at each other.
"Of course there is no doubt that the symptoms all point to slowarsenical poisoning," said the consulting doctor.
"Yes," said Ruysdael quickly, "yet it is utterly inexplicable, both asto motive and opportunity."
"Humph!" said the other grimly, "young ladies take arsenic in minutedoses to improve the complexion and promote tissue, forgetting that theeffects are cumulative when they stop suddenly. Your young friend has'sworn off' too quickly."
"But it is impossible," said Doctor Ruysdael impatiently. "She is a merechild--a country girl--ignorant of such habits."
"Humph! the peasants in the Tyrol try it on themselves after noticingthe effect on the coats of cattle."
Doctor Ruysdael started. A recollection of the sleek draught horseflashed upon him. He rose and hastily re-entered the patient's room. Ina few moments he returned. "Do you think I could remove her at once tothe mountains?" he said gravely.
"Yes, with care and a return to graduated doses of the same poison; youknow it's the only remedy just now," answered the other.
By noon the next day the doctor and his patient had returned to thecabin, but Ruysdael himself carried the helpless Liberty Jones to thespring and deposited her gently beside it. "You may drink now," he saidgravely.
The girl did so eagerly, apparently imbibing new strength from thesparkling water. The doctor meanwhile coolly filled a phial from thesame source, and made a hasty test of the contents by the aid of someother phials from his case. The result seemed to satisfy him. Then hesaid gravely:
"And THIS is the spring you had discovered?"
The girl nodded.
"And you and the cattle have daily used it?"
She nodded again wonderingly. Then she caught his hand appealingly.
"You won't send me away?"
He smiled oddly as he glanced from the waters of the hill to thebrimming eyes. "No."
"No-r," tremulously, "go away--yourself?"
The doctor looked this time only into her eyes. There was a tremendousidea in his own, which seemed in some way to have solved that dreadfulproblem.
"No! We will stay here TOGETHER."
*****
Six months later there was a paragraph in the San Francisco press: "Thewonderful Arsenical Spring in the Santa Cruz Mountain, known as 'LibertySpring,' discovered by Doctor Ruysdael, has proved such a remarkablesuccess that we understand the temporary huts for patients are to beshortly replaced by a magnificent Spa Hotel worthy of the spot, and theeligible villa sites it has brought into the market. It will be a sourceof pleasure to all to know that the beautiful nymph--a worthy successorto the far-famed 'Elise' of the German 'Brunnen'--who has administeredthe waters to so many grateful patients will still be in attendance,although it is rumored that she is shortly to become the wife of thedistinguished discoverer."
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