Chapter XIX
Sanchia Persistent
Thus, upon the barren flanks of Dry Gulch, a town was born. Motheredby the stubborn desert that appears sterile and is not, it was asprawling, ungainly, ill-begotten thing. In the night it came; in thedawn it grew; during the first day it assumed lustiness and aninsolence that was its birthright. And, like any welcome child, therewas a name awaiting it. Men laughed as the unceremonious christeningwas performed. A half-drunken vagabond from no one knew where hadstaked out his claim and drained his bottle. 'Here's lookin' atSanchia's Town!' he cried out, and smashed his bottle against a rock.
It appeared that every one had heard the tale of Longstreet's discoveryand of Sanchia Murray's manoeuvre. They made high fun of Longstreetand declared that Sanchia was a cool one. The mere fact that she was awoman enlisted their sympathies in an affair wherein they had nointerest. They were doomed to second choice and deemed it as well forSanchia to have had first as any one. When a narrow-headed individualremarked that he had heard that the widow was getting nothing out ofit, but that Courtot and his crowd had cheated her, they hooted andjeered at him until he withdrew wondering at their insane attitude. Itwas generally taken for granted that Sanchia Murray knew what she wasabout. If she chose to hunt in couple with Jim Courtot, that was herbusiness.
A town is something more than a group of men encamped. It connotesmany social facilities; first among which comes the store and, incertain parts of the world, the saloon. Sanchia's Town was, upon thefirst day, a town in these essentials. Shortly after dawn a string ofthree six-horse teams crawled across the lowlands and, by a circuitousway, to the camp. One wagon was heaped with bits of second-hand lumberand a jumbled assortment of old tents and strips of canvas. In it,also, were hammers, saws and nails. The two other wagons were filledwith boxes and bags--and kegs. There were two men to each team.Arrived they gave immediate evidence that their employer had chosenwell. One of them, a crooked-eyed carpenter named Emberlee, directed,hammer in hand. Before noon he had caused to grow up an architecturalmonstrosity, hideous but sturdy. It was without floor, but it hadwalls; wide gaps were doors and windows, but there was a canvas roof.
While his five companions brought their parcels into the place,Emberlee climbed aloft and nailed up a big board upon which his ownhand, as the wagon had jostled along, had painted a sign. It spelled:JIM COURTOT'S HOUSE. Then he descended and began a hurried grouping ofcertain articles upon shelves and in corners. By the time the camp wasready for a noon meal the word had flown about that at Jim Courtot'sHouse one could get food, water and a widely-known substitute forwhisky. Meantime Tony Moraga had come: he stood behind a bar hastilymade of two planks set on packing cases and sold a tin cup of water fortwenty-five cents, a glass of liquor for fifty. There were calls forboth. Emberlee, plainly a jack-of-all-trades, began displaying hiswares. He offered dried meats, tinned goods, crackers, cheese andother comestibles at several times desert prices. And he, too, chinkedmany a silver dollar and minted gold piece into his cash-box, becausewhen men rush to gold diggings they are not likely to go empty-handed.Shortly after noon the three wagons returned to Big Run for moresupplies.
Obviously, though already Jim Courtot had departed from Dry Gulch whenAlan Howard came upon his agents, he was no less active than they withrich gains in sight. It is to be doubted if the man slept at allduring the first three days and nights. He had made his own list offoods and tobaccos and alcohols; he had selected men for his work.Down in San Juan men said: 'Jim Courtot is playing his luck again.'For though information was garbled long before it reached the missiontown, yet always it was understood that Jim Courtot was playing to winheavily--he and Sanchia Murray.
Those hours which, in Sanchia's Town, had been given over to frenzy andthe fury of feverish endeavour, had dragged by wearily and anxiouslyfor the inmates of Longstreet's half-mile-distant cabin. For bothMonte Devine and Ed True the night was one of bitter rage and pain.Longstreet was gentle with them, bringing them water, asking them oftenof their wants; Helen ministered to them silently, a strange new lookin her eyes. Often she went to the door and stood looking off into themoonlit night, across the rolling hills and down into the wide sweep ofDesert Valley. Carr remained with them all night. It was as well tobe on hand, he suggested, if anything happened. He seemed scarcelyconscious of the presence of the two wounded men; tilted back in hischair, smoking one cigar after another, he scarcely for an instant lostsight of Helen.
In the morning early there was the sound of hoofs and then men'svoices. It was Carr who went to the door.
'It is Bettins and a couple of other men,' he said over his shoulder.'Come for Devine and True, I guess.' And still without turning, hedemanded, 'Ready to go, Monte?'
'Damn right,' said Monte.
Between Carr and Longstreet, Monte shambled to the door. Here he wasturned over to his friends, who got him into his saddle. Then,assisted as Monte had been, and cursing at every step, Ed True passedthrough the door. The men outside accepted the two wounded men withonly a few low words; in another moment the five horses were carryingtheir riders slowly toward Sanchia's Town. Carr returning saw thewhisk of Helen's skirt as she disappeared within the little roompartitioned off at the rear and knew that she had gone to fling herselfdown upon her bed. He looked after her as though he still half hopedshe were coming back if only to say a belated 'good night.' Then heand Longstreet made coffee and drank it perfunctorily. After breakfastCarr left, saying that he would ride over to have a look at the newcamp, and would drop in again some time during the afternoon.
'If I am not making a nuisance of myself,' he said as Longstreetfollowed him to the door, 'I should like to see what I can of youduring the next few days. And of Miss Helen,' he added with utterfrankness and clear meaning. 'I have business which will call me backEast before long.'
'Come as often as you can, my dear fellow,' invited Longstreet. Buthis eyes had wandered toward the mining site which should have beenhis, and his mind seemed to be less than half busied with Carr's words.Carr, turning in the saddle, narrowed his eyes upon the universityman's face and, thinking that he had caught his thought, said bluntly:
'It's an infernal shame. It's all yours by right, and----'
'Oh,' cried Longstreet grandly, 'I'm not worrying about a littlediggings like that! Let them have it! Next time I'll show them a realmine.'
'Well, I wish you luck,' rejoined Carr. But there was no greatconviction in his tone, since in his mind there was little expectationthat lightning was going to strike twice in the same place. However,the caution came to his lips involuntarily: 'If there is a next time,I'd be mighty careful whom I told about it. It will pay you to lookout for that Murray woman.'
Longstreet's face was puzzled and troubled.
'It does begin to look as though she gave me the--the double cross,doesn't it?' he said as though he were afraid he must believe the worstof Sanchia Murray despite his wish in the matter.
'It certainly does,' grunted Carr. 'She's absolutely no good.Everybody knows it. Fight shy of her. Well, so long.'
'So long,' repeated Longstreet absently.
Carr rode away. Longstreet's eyes, following the galloping horse, werestill puzzled. 'I'm learning a thing or two,' he told himself soberlyas he went back into the cabin. Many times he nodded his headthoughtfully. 'I've lived too long in another sort of world; now I amcoming to grips with real life, real men and women. There's a new setof rules to grasp. Well,' and he straightened his thin body and aflickering smile played over his lips, 'I can learn. As Barbee says ofstud poker: "You've got to set tight and keep your trap shut and youreye peeled."'
Helen slept soundly all morning. Longstreet dozed, studied the maps hehad made during the last week and pottered. At noon they lunchedtogether, neither having a great deal to say. Helen regarded herfather more than ever as a baby who ought to be scolded and lessoned;still, like any doting mother, she found excuses for him and toldherself that he had
been amply punished for his indiscretion. She,too, opined that he had learned a lesson. Consequently she coddled himto such an extent that Longstreet remarked the fact and began to wonderjust what Helen wanted now; no doubt she was going to ask something ofhim and was preparing the way after the approved and time-honouredcustom.
But the day wore on with never a favour asked. In the drowsy afternoonHelen coaxed her father into her room and dropped the shades andordered him to sleep, telling him that he looked like a ghost of hisformer rugged beauty. Then she sank down listlessly upon the doorstep,brooding, her eyes wandering through the green fields of Desert Valley.Her musings were disturbed by the clatter of shod hoofs across therugged plateau; she looked up quickly, her eyes brightening. Then shesaw that it was John Carr returning, and into her look there came anexpression much resembling that which had been so much to-day in herfather's--one of uncertainty.
Carr staked out his horse before he came to her. Then he sat down on abox near the doorstep and studied her gravely before he spoke. Helensmiled.
'You are thinking unpleasant things about some one,' she statedquickly. 'Has the world turned into a terribly serious place all of asudden?'
There was little levity in Carr's make-up at any time; just now hisspeech was as sober as his look.
'I am thinking about you and your father, to begin with,' he repliedgravely. 'I have been over yonder all day.' He swept out an impatientarm toward Dry Gulch. 'They call it Sanchia's Town. And it is a townalready. I saw Nate Kemble there; he's the big man of the QuigleyMines, and you see how long it has taken him to get on the spot. Yourfather evidently made no mistake in his location. There's gold there,all right!'
Helen waited expectantly for him to go on. For certainly the fact thather father had been able to find gold was no cause for Carr's frowningeyes.
'My blood has been boiling all day,' Carr blurted out angrily.'Longstreet should be a rich man to-day and he has gained nothing. Isaw Nate Kemble pay one man ten thousand dollars for his claim; Kemblewouldn't pay that if the thing were not worth a great deal more.Kemble doesn't make many mistakes. Your father stumbled on to theplace and then he couldn't hold it. When do you think he will makeanother discovery? And, if his lucky star should lead him arightagain, is he the man to cash in on his luck? Don't you see, Helen,that James Edward Longstreet in this man's land is a fish out of water?'
'I understand what you mean,' Helen nodded slowly. Again her lookwandered through the fields stretching out far below. 'And you areright. I didn't want papa to come in the first place; now, as you say,he is only wasting time.' She smiled a little tenderly. 'He is just adear old babe in the woods,' she concluded softly.
Carr's approval of her mounted swiftly to admiration. They loweredtheir voices and spoke at length of the professor and of what should bedone for him. They agreed perfectly that, while he was an unusuallyfine technical man and an able instructor in matters of geologicaltheorizing, he was not the man to wander with a prospector's pickacross these rugged lands.
'Even grant the extremely unlikely,' concluded Carr hastily as theyheard the subject of their discussion moving about in the cabin, 'andadmit that he may chance upon a second strike. What then? Why,Sanchia and Devine and Courtot and a crowd of hangers-on have theireyes on him. They'd oust him again with not the shadow of a doubt or asecond's hesitation.'
Helen nodded and they went in together.
Carr stayed on to supper. Longstreet looked rested from his nap,bright and eager and as usual interested in everything in the world.Carr had bought a new hat yesterday; Longstreet tried it on andapproved of it extravagantly. He asked what it cost and jingled hisfew coins, admitting ruefully that he'd have to wait until he uncoveredhis 'real mine.' Just the same, he proclaimed brightly, clothes didhelp make the man, and inside a year when he was decked out entirely tohis own liking and a tenderfoot saw him, there would be no suspectingthat Longstreet was not a Westerner born and bred. He put the hat awayand sat down with them at the table. As he mentioned in such amatter-of-fact way his intention of tarrying a year, Carr and Helenglanced at each other significantly. And Carr after his direct fashionopened his campaign.
'There are other things than gold mines, and you were not made for thiscountry,' he said. 'What would you say to going back East if I showedyou the chance there to clean up more money than you'll ever see outhere? I have been thinking about you, and I know the place whereyou'll fit in.'
This was all news to Helen, and her look showed her eager interest.Longstreet smiled and shook his head.
'That's kind of you,' he said warmly. 'But I like it out here.'
'But, papa,' cried Helen, 'surely you should hear Mr. Carr'sproposition! It is not merely kind of him; it is wonderful if he canhelp us that way, and it is wise.'
'No,' said Longstreet. 'Carr won't think me ungrateful. I told themin the East that there was nothing simpler than the fact that a manlike me, knowing what I know, can discover gold in vast quantities.First, it is universally conceded that the auriferous depositsremaining untouched are vastly in excess of those already found andworked. Second, all of my life I have made a profound study ofgeognosy and geotectonic geology. Now, it is not only the money; moneyI count as a rather questionable gift, anyway. But it is my ownreputation. What I have said I could do, I will do.' And though hiswords came with his engaging smile, he seemed as firmly set in hisdetermination as a rock hardened in cement.
Helen, who knew her father, sighed and turned from him to Carr. Thenher eyes wandered through the open door, across the flat lands and downto the distant hills of Desert Valley.
'I should not speak as I am going to speak,' Carr was saying, 'ifmatters were not exactly as they are. To begin with, I take it that Ihave been accepted as a friend. Hence you will forgive me if I appearto presume and will know that I have no love of interfering in anotherman's personal affairs. Then, I must say what I have to say now: in afew days I am leaving you. I've got to go to New York.'
'Oh,' said Helen. 'I am sorry.'
'You are kind to me,' he acknowledged gravely. 'And I am sorry to go.Unless you and your father will consent to come also. Now, I am goingto have my say--and, Mr. Longstreet, I hope you will forgive me if I amassuming a privilege which is not mine. I take it that you have nogreat amount of ready cash. Further, that your income has been that ofmost college men, who are all underpaid--say, three or four or fivethousand a year. I have talked with Nate Kemble about you. Hisconcern is a tremendously big affair with head offices in New York.Kemble is a friend of mine: I own stock in his company: he willacknowledge, quite as I am prepared to acknowledge, that there is aplace for an expert of your type in the company. And the place willpay you, from the jump, ten thousand dollars.'
Helen fairly gasped. Despite her father's talk of the extravagant sumshe meant to wrest from the bowels of the earth, she had never dreamedof so princely an income for them. Longstreet, however, merely shook asmiling head.
'You're a real friend, John,' he said. 'But here we stick. And, whenyou come down to dollars and cents, I'll eat your new hat for you if Ican't make ten times your ten thousand in the first year.'
Before such amazing confidence Carr stalled. But he did not give up;it wasn't his habit of thought to relinquish anything which he hadundertaken. Still for a little he was silent, studying his man. AgainHelen was staring out through the open door.
'Some one is coming,' she announced. Then, her tone quickening, 'It isMr. Howard; I knew he would be riding over before night. I know hishorse,' she explained hastily, flushing a trifle under Carr's eyeswhich told her that he was surprised that she could tell who it was atsuch a distance. 'It is the horse he rode the first time we ever sawhim. There is some one with him. It looks like----'
She did not say whom it looked like. Carr and Longstreet looked out.The second rider was a woman; her horse was not Sanchia Murray's whitemare, but none the less they all knew that with Alan Howard cameSanchia. Carr's
heavy brows gathered blackly. The flush died out ofHelen's face and her lips tightened. Longstreet sprang up and went tothe door.
'If it is Mrs. Murray,' he called back, something like triumph in hisexcited voice, 'and if she is coming here--why, then maybe there was amistake after all.'
'She is not coming here!' cried Helen hotly. 'Papa, I will not havethat woman in the house. After the way she has cheated you, fooledyou, lied to you----'
'Come, come, my dear,' chided Longstreet. 'No one must be judged andcondemned unheard. And remember that she is coming with Mr. Howard.'
Helen looked hopelessly at Carr. There were times when she utterlydespaired of her father. But she could find comfort in the thoughtthat if that Sanchia woman sought to perpetrate any more of hervillainy and deceit, she was going to stand at her father's sidethrough all of it. Meantime the two riders came on swiftly. As theydrew up at the door Helen saw that Howard looked worried and ill atease and that Sanchia Murray's eyes were red as though with copiousweeping. Whereas Helen sniffed audibly.
'The horrid cat,' she said.
Sanchia began pouring out a torrent of confused words which Howard'scurt speech interrupted. As he lifted his hat his eyes were for Helenalone: she flashed him a scornful look and turned away from him. Thenhe turned to Longstreet.
'Mr. Longstreet,' he said sharply, 'I want you to know my position inthis matter. As I was starting Mrs. Murray came to the ranch. I wasnaturally astonished when she said that she was on her way to see you.I had thought, from what has happened, that you would be the last manin the world whom she would care to meet. She said, however, that shemust speak with you and that she hoped she could do something to rightmatters. When she asked for a fresh horse I loaned her one. That,' heconcluded harshly, 'is all that I have to do with Sanchia Murray andall that I want to do with her. The rest is up to you.'
The spite in Sanchia's quick sidelong look was for Howard alone.
'Alan is rather hard on me, I think,' she said quite simply as sheturned her eyes upon the three at the cabin door. 'Especially,' andagain she gave him that look for him alone, 'after what has beenbetween us. But I must not think of that now. Oh, Mr. Longstreet, ifyou only knew how this thing has nearly killed me----'
She broke off, hiding her face in her hands, her body swaying in thesaddle as though surely she would fall. Longstreet looked concerned.
'Get down and come in,' he exclaimed. 'You are utterly exhausted.Helen, my dear, a cup of coffee, quick. This poor lady looks as thoughshe hadn't slept or rested or eaten since we saw her last.'
'How could I eat or rest or sleep?' cried Sanchia brokenly. 'After allthat has happened? Oh, I wish I were dead!'
Helen did not budge for the coffee. Her eyes were blazing. Sanchiaslid down from the saddle and came to the door. Longstreet hastened toher side and the two went in together. Helen, without looking towardHoward, followed, determined that she would hear whatever it was thatSanchia Murray had to say.
'Come in, Howard,' Longstreet remembered to say. 'We're having supper.Both you and Mrs. Murray will eat with us.'
Sanchia bathed her eyes and they all sat down. When Howard lookedtoward Helen she ignored him. Outside Carr had demanded, 'What inhell's name made you bring that woman here?' and Alan had rejoined, 'Icouldn't stop her coming, could I?' And now the two had nothing to sayto each other. Longstreet, nervous and impatient for whateverexplanations were coming, fidgeted constantly until Sanchia beganspeaking.
'When I learned what had happened,' she said, 'I thought at first thatI could not live to endure it. I could have shrieked; I could havekilled myself. To think that I had been the cause of it all. Oh, itwas hideous! But then I knew that I must live and that I must seeksomehow to make reparation. All of my life, as long as I live, I shallhope and try and work to undo what I have done.'
She was watching them all through her handkerchief, which she was usingto dab her eyes; of Longstreet she never for an instant lost sight.She saw the eagerness in his eyes and knew that it was an eagerness tobelieve in her. She saw Helen's anger and contempt; she saw Carr'sblack looks; she saw, too, how Howard kept his eyes always on Helen'sface, and she read what was so easy to read in them. It was herbusiness, her chief affair in life just now, to keep her two eyes wideopen; hence she saw, too, the look which Helen had flashed at thecattleman. And while she observed all of this she was speakingrapidly, almost incoherently, as though her one concern lay in thetragic error she had made. Had she been less than a very clever womanwho had long lived, and lived well, by her wits, she must have foundthe situation too much for her. But no one of her hearers, exceptingpossibly the one chiefly interested, failed to do Sanchia Murrayjustice for her cleverness. As it was, she did not fear the outcomefrom the outset.
She told how she had been so overjoyed at Longstreet's news; how, forthat dear child Helen's sake, she had rejoiced; how she had for alittle felt less lonely in sharing a secret meant for a wonderfulbirthday surprise; how she had yearned to help in this glowing hour ofhappiness. She had tried to help Mr. Longstreet with Mr. Harkness atthe court-house; she had learned that he was out of town; she had beentold that his assistant was at the Montezuma House. In spite of herabhorrence of going to such a place she had gone, carried away by thehigh tide of excitement. And there she had been tricked intointroducing Mr. Longstreet to no less a terrible creature than MonteDevine. She hastened to add that she told Mr. Longstreet that she didnot know this man; he would bear her out in this; she too had beentricked. But she would never, never forgive herself.
'Nor,' said Helen's voice coldly, 'will I ever forgive you. Nor am Ithe fool to believe all these tales. Maybe you can make a fool of myfather, but----'
'Helen, Helen,' expostulated Longstreet sternly, 'you are being hasty.At times like this one should seek to be kind and just.'
Again Helen's sniff was audible and eloquent.
'Do you mean,' she demanded, 'that you believe all of this nonsense?'
'I mean, my dear, that one should be deliberate. Mrs. Murray has madean explanation, she is plainly sick with grief at what has occurred.She has ridden straight to us. What more could one do? When you areolder, my dear, and have seen more of life you will know that the worldsometimes makes terrible mistakes.'
'You are so great-hearted!' sobbed Sanchia. 'So wonderful! There isnot another man in the world who would be even tolerant at a time likethis. And to think that it is you--you whom I have hurt.' Her sobsovercame her.
Helen flung herself angrily to her feet.
'Papa,' she cried, 'can't you see, can't you understand that this womanis determined to make a fool of you again? Hasn't she done it oncealready? Oh, are you going to be just a little baby in her hands?'
Sanchia lowered her handkerchief for a swift glance at Helen and thenat the other faces in the room. The sternness on Howard's and Carr'sfaces did not greatly concern her, for she saw written acrossLongstreet's countenance just about what she had counted on. AndHelen's words had simply succeeded in drawing his indignation towardhis daughter. Hence, wisely, Sanchia was content to be silent for aspell. Matters seemed to be going well enough left alone.
Helen had meant to run out of doors, to close her ears to thismaddening discussion. She felt that it was either that or deliberatelyslap Sanchia Murray's face. Now, however, she sat down again, decidingwith a degree of acumen that Sanchia would prefer nothing to a_tete-a-tete_ with Longstreet.
'After all,' said Helen more quietly and with a look which was hard asit flashed across Sanchia's face to Howard's and then on, 'threshingall this over is valueless. Forgive her, father,' she went oncontemptuously, 'if either of you will feel better for it, and don'tdetain her. We are going back East in a few days, anyway.'
Howard stared at her wonderingly as Carr nodded his approval of thespeech. But Longstreet spoke with considerable emphasis.
'Aren't you rather premature in your announcement, my dear? I am notgoing back East at all.'
/> There might have been no discussion of the matter had he ended there.But seeing the various expressions called by his words to the facesabout the table, he added the challenge:
'Why should I go? Haven't I already demonstrated that I know what I amdoing? Isn't this the place for me?'
Helen answered him first and energetically. He should go, she criedhotly, because he had demonstrated nothing at all save that he was alamb in a den of wolves. He was a university man and not a mountaineeror desert Indian; he knew books and he did not know men; it was hisduty to himself and to his daughter to return home. The girl's colourdeepened and grew hot with her rapid speech, and Sanchia, sitting back,watching and listening, lost never a word. Before Longstreet couldshape a reply John Carr added his voice to Helen's plea. He said allthat he had said once before to-day; he elaborated his argument, whichto him appeared unanswerable. When he had done, always speakingquietly, he turned to Howard.
'Don't you think I am right, Al?' he asked.
'No!' replied Howard emphatically. 'I don't. Mr. Longstreet does knowhis business. He has located one mine in this short time. It was notchance; it was science. There is more gold left in these hills. Givehim time and a free swing, and he'll find it.'
Carr appeared amazed.
'I can't imagine what makes you talk like that, Al,' he said shortly.'It's rather a serious thing with the Longstreets which way they movenow. You are deliberately encouraging him to buck a game which heought to leave to another type of man.'
'Deliberately is the right word,' said Howard. 'And I can't quiteunderstand what makes you seek to discourage him and pack him off tothe East again.'
Carr was silent. Sanchia's eyes, very bright, grew brighter with akeen look of understanding. Very innocently she spoke.
'Are you thinking of going East, too, Mr. Carr?' she asked.
'Yes,' snapped Carr. 'I am. What of it?'
'Oh, nothing,' said Sanchia. But she laughed. Then as Longstreet wasopening his mouth to make his own statement, she cut in, turning tohim, speaking directly to him, in some subtle way giving the impressionthat she was quite oblivious of anyone but of him and herself.
'You mustn't go,' she said softly. She studied his face and then put alight hand on his arm. Helen stiffened. 'How shall I say all that Ifeel here?' She gave an effective gesture as she pressed the otherhand against her own bosom. 'You have come into a land of nothing butignorance and into it you have brought the brain of a scholar. Yousaid, "I will find gold," and they laughed at you--and you found it!It was not chance; Alan was right. It was the act of a man who knew.This land has many kinds of men, Mr. Longstreet. It has no other manlike you. It needs you. You must stay!'
'Oh,' said Helen. It was scarcely more than a gasp, and yet it bespokeprofound disgust. The woman was insufferable. Here, upon the top ofher treachery, was most palpable flattery. Surely her father would notfail to see now the woman's true character; surely he must baulk atsuch talk as this. But he was beaming again as though the clouds of astorm had passed and the sunlight were streaming upon him; he rubbedhis hands together and spoke cheerfully.
'Sanchia is right; Alan is right. These two understand me. I shallshow to the world that they have not misjudged me. I know my ownlimitations. I am no superman. I have made blunders in my time. ButI do know my own work, and I am the only man here who does! In a waySanchia is right when she says that this country needs me. It does.And I need it. We are going to stay, my dear.'
Sanchia flashed Helen a look of triumph; her eyes, passing on toHoward, held briefly a sparkle of malice.
'Alan and I are very grateful to have your approval,' she said sweetly.'Aren't we, Alan?' and again her look was for Helen and was triumphant.
Helen pushed her plate away and for a second time rose abruptly.
'I'll choke if I stay in here,' she said. And, with breast heaving,she went to the door and out into the fading afternoon. Sanchia'sglance followed her and then returned placidly to the men.
'The dear child is high-strung, and Heaven knows she has been throughenough to upset anyone,' she said condoningly. Then, 'Mr. Carr andyou, Alan, don't seem to be hungry any more. I would like a word withMr. Longstreet, and if you two went out to Helen perhaps you mightsoothe her. Remember she is only a child after all.'
Glad of the excuse to be gone, both men rose. As they went out theysaw how Sanchia was already leaning toward Longstreet, how her hand hadagain found its way to his arm. Then they lost sight of her and sawHelen standing upon the cliff edge looking off to the lowlands of thesouth. In silence they joined her.
'I don't know whether I love this country or hate it most,' Helen saidwithout withdrawing her troubled eyes from the expanse of DesertValley. The sun was down, the distances were veiled in tender shades,pale greens of the meadowlands, dusky greys of the hills. 'If it wereonly all like that; if there were only the glorious valley and thepeace of it instead of this hideous life up here!'
It was in Alan Howard's heart to cry out to her, 'Come down into thepeace of it; it is all mine. Come down to live there with me.' It mayhave been in John Carr's heart to whisper: 'It is mine until the lastcent is paid on it; if you love it so, there may still be the way toget it back for you.' But neither man spoke his thought. The threestood close together, the girl with troubled eyes standing between thetwo friends, and all of their eyes searched into the mystery of thecoming dusk.
From the cabin came the sound of a laugh. It was Longstreet's, and itwas like a pleased child's.