_CHAPTER ELEVEN_
A Second thought made him lean a little, listening closely, and then hediscovered that after this terrific trial Abra was breathing deep andfree. Connor sat straight again and smiled. They must be close to thelake he had seen from the mountain, for among the trees to his left wasa faint gleam of water. A moment later this glimmer went out, and thehoofbeats of Abra were muffled on turf. They had left the road andheaded for a scattering of lights. Joseph had drawn the mare back to ahand-gallop, and Abra followed the example; at this rocking gait theyswept through the grove between two long, low buildings, alwaysclimbing, and came suddenly upon a larger house. On three sides Connorlooked down upon water; the building was behind him. Not a light showedin it, but he made out the low, single story, the sense of weight, andcrude arches of the Mission style. Through an opening in the center ofthe facade he looked into darkness which he knew must be the patio.
Following the example of Joseph, he dismounted, and while the big man,with his waddling, difficult walk, disappeared into the court, Connorstepped back and looked over Abra. Starlight was enough to see him by,for he glimmered with running sweat even in the semidarkness, but it wasplain from his high head and inquisitive muzzle that he was neitherwinded nor down-hearted. He followed Connor like a dog when the gamblerwent in turn to the mare. She turned about nervously to watch thenewcomer. Not until Abra had touched noses with her and perhaps spokento her the dumb horse-talk would she allow Connor to come close, andeven then he could not see her as clearly as the stallion. By runninghis finger-tips over her he discovered the reason--only on the flanksand across the breast was she wet with perspiration, and barely moist onthe thighs and belly. The race had winded her no more than a six-furlongcanter.
He was still marveling at this discovery when Joseph appeared under thearch carrying a lantern and beckoned him in, leading the way to a largepatio, surrounded by a continuous arcade. In the center a fountain wasalternately silver and shadow in the swinging lantern light. The floorof the patio was close-shaven turf.
Joseph hung the lantern on the inside of one of the arches and turned toConnor, apparently to invite him to take one of the chairs under thearcade. Instead, he raised his hand to impose silence. Connor heard,from some distance, a harsh sound of breathing of inconceivablestrength. For though it was plainly not close to them, he could markeach intake and expulsion of breath. And the noise created for him thepicture of a monster.
"Let us go to the master," said Joseph, and turned straight across thepatio in the direction of that sonorous breathing.
Connor followed, by no means at ease. From the withered old men to hugeJoseph had been a long step. How far would be the reach between Josephhimself and the omnipotent master?
He passed in the track of Joseph toward the rear of the patio. Presentlythe big man halted, removed his hat, and faced a door beneath thearcade. It was only a momentary interruption. He went on again at once,replacing his hat, but the thrill of apprehension was still tingling inthe blood of the gambler. Now they went under the arcade, through anopen door, and issued in the rear of the house, Connor's imaginary"monster" dissolved.
For they stood in front of a blacksmith shop, the side toward them beingentirely open so that Connor could see the whole of the interior. Twosooty lanterns hung from the rafters, the light tangling among wreathsof smoke above and showing below a man whose back was turned toward themas he worked a great snoring bellows with one hand.
That bellows was the source of the mysterious breathing. Connorchuckled; all mysteries dissolved as this had done the moment oneconfronted them. He left off chuckling to admire the ease with which theblacksmith handled the bellows. A massive angle of iron was buried inthe forge, the white flames spurting around it as the bellows blew,casting the smith into high relief at every pulse of the fire. Sometimesit ran on the great muscles of the arm that kept the bellows in play;sometimes it ran a dazzling outline around his entire body, showing theleather apron and the black hair which flooded down about his shoulders.
"Who--" began Connor.
"Hush," cautioned Joseph in a whisper. "David speaks when hechooses--not sooner."
Here the smith laid hold on the iron with long pincers, and, raising itfrom the coals, at once the shop burst with white light as David placedthe iron on the anvil and caught up a short-handled sledge. He whirledit and brought it down with a clangor. The sparks spurted into thenight, dropping to the ground and turning red at the very feet ofConnor. Slowly David turned the iron, the steady shower of blows bendingit, changing it, molding it under the eye of the gambler. This was thatclangor which had floated through the clear mountain air to him when hefirst gazed down on the valley; this was the bell-like murmur which hadwashed down to him through the gates of the valley.
At least it was easy to understand why the servants feared him. A fullfourteen pounds was in the head of that sledge, Connor guessed, yetDavid whirled it with a light and deft precision. Only the shuddering ofthe anvil told the weight of those blows. Meantime, with every leap ofthe spark-showers the gambler studied the face of the master. They werefeatures of strength rather than beauty from the frowning forehead tothe craggy jaw. A sort of fierce happiness lived in that face now, thethought of the craftsman and the joy of the laborer in his strength.
As the white heat passed from the iron and it no longer flowed into ashape so readily under the hammer of the smith, a change came in him.Connor knew nothing of ironcraft, but he guessed shrewdly that anotherman would have softened the metal with fire again at this point.Instead, David chose to soften it with strength. The steady patter ofblows increased to a thundering rain as the iron turned a dark anddarker red.
The rhythm of the worker grew swifter, did not break, and Connor watchedwith a keen eye of appreciation. Just as a great thoroughbred makes itssupreme effort in the stretch by a lengthening and slight quickening ofstride, but never a dropping into the choppy pace of unskilled labor atspeed, so the man at the anvil was now rocking steadily back and forthfrom heel to toe, the knees unflexing a little as he struck andstiffening as he swung up the hammer. The greater effort was told onlyby the greater ring of the hammer face on the hardening iron--by thatand by the shudder of the arm of the smith as the fourteen pounds wentclanging home to the stroke.
And now the iron was quite dark--the smith stood with the ponderoussledge poised above his head and turned the bar swiftly, with study, tosee that the angle was exactly what he wished. The hammer did notdescend again on the iron; the smith was content, and plunging the bigangle iron into the tempering tub, his burly shoulders were obscured fora moment by a rising cloud of steam.
He stepped out of this and came directly to them. Now the lantern wasbehind him, he was silhouetted in black, a mighty figure. He was pantingfrom his labor, and the heavy sound of his breathing disturbed thegambler. He had expected to find a wise and simple old man in David.Instead, he was face to face with a Hercules.
His attention was directed entirely to Joseph.
"I come from my work unclean," he said. "Joseph, take the strangerwithin and wait."
Joseph led back into the patio to a plain wooden table beside whichConnor, at the gesture of invitation, sat down. Here Joseph left himhurriedly, and the gambler looked about. The arcade was lightened by aflagging of crystalline white stone, and the ceiling was inlaid with thesame material. But the arches and the wall of the building were ofcommon dobe, massive, but roughly built.
Beyond the fountain nodded like a ghost in the patio, and now and then,when the lantern was swayed by the wind, the pool glinted and was blackagain. The silence was beginning to make him feel more than ever like anunwelcome guest when another old Negro came, and Connor noted withgrowing wonder the third of these ancients. Each of them must have beenin youth a fine specimen of manhood. Even in white-headed age theyretained some of that noble countenance which remains to those who haveonce been strong. This fellow bore a tray upon his arm, and in the freehand carried a large yellow cloth of a coarse weave.
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He placed on the table a wooden trencher with a great loaf of whitebread, a cone of clear honey, and an earthen pitcher of milk. Next heput a wooden bowl on a chair beside Connor, and when the latterobediently extended his hands, the old man poured warm water over themand dried them with a napkin.
There was a ceremony about this that fitted perfectly with thesurroundings, and Connor became thoughtful. He was to tempt the masterwith the wealth of the world, but what could he give the man to replacehis Homeric comfort?
In the midst of these reflections soft steps approached him, and he sawthe brown-faced David coming in a shapeless blouse and trousers of roughcloth, with moccasins on his feet. Rising to meet his host, he wassurprised to find that David had no advantage in height and a small onein breadth of shoulder; in the blacksmith shop he had seemed a giant.The brown man stopped beside the table. He seemed to be around thirty,but because of the unwrinkled forehead Connor decided that he wasprobably five years older.
"I am David," he said, without offering his hand.
"I," said the gambler, "am Benjamin."
There was a flash that might have been either pleasure or suspicion inthe face of David.
"Joseph has told me what has passed between you," he said.
"I hope he's broken no law by letting me come in."
"My will is the law; in disregarding me he has broken a law."
He made a sign above his shoulder that brought Joseph hurrying out ofthe gloom, his keen little eyes fastened upon the face of the masterwith intolerable anxiety. There was another sign from David, and Joseph,without a glance at Connor, snatched the ivory head out of his pocket,thrust it upon the table, and stood back, watching the brown man withfascination.
"You see," went on David, "that he returns to you the price which youpaid him. Therefore you have no longer a right to remain in the Gardenof Eden."
Connor flushed. "If this were a price," he answered, clinging as closelyas he could to language as simple and direct as that of David, "it couldbe returned to me. But it is not a price. It is a gift, and gifts cannotbe returned."
He held out the ape-head, and when Joseph could see nothing save theface of David, he pushed the trinket back toward the huge man.
"Then," said the brown man, "the fault which was small before is nowgrown large."
He looked calmly upon Joseph, and the giant quailed. By the table hung agong on which the master tapped; one of the ancient servants appearedinstantly.
"Go to my room," said David, "and bring me the largest nugget from thechest."
The old man disappeared, and while they waited for his return the littlebright eyes of Joseph went to and fro on the face of the master; butDavid was staring into the darkness of the patio. The servant brought anugget of gold, as large as the doubled fist of a child, and the masterrolled it across the table to Connor.
A tenseness about his mouth told the gambler that much was staked onthis acceptance. He turned the nugget in his hand, noting thediscoloration of the ore from which it had been taken.
"It is a fine specimen," he said.
"You will see," said David, "both its size and weight."
And Connor knew; it was an exchange for the ivory head. He laid thenugget carelessly back upon the table, thankful that the gift had beenoffered with such suspicious bluntness.
"It is a fine specimen," he repeated, "but I am not collecting."
There was a heavy cloud on the face of David as he took up the nuggetand passed it into the hand of the waiting servant; but his glance wasfor Joseph, not Connor.
Joseph burst into speech for the first time, and the words tumbled out.
"I do not want it. I shall not keep it. See, David; I give it up tohim!" He made a gesture with both hands as though he would push away theape-head forever.
The master looked earnestly at Connor.
"You hear?"
The latter shrugged his shoulders, saying: "I've never taken back agift, and I can't begin now."
Connor's heart was beating rapidly, from the excitement of the strangeinterview and the sense of his narrow escape from banishment. Because hehad made the gift to Joseph he had an inalienable right, it seemed, toexpect some return from Joseph's master--even permission to stay in thevalley, if he insisted.
There was another of those uncomfortable pauses, with the master lookingsternly into the night.
"Zacharias," he said.
The servant stepped beside him.
"Bring the whip--and the cup."
The eyes of Zacharias rolled once toward Joseph and then he was gone,running; he returned almost instantly with a seven foot blacksnake,oiled until it glistened. He put it in the hand of David, but only whenJoseph stepped back, shuddering, and then turned and kneeled beforeDavid, the significance of that whip came home to Connor, sickening him.The whites of Joseph's eyes rolled at him and Connor stepped betweenJoseph and the whip.
"Do you mean this?" he gasped. "Do you mean to say that you are going toflog that poor fellow because he took a gift from me?"
"From you it was a gift," answered the master, perfectly calm, "but tohim it was a price. And to me it is a great trouble."
"God!" murmured Connor.
"Do you call on him?" asked the brown man severely. "He is only here inso far as I am the agent of his justice. Yet I trust it is not more Hiswill than it is the will of David. Also, the heart of Joseph is stubbornand must be humbled. Tears are the sign of contrition, and the whipshall not cease to fall until Joseph weeps."
His glance pushed Connor back; the gambler saw the lash whirled, and heturned his back sharply before it fell. Even so, the impact of the lashon flesh cut into Connor, for he had only to take back the gift to endthe flogging. He set his teeth. Could he give up his only hold on Davidand the Eden Grays? By the whizzing of the lash he knew that it was laidon with the full strength of that muscular arm. Now a horrible murmurfrom the throat of Joseph forced him to turn against his will.
The face of David was filled, not with anger, but with cruel disdain;under his flying lash the welts leaped up on the back of Joseph, but he,with his eyes shut and his head strained far back, endured. Only throughhis teeth, each time he drew breath, came that stifled moan, and heshuddered at each impact of the whip. Now his eyes opened, and throughthe mist of pain a brutal hatred glimmered at Connor. That flare of rageseemed to sap the last of his strength, for now his face convulsed,tears flooded down, and his head dropped. Instantly the hand of Davidpaused.
Something had snapped in Connor at the same time that the head of Josephfell, and while he wiped the wet from his face he only vaguely sawJoseph hurry down the corridor, with Zacharias carrying the whip behind.
But the master? There was neither cruelty nor anger in his face as heturned to the table and filled with milk the wooden cup which Zachariashad brought.
"This is my prayer," he said quietly, "that in the justice of Davidthere may never be the poison of David's wrath." 79
He drained the cup, broke a morsel of bread from the loaf and ate it.Next he filled the second cup and handed it to the gambler.
"Drink."
Automatically Connor obeyed.
"Eat."
In turn he tasted the bread.
"And now," said the master, in the deep, calm voice, "you have drunkwith David in his house, and he has broken bread with you. Hereafter maythere be peace and good will between us. You have given a free gift toone of my people, and he who gives clothes to David's people keeps Davidfrom the shame of nakedness; and he who puts bread in the mouths ofDavid's servants feeds David himself. Stay with me, therefore, Benjamin,until you find in the Garden the thing you desire, then take it and goyour way. But until that time, what is David's is Benjamin's; your willbe my will, and my way be your way."
He paused.
"And now, Benjamin, you are weary?"
"Very tired."
"Follow me."
It seemed well to Connor to remove himself from the eye of the master assoon as possible. Not that
the host showed signs of anger, but just asone looks at a clear sky and forebodes hard weather because of mistyhorizons, so the gambler guessed the frown behind David's eyes. He wasglad to turn into the door which was opened for him. But even though heguessed the danger, Connor could not refrain from tempting Providencewith a speech of double meaning.
"You are very kind," he said. "Good night, David."
"May God keep you until the morning, Benjamin."