CHAPTER IX
Stevens, dreaming of twenty horses plunging to death among the rocks in theriver, slept uneasily. He awoke before it was dawn, but when he draggedhimself from his tepee, moving quietly not to awaken his boy, he found JohnAldous on his knees before a small fire, slicing thin rashers of bacon intoa frying-pan. The weight of his loss was in the tired packer's eyes andface and the listless droop of his shoulders. John Aldous, with three hoursbetween the blankets to his credit, was as cheery as the crackling fireitself. He had wanted to whistle for the last half-hour. Seeing Stevens, hebegan now.
"I wasn't going to rouse you until breakfast was ready," he interruptedhimself to say. "I heard you groaning, Stevens. I know you had a bad night.And the kid, too. He couldn't sleep. But I made up my mind you'd have toget up early. I've got a lot of business on to-day, and we'll have to rouseCurly Roper out of bed to buy his pack outfit. Find the coffee, will you? Icouldn't."
For a moment Stevens stood over him.
"See here, Aldous, you didn't mean what you said last night, did you? Youdidn't mean--that?"
"Confound it, yes! Can't you understand plain English, Stevens? Don't youbelieve a man when he's a gentleman? Buy that outfit! Why, I'd buy twentyoutfits to-day, I'm--I'm feeling so fine, Stevens!"
For the first time in forty-eight hours Stevens smiled.
"I was wondering if I hadn't been dreaming," he said. "Once, a long timeago, I guess I felt just like you do now."
With which cryptic remark he went for the coffee.
Aldous looked up in time to see the boy stagger sleepily out of the tepee.There was something pathetic about the motherlessness of the picture, andhe understood a little of what Stevens had meant.
An hour later, with breakfast over, they started for Curly's. Curly waspulling on his boots when they arrived, while his wife was frying theinevitable bacon in the kitchen.
"I hear you have some horses for sale, Curly," said Aldous.
"Hi 'ave."
"How many?"
"Twenty-nine, 'r twenty-eight--mebby twenty-seven."
"How much?"
Curly looked up from the task of pulling on his second boot.
"H'are you buying 'orses or looking for hinformation?" he asked.
"I'm buying, and I'm in a hurry. How much do you want a head?"
"Sixty, 'r six----"
"I'll give you sixty dollars apiece for twenty-eight head, and that's justten dollars apiece more than they're worth," broke in Aldous, pulling acheck-book and a fountain pen from his pocket. "Is it a go?"
A little stupefied by the suddenness of it all, Curly opened his mouth andstared.
"Is it a go?" repeated Aldous. "Including blankets, saddles, pack-saddles,ropes, and canvases?"
Curly nodded, looking from Aldous to Stevens to see if he could detectanything that looked like a joke.
"Hit's a go," he said.
Aldous handed him a check for sixteen hundred and eighty dollars.
"Make out the bill of sale to Stevens," he said. "I'm paying for them, butthey're Stevens' horses. And, look here, Curly, I'm buying them only withyour agreement that you'll say nothing about who paid for them. Will youagree to that?"
Curly was joyously looking at the check.
"Gyve me a Bible," he demanded. "Hi'll swear Stevens p'id for them! I giveyou the word of a Hinglish gentleman!"
Without another word Aldous opened the cabin door and was gone, leavingStevens quite as much amazed as the little Englishman whom everybody calledCurly, because he had no hair.
Aldous went at once to the station, and for the first time inquired intothe condition that was holding back the Tete Jaune train. He found that aslide had given way, burying a section of track under gravel and rock. Ahundred men were at work clearing it away, and it was probable they wouldfinish by noon. A gang boss, who had come back with telegraphic reports,said that half a dozen men had carried Quade's hand-car over theobstruction about midnight.
It was seven o'clock when Aldous left for the Miette bottom. He believedthat Joanne would be up. At this season of the year the first glow of dayusually found the Ottos at breakfast, and for half an hour the sun had beenshining on the top of Pyramid Mountain. He was eager to tell her what hadpassed between him and Keller. He laughed softly when he confessed tohimself how madly he wanted to see her.
He always liked to come up to the Otto home very early of a morning, or inthe dusk of evening. Very frequently he was filled with a desire to standoutside the red-and-white striped walls of the tent-house and listenunseen. Inside there was always cheer: at night the crackle of fire and theglow of light, the happy laughter of the gentle-hearted Scotchwoman, andthe affectionate banter of her "big mountain man," who looked more like abrigand than the luckiest and most contented husband in the mountains--theluckiest, quite surely, with the one exception of his brother Clossen, whohad, by some occult strategy or other, induced a sweet-faced andaristocratic little woman to look upon his own honest physiognomy as thehandsomest and finest in the world. This morning Aldous followed a narrowpath that brought him behind the tent-house. He heard no voices. A fewsteps more and he emerged upon a scene that stopped him and set his heartthumping.
Less than a dozen paces away stood Mrs. Otto and Joanne, their backs towardhim. They were gazing silently and anxiously in the direction of the thick,low bush across the clearing, through which led the trail to his cabin. Hedid not look toward the bush. His eyes were upon Joanne. Her slender figurewas full in the golden radiance of the morning sun, and Aldous felt himselfunder the spell of a joyous wonder as he looked at her. For the first timehe saw her hair as he had pictured it--as he had given it to that other_Joanne_ in the book he had called "Fair Play." She had been brushing it inthe sun when he came, but now she stood poised in that tense and waitingattitude--silent--gazing in the direction of the bush, with that marvellousmantle sweeping about her in a shimmering silken flood. He would not havemoved, nor would he have spoken, until Joanne herself broke the spell. Sheturned, and saw him. With a little cry of surprise she flung back her hair.He could not fail to see the swift look of relief and gladness that hadcome into her eyes. In another instant her face was flushing crimson.
"I beg your pardon for coming up like an eavesdropper," he apologized. "Ithought you would just about be at breakfast, Mrs. Otto."
The Scotchwoman heaved a tremendous sigh of relief.
"Goodness gracious, but I'm glad to see you!" she exclaimed thankfully."Jack and Bruce have just gone out to see if they could find your deadbody!"
"We thought perhaps something might have happened," said Joanne, who hadmoved nearer the door. "You will excuse me, won't you, while I finish myhair?"
Without waiting for him to answer, she ran into the tent. No sooner had shedisappeared than the good-natured smile left Mrs. Otto's face. There was anote of alarm in her low voice as she whispered:
"Jack and Bruce went to the barn last night, and she slept with me. Shetried to be quiet, but I know she didn't sleep much. And she cried. Icouldn't hear her, but the pillow was wet. Once my hand touched her cheek,and it was wet. I didn't ask any questions. This morning, at breakfast, shetold us everything that happened, all about Quade--and your trouble. Shetold us about Quade looking in at the window, and she was so nervousthinking something might have happened to you last night that the poor dearcouldn't even drink her coffee until Jack and Bruce went out to hunt foryou. But I don't think that was why she cried!"
"I wish it had been," said Aldous. "It makes me happy to think she wasworried about--me."
"Good Lord!" gasped Mrs. Otto.
He looked for a moment into the slow-growing amazement and understanding inher kind eyes.
"You will keep my little secret, won't you, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "Probablyyou'll think it's queer. I've only known her a day. But I feel--like that.Somehow I feel that in telling this to you I am confiding in a mother, or asister. I want you to understand why I'm going on to Tete Jaune with her.That is why she was crying--because of
the dread of something up there. I'mgoing with her. She shouldn't go alone."
Voices interrupted them, and they turned to find that Jack and Bruce Ottohad come out of the bush and were quite near. Aldous was sorry that Joannehad spoken of his trouble with Quade. He did not want to discuss thesituation, or waste time in listening to further advice. He was anxious tobe alone again with Joanne, and tell her what he had learned from PeterKeller. For half an hour he repressed his uneasiness. The brothers thenwent on to their corral. A few minutes later Joanne was once more at hisside, and they were walking slowly over the trail that led to the cabin onthe river.
He could see that the night had made a change in her. There were circlesunder her eyes which were not there yesterday. When she looked at him theirvelvety blue depths betrayed something which he knew she was strugglingdesperately to keep from him. It was not altogether fear. It was more abetrayal of pain--a torment of the soul and not of the body. He noticedthat in spite of the vivid colouring of her lips her face was strangelypale. The beautiful flush that had come into it when she first saw him wasgone.
Then he began to tell her of his visit to Peter Keller. His own heart wasbeating violently when he came to speak of the grave and the slab over itthat bore the name of FitzHugh. He had expected that what he had discoveredfrom Keller would create some sort of a sensation. He had even come up tothe final fact gradually, so that it would not appear bald and shocking.Joanne's attitude stunned him. She looked straight ahead. When she turnedto him he did not see in her eyes what he had expected to see. They werequiet, emotionless, except for that shadow of inward torture which did notleave them.
"Then to-morrow we can go to the grave?" she asked simply.
Her voice, too, was quiet and without emotion.
He nodded. "We can leave at sunrise," he said. "I have my own horses atTete Jaune and there need be no delay. We were to start into the North fromthere."
"You mean on the adventure you were telling me about?"
She had looked at him quickly.
"Yes. Old Donald, my partner, has been waiting for me a week. That's why Iwas so deuced anxious to rush the book to an end. I'm behind Donald'sschedule, and he's growing nervous. It's rather an unusual enterprisethat's taking us north this time, and Donald can't understand why I shouldhang back to write the tail end of a book. He has lived sixty years in themountains. His full name is Donald MacDonald. Sometimes, back in my ownmind, I've called him History. He seems like that--as though he'd lived forages in these mountains instead of sixty years. If I could only write whathe has lived--even what one might imagine that he has lived! But I cannot.I have tried three times, and have failed. I think of him as The LastSpirit--a strange wandering ghost of the mighty ranges. His kind passedaway a hundred years ago. You will understand--when you see him."
She put her hand on his arm and let it rest there lightly as they walked.Into her eyes had returned some of the old warm glow of yesterday.
"I want you to tell me about this adventure," she entreated softly. "Iunderstand--about the other. You have been good--oh! so good to me! And Ishould tell you things; you are expecting me to explain. It is only fairand honest that I should. I know what is in your mind, and I only want youto wait--until to-morrow. Will you? And I will tell you then, when we havefound the grave."
Involuntarily his hand sought Joanne's. For a single moment he felt thewarm, sweet thrill of it in his own as he pressed it more closely to hisarm. Then he freed it, looking straight ahead. A soft flush grew inJoanne's cheeks.
"Do you care a great deal for riches?" he asked. "Does the golden pot atthe end of the rainbow hold out a lure for you?" He did not realize thestrangeness of his question until their eyes met. "Because if you don't,"he added, smiling, "this adventure of ours isn't going to look veryexciting to you."
She laughed softly.
"No, I don't care for riches," she replied. "I am quite sure that just asgreat education proves to one how little one knows, so great wealth bringsone face to face with the truth of how little one can enjoy. My father usedto say that the golden treasure at the end of the rainbow in every humanlife was happiness, and that is something which you cannot buy. So whycrave riches, then? But please don't let my foolish ideas disappoint you.I'll promise to be properly excited."
She saw his face suddenly aflame with enthusiasm.
"By George, but you're a--a brick, Joanne!" he exclaimed. "You are! AndI--I----" He was fumbling in his breast pocket. He brought out his walletand extracted from it the bit of paper Stevens had given him. "You droppedthat, and Stevens found it," he explained, giving it to her. "I thoughtthose figures might represent your fortune--or your income. Don't mindtelling you I went over 'em carefully. There's a mistake in the thirdcolumn. Five and four don't make seven. They make nine. In the final, whenyou come to the multiplication part of it, that correction will make youjust thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars richer."
"Thanks," said Joanne, lowering her eyes, and beginning to tear the paperinto small pieces. "And will it disappoint you, Mr. John Aldous, if I tellyou that all these figures stand for riches which some one else possesses?And won't you let me remind you that we're getting a long way from what Iwant to know--about your trip into the North?"
"That's just it: we're hot on the trail," chuckled Aldous, deliberatelyplacing her hand on his arm again. "You don't care for riches. Neither doI. I'm delighted to know we're going tandem in that respect. I've never hadany fun with money. It's the money that's had fun with me. I've no use foryachts and diamonds and I'd rather travel afoot with a gun over my shoulderthan in a private car. Half the time I'm doing my own cooking, and Ihaven't worn a white shirt in a year. My publishers persist in shoving moremoney my way than I know what to do with.
"You see, I pay only ten cents a plug for my smoking tobacco, and otherthings accordingly. Somebody has said something about the good Lord sittingup in Heaven and laughing at the jokes He plays on men. Well, I'm sittingback and laughing now and then at the tussle between men and money over allcreation. There's a whole lot of humour in the way men and women fight anddie for money, if you only take time to stand out on the side and look on.There's nothing big or dramatic about it. I may be a heathen, but to mymind the funniest of all things is to see the world wringing its neck for adollar. And Donald--old History--needs even less money than I. So that putsthe big element of humour in this expedition of ours. We don't want money,particularly. Donald wouldn't wear more than four pairs of boots a year ifhe was a billionaire. And yet----"
He turned to Joanne. The pressure of her hand was warmer on his arm. Herbeautiful eyes were glowing, and her red lips parted as she waitedbreathlessly for him to go on.
"And yet, we're going to a place where you can scoop gold up with ashovel," he finished. "That's the funny part of it."
"It isn't funny--it's tremendous!" gasped Joanne. "Think of what a man likeyou could do with unlimited wealth, the good you might achieve, thesplendid endowments you might make----"
"I have already made several endowments," interrupted Aldous. "I believethat I have made a great many people happy, Ladygray--a great many. I amgifted to make endowments, I think, above most people. Not one of theendowments I have made has failed of complete success."
"And may I ask what some of them were?"
"I can't remember them all. There have been a great, great many. Mostconspicuous among them were three endowments which I made to some veryworthy people at various times for seven salted mines. I suppose you knowwhat a salted mine is, Ladygray? At other times I have endowed railroadstocks which were very much in need of my helping mite, two coppercompanies, a concern that was supposed to hoist up pure asbestos from thestomach of Popocatapetl, and a steamship company that never steamed. As Isaid before, they were all very successful endowments."
"And how many of the other kind have you made?" she asked gently, lookingdown the trail. "Like--Stevens', for instance?"
He turned to her sharply.
"What the deuce----"
/> "Did you succeed in getting the new outfit from Mr. Curly?" she asked.
"Yes. How did you know?"
She smiled at the amazement which had gathered in his face. A glad, softlight shone in her eyes.
"I guess Mrs. Otto has been like a mother to that poor little boy," sheexplained. "When you and Mr. Stevens went up to buy the outfit this morningJimmy ran over to tell her the news. We were all there--at breakfast. Hewas so excited he could scarcely breathe. But it all came out, and he ranback to camp before you came because he thought you wouldn't want me toknow. Wasn't that funny? He told me so when I walked a little way up thepath with him."
"The little reprobate!" chuckled Aldous. "He's the best publicity man Iever had, Ladygray. I did want you to know about this, and I wanted it tocome to you in just this way, so that I wouldn't be compelled to tell youmyself of the big and noble act I have done. It was my hope and desire thatyou, through some one else, would learn of it, and come to understand morefully what a generous and splendid biped I am. I even plotted to give thischild of Stevens' a silver dollar if he would get the news to you in someone of his innocent ways. He's done it. And he couldn't have done itbetter--even for a dollar. Ah, here we are at the cabin. Will you excuseme while I pick up a few things that I want to take on to Tete Jaune withme?"
Between two trees close to the cabin he had built a seat, and here he leftJoanne. He was gone scarcely five minutes when he reappeared with a smallpack-sack over his shoulders, locked the door, and rejoined her.
"You see it isn't much of a task for me to move," he said, as they turnedback in the direction of the Ottos'. "I'll wash the dishes when I come backnext October."
"Five months!" gasped Joanne, counting on her fingers. "John Aldous, do youmean----"
"I do," he nodded emphatically. "I frequently leave dishes unwashed forquite a spell at a time. That's the one unpleasant thing about this sort oflife--washing dishes. It's not so bad in the rainy season, but it's fierceduring a dry spell. When it rains I put the dishes out on a flat rock,dirty side up, and the good Lord does the scrubbing."
He looked at Joanne, face and eyes aglow with the happiness that wassweeping in a mighty tumult within him. Half an hour had worked atransformation in Joanne. There was no longer a trace of anguish or of fearin her eyes. Their purity and limpid beauty made him think of the rockviolets that grew high up on the mountains. Her lips and cheeks wereflushed, and the soft pressure of her hand again resting on his arm filledhim with the exquisite thrill of possession and joy. He did not speak ofTete Jaune again until they reached the Otto tent-house, and then only toassure her that he would call for her half an hour before the train wasready to leave.
As soon as possible after that he went to the telegraph office and sent along message to MacDonald. Among other things he told him to prepare theircabin for a lady guest. He knew this would shock the old mountain wanderer,but he also knew that Donald would follow his instructions in spite ofwhatever alarm he might have. There were other women at Tete Jaune, thewives of men he knew, to whom he might have taken Joanne. Under theconditions, however, he believed his own cabin would be her best refuge, atleast for a day or so. In that time he could take some one into hisconfidence, probably Blackton and his wife. In fact, as he thought thecircumstances over, he saw the necessity of confiding in the Blacktons thatvery night.
He left the station, growing a bit nervous. Was it right for him to takeJoanne to his cabin at all? He had a tremendous desire to do so, chiefly onaccount of Quade. The cabin was a quarter of a mile in the bush, and he waspositive if Joanne was there that Quade, and perhaps Culver Rann, wouldcome nosing about. This would give him the opportunity of putting intoexecution a plan which he had already arranged for himself and oldMacDonald. On the other hand, was this arrangement fair to Joanne, eventhough it gave him the chance to square up accounts with Quade?
He stopped abruptly, and faced the station. All at once there swept uponhim a realization of how blind he had been, and what a fool he had almostmade of himself. Blackton was one of the contractors who were workingmiracles in the mountains. He was a friend who would fight for him ifnecessary. Mrs. Blackton, who preferred to be on the firing line with herhusband than in her luxurious city home, was the leader of all that wasdecent and womanly in Tete Jaune. Why not have these friends meet them atthe train and take Joanne direct to their house? Such recognition andfriendship would mean everything to Joanne. To take her to his cabin wouldmean----
Inwardly he swore at himself as he hurried back to the station, and hisface burned hotly as he thought of the chance such a blunder on his partwould have given Quade and Culver Rann to circulate the stories with whichthey largely played their scoundrelly game. He sent another and longertelegram. This time it was to Blackton.
He ate dinner with Stevens, who had his new outfit ready for the mountains.It was two o'clock before he brought Joanne up to the station. She wasdressed now as he had first seen her when she entered Quade's place. A veilcovered her face. Through the gray film of it he caught the soft warm glowof her eyes and the shimmer of gold-brown tendrils of her hair. And he knewwhy she wore that veil. It set his heart beating swiftly--the fact that shewas trying to hide from all eyes but his own a beauty so pure and wonderfulthat it made her uncomfortable when under the staring gaze of the Horde.
The hand that rested on his arm he pressed closer to his side as theywalked up the station platform, and under his breath he laughed softly andjoyously as he felt the thrill of it. He spoke no word. Not until they werein their seat in the coach did Joanne look at him after that pressure ofher hand, and then she did not speak. But in the veiled glow of her eyesthere was something that told him she understood--a light that waswonderfully gentle and sweet. And yet, without words, she asked him tokeep within his soul the things that were pounding madly there for speech.
As the train rolled on and the babble of voices about them joined thecrunching rumble of the wheels, he wanted to lean close to her and tell herhow a few hours had changed the world for him. And then, for a moment, hereyes turned to him again, and he knew that it would be a sacrilege to givevoice to the things he wanted to say. For many minutes he was silent,gazing with her upon the wild panorama of mountain beauty as it driftedpast the car window. A loud voice two seats ahead of them proclaimed thatthey were about to make Templeton's Curve. The man was talking to hiscompanion.
"They shot up a hundred thousand pounds of black powder an' dynamite tomake way for two hundred feet of steel on that curve," he explained in avoice heard all over the car. "They say you could hear the explosion fiftymiles away. Jack Templeton was near-sighted, an' he didn't see a rockcoming down on him that was half as big as a house. I helped scrape up whatwas left of 'im an' we planted him at this end of the curve. It's beenTempleton's Curve ever since. You'll see his grave--with a slab over it!"
It was there almost as he spoke, marked by a white-painted cross in acircle of whitewashed stones. John Aldous felt a sudden shiver pass throughhis companion. She turned from the window. Through her veil he saw her lipstighten. Until he left the car half an hour later the man in the secondseat ahead talked of Templeton's grave and a dozen other graves along theright of way. He was a rock-hog, and a specialist on the subject ofgraves. Inwardly Aldous cursed him roundly. He cursed him all the way toTete Jaune, for to him he attributed the change which had again come overJoanne.
This change she could only partly conceal from him under her veil. Sheasked him many questions about Tete Jaune and the Blacktons, and tried totake an interest in the scenery they were passing. In spite of this hecould see that she was becoming more and more nervous as they progressedtoward the end of their journey. He felt the slow dampening of his own joy,the deadening clutch of yesterday at his heart. Twice she lifted her veilfor a moment and he saw she was pale and the tense lines had gathered abouther mouth again. There was something almost haggard in her look the secondtime.
In the early dusk of evening they arrived at Tete Jaune. Aldous waiteduntil the c
ar had emptied itself before he rose from his seat. Joanne'shand clutched at his arm as they walked down the aisle. He felt the fiercepressure of her fingers in his flesh. On the car platform they paused for amoment, and he felt her throbbing beside him. She had taken her hand fromhis arm, and he turned suddenly. She had raised her veil. Her face was deadwhite. And she was staring out over the sea of faces under them in astrange questing way, and her breath came from between her slightly partedlips as if she had been running. Amazed for the moment, John Aldous did notmove. Somewhere in that crowd _Joanne expected to find a face she knew!_The truth struck him dumb--made him inert and lifeless. He, too, stared asif in a trance. And then, suddenly, every drop of blood in his body blazedinto fierce life.
In the glow of one of the station lamps stood a group of men. The faces ofall were turned toward them. One he recognized--a bloated, leering facegrinning devilishly at them. It was Quade!
A low, frightened cry broke from Joanne's lips, and he knew that she, too,had seen him. But it was not Quade that she had looked for. It was not hisface that she had expected to see nor because of him that she had liftedher veil for the mob!
He stepped down from the car and gave her his hand. Her fingers clutchedhis convulsively. And they were cold as the fingers of the dead.