CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JACK SHOULD HAVE A HIDE-OUT
Kate, like the rest of the world, pretended to herself a good deal.For instance, when she came into the mountains, she had hoped thatFred and Marion would fall in love and get married. She felt that thearrangement would be perfectly ideal in every way. Marion was such adear girl, so sweet-tempered and light-hearted; just the temperamentthat Fred needed in a wife, to save him from becoming mentally heavyand stolid and too unemotional. Fred was so matter-of-fact! Hereagerness to have Marion come into the mining-claim scheme had notbeen altogether a friendly desire for companionship, as she pretended.Deep in the back of her mind was the matchmaker's belief thatpropinquity would prove a mighty factor in bringing these two togetherin marriage. If they did marry, that would throw Marion's timber landwith Fred's and give Fred a good bit more than he would have with hisown claim alone, which was another reason why Kate had consideredtheir marriage an ideal arrangement.
Three weeks had changed Kate's desire, however. Three weeks is a longtime for two women to spend in one small cabin together with almost nointercourse with the outside world. Little by little, Kate's opinionof Marion had changed considerably. To go to shows with Marion, tohave her at the house for dinner and to spend a night now and then, tolie relaxed upon a cot in the Martha Washington's beauty booth whileMarion ministered to her with soothing fingertips and agreeablechatter, was one thing; to live uncomfortably--albeitpicturesquely--with Marion in a log cabin in the woods was quiteanother thing.
Kate began to doubt whether Marion would make a suitable wife forFred. She had discovered that Marion was selfish, for one thing; beingselfish, she was also mercenary. Kate began to fear that Marion haddesigns upon Fred for the sake of his timber claim; which wasaltogether different, of course, from Kate's designs upon Marion'stimber claim! Besides, Marion was inclined to shirk her share of thecooking and dishwashing, and when she made their bed and tidied thecrude little room they called their bedroom, she never so much aspretended to hang up Kate's clothes. She would appropriate the nailson the wall to her own uses, and lay Kate's clothes on Kate's trunkand let it go at that. Any woman, Kate told herself, would resent suchtreatment.
Then Marion was always going off alone and never asking Kate if shewould like to go along. That was inconsiderate, to say the least. Andlook how she had acted about climbing the peak at Mount Hough, the daythey had gone to see the lake! Kate had wanted to go down to thelake--but no--Marion had declared that it was more beautiful from therim, and had insisted upon climbing clear to the top of the peak, whenshe knew perfectly well that the altitude was affecting Kate's heart.And she had gone off alone and stayed nearly two hours, so that theywere almost caught in the dark on the way home. It was the mostselfish thing Kate had ever heard of--until Marion perpetrated worseselfishness which paled the incident.
More than that, Marion was always making little, sneering remarksabout the professor, and doing little things to annoy him. Kate couldnot see how any one could do that, kind as Douglas was, and courteous.And there were times when Marion seemed actually to be trying tointerest Fred; other times she purposely irritated him, as though shewere deliberately amusing herself with him. All this was not takinginto account Marion's penurious habit of charging Kate for everyfacial massage and every manicure she gave her. When Kate looked aheadto the long winter they must spend together in that cabin, she wastempted to feel as though she, for one, would be paying an exorbitantprice for her timber claim.
With all that tucked away in the back of her mind, Kate stillbelieved--or at least she successfully pretended to believe--that sheliked Marion personally as much as she ever had liked her. She did notsee why any one must be absolutely blind to the faults of a friend.She merely recognized Marion's faults. But if she ever criticised, shecondoned the criticism by saying that it was for Marion's own bestinterests.
Just now, while she cleared away the litter of Fred's dinner, shemeditated upon the proper manner of dealing with Marion's latestdefection. Should she warn the professor to say nothing to Fred? Itmight turn Fred against Marion to know what she had done; Fred was soqueer and old-fashioned about women. Still, he would be sure to hearof it somehow, and it might be best to tell him herself, as tactfullyas possible, because she knew so well just how best to approach Fred.She told Fred and was amazed at the result.
"Well, what of it?" Fred demanded with brotherly bluntness. "It takesa woman, by thunder, to knife her friends in the back. What are youtrying to build up anyway? Take it from me, old girl, you want to cutout this picking away at Marion behind her back--or to her face,either, for that matter. You two women are going to see a good dealof each other between now and spring, and you'll be ready to claw eachother's eyes out if you don't shut them to a lot you don't like."
"Well, upon my word! I was merely telling you of Marion's adventure.I'm not saying--"
"No, but you're thinking, and you want to quit it." Whereupon Fredwent off to his tent and indulged in a much needed siesta.
Kate was angry as well as hurt. The injustice of Fred's condemnationstirred her to action. She got hurriedly into her khaki skirt andtramping shoes, slung a canteen over her shoulder, tied her green veilover her hat and under her chin, put on her amber sun-glasses, andtook her stout walking stick.
She was careful not to wake Fred or the professor, though that wouldhave been more difficult than she imagined. She did not want them toknow where she was going. If they missed her and were worried it wouldserve them both right; for now she remembered that the professor hadalso been very unsympathetic. Neither of them had seemed to realizewhat a terrible night she had spent there alone, with that terriblefire raging through the forest and with Marion gone, without sayingone word to Kate about where she was going or when she expected toreturn.
She meant to climb Mount Hough in spite of the altitude, and find outfor herself what sort of a fellow that lookout man was. Fred andDouglas might make light of the matter if they wished, but she was ina sense responsible for Marion Rose, and she considered it her duty tothink of the girl's welfare.
There was a good deal of determination in Kate's character, once youroused her out of herself. She climbed Mount Hough, but she did notfind out what sort of a fellow the lookout man was, for Jack heard herpuffing up the pack trail and retired, with the precipitateness of ahunted fox, to his niche between the boulders. She did not stay long.As soon as she had rested a little and made sure that the station doorwas locked, and had peered in and seen that everything was in perfectorder, she decided that the lookout man was probably off fighting firewith the rest of the forest rangers. Convinced of that, shestraightway jumped to the conclusion that he had not been there at allsince the fire started, and Marion must have stayed up there alone,and she had simply been trying to worry Kate over nothing.
Well, at any rate, she couldn't play that trick the second time. Katefelt well repaid for the climb even if she did not get a glimpse ofthe lookout man. Let Marion pretend, if she wanted to. Let her raveabout the lookout man's mouth and eyes and temper; Kate was armedagainst all future baitings. She could go back now and be mistress ofthe situation.
So she went, and Jack listened to her retreating footsteps scrunchingdown the trail, and heaved a deep sigh of relief when the silenceflowed in behind her and the mountain top was all his own.Nevertheless he felt uneasy over the incident. Kate, climbing alone tothe station, trying the door, waiting around for a few minutes andthen going back the way she had come, did not strike Jack as being atourist come to view the scenery. So far as he had been able to judgeas he peeped out through a narrow rift in the ledge, she had paid verylittle attention to the scenery. She seemed chiefly concerned with thestation, and her concern seemed mostly an impatience over its lockeddoor.
He got his telescope and watched her as she came down through therocks into sight. No, she certainly did not strike him as being atourist, in spite of her tourist's khaki and amber glasses and heavytan boots. Women tourists did not climb mountains with
out an escort ofsome kind, he had learned.
"By heck, I'll bet that's Kate!" he exclaimed suddenly, staring at herretreating form. "Now, what does the old girl want--?" Straightway heguessed what she wanted, and the guess brought his eyebrows togetherwith the lump between which Marion had described. If she had come upthere to see _him_, it must be because she had heard something abouthim that had stirred her up considerably. He remembered how she hadrefused to climb the peak with Marion, that first afternoon.
You know how self-conscious a secret makes a person. Jack could thinkof only one reason why Kate should climb away up there to see him. Shemust know who he was, and had come up to settle any doubt in her mindbefore she did anything. If she knew who he was, then Marion Rose musthave told her. And if Marion Rose had gone straight and told herfriends--
Jack went so far as to pack everything he owned into his suitcase andcarry it to the niche in the ledge. He would not stay and give her thesatisfaction of sending the sheriff up there. He was a headlong youth,much given to hasty judgments. All that night he hated Marion Roseworse than he had ever hated any one in his life. He did not leave,however. He could not quite bring himself to the point of leavingwhile his beloved mountain was being scarred with fire. He knew thatit was for the sake of having him there in just such an emergency asthis fire that the government paid him a salary. Headlong as was hisnature, there was in him the quality of being loyal to a trust. Hecould make all preparations for leaving--but until the fire was outand the forest safe for the time being, he could not go.
Then, quite early the next day, Marion herself came up the trail withthree movie magazines and a loaf of bread that she had purloined fromKate's makeshift pantry. On this day she was not so frivolous, buthelpful and full of sympathy. Jack could not believe that she had toldhis secret to Kate; and because he could not believe it he asked herpoint blank whether Kate had come spying up there deliberately, andwas vastly reassured by Marion's vehement denial.
They worked out a heliograph code that day, and they planned anexploring trip to Taylor Rock the next time Jack was relieved. Itseemed very important that Jack should have a picturesque hide-outthere; a secret cave, perhaps, with a tilting rock to cover thedoorway.
"It would be great," declared Marion, clasping her hands together withher favorite ecstatic gesture. "If we could just find a cave with aspring away back in it, don't you know, and a ledge outside where youcould watch for enemies--wouldn't that be keen? It makes me wish I haddone something, so I had to hide out in the hills. And every day at acertain time, I can come up here where that hydrometer thing wasbefore it burned, and signal to you. And we'll find a place where Ican leave magazines and things like that, and you can come and getthem. Honestly, I've always wished I could be an outlaw--if I could beone without doing anything really bad, you know. I'd love having tolive in a cave somewhere. You're lucky, Jack--Johnny Carew--if youonly knew it."
"I do know it. I never found it out till today, though," Jack told herwith what he fancied was an enigmatic smile.
"Now listen. If you want me to help you enjoy being an outlaw, JackCorey, you simply must cut out the sentimental stuff. Let me tell youhow I feel about it. It's nothing new to have men make love--any kindof a man will sit up and say 'bow-wow' if you snap your fingers athim. That's deadly common. But here you are, a bandit and an outlawwithout being bad or tough--I don't think you are, anyway. You didn'tdo such awful things to get in bad with the law, you see. But you'rehiding out just the same, with the police sleuthing around after you,and disowned by your mother and all, just like the real thing. Why,it's a story in real life! And I want to live in that story, too, andhelp you just like a book heroine. I think we can make it awfullyinteresting, being real enough so it isn't just make-believe. It'skeen, I tell you. But for once I want to see if a boy and a girl can'tcut out the love interest and be just good pals, like two boystogether." Marion got up and stood before him, plainly as ready to goas to stay. "If you'll agree to that I'll go and help you find yourcave. Otherwise, I'll go back to camp and stay there, and you can lookafter yourself."
"Be calm! Be calm!" Jack pushed back his mop of hair and grinnedderisively. "You should worry about any lovemaking from me. Take thebunch out at the beach, or at a dance, and I can rattle off thesentimental patter to beat the band. But it doesn't seem to fit in uphere--unless a fellow meant it honest-to-goodness. And I ain't goingto mean it, my dear girl. Not with you. I like you as a friend, but Ifear I can never be more than a step-brother to you." He pulled off adead twig from the bush beside him, snapped it in two and flipped thepieces down the slope. "I'd look nice, making love to a girl, the fixI'm in!" he added with a savage bitterness that gave the lie to hissmiling indifference. "A fellow ought to make sure his canoe is goingto stay right side up before he asks a girl to step into it."
"That's all right then. It's best to understand each other. Now, if Iwere you, I'd have things brought up here, a little at a time, thatyou'll need for your secret camp. Groceries, you know, and things. Youcan make a place to keep them in till you get your vacation--andlisten! When I go to town I can buy you things that would look queerif you sent for them. Towels and napkins and--"
Jack gave a whoop at that, though his ignorance of primitive livingdid not fall far short of hers. But in the main, he took her advicewith praiseworthy gratitude. He had never expected to enjoy being anoutlaw. But under the influence of her enthusiasm and his ownyouthfulness, he began to take a certain interest in the details ofher scheme--to plan with her as though it was going to be merely acamping out for pleasure. That, of course, was the boy in him risingto the bait of a secret cave in the mountains, and exchangingheliograph signals with the heroine of the adventure, and lying upon aledge before his cave watching for enemies. There would be the bears,too, that Hank Brown had said would be ambling up there to theirwinter quarters. And there would be the scream of the mountainlions--Jack had more than once heard them at night down in the forestbelow him, and had thrilled to the sound. He would stalk the shy deerand carry meat to his cave and broil the flesh over his tinycampfire--don't tell me that the boy in any normal young man would notrise enthusiastically to that bait!
But there were other times, when Marion was not there; when Jack wasalone with the stars and the dark bulk of the wooded slopes beneathhim; times when the adventure paled and grew bleak before his soul, sothat he shrank from it appalled. Times when he could not shut out thepicture of the proud, stately Mrs. Singleton Corey, hiding humiliatedand broken of spirit in a sanatorium, shamed before the world becausehe was her son. Not all the secret caves the mountains held could dullthe pain of that thought when it assailed him in the dark stillness ofthe peak.
For Jack was her true offspring in pride, if no more. He had been asensitive youngster who had resented passionately his mother's slightsupon his vague memory of the dad who had given him his adventurousspirit and his rebellion against the restraints of mere convention,which was his mother's dearest god. Unknown to Mrs. Singleton Corey,he had ardently espoused the cause of his wandering dad, and hadwithdrawn his love from the arrogant lady-mother, who never once spokeaffectionately of the man Jack loved. He had taken what money she gavehim. It was his dad's money, for his dad had suffered hardship towrest it from the earth, in the mines that kept Mrs. Singleton Coreyin soft, perfumed luxury. His dad would have wanted Jack to have it,so Jack took all she would give him and did not feel particularlygrateful to her because she was fairly generous in giving.
But now the very pride that he had inherited from her turned upon himthe savage weapons of memory. He had swift visions of his mothermounting the steps of some mansion, going graciously to make afashionable ten-minute call upon some friend, while Jack playedchauffeur for the occasion. She couldn't go calling now on theWestlake millionaires' wives, taunted memory. Neither could shepreside at the club teas; nor invite forty or fifty twittery womeninto her big double parlors and queen it over them as Jack had sooften seen her do. She could not do any of the things that had made uphe
r life, and Jack was the reason why she could not do them.
He tried to shut out the picture of his mother, and there were timeswhen for a few hours he succeeded. Those were the hours he spent withMarion or in watching for her to come, or in perfecting the details ofthe plan she had helped him to form. By the time he had his next fourdays of freedom, he had also a good-sized cache of food ready to carryto Grizzly Peak where his makeshift camping outfit was hidden. Marionhad told him that when the fire-season was over and the lookoutstation closed for the winter, which would be when the first snow hadcome to stay, he ought to be ready to disappear altogether from theken of the Forest Service and all of the rest of Quincy.
"You can say you're going prospecting," she planned, "and then beat itto your cave and make it snug for the winter. Anything you must buyafter that, you can tell me about it, and I'll manage to get it andleave it for you at our secret meeting place. I don't know how I'llmanage about Kate, but I'll manage somehow--and that'll be fun, too.Kate will be perfectly wild if she sees me doing mysteriousthings--but she won't find out what it's all about, and I'll have morefun! I do love to badger her, poor thing. She's a dear, really, youknow. But she wants to know everything a person does and says andthinks; and she hasn't any more imagination than a white rabbit, andso she wouldn't understand if you told her every little thing.
"So I'll have the time of my life doing it, but I'll get things justthe same, and leave them for you. And I'll bring you reading--oh, haveyou put down candles, Jack? You'll need a lot of them, so you can readevenings."
"What's the matter with pine knots?" Jack inquired. "Daniel Boone wasgreat on pine-knot torches, if I remember right. One thing I wish youwould do, Marion. I'll give you the money to send for about a millionAraby cigarettes. I'll write down the address--where I always boughtthem. Think you could get by with it?
"You just watch me. Say, I do think this is going to be the best kindof a winter! I wouldn't miss being up here for anything."
Jack looked at her doubtfully, but he finally nodded his head inassent. "It could be worse," he qualified optimistically.