Part 1 out of 3
This etext was prepared by Donald Lainson, firstname.lastname@example.org.
SNOW-BOUND AT EAGLE'S
by Bret Harte
SNOW-BOUND AT EAGLE'S
For some moments profound silence and darkness had accompanied a
Sierran stage-coach towards the summit. The huge, dim bulk of the
vehicle, swaying noiselessly on its straps, glided onward and
upward as if obeying some mysterious impulse from behind, so faint
and indefinite appeared its relation to the viewless and silent
horses ahead. The shadowy trunks of tall trees that seemed to
approach the coach windows, look in, and then move hurriedly away,
were the only distinguishable objects. Yet even these were so
vague and unreal that they might have been the mere phantoms of
some dream of the half-sleeping passengers; for the thickly-strewn
needles of the pine, that choked the way and deadened all sound,
yielded under the silently-crushing wheels a faint soporific odor
that seemed to benumb their senses, already slipping back into
unconsciousness during the long ascent. Suddenly the stage stopped.
Three of the four passengers inside struggled at once into upright
wakefulness. The fourth passenger, John Hale, had not been
sleeping, and turned impatiently towards the window. It seemed to
him that two of the moving trees had suddenly become motionless
outside. One of them moved again, and the door opened quickly but
quietly, as of itself.
"Git down," said a voice in the darkness.
All the passengers except Hale started. The man next to him moved
his right hand suddenly behind him, but as quickly stopped. One of
the motionless trees had apparently closed upon the vehicle, and
what had seemed to be a bough projecting from it at right angles
changed slowly into the faintly shining double-barrels of a gun at
"Drop that!" said the voice.
The man who had moved uttered a short laugh, and returned his hand
empty to his knees. The two others perceptibly shrugged their
shoulders as over a game that was lost. The remaining passenger,
John Hale, fearless by nature, inexperienced by habit, awaking
suddenly to the truth, conceived desperate resistance. But without
his making a gesture this was instinctively felt by the others; the
muzzle of the gun turned spontaneously on him, and he was vaguely
conscious of a certain contempt and impatience of him in his
"Git down," repeated the voice imperatively.
The three passengers descended. Hale, furious, alert, but helpless
of any opportunity, followed. He was surprised to find the stage-
driver and express messenger standing beside him; he had not heard
them dismount. He instinctively looked towards the horses. He
could see nothing.
"Hold up your hands!"
One of the passengers had already lifted his, in a weary,
perfunctory way. The others did the same reluctantly and
awkwardly, but apparently more from the consciousness of the
ludicrousness of their attitude than from any sense of danger. The
rays of a bull's-eye lantern, deftly managed by invisible hands,
while it left the intruders in shadow, completely illuminated the
faces and figures of the passengers. In spite of the majestic
obscurity and silence of surrounding nature, the group of humanity
thus illuminated was more farcical than dramatic. A scrap of
newspaper, part of a sandwich, and an orange peel that had fallen
from the floor of the coach, brought into equal prominence by the
searching light, completed the absurdity.
"There's a man here with a package of greenbacks," said the voice,
with an official coolness that lent a certain suggestion of Custom
House inspection to the transaction; "who is it?" The passengers
looked at each other, and their glance finally settled on Hale.
"It's not HIM," continued the voice, with a slight tinge of
contempt on the emphasis. "You'll save time and searching,
gentlemen, if you'll tote it out. If we've got to go through every
one of you we'll try to make it pay."
The significant threat was not unheeded. The passenger who had
first moved when the stage stopped put his hand to his breast.
"T'other pocket first, if you please," said the voice.
The man laughed, drew a pistol from his hip pocket, and, under the
strong light of the lantern, laid it on a spot in the road
indicated by the voice. A thick envelope, taken from his breast
pocket, was laid beside it. "I told the d--d fools that gave it to
me, instead of sending it by express, it would be at their own
risk," he said apologetically.
"As it's going with the express now it's all the same," said the
inevitable humorist of the occasion, pointing to the despoiled
express treasure-box already in the road.
The intention and deliberation of the outrage was plain enough to
Hale's inexperience now. Yet he could not understand the cool
acquiescence of his fellow-passengers, and was furious. His
reflections were interrupted by a voice which seemed to come from a
greater distance. He fancied it was even softer in tone, as if a
certain austerity was relaxed.
"Step in as quick as you like, gentlemen. You've five minutes to
The passengers reentered the coach; the driver and express
messenger hurriedly climbed to their places. Hale would have
spoken, but an impatient gesture from his companions stopped him.
They were evidently listening for something; he listened too.
Yet the silence remained unbroken. It seemed incredible that there
should be no indication near or far of that forceful presence which
a moment ago had been so dominant. No rustle in the wayside
"brush," nor echo from the rocky canyon below, betrayed a sound of
their flight. A faint breeze stirred the tall tips of the pines, a
cone dropped on the stage roof, one of the invisible horses that
seemed to be listening too moved slightly in his harness. But this
only appeared to accentuate the profound stillness. The moments
were growing interminable, when the voice, so near as to startle
Hale, broke once more from the surrounding obscurity.
It was the signal that they were free. The driver's whip cracked
like a pistol shot, the horses sprang furiously forward, the huge
vehicle lurched ahead, and then bounded violently after them. When
Hale could make his voice heard in the confusion--a confusion which
seemed greater from the colorless intensity of their last few
moments' experience--he said hurriedly, "Then that fellow was there
all the time?"
"I reckon," returned his companion, "he stopped five minutes to
cover the driver with his double-barrel, until the two other men
got off with the treasure."
"The TWO others!" gasped Hale. "Then there were only THREE men,
and we SIX."
The man shrugged his shoulders. The passenger who had given up the
greenbacks drawled, with a slow, irritating tolerance, "I reckon
you're a stranger here?"
"I am--to this sort of thing, certainly, though I live a dozen
miles from here, at Eagle's Court," returned Hale scornfully.
"Then you're the chap that's doin' that fancy ranchin' over at
Eagle's," continued the man lazily.
"Whatever I'm doing at Eagle's Court, I'm not ashamed of it," said
Hale tartly; "and that's more than I can say of what I've done--or
HAVEN'T done--to-night. I've been one of six men over-awed and
robbed by THREE."
"As to the over-awin', ez you call it--mebbee you know more about
it than us. As to the robbin'--ez far as I kin remember, YOU
haven't onloaded much. Ef you're talkin' about what OUGHTER have
been done, I'll tell you what COULD have happened. P'r'aps ye
noticed that when he pulled up I made a kind of grab for my wepping
"I did; and you wern't quick enough," said Hale shortly.
"I wasn't quick enough, and that saved YOU. For ef I got that
pistol out and in sight o' that man that held the gun--"
"Well," said Hale impatiently, "he'd have hesitated."
"He'd hev blown YOU with both barrels outer the window, and that
before I'd got a half-cock on my revolver."
"But that would have been only one man gone, and there would have
been five of you left," said Hale haughtily.
"That might have been, ef you'd contracted to take the hull charge
of two handfuls of buck-shot and slugs; but ez one eighth o' that
amount would have done your business, and yet left enough to have
gone round, promiskiss, and satisfied the other passengers, it
wouldn't do to kalkilate upon."
"But the express messenger and the driver were armed," continued
"They were armed, but not FIXED; that makes all the difference."
"I don't understand."
"I reckon you know what a duel is?"
"Well, the chances agin US was about the same as you'd have ef you
was put up agin another chap who was allowed to draw a bead on you,
and the signal to fire was YOUR DRAWIN' YOUR WEAPON. You may be a
stranger to this sort o' thing, and p'r'aps you never fought a
duel, but even then you wouldn't go foolin' your life away on any
Something in the man's manner, as in a certain sly amusement the
other passengers appeared to extract from the conversation,
impressed Hale, already beginning to be conscious of the ludicrous
insufficiency of his own grievance beside that of his interlocutor.
"Then you mean to say this thing is inevitable," said he bitterly,
but less aggressively.
"Ez long ez they hunt YOU; when you hunt THEM you've got the
advantage, allus provided you know how to get at them ez well as
they know how to get at you. This yer coach is bound to go
regular, and on certain days. THEY ain't. By the time the sheriff
gets out his posse they've skedaddled, and the leader, like as not,
is takin' his quiet cocktail at the Bank Exchange, or mebbe losin'
his earnings to the sheriff over draw poker, in Sacramento. You
see you can't prove anything agin them unless you take them 'on the
fly.' It may be a part of Joaquim Murietta's band, though I
wouldn't swear to it."
"The leader might have been Gentleman George, from up-country,"
interposed a passenger. "He seemed to throw in a few fancy
touches, particlerly in that 'Good night.' Sorter chucked a little
sentiment in it. Didn't seem to be the same thing ez, 'Git, yer d--d
suckers,' on the other line."
"Whoever he was, he knew the road and the men who travelled on it.
Like ez not, he went over the line beside the driver on the box on
the down trip, and took stock of everything. He even knew I had
those greenbacks; though they were handed to me in the bank at
Sacramento. He must have been hanging 'round there."
For some moments Hale remained silent. He was a civic-bred man,
with an intense love of law and order; the kind of man who is the
first to take that law and order into his own hands when he does
not find it existing to please him. He had a Bostonian's respect
for respectability, tradition, and propriety, but was willing to
face irregularity and impropriety to create order elsewhere. He
was fond of Nature with these limitations, never quite trusting her
unguided instincts, and finding her as an instructress greatly
inferior to Harvard University, though possibly not to Cornell.
With dauntless enterprise and energy he had built and stocked a
charming cottage farm in a nook in the Sierras, whence he opposed,
like the lesser Englishman that he was, his own tastes to those of
the alien West. In the present instance he felt it incumbent upon
him not only to assert his principles, but to act upon them with
his usual energy. How far he was impelled by the half-contemptuous
passiveness of his companions it would be difficult to say.
"What is to prevent the pursuit of them at once?" he asked
suddenly. "We are a few miles from the station, where horses can
"Who's to do it?" replied the other lazily. "The stage company
will lodge the complaint with the authorities, but it will take two
days to get the county officers out, and it's nobody else's
"I will go for one," said Hale quietly. "I have a horse waiting
for me at the station, and can start at once."
There was an instant of silence. The stage-coach had left the
obscurity of the forest, and by the stronger light Hale could
perceive that his companion was examining him with two colorless,
lazy eyes. Presently he said, meeting Hale's clear glance, but
rather as if yielding to a careless reflection,--
"It MIGHT be done with four men. We oughter raise one man at the
station." He paused. "I don't know ez I'd mind taking a hand
myself," he added, stretching out his legs with a slight yawn.
"Ye can count ME in, if you're goin', Kernel. I reckon I'm talkin'
to Kernel Clinch," said the passenger beside Hale with sudden
alacrity. "I'm Rawlins, of Frisco. Heerd of ye afore, Kernel, and
kinder spotted you jist now from your talk."
To Hale's surprise the two men, after awkwardly and perfunctorily
grasping each other's hand, entered at once into a languid
conversation on the recent election at Fresno, without the
slightest further reference to the pursuit of the robbers. It was
not until the remaining and undenominated passenger turned to Hale,
and, regretting that he had immediate business at the Summit,
offered to accompany the party if they would wait a couple of
hours, that Colonel Clinch briefly returned to the subject.
"FOUR men will do, and ez we'll hev to take horses from the station
we'll hev to take the fourth man from there."
With these words he resumed his uninteresting conversation with the
equally uninterested Rawlins, and the undenominated passenger
subsided into an admiring and dreamy contemplation of them both.
With all his principle and really high-minded purpose, Hale could
not help feeling constrained and annoyed at the sudden subordinate
and auxiliary position to which he, the projector of the
enterprise, had been reduced. It was true that he had never
offered himself as their leader; it was true that the principle he
wished to uphold and the effect he sought to obtain would be
equally demonstrated under another; it was true that the execution
of his own conception gravitated by some occult impulse to the man
who had not sought it, and whom he had always regarded as an
incapable. But all this was so unlike precedent or tradition that,
after the fashion of conservative men, he was suspicious of it, and
only that his honor was now involved he would have withdrawn from
the enterprise. There was still a chance of reasserting himself at
the station, where he was known, and where some authority might be
deputed to him.
But even this prospect failed. The station, half hotel and half
stable, contained only the landlord, who was also express agent,
and the new volunteer who Clinch had suggested would be found among
the stable-men. The nearest justice of the peace was ten miles
away, and Hale had to abandon even his hope of being sworn in as a
deputy constable. This introduction of a common and illiterate
ostler into the party on equal terms with himself did not add to
his satisfaction, and a remark from Rawlins seemed to complete his
"Ye had a mighty narrer escape down there just now," said that
gentleman confidentially, as Hale buckled his saddle girths.
"I thought, as we were not supposed to defend ourselves, there was
no danger," said Hale scornfully.
"Oh, I don't mean them road agents. But HIM."
"Kernel Clinch. You jist ez good as allowed he hadn't any grit."
"Whatever I said, I suppose I am responsible for it," answered Hale
"That's what gits me," was the imperturbable reply. "He's the best
shot in Southern California, and hez let daylight through a dozen
chaps afore now for half what you said."
"Howsummever," continued Rawlins philosophically, "ez he's
concluded to go WITH ye instead of FOR ye, you're likely to hev
your ideas on this matter carried out up to the handle. He'll make
short work of it, you bet. Ef, ez I suspect, the leader is an airy
young feller from Frisco, who hez took to the road lately, Clinch
hez got a personal grudge agin him from a quarrel over draw poker."
This was the last blow to Hale's ideal crusade. Here he was--an
honest, respectable citizen--engaged as simple accessory to a
lawless vendetta originating at a gambling table! When the first
shock was over that grim philosophy which is the reaction of all
imaginative and sensitive natures came to his aid. He felt better;
oddly enough he began to be conscious that he was thinking and
acting like his companions. With this feeling a vague sympathy,
before absent, faintly showed itself in their actions. The
Sharpe's rifle put into his hands by the stable-man was accompanied
by a familiar word of suggestion as to an equal, which he was
ashamed to find flattered him. He was able to continue the
conversation with Rawlins more coolly.
"Then you suspect who is the leader?"
"Only on giniral principles. There was a finer touch, so to speak,
in this yer robbery that wasn't in the old-fashioned style. Down
in my country they hed crude ideas about them things--used to strip
the passengers of everything, includin' their clothes. They say
that at the station hotels, when the coach came in, the folks used
to stand round with blankets to wrap up the passengers so ez not to
skeer the wimen. Thar's a story that the driver and express
manager drove up one day with only a copy of the Alty Californy
wrapped around 'em; but thin," added Rawlins grimly, "there WAS
folks ez said the hull story was only an advertisement got up for
"Are you ready, gentlemen?" said Colonel Clinch.
Hale started. He had forgotten his wife and family at Eagle's
Court, ten miles away. They would be alarmed at his absence, would
perhaps hear some exaggerated version of the stage coach robbery,
and fear the worst.
"Is there any way I could send a line to Eagle's Court before
daybreak?" he asked eagerly.
The station was already drained of its spare men and horses. The
undenominated passenger stepped forward and offered to take it
himself when his business, which he would despatch as quickly as
possible, was concluded.
"That ain't a bad idea," said Clinch reflectively, "for ef yer
hurry you'll head 'em off in case they scent us, and try to double
back on the North Ridge. They'll fight shy of the trail if they
see anybody on it, and one man's as good as a dozen."
Hale could not help thinking that he might have been that one man,
and had his opportunity for independent action but for his rash
proposal, but it was too late to withdraw now. He hastily
scribbled a few lines to his wife on a sheet of the station paper,
handed it to the man, and took his place in the little cavalcade as
it filed silently down the road.
They had ridden in silence for nearly an hour, and had passed the
scene of the robbery by a higher track. Morning had long ago
advanced its colors on the cold white peaks to their right, and was
taking possession of the spur where they rode.
"It looks like snow," said Rawlins quietly.
Hale turned towards him in astonishment. Nothing on earth or sky
looked less likely. It had been cold, but that might have been
only a current from the frozen peaks beyond, reaching the lower
valley. The ridge on which they had halted was still thick with
yellowish-green summer foliage, mingled with the darker evergreen
of pine and fir. Oven-like canyons in the long flanks of the
mountain seemed still to glow with the heat of yesterday's noon;
the breathless air yet trembled and quivered over stifling gorges
and passes in the granite rocks, while far at their feet sixty
miles of perpetual summer stretched away over the winding American
River, now and then lost in a gossamer haze. It was scarcely ripe
October where they stood; they could see the plenitude of August
still lingering in the valleys.
"I've seen Thomson's Pass choked up with fifteen feet o' snow
earlier than this," said Rawlins, answering Hale's gaze; "and last
September the passengers sledded over the road we came last night,
and all the time Thomson, a mile lower down over the ridge in the
hollow, smoking his pipes under roses in his piazzy! Mountains is
mighty uncertain; they make their own weather ez they want it. I
reckon you ain't wintered here yet."
Hale was obliged to admit that he had only taken Eagle's Court in
the early spring.
"Oh, you're all right at Eagle's--when you're there! But it's like
Thomson's--it's the gettin' there that-- Hallo! What's that?"
A shot, distant but distinct, had rung through the keen air. It
was followed by another so alike as to seem an echo.
"That's over yon, on the North Ridge," said the ostler, "about two
miles as the crow flies and five by the trail. Somebody's shootin'
"Not with a shot gun," said Clinch, quickly wheeling his horse with
a gesture that electrified them. "It's THEM, and the've doubled on
us! To the North Ridge, gentlemen, and ride all you know!"
It needed no second challenge to completely transform that quiet
cavalcade. The wild man-hunting instinct, inseparable to most
humanity, rose at their leader's look and word. With an incoherent
and unintelligible cry, giving voice to the chase like the
commonest hound of their fields, the order-loving Hale and the
philosophical Rawlins wheeled with the others, and in another
instant the little band swept out of sight in the forest.
An immense and immeasurable quiet succeeded. The sunlight
glistened silently on cliff and scar, the vast distance below
seemed to stretch out and broaden into repose. It might have been
fancy, but over the sharp line of the North Ridge a light smoke
lifted as of an escaping soul.
Eagle's Court, one of the highest canyons of the Sierras, was in
reality a plateau of table-land, embayed like a green lake in a
semi-circular sweep of granite, that, lifting itself three thousand
feet higher, became a foundation for the eternal snows. The
mountain genii of space and atmosphere jealously guarded its
seclusion and surrounded it with illusions; it never looked to be
exactly what it was: the traveller who saw it from the North Ridge
apparently at his feet in descending found himself separated from
it by a mile-long abyss and a rushing river; those who sought it by
a seeming direct trail at the end of an hour lost sight of it
completely, or, abandoning the quest and retracing their steps,
suddenly came upon the gap through which it was entered. That
which from the Ridge appeared to be a copse of bushes beside the
tiny dwelling were trees three hundred feet high; the cultivated
lawn before it, which might have been covered by the traveller's
handkerchief, was a field of a thousand acres.
The house itself was a long, low, irregular structure, chiefly of
roof and veranda, picturesquely upheld by rustic pillars of pine,
with the bark still adhering, and covered with vines and trailing
roses. Yet it was evident that the coolness produced by this vast
extent of cover was more than the architect, who had planned it
under the influence of a staring and bewildering sky, had
trustfully conceived, for it had to be mitigated by blazing fires
in open hearths when the thermometer marked a hundred degrees in
the field beyond. The dry, restless wind that continually rocked
the tall masts of the pines with a sound like the distant sea,
while it stimulated out-door physical exertion and defied fatigue,
left the sedentary dwellers in these altitudes chilled in the shade
they courted, or scorched them with heat when they ventured to bask
supinely in the sun. White muslin curtains at the French windows,
and rugs, skins, and heavy furs dispersed in the interior, with
certain other charming but incongruous details of furniture, marked
the inconsistencies of the climate.
There was a coquettish indication of this in the costume of Miss
Kate Scott as she stepped out on the veranda that morning. A man's
broad-brimmed Panama hat, partly unsexed by a twisted gayly-colored
scarf, but retaining enough character to give piquancy to the
pretty curves of the face beneath, protected her from the sun; a
red flannel shirt--another spoil from the enemy--and a thick jacket
shielded her from the austerities of the morning breeze. But the
next inconsistency was peculiarly her own. Miss Kate always wore
the freshest and lightest of white cambric skirts, without the
least reference to the temperature. To the practical sanatory
remonstrances of her brother-in-law, and to the conventional
criticism of her sister, she opposed the same defence: "How else is
one to tell when it is summer in this ridiculous climate? And
then, woollen is stuffy, color draws the sun, and one at least
knows when one is clean or dirty." Artistically the result was far
from unsatisfactory. It was a pretty figure under the sombre
pines, against the gray granite and the steely sky, and seemed to
lend the yellowing fields from which the flowers had already fled a
floral relief of color. I do not think the few masculine wayfarers
of that locality objected to it; indeed, some had betrayed an
indiscreet admiration, and had curiously followed the invitation of
Miss Kate's warmly-colored figure until they had encountered the
invincible indifference of Miss Kate's cold gray eyes. With these
manifestations her brother-in-law did not concern himself; he had
perfect confidence in her unqualified disinterest in the
neighboring humanity, and permitted her to wander in her solitary
picturesqueness, or accompanied her when she rode in her dark green
habit, with equal freedom from anxiety.
For Miss Scott, although only twenty, had already subjected most of
her maidenly illusions to mature critical analyses. She had
voluntarily accompanied her sister and mother to California, in the
earnest hope that nature contained something worth saying to her,
and was disappointed to find she had already discounted its value
in the pages of books. She hoped to find a vague freedom in this
unconventional life thus opened to her, or rather to show others
that she knew how intelligently to appreciate it, but as yet she
was only able to express it in the one detail of dress already
alluded to. Some of the men, and nearly all the women, she had met
thus far, she was amazed to find, valued the conventionalities she
believed she despised, and were voluntarily assuming the chains she
thought she had thrown off. Instead of learning anything from
them, these children of nature had bored her with eager
questionings regarding the civilization she had abandoned, or
irritated her with crude imitations of it for her benefit.
"Fancy," she had written to a friend in Boston, "my calling on Sue
Murphy, who remembered the Donner tragedy, and who once shot a
grizzly that was prowling round her cabin, and think of her begging
me to lend her my sack for a pattern, and wanting to know if
'polonays' were still worn." She remembered more bitterly the
romance that had tickled her earlier fancy, told of two college
friends of her brother-in-law's who were living the "perfect life"
in the mines, laboring in the ditches with a copy of Homer in their
pockets, and writing letters of the purest philosophy under the
free air of the pines. How, coming unexpectedly on them in their
Arcadia, the party found them unpresentable through dirt, and
thenceforth unknowable through domestic complications that had
filled their Arcadian cabin with half-breed children.
Much of this disillusion she had kept within her own heart, from a
feeling of pride, or only lightly touched upon it in her relations
with her mother and sister. For Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Scott had no
idols to shatter, no enthusiasm to subdue. Firmly and unalterably
conscious of their own superiority to the life they led and the
community that surrounded them, they accepted their duties
cheerfully, and performed them conscientiously. Those duties were
loyalty to Hale's interests and a vague missionary work among the
neighbors, which, like most missionary work, consisted rather in
making their own ideas understood than in understanding the ideas
of their audience. Old Mrs. Scott's zeal was partly religious, an
inheritance from her Puritan ancestry; Mrs. Hale's was the
affability of a gentlewoman and the obligation of her position. To
this was added the slight languor of the cultivated American wife,
whose health has been affected by the birth of her first child, and
whose views of marriage and maternity were slightly tinged with
gentle scepticism. She was sincerely attached to her husband, "who
dominated the household" like the rest of his "women folk," with
the faint consciousness of that division of service which renders
the position of the sultan of a seraglio at once so prominent and
so precarious. The attitude of John Hale in his family circle was
dominant because it had never been subjected to criticism or
comparison; and perilous for the same reason.
Mrs. Hale presently joined her sister in the veranda, and, shading
her eyes with a narrow white hand, glanced on the prospect with a
polite interest and ladylike urbanity. The searching sun, which,
as Miss Kate once intimated, was "vulgarity itself," stared at her
in return, but could not call a blush to her somewhat sallow cheek.
Neither could it detract, however, from the delicate prettiness of
her refined face with its soft gray shadows, or the dark gentle
eyes, whose blue-veined lids were just then wrinkled into
coquettishly mischievous lines by the strong light. She was taller
and thinner than Kate, and had at times a certain shy, coy
sinuosity of movement which gave her a more virginal suggestion
than her unmarried sister. For Miss Kate, from her earliest youth,
had been distinguished by that matronly sedateness of voice and
step, and completeness of figure, which indicates some members of
the gallinaceous tribe from their callow infancy.
"I suppose John must have stopped at the Summit on some business,"
said Mrs. Hale, "or he would have been here already. It's scarcely
worth while waiting for him, unless you choose to ride over and
meet him. You might change your dress," she continued, looking
doubtfully at Kate's costume. "Put on your riding-habit, and take
Manuel with you."
"And take the only man we have, and leave you alone?" returned Kate
"There are the Chinese field hands," said Mrs. Hale; "you must
correct your ideas, and really allow them some humanity, Kate.
John says they have a very good compulsory school system in their
own country, and can read and write."
"That would be of little use to you here alone if--if--" Kate
"If what?" said Mrs. Hale smiling. "Are you thinking of Manuel's
dreadful story of the grizzly tracks across the fields this
morning? I promise you that neither I, nor mother, nor Minnie
shall stir out of the house until you return, if you wish it."
"I wasn't thinking of that," said Kate; "though I don't believe the
beating of a gong and the using of strong language is the best way
to frighten a grizzly from the house. Besides, the Chinese are
going down the river to-day to a funeral, or a wedding, or a feast
of stolen chickens--they're all the same--and won't be here."
"Then take Manuel," repeated Mrs. Hale. "We have the Chinese
servants and Indian Molly in the house to protect us from Heaven
knows what! I have the greatest confidence in Chy-Lee as a
warrior, and in Chinese warfare generally. One has only to hear
him pipe in time of peace to imagine what a terror he might become
in war time. Indeed, anything more deadly and soul-harrowing than
that love song he sang for us last night I cannot conceive. But
really, Kate, I am not afraid to stay alone. You know what John
says: we ought to be always prepared for anything that might
"My dear Josie," returned Kate, putting her arm around her sister's
waist, "I am perfectly convinced that if three-fingered Jack, or
two-toed Bill, or even Joaquim Murietta himself, should step, red-
handed, on that veranda, you would gently invite him to take a cup
of tea, inquire about the state of the road, and refrain delicately
from any allusions to the sheriff. But I shan't take Manuel from
you. I really cannot undertake to look after his morals at the
station, and keep him from drinking aguardiente with suspicious
characters at the bar. It is true he 'kisses my hand' in his
speech, even when it is thickest, and offers his back to me for a
horse-block, but I think I prefer the sober and honest familiarity
of even that Pike County landlord who is satisfied to say, 'Jump,
girl, and I'll ketch ye!'"
"I hope you didn't change your manner to either of them for that,"
said Mrs. Hale with a faint sigh. "John wants to be good friends
with them, and they are behaving quite decently lately, considering
that they can't speak a grammatical sentence nor know the use of a
"And now the man puts on gloves and a tall hat to come here on
Sundays, and the woman won't call until you've called first,"
retorted Kate; "perhaps you call that improvement. The fact is,
Josephine," continued the young girl, folding her arms demurely,
"we might as well admit it at once--these people don't like us."
"That's impossible!" said Mrs. Hale, with sublime simplicity. "You
don't like them, you mean."
"I like them better than you do, Josie, and that's the reason why I
feel it and YOU don't." She checked herself, and after a pause
resumed in a lighter tone: "No; I sha'n't go to the station; I'll
commune with nature to-day, and won't 'take any humanity in mine,
thank you,' as Bill the driver says. Adios."
"I wish Kate would not use that dreadful slang, even in jest," said
Mrs. Scott, in her rocking-chair at the French window, when
Josephine reentered the parlor as her sister walked briskly away.
"I am afraid she is being infected by the people at the station.
She ought to have a change."
"I was just thinking," said Josephine, looking abstractedly at her
mother, "that I would try to get John to take her to San Francisco
this winter. The Careys are expected, you know; she might visit
"I'm afraid, if she stays here much longer, she won't care to see
them at all. She seems to care for nothing now that she ever liked
before," returned the old lady ominously.
Meantime the subject of these criticisms was carrying away her own
reflections tightly buttoned up in her short jacket. She had
driven back her dog Spot--another one of her disillusions, who,
giving way to his lower nature, had once killed a sheep--as she did
not wish her Jacques-like contemplation of any wounded deer to be
inconsistently interrupted by a fresh outrage from her companion.
The air was really very chilly, and for the first time in her
mountain experience the direct rays of the sun seemed to be shorn
of their power. This compelled her to walk more briskly than she
was conscious of, for in less than an hour she came suddenly and
breathlessly upon the mouth of the canyon, or natural gateway to
To her always a profound spectacle of mountain magnificence, it
seemed to-day almost terrible in its cold, strong grandeur. The
narrowing pass was choked for a moment between two gigantic
buttresses of granite, approaching each other so closely at their
towering summits that trees growing in opposite clefts of the rock
intermingled their branches and pointed the soaring Gothic arch of
a stupendous gateway. She raised her eyes with a quickly beating
heart. She knew that the interlacing trees above her were as large
as those she had just quitted; she knew also that the point where
they met was only half-way up the cliff, for she had once gazed
down upon them, dwindled to shrubs from the airy summit; she knew
that their shaken cones fell a thousand feet perpendicularly, or
bounded like shot from the scarred walls they bombarded. She
remembered that one of these pines, dislodged from its high
foundations, had once dropped like a portcullis in the archway,
blocking the pass, and was only carried afterwards by assault of
steel and fire. Bending her head mechanically, she ran swiftly
through the shadowy passage, and halted only at the beginning of
the ascent on the other side.
It was here that the actual position of the plateau, so indefinite
of approach, began to be realized. It now appeared an independent
elevation, surrounded on three sides by gorges and watercourses, so
narrow as to be overlooked from the principal mountain range, with
which it was connected by a long canyon that led to the ridge. At
the outlet of this canyon--in bygone ages a mighty river--it had
the appearance of having been slowly raised by the diluvium of that
river, and the debris washed down from above--a suggestion repeated
in miniature by the artificial plateaus of excavated soil raised
before the mouths of mining tunnels in the lower flanks of the
mountain. It was the realization of a fact--often forgotten by the
dwellers in Eagle's Court--that the valley below them, which was
their connecting link with the surrounding world, was only reached
by ascending the mountain, and the nearest road was over the higher
mountain ridge. Never before had this impressed itself so strongly
upon the young girl as when she turned that morning to look upon
the plateau below her. It seemed to illustrate the conviction that
had been slowly shaping itself out of her reflections on the
conversation of that morning. It was possible that the perfect
understanding of a higher life was only reached from a height still
greater, and that to those half-way up the mountain the summit was
never as truthfully revealed as to the humbler dwellers in the
I do not know that these profound truths prevented her from
gathering some quaint ferns and berries, or from keeping her calm
gray eyes open to certain practical changes that were taking place
around her. She had noticed a singular thickening in the
atmosphere that seemed to prevent the passage of the sun's rays,
yet without diminishing the transparent quality of the air. The
distant snow-peaks were as plainly seen, though they appeared as if
in moonlight. This seemed due to no cloud or mist, but rather to a
fading of the sun itself. The occasional flurry of wings overhead,
the whirring of larger birds in the cover, and a frequent rustling
in the undergrowth, as of the passage of some stealthy animal,
began equally to attract her attention. It was so different from
the habitual silence of these sedate solitudes. Kate had no vague
fear of wild beasts; she had been long enough a mountaineer to
understand the general immunity enjoyed by the unmolesting
wayfarer, and kept her way undismayed. She was descending an
abrupt trail when she was stopped by a sudden crash in the bushes.
It seemed to come from the opposite incline, directly in a line
with her, and apparently on the very trail that she was pursuing.
The crash was then repeated again and again lower down, as of a
descending body. Expecting the apparition of some fallen tree, or
detached boulder bursting through the thicket, in its way to the
bottom of the gulch, she waited. The foliage was suddenly brushed
aside, and a large grizzly bear half rolled, half waddled, into the
trail on the opposite side of the hill. A few moments more would
have brought them face to face at the foot of the gulch; when she
stopped there were not fifty yards between them.
She did not scream; she did not faint; she was not even frightened.
There did not seem to be anything terrifying in this huge, stupid
beast, who, arrested by the rustle of a stone displaced by her
descending feet, rose slowly on his haunches and gazed at her with
small, wondering eyes. Nor did it seem strange to her, seeing that
he was in her way, to pick up a stone, throw it in his direction,
and say simply, "Sho! get away!" as she would have done to an
intruding cow. Nor did it seem odd that he should actually "go
away" as he did, scrambling back into the bushes again, and
disappearing like some grotesque figure in a transformation scene.
It was not until after he had gone that she was taken with a slight
nervousness and giddiness, and retraced her steps somewhat
hurriedly, shying a little at every rustle in the thicket. By the
time she had reached the great gateway she was doubtful whether to
be pleased or frightened at the incident, but she concluded to keep
it to herself.
It was still intensely cold. The light of the midday sun had
decreased still more, and on reaching the plateau again she saw
that a dark cloud, not unlike the precursor of a thunder-storm, was
brooding over the snowy peaks beyond. In spite of the cold this
singular suggestion of summer phenomena was still borne out by the
distant smiling valley, and even in the soft grasses at her feet.
It seemed to her the crowning inconsistency of the climate, and
with a half-serious, half-playful protest on her lips she hurried
forward to seek the shelter of the house.
To Kate's surprise, the lower part of the house was deserted, but
there was an unusual activity on the floor above, and the sound of
heavy steps. There were alien marks of dusty feet on the
scrupulously clean passage, and on the first step of the stairs a
spot of blood. With a sudden genuine alarm that drove her previous
adventure from her mind, she impatiently called her sister's name.
There was a hasty yet subdued rustle of skirts on the staircase,
and Mrs. Hale, with her finger on her lip, swept Kate
unceremoniously into the sitting-room, closed the door, and leaned
back against it, with a faint smile. She had a crumpled paper in
"Don't be alarmed, but read that first," she said, handing her
sister the paper. "It was brought just now."
Kate instantly recognized her brother's distinct hand. She read
hurriedly, "The coach was robbed last night; nobody hurt. I've
lost nothing but a day's time, as this business will keep me here
until to-morrow, when Manuel can join me with a fresh horse. No
cause for alarm. As the bearer goes out of his way to bring you
this, see that he wants for nothing."
"Well," said Kate expectantly.
"Well, the 'bearer' was fired upon by the robbers, who were lurking
on the Ridge. He was wounded in the leg. Luckily he was picked up
by his friend, who was coming to meet him, and brought here as the
nearest place. He's up-stairs in the spare bed in the spare room,
with his friend, who won't leave his side. He won't even have
mother in the room. They've stopped the bleeding with John's
ambulance things, and now, Kate, here's a chance for you to show
the value of your education in the ambulance class. The ball has
got to be extracted. Here's your opportunity."
Kate looked at her sister curiously. There was a faint pink flush
on her pale cheeks, and her eyes were gently sparkling. She had
never seen her look so pretty before.
"Why not have sent Manuel for a doctor at once?" asked Kate.
"The nearest doctor is fifteen miles away, and Manuel is nowhere to
be found. Perhaps he's gone to look after the stock. There's some
talk of snow; imagine the absurdity of it!"
"But who are they?"
"They speak of themselves as 'friends,' as if it were a profession.
The wounded one was a passenger, I suppose."
"But what are they like?" continued Kate. "I suppose they're like
Mrs. Hale shrugged her shoulders.
"The wounded one, when he's not fainting away, is laughing. The
other is a creature with a moustache, and gloomy beyond expression."
"What are you going to do with them?" said Kate.
"What should I do? Even without John's letter I could not refuse
the shelter of my house to a wounded and helpless man. I shall
keep him, of course, until John comes. Why, Kate, I really believe
you are so prejudiced against these people you'd like to turn them
out. But I forget! It's because you LIKE them so well. Well, you
need not fear to expose yourself to the fascinations of the wounded
Christy Minstrel--I'm sure he's that--or to the unspeakable one,
who is shyness itself, and would not dare to raise his eyes to you."
There was a timid, hesitating step in the passage. It paused
before the door, moved away, returned, and finally asserted its
intentions in the gentlest of taps.
"It's him; I'm sure of it," said Mrs. Hale, with a suppressed
Kate threw open the door smartly, to the extreme discomfiture of a
tall, dark figure that already had slunk away from it. For all
that, he was a good-looking enough fellow, with a moustache as long
and almost as flexible as a ringlet. Kate could not help noticing
also that his hand, which was nervously pulling the moustache, was
white and thin.
"Excuse me," he stammered, without raising his eyes, "I was looking
for--for--the old lady. I--I beg your pardon. I didn't know that
you--the young ladies--company--were here. I intended--I only
wanted to say that my friend--" He stopped at the slight smile
that passed quickly over Mrs. Hale's mouth, and his pale face
reddened with an angry flush.
"I hope he is not worse," said Mrs. Hale, with more than her usual
languid gentleness. "My mother is not here at present. Can I--can
WE--this is my sister--do as well?"
Without looking up he made a constrained recognition of Kate's
presence, that embarrassed and curt as it was, had none of the
awkwardness of rusticity.
"Thank you; you're very kind. But my friend is a little stronger,
and if you can lend me an extra horse I'll try to get him on the
"But you surely will not take him away from us so soon?" said Mrs.
Hale, with a languid look of alarm, in which Kate, however,
detected a certain real feeling. "Wait at least until my husband
"He won't be here to-morrow," said the stranger hastily. He
stopped, and as quickly corrected himself. "That is, his business
is so very uncertain, my friend says."
Only Kate noticed the slip; but she noticed also that her sister
was apparently unconscious of it. "You think," she said, "that Mr.
Hale may be delayed?"
He turned upon her almost brusquely. "I mean that it is already
snowing up there;" he pointed through the window to the cloud Kate
had noticed; "if it comes down lower in the pass the roads will be
blocked up. That is why it would be better for us to try and get
on at once."
"But if Mr. Hale is likely to be stopped by snow, so are you," said
Mrs. Hale playfully; "and you had better let us try to make your
friend comfortable here rather than expose him to that uncertainty
in his weak condition. We will do our best for him. My sister is
dying for an opportunity to show her skill in surgery," she
continued, with an unexpected mischievousness that only added to
Kate's surprised embarrassment. "Aren't you, Kate?"
Equivocal as the young girl knew her silence appeared, she was
unable to utter the simplest polite evasion. Some unaccountable
impulse kept her constrained and speechless. The stranger did not,
however, wait for her reply, but, casting a swift, hurried glance
around the room, said, "It's impossible; we must go. In fact, I've
already taken the liberty to order the horses round. They are at
the door now. You may be certain," he added, with quick
earnestness, suddenly lifting his dark eyes to Mrs. Hale, and as
rapidly withdrawing them, "that your horse will be returned at
once, and--and--we won't forget your kindness." He stopped and
turned towards the hall. "I--I have brought my friend down-stairs.
He wants to thank you before he goes."
As he remained standing in the hall the two women stepped to the
door. To their surprise, half reclining on a cane sofa was the
wounded man, and what could be seen of his slight figure was
wrapped in a dark serape. His beardless face gave him a quaint
boyishness quite inconsistent with the mature lines of his temples
and forehead. Pale, and in pain, as he evidently was, his blue
eyes twinkled with intense amusement. Not only did his manner
offer a marked contrast to the sombre uneasiness of his companion,
but he seemed to be the only one perfectly at his ease in the group
"It's rather rough making you come out here to see me off," he
said, with a not unmusical laugh that was very infectious, "but Ned
there, who carried me downstairs, wanted to tote me round the house
in his arms like a baby to say ta-ta to you all. Excuse my not
rising, but I feel as uncertain below as a mermaid, and as out of
my element," he added, with a mischievous glance at his friend.
"Ned concluded I must go on. But I must say good-by to the old
lady first. Ah! here she is."
To Kate's complete bewilderment, not only did the utter familiarity
of this speech, pass unnoticed and unrebuked by her sister, but
actually her own mother advanced quickly with every expression of
lively sympathy, and with the authority of her years and an almost
maternal anxiety endeavored to dissuade the invalid from going.
"This is not my house," she said, looking at her daughter, "but if
it were I should not hear of your leaving, not only to-night, but
until you were out of danger. Josephine! Kate! What are you
thinking of to permit it? Well, then I forbid it--there!"
Had they become suddenly insane, or were they bewitched by this
morose intruder and his insufferably familiar confidant? The man
was wounded, it was true; they might have to put him up in common
humanity; but here was her austere mother, who wouldn't come in the
room when Whisky Dick called on business, actually pressing both of
the invalid's hands, while her sister, who never extended a finger
to the ordinary visiting humanity of the neighborhood, looked on
with evident complacency.
The wounded man suddenly raised Mrs. Scott's hand to his lips,
kissed it gently, and, with his smile quite vanished, endeavored to
rise to his feet. "It's of no use--we must go. Give me your arm,
Ned. Quick! Are the horses there?"
"Dear me," said Mrs. Scott quickly. "I forgot to say the horse
cannot be found anywhere. Manuel must have taken him this morning
to look up the stock. But he will be back to-night certainly, and
The wounded man sank back to a sitting position. "Is Manuel your
man?" he asked grimly.
The two men exchanged glances.
"Marked on his left cheek and drinks a good deal?"
"Yes," said Kate, finding her voice. "Why?"
The amused look came back to the man's eyes. "That kind of man
isn't safe to wait for. We must take our own horse, Ned. Are you
The wounded man again attempted to rise. He fell back, but this
time quite heavily. He had fainted.
Involuntarily and simultaneously the three women rushed to his
side. "He cannot go," said Kate suddenly.
"He will be better in a moment."
"But only for a moment. Will nothing induce you to change your
As if in reply a sudden gust of wind brought a volley of rain
against the window.
"THAT will," said the stranger bitterly.
"A mile from here it is SNOW; and before we could reach the Summit
with these horses the road would be impassable."
He made a slight gesture to himself, as if accepting an inevitable
defeat, and turned to his companion, who was slowly reviving under
the active ministration of the two women. The wounded man looked
around with a weak smile. "This is one way of going off," he said
faintly, "but I could do this sort of thing as well on the road."
"You can do nothing now," said his friend, decidedly. "Before we
get to the Gate the road will be impassable for our horses."
"For ANY horses?" asked Kate.
"For any horses. For any man or beast I might say. Where we
cannot get out, no one can get in," he added, as if answering her
thoughts. "I am afraid that you won't see your brother to-morrow
morning. But I'll reconnoitre as soon as I can do so without
torturing HIM," he said, looking anxiously at the helpless man;
"he's got about his share of pain, I reckon, and the first thing is
to get him easier." It was the longest speech he had made to her;
it was the first time he had fairly looked her in the face. His
shy restlessness had suddenly given way to dogged resignation, less
abstracted, but scarcely more flattering to his entertainers.
Lifting his companion gently in his arms, as if he had been a
child, he reascended the staircase, Mrs. Scott and the hastily-
summoned Molly following with overflowing solicitude. As soon as
they were alone in the parlor Mrs. Hale turned to her sister: "Only
that our guests seemed to be as anxious to go just now as you were
to pack them off, I should have been shocked at your inhospitality.
What has come over you, Kate? These are the very people you have
reproached me so often with not being civil enough to."
"But WHO are they?"
"How do I know? There is YOUR BROTHER'S letter."
She usually spoke of her husband as "John." This slight shifting
of relationship and responsibility to the feminine mind was
significant. Kate was a little frightened and remorseful.
"I only meant you don't even know their names."
"That wasn't necessary for giving them a bed and bandages. Do you
suppose the good Samaritan ever asked the wounded Jew's name, and
that the Levite did not excuse himself because the thieves had
taken the poor man's card-case? Do the directions, 'In case of
accident,' in your ambulance rules, read, 'First lay the sufferer
on his back and inquire his name and family connections'? Besides,
you can call one 'Ned' and the other 'George,' if you like."
"Oh, you know what I mean," said Kate, irrelevantly. "Which is
"George is the wounded man," said Mrs. Hale; "NOT the one who
talked to you more than he did to any one else. I suppose the poor
man was frightened and read dismissal in your eyes."
"I wish John were here."
"I don't think we have anything to fear in his absence from men
whose only wish is to get away from us. If it is a question of
propriety, my dear Kate, surely there is the presence of mother to
prevent any scandal--although really her own conduct with the
wounded one is not above suspicion," she added, with that novel
mischievousness that seemed a return of her lost girlhood. "We
must try to do the best we can with them and for them," she said
decidedly, "and meantime I'll see if I can't arrange John's room
"Oh, mother is perfectly satisfied; indeed, suggested it. It's
larger and will hold two beds, for 'Ned,' the friend, must attend
to him at night. And, Kate, don't you think, if you're not going
out again, you might change your costume? It does very well while
we are alone--"
"Well," said Kate indignantly, "as I am not going into his room--"
"I'm not so sure about that, if we can't get a regular doctor. But
he is very restless, and wanders all over the house like a timid
and apologetic spaniel."
"Why 'Ned.' But I must go and look after the patient. I suppose
they've got him safe in his bed again," and with a nod to her
sister she tripped up-stairs.
Uncomfortable and embarrassed, she knew not why, Kate sought her
mother. But that good lady was already in attendance on the
patient, and Kate hurried past that baleful centre of attraction
with a feeling of loneliness and strangeness she had never
experienced before. Entering her own room she went to the window--
that first and last refuge of the troubled mind--and gazed out.
Turning her eyes in the direction of her morning's walk, she
started back with a sense of being dazzled. She rubbed first her
eyes and then the rain-dimmed pane. It was no illusion! The whole
landscape, so familiar to her, was one vast field of dead,
colorless white! Trees, rocks, even distance itself, had vanished
in those few hours. An even shadowless, motionless white sea
filled the horizon. On either side a vast wall of snow seemed to
shut out the world like a shroud. Only the green plateau before
her, with its sloping meadows and fringe of pines and cottonwood,
lay alone like a summer island in this frozen sea.
A sudden desire to view this phenomenon more closely, and to learn
for herself the limits of this new tethered life, completely
possessed her, and, accustomed to act upon her independent
impulses, she seized a hooded waterproof cloak, and slipped out of
the house unperceived. The rain was falling steadily along the
descending trail where she walked, but beyond, scarcely a mile
across the chasm, the wintry distance began to confuse her brain
with the inextricable swarming of snow. Hurrying down with
feverish excitement, she at last came in sight of the arching
granite portals of their domain. But her first glance through the
gateway showed it closed as if with a white portcullis. Kate
remembered that the trail began to ascend beyond the arch, and knew
that what she saw was only the mountain side she had partly climbed
this morning. But the snow had already crept down its flank, and
the exit by trail was practically closed. Breathlessly making her
way back to the highest part of the plateau--the cliff behind the
house that here descended abruptly to the rain-dimmed valley--she
gazed at the dizzy depths in vain for some undiscovered or
forgotten trail along its face. But a single glance convinced her
of its inaccessibility. The gateway was indeed their only outlet
to the plain below. She looked back at the falling snow beyond
until she fancied she could see in the crossing and recrossing
lines the moving meshes of a fateful web woven around them by
viewless but inexorable fingers.
Half frightened, she was turning away, when she perceived, a few
paces distant, the figure of the stranger, "Ned," also apparently
absorbed in the gloomy prospect. He was wrapped in the clinging
folds of a black serape braided with silver; the broad flap of a
slouch hat beaten back by the wind exposed the dark, glistening
curls on his white forehead. He was certainly very handsome and
picturesque, and that apparently without effort or consciousness.
Neither was there anything in his costume or appearance
inconsistent with his surroundings, or, even with what Kate could
judge were his habits or position. Nevertheless, she instantly
decided that he was TOO handsome and too picturesque, without
suspecting that her ideas of the limits of masculine beauty were
merely personal experience.
As he turned away from the cliff they were brought face to face.
"It doesn't look very encouraging over there," he said quietly, as
if the inevitableness of the situation had relieved him of his
previous shyness and effort; "it's even worse than I expected. The
snow must have begun there last night, and it looks as if it meant
to stay." He stopped for a moment, and then, lifting his eyes to
"I suppose you know what this means?"
"I don't understand you."
"I thought not. Well! it means that you are absolutely cut off
here from any communication or intercourse with any one outside of
that canyon. By this time the snow is five feet deep over the only
trail by which one can pass in and out of that gateway. I am not
alarming you, I hope, for there is no real physical danger; a place
like this ought to be well garrisoned, and certainly is self-
supporting so far as the mere necessities and even comforts are
concerned. You have wood, water, cattle, and game at your command,
but for two weeks at least you are completely isolated."
"For two weeks," said Kate, growing pale--"and my brother!"
"He knows all by this time, and is probably as assured as I am of
the safety of his family."
"For two weeks," continued Kate; "impossible! You don't know my
brother! He will find some way to get to us."
"I hope so," returned the stranger gravely, "for what is possible
for him is possible for us."
"Then you are anxious to get away," Kate could not help saying.
The reply was not discourteous in manner, but was so far from
gallant that Kate felt a new and inconsistent resentment. Before
she could say anything he added, "And I hope you will remember,
whatever may happen, that I did my best to avoid staying here
longer than was necessary to keep my friend from bleeding to death
in the road."
"Certainly," said Kate; then added awkwardly, "I hope he'll be
better soon." She was silent, and then, quickening her pace, said
hurriedly, "I must tell my sister this dreadful news."
"I think she is prepared for it. If there is anything I can do to
help you I hope you will let me know. Perhaps I may be of some
service. I shall begin by exploring the trails to-morrow, for the
best service we can do you possibly is to take ourselves off; but I
can carry a gun, and the woods are full of game driven down from
the mountains. Let me show you something you may not have
noticed." He stopped, and pointed to a small knoll of sheltered
shrubbery and granite on the opposite mountain, which still
remained black against the surrounding snow. It seemed to be
thickly covered with moving objects. "They are wild animals driven
out of the snow," said the stranger. "That larger one is a
grizzly; there is a panther, wolves, wild cats, a fox, and some
"An ill-assorted party," said the young girl.
"Ill luck makes them companions. They are too frightened to hurt
one another now."
"But they will eat each other later on," said Kate, stealing a
glance at her companion.
He lifted his long lashes and met her eyes. "Not on a haven of
Kate found her sister, as the stranger had intimated, fully
prepared. A hasty inventory of provisions and means of subsistence
showed that they had ample resources for a much longer isolation.
"They tell me it is by no means an uncommon case, Kate; somebody
over at somebody's place was snowed in for four weeks, and now it
appears that even the Summit House is not always accessible. John
ought to have known it when he bought the place; in fact, I was
ashamed to admit that he did not. But that is like John to prefer
his own theories to the experience of others. However, I don't
suppose we should even notice the privation except for the mails.
It will be a lesson to John, though. As Mr. Lee says, he is on the
outside, and can probably go wherever he likes from the Summit
except to come here."
"Mr. Lee?" echoed Kate.
"Yes, the wounded one; and the other's name is Falkner. I asked
them in order that you might be properly introduced. There were
very respectable Falkners in Charlestown, you remember; I thought
you might warm to the name, and perhaps trace the connection, now
that you are such good friends. It's providential they are here,
as we haven't got a horse or a man in the place since Manuel
disappeared, though Mr. Falkner says he can't be far away, or they
would have met him on the trail if he had gone towards the Summit."
"Did they say anything more of Manuel?"
"Nothing; though I am inclined to agree with you that he isn't
trustworthy. But that again is the result of John's idea of
employing native skill at the expense of retaining native habits."
The evening closed early, and with no diminution in the falling
rain and rising wind. Falkner kept his word, and unostentatiously
performed the out-door work in the barn and stables, assisted by
the only Chinese servant remaining, and under the advice and
supervision of Kate. Although he seemed to understand horses, she
was surprised to find that he betrayed a civic ignorance of the
ordinary details of the farm and rustic household. It was quite
impossible that she should retain her distrustful attitude, or he
his reserve in their enforced companionship. They talked freely of
subjects suggested by the situation, Falkner exhibiting a general
knowledge and intuition of things without parade or dogmatism.
Doubtful of all versatility as Kate was, she could not help
admitting to herself that his truths were none the less true for
their quantity or that he got at them without ostentatious
processes. His talk certainly was more picturesque than her
brother's, and less subduing to her faculties. John had always
When they returned to the house he did not linger in the parlor or
sitting-room, but at once rejoined his friend. When dinner was
ready in the dining-room, a little more deliberately arranged and
ornamented than usual, the two women were somewhat surprised to
receive an excuse from Falkner, begging them to allow him for the
present to take his meals with the patient, and thus save the
necessity of another attendant.
"It is all shyness, Kate," said Mrs. Hale, confidently, "and must
not be permitted for a moment."
"I'm sure I should be quite willing to stay with the poor boy
myself," said Mrs. Scott, simply, "and take Mr. Falkner's place
while he dines."
"You are too willing, mother," said Mrs. Hale, pertly, "and your
'poor boy,' as you call him, will never see thirty-five again."
"He will never see any other birthday!" retorted her mother,
"unless you keep him more quiet. He only talks when you're in the
"He wants some relief to his friend's long face and moustachios
that make him look prematurely in mourning," said Mrs. Hale, with a
slight increase of animation. "I don't propose to leave them too
much together. After dinner we'll adjourn to their room and
lighten it up a little. You must come, Kate, to look at the
patient, and counteract the baleful effects of my frivolity."
Mrs. Hale's instincts were truer than her mother's experience; not
only that the wounded man's eyes became brighter under the
provocation of her presence, but it was evident that his naturally
exuberant spirits were a part of his vital strength, and were
absolutely essential to his quick recovery. Encouraged by
Falkner's grave and practical assistance, which she could not
ignore, Kate ventured to make an examination of Lee's wound. Even
to her unpractised eye it was less serious than at first appeared.
The great loss of blood had been due to the laceration of certain
small vessels below the knee, but neither artery nor bone was
injured. A recurrence of the haemorrhage or fever was the only
thing to be feared, and these could be averted by bandaging,
repose, and simple nursing.
The unfailing good humor of the patient under this manipulation,
the quaint originality of his speech, the freedom of his fancy,
which was, however, always controlled by a certain instinctive
tact, began to affect Kate nearly as it had the others. She found
herself laughing over the work she had undertaken in a pure sense
of duty; she joined in the hilarity produced by Lee's affected
terror of her surgical mania, and offered to undo the bandages in
search of the thimble he declared she had left in the wound with a
view to further experiments.
"You ought to broaden your practice," he suggested. "A good deal
might be made out of Ned and a piece of soap left carelessly on the
first step of the staircase, while mountains of surgical
opportunities lie in a humble orange peel judiciously exposed.
Only I warn you that you wouldn't find him as docile as I am.
Decoyed into a snow-drift and frozen, you might get some valuable
experiences in resuscitation by thawing him."
"I fancied you had done that already, Kate," whispered Mrs. Hale.
"Freezing is the new suggestion for painless surgery," said Lee,
coming to Kate's relief with ready tact, "only the knowledge should
be more generally spread. There was a man up at Strawberry fell
under a sledge-load of wood in the snow. Stunned by the shock, he
was slowly freezing to death, when, with a tremendous effort, he
succeeded in freeing himself all but his right leg, pinned down by
a small log. His axe happened to have fallen within reach, and a
few blows on the log freed him."
"And saved the poor fellow's life," said Mrs. Scott, who was
listening with sympathizing intensity.
"At the expense of his LEFT LEG, which he had unknowingly cut off
under the pleasing supposition that it was a log," returned Lee
Nevertheless, in a few moments he managed to divert the slightly
shocked susceptibilities of the old lady with some raillery of
himself, and did not again interrupt the even good-humored
communion of the party. The rain beating against the windows and
the fire sparkling on the hearth seemed to lend a charm to their
peculiar isolation, and it was not until Mrs. Scott rose with a
warning that they were trespassing upon the rest of their patient
that they discovered that the evening had slipped by unnoticed.
When the door at last closed on the bright, sympathetic eyes of the
two young women and the motherly benediction of the elder, Falkner
walked to the window, and remained silent, looking into the
darkness. Suddenly he turned bitterly to his companion.
"This is just h-ll, George."
George Lee, with a smile on his boyish face, lazily moved his head.
"I don't know! If it wasn't for the old woman, who is the one
solid chunk of absolute goodness here, expecting nothing, wanting
nothing, it would be good fun enough! These two women, cooped up
in this house, wanted excitement. They've got it! That man Hale
wanted to show off by going for us; he's had his chance, and will
have it again before I've done with him. That d--d fool of a
messenger wanted to go out of his way to exchange shots with me; I
reckon he's the most satisfied of the lot! I don't know why YOU
should growl. You did your level best to get away from here, and
the result is, that little Puritan is ready to worship you."
"Yes--but this playing it on them--George--this--"
"Who's playing it? Not you; I see you've given away our names
"I couldn't lie, and they know nothing by that."
"Do you think they would be happier by knowing it? Do you think
that soft little creature would be as happy as she was to-night if
she knew that her husband had been indirectly the means of laying
me by the heels here? Where is the swindle? This hole in my leg?
If you had been five minutes under that girl's d--d sympathetic
fingers you'd have thought it was genuine. Is it in our trying to
get away? Do you call that ten-feet drift in the pass a swindle?
Is it in the chance of Hale getting back while we're here? That's
real enough, isn't it? I say, Ned, did you ever give your
unfettered intellect to the contemplation of THAT?"
Falkner did not reply. There was an interval of silence, but he
could see from the movement of George's shoulders that he was
shaking with suppressed laughter.
"Fancy Mrs. Hale archly introducing her husband! My offering him a
chair, but being all the time obliged to cover him with a derringer
under the bedclothes. Your rushing in from your peaceful pastoral
pursuits in the barn, with a pitchfork in one hand and the girl in
the other, and dear old mammy sympathizing all round and trying to
make everything comfortable."
"I should not be alive to see it, George," said Falkner gloomily.
"You'd manage to pitchfork me and those two women on Hale's horse
and ride away; that's what you'd do, or I don't know you! Look
here, Ned," he added more seriously, "the only swindling was our
bringing that note here. That was YOUR idea. You thought it would
remove suspicion, and as you believed I was bleeding to death you
played that game for all it was worth to save me. You might have
done what I asked you to do--propped me up in the bushes, and got
away yourself. I was good for a couple of shots yet, and after
that--what mattered? That night, the next day, the next time I
take the road, or a year hence? It will come when it will come,
all the same!"
He did not speak bitterly, nor relax his smile. Falkner, without
speaking, slid his hand along the coverlet. Lee grasped it, and
their hands remained clasped together for a few minutes in silence.
"How is this to end? We cannot go on here in this way," said
"If we cannot get away it must go on. Look here, Ned. I don't
reckon to take anything out of this house that I didn't bring in
it, or isn't freely offered to me; yet I don't otherwise, you
understand, intend making myself out a d--d bit better than I am.
That's the only excuse I have for not making myself out JUST WHAT I
am. I don't know the fellow who's obliged to tell every one the
last company he was in, or the last thing he did! Do you suppose
even these pretty little women tell US their whole story? Do you
fancy that this St. John in the wilderness is canonized in his
family? Perhaps, when I take the liberty to intrude in his
affairs, as he has in mine, he'd see he isn't. I don't blame you
for being sensitive, Ned. It's natural. When a man lives outside
the revised statutes of his own State he is apt to be awfully fine
on points of etiquette in his own household. As for me, I find it
rather comfortable here. The beds of other people's making strike
me as being more satisfactory than my own. Good-night."
In a few moments he was sleeping the peaceful sleep of that youth
which seemed to be his own dominant quality. Falkner stood for a
little space and watched him, following the boyish lines of his
cheek on the pillow, from the shadow of the light brown lashes
under his closed lids to the lifting of his short upper lip over
his white teeth, with his regular respiration. Only a sharp
accenting of the line of nostril and jaw and a faint depression of
the temple betrayed his already tried manhood.
The house had long sunk to repose when Falkner returned to the
window, and remained looking out upon the storm. Suddenly he
extinguished the light, and passing quickly to the bed laid his
hand upon the sleeper. Lee opened his eyes instantly.
"Are you awake?"
"Somebody is trying to get into the house!"
"Not HIM, eh?" said Lee gayly.
"No; two men. Mexicans, I think. One looks like Manuel."
"Ah," said Lee, drawing himself up to a sitting posture.
"Don't you see? He believes the women are alone."
"The dog--d--d hound!"
"Speak respectfully of one of my people, if you please, and hand me
my derringer. Light the candle again, and open the door. Let them
get in quietly. They'll come here first. It's HIS room, you
understand, and if there's any money it's here. Anyway, they must
pass here to get to the women's rooms. Leave Manuel to me, and you
take care of the other."
"Manuel knows the house, and will come first. When he's fairly in
the room shut the door and go for the other. But no noise. This
is just one of the SW-EETEST things out--if it's done properly."
"But YOU, George?"
"If I couldn't manage that fellow without turning down the
bedclothes I'd kick myself. Hush. Steady now."
He lay down and shut his eyes as if in natural repose. Only his
right hand, carelessly placed under his pillow, closed on the
handle of his pistol. Falkner quietly slipped into the passage.
The light of the candle faintly illuminated the floor and opposite
wall, but left it on either side in pitchy obscurity.
For some moments the silence was broken only by the sound of the
rain without. The recumbent figure in bed seemed to have actually
succumbed to sleep. The multitudinous small noises of a house in
repose might have been misinterpreted by ears less keen than the
sleeper's; but when the apparent creaking of a far-off shutter was
followed by the sliding apparition of a dark head of tangled hair
at the door, Lee had not been deceived, and was as prepared as if
he had seen it. Another step, and the figure entered the room.
The door closed instantly behind it. The sound of a heavy body
struggling against the partition outside followed, and then
The intruder turned, and violently grasped the handle of the door,
but recoiled at a quiet voice from the bed.
"Drop that, and come here."
He started back with an exclamation. The sleeper's eyes were wide
open; the sleeper's extended arm and pistol covered him.
"Silence! or I'll let that candle shine through you!"
"Yes, captain!" growled the astounded and frightened half-breed.
"I didn't know you were here."
Lee raised himself, and grasped the long whip in his left hand and
whirled it round his head.
"WILL YOU dry up?"
The man sank back against the wall in silent terror.
"Open that door now--softly."
Manuel obeyed with trembling fingers.
"Ned" said Lee in a low voice, "bring him in here--quick."
There was a slight rustle, and Falkner appeared, backing in another
gasping figure, whose eyes were starting under the strong grasp of
the captor at his throat.
"Silence," said Lee, "all of you."
There was a breathless pause. The sound of a door hesitatingly
opened in the passage broke the stillness, followed by the gentle
voice of Mrs. Scott.
"Is anything the matter?"
Lee made a slight gesture of warning to Falkner, of menace to the
others. "Everything's the matter," he called out cheerily. "Ned's
managed to half pull down the house trying to get at something from
"I hope he has not hurt himself," broke in another voice
"Answer, you clumsy villain," whispered Lee, with twinkling eyes.
"I'm all right, thank you," responded Falkner, with unaffected
There was a slight murmuring of voices, and then the door was heard
to close. Lee turned to Falkner.
"Disarm that hound and turn him loose outside, and make no noise.
And you, Manuel! tell him what his and your chances are if he shows
his black face here again."
Manuel cast a single, terrified, supplicating glance, more
suggestive than words, at his confederate, as Falkner shoved him
before him from the room. The next moment they were silently
descending the stairs.
"May I go too, captain?" entreated Manuel. "I swear to God--"
"Shut the door!" The man obeyed.
"Now, then," said Lee, with a broad, gratified smile, laying down
his whip and pistol within reach, and comfortably settling the
pillows behind his back, "we'll have a quiet confab. A sort of
old-fashioned talk, eh? You're not looking well, Manuel. You're
drinking too much again. It spoils your complexion."
"Let me go, captain," pleaded the man, emboldened by the good-
humored voice, but not near enough to notice a peculiar light in
the speaker's eye.
"You've only just come, Manuel; and at considerable trouble, too.
Well, what have you got to say? What's all this about? What are
you doing here?"
The captured man shuffled his feet nervously, and only uttered an
uneasy laugh of coarse discomfiture.
"I see. You're bashful. Well, I'll help you along. Come! You
knew that Hale was away and these women were here without a man to
help them. You thought you'd find some money here, and have your
own way generally, eh?"
The tone of Lee's voice inspired him to confidence; unfortunately,
it inspired him with familiarity also.
"I reckoned I had the right to a little fun on my own account, cap.
I reckoned ez one gentleman in the profession wouldn't interfere
with another gentleman's little game," he continued coarsely.
"Up, I say!"
Manuel stood up and glanced at him.
"Utter a cry that might frighten these women, and by the living God
they'll rush in here only to find you lying dead on the floor of
the house you'd have polluted."
He grasped the whip and laid the lash of it heavily twice over the
ruffian's shoulders. Writhing in suppressed agony, the man fell
imploringly on his knees.
"Now, listen!" said Lee, softly twirling the whip in the air. "I
want to refresh your memory. Did you ever learn, when you were
with me--before I was obliged to kick you out of gentlemen's
company--to break into a private house? Answer!"
"No," stammered the wretch.
"Did you ever learn to rob a woman, a child, or any but a man, and
that face to face?"
"No," repeated Manuel.
"Did you ever learn from me to lay a finger upon a woman, old or
young, in anger or kindness?"
"Then, my poor Manuel, it's as I feared; civilization has ruined
you. Farming and a simple, bucolic life have perverted your
morals. So you were running off with the stock and that mustang,
when you got stuck in the snow; and the luminous idea of this
little game struck you? Eh? That was another mistake, Manuel; I
never allowed you to think when you were with me."
"Who's your friend?"
"A d--d cowardly nigger from the Summit."
"I agree with you for once; but he hasn't had a very brilliant
example. Where's he gone now?"
"To h-ll, for all I care!"
"Then I want you to go with him. Listen. If there's a way out of
the place, you know it or can find it. I give you two days to do
it--you and he. At the end of that time the order will be to shoot
you on sight. Now take off your boots."
The man's dark face visibly whitened, his teeth chattered in
"I'm not going to shoot you now," said Lee, smiling, "so you will
have a chance to die with your boots on,* if you are superstitious.
I only want you to exchange them for that pair of Hale's in the
corner. The fact is I have taken a fancy to yours. That fashion
of wearing the stockings outside strikes me as one of the neatest
* "To die with one's boots on." A synonym for death by violence,
popular among Southwestern desperadoes, and the subject of
Manuel suddenly drew off his boots with their muffled covering, and
put on the ones designated.
"Now open the door."
He did so. Falkner was already waiting at the threshold, "Turn
Manuel loose with the other, Ned, but disarm him first. They might
quarrel. The habit of carrying arms, Manuel," added Lee, as
Falkner took a pistol and bowie-knife from the half-breed, "is of
itself provocative of violence, and inconsistent with a bucolic and
When Falkner returned he said hurriedly to his companion, "Do you
think it wise, George, to let those hell-hounds loose? Good God!
I could scarcely let my grip of his throat go, when I thought of
what they were hunting."
"My dear Ned," said Lee, luxuriously ensconcing himself under the
bedclothes again with a slight shiver of delicious warmth, "I must
warn you against allowing the natural pride of a higher walk to
prejudice you against the general level of our profession. Indeed,
I was quite struck with the justice of Manuel's protest that I was
interfering with certain rude processes of his own towards results
aimed at by others."
"George!" interrupted Falkner, almost savagely.
"Well. I admit it's getting rather late in the evening for pure
philosophical inquiry, and you are tired. Practically, then, it
WAS wise to let them get away before they discovered two things.
One, our exact relations here with these women; and the other, HOW
MANY of us were here. At present they think we are three or four
in possession and with the consent of the women."
"They are paying us the highest compliment they can conceive of by
supposing us cleverer scoundrels than themselves. You are very
"If they escape and tell their story?"
"We shall have the rare pleasure of knowing we are better than
people believe us. And now put those boots away somewhere where we
can produce them if necessary, as evidence of Manuel's evening
call. At present we'll keep the thing quiet, and in the early
morning you can find out where they got in and remove any traces
they have left. It is no use to frighten the women. There's no
fear of their returning."
"And if they get away?"
"We can follow in their tracks."
"If Manuel gives the alarm?"
"With his burglarious boots left behind in the house? Not much!
Good-night, Ned. Go to bed."
With these words Lee turned on his side and quietly resumed his
interrupted slumber. Falkner did not, however, follow this
sensible advice. When he was satisfied that his friend was
sleeping he opened the door softly and looked out. He did not
appear to be listening, for his eyes were fixed upon a small pencil
of light that stole across the passage from the foot of Kate's
door. He watched it until it suddenly disappeared, when, leaving
the door partly open, he threw himself on his couch without
removing his clothes. The slight movement awakened the sleeper,
who was beginning to feel the accession of fever. He moved
"George," said Falkner, softly.
"Where was it we passed that old Mission Church on the road one
dark night, and saw the light burning before the figure of the
Virgin through the window?"
There was a moment of crushing silence. "Does that mean you're
wanting to light the candle again?"
"Then don't lie there inventing sacrilegious conundrums, but go to
Nevertheless, in the morning his fever was slightly worse. Mrs.
Hale, offering her condolence, said, "I know that you have not been
resting well, for even after your friend met with that mishap in
the hall, I heard your voices, and Kate says your door was open all
night. You have a little fever too, Mr. Falkner."
George looked curiously at Falkner's pale face--it was burning.
The speed and fury with which Clinch's cavalcade swept on in the
direction of the mysterious shot left Hale no chance for
reflection. He was conscious of shouting incoherently with the
others, of urging his horse irresistibly forward, of momentarily
expecting to meet or overtake something, but without any further
thought. The figures of Clinch and Rawlins immediately before him
shut out the prospect of the narrowing trail. Once only, taking
advantage of a sudden halt that threw them confusedly together, he
managed to ask a question.
"Lost their track--found it again!" shouted the ostler, as Clinch,
with a cry like the baying of a hound, again darted forward. Their
horses were panting and trembling under them, the ascent seemed to
be growing steeper, a singular darkness, which even the density of
the wood did not sufficiently account for, surrounded them, but
still their leader madly urged them on. To Hale's returning senses
they did not seem in a condition to engage a single resolute man,
who might have ambushed in the woods or beaten them in detail in
the narrow gorge, but in another instant the reason of their
furious haste was manifest. Spurring his horse ahead, Clinch
dashed out into the open with a cheering shout--a shout that as
quickly changed to a yell of imprecation. They were on the Ridge
in a blinding snow-storm! The road had already vanished under
their feet, and with it the fresh trail they had so closely
followed! They stood helplessly on the shore of a trackless white
sea, blank and spotless of any trace or sign of the fugitives.
"'Pears to me, boys," said the ostler, suddenly ranging before
them, "ef you're not kalkilatin' on gittin' another party to dig ye
out, ye'd better be huntin' fodder and cover instead of road
agents. 'Skuse me, gentlemen, but I'm responsible for the hosses,
and this ain't no time for circus-ridin'. We're a matter o' six
miles from the station in a bee line."
"Back to the trail, then," said Clinch, wheeling his horse towards
the road they had just quitted.
"'Skuse me, Kernel," said the ostler, laying his hand on Clinch's
rein, "but that way only brings us back the road we kem--the stage
road--three miles further from home. That three miles is on the
divide, and by the time we get there it will be snowed up worse nor
this. The shortest cut is along the Ridge. If we hump ourselves
we ken cross the divide afore the road is blocked. And that,
'skuse me, gentlemen, is MY road."
There was no time for discussion. The road was already palpably
thickening under their feet. Hale's arm was stiffened to his side
by a wet, clinging snow-wreath. The figures of the others were
almost obliterated and shapeless. It was not snowing--it was
snowballing! The huge flakes, shaken like enormous feathers out of
a vast blue-black cloud, commingled and fell in sprays and patches.
All idea of their former pursuit was forgotten; the blind rage and
enthusiasm that had possessed them was gone. They dashed after
their new leader with only an instinct for shelter and succor.
They had not ridden long when fortunately, as it seemed to Hale,
the character of the storm changed. The snow no longer fell in
such large flakes, nor as heavily. A bitter wind succeeded; the
soft snow began to stiffen and crackle under the horses' hoofs;
they were no longer weighted and encumbered by the drifts upon
their bodies; the smaller flakes now rustled and rasped against
them like sand, or bounded from them like hail. They seemed to be
moving more easily and rapidly, their spirits were rising with the
stimulus of cold and motion, when suddenly their leader halted.
"It's no use, boys. It can't be done! This is no blizzard, but a
regular two days' snifter! It's no longer meltin', but packin' and
driftin' now. Even if we get over the divide, we're sure to be
blocked up in the pass."
It was true! To their bitter disappointment they could now see
that the snow had not really diminished in quantity, but that the
now finely-powdered particles were rapidly filling all inequalities
of the surface, packing closely against projections, and swirling
in long furrows across the levels. They looked with anxiety at
their self-constituted leader.
"We must make a break to get down in the woods again before it's
too late," he said briefly.
But they had already drifted away from the fringe of larches and
dwarf pines that marked the sides of the Ridge, and lower down
merged into the dense forest that clothed the flank of the mountain
they had lately climbed, and it was with the greatest difficulty
that they again reached it, only to find that at that point it was
too precipitous for the descent of their horses. Benumbed and
speechless, they continued to toil on, opposed to the full fury of
the stinging snow, and at times obliged to turn their horses to the
blast to keep from being blown over the Ridge. At the end of half
an hour the ostler dismounted, and, beckoning to the others, took
his horse by the bridle, and began the descent. When it came to
Hale's turn to dismount he could not help at first recoiling from
the prospect before him. The trail--if it could be so called--was
merely the track or furrow of some fallen tree dragged, by accident
or design, diagonally across the sides of the mountain. At times
it appeared scarcely a foot in width; at other times a mere
crumbling gully, or a narrow shelf made by the projections of dead
boughs and collected debris. It seemed perilous for a foot
passenger, it appeared impossible for a horse. Nevertheless, he
had taken a step forward when Clinch laid his hand on his arm.
"You'll bring up the rear," he said not unkindly, "ez you're a
stranger here. Wait until we sing out to you."
"But if I prefer to take the same risks as you all?" said Hale
"You kin," said Clinch grimly. "But I reckoned, as you wern't
familiar with this sort o' thing, you wouldn't keer, by any
foolishness o' yours, to stampede the rocks ahead of us, and break
down the trail, or send down an avalanche on top of us. But just
ez you like."
"I will wait, then," said Hale hastily.
The rebuke, however, did him good service. It preoccupied his
mind, so that it remained unaffected by the dizzy depths, and
enabled him to abandon himself mechanically to the sagacity of his
horse, who was contented simply to follow the hoofprints of the
preceding animal, and in a few moments they reached the broader
trail without a mishap. A discussion regarding their future
movements was already taking place. The impossibility of regaining
the station at the Summit was admitted; the way down the mountain
to the next settlement was still left to them, or the adjacent
woods, if they wished for an encampment. The ostler once more
"'Skuse me, gentlemen, but them horses don't take no pasear down
the mountain to-night. The stage-road ain't a mile off, and I
kalkilate to wait here till the up stage comes. She's bound to
stop on account of the snow; and I've done my dooty when I hand the
horses over to the driver."
"But if she hears of the block up yer, and waits at the lower
station?" said Rawlins.
"Then I've done my dooty all the same. 'Skuse me, gentlemen, but
them ez hez their own horses kin do ez they like."
As this clearly pointed to Hale, he briefly assured his companions
that he had no intention of deserting them. "If I cannot reach
Eagle's Court, I shall at least keep as near it as possible. I
suppose any messenger from my house to the Summit will learn where
I am and why I am delayed?"
"Messenger from your house!" gasped Rawlins. "Are you crazy,
stranger? Only a bird would get outer Eagle's now; and it would
hev to be an eagle at that! Between your house and the Summit the
snow must be ten feet by this time, to say nothing of the drift in
Hale felt it was the truth. At any other time he would have
worried over this unexpected situation, and utter violation of all
his traditions. He was past that now, and even felt a certain
relief. He knew his family were safe; it was enough. That they
were locked up securely, and incapable of interfering with HIM,
seemed to enhance his new, half-conscious, half-shy enjoyment of an
The ostler, who had been apparently lost in contemplation of the
steep trail he had just descended, suddenly clapped his hand to his
leg with an ejaculation of gratified astonishment.
"Waal, darn my skin ef that ain't Hennicker's 'slide' all the time!
I heard it was somewhat about here."
Rawlins briefly explained to Hale that a slide was a rude incline
for the transit of heavy goods that could not be carried down a
"And Hennicker's," continued the man, "ain't more nor a mile away.