_CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN_
Ben Connor awoke the next morning with the sun streaming across the roomand sprang out of bed at once, worried. For about dawn noises as a rulebegan around the house and the singing of the old men farther down thehill. The Garden of Eden awakened at sunrise, and this silence even whenthe sun was high alarmed the gambler. He dressed hastily, and openinghis door, he saw David walking slowly up and down the patio. At thesight of Connor he raised a warning finger.
"Let us keep a guard upon our voices," he murmured, coming to Connor. "Ihave ordered my servants to move softly and to keep from the house ifthey may."
"What's happened?"
"She sleeps, Benjamin." He turned toward her door with a smile that thegambler never forgot. "Let her waken rested."
Connor looked at the sky.
"I've come too late for breakfast, even?"
A glance of mild rebuke was turned upon him.
"Surely, Benjamin, we who are strong will not eat before her who isweak?"
"Are you going to starve yourself because she's sleepy?"
"But I have not felt hunger."
He added in a voice of wonder: "Listen!"
Ruth Manning was singing in her room, and Connor turned away to hide hisfrown. For he was not by any means sure whether the girl sang from thejoy she found in this great adventure or because of David Eden. He wasstill further troubled when she came out to the breakfast table in thepatio. He had expected that she would be more or less confused by thepresence of David after his queer talk of the night before, but sleepseemed to have wiped everything from her memory. Her first nod, to besure, was for the gambler, but her smile was for David of Eden. Connorfell into a reverie which was hardly broken through the meal by the deepvoice of David or the laughter of Ruth. Their gayety was a barrier, andhe was, subtly, left on the outside. David had proposed to the girl aride through the Garden, and when he went for the horses the gamblerdecided to make sure of her position. He was too much disturbed to bediplomatic. He went straight to the point.
"I'm sorry this is such a mess for you; but if you can buck up for awhile it won't take long to finish the job."
She looked at him without understanding, which was what he least wantedin the world. So he went on: "As a matter of fact, the worst of the jobhasn't come. You can do what you want with him right now. Butafterward--when you get him out of the valley the hard thing will be tohold him."
"You're angry with poor David. What's he done now?"
"Angry with him? Of course not! I'm a little disgusted, that's all."
"Tell me why in words of one syllable, Ben."
"You're too fine a sort to have understood. And I can't very wellexplain."
She allowed herself to be puzzled for a moment and then laughed.
"Please don't be mysterious. Tell me frankly."
"Very well. I think you can make David go out of the valley when we go.But once we have him back in a town the trouble will begin. Youunderstand why he's so--fond of you, Ruth?"
"Let's not talk about it."
"Sorry to make you blush. But you see, it isn't because you're sopretty, Ruth, but simply because you're a woman. The first he's everseen."
All her high coloring departed at once; a pale, sick face looked atConnor.
"Don't say it," murmured the girl. "I thought last night just for amoment--but I couldn't let myself think of it for an instant."
"I understand," said Connor gently. "You took all that highfalutingpoetry stuff to be the same thing. But, say, Ruth, I've heard a youngbuck talk to a young squaw--before he married her. Just about the sameline of junk, eh? What makes me sick is that when we get him out in atown he'll lose his head entirely when he sees a room full of girls.We'll simply have to plant a contract on him and--then let him go!"
"Do you think it's only that?" she said again, faintly.
"I leave it to you. Use your reason, and figure it out for yourself. Idon't mean that you're in any danger. You know you're not as long as I'maround!"
She thanked him with a wan smile.
"But how can I let him come near me--now?"
"It's a mess. I'm sorry about it. But once the deal goes through I'llmake this up to you if it takes me the rest of my life. You believe me?"
"I know you're true blue, Ben! And--I trust you."
He was a little disturbed to find that his pulse was decidedly quickenedby that simple speech.
"Besides, I want to thank you for letting me know this. I understandeverything about him now!"
In her heart of hearts she was hating David with all her might. For allnight long, in her dreams, she had been seeing again the gestures ofthose strong brown hands, and the flash of his eyes, and hearing thedeep tremor of his voice. The newness of this primitive man and his waysand words had been an intoxicant to her; because of his very differenceshe was a little afraid, and now the warning of Connor chimed inaccurately with a premonition of her own. That adulation poured at thefeet of Ruth Manning had been a beautiful and marvelous thing; but flungdown simply in honor of her sex it became almost an insult. The memorymade her shudder. The ideal lover whom she had prefigured in some of herwaking dreams had always spoken with ardor--a holy ardor. From thispassion of the body she recoiled.
Something of all this Connor read in her face and in her thoughtfulsilence, and he was profoundly contented. He had at once neutralized allof David's eloquence and fortified his own position. It was both a blowdriven home and a counter. Not that he would admit a love for the girl;he had merely progressed as far as jealousy. He told himself that hisonly interest was in keeping her from an emotion which, once developed,might throw her entirely on the side of David and ruin their jointplans. He had refused to accompany the master of the Garden and the girlon their ride through the valley because, as he told himself, he"couldn't stand seeing another grown man make such an ass of himself" asDavid did when he was talking with the girl.
He contented himself now with watching her face when David came back tothe patio, followed by Glani and the neat-stepping little mare, Tabari.The forced smile with which she met the big man was a personal triumphto the gambler.
"If you can win her under that handicap, David," he said softly tohimself, "you deserve her, and everything else you can get."
David helped her into the saddle on Tabari, and himself sprang onto thepad upon Glani's back. They went out side by side.
It was a cool day for that season, and the moment the north wind struckthem David shouted softly and sent Glani at a rushing gallop straightinto the teeth of the wind. Tabari followed at a pace which Ruth, experthorse-woman though she was, had never dreamed of. For the first time shehad that impression of which Ben Connor had spoken to her of the horsepouring itself over the road without strain and without jar of smashinghoofs.
Ruth let Tabari extend herself, until the mare was racing with ears flatagainst her neck. She had even an impression that Glani, burdened by thegreat weight of David, was being left behind, but when she glanced tothe side she saw that the master half a length back, was keeping astrong pull on the stallion, and Glani went smoothly, easily, withenormous strides, and fretting at the restraint.
She gained two things from that glance. The first was a sense ofimpatience because the stallion kept up so easily; in the second place,the same wind which drove the long hair of David straight back blew allsuspicious thoughts out of her mind. She drew Tabari back to a handgallop and then to a walk with her eyes dimmed by the wind of the rideand the blood tingling in her cheeks.
"It was like having wings," she cried happily as David let the stallioncome up abreast.
"Tabari is sturdy, but she lacks speed," said the dispassionate master."When she was a foal of six months and was brought to me for judgment, Ithought twice, because her legs were short. However, it is well that shewas allowed to live and breed."
"Allowed to live?" murmured Ruth Manning.
"To keep the line of the gray horse perfect," said David, "they must bewatched with a
jealous eye, and those which are weak must not live. Themares are killed and the stallions gelded and sold."
"And can you judge the little colts?"
Her voice was too low for David to catch a sense of pain and anger init.
"It must be done. It is a duty. To-day is the sixth month of Timeh, thedaughter of Juri. You shall witness the judging. Elijah is the master."
His face hardened at the name of Elijah, and the girl caught her breath.But before she could speak they broke out of a grove and came in view ofa wide meadow across which four yoked cattle drew a harrow, smoothingthe plow furrows to an even, black surface.
It carried the girl far back; it was like opening an ancient book ofstill more ancient tales; the musty smell completes the illusion. Thecattle plodding slowly on, seeming to rest at every step, filled in thepicture of which the primitive David Eden was the central figure.
"Yokes," she cried. "I've never seen them before!"
"For some work we use the horses, but the jerking of the harrow ruinstheir shoulders. Besides, we may need the cattle for a new journey."
"A journey? With those?"
"That was how the four came into the Garden. And I am enjoined to havethe strong wagons always ready and the ox teams always complete in caseit becomes necessary to leave this valley and go elsewhere. Of course,that may never be."