CHAPTER XXII
ON THE TRAIL
It was a night to remember, if for nothing else for the exquisiteatmospheric conditions prevailing. The moon was at its full, like somesplendid jewel radiating a silvery peace upon a slumbering world. Thejeweled sky suggested the untold wealth of an infinite universe. Theperfumed air filled lungs and nostrils with a beatific joy in living,and the darkened splendor of the crowding hills inspired a reverence inthe human heart so profound, that it left scarce a place for thesmallness of mundane hopes and yearnings. The splendor, the breadth ofbeauty sank into the human soul and left the spirit straining at itsearthly bonds, and gazing with longing towards the infinite power whichordered its existence.
For ten miles of the journey from the old ranch-house Hazel rode underthe sublime influence of feelings so inspired. Nothing of theconditions were new to her. The mountain nights in summer were as mucha part of her existence as was the ranching life of her home. She knewthem as she knew the work that filled her daylight hours. But theireffect upon her never varied--never weakened. No familiarity with themcould change that feeling of the infinite sublimity somewhere beyondthe narrow confines of human life. She drank in the deep draughts ofperfect life, she gazed abroad with shining eyes of simple happiness onthe splendid world, and a superlative thankfulness to the Creator ofall things that life had been thus vouchsafed her uplifted her heartand all that was spiritual within her.
The journey to her home was twenty miles, but her favorite marepossessed wings so far as its mistress was concerned. The distance wasall too short for the splendid young body, and that youthful mood ofdelight. Hazel reveled in the expenditure of the energy required, asthe mare, beneath her, seemed to revel in the physical effort of thejourney.
For the greater part of the road the cobwebs of affairs she was engagedupon left Hazel indifferent. The delight of life left no room forthem. But after the half way had been passed there came to her flashesof thought which reduced her feelings to a more human mood.
Nor was that mood of the easiest. She experienced feelings ofdisquiet, even alarm. She felt vexed, and a great resentment, and evengenuine anger, began to take possession of her. But these wereinterspersed with moments when a certain irresponsibility and humorwould not be denied, and underlying all and every other emotion was agreat passionate longing, which she scarcely admitted even to herself.
Her mind was fixed upon two men: father and son. For the time atleast, they were the pivot of all things worldly for her. In herthoughts the son possessed attributes little short of a demi-god, whilethe father had become a being endowed with a deep, reflected regard.There was room in her woman's heart for both in their respectiveplaces. She knew she loved them, and her variations of mood wereinspired by the cruelly farcical atmosphere of the position surroundingthem both. She was angry with Gordon, bitterly angry at one moment, atthe next she reveled in the exquisite impudence of his daring. At onemoment her woman's tender pity went out to the big-hearted man who hadbeen submitted to such indignities by his own son and herself, and allthose concerned in the conspiracy, and, at the next, she found herselfsmiling at the humor of his attitude towards his persecutors. Then,too, over all these complications of feeling she was stirred with alarmat that painful memory of the unguarded moment, when, lulled by herinterest in the millionaire's talk, she had admitted her name to him.Visions of hideous possibilities rose before her eyes. If he shouldchance to know her father's name. Why not? Surely he knew. But afterthat one sharp interrogation he had given no sign.
She sighed a sort of half-hearted relief, but remained unconvinced. Itwas this last contingency which had inspired her night journey home.She had ridden out the moment she had been certain that their captivehad retired for the night.
There were still some eight miles to go before the ranch would bereached when Hazel experienced a fright, which left her ready to turnand flee back over the way she had come as swiftly as the legs of hermare could carry her.
On clearing a bluff of spruce, around which her course lay, in the fullradiance of the moon's high noon, she suddenly beheld a horseman ridingtowards her, a ghostly figure moving soundlessly over the high grass.
Such was the effect of this vision upon her, that, beyond being able tobring her mare to an abrupt halt, panic left her paralysed. In all heryears she had never encountered a horseman riding late at night in themountains. Who was he? Who could he be? And an eerie feeling set herflesh creeping at the ghostliness and noiselessness of his coming.
She sat there stupidly, her pretty cheeks ashen in the moonlight. Andall the time the man was coming nearer and nearer, traveling the sametrail she would have done had she pursued her course. Then an abjectterror surged upon her. He must meet her!
In an instant her paralysis left her, and she gathered her reins toturn her mare about. But the maneuver was never effected. She hadsuddenly recognized the horse the man was riding. It was Sunset. Thenext moment she further recognized the broad shoulders of the man inthe saddle, and a glad cry broke from her, and she urged her mare on tomeet him.
"Gordon!" she cried, in a world of delight and relief as she came upwith him.
"You, Hazel?" came the joyous response of her ghostly visitor.
"You just scared me all to death," protested the girl, as the bigchestnut ranged up beside her.
"I did?" Gordon was smiling tenderly down at the pretty figure, sofascinating in the moonlight as it sat astride the brown mare.
"My, but I thought--I--oh, I don't know what I thought. But what areyou doing around--now?"
The girl was smiling happily enough. Even in the silver of themoonlight it was obvious that the color had returned to her cheeks.
"I was going to ask you that," returned Gordon. "But I guess I besttell you things first." Then he began to laugh. "I was coming out tosee you, but--not you only. Say, I'm just the weakest conspirator everstarted out to trap a mouse. Look at me. Say, get a good look. Itisn't the sort of thing you'll see every time you open your eyes. Iwas sick to death feeling the old dad was shut up a prisoner, and Ifelt I must get along, even if it was only just to get a peek, and besure he wasn't suffering."
Hazel's eyes were tenderly regarding the great creature in the brightmoonlight. She had been so recently angry at this son's heartlessaction, that his expression of contrition made her feel all the moretender towards him.
"He's in bed, and--I'd guess he's snoring elegantly by now," she said,with a smile. "I--I waited to start out till he was in bed." Then hereyes met his. "What were you coming to--see me for?"
The direct challenge very nearly precipitated matters. Gordon hadexcuses enough for seeing her, but only one real purpose. He hesitatedbefore replying.
"We've made good," he said at last, by way of subterfuge, and the girldrew a deep breath of joyous content.
"You've--made--good?" she questioned, more in the way of reassuringherself than desiring a reply.
Gordon moved his horse so that she could turn about.
"Let's go back to the--prison," he said, his words charged with theexcited delight stirring within him.
"Yes, we've made good." The girl turned her mare about and the twomoved on the way she had already come, side by side. "Listen, while Itell you. Say, I could sort of shout it around the hill-tops--if theyweren't so snowy and cold. Snake's Fall is just a surging land marketfor us at Buffalo. There are real estate offices opening everywhere,and everybody you meet on the sidewalk is a broker of some sort. TheBude and Sideley folk turned their holdings loose directly we got thesurveyors and engineers of the railroad up, and the folks all jumped.Then the men at Snake's, who held in ours, followed suit. But yourfather, bless him, held tight. The boom fairly rose to a shriek, andwe've been fighting to sit tight, and let the prices go up skywards.Then we had a meeting, and your father loosened up a bit. Just to keepthe spurt on. Meanwhile I've handled things down east, and kept thewires singing. The railroad have started a great adve
rtising campaignat my orders. The coal company, too, are talking Snake's Fall, andBuffalo Point. In a month there'll be such a rush as only America, andthis continent generally knows how to make. Even now sites arechanging hands at ridiculous prices. Meanwhile I've got the railroadbusy. Already ten construction trains have come through, and they'vestarted on the new depot." He drew a deep sigh of satisfaction. Thenin a sort of shamefaced manner he went on. "But I've had to weaken inthe old dad's direction. I can't make good and leave him out alltogether. You see, that play of Slosson's in Snake's will have to bemade good, and my father will have to make it that way. So I've gotyour father to give me a six months' option on a stretch of landadjoining the coalpits which he hadn't ceded to the Bude people. Yousee, if there's coal there it'll put my father right with the game, andwe shan't have hurt him any. Meanwhile things will go on, and we'llhave to keep the old dad for another month. Then I sell, and----"
"You'll have won out," broke in Hazel, her eyes shining in themoonlight. Then a shadow crossed her face. "But when your fatherknows what you've done? What then?"
Gordon seemed to consider his reply carefully.
"You can leave that to me, Hazel," he said at last, with a whimsicalsmile. "There's surely got to be a grand finale to this, and when itcomes I'll still need your help. Say, why were you riding in to theranch--at dead of night?"
The abrupt question shocked the girl out of her delighted content. Thememory of her trouble came overwhelmingly upon her. But Gordon waswaiting.
"You're making good, but I've made pretty bad," she said, thrusting adesire to burst into tears resolutely from her. "I'm just every sortof fool and I--don't know how much damage I haven't done. Everything'sgone right until this evening. Hip-Lee has just been as near perfectas a Chinaman can be. We've carried out all our plans right through,and I've never been near your father without Hip-Lee looking on. Thatis--until this evening." The girl sighed. The confession of herblundering was hard to make. "It was this way," she went on presently."Your father was out walking. I hadn't seen him return. I was in thekitchen fixing his supper, and it was sticky hot, and I just hated theflies, so I went out for a breath of air. Hip-Lee had been playing hisspy game on your father. Well, I just stood out front of the housetaking a look at the hills, and wishing I was amongst their snows, whenyour father spoke. He had got back, and was sitting outside the house,and, maybe, like me he was yearning for that snow. Well, I justcouldn't run away--so we talked. I guess we'd talked quite awhile, andI'd kind of forgotten things, and in the middle of his talk he startedto address me by my name, and got as far as 'Miss.' Then, without athought, I spoke my name. He just seemed startled, but never said aword about it, and now I'm worried to death. Was there ever such----"
The girl broke off, and it seemed to Gordon, in spite of her attemptedsmile, she was very near tears. Instantly he smothered his ownfeelings of alarm at her story and endeavored to console her. Helaughed, but in Hazel's hyper-sensitive condition of anxiety, his laughlacked its usual buoyancy.
"That's nothing to worry over," he said. "I'd say if your name hadmeant anything to him he wouldn't have given you breathing time beforeyou'd learned a heap of things that wouldn't have sounded pretty.Dad's no end of a sport, but when he gets a punch, and the fellow whogives it him don't vanish quick, he's got a way of hitting back mightyhard. I don't guess that break's going to figure any in our play. Henever said a word?"
"Not a word." Hazel tried to take comfort, but still remainedunconvinced. "Anyway what could he do?"
Gordon remained serious for some moments. Then his eyes lit again.
"Not a thing," he said emphatically, and Hazel knew he meant it.
For some time they rode on in silence, and thought was busy with themboth. Hazel was thinking of so many things, all of which somehowfocussed round the man at her side, and her ardent desire to obey hislightest commands in the schemes of his fertile brain. Gordon haddismissed every other thought from his mind but the delightfulcompanionship of this ride, which had come all unexpectedly. Thegirl's mare led slightly, and the sober chestnut kept his nose on alevel with her shoulder, and thus Gordon was left free to regard thegirl he loved without fear of embarrassment to her. But somehow Hazelwas not unaware of his regard. A curious subconsciousness left herwith the feeling that her every movement was observed, and a pleasant,excited nervousness began to stir her. She hastily broke the silence.
"You said you'd still need my help when--the grand finale came," shedemanded.
"Sure," came the prompt reply. Then very slowly the man added; "Ican't do anything without your help--now."
The girl glanced round quickly.
"You mean--with your father a prisoner?"
The man's smile deepened, and his blue eyes gazed thoughtfully,ardently, into the hazel eyes, which, in a moment, became hidden fromhim.
"I don't think I meant--quite that," he said.
The girl offered no reply, and the man went on.
"You see, we have become sort of partners in most everything, haven'twe? I don't seem to think of anything without you being in it." Thenhe laughed, a little nervous laugh. "I don't try to either. Say, Iwent out to the cattle station, and had a look at Slosson the otherday. The boys have got him pretty right, and--I felt sorry for him."
"Why?" Hazel asked her question without thinking. She somehow feltincapable of thought just now. She felt like one drifting upon sometide which was beyond her control, and the only guiding hand thatmattered was this man's.
Gordon gave one of his curious short laughs, which might have meantanything.
"I don't know," he said. Then: "Yes, I do though. Think of a fellowwho's had his business queered, who's staked a big gamble and lost, notonly that, but the girl he's crazy about, and meanwhile is rounded upin a shack that wouldn't keep a summer shower out, and seems as thoughit was set up on purpose by some crazy genius as a sort of playgroundfor every sort of wind ever blew. Say, if I lost my partner now,I'd---- Guess our partnership ought to expire in a month. This playwill be through then."
"Yes."
With all her desire to talk on indifferently, Hazel could find no wordto add to the monosyllable. She was trembling with a delightfulapprehension she could not check. And somehow she had no desire tocheck it. This man was all powerful to sway her emotions, and she knewit. The moments were growing almost painful in the tenseness of heremotions.
"Another month. It's--awful for me to think of."
"Is it?"
The inanity of her remark would have made Hazel laugh at any othertime. Now, it passed her by, its meaninglessness conveying nothingwith the submerging of her humor in the sea of stronger emotions.
Gordon urged his horse to draw level with the mare. Then hedeliberately drew it down to a walk on the rustling grass, and Hazelfollowed his example without protest. All about them was the delicatesilver tracery of the moonlight through the trees. The warmth of theperfumed night air possessed a seductiveness only equaled by the nightbeauties of the scene about them. It was such a moment when the mosttimorous lover must become emboldened, and emulate the bravest. ButGordon knew no timidity. His only fear was for failure. Had herealized the tumult which his words had stirred within this girl'sbosom he might well have flung all hesitation to the winds. As it washe threw the final cast with all the strength of his virile, impetuousnature.
"Another month. Must it end then, Hazel?" He reached out and seized,with gentle firmness, the girl's bridle hand. "Must it? Say, can't itbe partners--for life?" His eyes were very tender, but their humor wasstill lurking in their depths. He leaned towards her and the girl'shand remained unresistingly in his. "D'you know, dear, I sort of feelto-night I'd like to have a dozen Slossons standing around waiting,while I scrapped 'em all in turn for you. Maybe that don't tell youmuch. It can't mean anything to you. It means this to me. It means Ijust want to be the fellow who's got to see to it that life runs assmooth as the wheels of a Pullman
for you. It means I don't care athing for anything else in the world but you, not even this play we'reat now. I guess I just loved you the day I first saw you, and havegone on loving you worse and worse ever since, till I don't guessthere's any doctor, but having you always with me, can save me from anearly grave." Somehow the two horses had come to a standstill. Norwere they urged on. "I just want you, Hazel, all the time," Gordonwent on, more and more tenderly. "You'll never get to know how badly Iwant you. Will you--shall it be--partners--always?"
The girl was gazing out over the moonlight scene so that Gordon couldsee nothing of the light of happiness shining in her pretty eyes. Allhe knew was the trembling of the hand he still held in his. Then,suddenly, while he waited, he felt the girl's other hand, soft, warm,full of that quiet strength which he knew to be hers, close over his,and a wild thrill swept through his whole body.
"Is it 'yes'?" he demanded, with a passionate pressure of his hand, anda great light burning in his eyes. "Mine! Mine! For--as long as welive?"
The girl still made no verbal reply, but she bowed her head and gentlyraised his hand, and tenderly pressed it to her soft bosom. In aninstant she lay crushed in his arms while the two horses, with headstogether, seemed lost in a friendly discussion of the extraordinaryproceedings going on between their riders.
What they thought about them was apparently on the whole favorable, forpresently, with mute expressions of good will, their handsome headsdrew apart and lowered significantly. The next moment they wereenjoying a pleasant siesta, such as only a four-footed creature canaccomplish standing without risk to life and limb.
Half an hour later they were wide awake and full of bustling activity.The closed heels on their saddle cinchas warned them that even lovers'madness has its limits of duration, and that the practical affairs oflife must inevitably become paramount in the end.
So they answered the call, and raced down the trail in the cool of thenight.