The Everlasting Whisper

  _Chapter X_

  That night when King and Gloria said "good-night" an odd constraint layover them. To Gloria, King seemed stiff and preoccupied; she herself hadred spots in her cheeks and was nervously tense. The abrupt approach ofBrodie with his repulsive face--at a moment when the world swirled awayfrom her underfoot and a divine madness was in her blood--the reactionand revulsion--all this and the resultant conflict of emotions had wornher out. She was sure of nothing in all the world--for once was not inthe least certain of herself--when she drew her hand out of King's andhastened to her guests in the house. It was with a sense of relief thatshe heard the door close, shutting her in with familiar, homey objectsand faces, opposing its barrier against the wilderness and a man who wasa part of the wilderness. She knew that King was going back to themountains; she knew when he left, going swiftly and silently, like ashadow among shadows; she knew that this time he went armed, carryingher father's rifle.

  For Mark King knew that it was inevitable that his path and SwenBrodie's should run closer and closer; that trails made by two men likeKing and Brodie could never converge harmoniously; that there was toomuch at stake; that it was well to be ready for Brodie in an ugly moodin an encounter so far removed from the habitations of men that a deeddone would pass without human commentary.

  A week passed and Gloria went back to San Francisco. These had beenseven days and nights of uncertainty for her, and had brought hours ofconfusion that mounted into bewilderment. She had sung and danced andflirted as even Gloria Gaynor had never done before; she had madeGratton sure of her and his eyes had smouldered and his chalky pale facehad flushed; she had sent him off, gnawing at his nails; she had madeother young laughter rise like echoes of her own; she had sighed and satlong hours at her window, wondering, wondering, wondering. In the endshe had gone, leaving her little note for Mark King.

  King did not return to the log house. He knew that long ago Gloria wouldhave gone; there was nothing to draw him in her absence. He kept intouch, none too close, with Ben Gaynor; telephoned him once from Coloma,and once sent a note to him by a hunter he encountered on Five LakesCreek, above Hell Hole, the note to be mailed in Truckee some timelater, and to reach Gaynor the following day at his lumber-camp. Thesewere strenuous days during which King penetrated the most out-of-the-waycorners of the mountains. He constructed his theories and strovedoggedly to set them to the proof. He held that when Baldy Winch hadmade him a cabin in so inaccessible and distant a spot as the crest ofLookout Ridge, it had been because Winch, the sole survivor of thosehardy spirits who had been of Gus Ingle's party, was of a mind to makesure, day after day, that no other men went where he had been. Perhapshe knew that he alone remained alive; that the secret was his; that hehad but to wait the winter out, to sit through the spring thaw, and thengo back to claim his own. A man like Baldy Winch, as King envisionedhim, would do that. Hence, from Lookout Ridge one should be able to seethe very point, or a peak standing over the very point, where GusIngle's men had gone. But always the one difficulty: that point might bea mile away, or ten, twenty, thirty miles away. There was nothing to dobut seek--and he knew that always Swen Brodie, too, was seeking, Brodieand the men of his own kind whom likeness drew to likeness. So Kingspent day after day in the canons and on the ridges, and yet, throughBen Gaynor, thought to keep an eye on old Loony Honeycutt.

  But there were many hours, alone in the forests resting, sitting over abubbling coffee-pot, lying in his blankets under the stars, that Kingthought very little of Brodie, Gus Ingle, or Honeycutt. There were timeswhen the solitudes were empty; when a new, strange feeling of lonelinessswept overpoweringly over him. At such moments he fancied that a girlcame stealing through the trees to him; that she slipped her hand intohis own; that she lifted to his her soft eyes; that something within thesoul of him spoke to her and that she answered. His pulses quickened; agreat yearning as of infinite hunger possessed him. He remembered howthey had stood together upon the ridge the last time; how his arms hadbeen opening for her; the look in her eyes. That had been a moment whenthe world had lain at their feet; when they had been lifted up and up,close to the gates of paradise.

  He saw virtually nothing of Brodie. Now and then smoke from a camp-fire;once or twice the charred coals where Brodie's men had been before him.Upon these camp sites he looked contemptuously; carelessness andwastefulness were two things he hated in a woodsman, and always he foundthem in Brodie's wake. Also he found bottles. Further, he was of theopinion that he could go in the dark to the particular canon in whichthe illicit still made its output of bad moonshine whiskey. But, thoughthat canon lay in the heart of the country he was combing over, it wasone which he had explored from top to bottom two years ago, and now wascontent to leave aside.

  One day he came upon signs of a killing made the day before; by one ofBrodie's outfit, he assumed. Some one had baited for a bear and hadkilled. The mother bear, he discovered the following morning. For hecame upon a little brown cub whimpering dismally. King made therebellious little fellow an unwilling captive--and smiled as he thoughtof Gloria. Gloria had talked of bear cubs. If she but had one for a pet!Well, here was Gloria's pet. King that day turned toward the log house.And thus he received at last Gloria's note at Jim Spalding's hands:

  "DEAR MARK,

  "Mamma and I have to go back to town to-morrow. I am so sorry that I can't stay up here always and always. Do you realize that I have never seen you in the city? It's lots of fun, too, in its own way, don't you think? Another kind of a wilderness. I wonder if you would come down--if I asked you to? I'll say it very nicely and properly, like this: 'Miss Gloria Gaynor requests the pleasure of Mr. Mark King's presence at her little birthday-party, on the evening of August twelfth, at eight o'clock.' Just the four of us, Mark; mamma and papa, you and

  "GLORIA."

  "August twelfth," said King. "I'll go."

  He didn't write, as the necessity of an answer did not suggest itself tohim. He took it for granted that she would know that he would come. Hechuckled as he thought of the birthday gift he would bring her. Therewas still a week; he remained with Spalding at the Gaynor mountain homeand devoted hour after hour to taming the cub. On the eleventh he was inSan Francisco. Before he had taken a taxi at the Ferry Building it haddawned on him that his best suit of clothes was somewhat outworn. Itwould never do to go to the Gaynors' in that. Nor was there time for atailor. Therefore he went direct to a clothing-store in Market Streetand in something less than half an hour had bought suit, hat, shoes,socks, shirt, collar, and tie.

  "I can have the alterations made by to-morrow afternoon," said thesalesman.

  "What alterations?" demanded King, turning before the long glass andstaring at his new finery.

  "The coat is a trifle tight just here--the trousers----"

  King laughed.

  "As long as I'm satisfied, you are, aren't you?" he said.

  The clerk watched him with admiring eyes as he went out. For the clerk,an odd thing in a man who sold clothing and therefore was prone to judgeby clothes, caught a glimpse of the real man.

  "Big mining man, most likely," muttered the clerk. "Don't care forclothes and is rich enough to get by with whatever he wears." He lookedvaguely envious.

  King was busied for an hour or so, finding quarters for his cub,registering at the St. Francis, getting a shave and hair-cut. Amanicurist saw his hands and, smothering a giggle, pointed them out tothe young fellow she was working on.

  "Go after them," he grinned. "There's a fortune for you in them."

  "Nothing doing," she returned from her higher wisdom. "He ain't the kindthat knows he's got any hands unless he's got a job for them to do."

  Later King telephoned to the Gaynor home. A maid answered and informedhim that Mr. Gaynor had not arrived yet, though he was expected thisafternoon or in the morning; that both Mrs. and Miss Gaynor were out.King hung up without leaving his name.

  King sat in the lobby, musing on San Francisco. As Gloria had said, itwas a
wilderness of its own sort. Time was when it had appealed to him;that was in the younger collegiate days. He wondered what had happenedto his one-time proud evening regalia; how he had strutted in it, dancesand dinners and theatre-parties! But briefly and long, long ago. It waslike a half-forgotten former incarnation; or, rather, like theunfamiliar existence of some other man. He grew restless over his paperand strolled into the bar. There he was fortunate enough to stumble on aman he knew, an old mining engineer. The two got off into a corner andtalked. Later they dined and went to the theatre together.

  The next evening King got a taxi, called for his bear cub, stopped at aflorist's for an armful of early violets, and growing more eager andimpatient at every block was off to the Gaynor home.

  "Here you are, sir," said the chauffeur, opening the door.

  King fancied the man had made a mistake in the number. The house wasblazing with lights, upstairs and down; there was an unmistakable air ofrevelry about it; faintly the music of a new dance tune, violin andpiccolo and piano, crept out into the night. Above the music he couldhear gay voices, muffled by door and window and wall.

  King was of a mind to go back to the hotel. He had counted on theGaynors alone, not on this sort of thing. But also, most of all, he hadcounted on Gloria, and his hesitation was brief. He jumped down and,leading his bear cub by its new chain, went up the steps.

  A housemaid came to the door, opened it wide for him, saw the cubagainst his leg, and screamed.

  "Why, what on earth is the matter, Frieda?" said some one.

  It was Gloria passing through the front hallway with a worshipful youth.Gloria came to the door, the youth at her heels, looking over hershoulder.

  "Oh!" cried Gloria. King knew then in a flash that she had not expectedhim, that probably because he had never answered her letter she hadforgotten all about it. Unconsciously he stiffened--his old gesturebefore a woman.

  But now Gloria came running out to him, her two hands offered, her eyesalight with pleasure.

  "You did come," she said gladly.

  Gloria's escort, obviously holding himself to be privileged throughvirtue of his briefly temporary office, thrust himself along in herwake. Him King did not notice; King saw only Gloria. As of old she sethis pulse stirring restlessly with her sparkling, vivid loveliness.To-night was Gloria's night; she was eighteen and queen of the world.

  "And----Oh, look!" She let her hands remain in his but her eyes wereall for the little brown bundle of fur at King's feet, that began now towhine and pull back at its chain. "My birthday present!"

  Just now Mark King would have given anything he could think of to havethat bear cub back in the woods where it belonged. He hadn't had time toanalyse impulses; he didn't know why all of a sudden his gift seemed outof place. As he let Gloria's fingers slip through his he looked at theyoung fellow, a boy of Gloria's own age, in the doorway. Perhaps thefull evening dress had something to do with King's new attitude towardhis pet. But now as Gloria, a little timid and holding her skirts backand yet clearly delighted, flashed him her look of understanding andgratitude, he was content.

  Gloria remembered to make Mr. King known to Mr. Trimble. Then Kingsuggested that they take the cub around back and lodge him for the nightin the garage. But Gloria, discovering that she could pat and fondle thelittle creature, and that he was of friendly disposition, insisted onhaving him brought into the house for all to see.

  "It's the most delightful present of all!" she whispered to King.

  In the hallway they were surrounded by a crowd of the curious. Girls inpretty dresses, young fellows in black suits, all very exact as to theproper evening appointments. At first they were disposed to look on Kingas "the man who brought the cub," and it was only when Gloria began astring of introductions that they understood. One and all, theyregarded Mark King curiously.

  The cub was made much of, and finally led off to the kitchen for sugarand a bed in a box under the table. Mrs. Gaynor appeared and was "veryglad indeed to see Mr. King again." Gratton, whom King remembered withsmall liking, came up and shook hands, and looked at King in a way whichdid nothing to increase the liking. Ben, it appeared, had been unable tocome this year. King was sorry for that as he looked about him. Only nowdid he remember the violets he had brought for Gloria.

  The evening was anything but that to which he had looked forward. Fromthe beginning he regretted coming; before the end it was slow torturefor him. He was out of place and felt more out of place than he was.Glances at his carelessly purchased clothes were veiled, and neverutterly impolite, but he was conscious of them. He was conspicuousbecause he was different; outwardly in garb, inwardly in much else.There was no one here whom he knew; he had never felt that he knewGloria's mother, and to-night Gloria's self, puzzling him, baffling him,was an Unknown. Not that she was not delightful to him; she was just asdelightful to every other man there, and in the same way. His days withher in the forest blurred and faded.

  Gloria gave him the first dance after his arrival, highhandedlycommanding a fair-haired and despondent youth to surrender to King oneof his numbers. King caught her into his arms hungrily--only to feelthat she was very far away from him. He knew that he was dancingawkwardly; he had not danced for a dozen years. Gloria suggested sittingout the rest of the dance; she said it prettily but he understood. Heunderstood, too, by that sixth sense of man which is so keen at certainmoments of mental distress that all of Gloria's friends were wonderingabout him, where he came from, "what his business was." He was tanned,rugged. He was not of them. He fancied, sensitively, that amongthemselves they laughed at him. As he sat with Gloria and found littleto say, he was conscious of her eyes probing at him when she thoughtthat he did not see. He looked away, a shadow in his eyes, and chancedto see Gratton. Gratton, who had struck him as contemptible in thewoods, a misfit and a poor sort of man at best, was here on his ownheath. He carried himself well, he talked well; he bore himself with acertain distinction. Clearly he was much in favour among the girls andwomen, much envied by the younger men. Yes; Gloria was right: this wasanother sort of wilderness where Mark King was the misfit, where Grattonwas as much in tone with his environment as was King among the forestand crags of the ridges.

  Another dance. Gloria excused herself lightly and escaped into the armsof Gratton himself. Escaped! King understood; that was the word for it.He watched them; saw Gratton whisper something into her ear, saw Gloriatoss her head, saw her cheeks flush. Then Gratton laughed and shelaughed with him. They danced wonderfully together, swaying togetherlike two reeds in the same gentle wind. Others than King noticed; therewere knowing smiles. At the end of the dance King saw the look whichGloria, flushed and happy, flashed up at Gratton, and his heartcontracted in a sudden spasm of pain.

  When again couples were seeking each other to the jazzy invitation ofthe musicians, King slipped away and went outside. He stood in theshadows of the porch seeking to get a grip on himself. In a moment hewould go in and say good-night to Mrs. Gaynor; he'd say good-night toGloria; he would go and put an end to a hideous nightmare. He heldhimself very much of a fool, and he knew that he was fanciful. But hewas of no mind to stay.

  Two or three couples came out; he remained unnoticed in the darkness. Heheard a girl's voice:

  "But _who_ is he? I think he's terribly handsome. Anddistinguished-looking. Superior to our kind of nonsense."

  "Who are you talking about, Betty?" Her dancing partner pretended to bein doubt. "Me?"

  A whirlwind of girls' laughter. Then one of them saying:

  "_You_ distinguished-looking! Or handsome! She means thesixty-nine-dollar serge suit."

  Good God! Was there a price tag on him?

  "Oh, the animal trainer!" They laughed again. Then Gloria came and theycalled to her, demanding:

  "_Who_ is he?"

  "Oh," said Gloria carelessly, "he is an old friend of papa's and hisname is King."

  They went in, two of the girls lingering a little behind the others.Gloria and another. The other, bantering and yet curi
ous, said:

  "Georgia told me all about a Mr. King up in the mountains this spring.And that it looked like love at first sight to her. 'Fess up, Glory, mydear."

  Gloria's laughter, unfettered, spontaneous, was of high amusement.

  "Georgia said, just the same, that she'd bet on an elopement--"

  King reddened and stirred uneasily. Gloria gasped.

  "Georgia's crazy!" she said emphatically. "Why, the man is impossible!"

  * * * * *

  Five minutes later King went in, found his hat, and told Mrs. Gaynorgood-night. She was glad that he was going, and he knew it though shemade the obvious perfunctory remark. Gloria saw and came tripping acrossthe room.

  "Not going so soon?"

  "Yes," he said briefly. "Good-bye, Gloria."

  "Good-night, you mean, don't you?"

  "I mean good-bye," he said quietly.

  Gratton thrust forward. King left abruptly, leaving them together,conscious of the quick look of pleasure on the face of Gloria's mother.