The Everlasting Whisper

  _Chapter XX_

  The storm caught them as it has caught so many a wayfarer before andsince. The wintry season was not due for a full four weeks, but thewinter had thrust sign and season aside and made his regal entry afterhis own ancient fashion. There came a crash of reverberating thunder, ascurry in the thickening mass of black clouds, a drenching downpour ofrain. For twenty minutes they crouched in what scant shelter wasafforded them by a squat, wide-limbed cedar. Then the wind went rippingoff through the tree-tops, exacting its toll of flying twigs and leavingin its wake a brief, hushed calm. Through the still air fell scatteringflakes of snow, big and unbroken and feathery. King's eyes were filledwith concern; his face was ominous like the face of the world about him.

  Again Gloria's tired body was assured of rest; again King saidexpressionlessly: "Come on." This time he helped her into the saddle,being in haste and of no mind to wait for trifles. He hurried on ahead;she followed on Buck listlessly, clinging to the saddle, her eyes oftenshut.

  For an hour it snowed. Though there was no sun it was not dark save inthe deeper canons. Nor was it as cold as Gloria had thought it mustbe--or else she was too tired to feel the pinch of the sharp air. Butpresently the flakes grew fewer and then ceased utterly. Those that layon the ground or clung to branches melted swiftly; and with theirdeparture the last light of the day was gone. Now King led the horse andGloria rode through a gathering darkness. She wanted to ask why they didnot stop; why they did not turn back, but lacked the spirit. Now andthen she half dozed.

  At last it was pitch dark and the rain was beginning again. King hadstopped and was helping her down. She was numb now in body; her brainwas numb. The rain hardened into a rattle of hail. Thereafter the airsoftened and filled with swirling snow. Gloria could not see if theywere in an open valley or shut in by canon walls or upon the slope of amountain. Nor did she greatly care. She waited until King prepared somekind of a shelter, and then went wordlessly to it; she felt fir-boughsunder her aching body and was, in pure animal fashion, conscious ofblanket and canvas over her and of a grateful warmth. Through a tangleof bushes she saw the flicker of a small fire; she smelled coffee; shedrank half of the hot cup which he brought to her. Then she let go hergrip upon a wretched world and passed like a child into a heavy sleep.

  By his fire of little cheer Mark King sat, with his canvas drawn overhis slumping shoulders, his head down, his heart as black as the night,his soul possessed by ravaging blue demons. At the end of a fool's daycame a fool's night. He should have paid heed to the first threat of athin film across the sky; he should have turned back with Gloria thefirst thing this morning; he should have done anything in the world saveexactly what he had done. He should not have married her; he should nothave brought her with him; it was even sheer idiocy to come after thisblind fashion into the mountains in the late fall. Though the season wasearly the hour was ominous. The storm might pass before dawn. Thereremained the equal likelihood that it would not. Were he alone, or hadhe a man, or, yes, by heaven! a real woman with him, things would not beso bad. The wind jeered at him through the trees; the storm drenched hisfire; he cursed back at both.

  "One thing," he thought when his pipe brought him a solitary instant ofpeace, "I won't be worried with Gratton and Brodie and hisdouble-dealing crowd. If they ever started they would have sense enoughto turn back long ago."

  After the cold, wet night came a sodden morning. King stood up andlooked about him curiously; his first thought was to make sure that theyhad really camped upon the edge of that particular upland valley whichhe had striven for. And a glint of satisfaction came into his eyes; itis something to have followed such a trail aright upon such a night.Down yonder, a crooked black line in a white field, was the stream whichmany miles further on flowed into the American. Rising abrupt beyond itwere the broken, precipitous cliffs of granite such as beetle above themountain tributaries of the American. The rocks, like the river, wereblack, and looked far colder than the white world which extended in alldirections.

  If, in truth, there existed heaps of raw red gold somewhere in a cave inthese mountains, and there had been any exactness in the description inGus Ingle's Bible, then the spot was not more than three or four milesaway. That was one consideration. It was still snowing. Here was asecond consideration. King turned moody eyes to Gloria's canvas-and-firshelter in the lee of a little bit of cliff. There lay the third. Heprepared breakfast without delay but without enthusiasm. He felt a tiredman with shackled limbs dragging a dead weight.

  When he went to wake Gloria he first stood over her, looking queerlydown upon her sleep. She showed less trace of the hard day and wildnight than he had expected to see; his preparations for her comfort,instinctive and thorough, had been made with the cunning skill of a manfamiliar with situations like the present. She had rested; she laycurled up, snug and warm, under the covers, upon which a thin layer offluffy snow had gathered. Her face was against a curved arm, and thesweetness of it in its tranquil repose was a bitter sweet to him. Herlashes against her cheek stirred and flew apart under his steady gaze.He looked into Gloria's eyes, sweet and soft, heavy with sleep.

  "Time to be up," he said. He turned on his heel and went back in hasteto his fire.

  Gloria, awake, was ravenously hungry. She came sooner than he hadexpected, setting the wild disarray of her hair in some hurried order.Her eyes were quick and curious as she looked up at him. She shruggedher shoulders behind his back and extended her hands to the small,wind-blown blaze.

  "Are we going back?" she asked colourlessly.

  "No," he returned as indifferently. "It's about four miles to the caves.We'll be there in a couple of hours. Then we'll see what we see."

  Gloria sent a long, searching, and awe-struck look across the brokencountry. Yonder, then, she realized dismally, lay their destination;bleak, black, rocky heights, at so great an altitude and in a region sobarren that but few wind-broken trees grew, and the brutal face of theworld was unmasked. She saw bare peaks, steep slopes, a tremendous gorgelike an ugly gash; on the far side of the gorge sheer cliffs. Towardthem King looked. Was it there that Gus Ingle's caves awaited them? Wasthat journey's end? She shivered and drew closer to the fire, closer toher companion, shrinking from the menace of the mountains.

  "Is it going to keep on snowing?" she asked.

  This time he shrugged. That was his only answer. She stared at him, aslow flush came into her cheeks, her eyes hardened.

  "Oh, very well," she said coldly.

  That was the whole of their conversation save for one curt remark and animpudent laugh in answer at the end of the scanty meal. Gloria tossed apiece of bacon into the fire. King looked at her sternly and said:

  "Young lady, we may be up against the real thing right now. Nobody but afool will do a trick like that."

  The laugh was Gloria's.

  * * * * *

  Once on their way they climbed almost steadily. The air grew rarer andcolder. The snowflakes became smaller, at last a fine sifting like sandparticles that cut at hands and face viciously. No longer were theregroves to shelter them; on all sides bare, hostile rocks, and onlyoccasionally a sparse growth of sprawling, earth-hugging dwarf pine andcedar, over which King strode as over so much low, tangled brush. Thencame a long ridge, a spine from which the world dropped almost sheer onboth sides, with the wind raging so that it seemed Buck must be blownoff his feet, or the girl torn from the saddle and borne far out like athistledown. With frightened eyes, which she strove vainly to keepclosed, she saw long, broken slopes; occasionally when the air cleared,a frothing torrent; and once, at the end of a couple of hours, far downin a distant level land, a growth of giant timber. She thought that Kingwas making his way down there. But his purpose soon became plain even toher; he was keeping high on the ridges, going about the head of theravine which lower down cut like a knife across the timbered tract,headed for what he took to be Gus Ingle's cave. A mile away she saw it;a great, ragged, black hole in a high mass of rock, close t
o the crestof the next ridge.

  She was wrapped warmly and yet here the icy breath of the wind piercedthe fabric of her wrappings and hurt her to the bone. She watched Kingwonderingly as he hastened on; did the man have no sense of bodilydiscomfort? Certainly he gave no sign. He was like an animal; she foundroom for a flash of scorn in the thought. For so she was pleased toconsider him lower in the scale than herself.

  At another time she might have seen the world about her clothed ingrandeur; now its sublimity was lost I upon her. It was a raveningbeast, an ugly thing, big and brutal, and ... like King. Oh, how shehated it and him!

  When at last he waited for her and told her to get down she had thesuspicion that he had gone mad. Certainly here was no spot to tarry; itwas on her lips to demur. But she looked at his face and slipped stifflyfrom the saddle. They were high up on the ridge; Gloria, on foot besidehim, clutched at the wind-twisted branch of one of the sprawling cliffgrowths, in sudden panic that she was being swept from her feet. Justbelow them was the deepening cleft in the mountain-side which, furtherdown, widened and descended into the steep-walled gorge. Through itshot a mad, frothy stream. A hundred yards further on, high up in thecliffs, was the yawning hole in the rocks. King, holding Buck's bridle,looked about him and at the sky. Gloria read in his manner a hint ofuncertainty. Hoping to influence his decision, she said quickly:

  "Hadn't we better turn back now?"

  He looked at her steadily before answering.

  "In what," he replied in that impersonal way which maddened her, "haveyou so altered as to be worth a man's broken promise?" And then she knewthat no thought of going back had had any part in his brief indecision.He was going forward, would go forward in anything he undertook; thatwas a part of his make-up. He was merely seeking the best place tounpack and a convenient spot to tether Buck. They were going to makecamp either right here or nearer the cave, perhaps in it. She looked atthe uninviting hole and shivered. She would know his decision when Kingsaw fit to enlighten her.

  Now he merely dumped at her feet the roll from the horse's back, settinghis rifle down against it. Then he led Buck away, zigzagging tediously,at last passing from sight beyond an out jutting monster crag. Gloriacrouched, seeking to shield herself from the whiplashes of the wind. Shelistened to it as it shrieked about the slabs and boulders of granite;the sound was indescribably eerie, filled with unrest, eloquent of thebrutal contempt of the eternal for the feeble and transient. Theuniverse grew utterly lonely; the wind was a whining thing cuttingthrough the silence. And King was so long in coming back....

  The terrifying thought electrified her: "What if he had deserted her?What if he had no intention of coming back?" She should have knownbetter; perhaps, deep down within her, she did know better. But thesuspicion brought its wild flutter; she sprang up and grew rigid intense fright; she felt a strange, glad rush of joy as she saw his hatbobbing up and toward her along the mountain flank. When he rejoinedher she was staring off at nothingness, her back to him.

  He lashed the two canvas rolls together, swung them up to his shoulders,took frying-pan, coffee-pot, and rifle in his free hand, and noddedtoward the small pack of provisions which had been left over from lunch."Better bring those," he advised briefly. "There's no telling what maybe in the cards." He went on along the knife-edge of the ridge, downinto a little depression, up beyond. She hesitated, saw that he had notlooked, bit her lip angrily, and snatched up the parcel. Then shefollowed him, stooping against the wind.

  When she came up with him he had thrown down his pack at the very edgeof the gorge. She came to his side, leaned forward, and looked down. Farbelow plunged the wildest torrent she had ever seen; it hurled itself inmad haste between boulders; it shot down over dizzy falls; it made foritself a white mantle of frothing waters; it looked as black as ebony insections of smoother channel and as cold as death; it spun inwhirlpools, it filled the air with its din. And King meant to go down toit; to cross it; to climb the dizzy cliff upon the further side! Sheknew from his look, without asking. For just across the chasm from themin the highest of the cliffs was the yawning black-mouthed place ofhorrors. If one slipped on those bare rocks, clambering down or climbingon the further side! She sat down suddenly; now when her lip was caughtbetween her teeth it was to fight back the tears. The world was so coldand stern and brutal; this man was so much like the environment; she wasso woefully, desperately heart-sick. On this lofty crest of adevil-tossed land she felt the insignificance of a fly clinging to thebrow of an abyss.

  King went about his task methodically. Gloria watched him rather thanlook across the rocky gorges. Slowly and with difficulty he made his waydown the steep wall of rocks, dragging and pulling the roll of beddingand provisions after him. It required perhaps twenty minutes for him toget to the bottom. She wondered where he would attempt a crossing; thewater looked so black in the pools, so violent over the rapids. He wentup-stream; there lay an old cedar log so that it spanned the current,its sturdy old trunk ten feet above the water. For a moment Kingdisappeared under an out-thrust ledge; then she saw him again, the packon his shoulders. He had climbed up to the top of the log; he wascrossing. Where he went now she must follow!

  Fascinated, she watched him. Once she thought he was going to fall. Butunerringly he trod the rude bridge underfoot, gained the other sidewithout mishap, tossed down his bundle, and lowered himself from the logafter it. Gloria marvelled at him; she could see his face and it wasimpassive. Could he not hear the hostile voices of the raging waters?Could he not feel the ominous threat of the bleak day and the monstercliffs? Was he a man without imagination as he seemed to be withoutfear?

  On he went, down-stream again, clinging to the steep pitch of the gorge,until he was almost under the mouth of the cavern. He put back his headand looked up; it was a hundred feet above him and the cliffs, fromwhere Gloria sat numb with cold and dread, looked unsurmountable. Yet hewas going up them!

  "And where he goes you will follow." It was as though the wild watersbelow were chanting it into her ears and thereafter filling the gorgewith the mockery of derisive laughter.

  Slowly, tediously, but with never a sign of hesitation, King made hisway up the cliff. He had been here before; he knew and remembered everyfoothold and handhold. Nor was the task the impossible one it lookedfrom a distance. There were cracks and crevices; there were seams of aharder material which, better withstanding the attacks of time, werethrust out beyond the general level; on them a man might stand. Therewere spots of softer material, scooped out into pockets by wind andwater; there were flinty splinters; there were places where the wall,looking from across the canon to be sheer and perpendicular, sloped moregently, and a man might crawl up them.

  King had drawn up after him, stage after stage, the roll of bedding,using Blackie's tie-rope to haul it up and to moor it briefly. Gloriasaw it swing at times like a huge, misshapen pendulum; watched it crawlup after him. She saw the wind snatch at it and set it scraping back andforth when he let it dangle at rope's end; she saw King's coat flap inthe wind. Once she cried out aloud, thinking a second time that King wasfalling. If he fell from that height--if he were killed--what then wouldbe the fate of Gloria Gaynor!

  But at length he came safely to the cave's mouth. He stood upright andlooked about him. Then he drew up to his feet the dangling roll; with itin his arms he was gone into that yawning hole. She waited breathlesslyfor his return. She saw him come again into the light; he had the ropein his hand, was coiling it. He began to come down. He was returning forher.

  She did not stir while he made the slow descent, nor while he recrossedon the log and climbed the steep bank to her.

  "I am going to spend the day up there," he told her in his studied aloofmanner. "I'll know soon enough now what truth there is in the story ofGus Ingle's gold. There's room in the cave to sleep, and there's shelterof a sort. To-morrow morning, if I find nothing, I'll start back withyou. If you care to come up now I'll help you."

  "What else is there to do?" cried Gloria, with the first f
lash ofpassion. "What else do you leave me?"

  He slipped a loop of the rope about her waist, taking slow pains not totouch her with his hands, and turned downward again. She followed,filled with sudden fear when they had climbed down ten feet, obeying himhastily when he commanded her to stand still or to move on, feeling herfear grow mightily as they progressed. The wind, strengthening abruptly,tore at her in angry gusts. She was panting and shaking visibly whenfinally she reached the log spanning the stream. He was up before her,offering her his hand. How she hated to touch it! How she feared tofollow him! But her hand went into his, her steps followed his, andwithout hesitation; for there was nothing left now to choice. She lookeddown and saw the water raging below; it was like a monster leaping ather, snatching at her. She wanted to look away and could not. Like onemoving through the fearsome steps of a nightmare she went on, clingingto King's hand, his hand tight upon hers, cold hands which met becausethey must. At last the torrent was behind her; she came down into King'sarms from the log; she was faint and would have sat down. But he urgedher on.

  It was another nightmare climbing up the cliffs to the cave. He wentahead; he stopped and braced himself; he tautened the rope about herwaist and said: "Come on. Slow and careful does it." She clutched withher cold, sore fingers at the rocks, felt the rope tighten, and went upand up. The wind, as though in a fury at losing its quarry, shrieked inher ears, and in mighty gusts strove to drag her hands from the rocksand to set her swinging as it had swung the roll of bedding. She climbedon. King ordered and she obeyed; she waited for him to go up, furtherahead; for him to call to her and draw in on the rope. Stage by stage,weary stages fraught with terror, she toiled up and up and up. And so atlast, when it seemed to her that no strength remained in her, she cameto King's side at the gloomy entrance of Gus Ingle's cave. The formlessblack void before her which under other circumstances would haverepelled, now invited. It offered shelter and rest and protection. Shecrept by King with never a backward glance, and threw herself face downon the uneven floor.