_Chapter XXVI_
Someway he came to the base of the cliffs. He was outside; he was in theopen. And yet he struggled blindly through a pit of gloom. He wasconscious of but one fact in all the world; about it everything elseturned and spun as sweep the bodies of the sky about the sun. He hadlifted his hand against a woman. He, Mark King, had struck a woman. Hehad struck Gloria. His friend's daughter--Ben's daughter. He had struckher.... What had come over him? Had he gone mad? Stark, staring, ravingmad? He knew all along that his nerves were on edge, raw and quivering.But no jangling nerves explained a thing like that. He, who had heldhimself a man, had struck a woman--a girl! A little, defenceless girl.
"My God!" he groaned.
He stumbled on. He did not know where he was going or why. He ran hishand across his eyes again and again. He didn't know why he did that;one couldn't thus wipe out a vision which persisted in his brain. He'dsee her as she stood there every day and night until he died. In asweeping revulsion of feeling he saw himself all that she had named him,a great, hulking brute. All along he had been brutal with her; heshould have made due allowances; he should have been patient. He hadplunged her into an existence of which she had no foreknowledge. He hadlooked to her for the sober sanity of maturity when he should haveremembered how young she was, how little of real life she knew, how shehad been driven to desperation by circumstances which crushed her; howshe had gone sleepless, living on her nerves. He had held her weak andworthless and without spirit or character. And now he could only see herstanding up before him, white but valiant, defying him, unafraid,welcoming death rather than yield to him. He would have given ten yearsoff the span of his life to have the deed of one mad moment wiped clean.
It was a long time before consecutive thought returned to him. And itbrought him only increased bitterness. Gloria had said that she woulddie here rather than have him lead her to safety. Well, he did not blameher for that. Rather, he told himself grimly, he honoured her for it.And yet, now more than ever, his and his alone was the responsibility ofseeing that she went clear of this wretched existence into which he hadstubbornly led her. He could not take her away against her will; hecould not pick her up in his arms and carry her over a two or threedays' journey! Nor could he entrust her to the only other human beingswho were near enough for her to go to. What could he do? She wouldperish without help; hence he must help her. But how?
There was but one possible answer, and in due course of time he came tosee it clearly. He must leave her, get back the shortest, quickest wayto civilization, and send other men, trustworthy men, in for her. Itcould be done even though the storm continued. He could get a dog-team,Alaskan huskies, to be had in Truckee; he could load sledges withprovisions; he could put the right man in charge and then lead the way.That would mean several days alone for Gloria; but what else was there?
And even that solution depended upon the consideration which by now wasthe elemental, all-essential thing; first he must find some sort ofprovisions with which to eke out their small supply. There was notenough in camp to sustain him while he battled with the storm for a wayout and to sustain strength in her while she waited. He must firstreplenish the larder; otherwise they died. He must get fish in plenty ora bear or a deer. He looked at the grey, ominous sky, at the pilingsnow, and the chill of the wilderness struck to his heart. But at lasthis eyes grew hard again with determination.
In a distressed mental condition in which the only solid ground beneathhim was his determination to do to the uttermost that lay within him forGloria, he broke into mutterings, voicing aloud fragments of speech,forcing himself toward steadiness of forward-driving purpose.
"I've got to leave her.... She won't go with me. That means I've got toleave with her every scrap of food we have between us. I can go two dayswithout eating.... I can! A man, if he's half a man, can finish his workbefore he buckles under.... Her one danger is Brodie. Otherwise shewould be safe enough for four or five days. She's got to stick close tothe cave; she must not dare to set foot outside....
"But that's not enough; they might come to the cave.... The way in isnot overwide; would they see it from below? They don't know where it isor they would have done as I did; they would have come to it forshelter.... No, they don't know of it. Can I close up the entrance,somehow, so that they won't find it? There are loose rocks in there....If they _do_ come this way, up the gorge, it will be hard for them tosee it from below.... Even if they should find it, I can show her whereto hide. Way in the back. There's a place there.... I can get out in twodays; back in two days. Somehow. Allow five days to cover accidents.Five days; she can stick it out five days. If I don't take a scrap ofher food away from her.... Oh, I can make it; it is up to me to makeit. I'll get a fish sooner or later--or a rabbit.... A man can eat hisboots."
* * * * *
After a long time he went back to the cave. He knew now just what hewould do, since it had become clear to him that there was but one thingto be done. Gloria faced him as he came in; she marked how he walked,like a very tired man. Her head was up, there were spots of colour inher cheeks; in her eyes was a new look. She had found herself. Or shewas finding herself? Her spirit had risen undaunted in a crisis; in aclash of wills hers had not gone down before his. Rather it had beenhers that had triumphed. She might know fear again, but the time waspast and dead when she would bow meekly before a man's bidding. So shetold herself, while with head erect she awaited his speech.
He began, saying very simply what he had decided must be said. He didnot swerve for the useless words "I am sorry." He knew that she did notexpect them, would not answer them. What he had done was monstrous andunpardonable; hence a man would not ask pardon. By his own act they wereset as far apart as two beings inhabiting two widely separate worlds. Itremained for him merely to instruct her concerning what she must do;then to find the way to bring her back safely to her father. Thereafter?There the haze crept in again; he would go away, far from the Sierra,far from California, to some corner of the world where no man who hadever known Mark King would see him again. At that moment he could havedied very gladly, just to know that she was once more among her ownpeople, and that so far as he was concerned life was a game played outand ended.
Now that he spoke again, his voice was no longer harsh and stern, butgentle rather. Gentle after a steady and matter-of-fact fashion that wasinfinitely aloof. He could not know how impersonal his utterance soundedin her ears, since he did not fully realize how at the moment he heldhimself less an individual addressing another than as the mouthpiece offate.
"The first thing in the morning," he told her, "I am going over theridge and to the headwaters of the other fork. I have been thinking ofthat country a good deal; it's a little far and hard going and I'll burnup a lot of fuel making the trip, but I've got a hunch a bear's inthere. The one that stampeded Buck may have circled around that way. AndI'm going to play every hunch I get, good and strong. It will probablybe dark before I get back."
She thought that he had finished. But presently, in the same strangelyquiet voice, he continued: "I may even be gone all night. If I am itwill be because I am playing the last card.... You have said that youwould rather be dead than go with me. I believe you meant that." Againhe paused. Gloria did not again lift her eyes from the fire; did notspeak. King sighed and did not know that he had done so. "If I don't getback to-morrow night it will be because I am trying to break through tocivilization. I'll outfit a party and send them in for you. I'll getthrough some way in two days; I'll get help back to you in another twoor three at latest. You have food here to keep you alive a week, if youspin it out."
Long before he had gotten to the end of his slow speech her heart wasbeating wildly. The old fears surged back on her, crushing her. To beleft here alone four or five days--and nights! It was unendurable! Shewould be dead.
"You have your choice," he went on, his voice grown still more gentle."If you will let me help you--"
But, even while in the silence that follow
ed she heard the rapid beatingof her own heart, something stronger, more stubborn, than the Gloria ofanother day kept her silent.
And still he had not finished.
"Before I go I am going to do all that I can to wall up the mouth of thecave. It will make it warmer in here and--and there will be less dangerof any one finding the place. You threatened once to go to those othermen; _no matter what happens, you must not do that_. You don't quiteunderstand what some men are. These happen to be the worst of a badcrowd that ever got into these mountains. They respect neither God norman--nor woman. They are in an ugly mood; they probably have morebootleg whiskey with them than food; I did not tell you, but I looked inon their camp and saw one of them, a dope fiend named Benny Rudge, shootone of his own friends dead, suspecting him of having stolen a side ofbacon. You would be better dead, too, than in their hands. Never forgetthat. They don't know if they'll ever get out of this alive; they aredesperate devils.
"But with the cave walled up, they won't find you. If the worst shouldhappen and they came here, still you could hide. I'll show you theplace, far back in the cave. You could run there with your blankets andfood; you could stay there, never moving. No man could find you there.They would see where we had been here, but they would have to decide inthe end that we had gone, both of us.
"I'll bring you plenty of wood; I am going to make a pair of snow-shoesof a sort for me; I'll make a pair for you. I hope you won't need them."He ran his hand across his brow but continued in a moment, his voiceunchanged: "I'll go out before daylight in the morning; it will take meall that is left of to-day to do what must be done first."
He turned then and went about his work. She went back to the place bythe fire, terribly moved, agitated to the depths of her soul, torn thisway and that. But one steady fire burned in her bosom--the newly kindledwhite flame of her resentment. Just yonder, where he had hurled it, agrim reminder, lay the rope.
He brought fragments of rock to the cave's mouth, the biggest he couldfind, boulders which he rolled from the further dark, and with which hestruggled mightily as he piled them one on the other. Higher and higherhe built his rude wall, placing the smaller stones at the top. And intime, after hours of labour, he had hidden the great hole as best hecould, leaving only at the side a way to pass in and out which couldhardly be seen from below. Across this he fixed the canvas; were thatglimpsed, its grimy-white would appear but a lighter-hued streak ofgranite.
"If you will come with me, I will show you your hiding-place."
She lifted her head and looked at him. No word had passed between themduring the back-breaking hours of his labouring. Again, she thoughtswiftly, he was seeking to command, to dictate. Doubtless, in the endshe would have arisen and gone with him, since to refuse were madness.But he had not waited. He had gone alone into the depths of the cavern;she heard his slow, measured steps receding; she heard them again, slowand measured, as he came back.
"It's only about thirty paces, straight back," he was saying. "My steps,remember, but shortened so that it would be about the same for you. Saythirty-five. There I have made a little pile of rocks; you can't missit. That marks the place, just at the side of the rock pile. That'swhere I found the gold. There is a blind cave back there, just underthis one; there's only a small entrance to it, straight down, a raggedhole in the floor, hardly more than big enough for a man to drop downthrough. I had it hidden by dragging a boulder over it. Now I haveshoved the boulder just far enough to one side to let you go through.Also, I have set bits of stone under its outside edge so that it isfairly balanced; if you go through, a quick tug at it will topple itover to cover the hole again. There's air down there, that comes up frombelow. And it's a better place to be than here--if any one should come."
She shuddered. But he had not seen. There remained much to do and thehours fled so swiftly. He set to work making the clumsy snow-shoes. Heimitated a crude native shoe he had once seen in Alaska; he bent willowwands he had brought from along the edge of the stream, whipping themabout with narrow strips of canvas, binding other wands crosswise,making, also of canvas strips, a sort of stirrup for each foot. The lastof the weak daylight passed and died gloomily and he was still at histask, bending now by his fire, working on with infinite care. Thesticks, brittle with the cold weather, broke under his strong fingers;patiently he inserted others or strengthened the cracking pieces withstring. His face, ruddy in the firelight, was impassive; Gloria, lookingat him, saw no mere man but a senseless thing of machine levers andsteel coils; something tireless and hard and as determined as fateitself.
They had made their scanty suppers; after it both were hungry. They hadbeen hungry thus for four days. There remained coffee and sugar enoughfor another half-dozen meagre meals; here the affluence ended. The baconwas down to a piece of fat two inches thick and seven inches long; therewas bacon grease a couple of inches deep in a tomato-can; there was ateacup of flour; there was one small tin of sardines and a smaller oneof devilled meat. To-day they were hungry, to-morrow they would be agreat deal hungrier, the next day they would begin to starve.... Kinggot up and went out, down the cliffs in the dark, for a last load ofwood. When he came back she was lying on her bed, her face from thelight. He stood a moment looking at her. Then for the last time he spoketo her:
"If I am long gone, you understand why. It would be best to save foodall you can; not to stir about much, since exercise means burning upmore strength, which must be renewed and by still more food.... There isnot a chance in a thousand now that those men will find this place; ifthey do, there is not a chance in another thousand that they will findthe middle cave. You will be safe enough.... And, if I do not get backto-morrow, you will know that within three days more, or four at most,there will be a party in here to bring you out."