_Chapter IX_
Three or four weeks passed before Mark King and Gloria met again. Weeksof busy gaiety on her part, of steady, persistent seeking on his. Nowagain Gloria and her mother and Ben were at the log house in themountains, this time with a fresh set of guests. Only one of the formerflock had been invited: Mr. Gratton. And this despite Ben Gaynor'suneasy "This chap Gratton, Nellie. He's cutting in pretty strong here oflate, and I don't know that I like him. He's too confounded smoothsomehow."
King came the day after the guests arrived for a talk with Ben. Gloriaknew that he was coming and was coolly prepared to meet him. She gavehim a bright little nod, friendly enough but casual, and resumed herlively chatter with her friends. King went off with Gaynor. That nightthere was no moon, but the stars, those great glittering stars of theSierra, made the hour softly palpitant. King betook himself to smokeupon that particular, remembered corner of the porch; Gloria, slippingout from a dance, felt the little thrill that would not down when shefound him there. In their two chairs, necessarily close together sincethe nook was so cosily narrow, her shoulder now and then brushing his asshe moved, the faint fragrances from her gown and hair blown across hisface by the night breeze--for them his pipe hastily laid aside--they sattalking softly or in a pleasant silence. The next morning--the matterseemed to arrange itself with very little help from either--they were tohave a ride together This time they would take their lunch. When theysaid good-night Gloria impulsively gave him her two hands; he rememberedhow she had done that the first time he had seen her. Her face waslifted up to his; in the starlight he saw her eyes shining softly,gloriously; he saw her mouth, the lips barely apart. For an instant hishands shut down hard on hers; he felt the faint pressure of her own inreturn. When they heard her mother in the doorway calling, "Gloria,where are you?" they started apart. A strange and unanalysed sense ofsecrecy had fallen upon them; Gloria whispered, "Good-night, Mark," andthen calling, "Here I am, mamma; just cooling off," she went skippingdown the porch, slipped her arm about her mother, and carried her backinto the house.
* * * * *
Before the new day was fairly come they met in the fringe of pines.Again they shook hands; again for an instant they stood as they hadstood last night. They were tremblingly close to the first kiss.Suddenly Gloria, with her colour high and her eyes hidden under lasheswhich King marvelled at, lashes laid tenderly against her cheeks, pulledher hands out of his and began drawing on her gauntlets. Gravely, asthough here were a rite to be approached solemnly, he lifted her intothe saddle. They turned their horses and rode up the ridge among thetrees.
They heard together the first sleepy twitterings of hidden birds; theysaw the black shadows thinning; they watched the light come upon thepeaks. Ridges shook off the shadow cloaks, seemed to quiver as theyawoke to the new day, grew flushed and rosy. The chill of the earlymorning air was like wine, sparkling, tingling in the blood. The smellof resinous woods was insistent, the fine bouquet to the rare vintage.The day, the world, themselves--all were young together--all awakeningto the full, true, and triumphant meaning of life. They rode a mile withnever a spoken word but in a never-broken communion; then it was Gloriawho spoke first, saying, as she had said once before: "I love it!"
They followed narrow trails through the ceanothus-bushes, riding onebehind the other; they climbed steep trails among the pines; then wentdown steep trails among granite boulders; they rode side by side throughlittle upland valleys and grassy meadows. They broke off sprays ofresinous needles as they rode, inhaling the sharp odours; they stoopedfor handfuls of fragrant sage; they splashed through swampy places wherethe grass and stalks of lush flowers swept their stirrups, throughrock-bound noisy streams where they must pick their way cautiously, andwhere the horses snorted and shook their heads and Gloria laughedgleefully. To-day was like the completion of that other day when theyhad ridden to Coloma--to both it seemed that it was only yesterday. Theweeks in between did not matter; they were wiped out of life by thegreen magic. Unfinished topics, left over from the first ride, presentedthemselves now to be completed. Once Gloria, speaking of their firstwoodland luncheon, said "Yesterday." Once King, as they crossed a wildmountain brook, said, "There's one's nest now. On that rock down by thewaterfall. Looks like a bit of the rock itself, with moss all about it,"and Gloria understood that it was her water-ouzel he was talking about.
"It was springtime yesterday and to-day it's summer!" said Gloria.
"It's always springtime somewhere in the world," answered King. "To-daywe'll ride from one season up into the other."
"More magic!" laughed Gloria.
It is always springtime somewhere in the world! As youth knows andremembers, as age forgets. Always a place somewhere for laughter andlove and light hands caressing, for bird song and bird mating andcolourful flowers. And to-day they were seeking this place among themountains, riding on expectantly through dark passes, climbing windingtrails, looking across deep canons and blue ridges. Gloria thoughtdreamily that she would like always to be riding thus, leaving summerbehind and below, questing the joyous, full-sapped springtime.
He had promised to show her his latest temporary camp. They came to itbefore noon at an altitude of well above seven thousand feet. In agrassy open space they left their horses; King carried their lunchbundle and they went on on foot. Along the frothing creek, along themountain-side through a wild country of dwarfed vegetation. She began tounderstand a thing he had told her; that the Sierra is the land of dwarfand giant. Pine and cedar and, in one spot he knew, mighty sequoiapiercing at the sky; and here pine, dwarfed, pygmied until it was but amat of twisted, broken twigs carpeting the heights. "And I have walkedamong the pine tops!" cried Gloria. For up here there was scant soil;here the winds raged and the snow heaped itself high in the late falland remained, icy-crusted, into late summer; and here, now, thespringtime had just come. Never had Gloria seen more beautiful flowers,flowers half so delicate-looking. And yet how hardy they must be, tolive here at all!
"You are like these flowers," King said quite gravely and withsincerity. Gloria told him, also gravely and sincerely, that that wasthe finest compliment she had ever received--she hoped that he meant it.At least she understood and she would like to be like them.
His camp was in a little nearly level spot, sheltered by crags and sohidden by them that one must come fairly upon it before guessing itsproximity. Back of it rose cliffs so sheer that Gloria craned her neckto look up at them. Below were the headwaters of the creek; across itthe steep slope of the other canon wall. On all hands bleak, naked rockwith tiny blossoms here and there between in the shallow soil and thecarpeting of pygmy pine and flattened cedar. Only infrequently did atree, with roots gripping like claws, lift its ragged top above the bigboulders. A wild place, savagely silent save for the hissing of the windaround the cliffs above.
King brought water from the creek. He showed her where he had hidden hisfew camp utensils; the one small pot, one frying-pan, one cup, onespoon. To these he added his big-bladed pocket-knife. He made a firewhere already there was a little heap of charred coals against ablackened rock, and they made coffee and cooked bacon. Gloria used astick which he had pointed for her to turn the bacon. They took turnswith the one cup.
"What was it like up on the cliff tops?" King did not know; he had notyet been up there. And would it take long to climb them? Not over anhour, he estimated; if she wasn't tired? It was decided that King wouldhave his postprandial smoke up there; where they could sit and look out"across the top of the world."
As they climbed they came into a current of rushing air. Higher up thewind strengthened. They stood poised on boulders, their shoulders thrownback, heads up, lungs filling. Gloria's hair was whipped out from underher turban; it blew across her face; a strand of it fluttered acrossKing's eyes, brushed his lips. He gave her his hand up a steep placedown which they sent a cascade of disintegrating stone. They stood sideby side, shoulders brushing, resting, breathing deeply. Perceptibly theair thinned
; one's lungs were taxed to capacity here; the bloodclamoured for deeper drafts, for more oxygen. When they came to the topGloria dropped down, panting, though they had stopped many times on theway. She closed her eyes and her senses swam through a vast blur. Kinggave her a drink from his canteen; she merely thanked him with her eyes.
But in ten minutes she had rested and was on her feet, her slim bodyleaning against the wind. He stood by her and they looked out across themountains. For what seemed to Gloria a thousand miles there was thebroken wilderness of mountains gashed with gorges, crowned with peaks,painted with sunlight and distance, glinting white here, veiled inpurple there. She gasped at the bigness of it; it spoke of the vastnessof the world and of the world's primitive savagery. And yet it did notrepel; it fascinated and its message had the seeming of an old,oft-told, and half-forgotten tale. It threatened with its spires ascruel as bared fangs, and yet it beckoned and invited with its bluedistances. Always, since the first man fashioned the first club and madehim a knife of a jagged flint, has mankind battled with the greatmother, the earth who bore him. He has striven with her for his food,warred with her for his raiment, entrenched himself against themerciless attack of the seasons, winter to stab him with icy spear,summer to consume him. And always has he loved her and honoured her,since she is his great mother. Gloria, her thoughts confused byconflicting instincts, inspired and awed, drew closer to King.
"--But to be out here alone!" The utter, utter loneliness of it. Shelooked at him with new, curious eyes. "Doesn't it bear down on you;don't you feel at times that the loneliness----"
He understood.
"I am used to it, you know. I have never known what it was out here tofeel lonely until----"
She waited for him to finish, her eyes on his. Until----?
"Until after our first ride together," he said.
Again she understood. And now she looked away hastily and her cheeksreddened. He was about to tell her that he loved her; his eyes had toldher; his lips were shaping to the words "I love you!" And she wassuddenly conscious of a wild nutter in her heart; she was trembling asthough terrified. Other men had told her "I love you." Many times and inmany ways--smiling, with a laugh, with a sigh--whispering the words orsaying them half sternly. And she had always been gay and ready; alittle thrilled, perhaps, as by a chance strain of music. But now--shecould hardly breathe. Now she was frightened. She did not know why; shecould not understand the sense of it; she only knew that she was afraid.Of what? Nor did she know that. She only knew that here were GloriaGaynor and Mark King, man and girl--man and woman--set apart from theworld, lifted above it, clear-cut figures upon a pinnacle piercing theinfinite blue of the heavens, and that a mystery was unfolding beforethem. She had a wild wish to stop the flight of time, to thrust it backupon itself, to have the present not the present but to avoid the Now byracing back into the serenity of Just A Little While Ago. Ten minutesago--anything but this electric, terrifying moment when Mark King, asurge of emotion upon him, was about to say: "I love you."
"Look!" Gloria started and, forgetful of the strange conflict ofemotions within her, clutched at his sleeve. "A man--here;----"
"Swen Brodie!" muttered King angrily.
Brodie had just clambered up the ridge and came into view only when hishead and bulky shoulders were upthrust beyond a boulder. He came onuntil he topped the boulder, standing fully revealed upon its flattishtop, the butt of his rifle resting on his boot. Gloria was suddenlyafraid with a new sort of fear. Though this man was not near enough forher to see the dancing evil of his little eyes, she saw the brutish facein full relief against the sky, and marked the jeer on the ugly mouth.Her one wild thought was that Brodie would murder them both, shoot themboth down in cold blood. She shuddered. King was unarmed; Brodie hatedKing as only a man of Brodie's kind, bestial and cruel, could hate. Sheremembered what her father had told her; of the death of Andy Parker.She began tugging at King.
"Take me away!" she gasped. And then, with a terrified look over hershoulder: "Oh, he is terrible!"
Perhaps Brodie heard. The stiff wind blew her words away from her lips,tossing them toward him.
"Steady, Gloria," said King in a low voice. "I'll take you away. But weneedn't hurry. He won't hurt you." And, to further soothe her, he added:"He'd be afraid to shoot, were he minded to. The noise of the gun, youknow. And he doesn't know how many there are with us, or how close theyare. Come, we'll go this way."
He turned his back square on Brodie and with his hand firm on Gloria'sarm led her along the ridge. They passed about a wind-worn rock, andGloria looked back, hoping that it had hidden them already from Brodie;she saw his head over the top of it, felt upon her the eyes which shecould not see, lost as they were under his hat-brim and hurried on. Sheran ahead now with King hastening his step to overtake her.