CHAPTER XXIV
TO SPRUCE CROSSING
The eyes of the night were there alone to see. It was as well. Thereare moments in men's lives when it is best that it should be so.Passions are not always sane. They are not always human.
So it was with Jeffrey Masters. The change in him had been rapid. Itwas almost magical. Always one who lacked something of the softerhuman qualities, he yet must have been counted a man of balance. Ifsympathy, sentiment, were never his strong points, he was by no meanslacking in loyalty, kindliness, rightness of purpose. All his life,achievement, achievement under the strictest canons of honesty, ormoral scruple, had been the motive urging him. He had seen neither tothe right nor to the left of these things.
Then had come the woman into his life and the lighting of those naturalfires which belong to all human life. He yielded to them, and thesuddenness of it all seemed to sweep away every cooler method which hadalways governed him. There had been no thought, no calculation in hisyielding, such as might have been expected. He was the victim of hisown temperament. His powerful restraint had been suddenly relaxed.And, for the time, he had been completely overwhelmed by the intensityof his passion.
But this passion for the woman who had so suddenly entered his life wasmerely the opening of vials of emotion hitherto held sealed. It was noradical transformation. All that had been his before still remained,buried perhaps for the moment under the avalanche of feeling, butnevertheless still occupying its place. These things could not beswept away. They could not be destroyed. They would remain when thepassionate fires had completely burned themselves out.
But the unlooked-for had happened. These fires had not been permittedto burn themselves out. They had been extinguished, deluged out ofexistence when the idol of his worship was flung headlong from itspedestal by the complete revolt of his moral being. His prejudices,his instincts, matured through years of effort, were the stronger partof him, and the conflict was decided before it began. The shock ofdiscovery had brought a terrible reaction. His love was killed underthe blow. And though for a while the sense of overwhelming disasterhad been crushing, the measure of that disaster was taken swiftly. Itleft him disillusioned, it left him harder, colder. But it left himsane.
These things were not all, however. On this night he had approachedfar nearer the hell which only a woman can create for a man than hisfirst discovery had borne him. The irony of it was perfect. Out ofher great love for him, solely in his interest, in a great desire toshield him from a danger she saw threatening him, she had contrived toconvince him that she had been as ready to sacrifice him, hisinterests, the interests of his friends, as she had been to accept theprice offered for the blood of his twin brother.
So the eyes of the night looked down upon the haunting figure of a manwho knew neither mercy, nor pity, nor hope. The world of humanhappiness had closed its doors upon him, and his whole spirit and bodydemanded a fierce retaliation.
That was the mood which looked out of his coldly shining eyes. Thatwas the mood which drove the horse under him at a headlong gait, andleft his spurs blood-stained upon his heels. That was the mood thatleft him caring nothing for any danger that might lurk under cover ofthe starlit dark of night. The fierceness of his temper demandedoutlet. Bodily outlet. Active conflict. Anything, so that a burninglust for hurt should be satisfied. He cared nothing at all forhimself. No bodily suffering could compare with the anguish of mind hehad passed through, was still passing through. And so he rode headlongtill the youth accompanying him was hard put to it to keep pace withhim.
The hammering of the horses' hoofs upon the sun-baked earth was afitting accompaniment to his mood. The sigh of the night breezesthrough the trees was no less desolate than his heart. Nor was thedarkness one whit more dark than the stream of thought which flowedthrough his hot brain.
Not one word did he exchange with the man behind him. In truth theyouth who had brought the summons had no part in the thing that washappening, at least not in Jeffrey Masters' mind. There was no onebesides himself in this. There was just himself and his goal--whateverthat might bring forth--with a wild, almost insane desire to actfiercely and without mercy should opportunity offer.
The land rose and fell, from hill to valley, from valley to hill. Theway lay through avenues of bluff-lined grass, or across hollows ofvirgin pasture. Trickling mountain streams barred the way, only to bepassed without a thought of their depth, or the dangers of theirtreacherous, sodden banks. The mountain barrier ahead, looming darklyforbidding in the starlight, with its mazing hollows and woodlandcrowns, was incapable of inspiration at the moment. There are momentswhen Nature's profoundest awe is powerless to affect the mind of man.These were such moments. The whole mind of Jeffrey Masters wasabsorbed till there was no room for any influence which did not ariseout of the burden of his bitterness.
But if he were indifferent to his surroundings, the man riding hardbehind him moved with eyes and ears fully alert. That which he wasseeking would have been impossible to tell. Nevertheless every shadowseemed to possess interest, every night sound to possess some qualityworth remarking. Not for an instant, after the hills had been entered,did his vigilance relax.
Spruce Crossing lay deep in the hills, a clearing to the south of thejunction of converging mountain streams. It was a mere cattle station,neither better nor worse than several others lying on the outskirts ofthe Obar territory. Yet it was important that it headed a valleyrunning north and south amongst the hills, where the grass was sweet,and rich, and fattening, one of those surprise natural pastures whichthe hills love to yield occasionally to those who seek out their wealth.
A glimmer of light, like some distant star fallen to earth from itsvelvet setting above, marked the station, house. It was visible at agreat distance down the flat stretch of the valley. The ranchman'shorse was headed directly for it, and the animal moved readily, eagerlynow, nor were the spurs needed to urge him further. The instinct ofits journey's end was sufficient to encourage its flagging spirits.
The distant light grew brighter. It took on the rectangular form of awindow opening in a log-built hut.
Jeffrey Masters had fixed his gaze upon it, and so the shadowy sceneabout him passed all unnoticed. He saw nothing of the darker objectslying on the ground adjacent to his way. The slumbering kine whichbore his brand remained all unheeded. He had no thought for them. Hiscourse took him over a track which passed down a land between twofenced pastures. These, too, were stocked with fattening steers, orwith the brood cows and their attendant calves. At another time, underother conditions, these things would have held for him an absorbinginterest. Now they concerned him not at all.
The dark pastures gave place to a number of corrals, also lost in thesummer night. A dog barked. Then, in a moment, its sharp yelps becamesilent, and the stillness became once more unbroken except for the hardpounding hoofs of the two horsemen approaching.
A few moments later these sounds ceased as the dark outline of thestation house itself took shape.
For a few seconds Jeff gazed at the window opening where the light fromwithin was still shining. A sound had caught and held his attention.It came from within the hut, and there was no mistaking it. It was thesound inspired by physical suffering, and the voice that uttered it wasa man's. He sprang out of the saddle and turned to hand his horse tothe man who had accompanied him. But he found himself standing alone.
With a shrug of the shoulders he left his horse and turned at once tothe hut. Just for an instant he hesitated once more. It was histhought to look in through the window. The hesitation passed. Thenext moment he passed along the lateral log walls to the far end of thebuilding where he knew the door to be situated.
The door was closed. He placed his hand on the heavy wooden latch. Asecond passed. He glanced over his shoulder. It had occurred to himto wonder at the sudden going of the youth who had accompanied him.
But there was neither sight nor sound of the
vanished youth. He raisedthe latch and swung the door open.