CHAPTER VII
Because the road led north, they traveled north. Week after week, monthafter month, sometimes by hard, long stretches where water was scarce,sometimes lingering where pasturage was good, sometimes halting to let afever run its course, they pushed northward. The farther they went, themore barren became the wilderness. The feudal mansions of the wealthycoffee-planters gave way to the miserable abodes of a land of drought.But houses were never far between, and wherever there were houses, therewas cane rum. It was so cheap it was often given away for a smile.
Twice in the long months Shenton had eluded his watchful father, once byslipping his saddle-cloth and going back to pick it up, and once byriding ahead on a misty morning. Each time he stole back with hangingand drooping shoulders. The look of utter despondency and gloomy despairin his eyes wrung his parents' hearts, held back his father's hand fromwrath.
Of them all, Shenton suffered most from fever. There came a time when hecould no longer ride. Natalie, grown pale and thin, but strong withal,took his place on the pony and he hers on the wagon. There he lay longhours in his mother's arms.
When all the storms of life had swept over her, Ann Leighton looked backupon those days as the abiding-place of her dearest memories. Safewithin the circle of her arms lay her boy. There no evil could reachhim, no gnawing temptation ravage his child's will. Her watchful lovewarded off the gloomy hour. His prattle of childish things warmed herheart until it swelled to an exquisite agony of content.
One day they awoke to a new presence on the flat horizon. Far, far awayrose a mountain from the plain. It was wonderfully symmetrical, risingto a single peak. All day long they traveled toward it. All day longShenton kept his somber eyes fixed upon it. Toward evening he raised hisface to his mother's. She leaned over him.
"Mother," he whispered, "I should like to reach the mountain."
Tears welled from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She heldShenton's curly head against her face so that he could not see. Shestifled a sob and whispered back:
"My boy, you will reach the mountain."
The next day a man of the country joined them. He was dressed in a suitand hat of deerskin. On his feet were sandals. Across one shoulder hecarried a stick from which dangled a bundle. His quick, springy stridecarried him easily beside the cavalcade.
"The blessing of God be upon your Mercies," was his greeting. "Whence doyou come and whither do you go? Tell him who so rudely asks, I beg you.I am John, the Courier."
Ann and the Reverend Orme looked vaguely at each other. They had noanswer. But Shenton spoke.
"Friend," he said, "we come from the South. We journey to yondermountain. What is it called?
"It is called the Sorcerer."
"The Sorcerer?" cried Shenton. "That is a strange-name."
"It is called the Sorcerer," said the man, "because it deceives. It is alandmark in the wilderness, but it shows no man the way. So equal areits sides, that it points neither east nor west nor south nor north.Upon, its summit is a single tree, planted by no human hands."
"I see the tree," said Shenton. "Mother, do you see the tree? It is likethe steeple on a church." Then he turned to the courier. "Friend, themountain points upward."
They camped at the foot of the mountain, for fever had laid its finalgrip upon Shenton. He was too weak to stand the jolting of the wagon.One night, while lying in his mother's arms, he slipped away from life.
Leighton looked upon his boy's face, still alight with content at havingreached the mountain, upon his white, blue-veined body, so pitifullyfrail, and marveled that a frame so weak, so tender, so peaceful, hadbeen only now a mighty battle-field.
He gathered up the body in his arms, and calling roughly to Lewis tobring an ax, he started up the barren mountainside.
Ann, dumb and tearless, stood before the tent, and watched him withunseeing eyes. Natalie, crying, clutched her skirt. At her feet satmammy, her face upturned, tears flowing, her body swaying to her sobs.
Up and up climbed Leighton with Lewis panting behind him. They reachedthe towering summit of the mountain.
A great rock stood at the foot of the lonely tree. Beneath it Leightondug with ax and hands. He tore branches from the tree and spread themwithin. Upon the fresh, green couch he laid the body of his boy. He fellupon his knees before it and tried to pray, but could not.
"O, Death," he groaned, "to this young soul hast thou been kind." Thenwith many stones they closed the tomb.
Leighton looked wistfully about him. He was seized by the primitivedesire of man to leave some visible sign of overwhelming grief. His eyesrose above the rock to the lonely tree. Grasping the ax, he climbed thetree. High above the mountain-top he cut its stem. Then limb after limbfell crashing to the earth until only two were left. Out one and thenthe other he clambered and cut them off. The lonely tree was no more; inits place stood a mighty cross.
From far away across the plain, John, the Courier, looked back. His keeneyes fell upon the mountain. He stopped and stared.
"Ah, Sorcerer," he murmured, "hast thou now a heart? What power hascrowned thy brow with the holy cross? Behold! one arm points to therising sun and one to its setting. I shall no longer call thee Sorcerer,for thou art become the Guide."
At the edge of the plain stretched a line of hills. Within them was alittle valley that looked toward the distant mountain. Leightonpurchased the valley from its owner, Dom Francisco, who prized itlightly beside his vast herds of cattle.
At the top of the valley, and facing the mountain, Leighton built hisnew abode, four walls and a roof of homemade tiles. When it wasfinished, he looked upon its ugliness and said, "The Lord hath crushedmy heart to infinite depths. Let us call this place Nadir."