CHAPTER XXI
ADVENTURING
If Connie truly was in pursuit of literary material, she wasindefatigable in the quest. But sometimes Carol doubted if it wasaltogether literary material she was after. And David was very muchconcerned,--what would dignified Father Starr, District Superintendent,say to his youngest daughter, Connie the literary, Connie the proud,Connie the high, the fine, the perfect, delving so assiduously into themysteries of range life as typified in big, brown, rugged Prince Ingram?To be sure, Prince had risen beyond the cowboy stage and was now a "stockman," a power on the ranges, a man of money, of influence. But Davidfelt responsible.
Yet no one could be responsible for Connie. Father Starr himself couldnot. If she looked at one serenely and said, "I need to do this," therankest foolishness assumed the proportions of dire necessity. So whatcould David, sick and weak, do in the face of the manifestly impossible?
Carol scolded her. And Connie laughed. David offered brotherlysuggestions. And Connie laughed again. Julia said Prince was a darlingbig grandpa, and Connie kissed her.
The Frontier Days passed on to their uproarious conclusion. Connie saweverything, heard everything and took copious notes. She was going tostart her book. She had made the acquaintance of some of the cowgirls,and she studied them with a passionate eagerness that English literaturein the abstract had never aroused in her gentle breast.
Then she became argumentative. She contended that the beautiful lawn atthe Bijou was productive of strength for David, rest for Carol, amusementfor Julia, and literary material for her. Therefore, why not lingerafter the noisy crowd had gone,--just idling on the long porches,strolling under the great trees? And because Connie had a convincing wayabout her, it was unanimously agreed that the Bijou lawn could doeverything she claimed for it, and by all means they ought to tarry aweek.
It was all settled before David and Carol learned that Prince Ingram wastired of Frontier Days and had decided not to go on to Sterling, butthought he too should linger, gathering up something worth while in FortMorgan. Carol looked at Connie reproachfully, but the little baby sisterwas as imperturbable as ever.
Prince himself was all right. Carol liked him. David liked him, too.And Julia was frankly enchanted with him and with his horse. But Connieand Prince,--that was the puzzle of it,--Connie, fine white, immaculatein manner, in person and in thought,--Prince, rugged and brown, born ofthe plains and the mountains. Carol knew of course that Prince couldmove into the city, buy a fine home, join good clubs, dress like commonmen and be thoroughly respectable. But to Carol he would always be abrown streak of perfect horsemanship. Whatever could that awful Conniebe thinking of?
The days passed sweetly and restfully on the Bijou lawn, but one day,most unaccountably to Connie, Prince had an appointment with his businesspartner down at Brush. He would ride Ruby down and be back in time fordinner at night if it killed him. Connie was cross about that. Shethought he should have asked her to drive him down in the car but sincehe did not she couldn't very well offer her services. What did hesuppose she was hanging around that ugly little dead burg for? Take outthe literary material, Fort Morgan had nothing for Connie. And since theliterary material saw fit to absent itself, it was so many hours gone fornothing.
After he had gone, Connie decided to play a good trick on him. He wouldkill himself to get back to dinner with her, would he? Let him. Hecould eat it with David and Carol, and the little Julia he so adored.Connie would take a long drive in the car all by herself, and would notbe home until bedtime. She would teach that refractory Material a lesson.
It was a bright cloudless day, the air cold and penetrating. Connie saidit was just the day for her to collect her thought, and she could do itbest of all in the car. So if they would excuse her,--and they did, ofcourse. Just as she was getting into the car she said that if she had avery exceptionally nice time, she might not come back until after dinner.They were not to worry. She knew the car, she was sure of herself, shewould come home when she got ready.
So off she went, taking a naughty satisfaction in the good trick she wasplaying on that poor boy killing himself to get back for dinner with her.An hour in the open banished her pettishness, and she drove rapidly alongthe narrow, twisting, unfamiliar road, finding a wild pleasure in herreckless speed. She loved this, she loved it, she loved it. She clappedon a little more gas to show how very dearly she did love it.
After a long time, she found herself far out in a long stretch of grayprairie where no houses broke the bare line of the plains for many miles.It had grown bitterly cold, too, and a sudden daub of gray splashedrapidly across the whole bright sky. Connie drew a rug about her andlaughed at the wind that cut her face. It was glorious,--but--sheglanced at the speedometer. She had come a long way. She would just runon to the next village and have some luncheon,--mercy, it was threeo'clock. Well, as soon as she had something to eat, she would hurry homeand perhaps if Prince showed himself properly penitent she would not goright straight to bed.
She pressed down on the accelerator and the car sped forward. Presentlyshe looked around, sniffing the air suspiciously. The sky looked verythreatening. She stopped the car and got out. The wind sweeping downfrom the mountains was a little too suggestive of snow flakes, and thebroad stretch of the plains was brown, bare and forbidding. She was nothungry anyhow. She would go home without any luncheon. So she turnedthe car and started back.
Here and there at frequent intervals intersecting roads crossed the oneshe was following. She must keep to the main road, the heaviest track,she was sure of that. But sometimes it was hard to recognize theheaviest track. Once or twice, in the sudden darkening of the ground,she had to leap hurriedly out and examine the tracks closely. Even thenshe could not always tell surely.
Then came the snow, stinging bits of glass leaping gaily on the shouldersof the wind that bore them. Connie set her teeth hard. A little flurrythat was all, she was in no danger, whoever heard of a snow-storm thefirst week in October?
But--ah, this was not the main track after all,--no, it was dwindlingaway. She must go back. The road was soft here, with deep treacherousruts lying under the surface. She turned the car carefully, her eyesintent on the road before her, leaning over the wheel to watch. Yes,this was right,--she should have turned to the left. How stupid of her.Here was the track,--she must go faster, it was getting dark. But wasthis the track after all,--it seemed to be fading out as the other haddone? She put on the gas and bumped heavily into a hidden rut. Quicklyshe threw the clutch into low, and--more gas-- What was that? The wheeldid not grip, the engine would not pull,--the matchless Harmer Six washelpless. Again and again Connie tried to extricate herself, but it wasuseless. She got out and took her bearings. It was early evening, butdarkness was coming fast. The snow was drifting down from the mountains,and the roads were nearly obliterated.
Connie was stuck, Connie was lost, for once she was unequal to theemergency. In spite of her imperturbability, her serene confidence inherself, and in circumstances, and in the final triumph of everything shewanted and believed, Connie sat down on the step and cried, bitterly,passionately, like any other young women lost in a snow-storm on theplains. It did her good, though it was far beneath her dignity.Presently she wiped her eyes.
She must turn on the lights, every one of them, so if any travelershappened to come her way the signal would summon them to her aid. Thenshe must get warm, one might freeze on a night like this. She put up thecurtains on the car and wrapped herself as best she could in rugs andrain coats. Even then she doubted her ability to withstand thepenetrating chill.
"Well," she said grimly, "if I freeze I am going to do it with a pleasantsmile on my lips, so they will be sorry when they find me." Tears ofsympathy for herself came into her eyes. She hoped Prince would be quiteheart-broken, and serve him right, too. But it was terrible that poordear Carol should have this added sorrow, after all her years of trial.And it was all Connie's own
fault. Would women ever have sense enough tolearn that men must think of business now and then, and that even thedearest women in the world are nuisances at times?
Well, anyhow, she was paying dearly for her folly, and perhaps otherwomen could profit by it. And all that literary material wasted. "Butit is a good thing I am not leaving eleven children motherless," sheconcluded philosophically.
If men must think of business, and they say they must, there are timeswhen it is sheer necessity that drives and not at all desire. PrinceIngram hated Brush that day with a mortal hatred. Only two days more ofConnie, and a few thousand silly sheep were taking him away. Well, hehad paid five hundred dollars for Ruby and he would find out if she wasworth it. He used his spurs so sharply that the high-spirited maresnorted angrily, and plunged away at her most furious pace. It was notan unpleasant ride. His time had been so fully occupied with the mostwonderful girl, that he had not had one moment to think how reallywonderful she was. This was his chance and he utilized it fully.
His business partner in Brush was shocked at Prince's lack of interest ina matter of ten thousand dollars. He wondered if perhaps King Devil hadnot bounced him up more than people realized. But Prince was pliant, farmore so than usual, accepted his partner's suggestions without dissent,and grew really enthusiastic when he said finally:
"Well, I guess that is all."
Prince shook hands with him then, seeming almost on the point of kissinghim, and Ruby was whirling down the road in a chariot of dust before thebewildered partner had time to explain that his wife was expecting Princehome with them for dinner.
Prince fell from the saddle in front of the Bijou and looked expectantlyat the porch. He was sentimental enough to think it must be splendid tohave a girl waiting on the porch when one got home from any place.Connie was not there. Well, it was a good thing, he was grimy with dustand perspiration, and Connie was so alarmingly clean. But Carol calledhim before he had time to escape.
"Is it going to storm?" she asked anxiously.
Prince wheeled toward her sharply. "Is Connie out in the car?"
"Yes," said Carol, staring off down the road in a vain hope of catchingsight of the naughty little runaway in the gray car.
"When did she go?" he asked.
"About eleven. She wasn't coming home until after dinner."'
"How far was she going?"
"A long way, she said. She went that direction," Carol pointed out tothe right.
"Is it going to storm?" asked David, coming up.
"Yes, it is. But don't you worry, Mrs. Duke. I'll get her all right.If it turns bad, I will take her to some little village or farm-housewhere she can stay till morning. We'll be all right, and don't youworry."
There was something very assuring in the hearty voice, somethingconsoling in his clear eyes and broad shoulders. Carol followed him outto his horse.
"Prince," she said, smiling up at him, "you will get her, won't you?"
"Of course I will. You aren't worrying, are you?"
"Not since you got home," said Carol. "I know you will get her. I likeyou, Prince."
"Do you?" He was boyishly pleased. "Does--does David?"
Carol laughed. "Yes, and so does Julia," she teased.
Prince laughed, too, shamefacedly, but he dared not ask, "Does Connie?"
He turned his horse quickly and paused to say, "You'd better get yourhusband inside. He will chill in spite of the rugs. It is winter,to-night. Good-by."
"He will get her," said Carol confidently, when she returned to David."He is nice, don't you think so? Maybe he would be perfectly allright--in the city. Connie could straighten him out."
"Yes, brush off the dust, and give him an opera hat and a dinner coat andhe would not be half bad."
"He is not half bad now, only--not exactly our kind."
"Women are funny," said David slowly. "I believe Connie likes his kind,just as he is, and would not have him changed for anything."
At first, Prince had no difficulty in following the wide roll of Connie'swheels, for no other cars had gone that way. But once or twice he had todrop from the saddle and examine the tracks closely to make sure of her.Then came the snow, and the tracks were blurred out. Prince was indespair.
"Three roads here," he thought rapidly. "If she took that one she willcome to Marker's ranch, and be all right. If she took the middle roadshe will make Benton. But this one, it winds and twists, and never getsany place."
So on the road to the left, that led to no place at all, Prince carefullyguided his weary horse, already beginning to stumble. He sympathizedwith every aching step, yet he urged her gently to her best speed. Thenshe slipped, struggled to regain her footing, struck a treacherous bit ofice, and fell, Prince swinging nimbly from the saddle. Plainly she wasunable to carry him farther, so he helped her to her feet and turned herloose, pushing on as fast as he could on foot.
Anxiously he peered into the gathering darkness, longing for the longflash of yellow light which meant Connie and the matchless Harmer.
Suddenly he stopped. From away over the hills to his right, minglingwith the call of the coyotes, came the unmistakable honk of a siren. Heheld his breath to listen. It came again, a long continued wail, inperfect tune with the whining of the coyotes. He turned to the right andstarted over the hills in the wake of the call.
Over a steep incline he plunged, and paused.
"Thank God," he cried aloud, for there he saw a little round yellow glowin the cloudy white mist,--the Harmer Six, and Connie.
He shouted as he ran, that she might not be left in suspense a momentlonger than need be. And Connie with numbed fingers tugged the curtainsloose and leaned out in the yellow mist to watch him as he came.
We talk of the mountain peaks of life. And poets sing of the snowy crestof life crises, where we look like angels and speak like gods, where welive on the summit of ages. This moment should have been a summit, yetwhen Prince ran down the hill, breathless, exultant, and nearlyexhausted, Connie, her face showing peaked and white in the yellow glare,cried, "Hello, Prince, I knew you'd make it."
She held out a half-frozen hand and he took it in his.
"Car's busted," she said laconically. "Won't budge. I drained the waterout of the radiator."
"All right, we'll have to hoof it," he said cheerfully.
He relieved her of the heavier wraps, and they set out silently throughthe snow, Prince still holding her hand.
"I am awfully glad to see you," she said once, in a polite little voice.
He smiled down upon her. "I am kind o' glad to see you, too, Connie."
After a while she said slowly, "I need wings. My feet are numb." And amoment later, "I can not walk any farther."
"It is ten miles to a house," he told her gravely. "I couldn't carry youso far. I'll take you a mile or so, and you will get rested."
"I am not tired, I am cold. And if you carry me I will be colder. Youjust run along and tell Carol I am all right--"
"Run along! Why, you would freeze."
"Yes, that is what I mean."
"There is a railroad track half a mile over there. Can you make that?"
Connie looked at him pitifully. "I can not even lift my feet. I amutterly stuck. I kept stepping along," she mumbled indistinctly, "andsaying, one more,--just one more,--one more,--but the foot would not comeup,--and I knew I was stuck."
Her voice trailed away, and she bundled against him and closed her eyes.
Prince gritted his teeth and took her in his arms. Connie was five feetseven, and very solid. And Prince himself was nearly exhausted with theday's exertion. Sometimes he staggered and fell to his knees, sometimeshe hardly knew if he was dragging Connie or pushing her, or if they wereboth blown along by the wind. Always there was the choke in his throat,the blur in his eyes, and that almost unbearable drag in every muscle. Afreight train passed--only a few rods away. He thought he could neverclimb that bank. "One more--one--more--one more,"
mumbled Connie in hisear.
He shook himself angrily. Of course he could make that bank,--if hecould only rest a minute,--he was not cold,--just a minute's rest to gethis breath again--a moment would be enough. God, what was he thinkingof? It was not weariness, it was the chill of the night that demanded amoment's rest. He strained Connie closer in his arms and struggled upthe bank.
At the top, he dropped her beside the track, and fell with her. For amoment the fatal languor possessed him.
A freight train rounded the curve and came puffing toward them. Prince,roused by springing hope, clambered to his feet, pulling the littlepocket flash from his pocket. He waved it imploringly at the train, butit thundered by them.
Resolutely bestirring himself, he carried Connie to a sheltered placewhere the wind could not strike her, and wrapped her as best he could inhis coat and sweater. Then, lowering his head against the driving wind,he plunged down the track in the face of the storm.