CHAPTER XX
A SHOT FROM THE GOLDEN CREST
Glen was greatly agitated when her father summoned Reynolds into hispresence. She felt that the critical moment had arrived, and shedreaded what might follow. Although she loved her father, yet at timesshe feared him. Suppose he should send Reynolds away at once, andforbid his return to Glen West? He had treated others in a harshmanner, and why should he act differently now? Her only ray of hopelay in the thought that he had allowed the young man to stay at thehouse over night, and had permitted him to sleep in the room which hadnever before been occupied.
She sat for some time after Reynolds had left, with her elbows upon thetable, and her hands propping her chin. Her appetite had suddenly lefther, and her coffee remained untasted. The morning sun flooding theroom, fell upon her hair and face, and had her lover seen her then, hewould have admired her more than ever. She was in a most thoughtfulmood, and at the same time she listened intently for any sound ofstrife that might come from her father's study.
At length she arose, picked up her broad-rimmed straw-hat, and went outof doors. It was a hot morning with not a breath of wind astir. Thewater was like a mirror, and the high hills were reflected in its cleardepths. It called to her now, and appealed to her as of yore, andurged her to seek comfort upon its placid bosom.
Walking swiftly down to the wharf, she launched her light canoe, onewhich had been brought in from the outside for her own special use.Sconda was standing near _The Frontiersman_, and he offered toaccompany her. But Glen smilingly told him that she wished to be alonethis morning, and that perhaps Klota needed him more than she did. TheIndian was quite surprised at her refusal, and somewhat piqued as well.It was the first time she had ever spoken to him in such a manner, andhe stood silently watching the girl as she settled herself in thecanoe, and dipped her paddle into the water. Then he wended his wayslowly homeward, wondering what had come over his young imperiousmistress.
But Glen was not thinking about Sconda, and she had no idea that shehad in any way annoyed the faithful native. She paddled straightacross the creek until she reached the opposite side. Here she ran thecanoe ashore, and watched most intently the big house in the distance.
She remained here for some time anxiously observing all that was takingplace around the house, expecting at any moment to see Reynolds comeforth. And when he did come, would he at once go down to the village,to be conducted beyond the pass? Perhaps her father might send for theguard, who would lead him forth as a prisoner. At this thought atremor shook her body, and she nervously drove the paddle into thewater, and sent the canoe reeling from the shore. Only in action nowcould she endure the strain of waiting.
She had just reached the middle of the creek, when, glancing toward thehouse, her heart gave a great leap, for there coming down to the wharfwas the very one of whom she was thinking. He was walking rapidly andat the same time waving his hand to her. Instantly she headed thecanoe for the shore, and when its graceful bow touched lightly againstthe wharf, he was standing there waiting to receive her. The smileupon his face and light of joy in his eyes told her that all was well,and so great was her happiness that for a moment she had no word tosay. Her cheeks were flushed with the invigorating exercise, and theeyes which were turned to her lover's were moist with tears, andgleamed like sparkling diamonds. Reynolds, too, was speechless for afew seconds. A feeling of almost sacred awe swept upon him as helooked upon that fair pure face. Although his life was clean and abovereproach, yet he felt most unworthy when in the presence of such abeautiful, unsullied being. It never had affected him so intensely ason this bright morning on the shore of that inland water. What righthad he to presume to love such a girl? he asked himself.
For several seconds neither spoke. It was that mysterious silencewhich sometimes comes when heart responds to heart, and where love istrue and deep. Then they both laughed and the spell was broken. Justwhy they laughed they could not tell, although they felt very happy.
"Come for a spin," Glen suggested. "I want to hear all. You paddle,"she ordered, as she turned herself about in the canoe. "I have alreadyhad my morning's exercise."
"And so have I," Reynolds laughingly replied, as he seated himselfastern and sent the canoe from the wharf.
"But of a different nature, though?" and Glen looked quizzically intohis face.
"Quite different. I exercised my lungs, and your father did the same."
"Not in anger, I hope."
"Oh, no. We had a great heart to heart talk, and got on splendidly.We parted like two lambs, and are the best of friends."
"You are!" The girl's lips merely breathed the words, but they told ofher great relief.
"Yes, it is true. And more than that, we have already planned for atrip together in the hills, and you are to go with us, that is, if youwish to go."
At these words, Glen's face underwent a marvellous change.
"Don't go," she pleaded. "Stay where you are."
"Why, what is the matter?" and Reynolds looked his surprise as hepaused in a stroke.
"Have you forgotten your dream last night? It was bad, and firstdreams in a new place are sure to come true."
Reynolds laughed, as he again dipped the paddle into the water.
"Surely you are not superstitious, Miss Weston. Why should one bealarmed at dreams? They are nothing."
"That may be true," and Glen trailed her hand in the water. "But anuneasy feeling has taken possession of me which I cannot banish. I wasbrought up among Indians, you know, and they are naturallysuperstitious."
"And they have filled your mind with nonsense, I suppose."
"I am afraid so," and the girl gave a deep sigh.
They were some distance up the creek now, and the canoe was glidingalmost noiselessly through the water. Glen asked Reynolds about hisconversation with her father, and he told her all that had taken place.She listened with the keenest interest. Her face was aglow withanimation, and her eyes shone with the light of astonishment.
"I can hardly believe it," she exclaimed when Reynolds had finished."Anyway, I am so thankful that daddy did not get angry, I hope he willnot change his mind. He is so gentle and good at times, and again heis so stern and harsh. Oh! what is that?" she cried, as somethingstruck the water with a zip near the canoe.
Reynolds had ceased paddling, and was staring back at a spot where thewater had been ruffled, but not by the motion of the canoe. Then heglanced shoreward, and his eyes keenly searched the high ridge of theGolden Crest.
"It must have been a fish leaping for a fly," he somewhat absentlysuggested.
"But I heard the report of a rifle," Glen declared. "It came from upthere," and she motioned to the right.
"Perhaps someone is hunting, and a stray bullet may have come this way."
"It may be so, but let us go home." Glen's face was pale, and her eyesbore an anxious expression.
Reynolds at once swung the canoe around, and paddled with long steadystrokes toward the village. He knew that Glen was somewhat unnerved,and he upbraided himself for telling her about his dream. Why are somepeople so foolish as to believe in such things? he asked himself.
"Suppose we go over to Sconda's," Glen suggested. "I want to seeKlota. She is doing some work for me."
"I understand," Reynolds replied. "You wish to find out how thatbearskin is getting along."
Glen glanced quickly at him, smiled, and slightly blushed.
"You saw it, then? You recognized it?"
"Sconda showed it to me. It is a beauty."
"Do you want it?"
"Oh, no. I have no place to keep such a thing. It pleases me to knowthat you are anxious to have it as a----"
"As a souvenir of my deliverance," the girl assisted, as Reynoldshesitated.
"And of our first meeting," he added.
Glen did not reply, but looked thoughtfully out over the water towardthe shore. She was glad that Reynolds believed she wished to go toSconda's
merely to see about the skin. But in truth, there wassomething far more important, and it was this which now disturbed hermind. She did not wish to exhibit her anxiety, so the idea of viewingthe bearskin was as good a pretext as any other.
They found Klota at the back of the house busily engaged upon the skin,which was stretched over a log. She paused in her work and smiled asthe two approached. Glen spoke to her in Indian, and asked her how shewas getting along. Seeing Sconda across the street talking with anIndian, Reynolds went at once to him to discuss the proposed trip intothe hills. This suited Glen, as she wanted to be alone for a time withKlota.
"Is Sconda going with us on our trip?" she asked.
"Ah, ah. Sconda is going," was the reply. Then an anxious expressionappeared in the old woman's eyes as she turned them upon her fairvisitor. "Don't you go," she warned. "Stay home."
"Why, Klota?" Glen asked as calmly as possible, although herfast-beating heart told of her agitation.
"Something might happen out there," and the Indian woman motioned toher left.
"What has Klota seen? Has she heard anything?"
"Klota has seen and heard. Don't go."
"What have you seen and heard?" Glen urged.
"Bad, ugh! Bad dream. Bad white man."
"Curly?" Glen's face was very white.
"Ah, ah, Curly. Bad, all same black bear. Don't go."
Klota resumed her work upon the skin, and although Glen questioned herfurther, she only shook her head, and refused to talk. What had thiswoman heard? Glen asked herself, or was it only a dream? She knew howmuch stress the Indians laid upon dreams, and how she herself had beenso strongly influenced since childhood by weird stories she had heardfrom the natives.
She was unusually silent and thoughtful as she and Reynolds walkedslowly up the street toward the big house. She longed to tell hercompanion what Klota had said, but she hesitated about doing so. Wouldhe not consider her weak and foolish? She knew that her father wouldonly laugh at her if she told him. She did not wish to make herselfridiculous in their eyes, and yet she could not get her lover's dreamnor Klota's warning out of her mind. She thought of them thatafternoon as she made preparations for the journey. Her father hadtold her that they were to start early the next morning, and if shewished to go she must be ready. She did want to go, for she enjoyedthe life in the hills. Nevertheless, she often found herself standingat the window looking out over the lake. Why should she go if therewas any risk? she asked herself. She knew that Curly was capable ofalmost any degree of villainy, but was he not far away at Big Draw? Itwas hardly likely that he would again venture near the Golden Crest.But if he did, would she not have her father and Reynolds to protecther?
Hitherto she had only thought of harm to herself. But there suddenlycame into her mind the fear that something might happen to another, andshe flushed as she thought who that other would be. Had she not seenCurly's face, and heard some of his terrible words the day of hisarrest as he was being taken up the street? It would, therefore, beupon Reynolds that he would endeavor to give vent to his rage. Justhow he would do this, she could not tell, but it would be necessary forher to be ever on guard.
A feeling of responsibility now took possession of her such as she hadnever known before. She felt that the life of her lover was in herkeeping, and perhaps her father's as well. She knew that they wouldnot listen to any warning from her, and so she might as well keepsilent. The dream and Klota's words might amount to nothing, yet itwas well to be ready for any emergency.
Opening a drawer in her dresser, she brought forth a revolver, and heldit thoughtfully in her hand for a few minutes. As a rule she carriedit with her on all her trips beyond the Golden Crest, and she had beenwell trained in the use of the weapon since she was a mere girl. Shewas a good shot, and was very proud of her accomplishment.
"A girl should always be able to take care of herself," her father hadtold her over and over again.
"In a country such as this one never knows what might happen, and it iswell to be prepared."
That evening as she sat at the piano and played while Reynolds sang,she forgot for a time her anxiety. His presence dispelled all gloomyfears, and the sound of his voice thrilled her very being. They wereboth happy, and all-sufficient to each other.
Across the hall in his own room, Jim Weston sat alone, ensconced in abig comfortable chair. He was re-reading one of his favorite books,"Essays of Nature and Culture." He was engrossed in the chapter, "TheGreat Revelation," and as he read, the music across the way beat uponhis brain, and entered into his soul. "Every bit of life is a bit ofrevelation; it brings us face to face with the great mystery and thegreat secret." . . . He paused, and listened absently to the music."All revelation of life has the spell, therefore, of discovery." . . .The words of the song the young people were now singing again arrestedhis attention. He liked "Thora"; it was a song of the north, and Glenhad often sung it to him. "There is the thrill, the wonder, the joy ofseeing another link in the invisible chain which binds us to the pastand unites us to the future." The words of the essay startled him. Helaid aside the book, and rested his head upon his hand. "Another linkin the invisible chain which binds us to the past." He thought of herwho had made his life so pleasant. He glanced above his desk, and amistiness came into his eyes. Memory now was the only link which boundhim to the past, to those sweet days of long ago.
And as he sat there, the singing still continued. He only halfcomprehended the meaning of the words, for he was living in anotherworld. But presently he started, clutched the arms of his chair, andbent intently forward.
"'Tis a tale that is truer and older Than any the sagas tell; I loved you in life too little, I love you in death too well!"
In the adjoining room the happy young couple went on with theirsinging, and when the song was finished, they stopped, said somethingin a low voice, and then laughed joyously. But the ruler of Glen Westpaced restlessly up and down his study. He heard no more singing thatnight, for he had softly closed the door. Long after the rest hadretired, and the house was wrapped in silence, he continued his pacing,only stopping now and then to gaze longingly at the picture above hisdesk. Since his return from the hills Jim Weston had learned a newlesson, but before it could be applied, it was necessary for him toundergo the severest mental and spiritual struggle he had ever known.