IX
"This is all on my ranch," said Isabel; "so there is no danger of beingpeppered. The rest of the marsh is owned by clubs, and as there was noshooting here last year the ducks should be thicker than anywhere else.We should get our fifty apiece in no time."
They were entering a narrow slough, hardly wider than the boat. It cutits zigzag way through the marsh for many miles, and they could followits course with the eye but a few feet at a time. Gwynne shipped theoars and began to scull, his gun across his knee. Isabel, in front andwith her back to him, sat with her own gun ready for a shot. On one sideof them was a large piece of marsh-land, on the left, smaller patches,and little islands caught in the long grasping fingers of the tide.Gwynne had attired himself with an ill grace in a pair of his cousinHiram's rubber boots that completely covered his body below the waist,and an old shooting-coat with capacious pockets. Isabel wore a similarcostume, and but for her hair might have been mistaken for a lad. Shepossessed no interest for Gwynne whatever at the moment. Nor didanything else but the prospect of a new and exciting sport. The Octoberevening was mellow and full of color, the entire reach of the marshsteeped in a golden haze shed from the glory in the west. Even theforests and the lower ridges rising to Tamalpais had something aqueousin their vague outlines, swayed gently in the golden tide. Only the tidelands were green; the very water was yellow. Here and there, but faraway, a mast or sail rose above the level surface of the marsh. From thedistance came the sound of constant shooting.
Gwynne sculled silently, but with some impatience. They had left theopen creek far behind and had not seen a duck. Suddenly Isabel's gunleaped to her shoulder. They rounded a sharp point and the whole surfaceof the narrow slough between them and the next bend was black withsleeping ducks. Gwynne's knee moved automatically to the seat in frontof him, and as the startled birds rose he and Isabel fired to right andleft. The scattering shot played havoc, and the second charge broughtdown at least half as many on the higher wing. Isabel reloaded the gunswhile Gwynne went for the ducks that had fallen on the land. He fellinto several holes himself, and returned covered with mud, but wavinghis birds in triumph; and once more they stole softly along theirwinding way. The shot had roused neighboring flocks; several dark cloudshad risen simultaneously, but in a few moments they settled again.
"You had better use both guns," whispered Isabel, "and I will do thereloading. We can't do much with these old-fashioned things at best."
Gwynne accepted this act of sacrifice with a matter-of-fact nod, and itwas but a moment later that they came upon another flock. He fired withan accuracy of aim that won him an admiring mutter, although to misswould have been almost as noteworthy. But after repeating thisexperience several times, he shrugged his shoulders and announcedhimself blase.
"I'd like something a little more difficult," he said. "Ten minutes ofthis and we can glut the market."
"All men are children," said Isabel, indulgently. "Tie up the boat andwe'll go after widgeon."
They landed and stole softly over the larger reach of marsh-land, Isabelin the lead as she knew every hole. It was ten minutes before she raisedher hand and pointed to a wilted but still effective screen. Under coverof this they crawled towards a large pond on which ducks were restingbut by no means asleep. Before the guns were shouldered they had takenflight; so few were brought down on the wing that Gwynne's interestrevived, and he followed Isabel eagerly towards another pond with abetter blind. Here they were more wary and more fortunate, and Isabeltook a curious pleasure in watching the manifest bliss of her companion.She had never seen him look really happy before. Upon his return toCapheaton from his triumphant battle on the hustings he had been asimpassive as his traditions demanded. On the morning of his engagementhe had looked rather silly to her detached eye; and immediately after,tragedy and trouble and infinite vexation had claimed him. But thisevening, with his cap pushed back, his nostrils distended, his eyessparkling, he looked like any other young fellow to whom the present wasall. Isabel reflected somewhat cynically that it was the opportunity tokill something that had effected this momentary reconciliation withlife. But she was too good a sportswoman not to understand his mood, andwhen he had waded into the lake and returned flushed and triumphant withhis bag, she complimented him so warmly that he laughed aloud in sheerdelight.
"We have enough for once," she began, but he would not hear of returningto the boat even for the refreshment of tea, and they went on and onuntil their feet were as weary as their shoulders under the burden thatwas Isabel's part to string while her partner enjoyed himself.
"But we must really go," she announced, finally. "We have a long stretchout in the open creek after we leave the slough, and it is not so easyto keep the channel after dark. I have lost track of things and don'tremember what time the moon rises. You can come every day if you like;and four in the morning is the best time if you are energetic enough--"
"I would get up at midnight--stay up all night. But I am quite willingto return now--and not for tea. I should like several of these ducks forsupper, if your Jap is less haughty than mine."
Their way lay through the middle of the marsh-land. It was not untilthey reached the slough that she uttered a loud sharp cry. The boat wasat least three feet below them and there was nothing at either end butmud.
Isabel stamped both feet in succession and flung her burden to theground. "Why, _why_ did I take Mac's word?" she exclaimed, furiously."He always makes mistakes about the tide--he hasn't an inch of memoryleft. Why didn't I look at the calendar? Or think? This comes of goingoff for three weeks instead of staying at home and attending tobusiness. I had a confused idea that this was the 'good week.' Greatheavens!"
Gwynne had watched her with considerable interest and curiosity. But heanswered, soothingly: "Well, what of it? The tide turns, doesn't it." Ithappened that he had had no experience of marsh-lands.
"Yes--in six hours."
"Six hours! Well, what of it? It is all in the day's work. Look at it asa jolly adventure." It was his first opportunity to console and hehastened to take advantage of it. "We have tea and sandwiches, warmenough clothing, and the weather is perfection. If we get stiff andchilly we can walk--"
"Walk? In these rubber boots? I am nearly dead already." She had a wildimpulse to drop her head on his shoulder and weep; but her pride flew tothe front and she shrugged her shoulders and remarked, airily: "I don'treally mind anything much except being an idiot. However, I'll make itup to you. I can cook ducks better than Chuma. You make the tea."
Gwynne made a fire out of decayed tule weed and driftwood, then climbeddown into the boat and brought up the provisions and utensils intendedfor an earlier interlude. The tea warmed and stimulated both, and theyknelt by the fire and toasted the ducks at the end of the boat-hook,scowling with a preternatural earnestness both were too hungry toobserve. Then they fell to, and it is doubtful if either had ever eatenwith a keener relish. They were obliged to use their fingers, and, asthey had no salt, to shred the ham and wrap it about the morsels ofduck, but to such minor matters they gave not a thought, and consumedfour teals and every scrap they had brought from home, as well asanother pot of tea. Isabel, recalling the injured air of her father,uncle, and brother-in-law when their comfort was rudely disturbed,warmed to Gwynne, who was good-humored and amused. Even the reflectionthat he had roughed it in far worse straits than this, or that had hethe legal right to grumble he might possibly use it, did not alter thepleasant impression he made as he tramped out the fire, washed his handsin the marsh grass, and then stretched himself full length with hispipe. She lit a cigarette, but had not smoked half its length when shesprang to her feet.
"Look!" she said. "We must get into the boat. It is getting damper everymoment, and the fog will make us feel as if we were in our graves if wedon't sit on something dry."
She had pointed northward, and Gwynne saw a phantom mountain movingalong the level surface of the marsh with the quiet plodding motion of aship under full sail in a light breeze. The curi
ous combination ofimages fascinated him, and he watched the stealthy silent progress ofthis night visitor from the tule lands of the north, that looked as ifit might have obliterated the world. As he jumped down into the boat hesaw before him, on three sides of him, the sparkling night. Then asIsabel laid her hands on his shoulders and he lifted her down, the fogswept over them, and there was nothing to do but sit and watch the glowof pipe and cigarette; even their own outlines were barely visible.
"I fancy it will go home when the moon rises," said Isabel, with alittle shiver. "Are you cold?" she asked, solicitously.
"No," replied a tart voice. "Why didn't you let me ask that? You are notmy mother. We can make tea at intervals. How long do you suppose thetide has been out?"
"About two hours."
"I am quite comfortable and have never resented any adventure. And thisis the appropriate time and place for a certain story. As I remarkedbefore I shall not know you until I have heard it. Pasts are deadwalls."
"It is not necessary that you should know me."
"I think otherwise. You are my one friend among eighty millions ofaliens, or ought to be. I shall continue to feel a superior sort ofacquaintance until you have taken me into your confidence."
There was a movement of the fog that he inferred was a shrug. "Verywell," she replied, without a break in her cool even voice. "I suppose Ishall enjoy talking about myself. It is not often I have had theopportunity to indulge in a monologue in my family, and you certainlyare at my mercy. If you attempt to flee you will be mired like the boat,and I could not pull you out."
He had never felt the least curiosity about the past history or theinner life of a mortal before, and in normal circumstances Isabel'swould not have appealed to him. But her instrumentality in changing thewhole current of his life had alarmed his masculinity into a resolve todemonstrate his superiority if it came to a contest of wills; givenbirth to a subtle assumption of proprietorship, indifferent in materialthings, but pressing towards the guarded chambers of the spirit. Isabel,vaguely uneasy earlier in the day, began to appreciate the advance of anouter and powerful force upon her precious freedom, and resented it. Andwhile she made up her mind that if it came to a silent contest of wills,hers at least should not be conquered, she reflected that the deeperintimacy, certain to ensue if she gave him her confidence, would insureher a firmer and subtler hold upon his destinies.
Ancestors: A Novel Page 28
