CHAPTER XXXVIII
--IN THE WILDERNESS
The golden sun was high in the heavens. Its splendor was pouring downupon a gently steaming earth. But all its joyous light, all itsperfect beneficence could not undo one particle of the havoc the longdark hours of night had wrought.
High up on a shattered eminence, where a sea of tumbled rock markedthe face of Devil's Hill, where the great hot lake had been heldsuspended, Joan and Buck gazed out upon the battle-ground of nature'sforces.
Presently the girl's eyes came back to the face of her lover. Shecould not long keep them from the face, which, such a few hours ago,she had believed she would never behold again in life. She felt asthough he were one returned to her from the grave, and feared lest sheshould wake to find his returning only a dream.
He was a strange figure. The tattered remains of his clothing werescarcely enough to cover his nakedness, and Joan, with loving,unskilled hands, had lavered and dressed his wounds with portions ofher own undergarments and the waters of the creek, whither, earlier,she had laboriously supported his enfeebled body. But Providence hadspared him an added mercy besides bringing him back to life. It seemeda sheer miracle that his bones had been left whole. His flesh wastorn, his whole body was terribly bruised and lacerated, but thatworst of all disasters in life had been spared him, and he was leftwith the painful use of every limb.
But the thought of this miracle left the man untouched. Only did Joanremember, and offer up her thankfulness. The man was of the wild, hewas young, life was with him, life with all its joys and sorrows, allits shadowy possibilities, so he recked nothing of what he hadescaped. That was his way.
While Joan's devoted eyes watched the steady light in his, staring outso intently at the wreck of world before him, no word passed her lips.It was as though he were the lord of their fate and she waited hiscommands.
But for long Buck had no thought for their personal concerns. Heforgot even the pains which racked his torn body, he forgot even theregrets which the destruction he now beheld had first inspired himwith. He was marveling, he was awed at the thought of those dreadelements, those titanic forces he had witnessed at play.
There lay the hideous skeleton picked bare to the bones. Everysemblance of the beauty lines, which, in the earth's maturecompletion, it had worn, had vanished, and only mouldering remainswere left. How had it happened? What terrible, or sublime purpose, hadbeen achieved during that night of terror? He could not think.
His eyes dropped to that which lay immediately before him. He wasgazing into chaotic depths of torn black rock amidst which a greatcascade of water poured out from the bowels of the earth and flowed onto join the waters of Yellow Creek. It was the site where had hung thesuspended lake. Half the great hill had been torn away by someterrible subterranean upheaval, which seemed to have solely occurredon that side where the lake had been, and where the hill hadconfronted the distant camp. Gone were the workings of the miners.Gone was that great bed of auriferous soil. And in their places lay anocean of rock, so vast, so torn, that the power which had hurled itbroadcast was inconceivable to his staggered mind.
For a while he contemplated the scene with thoughts struggling andemotions stirring. Then with a sigh he looked out beyond. The valleyof the creek, that little narrow strip of open grass-land, bordered bypine forests all its length, was gone, too. The creek was now awide-spread expanse of flowing water, which had swept from its paththe last vestige of the handiwork of those people who had lived uponthe banks of the original stream.
There was not a sign of a house or log hut to be seen anywhere. Gone,gone, swept away like the buildings of children's toy bricks.
What of those who had dwelt where the water now flowed? Had they, too,gone on the rushing tide? He wondered. Where had been their escape?Maybe they had had time. And yet, somehow it seemed doubtful. Theskeleton forests stretched out on every hand to a great distance. Theybacked where the camp had stood. They rose up beyond the northernlimits. To the west of the water it was the same. Had he not witnessedthe furnace upon that side? And here, here to the south would theyhave faced this terrible barrier belching out its torrential waters,perhaps amidst fire and smoke?
He did not know. He could not think. They were gone as everything elsethat indicated life was gone, and--they two were left alone in awilderness of stricken earth.
He sighed again as he thought of the gracious woods which the longcenturies had built up. All Nature's wonderful labors, the patientefforts of ages, wiped out in a few moments of her own freakish mood.It was heart-breaking to one who had always loved the wild hills wherethe all-powerful Dame's whimsies had so long run riot.
Then as he stared out upon the steaming horizon where hills greaterand greater rose up confronting him and narrowed the limits of hisvision, he saw where the dividing line ran. He remembered suddenlythat even in her destructions Nature had still controlled. The floodsof the heavens must have been abruptly poured out at some time duringthe night, or the fire would still be raging on, searching out freshfuel beyond those hills, traveling on on and on through the limitlessforests which lay to the north, and south, and west.
The memory gave him fresh hope. It told him that the world was stilloutside waiting to welcome them to its hostels. And so he turned atlast to the patient woman at his side.
"It seems so a'mighty queer, little Joan," he said gently. "Itseems so a'mighty queer I can't rightly get the hang of things.Yesterday--yesterday--why, yesterday all this," he waved an arm toindicate the broken world about him, "was as God made it, an' nowther's jest ruin--blank ruin that'll take all your life, and mine, an'dozens who're comin' after us to--to build up agin. Yesterday thiscamp was full of busy folk chasin' a livin' from the products Naturehad set here. Now she's wiped 'em out. Why? Yesterday a good man wasthreatened by man's law, an' it looked as if that law was to suck usall into its web an' make criminals of us. Now he's gone an' thelaw'll be chased back to hunt around for its prey in places with lessdanger to 'em. It's all queer--mighty queer. An' it's queerer still tothink of you an' me sittin' here puzzlin' out these things."
"Yes."
Joan nodded without removing her eyes from the face she loved so well.Then after a pause she went on--
"You think--he's dead?"
Buck was some time before he answered her. His grave eyes were fixedon a spot across the water, where a break in the charred remains ofthe forest revealed a sky-line of green grass.
"How else?" he said, at last. "He was behind me with your aunt. He wason the hill. You've scoured what remains of the plateau. Wal, he ain'tthere, an' he didn't come down the path wher' we come. We ain't see'em anyways. Yep," he went on, with a sigh, "guess the Padre's dead,an' one o' them rocks down ther' is markin' his grave. Seems queer. Hewent with her. She was the woman he had loved. They've gone together,even though she just--hated him. He was a good man an'--he'd got grit.He was the best man in the world an'--an' my big friend."
His voice was husky with emotion, and something like a sob came withhis last word, and Joan's eyes filled with tears of sympathy andregret.
"Tell me," he went on, after a pause. "I ain't got it right. The fallknocked you plumb out. An' then?"
His eyes were still on the distant break of the trees.
"I don't know what happened," Joan said wearily, spreading out herdrenched skirt to the now blazing sun. "I know I woke up quitesuddenly, feeling so cold that even my teeth were chattering. The rainwas falling like--like hailstones. It was dark, so dark, and I wasterribly afraid. I called to you, but got no answer, and--and Ithought I was alone. It was terrible. The thunder had ceased, and thelightning was no longer playing. There was no longer any forest fire,or--or earthquakings. All was still and black, and the rain--oh, itwas dreadful. I sat where I was, calling you at intervals. I sat on,and on, and on, till I thought the dark would never go, that day wouldnever break again, and I began to think that all the world had come toan end, and I, alone, was left. Then at last the rain stopped, and Isaw that day was
breaking. But it was not until broad daylight that Iknew where I was. And then--and then I saw you lying close at my feet.Oh, Buck, don't let me think of it any more. Don't remind me of it. Itwas awful. I believed you were dead--dead. And it seemed to me that myheart died, too. It was so dreadful that I think I--I was mad. Andthen--you saved me--again."
Buck raised a stiff arm and gently drew her toward him with awonderfully protecting movement. The girl yielded herself to him, andhe kissed her sweet upturned lips.
"No, little Joan, gal. Don't you think of it. We got other things tothink of--a whole heap."
"Yes, yes," cried the girl eagerly. "We've got life--together."
Buck nodded with a grave smile.
"An' we must sure keep it."
He released her and struggled to his feet, where he stood supportinghimself by clinging to a projection of rock.
"What do you mean, Buck? What are you going to do?" Joan demandedanxiously, springing to her feet and shaking out her drenched skirt.
"Do? Why, look yonder. Ther' across the water. Ther' wher' themburnt-up woods break. See that patch o' grass on the sky-line? Lookclose, an' you'll see two--somethings standin' right ther'. Wal, wegot to git near enough that way so Caesar can hear my whistle."
"Caesar? Is--is that Caesar? Why--how----?"
Buck nodded his head.
"Maybe I'm guessin'. I ain't sayin'. But--wal, you can't be sure thisways off. Y' see, Caesar has a heap o' sense, an' his saddle-bags areloaded down with a heap o' good food. An' you're needin' that--same asme."
The Golden Woman: A Story of the Montana Hills Page 38
