The Way of a Man

by Emerson Hough

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  THE FLAMING SWORD

  The question of food ever arose for settlement, and early the nextmorning I set out upon a short exploring expedition through our newcountry, to learn what I might of its resources. There were trout in ourlittle mountain stream, and although we had no hooks or lines I managedto take a few of these in my hands, chasing them under the stones. AlsoI found many berries now beginning to ripen, and as the forest growthoffered us new supplies, I gathered certain barks, thinking that wemight make some sort of drink, medicinal if not pleasant. Tracks of deerwere abundant; I saw a few antelope, and supposed that possibly thesebolder slopes might hold mountain sheep. None of these smaller animalswas so useful to us as the buffalo, for each would cost as muchexpenditure of precious ammunition, and yield less return in bulk. Ishook the bullet pouch at my belt, and found it light. We had barely twodozen bullets left; and few hunters would promise themselves over adozen head of big game for twice as many shots.

  I cast about me in search of red cedar that I might make a bow. Isearched the willow thicket for arrow shafts, and prowled among littleflints and pointed stones on the shores of our stream, seeking arrowpoints. It finally appeared to me that we might rest here for a time andbe fairly safe to make a living in some way. Then, as I was obliged toadmit, we would need to hurry on to the southward.

  But again fate had its way with us, setting aside all plans. When Ireturned to our encampment, instead of seeing Ellen come out to meet meas I expected, I found her lying in the shade of the little tepee.

  "You are hurt!" I cried. "What has happened?"

  "My foot," said she, "I think it is broken!" She was unable to stand.

  As she could, catching her breath, she told me how this accident hadhappened. Walking along the stony creek bank, she had slipped, and hermoccasined foot, caught in the narrow crack between two rocks, had beenheld fast as she fell forward. It pained her now almost unbearably.Tears stood in her eyes.

  So now it was my term to be surgeon. Tenderly as I might, I examined thefoot, now badly swollen and rapidly becoming discolored. In spite of herprotest--although I know it hurt me more than herself--I flexed thejoints and found the ankle at least safe. Alas! a little grating in thesmaller bones, just below the instep, told me of a fracture.

  "Ellen," said I to her, "the foot is broken here--two bones, I think,are gone."

  She sank back upon her robe with an exclamation as much of horror aspain.

  "What shall we do!" she murmured. "I shall be crippled! I cannotwalk--we shall perish!"

  "No," I said to her, "we shall mend it. In time you will not know it hashappened." Thus we gave courage to each other.

  All that morning I poured water from a little height upon the baredfoot, so that presently the inflammation and the pain lessened. Then Iset out to secure flat splints and some soft bark, and so presentlysplintered and bound the foot, skillfully as I knew how; and this musthave brought the broken bones in good juxtaposition, for at least I knowthat eventually nature was kind enough to heal this hurt and leave notrace of it.

  Now, when she was thus helpless and suffering, needing all her strength,how could I find it in my heart to tell her that secret which it was myduty to tell? How could I inflict upon her a still more poignantsuffering than this physical one? Each morning I said to myself,"To-day, if she is better, I will tell her of Grace Sheraton; she mustknow." But each time I saw her face I could not tell her.

  Each day she placed a clean white pebble in a little pile at her side.Presently there were seven.

  "John Cowles," she said to me that morning, "bring me our writing, andbring me my pen. To-day I must sign another letter." And, smiling, shedid so, looking up into my face with love showing on her own. Had thecharcoal been living flame, and had she written on my bare heart, shecould not have hurt me more.

  Of course, all the simple duties of our life now devolved upon myself. Imust hunt, and keep the camp, and cook, and bring the fuel; so that muchof the time I was by necessity away from her. Feverishly I explored allour little valley and exulted that here nature was so kind to us. Itrapped hares in little runways. I made me a bow and some arrows, andvery often I killed stupid grouse with these or even with stones orsticks, as they sat in the trees; and in bark baskets that I made Ibrought home many berries, now beginning to ripen fully. Roots andbulbs as I found them I experimented with, though not with much success.Occasionally I found fungi which made food. Flowers also I brought toher, flowers of the early autumn, because now the snows were beginningto come down lower on the mountains. In two months winter would be uponus. In one month we would have snow in the valley.

  The little pile of white stones at her side again grew, slowly, slowly.Letter by letter her name grew invisible form on the scroll of ourcovenant--her name, already written, and more deeply, on my heart. Onthe fifth week she called once more for her charcoal pen, and signed thelast letter of her Christian name!

  "See, there," she said, "it is all my girl name, E-l-l-e-n." I looked atit, her hand in mine.

  "'Ellen!'" I murmured. "It is signature enough, because you are the onlyEllen in the world." But she put away my hand gently and said, "Wait."

  She asked me now to get her some sort of cut branch for a crutch, sayingshe was going to walk. And walk she did, though resting her foot verylittle on the ground. After that, daily she went farther and farther,watched me as I guddled for trout in the stream, aided me as I pickedberries in the thickets, helped me with the deer I brought into camp.

  "You are very good to me," she said, "and you hunt well. You work. Youare a man, John Cowles. I love you."

  'OUT THAR IN CALIFORNY THE HILLS ARE FULL OF GOLD']

  But hearing words so sweet as these to me, still I did not tell her whatsecret was in my soul. Each day I said to myself that presently shewould be strong enough to bear it, and that then I would tell her. Eachday that other world seemed vaguer and farther away. But each day passedand I could not speak. Each day it seemed less worth while to speak. NowI could not endure the thought of losing her. I say that I could not.Let none judge me too harshly who have not known the full measure ofthis world and that.

  There was much sign of bears in our thickets, and I warned her not to goout alone after berries where these long-footed beasts now fedregularly. Sometimes we went there together, with our vessels of bark,and filled them slowly, as she hobbled along. Our little dog was nowalways with us, having become far more tamed and docile with us than isever the case of an Indian dog in savagery. One day we wandered in adense berry thicket, out of which rose here and there chokecherry trees,and we began to gather some of these sour fruits for use in the pemmicanwhich we planned to manufacture. All at once we came to a spot where thecherry trees were torn down, pulled over, ripped up by the roots. Thetorn earth was very fresh, and I knew that the bear that had done thework could not be far away.

  All at once our dog began to growl and erect his hair, sniffing not atthe foot scent, but looking directly into the thicket just ahead. Hebegan then to bark, and as he did so there rose, with a sullen sort ofgrunt and a champing of jaws like a great hog, a vast yellow-grayobject, whose head topped the bushes that grew densely all about. Thegirl at my side uttered a cry of terror and turned to run as best shemight, but she fell, and lay there cowering.

  The grizzly stood looking at me vindictively with little eyes, its earsback, its jaws working, its paws swinging loosely at its side, the clawswhite at the lower end, as though newly sharpened for slaughtering. Isaw then that it was angered by the sight of the dog, and would notleave us. Each moment I expected to hear it crash through the bush inits charge. Once down in the brush, there would be small chance ofdelivering a fatal shot; whereas now, as it swung its broad headslightly to one side, the best possible opportunity for killing itpresented itself immediately. Without hesitation I swung up the heavybarrel, and drew the small silver bead directly on the base of the ear,where the side bones of a bear's head are flatter and thinner, directlyalongside
the brain. The vicious crack of the rifle sounded loud therein the thicket; but there came no answer in response to it save acrashing and slipping and a breaking down of the bushes as the vastcarcass fell at full length. The little ball had done its work and foundthe brain.

  I knew the bear was dead, but for a time did not venture closely. Ilooked about and saw the girl slowly rising on her elbow, her faceuncovered now, but white in terror. I motioned for her to lie still, andhaving reloaded, I pushed quietly through the undergrowth. I saw a vastgray, grizzled heap lying there, shapeless, motionless. Then I shoutedaloud and went back and picked her up and carried her through the brokenthicket, and placed her on the dead body of the grizzly, seating myselfat her side.

  We were two savages, successful now in the chase--successful, indeed, inwinning the capital prize of all savages; for few Indians will attackthe grizzly if it can be avoided. She laid her hand wonderingly upon thebarrel of the rifle, looking at it curiously, that it had been so deadlyas to slay a creature so vast as this. Then she leaned contentedlyagainst my side, and so we sat there for a time. "John Cowles," shesaid, "you are brave. You are very much a man. I am not afraid when youare with me." I put my arm about her. The world seemed wild and fair andsweet to me. Life, savage, stern, swept through all my veins.

  The skinning of the bear was a task of some moment, and as we did thiswe exulted that we would now have so fine a robe. The coarse meat wecould not use, but the fat I took off in flakes and strips, and hungupon the bushes around us for later carrying into camp. In this work sheassisted me, hobbling about as best she might.

  We were busy at this, both of us greasy and bloody to our elbows, whenall at once we stopped and looked at each other in silence. We had hearda sound. To me it sounded like a rifle shot. We listened. It came again,with others. There was a volley of several shots, sounds certain beyondany manner of question.

  My heart stopped. She looked at me, some strange thought written uponher face. It was not joy, nor exultation, nor relief. Her eyes werelarge and startled. There was no smile on her face. These things Inoted. I caught her bloody hand in my bloody one, and for an instant Ibelieved we both meditated flight deeper into the wilderness. Yet Ireasoned that since these shots were fired on our trail, we must be inall likelihood found in any case, even were these chance hunters cominginto our valley, and not a party searching for us.

  "It may not be any one we know," I said. "It may be Indians."

  "No," said she, "it is my father. They have found us. We must go!John"--she turned toward me and put her hands on my breast--"John!" Isaw terror, and regret, and resolve look out of her eyes, but not joyat this deliverance. No, it was not joy that shone in her eyes. None theless, the ancient yoke of society being offered, we bowed our necksagain, fools and slaves, surrendering freedom, joy, content, as thoughthat were our duty.