by Max Brand
CHAPTER XXIX
JACK
For many a minute she waited by that camp-fire, but there was never asign of the builder of it, though she centered all her will in makingher eyes and ears sharper to pierce through the darkness and to gatherfrom the thousand obscure whispers of the forest any sounds of humanorigin. So she grew bold at length to take off the pack and thesaddles; the camp was hers, built for her coming by the invisible powerwhich surrounded her, which read her mind, it seemed, and chosebeforehand the certain route which she must follow.
She resigned herself to that force without question, and the worry ofher search disappeared. It seemed certain that this omnipotence,whatever it might be, was reading her wishes and acting with all itspower to fulfill them, so that in the end it was merely a question oftime before she should accomplish her mission--before she should meetPierre le Rouge face to face.
That night her sleep was deep, indeed, and she only wakened when theslant light of the sun struck across her eyes. It was a bright day,crisp and chill, and through the clear air the mountains seemed leaningdirectly above her, and chief of all two peaks, almost exactly similar,black monsters which ruled the range. Toward the gorge between themthe valley of the Old Crow aimed its course, and straight up thatdiminishing canon she rode all day.
The broad, sandy bottom changed and contracted until the channel wasscarcely wide enough for the meager stream of water, and beside it shepicked her way along a narrow bridle-path with banks on either side,which became with every mile more like cliffs, walling her in anddooming her to a single destination.
It was evening before she came to the headwaters of the Old Crow, androde out into the gorge between the two mountains. The trail failedher here. There was no semblance of a ravine to follow, except themighty gorge between the two peaks, and into the dark throat of thispass she ventured, like some maiden of medieval romance riding througha solemn gate with the guarding towers tall and black on either side.
The moment she was well started in it and the steep shadow of theevening fell across her almost like night from the west, her heart grewcold as the air of that lofty region. A sense of coming danger filledher, like a little child when it passes from a lighted room into onedark and still. Yet she kept on, holding a tight rein, throwing many afearful glance at the vast rocks which might have concealed an entirearmy in every mile of their extent.
When she found the cabin she mistook it at first for merely anotherrock of singular shape. It was at this shape that she stared, andchecked her horse, and not till then did she note the faint flicker ofa light no brighter or more distinct than the phosphorescent glow ofthe eyes of a hunted beast.
All her impulse was to drive her spurs home and pass that place at aracing gallop, but she checked the impulse sharply and began to reason.In the first place, it was doubtless only the cabin of some prospector,such as she had often heard of. In the second place, night was almostupon her, and she saw no desirable camping-place, or at least any withthe necessary water at hand.
What harm could come to her? Among Western men, she well knew a womanis safer than all the law and the police of the settled East can makeher, so she nerved her courage and advanced toward the faint, changinglight.
The cabin was hidden very cunningly. Crouched among the mightyboulders which earthquakes and storms of some wilder, earlier epoch hadtorn away from the side of the crags above, the house was like anotherstone, leaning its back to the mountain for support.
When she drew very close she knew that the light which glimmered at thewindow must come from an open fire, and the thought of a fire warmedher very heart. She hallooed, and receiving no answer, fastened thehorses and entered the house. The door swung to behind her, as if ofits own volition it wished to make her close prisoner.
The place consisted of one room, and not a spacious one at that, butarranged as a shelter, not a home. The cooking, apparently, was doneover the open hearth, for there was no sign of any stove, and,moreover, on the wall near the fireplace hung several soot-blackenedpans and the inevitable coffee-pot.
There were two bunks built on opposite sides of the room, and in themiddle a table was made of a long section split from the heart of a logby wedges, apparently, and still rude and undressed, except for thepreliminary smoothing off which had been done with a broad-ax.
The great plank was supported at either end by a roughly constructedsaw-buck. It was very low, and for this reason two fairly squareboulders of comfortable proportions were sufficiently high to serve aschairs.
For the rest, the furniture was almost too meager to suggest humanhabitation, but from nails on the wall there depended a few shirts anda pair of chaps, as well as a much-battered quirt. But a bucket ofwater in a corner suggested cleanliness, and a small, round, highlypolished steel plate, hanging on the wall in lieu of a mirror, furtherfortified her decision that the owner of this place must be a mansomewhat particular as to his appearance.
Here she interrupted her observations to build up the fire, which wasflickering down and apparently on the verge of going out. She workedbusily for a few minutes, and a roaring blaze rewarded her; she tookoff her slicker to enjoy the warmth, and in doing so, turned, and sawthe owner of the place standing with folded arms just inside the door.
"Making yourself to home?" asked the host, in a low, strangely pleasantvoice.
"Do you mind?" asked Mary Brown. "I couldn't find a place that woulddo for camping."
And she summoned her most winning smile. It was wasted, she knew atonce, for the stranger hardened perceptibly, and his lip curledslightly in scorn or anger. In all her life Mary had never met a manso obdurate, and, moreover, she felt that he could not be wooed into agood humor.
"If you'd gone farther up the gorge," said the other, "you'd of foundthe best sort of a campin' place--water and everything."
"Then I'll go," said Mary, shrinking at the thought of the strange,cold outdoors compared with this cheery fire. But she put on theslicker and started for the door.
At the last moment the host was touched with compunction. He called:"Wait a minute. There ain't no call to hurry. If you can get alonghere just stick around."
For a moment Mary hesitated, knowing that only the unwritten law ofWestern hospitality compelled that speech; it was the crackle and flareof the bright fire which overcame her pride.
She laid off the slicker again, saying, with another smile: "For just afew minutes, if you don't mind."
"Sure," said the other gracelessly, and tossed his own slicker onto abunk.
Covertly, but very earnestly, Mary was studying him. He was hardlymore than a boy--handsome, slender.
Now that handsome face was under a cloud of gloom, a frown on theforehead and a sneer on the lips, but it was something more than theexpression which repelled Mary. For she felt that no matter how shewooed him, she could never win the sympathy of this darkly handsome,cruel youth; he was aloof from her, and the distance between them couldnever be crossed. She knew at once that the mysterious bridges whichlink men with women broke down in this case, and she was stronglytempted to leave the cabin to the sole possession of her surly host.
It was the warmth of the fire which once more decided against herreason, so she laid hands on one of the blocks of stone to roll itnearer to the hearth. She could not budge it. Then she caught thesneering laughter of the man, and strove again in a fury. It was nouse; for the stone merely rocked a little and settled back in its placewith a bump.
"Here," said the boy, "I'll move it for you."
It was a hard lift for him, but he set his teeth, raised the stone inhis slender hands, and set it down again at a comfortable distance fromthe fire.
"Thank you," smiled Mary, but the boy stood panting against the wall,and for answer merely bestowed on her a rather malicious glance oftriumph, as though he gloried in his superior strength and despised herweakness.
Some conversation was absolutely necessary, for the silence began toweigh on her. She said: "
My name is Mary Brown."
"Is it?" said the boy, quite without interest. "You can call me Jack."
He sat down on the other stone, his dark face swept by the shadows ofthe flames, and rolled a cigarette, not deftly, but like one who islearning the mastery of the art. It surprised Mary, watching hisfumbling fingers. She decided that Jack must be even younger than helooked.
She noticed also that the boy cast, from time to time, a sharp, ratherworried glance of expectation toward the door, as if he feared it wouldopen and disclose some important arrival. Furthermore, those old wornshirts hanging on the wall were much too large for the throat andshoulders of Jack.
Apparently, he lived there with some companion, and a companion of sucha nature that he did not wish him to be seen by visitors. Thisexplained the lad's coldness in receiving a guest; it also stimulatedMary to linger about a few more minutes.
