CHAPTER XIV
Now, to the man in whose nature there is a broad streak of sentimentand who looks upon his marriage as a very sacred, solemn and lastingceremony, no speech in life is so provocative of profound emotion as thebeautiful interchange of vows which links him to the woman he loves. AsBob McGraw stood there, holding Donna's soft warm hand in his, so hardand tanned, and repeated: "I, Robert, take thee, Donna, for my lawfulwife; to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse,for richer, for poorer (Here Bob's voice trembled a little. Why shouldthis question of finance arise to smite him in the midst of the marriageceremony?), in sickness; and in health, until death us do part," hisbreast swelled and a mist came into his eyes. His voice was very low andhusky as he took that sacred oath, and it seemed that he stood swayingin a great fog, while from a great distance, yet wonderfully clear andfirm and sweet, Donna's voice reached him:
"I, Donna, take thee, Robert, for my lawful husband--" and the ministerwas asking him for a ring.
For a ring!
Bob started. The perspiration stood out on his forehead!--there wasagony in his brown eyes. In the sudden reaction caused by that awfulrequest, he blurted out:
"Oh, Great Grief, Donna! I forgot all about the ring!"
"I didn't" she replied softly. From her hand-bag she produced a worn oldwedding ring (it had been her mother's) and handed it to Bob. At thishe commenced to regain his composure, and by the time he had slippedthe ring on Donna's finger and plighted his troth for aye, all of histroubles and worries vanished. The minister and his gardener shook handswith them, and the minister's wife kissed Donna and gave her a motherlyhug--primarily because she looked so sweet and again on general feminineprinciples. Bob, not desiring to appear cheap on this, the greatest dayin history, gave the minister a fee of twenty dollars, and five minuteslater found himself on the sidewalk with his wife, rejoicing in theknowledge that he had at least justified his existence and joined theranks o' canny married men--the while he strove to appear as scornful ofthe future as he had been fearful of it five minutes before. He jingledless than three dollars in small change in his vest pocket, and whilehe strove to appear jaunty, away inside of him he was a worried man. Hecould not help it.
"Mrs. McGraw" he said finally, "on the word of no less a personage thanyour husband, you're some bride."
"Mr. McGraw" she retorted, "on the word of no less a personage than yourwife, you are _some_ bridegroom. Why _did_ you forget the ring?"
Why did he forget the ring? Really, it did seem likely that he mustquarrel with his wife before they had been married ten minutes. Howstrangely obtuse she was to-day!
"Why, Donna" he protested, "how should I know? I never was marriedbefore, and besides I was thinking of something else all day." Heslapped his vest pocket and cupped a hand to an ear, in a listeningattitude.
"Did you hear a faint jingle?" he queried solemnly.
She pinched his arm, interrupting his flow of nonsense. Women who dearlylove their husbands delight in teasing them, and as Donna turned herradiant face to his Bob fancied he could detect a secret jest peepingat him from the ceiled shelter of her drowsy-lidded eyes. Yes, withouta doubt she was laughing at him--and he as poor as a church-mouse. Hefrowned.
"This is no laughing matter, Mrs. McGraw."
The roguish look deepened.
"Now, what else have I done?" he demanded.
"Nothing--yet. But you're contemplating it."
"Contemplating what?"
"Telegraphing Harley P. Hennage."
"Friend wife" said Bob McGraw, "you should hang out your shingle as aseeress. You forecast coming events so cleverly that perhaps you caninform me whether or not we are to walk back to San Pasqual, living likegypsies en route."
"Why, no, stupid. I have money enough for our honeymoon."
"Donna" he began sternly, "if I had thought--"
"You wouldn't have consented to such a hasty marriage. Of course. I knewthat--so I contrived to have my way about it. And I'm going to have myway about this honeymoon, too. Five minutes ago I couldn't have offeredyou money, but I have the right to do so now. But I would not hurt yourfeelings for the world. I'll loan you six hundred dollars on approvedsecurity."
He shook his head. "You can't mix sentiment and business, Donna, and Ihave no security. Besides, I'm not quite a cad."
"Oh, very well, dear. I know your code and I wouldn't run counter to itfor a--well for a water right in Owens Valley--notwithstanding thefact that I took you for richer or for poorer. And I did figure on ahoneymoon, Bob."
He threw up his hands in token of submission. "I'll accept" he said,although he was painfully embarrassed. She was making the happiest dayof his life a little miserable, and for the first time he experienced afleeting regret that Donna's ideals were not formed on a more masculinebasis. By the exercise of her compelling power over him she had him inher toils and he was helpless. Nothing remained for him to do savemake the best of a situation, the acceptance of which filled him withchagrin.
"Don't pull such a dolorous countenance, Bob. Why, your face is as longas Friar Tuck's. I promise I will not harass you with the taunt that youmarried me for my money. In fact, my husband, it's the other way around.I might accord you that privilege."
She drew his arm through hers. "I have a little wedding present for you,Bobby dear" she began. "I'm going to tell you a little story, andnow please don't interrupt. You know all summer you were up in themountains, and after that you were rather in jail at the Hat Ranch,where I didn't bring you any newspapers. Consequently, from being out ofthe world so long, you haven't heard the latest news about Owens Valley.I heard it before you left San Pasqual, but I wouldn't tell you. Iwanted to keep the news for a wedding present.
"For several months something very mysterious has been going on in ourpart of the world. There has been a force of surveyors and engineersin the valley searching for a permanent water supply for some greatpurpose, though nobody can guess what it is. But it's a fact that a pileof money has been spent in Long Valley, above Owens Valley, and more isto be spent if it can buy water. The chief engineer of the outfit readin the paper at Independence the account of your filing at CottonwoodLake and he has had men searching for you ever since. One of them calledto interview you at San Pasqual, for, like T. Morgan Carey, they hadtraced you that far. He came into the eating-house and asked me if Iknew anybody in town by the name of Robert McGraw. I told him I didnot--which wasn't a fib because you weren't in town at the time. Youwere in bed at the Hat Ranch. An engineer was with him and while theywere at luncheon I overheard them discussing your water-right. Theengineer declared that the known feature alone made the location worth amillion dollars. Do you like my wedding present, dear?"
He pressed her arm but did not answer. She continued.
"I talked over the matter of water and power rights with Harley P. andhe says they will pay a big price for anything like you have. I didn'ttell him you owned a power and water-right--just mentioned that I knew aman who owned one. Since then I've been reading up on the subject and Idiscovered that you have enough water to develop three times the acreageyou plan to acquire. One miner's inch to the acre will be sufficientin that country. So you see, Bob, you're a rich man. That explains whyCarey was so anxious to find you. He wanted to buy from you cheap andsell to those people dear. Why, you're the queerest kind of a rich man.Bob. You're water poor. Don't you see, now, why you can take my money?You have three times more water than you need; you can sell some ofit--"
Bob paused, facing his bride. "And you knew all this a month ago anddidn't write me!"
"I was saving it for to-day. I wanted this to be the happiest day of ourlives."
"Ah, how happy you've made me!" he said. His voice trembled just alittle and Donna, glancing quickly up at him, detected a suspiciousmoisture in his eyes.
Until that moment she had never fully realized the intensity of theman's nature--the extent of worry and suffering that could lie behindthose smiling eyes and never show! She
saw that a great burden hadsuddenly been lifted from him, and with the necessity for furtherdissembling removed, his strong face was for the moment glorified.She realized now the torture to which she had subjected him by her owntenderness and repression; while their marriage had been a marvelous--awonderful--event to her, to him it had been fraught with terror, despitehis great love, and her thoughts harked back to the night she and HarleyP. Hennage had carried him home to the Hat Ranch. Harley P. had told herthat night that Bob would "stand the acid." How well he could stand it,only she, who had applied it, would ever know.
"Forgive me, dear" she faltered. "If I had only realized--"
"Isn't it great to be married?" he queried. "And to think I was afraidto face it without the price of a honeymoon!"
"You won't have to worry any more. You're rich. You can sell half thewater and we will never go back to San Pasqual any more."
His face clouded. "I can't do that" he said doggedly.
"Why not?" she asked, frightened.
"Because I'll need every drop of it. I've started a fight and I'm goingto finish it. You told me once that if I sold out my Pagans for money tomarry you, you'd be disappointed in me--that if I should start somethingthat was big and noble and worthy of me, I'd have to go through to thefinish. Donna, I'm going through. I may lose on a foul, but I'm notfighting for a draw decision. I schemed for thirty-two thousandacres, and if I get that I have the land ring blocked. But there arehundreds--thousands--of acres further south that I can reach with mycanals, and I cannot rest content with a half-way job. The land ringcannot grab the desert south of Donnaville, because they haven'tsufficient water, and if they had I wouldn't give them a right of waythrough my land for their canals, and I wouldn't sell water to theirdummy entrymen. I want that valley for the men who have never had achance. I've got the water and it's mine in trust for posterity. Itbelongs to Inyo and I'm going to keep it there."
She did not reply. When they reached the hotel, instead of registering,as Donna expected he would, Bob went to the baggage-room and secured hersuit-case which he had checked there two hours before. She watched himwith brimming eyes, but with never a word of complaint. He was right,and if the two weeks' honeymoon that she had planned was not to be, itwas she who had prevented it. She had set her husband a mighty task andbade him finish it, and despite the pain and disappointment of a returnto San Pasqual the same day she had left it, a secret joy mingled withher bitterness.
Poor Donna! She was proud and happy in the knowledge that her husbandhad proved himself equal to the task, but she found it hard, very hard,to be a Pagan on her wedding day.
Bob brought their baggage and set it by her side. "Watch it for a fewminutes, Donna, please" he said. "I forgot something."
He found a seat for her and she waited until his return.
"Have you got that six hundred with you, Donna?" he asked gravely.
She opened her hand-bag and showed him a roll of twenty dollar pieces.
"Good," he replied, in the same grave, even tones. "Here is mypromissory note, at seven per cent, for the amount, payable one dayafter date, and this other document is an assignment of a one-halfinterest in my water-right, to secure the payment of my note."
He handed them to her. In silence she gave him the money.
"Are you quite ready, Donna? I think we had better start now" he said.
She nodded. She could not trust herself to speak for the sobs thatcrowded in her throat. He observed the tears and stooped over hertenderly.
"Why, what's the matter, little wife?"
"It's--it's--a little hard--to have to give up--our honeymoon" shequavered.
"Why, Mrs. Donna Corblay Robert McGraw! Is that the trouble? Well,you're a model Pagan and I'm proud of you, but you don't know the BigChief Pagan after all! Why, we're not going back to San Pasqual for aweek or ten days. I was so busy thinking of all I have to do that I musthave forgotten to tell you that we're going up to the Yosemite Valleyon our honeymoon. I want to show my wife some mountains with grassand trees on them--the meadows and the Merced river and the wonderfulwaterfalls, the birds and the bees and all the other wonderful sightsshe's been dreaming of all her life."
She carefully tore the promissory note and the assignment of interestinto little bits and let them flutter to the floor. The tears were stillquivering on her beautiful lashes, but they were tears of joy, now, andher sense of humor had come to her rescue.
"Foolish man" she retorted, "don't you realize that one cannot mixsentiment and business? Be sensible, my tall husband. You're soimpulsive. Please register and have that baggage sent up to our room,and then let me have a hundred dollars. I want to spend it on adandy tailored suit and some other things that I shall require on ourhoneymoon. In all my life I have never been shopping, and I want to behappy to-day--all day."
"Tell you what we'll do" he suggested. "Let's not think of the future atall. I'm tired of this to-morrow bugaboo."
"I'm not. We're going honeymooning to-morrow."
Harley P. Hennage had at length fallen a victim to the most virulentdisease in San Pasqual. For two days he had been consumed withcuriosity; on the third day he realized that unless the mystery of DonnaCorblay's absence from her job could be satisfactorily explained by theend of the week, he would furnish a description of Donna to a host ofprivate detectives, with instructions to spare no expense in locatingher, dead or alive.
Donna's absence from the eating-house the first day had aroused nosuspicion in Mr. Hennage's mind. It was her day off, and he knew this.But when Mr. Hennage appeared in the eating-house for his meals the dayfollowing, Donna's absence from the cashier's desk impelled him tomild speculation, and when on the third morning he came in to breakfastpurposely late only to find Donna's substitute still on duty, herealized that the time for action had arrived.
"That settles it" he murmured into his second cup of coffee. "That poorgirl is sick and nobody in town gives three whoops in a holler. I'lljust run down to the Hat Ranch to-night an' see if I can't do somethin'for her."
Which, safe under cover of darkness, he accordingly did. At the HatRanch Mr. Hennage was informed by Sam Singer that his young mistress hadboarded the train for Bakersfield three days previous, after informingSam and his squaw that she would not return for two weeks. Under Mr.Hennage's critical cross-examination Soft Wind furnished the informationthat Donna had taken her white suit and all of her best clothes.
"Ah," murmured Mr. Hennage, "as the feller says, I apprehend."
He did, indeed. A great light had suddenly burst upon Mr. Hennage. Bothby nature and training he was possessed of the ability to assimilate ahint without the accompaniment of a kick, and in the twinkling of aneye the situation was as plain to him as four aces and a king, with theentire company standing pat.
He smote his thigh, "Well I'll be ding-swizzled and everlastinglyflabbergasted. Lit out to get married an' never said a word to nobody.Pulls out o' town, dressed in her best suit o' clothes, like old manMcGinty, an' heads north. Uh-huh! Bob McGraw's at the bottom o' this. Hestarted south the day before, an' he ain't arrived in San Pasqual yet."
He sat down at Donna's kitchen table and drew a letter and a telegramfrom his pocket.
"Huh! Huh--hum--m--m! Writes me on Monday from Sacramento that he'sbusted, an' to send him a money order to San Francisco, GeneralDelivery. Letter postmarked ten thirty A. M. Then he wires me fromStockton, the same day, to disregard letter an' telegraph him fifty atStockton. Telegram received about one P. M. Well, sir, that tells thestory. The young feller flopped by the wayside an' spent his last bluechip on this telegram. I wire him the fifty, he wires her to meet him inBakersfield, most likely, an' they're goin' to get married on my fiftydollars. _On my fifty dollars!_"
Mr. Hennage looked up from the telegram and fastened upon Sam Singeran inquiring look, as if he expected the Indian to inform him whatgood reason, if any, existed, why Bob McGraw should not immediately beapprehended by the proper authorities and confined forthwith in a paddedcell.
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sp; "I do wish that dog-gone boy'd took me into his confidence," mourned thegambler, "but that's always the way. Nobody ever trusts me with nuthin'.Damn it! _Fifty dollars!_ I'll give that Bob hell for this--a-marryin'that fine girl on a shoestring an' me a-hangin' around town with upwardo' six thousand iron men in the kitty. It ain't fair. If they wasmarried in San Pasqual I wouldn't butt in nohow, but bein' married someplace else, where none of us is known, I'd a took a chance an' buttedin. I ain't one o' the presumin' kind, but if I'd a-been asked I'da-butted in! You can bet your scalp, Sam, if I'd a-had the givin' awayo' that blushin' bride, I'd 'a shoved across a stack o' blue chips withher that'd 'a set them young folks on their feet. Oh, hell's bells! Ifthat ain't plumb removin' the limit! Sam, you'd orter be right thankfulyou're only an Injun. If you was a human bein' you'd know what it is tohave your feelin's hurt."
He smote the table with his fist. "Serves me right," he growled. "Thereain't no fun in life for a man that lives off the weaknesses of otherpeople," and with this self-accusing remark Mr. Hennage, feelingslighted and neglected, returned to his game in the Silver Dollarsaloon. He was preoccupied and unhappy, and that night he lost fivehundred dollars.
Bright and early next morning, however, the gambler went to the publictelephone station and called up the principal hotel in Bakersfield. Herequested speech with either Mr. or Mrs. Robert McGraw. After somedelay he was informed that Mr. and Mrs. McGraw had left the day before,without leaving a forwarding address.
"Well, I won't say nothin' about it until they do" was the conclusionat which Mr. Hennage finally arrived. "Of course it's just possible Ihappened across the trail of another family o' McGraws, but I'm layin'two to one I didn't."
And having thus ferreted out Donna's secret, Harley P., like a truesport, proceeded to forget it. He moused around the post-office alittle and put forth a few discreet feelers here and there, in order todiscover whether San Pasqual, generally speaking, was at all interested.He discovered that it was not. In fact, in all San Pasqual the onlyinterested person was Mrs. Pennycook, who heaved a sigh of relief at thethought that her Dan was, for the nonce, outside the sphere of Donna'sinfluence.
In the meantime Donna and Bob, in the beautiful Yosemite, rode andtramped through ten glorious, blissful days. It would be impossible toattempt to describe in adequate fashion the delights of that honeymoon.To Donna, so suddenly transported from the glaring drab lifeless desertto this great natural park, the first sight of the valley had been aglimpse into Paradise. She was awed by the sublimity of nature, andall that first day she hardly spoke, even to Bob. Such happiness wasunbelievable. She was almost afraid to speak, lest she awaken and findherself back in San Pasqual. As for Bob, he had resolutely set himselfto the task of forgetting the future--at least during their honeymoon.He forgot about the thirty-nine thousand dollars he required, he forgotabout Donnaville; and had even the most lowly of his Pagans interferedwith his happiness for one single fleeting second, Mr. McGraw wouldassuredly have slain him instanter and then laughed at the tragedy.
It was very late in the season and the vivid green which, comes withspring had departed from the valley. But if it had, so also had themajority of tourists, and Bob and Donna had the hotel largely tothemselves. Each day they journeyed to some distant portion of thevalley, carrying their luncheon, and returning at nightfall to thehotel. After dinner they would sit together on the veranda, watchingthe moon rise over the rim of that wonderful valley, listening to thetree-toads in noisy convention or hearkening to the "plunk" of a troutleaping in the river below. Hardly a breath of air stirred in thevalley. All was peace. It was an Eden.
On the last night of their stay, Bob broached for the first time thesubject of their future.
"We must start for--for home to-morrow, Donna" he said. "At least youmust. You have a home to go to. As for me, I've got to go into thedesert and strike one final blow for Donnaville. I've got to take onemore long chance for a quick little fortune before I give up and sell myPagans into bondage."
"Yes" she replied heedlessly. She had him with her now; the shadow ofimpending separation had not yet fallen upon her.
"What are your plans, Donna?" he asked.
"My plans?"
"Yes. Is it still your intention to keep on working?"
"Why not? I must do something. I must await you somewhere, so why notat San Pasqual? It is cheaper there and it will help if I can beself-supporting until you come back. Besides, I'd rather work than sitidle around the Hat Ranch."
He made no reply to this. He had already threshed the matter over in hismind and there was no answer.
"I'll accompany you as far as San Pasqual, Donna. We'll go southto-morrow and arrive at San Pasqual, shortly after dark. I'll escortyou to the Hat Ranch, change into my desert togs, saddle Friar Tuckand light out. I'll ride to Keeler and sell horse and saddle and spursthere. At Keeler I'll buy two burros and outfit for my trip; then strikeeast, via Darwin or Coso Springs."
"How long will you be in the desert?"
"About six months, I think. I'll come out late in the spring when itbegins to get real hot. Do you think you can wait that long?"
"I think so. Will it be possible for me to write to you in themeantime?"
"Perhaps. I'll leave word in the miners' outfitting store at Danby andyou can address me there. Then, if some prospector should be headingout my way they'll send out my letters. My claims are forty miles fromDanby, over near Old Woman mountain. If I meet any prospectors going outtoward the railroad, I'll write you."
"The days will be very long until you come back, dear, but I'll bepatient. I realize what it means to you, and Donnaville is worth thesacrifice. You know I told you I wanted to help."
"You are helping--more than you realize. You'll be safe until I getback?"
"I've always been safe at the Hat Ranch, but if I should need a friendI can call on Harley P. He isn't one of the presuming kind"--Donnasmiled--"but he will stand the acid."
"And you will not worry if you do not receive any letters from me allthe time I am away?"
"I shall know what to expect, Bob, so I shall not worry--very much."
They left the Yosemite early next morning, staging down to El Portal,and shortly after dusk the same evening they arrived at San Pasqual.There were few people at the station when the train pulled in, and nonethat Donna knew, except the station agent and his assistants; and asthese worthies were busy up at the baggage car, Bob and Donna alightedat the rear end and under the friendly cover of darkness made their waydown to the Hat Ranch.
Sam Singer and Soft Wind had not yet retired, and after seeing his bridesafe in her home once more, Bob McGraw prepared to leave her.
She was sorely tempted, at that final test of separation, to pleadwith him to abandon his journey, to stay with her and their new-foundhappiness and leave to another the gigantic task of reclaiming thevalley. It was such a forlorn hope, after all; she began to question hisright to stake their future against that of persons to whom he owed noallegiance, until she remembered that a great work must ever requiregreat sacrifice; that her share in this sacrifice was little, indeed,compared with his. Moreover, he had set his face to this task before hehad met her--she would not be worthy of him if she asked him to abandonit now.
"I must go" he said huskily. "The moon will be up by ten o'clock and Ican make better time traveling by moonlight than I can after sun-up."
She clung to him for one breathless second; then, with a final caressshe sent him forth to battle for his Pagans.
She was back at the cashier's counter in the eating-house the nextmorning when Harley P. Hennage came in for his breakfast.
"Hello, Miss Donna" the unassuming one greeted her cordially. "Where'veyou been an' when did you get back to San Pasqual? Why, I like to 'adied o' grief. Thought you'd run away an' got married an' left us forgood."
He watched her narrowly and noted the little blush that marked thelanding of his apparently random shot.
"I've been away on my first vacation, went up to Yosemi
te Valley. I gotback last night."
"Glad of it" replied Mr. Hennage heartily. "Enjoy yourself?"
"It was glorious."
He talked with her for a few minutes, then waddled to his favorite seatand ordered his ham and eggs.
"Well, she didn't fib to me, at any rate, even if she didn't tell thewhole truth" he soliloquized. "But what's chewin' the soul out o' me isthis: 'How in Sam Hill did they make fifty dollars go that far?' If Iwas gettin' married, fifty dollars wouldn't begin to pay for the firstround o' drinks."
It had not escaped the gambler's observing eye that Donna had beencrying, so immediately after breakfast Mr. Hennage strolled over to thefeed corral, leaned his arms on the top rail and carefully scanned theherd of horses within.
Bob McGraw's little roan cayuse was gone!
"Well, if that don't beat the Dutch!" exclaimed Mr. Hennage disgustedly."If that young feller ain't one fool of a bridegroom, a-runnin'away from his bride like this! For quick moves that feller's got theCalifornia flea faded to a whisper. Two weeks ago he was a-practicin'law in Sacramento, a-puttin' through a deal in lieu lands; then he jumpsto Stockton an' wires me for fifty dollars; then he hops to Bakersfieldan' gits married, after which he lands in the Yosemite Valley on hishoneymoon. From there he jumps to San Pasqual, an' from San Pasqual hefades away into the desert an' leaves his bride at home a-weepin' an'a-cryin'. I don't understand this business nohow, an' I'll be dog-gonedif I'm a-goin' to try. It's too big an order."
Three days later Harley P. Hennage wished that he had not been soinquisitive. That glance into the feed corral was to cost him many apang and many a dollar; for, with rare exceptions, there is no saying sotrue as this: that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
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