The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 20, 1903, Page 13

THOUBAND mtles of level plain from green with and patches of sprouting wild oats; bounded on the east by the snow wall of the Bierras and on the west by the hori- north to south, clover son. A stretch of thirty miles, where was but one tree, a tall oak; It stood In a billowy hol of the dead level, therefore not seen except at near range. They called it the haunted tree. “Old Bolem™ stood In t door of his house and looked out v the flat solitude. T won der what Tek,” he said Old Bole: abeth and his Ii hter, whose ni 'kn}:m‘: was Tek, had crossed the plains in the trall of Fremont; he had helped to raise oma and at Fort Zlizabeth had dread- the plains, but would not without her. had they started on h tried to the utter- the Bear flax at ¢ Butter. His wife od is of men; but when the vast, limitless desert plains were reached, when the terrible solitude drew near and touched them, and the rain of plodding oxen and canvas cov- ered were as & line of crippled &nts, & strange fear fell upon Elizabeth. She ne and crouch close to him was ever king over her apprehensi e, fright- n he asked her if she was af s, £he smiled faint- s it 1s the shadow thing bigger than a b he persist- . § “It is the ol he 18] to begin the re- L = ed by telling about t of her; but then, e except Adam S t s had a father i 8 t the fath- ers mothers e you are e me knowledge of what ves have in their makeup. the August days when the dog . rules and the rattlesnake is blind, pass that Old Solem stood western slope intains with a spade r side & new-made grave, r v his month-old babe. Be- 3 h = he little girl, a look of her face; from around the hind the covered wagon come the She sat down by the and patted the damp m wasted hand, then with a trusting smile began to sing o' Baby Bunting!™ “Why do sm father?” e girl asked with solemn eyes upturned to his and m mother His broad chest shook with an inward sob. “It is the shadow of the plal Tek,” he replied ng his face from her that she t see the twitch- ing muscles abo A sigh rustle leaves of the pine tree and et nto & breeze that roared up the echoing canyon; a of enowy white cloud drifted acrose the face of the sun; there was a warning chilliness in it y moving shadow —and many the mile was it yet to his promised land There were no county lines in Call- fornia. In the midst of the great plain he unyoked his oxen and pitched his tent to stay was here the name of 014 Solem" s fixed upon him. Hours end hours, days end days, of years, Flizabeth sat by a door or window gaz- ing out at nothing: his voice took on a gentler {one her presence and Tek fleece s swl » her fifteenth birthday an ever ppened in the life of Tek A neighbor settled within a mile of Old [ and the neighbor had a daughter leas than one year older than Tek her- self. Tek's joy was as her wide plains stretching to the west—it reached the horizon The other girl's name was Millle Gray e was fair-faced, fair- She was just from r of the =he »f croseing the plains; f horses and ropes and es she wore were wore her hair in two bralds, a world unknown their arms ists, and played friendship isthmus; to arould each with abet was shown in ns, Tek's.in action. It might have gone on thus ndingly but for the next event Out of a cloud of dust in the fall of ar rode a young man, end rode ht into both of their hearts. Then the self that had lain dormant in each girl’s nature rose full grown to life. He was young and t e of face and goodly favored. t young stranger. - He e a big Mexican sombrero, with sllver ornaments on the crown of it. A gey sash was about his waist, around his neck a many colored silk handker- chief; the heeis of his boots were high, the trappings of his California saddle and bridle were costly, his jingling epurs were set with silver. On his little finger was a ring which glittered rain- bows in the sun. The two girls were playing with Elizabeth in the shade of the house when he rode up. They arose @s one and stood waiting for him to speak. His eyes brightened with ad- miration as they fell upon Millie’s smil- ing countenance, but it was on Tek's swarthier face and wondering bigbrown eyes that his glance lingered; it was of Tek he asked for a drink of water and for directions to the living place of one Orton by name, who was not in the high esteem of the people thereabout, it being hinted broadly that the disap- pearance of many head of horses and cattle could be laid at his door. The goodly stranger introduced himself to the two girls—an unusual happening—and then it was Millie who assumed the honors. “Do you stay long in these parts?” There was a sim- per and an inflection in her voice new to Tek. “I did not intend to when I came, but now I am not so decided about it.” He spoke to Millie, but looked at Tek. Her cheeks flushed under his boldly admir- ing eyes. She had never seen any man like that: he was of the people of her dreams, except that he should have rid- den a camel and have come out of the East The two girls stood together watching im ride away—when he had no longer a sign of excuse to remain. ‘“‘Harrison Nevil, what a pretty name,” murmured Millie. She stooped and wrote in the dust of the yard, “Millie Nevil.” Tek saw the writing. “It's not as as Milife Grayson.” Millle, with sweep of her hand, wiped . exclaiming: “I just wrote Tek smiled; the smile an- gered M “My father says your father is a fool to keep on living with a loco. He says he ought to leave her and marry somebody't wasn't locoed, if 't wasn't nobody more.’n 8 squaw.” Tek's face went te, her nostrils n ed with the drawing in of her breath. “That shows what kind of a father you have.” “Well, I am glad mother's not a * and she shot isive glance at Elizabeth Quick as a flash Tek gave her a stinging slap on the cheek. Millie cried and went home. “I wouldn't ‘a’ slapped her ®o hard,” Tek sighed, “if I had 'a’ known she would not fight back.” The my pexf day brought Harrison and the next and the next. Old So- ljem, with a rare twinkle in his eves, suggested that his house seemed to be always on “the president’s” route; and to this day people in that part of the country who knew Harrison Nevil remember him only by that title. It was wonderful to see the blossoming of Tek in those days; her father sald to her: “My little s getting to be a beauty.” She hugged him. Millle stayed away & week and the f of another. There being only a e of dusty level between the houses eves accustomed to the plains could easily see a horse that distance, and with but little imagination could know surety that it was hitched to a post. “The president” sat in the shade of the house beside Tek; their chalrs were near together; with an impulsive quickness he took her hand and held it fast, moving his chair even nearer. Tek's eyelids dropped till the lashes hid her eves. She did not know that eye- lashes such as hers were a beauty mark. She was afraid he would heas Te h HIRRSS O /Yg/:w I her heart beat; something new and strange and sweet had slipped into her life. A slight cough startled them both; he dropped her hand, but gave It a quick pressure as his fingers let go. It was Millie who stood before them. Tek glanced up at her, then stared, too sur- .prised to speak. Was it Millle? Her fair hair was done up high on the back of her head: her sleeves were ruffled tucked to the elbows, showing her bare shapely arms: her dress skirt was lengthened to the ground. She carried a silk fringed parasol— a relic of her mother's Eastern finery. All unmind- ful of the stare, she smiled: “Good afternoon, Tek: you've not been over for several davs. 1 was afraid your mother might 'a’ got worse and thought I'd come and see if I could be of any use. Why, Mr. Nevil, I did not expect to see you again.” She extended the tips of her fingers, which he took and bowed over, expressing his pleasure at seeing her again. Tek had a desire to glap her other cheek and say, “What a lie, Millle Grayson; you've -seen his horse hitched to that post every day since you were here, and that's why you came.” To keep the desire under her will she pushed her chair toward Millle and ran away to bring anether, but not so far that she did not hear Millie's voice cooing: *“Tek is a good girl, but =o impulsive,” and then with & little sigh, ““but one could nct expect much else, brought up as she’s been-in this uncivilized country without any advantoges.” Tek was dmazed; Millie was no longer a little girl, she was a young lady, a species of being of which Tek had no knowledge. She vaguely wondered if some time she might wake up and find herself transformed like that—hoping she might not. In the world she had filled with her thought people there were none like Millie; her young women were princesses with large natures and generous hearts. When she returned to the yard carrying the chair, which she had been slow to dd, the president stood with his hat in his hand. Millie stood facing him, look- ing down and marking circles on the ground with the toe of her shoe. She looked up as Tek came out and ceased to make the circles. ‘“Mr. Nevil is go- ing to take me home on his horse; the sun is so hot”” Tek glanced at the lengthening shade of the house and felt her shoulders hiteh into a shrug; a fear came upon her that she 'was turning into something like Millle. A curious ache was in her heart as she watched them ride away. Millie screeched with fright the minute the horse started, #9 that “the president,” sitting dehind the saddle, naturally had to put his arm around her walst to quiet her fear. The sweet, beautiful something was slipping out of Tek’s life; mechanically she went to Elizabeth, who sat gazing out of the window and dropping on the floor be- side her hid her face in her mbdther's lap. Elizabeth put her hand on Tek's head and patted her hair, repeating softly: “Tek-a-me, Tek-a-me.” Tek lifted her face eagerly, but already the hand had dropped listlessly, and Eliza- beth's eyes were gazing far into the unseeable where minds go. When Old Solem came home that night Tek met him with: “Father, is there any such words in the world as ‘Tek-a-me?" " * ‘“Why, Teck,” he answered with a smile—he always smiled on Tek- you remember so far.back? That's the first thing you ever sald. You reached your little arms to your mother and sald, ‘Tek-a-me.” She caught you up and danced you round the room and repeated it after you, and that's how you got your nickname. We called you ‘Little Tek-a-me,” and as you grew older it got ghortened to Tek. “As I lengthened my name short- ened.” She tried to be merry with him, but something was gone wrong. She could not know that Millle had asked to be taken home, claiming the sun made her il The following afternoon when the president came to see Tek Millle was there before him; his ring was on her finger and she was explaining that the name of it was a “diamond” and that it was worth several hundred dollars. “I wouid be afraid to carry such a valu- able thing, speclally when it belongs to somebody else.” Tek’s attempt at in- difference would have been amusing if it had not been pathetic. “Who sald it belonged to somebody else?” flared Mil- lie. “He put it on my finger with a wish.” She did not add that she had asked him to let her wear it and to “wish” it on her finger. In telling any- thing for a purpose we always tell more than the truth, or less—elither Is as dan- gerous as the other, Elizabeth walked slowly past the i beth, “you will always have old mald.” “Why must I “Because,” Millle put her head near Tek’s that the president, who was approaching might not hear, and sald something in a low tone. The color of life fled from Tek that moment—the sun dropped out of her heaven. The days went by somehow, she hard- 1y knew how, but they went. The fall was gone, the winter rain set in, the grass pushed up its green tinge through the earth, and again the Christmas tide was at hand. In the twilight of Christmas eve Tek #at watching the full moon rise; hear- ing her name called cautiously she looked out and saw Millle standing under the window, her eyes swollen and red with weeping. It was the first time Tek had met her face to face since Millle had sald the thing which scorched Tek's soul. But Millie's face was distressed, and Tek was tender- hearted. “What's the matter, Millla?" was'her greeting. “Ceme out and let me tell you,” sob- bed Millle. Tek climbed out through the window and suffered Millie to pull her away from the house, where, with many fears, she told her trouble. The “Vigilance Committee” were go- ing to take the president—they bel}eved him to be.connected with a gang of robbers of which they were sure his friend Orton was the leader. They were going to hang him on the haunted tree at sunrise unless he gave up the names of the gang before that time. He wore gay apparel, spent much money, had no Known source of income, no interests in the country, no apparent reason for re- maining—the intervals between unac- counted for absences he made the abode of Orton his stopping place. All of this between sobs. “Sorrell told me all about it and laughed as he rode away. You see, Sorrell is in love with mé too"—Millle was finishing her :(urvy {n & manner more natural to her. “He's jealous of the president, and between s two, Tek, 1 hardly know which one of 'em 1 like the best, but I could not pear to have the president hanged—and my father's gone away for a week. Oh, . "will you do?” Tek listened o e to Millie's prattle with the feeling that her blood was turning to ice. She had ridden past the haunted tree once after the ‘“vigi- lantes” had been there, and had seen a man hanging by the neck, his shiny, new hat set cor- rectly, top-up, at the root of the tree. Bhe had s the ghastly thing at the end of the rope sway and turn slowly around as a sudden puff of wind struck it. To see the president like that? God in heaven, she could not! Miille pulled her sleeve. “l1 sald what will you do, Tek?" “What will I do?” sald Tek in a dreary volce. “What will you do? Why don’t | you go and warn | him? If & man were ‘ going to be hanged | for hanging around me all summer I'd go to the Vigilance ~ace Committee’ and tell them the truth. TId tell them he had not left my side long enough to steal a horse.” “But I can't do that: I don’t know where they are, and I could not, nohow. You are cruel and you don’t care if the president is hanged, just because he prefers me to you.” “You are such a fool, Millle. T'll saddle Prince and take you home.” To her father she called: “I'm going to take Millie home, father; don’t walt up for me." ‘When O1d Solem had read his chapter in the Bible he snapped his spectacles in their metal case and went to bed. His faith in his Tek was as his faith in his Bible. And it was as Millle had sald. ‘While Harrison slept, dreaming per- haps, of his rich old father in the far away Bast and the gentle mother, whose every letter prayed him to re- turn, a baker's dozen of men woke him from the pleasant dream and told thelr grim errand. # He was no coward, notwithstanding his gallant appearance, but when he looked into those determined faces the night grew very chilly. “You will hang mae, gentlemen, if you will; the odds are against me, but I know nothing to tell you; and it's not likely I would tell it if I 414,” was what he sald. It was an unlucky speech, considering that their errand was to make him tell. Sor- rell reached under the bed where Har- rison had slept and drew forth a saddle. “My saddle,” he called out exultantly; “stole with my horse a month ago.” “Perhaps, Sorrell. If you would look under the other bunk you'd find the horse.”-That speech came near turning the scale in his favor. The laugh was on Sorrell. One whose wrists were dec- orated with blue anchors nudged him. saying {n an undertone: “Hi say, has ‘ow ye'd better peach on the gang.” There was no reply. “Yer a fine lad, a fine lad an’ brave. HI 'ate to see ye strung.” “Come, young fellow, just give us the names of your friends and you go ‘Scot free.'” urged another. “Gentlemen, as I have sald, I know nothing to tell, and if 1 were what you think me, I would be a poor sort If I brought my comrades all to the noose Just to save my own neck.” “That’s brave talk, fellows,” said Sor- rell, before ancther had time to speak; “he’ll sing a different tune when the rope is round his neck. Come on, 1t'll be sun up now before we get to the tree. He can sav his prayers as we ride along.” “Too bad, Sorrell, there's noth- ing nearer that's high enough from the ground to hang a man on. I might es- cape on the way.” “No danger,” Sor- rell smiled significantly. One of the things he hated Harrison for was that Harrison insistently said Sor-rell instead of Sorrell, the name with the accent on the first syllable be- ing the exact shade of his hair. From Orton’s cabin to the hollow where the haunted oak stood was but a short two miles—a hollow where the popples grew larger and longer stemmed than else- where and the alflllarilla grew ranker. The sun was not yet above the moun- tain top when the cavalcade, the dis- pensers of justice and the judge, drew near. Harrison's hands were tied be- hind him. To say what was in his thoughts would be to say that which no roan would tell. At each man's beit the handle of a revolver showed and cross-wise before him he carried a rifle, no sign of relenting in any face—unless indeed, it were in his who wore the blue tattoo on his wrists: he had been as jolly a tar as sailed under her Majesty’s colors, and the courage of the man with his hands tled pleased him mightly. He that was Sorrell both of name and hair stopped the long easy lope of his horse in one bound. He raised himself high iIn his stirrups and looked ahead. The others stopped simultaneously. “What is it?” What do you see?” came in several voices. It was nearing the end of the days of the “vigilants.” There were Sheriffs and posses with the law at their backs already in the land. Unconsciously each man wondered about the fleetness of his horse. “What do I see?” replied Sorrell. “See noth- ing. That's it—what's become of that tree? It w here at sundown last night. Has the earth swallowed it? Dees any man of you see it?” They looked up and shook their heads; no tree was in sight. There was a quick jingle of belled spurs, a clatter of hoofs and the horses were halted as one on the rim of the hollow. The tall oak with its gallows arms lay stretched on the earth. Every branch and limb of it broken In the crash of its fall. On the fallen trunk sat Tek, her father's ax leaned against her knees. Her heels were gently tap- ping the bark. She looked pale and tired; there was a droop to her shoul- ders; ‘her mouth looked as though it 22 had never smiled and never would. “Who chopped that tree down?” de- manded Sorrell In his severest tone. “T did.” Tek's volce was dull and tired. “I don't believe it,” blurted out Sorrell. She held up the palms of her hands. “The devil.” Sorrell was genuinely suprised. Tek put aside a fold of her short dress; old Sanchez’s present, the sflver- mounted six shooter, lay In her lap. “You ought to be ashamed of your- selves, taking human blood on your hands on Christmas day.” “The devil! Is it Christmas? I didn't know it.” “Ner I, nuther.” “Neither did L. “Gee whillikins, I did not know it was Christmas! Ain't snowed yit. Christmas is a day for making pres- ents. I say men, let’s make the little girl a Christmas gift of the life of this young man and give him three days to get out of the country in.” “Hi say now has 'ow Christmas gifts with strings hon ’em hare no gifts.” “Right you are, old Salt; we'll give it unconditionally.” The last to speak took.a big knife from his boot leg and cut the rope from Harrison's wrists. He of the tattooed arms rode near and nudged him gently ‘with his elbow. “Hi'm glaghit's Christ- mas. Hi was never hat a ’anging be- fore.” There was another Jingle of spurs and clatter of hoofs. The big red sun slipped up above the snow-rim of the Bterras and flooded the world with a new day. Harrison stood before Tek. “You have saved my life, Tek; what are you golng to ‘do with 1t?" “Nothing.” “But I am your Christmas gift.” He made a hollow attempt at a laugh. “Then I will give you back to your- self, and Millie, to whom you belong.”™ He took her two hands and pressed his lips upon them again and again. He told her she was the only girl in the world and that he worshiped her. Blushing for the unmanliness of it, he explained, in self-defense, his position with Millie, and Tek belleved. What of womankind would not? Her face shone with the glory which came first to the earth when God sald, “Let there be light.” Then the thing Millle had whispered to her that day in the fall arose before her eyes and burned in her ears. ‘It would be a crime for a girl with & misfortune like that in her fam- 1ly to let a man marry her.” She drew her hands away from him saying in a dull way: “I can never be anything to you—never, never, never.” No further explanation would she make, though he pleaded with her for hours. Finally In very desperation he told her there was but one thing in the world would madke him give hef up. If she said she did not love him he would go away. Slowly and In a queer tone peated. ‘I do not.”™ Tt was the first lle Tek had ever told. He arose from his seat by her side and stood looking down upon her bowed head In silence. From an uneven mound very near the stump of the tres he gathered & hand- ful of popples, big gold and orange cups of sunshine; he twisted them into a wreath and laid it on Tek's head. From his own finger he took the glittering stone, which had brought such mis- understanding and slipped it on a finger of hers. She could not hear the vow he made. She did not lift her face as odé away, and he did not look back. Wwonder what's keeping Tek?” Old Solem repeated; at that very moment Tek rode slowly Into the corral and dis- mounted. “Tek,” he called, coming to meet her. A tone in his voice caused her to look up quickly. Could it be “Old Solem,™ her father—that man with the spring- ing ‘step; that man with the smiling face uplifted toward the sky? She stopped and looked at him, the bridle rein sliding from her fingers. Tek. I have such a Christmas gift for you as only God could give—your mother, Tek, your mother! She Is all her sweet beautiful self again. We have talked all day and walited for you. Every day and every night for se dark years I have prayed”—he stopped short in his speech—he was not g to much speaking. “Why, Tek, you have a crown of gold thorns on your head!™ The poppies, true to their nature, had fternoon and stood she re- gore to sleep in the out arou her head—a circle of sharp- pointed spikes of gold. Tek put up her hand and touched them. “It is the shadow of the plains, father,” she said, and started into the house; but involuntarily turned her face toward the haunted tree. Then it was that Tek's heart beat up into his throat, for thers was Harrison riding at a hard gallop on her pony’'s tracks— no mirage, no figment of overwrought fancy. but himself coming back to her. She snatched the poppy thorns from her forehead and hid them In her bosom. The shadow of the plaina was lifted forever. Yuletide Beatitude Continued From Page Six. took the coach for Nottingham. As it was growing dusk the following day she neared her journey's end. The coach stopped at Red Cottage, and how her heart beat high with hope—a hope 8 8 that slowly dled when Miss Brown hesitated after finishing the letter. “Oh. don't teil me he is not here.” Miss Brown could only shake her head and led the tearful mother into her room, where the fire was blazing mer- rily. . It was Christmas eve. The jingle of sleigh bells could be heard over the snow and the winter moon cast a halo of soft beauty over the surrounding Jandscape. The two women had been to church and Miss Brown had gone out before the service was over to at- tend to some church affairs. Mrs. Kem- ble was filled with the thought of her boy and as she kneit in front of the crucifix in cilent prayer she heeded not the passing procession of choristers who had just finished their ever- glorigus “Adeste Fideles” in praise of the new-born King. A figure in a soldier's uniform ¢n- tered the church quietly and as his eyes wandered over its old columns and arches, his attention was drawn to the recessional of the vested choristers. The sweet perfume of incense fllled the air, and his heart filled with emo- tion as the familiar sights greeted his gaze. The choir slowly moved down the aisle, and Jack Kemble's eyes fol- lowed them until their footsteps died away in the distance. He noticed the motiopless figure in front of the cru- cified Savior, and as the organ pealed forth its glad alleluia of “Pemce on earth, good will to men,” he walked slowly to the chancel steps. The les- sons taught In his early youth came back to him and instinctively he knelt in prayer. As he arose his eyes fell upon the kneeling weman. He gave a quick start and as if impelled by some un- seen spirit moved toward her. She raised her eyes and as Jack Kemble's looked down into hers he knew that his miniature had come to life, and with a quiet ery the pent-up feelings of the mothér overcame her, and in the strong arms of her son she was gently borne to the vestry room.