The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 11, 1906, Page 8

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY ‘CALL. b e e HENRY R fore- Bill” »meward, led from toward ilroad g e stant hang ot gs of the dried n the st it k. such & aste that the buck’s horn rack fror wall, and horns, knife gun ¢ g down together of the gun striking L4 F & ‘toe. Tt was = gu C uble sarreled make, simu loads ex- ¥ e tea ragged hole in the P loor; dog with errifie fled 1 g past the that his own foot was s s: he could of his boot sickened him chair th 0 was d crossing his arms dropped his head dead numbness of his ne thing—he did gged; never to never to stand fellows. It was too y. He had been he had ychology e man; this was e among his like there where he , that’s what he would not take g d then he wondered if she f she would care Many time he t ®aid that when a was dving, the deeds of his past life arose ngly or otherwise, as So his mind trav- making record of the 2 1d go no further than to e e met Lavantia de Lacle. His t have begun on turned her beautl- him and the ppst know the to es on had the blood of er veins and with it grace and an inno- eyes that antedated Commune. But her jcen forefathers had blazed roads h the wilderness for civilization till the Pacific Ocean stood Thus it came that she ed where beautiful y reached out into the land; »d the old” Mission El Car- pped r the glory of yesterdays coquettish ck of the ys of The wr ro ind w ead that she h a mocking hroat, that she could de- hemselves with her wonderful voice it great things were ex- e birds A sweet which 1l that day; that first 7 he had spoken to her alone. It came back to him now with all its vivid coloring. The grove of cypress; the curving bay whose @impiing waters flashed back sunlight, the poppy-spangled greenness all around, and Lavantia, 7€ to the knees In a great bank of golden poppies, singing to the mock- ing bird hidden in_ the cypress tree. The bird answered with a knowing trill, and he had made bold to ask her: “I>o you understand the birds?” “No,” e had smilingly replied, “but the birds, you See, are wiser; they. under- stand me.” It was such sweet foolishness, but they had walked away hand In hand through the blazonry of the poppies the ot Y followed by a chorus of melody from . the mocking birds in the cypress grove. In broad contrast was this lonely desert place to which he had brought her. This oddly shaped dwelling which elf had built of the many shad- saltic rock, that lay. all about in anic heaps—porous and pimpled, shiny black, olive-hued, tints of jade and iron rust, just as the agonized had burst it red hot from her king breast some aeons of years And_the lands e looked down upon buynches of te,” each on its separate-himinock of sand: patches of wood, an uncertaln line of mbs- trees marking the sinuosities of me buried stream; sweeps Of pungent ert sage, and the cone shaped rocky ak whereon one glant d its sensuou of blood red bloom. The flat, glimmering, mirage- haunted desert beyond it alll Truly, it was a dreary place h a bride—a beautiful young girl greas: solitary cac- beauty was voice and- d-—- tion. So d ran on: not. the face of a e woman had she sce \ce she itered -his door three 'years ago. re was one other -white -woman, to » sure; the wife of that bull-headed erry Blair” led anberry. because he swore he had never eaten a\‘;" was ten miles station—that bull-headed whom “he had had s with over the branding of a calf. wondered now why it had never d to him ito ask her if she would to know- this other white woman. people had said she w moon-mad ry him and would regret it. And v it had come to pass, What a fool he had been to believe he could be all sufficient for every need of her nature, every desire of her soul; but they had Peen'so happy. How bra ly she had ridden that long twenty miles on the old buckboard, and when he had set her down at the door, deploring the odd, ugly house he had brought her to, she had said it was picturesque and beautiful, and she had shyly added that any house would be a palace where he was king. Yes, she had sald that very self- same, sweet foolish thing, and had laughed a happy taugh; he could hear the ring of it yet. And that night they had walked out on the promontory, whose flat top ended in a perpendicular wall with the desert distance at its foot, mow clearly came back. They stood on the brink of land looking out upon an ocean of moonshine—a thou- MADGE MORRIS sand rounding miles of moonlit silence —there was a supernaturalness in the vastness and the silence. And she had lifted her voice and sang; the divine sweetness of ‘it touched every fiber of his being—the song of an ‘awakened lark, soaring not up and up to:the blue heavens, ‘but out and. out—far out across an arid world, gnd floating away on the fiood of the moon. There ‘were tears’in 'his eyes when the songsceased, he:did not know why, and he had put hig. arm around her wiiist and held her nearer to him, lest she slip away from him and follow the R THIE TARLE - LAY 5 DOCTT ® R JEPNS song. Yes, they had been happy; W liked to think it over. A new Adam and a new Eve in a new Eden. Then Doctor James Morgan had come to them with his newly won de- gree and depleted . health—and .- that book on the table’ in his pocket. He and Lavantia had played together when they were almost too young to'remem- ber it, and had not seen each other in the lapse of years since, that time, but they called each other “Van” and “Jim"” as they had done in that other time. He had read and quoted:: beautitul things to her; it was only-last night, sitting thers vy the table, he had read lines: “A jug Oof wine, & d, and thou beside me sing- ing in the wilderness.” And he looked at Lavantis with such straight meaning, with his soul so undisguised, such a stress on the “thou.” that a wave of pink had rushed into her cheeks. A man cannot strike another man for a glance of the eyes; nor con- demn a woman for blushing. There are women who blush for no cause at all, and women who never blush for any cause. But he himself had ridden away in the morning with @ proud hurt in his heart. He haa tried to call himself a “jealous fool.” but he knew that no man sent that significant glance to a woman for nothing. And she had changed in some indefinable way; there was a pathetic droop to her pretty mouth and a wistful far-gazing expression in her violet eyes. 3 Then “Doctor Jim,” which was the niékname he called Morgan, had taken ‘that sudden notion to go home—had told him good-by in the morning when he himself had started on a two days’ ride around the range. And “Doctor Jim"” had gone as he had said he would, for, looking back from an eminence, he had seen him going, riding slowly, with bowed head. In that moment he had found it in his heart to be sorry for “Doctor Jim"—though glad that he was goln o s But it was all a ruse—there was the evidence of it, and they had ridden away and: left him without a word. He could see jyst the chivalrous way “Doctor Jim” would stoop and hold out his hand for her to step up on, and how gently he would lift her to the saddle. Yorester shut his testh hard, a tear- less sob shook him from head to fool ‘Women liked those chivalrous little at- tentions, why did men drop them after marriage? “Doctor Jim” had seemed to be on the lookout for pretty attentions to pay her; he himself had used to be, and *“Doctor Jim” would drop them, too, when—the hot blood rushed to his tem- ples—gods! he was a coward o sit there and tamely bleed to death? He. Bill Forester, who had feared not any thing In his whols life? He raised his head and looked down at his foot; gave a start and lifted it, with his hands to his other knee. Then he slowly ejaculated: “H-e-1-1!" Not a drop of blood, not a sign except a dent in the leather by the welght of the gun. A hurt toe, a flea-bite! Life bounded back along his veins, and venge- ance clamored for a new hearing. But he would do nothing rashly—so he looked In the stable to make sure that It was empty. He rode to the hut of old Ynez, the half-Indian, half-Mex- fcan woman, who stayed at the house with Lavantia in the nights of his absences. Wheeling his horse, he rode away to the trall, which he followed a short distance, then left it. making straight for a long volcanic looking ridge. He knew a shorter ro to the station; it was through eadmans Pass. There was but one overland a day each way, and the trains passed ‘each other "at this station at & in the morning—when on time. There was no place they would go except to this station; ere was no way they could go beyond it except by train. He could easily overtake thefn. for the time was the full of the moon—otherwise Dead- mans Pass was riding by night. And if he arrived in time, what then? His intent went no farther: the primal instinct of man to kill his foe _lar, it tugged at his legaings and t was upon him, so he reasoned as he fode. he Emerging from the pass, upon flat vastness of the desert, he I¢ oked ars and the up at the large eyed s hanging moon—immensity Was terrible. He stopped to let the rest, and sat gazing into the night.” The moon was bright enough to read by; the sand was luminous in the Nght of it; there was not a shadow om the world, not a sound in it—he and his horse the only living thing: He thought of that other night again. The horse moved on of its own desire Forester rode limply, with bowed head; he had forgotten the moon-shriven world and the awesomeness of immen- sity. After a while the tired horse be- came restive, tossed his head, and would have run but for the mechani- cally drawn rein at his bit. The lumi- nous sand took on a dim gray. A whiff of disturbed air cooled the dampness where Forester's hat rimmed his fore- head. The next moment the hat was lifted from his head and went flying to the earth, where it rolled on the edge of its stiff broad brim, like a wheel bent to the hills. The swift-noiseless fury of the desert—the sandstorm—was upon them, and man and beast set their backs toward it, and braced thelr strength to withstand it. A minute more the stars and moon wers blotted out and the sand was pelting at thelr backs. The wind snatched at the bridle reins in Forester's hand and shook them violently; it pummeled his shoulders and swirled the heavy sand round and sound him i suffogating freaks It very horse solemn forled it against Bis bared head and dnto his eags. it gifted it down Lis - ’ deros, it pleyed ball with tire " which the horse’s tail was tied, it t at his saddle blanket, it grappled him by the waist and shook him in his sad dle; then with a last flerce wave and swirl eddied Into stiliness. Forester opened his smarting eyelids; the air was full of an Ilnfinitesimally fine dust; a pale sand-blurred moon was sinking into the level of the west. Hours behind time, hatless and hag- gard-faced, with a horse whose sweaty flanks had the look of sand-paper, he came slowly up to the little desert sta- tion. But'a toppling column of black smoke toward the east and a flat rumbling to the west told him that the trains also had been dslayed. “Ola Limpy,” sitting on the steps of the station platform, laughed at his dat- téred appearance, and swore at him for “riding a horse In an inch of its life.” Coming from the place that passed for a hotel, whom should he see dut “Doctor Jim,” walking rapidly to the station. He stopped in open-eyed sur- prise at sight of Forester. and held out his hand, which was not taken. “Van! what of her?” “Doctor Jim's” voice was husky with apprehension. “You shall answer that question, Jim Morgan, traitor, coward, that you arel” “What have you to say?™ The musale of Forester's pistol was not the breadth of a hand from Morgan's breast. He had never en “Doector Jim"” under fire. but he branded any man a traitor and coward who would steal his friend’s cattie. and it spplied to the love of a man's wife as well, “Doctor Jim’ face paled a little, but not a muscle of him quivered as he asked, “Is this a joke, Forester, or have you had a sunstroke?” “Hey, there! What's the row be- tween youw'ns?" The two wera pushed apart by a sinewy small man who had ridden up and dismounted unnaticed. “Aw! let 'em alone, ‘Cranberry bawled Limpy from whers he was rub- bing the sand off Forester's . horse; “there ain’t been any excitement In this camp for so long 't folks is' movin' ‘Blessed is the peacemakers,” said\ the small, sinewy man in a slow South- | ern drawl, as he intruded his body be- tween the other two. “Come am’ drink to yo' namesake, William- Henry Faw- stah Blair, named by yo' wife, cighteen hours ol' an’ doin’ fine. “What did you say?" demanded For- ester, weakly: he could not at once grasp the meaning of what he heard. “I sald come an‘ drink.to -yo' name- sake, an’ my 8on an' heir; an’ I reckon Miz Fawstah took the fastest ride she evah did take when we lit out from yo house yist-day mawnin’. She wanted to wait an’ write a note foh you. but I said thah was no time foh the dictatin o' lettahs. An' I Wwant to say. Faw- stah, ‘t thet ole woman o' yo'n is plum pluck! She jest said. ‘You ride ahead, Mr. Blaih, an’ I'll keep up with you. An" dang my hide ef she didn't! ‘When the west-bound overland was getting into motion, Dr. James Morgan stood on the steps of the rearmost plat- form. Forester hesitatingly reached up his hand; “I made a fool of myselt, ‘Doctor Jim'." Morgan hesitatingly took the upreached hand: a queer re- flexive smile was on his lips. “No, For. ’ ester, It was I that made the fool of myselt.”