AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE
I had never been left entirely without human companionship before,
not even for a night, and I soon began to wonder at the amount of
loneliness that can be compressed into a few hours. Before the
afternoon was half spent I was mentally reviewing the history of
Robinson Crusoe, and was feeling an intense sympathy for that
resourceful castaway.
I lingered over my evening tasks, and, sooner than seemed possible,
dusk came and night was at hand, so at last I reluctantly closed and
made fast the kitchen door. Reluctantly, for to-night, this common and
necessary precaution seemed, somehow, to cut me adrift from all chance
of human aid, and by this time my mind was running on wild tales of
bandits, of lonely camps, and the far sweep of the cattle ranges
where, in darkened hollow or at the foot of shadowy buttes, great
gray wolves lay in wait for their midnight prey, indifferent as to
whether the prey consisted of cattle or cattleman.
Still, I am sure that I was not really cowardly; it was only the
unusual situation that set me thinking of these things. Father's light
rifle hung in its accustomed place over the kitchen fireplace, and, as
a last precaution, I took it down, and, after ascertaining that it was
properly loaded, put it near the head of the bed, within reach of my
hand. To be expert with firearms is almost a matter of course for
girls on Western ranches, and I was an unusually good marksman. As it
would, to my fancy, but intensify the emptiness and loneliness of the
house if I were to light a lamp, I decided to go straight to bed
without a light, and, if possible, forget my troubles in sleep. But I
had hardly reached this sensible conclusion when I became convinced
that I was thirsty. It is not in the least probable that I should have
even thought of needing a drink if it had not suddenly occurred to me
that there was no water in the house. I had used it all, and had
neglected to fill the pail again. There is no surer provocative of
thirst than the knowledge that there is no water to be had, and, as I
thought the matter over, my lips grew dry and my throat parched. It
was unendurable. In desperation I slipped on the shoes that I had just
taken off, and, taking the empty pail from the kitchen sink, unlocked
the door and made a hurried trip to the spring, a few rods west of the
house.
Returning with a brimming pailful, and disdaining to acknowledge, even
to myself, that my knees were shaking, I set the pail on a chair by
the bed-room window. I was determined to have water close at hand, in
case my thirst became torturing during the night. The cat was mewing
plaintively on the kitchen doorstep. I re-opened the door and let her
in, then re-locked the door and, disrobing, crept quickly into bed.
Curled down snugly under the blankets I was almost dozing when a
sudden recollection caused me to laugh softly to myself, there in the
darkness. In spite of my terrible thirst I had entirely forgotten to
take a drink after the water was at hand. "I'll get up after a while
if I find that I can't get along without it," I told myself, sleepily,
and with the sense of amusement still upon me, I was far away into
dreamland.
I suppose that very few people have escaped the unpleasant, breathless
sensation of awakening suddenly and completely under the spell of some
unknown challenge, a warning of some impending danger passed by the
alert mind to the slumbering senses of the body. I had slept far into
the night when I awoke, seemingly without cause, to find myself
sitting upright in bed, listening intently. For a moment I heard
nothing but the soft padded foot-fall of the cat as, stealing from her
place on the foot of the bed, she moved restlessly about the room. "It
must have been her springing off the bed that awoke me," I thought,
nestling back into the pillows again. I closed my eyes, but opened
them quickly as a soft rustling outside of, and almost directly
underneath the bed-room window, came to my ears.
The window-shade was pulled down, but it was hung several inches below
the top of the window, which had been left open for ventilation.
Through this uncurtained space the moonlight streamed into the room;
by its light I saw the cat retreating into a corner farthest from the
window, her tail swelled out like that of a fox, her hair bristling,
and her yellow eyes glaring vindictively. She disliked strangers, and
commonly resented their presence in just this manner. I wondered, as
my eyes followed the cat's movements with growing apprehension, if
she would act this way because of the vicinity of any large prowling
animal. I was sure now, as I crouched tremblingly under the blankets,
that the increasing noise that I heard was not made by any harmless
midnight prowler. If it had been, the cat, being a great hunter, would
have shown an eager desire to get outside the window, instead of away
from it. Accustomed to the knowledge that there were wild animals in
plenty up on the mountain slopes and in the encircling forests above
us, and having abundant reason to know that they often made stealthy
visits to the valley settlements at night, I soon reasoned myself into
quietude. Whatever the beast might be, I was in no personal danger;
the cows were safe in the high-walled corral, and the poultry-house
securely locked. Reassured, as I recalled these facts, I did not get
up to make any investigation as to the cause of the noise. "If it's a
bear, it isn't mine," I told myself, drowsily; "as Joe says, 'I ain'
los' no bear 'roun' yer.'"
I was half asleep again when a curious sensation, as of a bright light
playing over my closed eyelids caused me to open them suddenly. Then I
bounded out of bed, uttering a scream that might, I should think, have
been heard a mile. A broad sheet of yellow flame was streaming up
beside the house and over the uncurtained window space. Obeying an
impulse as irresponsible as the one that had caused that useless
scream, I seized the loaded rifle at my bedside, and sent a bullet
whistling and crashing through the window panes. The impression that
some prowling wild animal was about was probably still strong upon me,
and, in any case, the shot was not without effect. My shriek and the
report of the rifle rang out almost at the same instant. Following
them came a cry, a smothered oath, and the sound of running footsteps.
Throwing down the yet smoking gun, I ran to the window, tore down the
obstructing shade with one sweep of my impatient hand, and leaned
forward, scanning the hillside. The flames reached toward me greedily
through the opening that my bullet had made, but, although their hot
breath half blinded me, I saw a man running swiftly for the shelter of
the hillside pines. I glanced toward the rifle--I was a good shot,
then. "Thou shalt not kill," I said aloud, but it had occurred to me
also, that the gun was not loaded. An instant more and I was throwing
water on the fire from the pailful beside the window ledge. After all,
as I soon found, the bullet had done more apparent harm than the fire,
for the heap of inflammable rubbish underneath the window was quickly
drenched and the fire extinguished. To make all doubly secure,
however, I reloaded the gun and with that faithful friend in hand
brought water and poured over the rubbish until it ceased even to
smoke. The heap was composed of pine needles, pine cones, and resinous
pitch pine, and once fairly started would have set the house on fire,
past all saving, in a very short time. When the blackened pile was so
thoroughly drenched that I could poke around in the ashes with my bare
hands I gave up pouring water on it, went back into the house, locked
the door, tacked a heavy blanket up over the dismantled window, and,
shivering with cold and excitement, again crept into bed. As I lay
with my finger on the trigger of the rifle, with its muzzle trained on
the window, I was surer of nothing than that there was no more sleep
for me that night. But, soothed by the sensation of returning warmth,
and by the feeling of security that the touch of the rifle gave, I
closed my eyes--not to sleep, but the better to think. Sleep! I could
not sleep. Nevertheless--
The sunlight was pouring into the adjoining room when I again opened
my eyes. Night with its terrors was a thing of the past. I heard the
imprisoned cows lowing for their milk-maid and realized with a pang of
self-reproach that I had slept later than I ought. Sitting up in bed
I looked around, blinking sleepily. The light from the window was
effectually excluded by the thick blanket, and my slumber had been
so peaceful that I had scarcely stirred; my relaxed hand had merely
dropped away from the trigger of the rifle lying beside me. The cat
was in her old place at my feet, and I smiled to see her trying to
thrust an inquisitive paw into the muzzle of the gun. Finding the hole
too small for that purpose she wriggled around lazily until she had
brought an eye to bear on the cavity that she seemed to suspect might
contain a mouse. When I had dressed and gone outside I was filled with
wonder at the narrowness of the escape that the house had had. There
had been no rain for weeks; scarcely a drop, indeed, since the
dreadful accident that had left us fatherless--and everything was as
dry as tinder. Once started, a fire would have devastated the whole
valley. In the retrospect the danger that we had escaped seemed even
more terrifying than in the hurry and excitement of the fire itself.
And--how came that heap of combustible stuff under the window? Who was
that man whom I had seen running up the hillside as if pursued by the
furies?
The morning's chores done, I procured broom and rake and set about
clearing away the unsightly heap from under the window. I was
raking industriously, when my eye was suddenly attracted by a small
glittering object near the outer edge of the pile. Stooping, I picked
it up. It lay in the hollow of my hand, and I stood looking at it for
a long, long time. "All things come to him who waits." The origin of
the fire was no longer a mystery, but there were other things. We had
suffered nearly five years of petty, relentless persecution, and had
never, never by any chance, been able to produce any direct evidence
against our enemy. The wind sweeping through the pine boughs on the
hillside above had, to my fancy, the sound that a great fire makes; a
great fire that, rioting unchecked, leaves suffering and death in its
wake. "Much harm would have been done to others besides us if I had
not been here to put the fire out," I thought, gravely regarding the
thing in my hand. "Much harm; and the law punishes any one convicted
of setting a fire, here in the mountains in a dry time, very
severely." Then I went into the house to put the glittering trifle
safely out of sight.