THE GREAT DIVIDE
The moon appeared at last and suddenly all the desert lay before them
like molten silver. They rose, stiffly, and Charley helped Roger to
replace the little pack on Peter. Roger led, Peter followed and Charley
brought up in the rear. For hours, they toiled slowly up into the range,
flashing their "bugs" into the shadows, stopping now and again to go
over rock heap or cactus clump carefully, then on again, neither of them
speaking, even to Peter, except to call at irregular intervals Felicia's
name.
Dawn found them high in the range, in a little canyon, sweet with a tiny
spring about which grew mesquite and bear grass. The black ashes of old
fires were there, but nothing else. Roger broke the silence of hours:
"We're both going to get a sleep here, then I'm going to take you home.
We're way out of the reach of gun sound. They might have found her, you
know."
They stood staring about them for a moment and listening. The
unutterable silence of the desert was about them. Roger, eyes bloodshot,
face unshaven, lips cracked, turned to Charley whose great eyes were
sunk in her head, her lip colorless and drawn.
"Come," he said. "I'll cook the bacon and you unpack the rest of the
grub. We simply haven't strength to get home without rest and food."
Charley had the remainder of the food ready for Roger when the bacon was
cooked. They ate in silence, then Charley lay down on the pack blanket
while Roger stretched out in a drift of sand beyond the spring. In utter
weariness they both slept, unmindful of danger from snakes or vermin.
It was mid-morning when Roger woke. He sat up with a start and a sudden
clear picture in his eyes of a spot in the desert where he had not
searched. About a mile from the ranch and perhaps an eighth of a mile
west of the trail at the base of the range was a little stone monument.
Roger had observed it but it was too small to shelter even Felicia's
small frame in its shadows, so he had not troubled to make a close
observation of the flat desert round about it. The picture which had
awakened him was an extraordinarily vivid one of this monument. He
resolved to examine it thoroughly on his way home.
Roger rose stiffly. Charley was lying on her face, her head pillowed on
her arm. He moved over and touched her on the shoulder.
"Sorry, Charley," he said, "but we'd better start back."
The girl sat up, slowly. "I wasn't asleep," she said. "I've just been
napping off and on. I can't sleep until I know."
"Perhaps we'll find her safe at home," Roger even managed a smile with
his broken lips.
"Let's not stop to eat again!" exclaimed Charley.
Roger nodded. They reloaded Peter who was well gorged on spring water
and the uncertain looking herbage that grew about its brim.
The trail back was nearly all downward and they had covered it by noon.
Roger told Charley of his strange awakening dream of which he made
light, but when they sighted the little monument in the distance, they
both hurried toward it.
It was there that they found Felicia. On the west side of the monument
the prospector had begun a hole and left it. It was not over a foot in
depth nor over three feet square. Too small to show in the vast levels
of the desert until one was upon it and protected from view from the
mountain because of the monument, tiny as it was, it was not too small
to hold her little body, huddled face downward, arms and legs cramped.
Roger lifted her out and Charley, without a word, fainted. Roger groaned
and covered his eyes for a moment, then he took the pack blanket and
rolled the little body in it and left it while he turned to Charley. A
part of the canteen of water poured gently over her face revived her. As
soon as Roger saw that she was looking at him intelligently he said,
sternly:
"Charley, you've got to brace up until we can get home. You must help me
get you and her back by keeping as much of a grip on yourself as you
can. Remember this is desert noon and we can't temporize. You mount
Peter. We'll leave the pack here. I'll carry Felicia."
He took the shot gun from the pack and fired three shots into the air,
followed by two more; the code that Ernest had suggested after the first
night's hunt had led them to fear the worst. Then he lifted the little
blanketed form across his breast and slowly led the way back to the
ranch. He could not weep. He could not curse. He could only hope,
blindly, that the volcano within him would not burst forth until his
work was done.
Ernest met him a short distance from the ranch house, and took the
little body from his arms, without a word. Roger turned back to Charley.
"I'm not coming up to the house just now," he said gruffly. "I'm afraid
to see Dick."
Elsa, hurrying up to help her friend, tears streaming down her tired,
pretty face, heard this:
"Don't try to see him, Rog, but you're not fit to go down to the camp
yet. Lie down on the cot on the porch for a little while first."
Roger who was dizzy and staggering caught Gustav's arm. The good fellow
had come panting up, uncertain what to say or do to show his sympathy
and pain.
"Just for a few minutes then," panted Roger; "I don't want to see Dick
for I'd kill him."
"No--don't vorry. I von't let you," said Gustav. "Come, lieber freund,
take the steps mit slowness."
Roger dropped on the couch and Elsa and Charley went into the living
room. Suddenly Dick shouted:
"Snake bite! On the ankle there! O God Almighty!"
Roger jumped to his feet and ran to the living-room door. Dick on an
improvised crutch was staring down at the little form on the cot. Roger
lunged for him with an oath, but Gustav caught Roger round the waist,
and Charley, who had been sitting weakly in one of the camp chairs, her
face bowed on the table, sprang forward, her eyes blazing.
"Don't you dare bring your hellish temper into this room of death, Roger
Moore!" she said. "Supposing Felicia had seen you in one of your temper
frenzies, mightn't she have run away from you just as she did from
Dick?"
Roger stood as if paralyzed. Charley turned to Dick. "Fratricide!" she
sobbed. "Murderer!" Then her voice rose hysterically. "Oh, why did I
risk that little child to your weakness? Why? I killed her by it! I
killed her!"
Elsa ran to put her arm about Charley. "Come, dear, come into the
bedroom and let me talk to you."
Roger stood motionless for a moment, staring at the bedroom door which
was closed in his face. Dick dropped into a chair with eyes closed,
sweat pouring down his forehead and chin. Gustav gave Roger a tug and
Roger allowed himself to be led back to the cot.
Here he lay for a few moments glaring up at Gustav who perched himself
watchfully on the cot edge. Then he said hoarsely: "Is that true,
Gustav, what Charley said about me?"
Gustav's honest face worked and his lips trembled. "Vell, you haf a bad
temper, and she was a frightened little thing like a rabbit at a cross
word."
Roger groaned and closed his eyes. He lay for a long time so silent that
Gustav was sure he was asleep. The house within was very silent. Elsa
came out onto the porch and spoke to Gustav, softly and Roger opened his
eyes.
"It's all right, Gustav, old man," he said gently. "I won't touch Dick.
Go on and do what Elsa wants and as soon as I've rested a bit, I'll help
you."
"You'll feel better if you have some food, Roger." Elsa came round to
the side of the cot where Roger could see her. She was carrying a bowl
of milk and a plate of bread, which she placed silently on a chair
beside him, then she and Gustav disappeared toward the tool house where
Ernest already had gone.
Roger did feel better after he had cleaned the two dishes and he dozed a
little.
He was roused by the sound of sawing and hammering from the tool house.
A moment after Charley flew out the door and down the trail to the door
of the little adobe shack.
"What are you all doing?" Roger heard her ask in a voice totally unlike
her own, so shrill it was, and broken.
"Don't come in, Charley," cried Elsa. "Roger, come here."
Roger already was hurrying down the trail.
"You must take Charley down to the Plant and keep her there for awhile,"
Elsa said firmly, as Roger came up. "We'll tend to things here--she's
reached her limit."
"Wait till I get Peter," replied Roger. He was back shortly with the
little burro and Charley's broad hat. When the trembling girl mounted he
walked beside her with a steadying arm over her shoulders. Her
helplessness suddenly made her seem very like Felicia to him.
"We'll go right to the living tent," he said, quietly, "and you must try
to rest while I get some supper."
"No! No! Don't leave me. I'm not hungry. I can't rest! I killed her,
Roger, I killed her!"
"Nonsense! Booze killed her. Come, Charley, dismount, poor girl, and
we'll turn old Peter loose," as they reached the camp.
Charley dismounted, then stood staring levelly into Roger's eyes. "I let
my love for Dick kill her. I hate him now. Oh, how I hate him!"
"Don't talk about that," exclaimed Roger. "Charley, let's go into the
living tent out of the sun."
They sat down side by side on one of the trunks. Roger had a vague
notion that Charley would find relief if she could weep. But he had no
notion of how to make her do so. He took one of her feverish, trembling
hands in his and began talking at random.
"You are so like Felicia. You two always were getting confused in my
mind and right now it's worse than ever. She loved me as much as I loved
her. And now you'll have to try to be fond of me too, for her sake,
Charley, and overlook my failings. You didn't kill her, my dear. She
might have been bitten anywhere and at any time. Try to think of that.
Why, you took wonderful care of her. Such care as never was on sea nor
land, she used to say to me."
Felicia's familiar little phrase was too much for Charley. Suddenly she
ran over to one of the cots and dropping there burst into tears. Then
Roger, wiping the sweat from his face, left her while he went out to
boil the tea kettle. When he returned in about half an hour, he was able
to persuade Charley to drink a cup of strong tea and eat a cracker. The
sun had set by the time she had finished, and she asked him to walk with
her up and down the sand before the door.
How many hours he paced up and down in the hot darkness with Charley
clinging to his arm, he could not tell. She did not cry again. Her
agony of mind, like Roger's, was too deep for tears. She could only
wring her hands and stumble back and forth like a hunted thing.
It was Roger's first experience in trying to assuage the grief of any
one else. He discovered resources within himself of which he never
before had dreamed.
"We were all to blame, Charley," he insisted again and again.
"No, the fault was mine! Oh, little, lovely Felicia! Roger, you must
know that though I wouldn't let you strike Dick, I hate him! I hate
him!"
"Good God, Charley! Let's not bring Dick in, to-night. We have our own
private hell as he has his. Do you know that I'm realizing that what you
said is right? That if Felicia had seen me again in one of my temper
fits, it might have driven her away, just as this did. I'll never lose
control of my temper again, Charley."
She did not answer except to groan. After a time, Roger said, "I'm
thinking about Dick's wound. If it isn't attended to, soon, gangrene may
set in. You and I had better drive him into town to-morrow."
"We'll not. He deserves to lose his leg!"
"Perhaps he does. But we aren't the ones to say so. Come into the tent,
Charley, you are staggering and so am I."
Once more he led her into the tent where he lighted a "bug" and once
more they sat down side by side on the trunk. Suddenly Roger put his arm
about the girl and pulled her close against him, saying brokenly:
"Oh, Charley! Charley! You are so like her! Lean against me, dear, as
she would, and we'll try to weather this together." And Charley, with a
tremulous sigh, laid her soft cheek against his rough, unshaven one.
They sat there until the tent was filled with the lovely gray of the
filtered moonlight. Then Roger persuaded Charley to lie down. But when
she had done so she clung to his hand.
"Stay with me, just a little bit longer," she whispered. Roger seated
himself on the floor, clasping her hand closely. It was not long before
Charley, still clinging to his hand, drifted off into uneasy slumber.
Roger then leaned his tired head against the pillow and cramped as he
was in his sitting posture, he dropped into a profound sleep.
Thus Gustav found them at dawn. His face was tear-stained but he smiled
a little with a look that was full of pity and understanding. He tried
to tiptoe out without a sound but a board creaked and Charley sat up,
stared at him, then exclaimed:
"I must go up and dress her."
Roger clambered to his feet. Gustav came over to the cot and took
Charley's hand in both his own.
"Miss Elsa haf dressed her, in the leedle vite dress and sash. And den,
Miss Charley, you know how in so few hours Gott changes the bodies ve
love so ve can't vish to haf them longer--so ve lay the little sister up
on the mountain side last night, ven the moon came."
Charley sat staring at him with horror in her eyes, then when he had
ceased speaking, she lay back and closed her eyes and the two men left
her.
Later in the day, it was decided that Gustav must drive Dick, who was in
great pain, into Archer's Springs to the doctor. Charley absolutely
refused to see Dick or to offer any suggestions.
Just as the wagon with Dick perching on the cot at the bottom was ready
to start for the camp Ernest called:
"Oh, Gustav, be sure to find out about the Smithsonian's visitor and
wire to Washington the reason for our failure to meet him."
Roger, who was standing in the living tent, caught his breath. Through
his grief for Felicia merged realization that his great opportunity had
come and gone. For the first time in three days he turned to the engine
house.