_THE MISTRESS OF THE PEAK_
During the long months of solitude I let my gaze travel frequently
toward the southern mountains and Yulada. Like the image of sardonic
destiny, she still stood afar on the peak, aloof and imperturbable,
beckoning and unexplained as always.... And again she drew me toward
her with that inexplicable fascination which had been my undoing. As
when I had first seen her from that other valley to the south, I felt
a curious desire to mount to her, to stand at her feet, to inspect her
closely and lay my hands upon her; and against that desire neither
Yasma's warnings nor my own reason had any power. She was for me the
unknown; she represented the mysterious, the alluring, the unattained,
and all that was most youthful and alive within me responded to her
call.
Yet Yulada was a discreet divinity, and did not offer herself too
readily to the worshipper. Was it that she kept herself deliberately
guarded, careful not to encourage the intruder? So I almost thought as
I made attempt after attempt to reach her. It is true, of course, that
I did not choose the most favorable season; likewise, it is true that I
was exceedingly reckless, for solitary mountain climbing in winter is
hardly a sport for the cautious. But, even so, I could not stamp out
the suspicion that more than natural agencies were retarding me.
My first attempt occurred but a week after Yasma's departure. Most
of the recent snow had melted from the mountain slopes, and the
temperature was so mild that I foresaw no exceptional difficulties. I
had just a qualm, I must admit, about breaking my word to Yasma--but
had the promise not been extorted by unfair pleas? So, at least, I
reasoned; and, having equipped myself with my goatskin coat, with a
revolver and matches, and with food enough to last overnight if need
be, I set out early one morning along one of the trails I had followed
with Karem.
For two hours I advanced rapidly enough, reaching the valley's end and
mounting along a winding path amid pine woods. The air was brisk and
invigorating, the sky blue and clear; scarcely a breeze stirred, and
scarcely a cloud drifted above. From time to time, through rifts in the
foliage, I could catch glimpses of my goal, that gigantic steel-gray
womanly form with hands everlastingly pointed toward the clouds and
the stars. She seemed never to draw nearer, though my feet did not lag
in the effort to reach her; but the day was still young, and I was
confident that long before sunset I should meet her face to face.
Then suddenly my difficulties began. The trail became stonier and
steeper, though that did not surprise me; the trail became narrower
and occasionally blocked with snow, though that did not surprise me
either; great boulders loomed in my way, and sometimes I had to crawl
at the brink of a ravine, though that again I had expected. But the
real obstacle was not anticipated. Turning a bend in the wooded trail,
I was confronted with a sheer wall of rock, a granite mass broken at
one end by a sort of natural stairway over which it seemed possible
to climb precariously. I remembered how Karem and I had helped one
another up this very ascent, which was by no means the most difficult
on the mountain; but in the past month or two its aspect had changed
alarmingly. A coating of something white and glistening covered the
rock; in places the frosty crystals had the look of a frozen waterfall,
and in places the icicles pointed downward in long shaggy rows.
Would it be possible to pass? I could not tell, but did not hesitate to
try; and before long I had an answer. I had mounted only a few yards
when my feet gave way, and I went sprawling backward down the rocky
stair. How near I was to destruction I did not know; the first thing I
realized was that I was clinging to the overhanging branch of a tree,
while beneath me gaped an abyss that seemed bottomless.
A much frightened but a soberer man, I pulled myself into the tree, and
climbed back to safety. As I regained the ground, I had a glimpse of
Yulada standing silently far above, with a thin wisp of vapor across
her face, as if to conceal the grim smile that may have played there.
But I had seen enough of her for one day, and slowly and thoughtfully
took my way back to the valley.
From that time forth, and during most of the winter, I had little
opportunity for further assaults upon Yulada. If that thin coat of
November ice had been enough to defeat me, what of the more stubborn
ice of December and the deep drifts of January snow? Even had there not
been prospects of freezing to death among the bare, wind-beaten crags,
I should not have dared to entrust myself to the trails for fear of
wolf-packs. Yet all winter Yulada stared impassively above, a mockery
and a temptation--the only thing in human form that greeted me during
those interminable months!
I shall pass over the eternities between my first attempt upon Yulada
in November and my more resolute efforts in March. But I must not
forget to describe my physical changes. I had grown a bushy brown
beard, which hid my chin and upper lip and spread raggedly over my
face; my hair hung as long and untended as a wild man's; while from
unceasing exertions in the open, my limbs had developed a strength they
had never known before, and I could perform tasks that would have
seemed impossible a few months earlier.
Hence it was with confidence that I awaited the spring. Daily I scanned
the mountains after the first sign of a thaw in the streams; I noted
how streaks and furrows gradually appeared in the white of the higher
slopes; how the gray rocky flanks began to protrude, first almost
imperceptibly, then more boldly, as though casting off an unwelcome
garb, until great mottled patches stood unbared to the sunlight. Toward
the middle of March there came a week of unseasonably warm days, when
the sun shone from a cloudless sky and a new softness was in the air.
And then, when half the winter apparel of the peaks was disappearing
as at a magic touch and the streams ran full to the brim and the lake
overflowed, I decided to pay my long-postponed visit to Yulada.
Almost exultantly I set forth early one morning. The first stages of
the climb could hardly have been easier; it was as though nature had
prepared the way. The air was clear and stimulating, yet not too cool;
and the comparative warmth had melted the last ice from the lower
rocks. Exhilarated by the exercise, I mounted rapidly over slopes
that would once have been a formidable barrier. Still Yulada loomed
afar, with firm impassive face as always; but I no longer feared her,
for surely, I thought, I should this day touch her with my own hands!
As I strode up and up in the sunlight, I smiled to remember my old
superstitions--what was Yulada after all but a rock, curiously shaped
perhaps, but no more terrifying than any other rock!
Even when I had passed the timber-line, and strode around the
blue-white glaciers at the brink of bare ravines, I still felt an
unwonted bravado. Yulada was drawing nearer, noticeably nearer, her
features clear-cut on the peak--and how could she resist my coming?
In my self-confidence, I almost laughed aloud, almost laughed out a
challenge to that mysterious figure, for certainly the few intervening
miles could not halt me!
So, at least, I thought. But Yulada, if she were capable of thinking,
must have held otherwise. Even had she been endowed with reason and
with omnipotence, she could hardly have made a more terrible answer to
my challenge. I was still plodding up the long, steep grades, still
congratulating myself upon approaching success, when I began to notice
a change in the atmosphere. It was not only that the air was growing
sharper and colder, for that I had expected; it was that a wind was
rising from the northwest, blowing over me with a wintry violence. In
alarm, I glanced back--a stone-gray mass of clouds was sweeping over
the northern mountains, already casting a shadow across the valley, and
threatening to enwrap the entire heavens.
Too well I recognized the signs--only too well! With panicky speed,
more than once risking a perilous fall, I plunged back over the path
I had so joyously followed. The wind rose till it blew with an almost
cyclonic fury; the clouds swarmed above me, angry and ragged-edged;
Yulada was forgotten amid my dread visions of groping through a
blizzard. Yet once, as I reached a turn in the trail, I caught a
glimpse of her standing far above, her lower limbs overshadowed by the
mists, her head obscured as though thus to mock my temerity.
And what if I did finally return to my cabin safely? Before I had
regained the valley, the snow was whirling about me on the arms of the
high wind, and the whitened earth, the chill air and the screeching
gale had combined to accentuate my sense of defeat.
It might be thought that I would now renounce the quest. But there is
in my nature some stubbornness that only feeds on opposition; and far
from giving up, I watched impatiently till the storm subsided and the
skies were washed blue once more; till the warmer days came and the new
deposits of snow thawed on the mountain slopes. Two weeks after being
routed by the elements, I was again on the trail to Yulada.
The sky was once more clear and calm; a touch of spring was in the air,
and the sun was warmer than in months. Determined that no ordinary
obstacle should balk me, I trudged with scarcely a pause along the
winding trail; and, before many hours, I had mounted above the last
fringe of the pines and deodars. At last I reached the point where
I had had to turn back two weeks ago; at last I found myself nearer
to the peak than ever before on all my solitary rambles, and saw the
path leading ahead over bare slopes and around distorted crags toward
the great steel-gray figure. The sweetness of triumph began to flood
through my mind as I saw Yulada take on monstrous proportions, the
proportions of a fair-sized hill; I was exultant as I glanced at the
sky, and observed it to be still serene. There remained one more
elevated saddle to be crossed, then an abrupt but not impossible grade
of a few hundred yards--probably no more than half an hour's exertion,
and Yulada and I should stand together on the peak!
But again the unexpected was to intervene. If I had assumed that no
agency earthly or divine could now keep me from my goal, I had reckoned
without my human frailties. It was a little thing that betrayed me,
and yet a thing that seemed great enough. I had mounted the rocky
saddle and was starting on a short descent before the final lap, when
enthusiasm made me careless. Suddenly I felt myself slipping!
Fortunately, the fall was not a severe one; after sliding for a few
yards over the stones, I was stopped with a jolt by a protruding rock.
Somewhat dazed, I started to arise ... when a sharp pain in my left
ankle filled me with alarm. What if a tendon had been sprained? Among
these lonely altitudes, that might be a calamity! But when I attempted
to walk, I found my injury not quite so bad as I had feared. The ankle
caused me much pain, yet was not wholly useless; so that I diagnosed
the trouble as a simple strain rather than a sprain.
But there could be no further question of reaching Yulada that day.
With a bitter glance at the disdainful, indomitable mistress of the
peak, I started on my way back to Sobul. And I was exceedingly lucky to
get back at all, for my ankle distressed me more and more as I plodded
downward, and there were moments when it seemed as if it would not bear
me another step.
So slowly did I move that I had to make camp that evening on the
bare slopes at the edge of the forest; and it was not until late the
following day that I re-entered the village. And all during the return
trip, when I lay tossing in the glow of the campfire, or when I clung
to the wall-like ledges in hazardous descents, I was obsessed by
strange thoughts; and in my dreams that night I saw a huge taunting
face, singularly like Yulada's, which mocked me that I should match my
might against the mountain's.