THE FLAG OF TRUCE
Earliest dawn found the young man seated composedly upon one of the
flattened outcroppings of the bill of stone that lay like an island
between the outer plain and the sheltered cove. As yet, there was no
sign of life within the cove--both the dugout and the cabin of cedar
logs were as silent and as void of movement as the rocks behind them.
The young man watched first one, then the other, as tireless and
vigilant as if he had not been awake for twenty-four hours.
It was the dugout that first started from its night's repose. Before
the sun showed itself over the rim of the prairie, long before its rays
darted over the distant mountain-crest, the door was thrown away from
the casing, and a great uncouth man, strong as a giant, and wild of
aspect as a savage, strode forth, gun in hand, his eyes sweeping the
landscape in quick flashing glances. Almost instantly he discovered
the figure perched on the granite block overlooking his retreat. He
raised his gun to his shoulder.
The young man fell sidewise behind the rocks and a bullet clipped the
edge of his barricade. Remaining supine, he fastened his handkerchief
to the end of his whip and waved it above the rampart. Having thus
manifested his peaceful intent, he rose, still holding the flag of
truce above his head, and remained motionless. Brick Willock stared at
him for a moment in hostile indecision, then strode forward. At the
same time, an old man, thin, tall and white-haired, issued from the
dugout evidently attracted by the gunshot; and soon after, the cabin
door opened, and the girl of the cove looked out inquiringly.
In the meantime the young man slowly descended the hill to the oval
valley, while Willock hurried forward to meet him.
"Don't you come no futher!" Willock commanded, threatening with his
gun. "Keep your hands above your head until I can ship your cargo."
Obediently he stood while the great whiskered fellow took the weapons
from his belt, and dived into his hip pockets.
"That'll do. Now--what do you want?"
"It's hard to put it into a few words," the other complained. "I'd
like to have a little talk with you."
"You are one of them fellows that come here to run us out of the
country, ain't you? I don't remember seeing you, but I guess you
belong to the bunch over on Red River. Well, you see we're still here,
meaning to stay. Are your pards outside there, waiting for a message?"
"Nobody knows I'm here, or thought of coming. Let me put that affair
in its true light. The boys are all under our boss, and when he lays
down the law it isn't for us to argue with him--we carry out orders--"
"Unless there's a Brick Willock involved in them orders," returned the
man, with a grim smile.
"But it's our duty to TRY to carry out the orders, whether we like 'em
or not. So you won't hold that against me--that little scrimmage of
last month, especially as you came out best man."
"I used to have a boss, myself," Willock spoke uncompromisingly. "But
when he give me certain orders, one particular night that I recollect,
I knocked him on the head and put out for other parts. You must of
thought yourself in PRETTY business coming over here to take away the
land and all on it, that's belonged to me for nine years, and nobody
never having tried to prize me out of it except some trifling Injuns
and horse-thieves. Ain't they NO honesty in the world? Hasn't no man
his property rights? I guess your boss knowed this wasn't HIS land,
didn't he? What's going to become of this country when man isn't
satisfied with what is his'n? Well, now you've had a little talk with
me, and hoping you've enjoyed it, you can just mosey along. I'll send
your weapons after you by a messenger."
The young man cast a despairing glance toward the girl who stood like a
statue in her doorway, gravely listening. The man with the bushy white
hair had drawn near, but evidently with no thought of interfering.
"Willock," the voice came so eager, so impetuous, that the words were
somewhat incoherent, "I've GOT to talk to your daughter--hold on, don't
shoot, LISTEN!--that's what I've come for, to see her and--and meet her
and hear her voice. I can't help it, can I? It's been two long years
since I left home, back East, and in all these two years I've never
seen anything like your little girl and--and what harm can it do? I
say! Have pity on a fellow, and do him the biggest favor he could
enjoy on this earth when it won't cost you a penny, or a turn of your
hand. Look here--hold on, don't turn away! I'm just so lonesome, so
homesick, so dead KILLED by all these sand-hills and alkali beds and
nothing to talk to from one year's end to the next but men and
cattle...."
Willock glared at him in silence, fingering the trigger thoughtfully.
"There I've sat, on that hill," he continued, "since two o'clock last
night, waiting for daylight so I could ask you to help a miserable
wretch that's just starving to death for the sound of a girl's voice,
and the sight of a girl's smile. Isn't this square, waiting for you,
and telling you the whole truth? I never saw her but once, and that
was from this same hill. She didn't know I was watching; it was
yesterday. Maybe all I'm saying sounds just crazy to you, and I reckon
I am out of my senses, but until I saw her I didn't know how heart-sick
I was of the whole business."
"It IS kinder lonesome," remarked the other gruffly. He lowered his
gun and leaned on it, irresolutely. "You've sure touched me in the
right spot, son, for I knows all you mean and more that you ain't even
ever dreampt of. But you see, we don't know nothing about your name,
your character, if you've got one, nor what you really intends. I like
your looks and the way you talk, fine, just fine, but I've saw bobcats
that was mighty sleek and handsome when they didn't know I was nigh."
"My name in Wilfred Compton. I--I have a letter or two in my pocket
that I got a long time ago; they'd tell something about me but I'd
rather not show 'em, as they're private--"
"From your gal, I reckon?" asked Willock more mildly.
"Yes," he answered gloomily.
"Carried 'em as long as a year?"
"Nearly two years."
"Mean to still lug 'em around?"
"Of course I'm going to keep 'em."
"Well, I don't deny THAT'S pretty favorable. Now look here, son, I've
been half-crazy from lonesomeness, and I don't believe I've got the
heart to send you away. That gal of ours--she's just a kid, you
understand.... Now you wouldn't be taking up no idea that she was what
you'd classify as a young lady, or anything like that, eh?"
"Of course not--she's fifteen or sixteen, I should think. Upon my
honor, Willock, any thought of sentiment or romance is a thousand miles
from my mind."
"Yes, just so. But such thoughts travels powerful fast; don't take 'em
long to lap over a thousand mile."
"But it's because she IS a young girl, fresh and unartificial as the
mountain breezes, that I want to be with her for a little while--yes,
get to know her, if I may."
Willock turned to the taciturn old man standing a little behind him.
"Bill Atkins, what do you say?"
"I say, fire him and do it quick!" was the instant rejoinder,
accompanied by threatening twitchings of the huge white mustache.
Willock was not convinced. "Son, if you sets here till we have had our
breakfast, and has held a caucus over you, I'll bring you the verdict
in about an hour. If you don't like that, they's nothing to do but put
out for your ranch."
"I go on duty at seven," replied the young man composedly, "but I have
a friend riding the line that'll stay with it till I come. So I'll
wait for your caucus."
"That friend--one of them devils I shot at the other day?"
Wilfred Compton smiled with sudden sunniness. "Yes."
Somewhere beneath the immense whiskers, an answering smile slipped like
a breeze, stirring the iron-gray hair. "I kinder believe in you, son!
Nobody can't gainsay that you've played the man in this matter. Now,
just one thing more. You must swear here before me, with Bill Atkins
for an unwilling witness, that should we let you make the acquaintance
of our little gal, and should you get to be friends, you two, that the
very fust minute it comes to you that she ain't no little gal, but is
in the way of being food for love--Bill Atkins, air I making myself
plain?"
"You ain't," returned the old man sourly. "You're too complicated for
ordinary use."
"Then YOU tell him what I mean."
The old man glared at Wilfred fiercely. "If we decide to grant your
request, young man, swear on your honor that the second you find
yourself thinking of our little girl as a WOMAN, to be wooed and won,
you'll put out, and never stop till you're so far away, you'll be clear
out of her world. And not one word to her, not so much as one hint,
mind you, as to the reason of your going; it'll just be good-by and
farewell!"
"You see," Willock interpolated, "she is nothing a little gal, and we
don't want no foolish ideas to the contrary. You takes her for what
she is, nothing took from nor added to. In course, she'll be growed up
some day, I reckon, though may the good Lord take a good long time
finishing up the work He's begun so noble. When she's growed up, when
she's a woman, it ain't for us to say how you come and how you go, take
from or add to. But while she's a kid, it is different, according."
"You have my word of honor to all these conditions," Wilfred cried
lightly. "As a child of the mountains I ask for her acquaintance. If I
should ever feel differently about her, I'll go away and stay away
until she's a woman. Surely that's enough to promise!"
"There ain't too much to promise, when it comes to the peace and
happiness of our little girl," retorted the old man, "but I can't think
of any more for you to take oath to."
"Me nuther, Bill," agreed Willock. "Seems to me the young man is bound
as firm as humans can do the binding. Now you sit right here, son,
don't come a step nigher the house, and we'll go to breakfast; and
later you'll know whether or not all this promising has been idle waste
of time."
"But I can see how it'll turn out," growled Atkins, "for she is always
a-looking for something new, something out of the big world that she
don't know nothing about."
"Never mind, Bill, don't give up so quick," Willock reproached him, as
they turned away. "She's been having a good look at him all this time,
and it may be she have took a distaste to him already."