A NORTHER
The two, man and girl, had traveled along with so little speed that
they were still several miles from home. They were now leaving the
woods and were about to ascend a hill, after having crossed a small
bayou. Along the border of the woodland, which they would soon skirt
for a short distance, the prairie opened before them, their trail
leading directly across it. In a sky which an hour before had been of
purest blue, great gusty clouds were gathering. At the top of the hill
a sudden puff of cool wind struck through the sultriness of the air.
Before they had reached the prairie a second cold blast made Alison
shiver.
“We’re going to get a norther,” said Neal. “We’d better be traveling,
little lady, or you will feel it. You are rather thinly dressed.”
“It was warm when I started,” said Alison with another shiver.
“It will be a cold ride across the prairie,” said Neal. “If there
were a house between here and home I’d leave you there and ride on
for something to wrap around you. Foolishly I left my blanket when I
started out to meet you, and that’s something a Texan ought never to
do, part from his blanket.”
“I should have had better sense myself than to have gone so far from
home with nothing for an emergency. I didn’t bring a blanket even for
Chico.”
“Well, all of us are foolish sometimes,” remarked Neal. “We’ll just
have to make the best of it and hurry on as fast as we can.”
The gale increased and the grass of the prairie bent in long waves like
those of the sea; they seemed to be riding between its rolling billows.
Rain began to descend and the cold steadily increased till Alison’s
teeth fairly chattered. Neal viewed her anxiously and tried to think
of some way to alleviate the situation. “There used to be a little
cabin somewhere in these woods,” he said. “I wonder if I could find it
without going much out of the way.”
“Pike Smith’s cabin, do you mean?”
“Yes, but what do you know about it?” asked Neal quickly.
Alison hesitated before she decided to make a clean breast of it. “If
you are going to undertake a search for Steve,” she began, “I may
as well tell you what I do know about it, for you will want all the
information you can get. I don’t feel any compunctions now.” And she
told him the story of her adventure with its consequences in giving
them a clue to the cause of Steve’s disappearance.
Neal listened with grave attention, making no comment for some moments
after she had finished what she had to tell. Then he said: “That was a
pretty close shave for you, Alison, and I can’t promise that I’ll keep
my hands off that man if I ever get within sight of him.”
Alison looked troubled, and gave a timid glance at Neal’s stern face so
different in expression from an hour before. Here was a man who could
be as relentless as he could be tender, and whose virile strength she
had scarcely realized in her association with him, for the softer side
had been that shown her. She had known him only as a good comrade, a
man full of merry humors, though often, under certain influences, of
gentle speech and delicate courtesy. She felt a sudden leaping of heart
as she acknowledged her appreciation of those knightly qualities which
permitted the existence of no dragon which might interfere with justice
and right. “Even if he should really kill the Blatant Beast,” said
Alison to herself, “I do not think I could blame him.” But she said
aloud: “You remember I told you that you must allow somebody else to do
any killing that may be necessary.”
Neal smiled grimly. “I’m making no rash promises. I shan’t play any
Injun tricks, but in a fair fight I am not saying what I’ll do. It
wouldn’t be in reason for me to play baby where Pike Smith might happen
to be. I think we’d better get out of the open, little lady, and see
what shelter we can find in the woods. You’re fair blue with cold, and
it makes me unhappy to see you that way while I haven’t even a big
neckerchief for you.” He turned off into the woods, Alison following,
and before long they had reached the hut which was so well remembered
by the girl. Now the place was deserted; no smoke came from its
chimney, no sound came from within. The door, sagging on its hinges,
was easily pushed open; as Neal set foot inside some wild creature
which had taken refuge there, dashed out and into the shelter of the
underbrush.
“What was it?” said Alison startled.
“It wasn’t a ha’nt,” said Neal; “nothin’ but a jack-rabbit. I thought
I wasn’t out of my calculations,” he went on. “I reckoned the place
was about here. Now, you go in out of the wind and I’ll have a fire
started in a jiffy.” The girl was stiff with cold and was glad to be
lifted from her horse. The forsaken cabin furnished a shelter, but that
was about all. A wooden bench was its sole furniture, though pinned on
the wall was a strange uncanny woodcut of some dead and gone saint who
seemed a fitting guardian of the retreat. Windowless, and with earthen
floor, gaping chinks between logs and a general air of cheerlessness,
the place was none too good for Chico and Neal’s horse, which were led
in and placed amicably side by side in a dark corner.
It was not long before Neal had hunted up some fire-wood and soon the
licking flames shot up the chimney, providing the warmth Alison felt
sorely in need of. Even this appearance of comfort did not add much
to the looks of the room, nor did the fire do much more than remove
the chill, for the wind howled through the crevices and swept keenly
through the door, which would not stay closed until Neal placed a heavy
log against it.
“Now,” said Neal, looking with satisfaction at the fire, “if we only
had a good cup of coffee and something sociable to eat, we could be as
comfortable as I would want to be.”
“I’m sure I am thankful enough for the fire,” said Alison, “but I think
I can wait till I get home for something to eat.”
“Many’s the time in the last two years I’d given a heap for a place
like this,” said Neal.
“You’ve slept on the ground with nothing but your saddle for a pillow,
and a blanket to cover you. I know all about it, for John has told me.
I am glad, very glad you will not have to do that any more.” She was
silent a moment, then she asked, “If you go searching for Steve, do
you think it will mean sleeping out nights and going through all those
hardships like a soldier has?”
[Illustration: “ALISON LEANED FORWARD AND HELD OUT HER HANDS TO THE
BLAZE.”]
“Don’t know, but if I do have that sort of thing, it won’t be any more
than I’m used to, and no more than those fellows you’re so fond of
had all the time.”
“That’s the truth,” returned Alison, but she gave a little sigh.
“Are you good and warm, little lady?” asked Neal.
“Oh, yes.” Alison from her seat on the bench before the fire, leaned
forward and held out her hands to the blaze.
Neal, who was squatting on the ground in the attitude affected by the
Texan in general, arose to his feet. “It seems to me the best plan
would be for me to leave you here for a little while and ride on to
the house for something to wrap around you. My horse is a pretty good
traveler, and will take me there in no time. Do you mind staying here
for an hour? I have been thinking it over and there doesn’t seem to
be any other way. No one is likely to come this way; the house is too
well hidden and it’s too far off the road to be seen by any passing
traveler. Shall you be afraid, little lady?”
“No, not if you can shut the door. I shall have Chico for company.”
“I’ll make the door fast on the outside, and you’d better not open it
to any one. I will knock three times when I come, and whistle ‘Hail
Columbia.’”
Alison laughed. Blythe would have selected a more sentimental tune, but
somehow she liked the idea of “Hail Columbia.” “I will listen for your
whistle and then I can peep out between the chinks to see that no one
else has stolen your tune.”
So Neal left her and she watched his departure from a crevice between
the logs. He dashed off in desperate haste and when the sound of the
rapid hoof-beats had died away she felt a great sense of loneliness.
But she drew the bench nearer the fire, and sat there, elbows on knees,
and chin resting on her hands. Very quietly she sat gazing into the
blazing fire and thinking, thinking, her early fancies driven from
her mind by later absorbing realities. Her world of dreams had been
invaded by a familiar figure which suddenly assumed the character of a
knight. It was hard to fit Neal Jordan to the pattern of Sir Artegall,
and yet--and yet---- He would not call her Lady Florimell, but it came
upon her as a great surprise that he answered in more particulars than
one to the description she had given to Blythe Van Dorn of the man
she could most admire. Like many another she had looked far afield
when her knight was near at hand. She reviewed her acquaintance with
him, remembered how content she had always been in his society, and
how ready he had always been to provide pleasures for her, to teach
her such things as it seemed well that she should know, had--why, she
had been blind; of course it was never Christine who had received his
first greeting, his last farewell; it was never she whom Neal had
deliberately chosen to ride with, to walk with, on such occasions as
there was a question of choice. “And I never discovered you at all, Sir
Artegall,” she said, nodding to the red castle falling to pieces in
the midst of the glowing embers. “Your Florimell had a spell put upon
her, and she did not know you were her knight.” She laughed softly and
Chico from his corner turned his head and gave a little whinney. “Oh,
yes, Chico,” she went on, “I am glad you appreciate the situation.
We were very foolish, but I shall not tell him so. Let him go on the
quest, and if he finds Steve then I shall feel that I have a right to
be happy without giving my dear Christine a pang by parading a joy
which she must be denied. I have faith in my knight and I believe he
will be successful. How delighted I shall be to hear of his adventures
and to know they were undertaken for my sake. Christine would call me
a romantic, silly thing to send him off in this way, so she shall not
know, and when he comes back she will be so glad that she will have
only praise for my romantic notion. Hark! what is that!”
There was a sound of the sharp crackle of sticks under an approaching
tread. Was it Neal returning so soon? Hardly, the girl decided. She
went to the front of the cabin and peered between the logs. A man was
limping towards the door. Alison tiptoed back to her place by the fire,
determined to make no response to any summons. Presently there came a
knock, then some one with lips close to the door said in a low voice:
“Mi madre, soy Carlos.”
Alison held her breath not daring to move towards the door, but afraid
not to do so. She was spared any decision, however, for a heavy
shoulder pushed it open sufficiently for a man to enter. He looked wild
and unkempt, and his face was distorted with pain. At sight of the girl
he made as if to leave the place, but decided otherwise, for he turned
and said imploringly in English, “You will no betray me, señorita?”
“Why should I betray you?” said Alison. “Who are you, and why do you
come here?”
“I am seeing the smoke, and I think my mother is here.”
“Your mother? Brigida? Then you are her son.” Alison’s mind was working
rapidly. She looked at the man searchingly. Many possibilities arose
before her. She perceived that it might be advantageous to detain him.
“I will not betray you,” she told the man. “I know your mother; she
loves you and I would not make her unhappy.”
“You are alone?” The man looked around.
“Just at this moment I am, but my friends will be here in a minute. You
will have to hide somewhere. Are you hurt?”
“I am hurt.” He limped to the bench and sat down in evident pain.
Alison viewed him compassionately. “I wish I could do something to
relieve you,” she said. “What is the matter?”
“I am pursued. I go with much hurry. I fall. I think I break the leg at
the foot.”
“Oh, dear, that is bad. It should be set at once.” She saw difficulties
to be overcome in getting relief for this man. “Perhaps it may be only
badly sprained,” she said. “Who was it pursuing you, and why did they
do it?”
The man remained silent and Alison, remembering that he was an outlaw,
did not doubt but that some of her own friends were in pursuit, for it
was he who was concerned in the thefts which Pike Smith had conducted.
He knew where Steve was. At that thought her heart gave a sudden bound.
“You are Carlos,” she said. “I remember about you. The time is very
short before my friends will be here. I must hide you, for you cannot
get very far away with that hurt. I promise not to tell where you are
if you in return will do something for me.” She looked around the bare
room but a possibility occurred to her.
“Ah, señorita,” murmured the man, “what can a poor wounded, as I, do
for you?”
“A great deal, and perhaps I can do you a good turn.” She listened for
a moment to the howling wind shrieking around the little hut. It was
the only sound she heard. There was no whistle of Hail Columbia. “I
can perhaps help you by getting word to your mother,” she continued,
“but first I must make you safe here.”
“Ah, señorita, an angel you are.” The man’s dark eyes lost some of
their fierceness as he gazed at her from under his matted locks.
“I will tell you why I wish to do this,” said Alison. “I once promised
your mother that so far as I had power to prevent it no harm should
befall you. I did not foresee this situation, but I will not inform
upon you if you will tell me where Steve Hayward is.”
The man looked around startled, as if to see if escape were possible.
“No, no,” said Alison, “don’t think of that. You would be taken. Quick,
tell me. Would you have me give you up?”
She spoke impatiently and the man staggered to his feet, but dropped
back again upon the bench with an expression of pain. “I was foolish to
come back,” he muttered to himself in Spanish.
“Then why did you do it?” asked Alison.
He looked at her surprised. “You know my language, señorita?”
“Yes, and I can be well understood by your mother. Now I will hide you.
Lie down there.” She pointed to the dark corner by the chimney. The man
obeyed her and she gathered up the armfuls of brush which Neal had
brought in and scattered them over Carlos till he was fairly hidden.
“That will do very well,” said Alison. “Now, I am waiting for you to
tell me what I asked. Otherwise, you understand, you are in my power.”
She bent her ear close to the pile of brush and the man said, “I
perceebe, señorita, and I can do no less. I am grateful that you help
me and I will also help you, but I know not where Stephen Hayward is.”
“Where did you take him?” asked Alison eagerly. “You see that I know of
his having been taken away by Pike Smith and his men.”
“We took him westward, señorita, into the mountains. There we left him.”
“Why did you leave him? What was your object?”
“There were signs of Indians. We have fear of attack. We must escape.
One horse is go lame, therefore we must leave him.”
“What Indians were they?”
“We are told the Apaches.”
“The Apaches!” Alison spoke the name with horror; she well knew the
bloodthirsty record of this tribe. “It was cruel, cruel,” she said. “It
would have been better to kill him at once.”
“No one is wish to do that. It is promise Cy Sparks not to do so, but
only to take him away to a place not return, where Mexicano is keep
prisoner; but is come the Indian, we cannot.”
“Did he have arms? Was there a possibility of escape for him? had he
food?”
“Food, yes; a pistol, also. He may perhap make to escape.”
“Oh, I have hope, I have hope,” cried Alison. “Tell me exactly where it
was that you left him.”
“In the valley of Night Creek; near mountains Guadalupe.”
“Thank you, thank you, Carlos. I believe you tell me the truth.”
“I speak truth.”
“Hush!” Alison sprang to her feet. “Keep very quiet. Some one is
coming.”
It was not Neal’s whistle that she heard, but the approach of horses.
She ran to the door, forgetting Neal’s charge to keep out of sight.
Two men had dismounted and were examining the trail of the man who lay
hidden. Unheeding the chill wind and the beating rain, Alison stood in
the doorway, but retreated a little as the men approached. They both
stopped short at sight of her, and she saw Bud and Ira.
“Alison Ross, what under canopy are you doin’ here?” exclaimed Ira.
She laughed nervously. “I came in out of the rain. What are you doing
here?”
“We are huntin’ the worst kind of cattle, one of Pike Smith’s gang.
Caught sight of him in the road ahead of us, got after him but he
slipped us somehow and we thought we had struck his trail here.” He
stepped into the room. To all appearances it was empty, save for the
presence of Chico.
“Them footprints certainly must ha’ been his’n,” said Ira, as he fell
to examining the tracks.
“Whose? Neal’s?” asked Alison innocently. “It was he who brought me
here, you see, and he has gone home for some warm things.”
“You don’t mean Neal Jordan? He got back?”
“Yes, he came this morning and rode out to meet me. Neither of us had
even a blanket, so I am waiting for him to come back with something I
can wear home. I didn’t prepare for a norther.”
“That so?” Bud had been listening attentively. “Well, you had precious
little sense, the two of ye, to come away without ary blanket.”
“You are right, but it was so pleasant when I left I had no idea we
should have such weather before I could get home.”
“Got a fire in there, hev ye?” said Ira. “Well, you need it to-day. We
was caught same as you. We was making for home when we see that blamed
Mexican.”
“Yes, and we’ll lose him sure, though he was footin’ it,” said Bud. “I
move we go on and don’t waste no more time jawin’ about it.”
“You’re surely not going to face this norther. I don’t think he can be
worth that,” said Alison.
“We ain’t sugar nor salt, and I reckon we’ve faced northers before,”
said Bud. “It’s the first time we’ve come on one of them fellows and we
mean to git somethin’ out of him. Sorry we can’t keep you company, but
I reckon you’re safe till Neal comes.”
“We was on the wrong trail, Bud,” said Ira. “I reckon we’ll strike it
further along.” And to Alison’s relief they rode away.
They were scarce out of sight before Neal’s cheery whistle was heard
above the howl of the wind and the drip of the rain. Alison was at the
door to meet the young man.
“All right?” he said, as he came forward, blankets and wraps over his
arm.
“All right,” she replied. “I’ve let the fire die down and, unless you
are very cold, I think we’d better ride on. I shall be well wrapped up,
thanks to you, Sir Knight.” She hastily slipped on the warm jacket and
hood he had brought her, and pinned a blanket around her. “There, I
think I can stand any storm,” she said. “I look like a mummy.” And they
started forth, leaving the man hidden under the pile of brush. “He will
be dry and safe, even if he is suffering,” thought Alison, and then
she cudgeled her brains for an excuse to get word to Brigida without
exciting suspicion. She was absorbed in her thoughts for a long time,
but Neal did not interrupt her brown study.
After they had again passed from the woods and had entered the way
across the prairie, she turned to him and said, “Neal, would you think
me a crazy lunatic if I asked you to go with me to the little Mexican
village on the other side of the bayou?”
“Now? In this norther?”
“Yes, now.”
“What for? Can’t wait, I suppose.”
“Not very well. The worst of it is that I don’t want any one to know
about it, and I cannot even tell you why I must go. Can you trust me
enough to go and ask no questions? I will tell you before you go away
again, but I can’t to-day. I want to see that woman Brigida.”
“And you are afraid she will die before to-morrow? Couldn’t I go for
you? Ain’t it one of those errands those jays used to do for their
young ladies?”
“Oh, don’t say young ladies,” laughed Alison; “it does sound so
commonplace. Say lady-loves.”
“All right, little lady--love.” He paused between the two words and
Alison felt the color coming to her cheeks. “I don’t want you to be
uncomfortable any longer than need be,” continued Neal, “and that’s why
I want to get you home.”
“I am comfortable, and I shall be better satisfied to go, if I can go
to-day.”
“All right. Have it your own way. As long as you don’t take cold I am
willing to do anything that suits you.”
“It is very mean of me to make you go when you have been riding all
this time in the cold.”
“That’s nothing. I’ve been out in worse weather than this, and in
company I liked less.”
“It isn’t so very far out of the way,” continued Alison, “and it is
much more sheltered. We shall not have the wind in our faces at any
rate.” So they turned off and followed the edge of the woods in another
direction till the village of adobe huts was before them.