THE RETURN OF SIR ARTEGALL
Spring had expanded into summer, the magnolias had given place to
gaudier blooms, and still came no word from Alison’s knight. She had
kept the secret of his quest well, but because of his long absence
and the continued silence Christine began to fear that he, like many
another, had been ready to love and ride away, and she noted the sober
moods of her sister with the sympathy born of her own experience.
Christine was listless, this hot summer weather, her usual alertness of
manner had left her, and there were days when she rested a great deal,
when a sharp headache would send her to a darkened room’s seclusion and
quiet.
It was one of these times when Alison left her sister to procure
possible sleep, and stole softly down-stairs. The day’s greatest heat
was over, for the sun had set. Alison walked slowly down the path to
the gate and stood there looking westward. Many, many times had she
turned her eyes in that direction to see but the waving grass of the
prairie against a line of cloudless sky. This evening the west was
gorgeous with piled up masses of purple and red. Along the horizon a
flaming yellow burned. “It is like a fire,” thought Alison, “a fiery
furnace.”
Presently against the yellow streak appeared two moving specks. Alison
watched them idly; two birds, perhaps. But as they grew larger and
larger she perceived that they were men riding leisurely towards her.
She watched to see if they would turn off where the road diverged
and went on past the wood towards Louisa’s house, but they kept on,
coming nearer, nearer, till what at first was but idle curiosity
on the part of the girl became intense interest. Surely there was
something familiar in the square shoulders, the set of the head, the
easy carriage of the man upon the right. Her heart beat tumultuously,
her eager eyes never took themselves from those advancing figures. Now
they had passed the woods and were turning up by the chaparral at the
angle where Pedro’s cabin stood. They halted here a moment, then came
steadily on. Alison clutched the fence hard; there was a buzzing in her
ears; her pulses were flying. Nearer and nearer they came till she saw
that they were indeed no chance travelers, but Neal Jordan, and could
it be Stephen? That slight, gaunt man swaying in his saddle?
The world was now bathed in a golden glory; purple and red had changed
to rose and gray overhead; the yellow flame had crept up like a
mounting fire till it overspread all the west, illumining tree and
shrub and prairie grass. Its gleams struck the silver mountings on the
horsemen’s saddles, ran along the barrels of their rifles laid across
their knees, and stole under the shadows of their sombreros to light up
their faces.
The girl uttered a smothered cry, a sob of joy, and, turning, rushed to
the house and up to the darkened room where her sister lay. She ran to
the bed and bent over the quiet figure. “Oh, Christine, Christine,” she
cried, “he is coming! They are coming!”
Christine raised herself on her elbow. “Who? Who?” she asked in a
shaking voice. “What do you mean, Alison?”
“They are coming. At last they are coming. You didn’t know that Neal
went, that I sent him, to find Steve, and oh, Christine, he has found
him. They are coming.”
“Thank God! Thank God!” Christine tottered to her feet, and the two
fell into each other’s arms, weeping hysterically.
Below stairs there was the sound of feet moving across the gallery
slowly, as if supporting a burden. “Come, come,” said Alison grasping
her sister’s hand. And they went down to find that John, too, had seen
the approach of his friends, and with Neal’s assistance was helping
Steve into the house. He lay exhausted upon the couch. Christine
dropped on her knees beside him. He raised a feeble hand and laid it on
her head. “I’ve got here at last, Tina,” he said; “I thought I’d peg
out before I did, but Neal kept me up, God bless him.”
Christine had no words; she could only kneel there sobbing. All the
pent-up grief of the past years found vent at last. He had come, and
although pale and thin and worn, he was safe.
Under a mask of lightness Alison hid her real feelings. She looked at
Neal and laughed. “Well, little lady,” he said, “I did it.”
“So I see,” she returned. “Right glad am I to welcome you back again,
Sir Artegall.” She backed away towards the door between the rooms.
“And my reward,” said Neal following her up.
“I promised you my hand, didn’t I?” She slipped through the door and
swung it together, holding it fast. Presently she opened it a crack,
and her hand wearing its ring, appeared. “Here it is,” she said. With
a quick movement Neal flung the door open and caught her. Then the
door swung to and they passed out into the open air. The soft dusk had
settled down suddenly. The jar of night insects was beginning to be
heard; dim-winged moths fluttered out from their retreats; from the
vine over the porch a mocking-bird sent forth its song. The yellow
glory had faded to a tender line of palest light along the west. Alison
stood facing it.
“You have given me your hand,” said Neal, “but you know I said I wanted
your heart with it.”
Alison, suddenly subdued, and with a memory of those months of long
waiting, dropped her flippant manner. “You have it, Neal,” she said
very seriously.
“Then you think your knight has won his spurs?”
“All that knight ever won is not too much for you. I don’t care
anything more for Sir Artegall. I am perfectly satisfied with Neal
Jordan.”
“He is no such hero as you pretend,” said Neal, looking down at her and
holding her hands in his. “There’s a good many kinds of sense I haven’t
got, Alison, my darling, and I reckon I shall make you mad pretty often
on account of what I lack, but I reckon even a smart lawyer couldn’t
work out more ways of loving you.”
“As if you needed to tell me that,” she replied. “Is there another man
in the world would have had sense enough to find Steve? Come, I want to
speak to him, I have had no chance; and we want to hear the story of
your adventures before you entirely give up your knightly character.”
“Just a minute longer,” begged Neal.
“No; we shall have a lifetime in most of which we shall have no society
but each other’s; let’s be generous now and give some one else a share
while we can,” and she ran into the house leaving him to follow.
Christine was sitting quietly by Steve’s side, her hand in his. John
was pacing the floor. He stopped his walk as Alison entered, with
Neal behind her. “Well, well,” he said, “I am the happiest man alive,
to-night.”
“No,” said Neal, putting his arm around Alison. “I am the happiest man.”
“You can’t out-class me,” came from Steve’s corner.
John laughed. “Then it seems we are a jovial crowd all around. I see
it’s all right, Neal? The little girl has waked up.”
“She is very wide awake,” answered Alison, “and has been this long
time, though she didn’t tell you, you dear old John.”
John held out his hand to his old comrade. “I repeat, that I am the
happiest man alive, with the prospect of calling my two best friends my
brothers. I’ve been waiting for you to come in, old fellow, so as to
hear your story, and Steve’s. I don’t know how these girls feel; they
may be satisfied to wait, but I confess I have an attack of curiosity
that would do credit to Hannah Maria Haley, and I want to hear your
stories.”
“They are pretty much of a oneness,” said Neal, “from the time I struck
Steve’s trail. If he isn’t too tuckered out with this day’s journey,
let him start in and I’ll come up at the finish.”
“Oh, I can talk now,” said Steve. “I’ve got the rest of time to rest
in.”
“Begin back there with the day you left these parts,” said John.
“We’ve been waiting three years to know why you didn’t meet us at
Denton the day we came in from the States.”
“Then I’ll begin right there,” said Steve. “I was starting home across
the prairie that day, when first thing I knew, whiz, came a rope
through the air and I was jerked off my horse to the ground. At first
I thought it was Injuns, but presently I saw three men, two white men
and a Mexican. One swung his rope and made after my horse, Hero, who
galloped off at such a pretty pace that he got away. All three men put
after him, and I was dragged along the ground till I got pretty sick of
it and was as battered as an old cocked hat. Well, as I said, Hero up
with his heels and streaked it like the wind, and the fellows didn’t
get him. After they had bumped me around till I felt as if my bones had
all shifted place, they picked me up and carried me off to a little
old cabin in the woods. Then I saw that the three men were Pike Smith,
old Cy Sparks and a greaser. It was Pike that had roped me. He had a
grudge against me because he had his eye on Hero when I bought him,
and I got ahead of him in the deal. He swore then that he’d get even
with me, and I ought to have been looking out for trouble. Cy had been
so keen for the horse he hadn’t noticed that Pike was amusing himself
with playing I was a dog at the end of a string, and he was right smart
put out about it; said they weren’t after men, and swore he’d inform
on Pike if he tried to get rid of me. Pike told him he reckoned there
was information to be given on both sides, and he could send Cy to
kingdom come if he chose. They had it hot and heavy for awhile. Pike
had a nasty temper and vowed he’d rid the world of me, but Cy finally
said he could get Pike’s neck in a halter without implicating himself,
and he would do it pretty quick if Pike offered to do me harm. So after
a while Pike compromised by saying he was sick of seeing me around
anyhow, and he meant to get me out of the country for one while. So
they settled on that. An old Mexican woman nursed me like a mother and
in two or three days I was packed on a mule and taken along by Pike,
and the man, Carlos, with a lot of horses over the border. Cy didn’t go
along. I believe his department was the home office. He managed that
end of the business, as I understood. We struck out west, keeping out
of the way of settlements as much as we could, and seeing nobody to
speak to till we got up into the mountains. Most of the horses had been
disposed of before then, and the rest were handed over to the pards who
were waiting in the mountain camp. They were to take them on further
and sell them, Pike waiting there till they got back. It never has been
quite clear to me just what Pike’s intentions were towards me, but I
think he meant to get rid of me as accidentally as he could. Anyway,
we started off again after a few days and hadn’t gone far before one of
the men came piling back like he had been shot out of a cannon. He said
the gang had been set on by Injuns and every one but himself had been
killed, and the horses taken. They were right after him and we’d best
get out of the way as quick as we could. His horse was about done for
and there wasn’t enough to go around, so as each wanted to save his own
neck and I was in Pike’s way anyhow, I was left behind with a pistol, a
blanket, and some food that Carlos had the decency to leave me.”
“Ah, but I’m glad I saved him,” said Alison.
“What’s that?” asked Steve.
“Never mind; it is a tame story compared to yours,” replied Alison. “Go
on, Steve, unless you are tired.”
“I’ll go on and get through with it. Well, it looked scary for a man
who hadn’t anything better’n his own legs to carry him over that
country where it was overrun with Injuns, but I jogged along the best
I could, dodging the redskins, climbing mountains, swimming streams,
killing game for food, and living as it happened. Fortunately I was
something of a woodsman and knew some tricks that were of service
to me. The Injuns were pretty likely to be skulking about, and once
or twice I came on their camp-fires, hardly cold, but I managed to
get off scot free. Once I was shot at from the bushes, and once
I came near drowning. I reckon nobody ever saw a wilder country,
rocks and precipices, cañons, ravines and mountain streams; and all
sorts of cattle in the woods: bears, wolves and wild-cats. I wonder
I got through alone and with no better weapon than a pistol, and a
bowie-knife that one of the men left behind him, there in the camp.”
“My prayers for you were answered,” said Christine, lifting his hand
and laying her cheek against it.
“I reckon that was it,” returned Steve simply. “Well, sirs, after a
time I happened on a town or two, and learned that if I struck out
north I’d reach Santa Fé. I hadn’t gone far before I fell in with some
American troops on their way to California. I learned what was going
on in that direction and made up my mind to join them. It seemed about
the best thing I could do at that time. After a while we met Kit Carson
on his way to Washington with despatches from Colonel Stockton, and
General Kearney persuaded him to hand over his despatches and said he
would have them delivered by a safe hand if Carson would pilot us to
California. I was so far from home by this time that I thought I might
as well go further and see something of service. I’d made up my mind
anyhow to go if the war broke out and one division of the army was as
good as another, so I did my best till I was taken prisoner and lay in
a nasty Indian village for months. I was rescued just when I thought
I had come to the end of my limit, taken to Santa Fé, more dead than
alive, and there Neal found me. That’s the story. I reckon I’ll let
some one else do the talking now.” He lay back exhausted, and Alison
slipped from the room, returning with a glass of fresh milk which he
drank eagerly.
“They’re going to spoil me, Neal,” he said; “I can see that.”
“You’ll take right smart of spoiling,” said John, “before you’re where
you ought to be.”
“I’m better than I look,” Steve declared. “All I want is a little
strength. Suppose you let ’em hear from you, Neal.”
“Well, you know when I started out I hadn’t much to go on,” began Neal.
“But I knew one thing; that the last seen of Steve was in the valley
of the Guadalupe, not far from Night Creek, and I made for that place
as straight as I could, following a trail I found. I got along as well
as could be expected, had a good horse, and packed what I could. I
didn’t meet any ogres or such creeturs, which wasn’t surprising to me,
whatever it may be to some others.” He looked at Alison and laughed.
“Quit your foolishness,” she said. “Go on.”
“I went on. I’ve been going on ever since I left here. Well, sirs,
after a time, didn’t I stumble on that very camp of Pike’s? and there
he was as large as life and twice as natural, with a gang of about six
others. He was as surprised a scamp as ever you did see when I called
him by name, but I saw at once that I might as well have struck an
Injun camp, and that I’d better get out as quick as I could, so I
ponied out between dark and daylight, and came near running full tilt
into a band of Injuns, but they weren’t looking for me any more than I
was for them, so I lay low and sort of circled around till I came bump
upon the camp again. It was a good thing I had the gumption to light
out when I did, for if those blamed redskins hadn’t ferreted out that
camp and there was every man scalped and as dead as a door-nail.”
“And so the Blatant Beast was killed after all and by another hand than
yours,” said Alison.
“I can’t say that I was overcome with grief,” said Neal, “though it
wasn’t a pretty company to stay with. Still, when I looked at ’em
and thought their mothers would like them to have Christian burial,
whatever sort of beasts they were, I concluded it wouldn’t hurt me to
stay long enough to get them underground decently. Then I packed the
few things the Injuns had left and came on. I knew if Steve had got
away at all, he was likely to travel towards Santa Fé and so I set my
face in that direction. But if I thought I had left danger behind me
I was mistaken, for the mountains are full of the savagest kinds of
Indians and that I got through with a whole skin was more by good luck
than good management. I was glad enough to get out of the mountains
and down into the valley where it was easier traveling. In one of
the little towns I got my first clue to Steve. Not many white people
had visited them until the Americanos had come with an army to take
possession of the country, but there had been one man not long before
the big army came; he had no horse, and from what I could learn it
seemed possible that it might be Steve. He had traveled towards Santa
Fé, so I went on in that direction. After a time I learned that the
army had gone towards California, and it seemed to my mind that my best
plan was to follow its tracks, for I argued if Steve had reached Santa
Fé he would have been home before that, so I turned west again. Pretty
soon I got into a detestable piece of country, all sand up-hill one way
and sand down-hill the other way; no water anywhere. My horse and I
were about done for when we got over it. Then I struck another desert;
about the worst piece of country I ever did come on. One spell I
thought my poor horse had given out entirely, and that I’d have to call
the search off, but I thought of two girls waiting down here in Texas
and of Steve somewhere, perhaps, and I got the pluck to go on again.”
“Oh, you dear boy!” exclaimed Christine.
“Whose prayers were at work that time?” came lazily from Steve; and if
Alison did not answer in words she did by going over to Neal and taking
her place by his side. He put his arm around her with a satisfied sigh.
“This makes up for all,” he said. “Well, sirs, when I reached the
California frontier and came to Warner’s rancho I was about as
tickled as a mule after he’s got through a day’s packing. There I
got information that made me think I’d find Steve, if he had reached
California alive, and somehow I couldn’t get it out of my head that
he had fallen in with the United States troops and had followed their
fortunes; it seemed the most sensible thing. I kept on a moving till
I came across a man who had been with the army on that trip. He
remembered distinctly the day they had picked up a man traveling afoot;
they had all thought it such an unusual occurrence and we made up our
minds between us that it was Steve. He would hardly believe I had come
all the way from Texas by my lone; said I was some kind of a fool for
trying such a journey, and there were times when I could have agreed
with him without a question. Well, sirs, there was nothing to be done,
that I could see, but to go back to Santa Fé where most of Kearney’s
troops were garrisoned, for my military friend assured me that I
wouldn’t be likely to find Steve anywhere else. It was right smart of
a journey and I wasn’t particularly set on going back alone, but I
managed to strike in with a party going that way, and it wasn’t so bad,
though it wasn’t specially funny. After I reached Santa Fé I went right
to headquarters where I learned that, sure enough, Steve had been one
of their scouts and had been captured during one of those uprisings
they got up there in New Mexico, and, although the war was over and
peace declared, they had only located him recently in one of the
little Indian villages, where there were some prisoners that had been
kept over. They weren’t certain whether he was alive or not, but said
perhaps I could find out from a Captain Owens who had gone out with a
company to bring in these prisoners. I wasn’t very long in finding out,
though they said at first he wasn’t there, that he had died on the way.
I made up my mind I wouldn’t believe that till I had proofs, and at
last I found him.”
“Oh, weren’t you glad? Weren’t you glad?” exclaimed Alison.
“If you mean me,” said Steve from his couch, “use some stronger word.”
“If you mean me,” said Neal, “suppose you ask if I didn’t dance a
breakdown, if I didn’t let out a yell that scared the town; if I didn’t
pop off a dozen good rounds to let ’em see how glad I was. Well, sirs,
I had found my man, about as poor, peaked, skinny, yaller, feeble
looking a creetur as you’d care to see.”
“Yes, and what do you suppose was the first thing he said to me?” said
Steve. “He said, ‘If I had known what a poor miserable cuss I was
lookin’ for, I’d have taken a shorter cut, round by a graveyard.’”
“Oh, Neal,” said Alison reproachfully.
Neal laughed, and Steve said: “Bless his old bones, why Allie that was
his way of keeping me from knowing just how he did feel. I might have
been in that graveyard by this time if it hadn’t been for him. I stood
in pretty good need of attention. Neal got leave to take me under his
special care, and nursed me day and night. I came near keeling under
two or three times, but he finally brought me up standing, and as soon
as we thought I could undertake the journey we started. We have had to
travel slowly, and I gave out once or twice, but I pulled through. We
had set our hearts on getting here to-day, so I rather overdid it, and
that is why I am a little the worse for wear now, but I’ll be as peart
as a lizard before long.”
“There’s nothing like real unadulterated, triple X happiness as a
medicine,” said Neal, “and that’s why I wanted to get you home as quick
as I could.”
“But why did we never hear from either of you?” asked Alison.
“That was what worried me more than anything,” said Steve. “I asked old
Cy Sparks to let you-all know about me, but he was a slick old party
and wasn’t going to tell anything to his own discredit, as I might
have known. He said I could get back soon and there would be some way
of circumventing Pike. I could see that he had to let Pike have his
way to a certain extent, and at that time I didn’t believe but that I
would get back in the course of a few weeks at the most. There wasn’t
much communication with the States after the war was on, and although
I wrote from Los Angeles, I hadn’t much hope that you would get the
letter. Of course after I was captured I might as well have been on
an island in the Pacific, for all the news I could get to the outside
world.”
“And as for me,” said Neal, “there wasn’t much to tell till I actually
found Steve, and then he was such a poor triflin’ creetur he didn’t
seem worth writin’ about.” By which they understood that so long as
Steve’s life hung in the balance, Neal felt it would be poor kindness
to raise hopes which, ultimately, might be proved false.
A silence fell upon the little group. From outside came the monotonous
chirr of the insects, interrupted at intervals by the song of the
mocking-bird thrilling from the vine over the door. “Well, you two have
had experiences that would fill a book,” said John, breaking the pause.
“I think I must go over and tell Laura. If two are company and three a
crowd, what are double two and the odd one?”
“You can answer that conundrum for yourself,” replied Neal. “We’ll
take the hint, Alison. Come out and leave that long-legged skeleton to
Christine.” But the two they left indoors were scarcely happier than
the two who sought the garden and paced love’s way to the music of the
mockingbird’s song.