_Elise_
Bennie was an early riser, as became a faithful cook; but, early as he
usually was, this morning he was startled into wakefulness by a jarring
chug, as Zephyr, with a relieved grunt, dropped a squashy sack on the
floor near his bunk. Bennie sprang to a sitting posture, rubbing his
sleepy eyes to clear his vision; but, before he could open his eyes or
his mouth beyond a startled ejaculation, Zephyr had departed. He soon
reappeared. There was another chug, another grunt, and another
departure. Four times this was repeated. Then Zephyr seated himself on
the bunk, and, pushing back his sombrero, mopped his perspiring brow.
"What the--" Bennie started in, but Zephyr's uplifted hand restrained
him.
"The race is not to the swift, Julius Benjamin. The wise hound holds his
yap till he smells a hot foot. Them indecisive sacks is hot footses,
Julius Benjamin; but it isn't your yap, not by quite some."
"What's up, Zephyr?" asked Bennie. "I'm not leaky."
"Them gelatinous sacks," Zephyr went on, eyeing them meditatively, "I
found hidden in the bushes near the mine, and they contain mighty
interesting matter. They're an epitome of life. They started straight,
but missed connections. Pulled up at the wrong station. I've thrown the
switch, and now you and me, Julius, will make it personally conducted
the rest of the trip."
"Hm!" mused Bennie. "I see. That stuff's been pinched from the mill."
"Good boy, Julius Benjamin! You're doing well. You'll go into words of
two syllables next."
Zephyr nodded, with a languid smile.
"But, to recapitulate, as my old school-teacher used to say, there's
thousands of dollars in them sacks. The Rainbow ain't coughing up no
such rich stuff as that. That rock is broken; ergo, it's been under the
stamps. It's coarse and fine, from which I infer it hasn't been through
the screens. And furthermore----"
Bennie interrupted eagerly.
"They've just hung up the stamps and raked out the rich stuff that's
settled between the dies!"
"Naturally, gold being heavier than quartz. Julius Benjamin, you're fit
for the second reader."
Bennie laughed softly.
"It's Luna or Morrison been robbing the mill. Won't Frenchy pull the
long face when he hears of your find?"
Zephyr made no farther reply than to blow _There'll Be a Hot Time_ from
pursed lips as he rolled a cigarette.
"So there will be," Bennie answered.
"Not to-night, Bennie." Zephyr was puffing meditative whiffs in the air.
"Great things move slowly. Richard Firmstone is great, Benjamin; leave
it to him."
Bennie was already dressed, and Zephyr, throwing the stub of his
cigarette through the open window, followed him to the kitchen. He ate
his specially prepared breakfast with an excellent appetite.
"I think I'll raise my bet. I mentioned a sack of flour and a side of
bacon. I'll take a can of coffee and a dab of sugar. St. Peter'll
appreciate that. 'Tis well to keep on the right side of the old man.
Some of us may have occasion to knock at his gate before the summer is
over. You've heard of my new claim, Bennie?"
Bennie made no reply. Between packing up Zephyr's supplies, attending to
breakfast for the men, and thinking of the sacks of stolen ore, he was
somewhat preoccupied.
Zephyr stowed the supplies in his pack and raised it to his shoulder.
Bennie looked up in surprise.
"You're not going now, are you?"
Zephyr was carefully adjusting the straps of his pack.
"It looks pretty much that way, Benjamin. When a man's got all he wants,
it's time for him to lope. If he stays, he might get more and
possibly--less."
"What will I do with these sacks?" Bennie asked hurriedly, as Zephyr
passed through the door.
Zephyr made no reply, further than softly to whistle _Break the News to
Mother_ as he swung into the trail. He clumped sturdily along,
apparently unmindful of the rarefied air that would ordinarily make an
unburdened man gasp for breath. His lips were still pursed, though they
had ceased to give forth sound. He came to the nearly level terrace
whereon, among scattered boulders, were clustered the squat shanties of
the town of Pandora.
He merely glanced at the Blue Goose, whose polished windows were just
beginning to glow with the light of the rising sun. He saw a door open
at the far end of the house and Madame La Martine emerge, a broom in her
hands and a dust-cloth thrown over one shoulder.
Pierre's labours ended late. Madame's began very early. Both had an
unvarying procession. Pierre had much hilarious company; it was his
business to keep it so. He likewise had many comforting thoughts; these
cost him no effort. The latter came as a logical sequence to the former.
Madame had no company, hilarious or otherwise. Instead of complacent
thoughts, she had anxiety. And so it came to pass that, while Pierre
grew sleek and smooth with the passing of years, Madame developed many
wrinkles and grey hairs and a frightened look, from the proffering of
wares that were usually thrust aside with threatening snarls and many
harsh words. Pierre was not alone in the unstinted pouring forth of the
wine of pleasure for the good of his companions and in uncorking his
vials of wrath for the benefit of his wife.
Zephyr read the whole dreary life at a glance. A fleeting thought came
to Zephyr. How would it have been with Madame had she years ago chosen
him instead of Pierre? A smile, half pitying, half contemptuous, was
suggested by an undecided quiver of the muscles of his face, more
pronounced by the light in his expressive eyes. He left the waggon trail
that zig-zagged up the steep grade beyond the outskirts of the town,
cutting across their sharp angles in a straight line. Near the foot of
an almost perpendicular cliff he again picked up the trail. Through a
notch in the brow of the cliff a solid bar of water shot forth. The
solid bar, in its fall broken to a misty spray, fell into a mossy basin
at the cliff's foot, regathered, and then, sliding and twisting in its
rock-strewn bed, gurgled among nodding flowers and slender, waving
willows that were fanned into motion by the breath of the falling spray.
Where the brook crossed the trail Zephyr stood still. Not all at once.
There was an indescribable suggestion of momentum overcome by the
application of perfectly balanced power.
Zephyr did not whistle, even softly. Instead, there was a low hum--
_But the maiden in the garden
Was the fairest flower of all._
Zephyr deliberately swung his pack from his shoulders, deposited it on
the ground, and as deliberately seated himself on the pack. There was an
unwonted commotion among the cluster of thrifty plants at which Zephyr
was looking expectantly. A laughing face with large eyes sparkling with
mischievous delight looked straight into his own. As the girl rose to
her feet she tossed a long, heavy braid of black hair over her shoulder.
"You thought you would scare me; now, didn't you?" She came forth from
the tangled plants and stood before him.
Zephyr's eyes were resting on the girl's face with a smile of quiet
approbation. Tall and slender, she was dressed in a dark gown, whose
sailor blouse was knotted at the throat with a red scarf; at her belt a
holster showed a silver-mounted revolver. An oval face rested on a
shapely neck, as delicately poised as the nodding flowers she held in
her hand. A rich glow, born of perfect health and stimulating air,
burned beneath the translucent olive skin.
Zephyr made no direct reply to her challenge.
"Why aren't you helping Madame at the Blue Goose?"
"Because I've struck, that's why." There was a defiant toss of the head,
a compressed frown on the arching brows. Like a cloud wind-driven from
across the sun the frown disappeared; a light laugh rippled from between
parted lips. "Daddy was mad, awfully mad. You ought to have seen him."
The flowers fell from her hands as she threw herself into Pierre's
attitude. "'Meenx,'" she mimicked, "'you mek to defy me in my own house?
Me? Do I not have plenty ze troub', but you mus' mek ze more? _Hein?_
Ansaire!' And so I did. So!" She threw her head forward, puckered her
lips, thrusting out the tip of her tongue at the appreciative Zephyr.
"Oh, it's lots of fun to get daddy mad. 'Vaire is my whip, my dog whip?
I beat you. I chastise you, meenx!'" The girl stooped to pick up her
scattered flowers. "Only it frightens poor mammy so. Mammy never talks
back only when daddy goes for me. I'd just like to see him when he comes
down this morning and finds me gone. It would be lots of fun. Only, if I
was there, I couldn't be here, and it's just glorious here, isn't it?
What's the trouble, Zephyr? You haven't said a word to me all this
time."
"When your blessed little tongue gets tired perhaps I'll start in.
There's no more telling when that will be than what I'll say, supposing
I get the chance."
"Oh, I knew there was something I wanted especially to see you about."
The face grew cloudy. "What do you think? You know I was sixteen my last
birthday, just a week ago?" She paused and looked at Zephyr
interrogatively. "I want to know where you are all the time now. It's
awfully important. I may want to elope with you at a moment's notice!"
She looked impressively at Zephyr.
Zephyr's jaw dropped.
"What the mischief----"
Elise interrupted:
"No, wait; I'm not through. Daddy got very playful that day, chucked my
chin, and called me _ma chere enfant_. That always means mischief.
'Elise bin seexten to-day, heh? Bimeby she tink to liv' her hol' daddy
and her hol' mammy and bin gone hoff wiz anodder feller, _hein_?' Then
he made another dab at my chin. I knew what he meant." She again assumed
Pierre's position. "'What you say, _ma cherie_? I pick you hout one nice
man! One ver' nice man! _Hein?_ M'sieu Mo-reeson. A ver' nice man. He
ben took good care _ma cherie_!'"
Zephyr was betrayed into a startled motion. Elise was watching him with
narrowed eyes. There was a gleam of satisfaction.
"That's all right, Zephyr. That's just what I did, only I did more. I
told daddy I'd just like M'sieu Mo-reeson to say marry to me! I told
daddy that I'd take the smirk out of M'sieu Mo-reeson's face and those
pretty curls out of M'sieu Mo-reeson's head if he dared look marry at
me. Only," she went on, "I'm a little girl, after all, and I thought the
easiest way would be to elope with you. I would like to see M'sieu
Mo-reeson try to take me away from a big, strong man like you." There
was an expression of intense scorn on her face that bared the even
teeth.
Zephyr was not conscious of Elise. There was a hard, set look on his
face. Elise noted it. She tossed her head airily.
"Oh, you needn't look so terribly distressed. You needn't, if you don't
want to. I dare say that the superintendent at the mill would jump at
the chance. I think I shall ask him, anyway." Her manner changed. "Why
do they always call him the old man? He is not such a very old man."
"They'd call a baby 'the old man' if he was superintendent. Do they say
much about him?" Zephyr asked, meditatively.
"Oh yes, lots. M'sier Mo-reeson"--she made a wry face at the name--"is
always talking about that minion of capitalistic oppression that's
sucking the life-blood of the serfs of toil. Daddy hates the old man.
He's afraid of him. Daddy always hates anyone he's afraid of, except
me."
Zephyr grunted absently.
"That's so." Elise spoke emphatically. "That's why I'm here to-day. I
told daddy that if I was old enough to get married I was old enough to
do as I liked."
In spite of his languid appearance Zephyr was very acute. He was getting
a great deal that needed careful consideration. He was intensely
interested, and he wanted to hear more. He half hesitated, then decided
that the end justified the means.
"What makes you think that Pierre hates the old man?" he ventured,
without changing countenance.
"Oh, lots of things. He tells Luna and M'sieu Mo-reeson"--another wry
face--"to 'look hout.' He talks to the men, tells them that the 'hol'
man ees sleek, ver' sleek, look hout, da's hall, an' go slow,' and a lot
of things. I'm awfully hungry, Zephyr, and I don't want to go down for
breakfast. Haven't you got something good in your pack? It looks awfully
good." She prodded the pack with inquisitive fingers.
Zephyr rose to his feet.
"It will be better when I've cooked it. You'll eat a breakfast after my
cooking?"
Elise clapped her hands.
"That will be fine. I'll just sit here and boss you. If you're good, and
you are, you know, I'll tell you some more about M'sieu. Suppose we just
call him M'sieu, just you and me. That'll be our secret."
Zephyr gathered dry sticks and started a fire. He opened his pack, cut
off some slices of bacon, and, impaling them on green twigs, hung them
before the fire. A pinch of salt and baking powder in a handful of flour
was mixed into a stiff paste, stirred into the frying-pan, which was
propped up in front of the fire. He took some cups from his pack, and,
filling them with water, put them on the glowing coals.
Elise kept up a rattling chatter through it all.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Daddy says M'sieu is going to be a great man, a
great labour leader. That's what M'sieu says himself--that he will lead
benighted labour from the galling chains of slavery into the glorious
light of freedom's day." Elise waved her arms and rolled her eyes. Then
she stopped, laughing. "It's awfully funny. I hear it all when I sit at
the desk. You know there's only thin boards between my desk and daddy's
private room, and I can't help but hear. That coffee and bacon smell
good, and what a lovely bannock! Aren't you almost ready? It's as nice
as when we were on the ranch, and you used to carry me round on your
back. That was an awful long time ago, though, wasn't it?"
Zephyr only grunted in reply. He pursed his lips for a meditative
whistle, thought better of it, took the frying-pan from its prop, and
sounded the browning bannock with his fingers.
_For the babbling streams of youth
Grow to silent pools of truth
When they find a thirsty hollow
On their way._
He spoke dreamily.
"What are you talking about?" Elise broke in.
"Oh, nothing in particular. I was just thinking--might have been
thinking out loud."
"That's you, every time, Zephyr. You think without talking, and I talk
without thinking. It's lots more fun. Do you think I will ever grow into
a dear, sober old thing like you? Just tell me that." She stooped down,
taking Zephyr's face in both her hands and turned it up to her own.
Zephyr looked musingly up into the laughing eyes, and took her hands
into his.
"Not for the same reasons, I guess, not if I can help it," he added,
half to himself. "Now, if you'll be seated, I'll serve breakfast." He
dropped the hands and pointed to a boulder.
Elise ate the plain fare with the eager appetite of youth and health.
From far down the gulch the muffled roar of the stamps rose and fell on
the light airs that drifted up and down. Through it all was the soft
swish of the falling spray, the sharp _blip! blip!_ as points of
light, gathered from dripping boughs, grew to sparkling gems, then,
losing their hold, fell into little pools at the foot of the cliff. High
above the straggling town the great cables of the tram floated in the
air like dusty webs, and up and down these webs, like black spiders,
darted the buckets that carried the ore from mine to mill, then
disappeared in the roaring mill, and dumping their loads of ore shot up
again into sight, and, growing in size, swept on toward the cliff and
passed out of sight over the falls above.
Across the narrow gulch a precipice sheered up eight hundred feet, a
hard green crown of stunted spruces on its retreating brow, above the
crown a stretch of soft green meadow steeply barred with greener
willows, above the meadow jagged spires of blackened lava, thrust up
from drifts of shining snow: a triple tiara crowning this silent priest
of the mountains.
To the east the long brown slide was marked with clifflets mottled as
was Joseph's coat of many colours, with every shade of red and yellow
that rusting flecks of iron minerals could give, brightened here and
there with clustered flowers which marked a seeping spring, up and up,
broken at last by a jagged line of purple that lay softly against the
clear blue of the arching sky.
To the west the mountains parted and the vision dropped to miles of
browning mesa, flecked with ranchers' squares of irrigated green. Still
farther a misty haze of distant mountains rose, with the great soft bell
of the curving sky hovering over all.
Zephyr ate in a silence which Elise did not care to break. Her restless
eyes glanced from Zephyr to the mountains, fell with an eager caress on
the flowers that almost hid the brook, looked out to the distant mesa,
and last of all shot defiance at the blazing windows of the Blue Goose
that were hurtling back the fiery darts of the attacking sun.
She sprang to her feet, brushing the crumbs from her clothes.
"Much obliged, Mr. Zephyr, for your entertainment." She swept him a low
courtesy. "I told you I was out for a lark to-day. Now you can wash the
dishes."
Zephyr had also risen. He gave no heed to her playful attitude.
"I want you to pay especial attention, Elise."
"Oh, gracious!" she exclaimed. "Now I'm in for it." She straightened her
face, but she could not control the mischievous sparkle of her eyes.
There was little of meditation but much decision in Zephyr's words.
"Don't let Pierre tease you, persuade you, frighten you, or bulldoze you
into marrying that Morrison. Do you hear? Get away. Run away."
"Or elope," interrupted Elise. "Don't skip that."
"Go to Bennie, the old man, or to anyone, if you can't find me."
"What a speech, Zephyr! Did any of it get away?"
Zephyr was too much in earnest even to smile.
"Remember what I say."
"You put in an awful lot of hard words. But then, I don't need to
remember. I may change my mind. Maybe there'd be a whole lot of fun
after all in marrying M'sieu. I'd just like to show him that he can't
scare me the way daddy does mammy. It would be worth a whole box of
chips. On the whole I think I'll take daddy's advice. Bye-bye, Zephyr."
She again picked up her scattered flowers and went dancing and skipping
down the trail. At the turn she paused for an instant, blew Zephyr a
saucy kiss from the tips of her fingers, then passed out of sight.
A voice floated back to the quiet figure by the fire.
"Don't feel too bad, Zephyr. I'll probably change my mind again."