"NOW that we are here," said Van Shaw, "I simply want to repeat what I
said. You don't butt into my affairs. Keep out. Coleman overheard a part
of what you told Mrs. Douglas to-day while you were near the cemetery
rock. He was on the other side of it. What you said may be true, but I
consider it a sneaking thing and I won't stand for it."
Bauer was still. In the first place he had never faced such a situation
and in the darkness there he swiftly recurred to his talk with Mrs.
Douglas. He had found her already prepared for a part of what he had to
say. Esther, sensitively intelligent in anything relating to Helen's
welfare, had not seen Van Shaw a moment before she felt a repulsion for
him amounting to horror. What Bauer told her from his own knowledge of
Van Shaw's immoral life in Burrton roused all her mother instincts to
protect her child from a fate worse than death if she should marry a man
who had already fallen. She shared in the fullest degree with Bauer's
deep fear that Helen might, in her desire for the soft and beautiful
things of wealth, risk her very life itself, not because she knew she
was doing it, but partly through ignorance of the real character of the
man who had the unblushing selfishness to ask a pure girl like Helen to
accept him as a husband, knowing himself to be what he was.
And Bauer, measuring in his slow but not stupid fashion all the
consequences of his action in warning Mrs. Douglas, knowing clearly the
code of morals governing men like Van Shaw and the wicked and
unchristian standard of even so-called Christian society in condemning
what it called "telling on others," nevertheless went forward to do what
seemed to him to be only necessary in the name of common honour and
decency.
The fact that Van Shaw had found out what he had done did not disturb
him greatly. The only thing that troubled him now was to hold himself
sufficiently in hand. He had never hated anyone in his life except this
rich man's son and he had been slow to entertain that feeling for him.
But it had grown like a tropical plant within the last three days. And
all the old Teutonic rage latent in him was at the boiling point
whenever he thought of Van Shaw and Helen together. He said to himself
there in the darkness that if there had been light enough to see Van
Shaw's sneering face he would have struck it. He remembered hearing his
own father say once that one of his ancestors at Lausbrachen had choked
the life out of a family enemy, using only one hand around the man's
throat. He was so afraid of himself now that he involuntarily stepped
back away from Van Shaw and Van Shaw noted it and put the action down to
cowardice or fear.
"Well, are you going to keep out of my affairs? Is it any business of
yours whether I try to make friends with the Douglases? Or
perhaps------" he suddenly changed his tone as if a new thought had
broken in on his mind. "Look here, Bauer. Perhaps--well, maybe you don't
understand------I am going to marry Miss Douglas!"
"What!" Bauer cried out. He stepped nearer Van Shaw and Van Shaw stepped
back, nearer the edge of the rock.
"Well," Van Shaw laughed. "That is, as soon as she says yes, I am. My
intentions are all right. But--" and his accustomed mood quickly
reasserted itself, "I warn you to keep out. Leave my affairs alone. A
fellow whose father and mother have done what yours have, isn't in the
best position to throw stones at other people."
Felix Bauer long years afterwards confessed to the dearest friend he
had, that in that moment he had the nearest approach to the thought of
murder and hate he ever knew. But before he could reply to Van Shaw's
brutality he saw him stagger and reel and throw up his arms on the edge
of the rock. He heard him cry out, "For God's sake, Bauer!" and then he
fell backward and disappeared over the cliff.
For a second Bauer stood in his place smitten with horror. He was
totally ignorant of the character of the ground where Van Shaw had been
standing and of what lay below. Evidently a shelving piece of the rotten
sandstone had broken off. How much of the edge was dangerous it was
impossible to tell there in the dark. He uttered one loud cry of "Help!"
and then flung himself down full length and dragged himself up to the
place where Van Shaw had disappeared.
Just as he reached the edge, he heard fragments of the rock go rattling
down and a sound as of a heavy body falling somewhere. He peered over
fearfully. He shouted again. He looked, straining down, and it seemed to
him that about twenty feet below he could see a huddled-up body lying on
a projecting ledge.
And then Felix Bauer did as brave or as foolhardy a thing as anyone ever
did. It was partly to punish himself for the murderous feeling he had
entertained a moment before that he now said, "Good God! I must save him
now. Help me, God! Help me!"
He swung about on the edge of the ragged rock and let his feet down. He
felt a projecting knob of something, and then for a sickening second he
paused and shouted again and then he let go, hugging the face of the
cliff. As he went down, he began to realise thankfully that the cliff
was rough and irregular. His hands were running blood, but he did not
know it. As he felt resting places for his feet, or anything for his
hands to clutch, he sobbed, "God help me! God help me!"
He was down at last near enough to see that Van Shaw had fallen in a
bent-over position on a shelf of rock, a little more than wide enough to
hold his body. He called to him but received no answer. At last he was
near enough to drop down on the ledge but as he was about to do so, Van
Shaw, with a groan of pain, turned over, and began to roll towards the
edge.
Bauer desperately let go of everything, fell in a lump and snatched at
Van Shaw. He caught one arm and, panting, held onto it. The rest of Van
Shaw's body was hanging over the side of the ledge, and even in that
critical moment Bauer recalled his first view of Oraibi rock as the
wagons had come up from the Oraibi Wash and the Tolchaco party had
scanned through the field glass the inaccessible sides. But he was on
the opposite side now and how far it was below the place where he now
was he could not tell. Only he knew it must be a killing distance down
there in the dark that seemed to be reaching up black, heavy hands
pulling at Van Shaw's unconscious body, pulling at it harder and harder
every second. He could feel himself slipping down across the smooth
ledge which offered no place for his sliding feet. He was using his last
strength, but every second it seemed impossible. His lungs were
bursting. The red taste of hot blood was in his mouth; he had a confused
thought that he could let go of Van Shaw's arm any time, but he did not
let go. He was slipping, slipping down, pulled inch by inch by those
strong black hands of the dark down there, but still he clung and sobbed
"God, save us!"
And then Elijah Clifford's voice called to him.
"I'm coming, Bauer, I'm coming."
The voice gave Felix one more ounce of strength. He exerted it, was
conscious that someone was down there with him farther off at the side
of the ledge, then his hold loosened, everything turned black and he did
not know any more.
When he came to himself he was lying on one of the seats of the little
chapel. Anxious white, frightened faces were all about him. He was dimly
aware of Mr. and Mrs. Douglas and Mr. and Mrs. Masters and Elijah
Clifford and Miss Gray and Helen and a group of tourists, one of whom he
heard Mr. Douglas call "doctor." He seemed to feel conscious of another
body that was lying on a bench near him, the body of Van Shaw, and as it
stirred and groaned, he had an undefined feeling of thankfulness that he
was still alive and that no murder had been committed. And then the hot
taste of blood came into his mouth and he knew his hemorrhage had come
on again.
He was too weak to talk and felt irritated at the hubbub about him. But
cots were soon provided and he and Van Shaw and Helen were carried down
the trail to their tents, where a curious and interested group soon
gathered. Van Shaw had broken his shoulder and one leg. The doctor was
not certain about other and internal injuries. But Van Shaw was
conscious and unless something unforeseen took place, he was in a fair
way to recover.
Everyone was excited and sleep was out of the question. So when
everything possible had been done for Bauer and Van Shaw, Elijah
Clifford told what he knew of the accident and in his own way related
his share in the evening's adventures.
"You see, I had just lighted our lantern and had stepped out of the
chapel to light our folks down the trail when I heard Bauer's cry for
help. I hadn't seen him go out and I didn't know what he was doing out
there, but it's always been a rule of the Mission when anyone yells
'help,' to run in that direction. I fell over an old standard oil can
and broke my lantern and my shins. And I guess while I was down, Bauer
was just getting over the edge of the rock.
"Say! Talk about recklessness, I take it Herr Felix Bauer has us all
beat to a-run-down-the-trail-and-back. You strangers from New York, how
would you like to back off the top of the Flat Iron Building, hang onto
the coping with your fingers for a second and then let go, trusting to
strike a window ledge or something between the soles of your shoes and
Madison Square? Well, that's just what this tuberculosis son of Germany
did, and if it doesn't knock all the snake traditions of this old rock
into piki bread crumbs then I have lost my way and forgotten where I
started from."
"How about yourself?" asked one of the New York tourists. "Didn't you go
down the same place?"
In the light of the camp fire it was not easy to see that Elijah
Clifford actually blushed. But he did, and Miss Gray sat near enough to
note it. If Elijah Clifford had not been so embarrassed by the New York
man's question he might possibly, if he had been looking in Miss Gray's
direction, have seen a new look on her face. A look of shy Admiration
that belongs to the border land of another county called Affection,
which is a near by state to another called Love. But Clifford hastened
to say:
"Oh, I had a light to go down with. When I fell, I broke the glass, but
lucky the light did not go out, so I could see where I was going. And
when I got down, there was Bauer hanging on to Van Shaw's arm in the
most affectionate manner, as if he didn't want to have him leave before
his visit was over. I hadn't more than time to get my foot braced on the
lantern or something, when Bauer turned his friend over to me and for a
minute or two he was on my hands, but by that time the folks up on top
had let down some ropes and we soon got everybody up all right."
"Elijah," said Mr. Masters reproachfully, "why don't you go into the
details? You know that when Mr. Douglas and I climbed down on the ropes,
you were almost over the edge with Van Shaw's body."
"Well, that's the most slippery piece of rock I ever felt," said
Clifford, and again he failed to note a movement on the part of Miss
Gray. When Masters had said that Clifford had almost gone over the edge
of the ledge with Van Shaw's body, she had put out the hand nearest
Clifford, as if to hold him back.
"Yes," said Clifford, "that ledge is smooth and no mistake. If any more
folks are going to fall over onto it, I think the Commissioners in
Oraibi ought to drive some nails into it, or else build a neat little
concrete wall around it. There were times while I was down there
thinking it over, that I would have given considerable for a good, high
English garden wall on the other side of Van Shaw's body and me. A
lantern is a poor thing to brace your feet on. It lacks staying powers."
"Gentlemen," said Masters, turning to the group around the fire, "we
have had a most wonderful deliverance from a tragedy and it is due to
the heroism of two of the bravest men that ever lived. Elijah, don't
interrupt me. The only way we can express our thanks is to go to the
Heavenly Father with them," and without a moment's pause as if it were
the most natural thing in the world, as it was with him, Masters broke
into a prayer of thanksgiving so tender and eloquent that Helen, whose
cot had been placed in one of the tents with its front opening near the
fire where she could hear everything, bent her head over on her arms and
cried.
She had been under a great nervous tension all day. And this last scene,
coming as a most astonishing climax to it all, affected her quick
imagination. Another thing had added to all the rest, at the memory of
which she blushed as she hid her face in her hands during the quiet that
followed that prayer by Masters.
When the three cots, her own, Bauer's and Van Shaw's, had been brought
down the trail, at one place in a turn of the passage, while the bearers
had to set the cots down to make some changes in the way of carrying
them, her cot had stood a moment by the side of Van Shaw's. And in that
moment, in the pale darkness, softened by the light of two or three
lanterns, she had felt her hand seized. She almost screamed. It was Van
Shaw's hand that had reached out from his blanket and for a moment he
had almost crushed her fingers. She was not certain even now that he had
known what he was doing, or that it was more than a convulsive movement
in his semi-conscious condition. But the memory of it burned her cheeks
like fire, and long after the last embers of the camp fire had died into
grey ashes, she lay there in the tent wide awake and sleepless.
After awhile she grew aware that her mother was sitting close by her.
Esther had determined, after what she had heard from Bauer, to have a
talk with Helen at the first opportunity. The accident to Van Shaw had
changed her purpose somewhat, but she said to herself it had not changed
the facts in the case of Van Shaw's character, and the matter was still
in the same condition as before the accident happened. With that in
mind, mother and daughter began to talk together almost in a whisper,
mindful of the thin tent walls and the nearness of the other members of
the party. Their precaution was, however, almost needless, for everyone
in both camps was sound asleep, and Van Shaw's own wagon and tent were
at the farthest bounds of the camp, removed from the rest so he would
not be disturbed.
"I can't sleep, mother, it has been such an exciting day. Was there ever
such a day; in my life? And I think this last thing has shaken me. I
never knew before what it meant to have nerves. But I can't shut out the
picture of that snake dance and that terrible cliff and------"
She hesitated and then feeling her mother's hand enfolding hers, she
said, with the frankness that had always been true of her confidences
with her mother.
"There is another thing that has made the day different from any other
day for me. I ought to tell you, mother."
"Don't tell anything that belongs to you as your own."
"No. But this belongs to you. I cannot rest without telling."
Helen was glad the darkness hid her face. She told her mother plainly
what Van Shaw had said to her up there on the rock during the brief time
they had been alone.
When Helen had apparently told all, Esther was silent. Helen began to
feel frightened.
"Well, mother, you don't blame me, do you? Did I, have I--at any time
given him any--any--encouragement to think------"
"No, no, dear, I am sure you have not been unmaidenly. But you do not
know all--as I do, as others do, of this young man. I think you ought to
know before you let your feeling, whatever it is, go farther."
And in a direct, plain way, as she had always talked with her children,
Esther told Helen what Bauer had told her.
When she finished, the girl was silent so long, that her mother began to
fear again, that deadening fear she had experienced of late whenever she
had come to realise the girl's infatuation for the luxurious life. But
Esther was not prepared for the question Helen asked when she broke her
long silence.
"How did you come to know all this, mother? How do you know it is true?"
It was Esther's turn to be silent. If she told Helen that her source of
information was Bauer, the girl might reasonably put it down as due to
the jealousy of a rival, and so question its reliability. As a matter of
fact, at that very moment, Van Shaw's parting words were in Helen's
memory, "Don't believe all the stories you may hear about me."
"Mr. Bauer told me," said Esther slowly. "He knew the facts. They are
known to others at Burrton. His only motive was to save you the------"
"He might spare himself the trouble," said Helen, sharply. "I can't help
thinking he is interfering in my affairs and especially in Mr. Van
Shaw's."
"He certainly interfered in his affairs when he saved his life
to-night," said Esther quietly, and the words smote Helen almost like a
blow. For she realised for the first time that night that her sympathy
and imagination had been exercised almost wholly for Van Shaw, broken
and bruised in that awful fall over the cliff. "Saved his life!" Bauer
had done that! After telling her mother the story she had just heard! It
was a most wonderful thing to do, as Elijah Clifford had said in his
narrative out there a little while ago. And yet, and yet, she heard
herself saying to her mother the next moment:
"It seems strange that Mr. Bauer should tell you this. It doesn't seem
possible. I can't believe it!"
At that, Esther could not suppress a heart cry so full of agony that
Helen was terrified.
"Mother! mother!" was all she could say. But Esther quickly calmed
herself.
"Helen, if this young man should be unworthy of you, could you give
yourself to him simply because he had money to offer?"
"No, no, mother, I am not wicked like that. You must not think so. I
could not help questioning Mr. Bauer's statements. He is not
altogether------" she could not say the word "disinterested," and her
mother said it for her.
"But he knows how hopeless his case is. He is not expecting to gain any
favour by telling me what he knows. Can you not see it is simply to save
you from making the most awful mistake a girl can make in all her life
when she unknowingly marries such a man? Bauer never expects to be a
successful suitor. I do not believe you have any true measure of his
feeling for you. But he is willing to risk anything to spare you misery.
Cannot you see that? What other motive could he have? He is not a rival.
The poor fellow told me frankly that he had given up all hope for
himself. It is pure friendship, and it is so rare and so beautiful a
thing that you cannot afford to trample it down or disbelieve the story
he told me. Helen, if you should let your admiration for money and its
power take such a step as to encourage a man like Van Shaw, it would
break your mother's heart. But worse than that, it would break your own.
Oh, you cannot, you will not do such a thing."
What could Helen say to that? And what less could Esther say to her? Let
the careless mothers in America answer--the mothers who never talk
frankly with their daughters about these things, and the careless
daughters who never take their mothers into their confidence. How many
unhappy marriages would never occur if mothers did their duty and
daughters listened to and heeded the best friend they have on earth.
When Mrs. Douglas had finally fallen asleep, Helen still remained broad
awake. Things had been said in the heart talk that made it impossible
for her to compose herself to sleep. She could no longer doubt the
truthfulness of Bauer or his clear motive, and strange tumult arose in
her thought over the statement her mother had made about his abandonment
of any thought of her as her suitor. The fact that he had expressed such
a sentiment to her mother made Helen a little angry. Why should he give
up all hope so easily--why--what was she thinking? She said to herself
she did not want men to be cowards, but surely Felix Bauer was not a
coward. A man who would go over a cliff like that did not deserve to
have a timid girl like her call him a coward. Only------
And in the midst of all her other feelings she could not altogether shut
out the sight of Van Shaw, broken and bruised as he had lain in agony
there on the seat in the little chapel and she could not, even after all
her mother had said, quite dismiss him from her thought. Her cheek
glowed, as she raised the question in her imagination, of money and its
fascinating power. Were all young men of wealth like Van Shaw? Would it
never be possible for her to marry wealth and virtue together? And again
there was that strange commingling of shame and exultation as she
realised what a power she possessed to attract even such an one as Van
Shaw, and try as hard as she would she did not drive out the scene of
his declaration that morning. At any rate, it was genuine. Let him be
what he had been, might she not awaken all the latent good in his nature
and save him--her mother's ideas were very strict and serious. They were
perhaps puritanical. But after all------
So she restlessly went back and forth in her argument and only fell
asleep towards morning, her heart and mind wearied with the whole thing.
Before she fell asleep she resolved to have a talk with Miss Gray and
make her tell what she knew. She said to herself she would at least not
dismiss Van Shaw entirely until she knew even more than her mother had
been able to tell her about him.
But before the opportunity came for Miss Gray's confidence, several
unexpected events occurred that made Helen wonder if she were in a land
of enchantment. After what had already become a part of her history in
this strange land, she might be pardoned, if, with her highly romantic
temperament, she felt excited to an unusual degree.
In the first place, Mr. Masters had word, that next morning after the
snake dance, that he was needed imperatively at Tolchaco on account of
the illness of Ansa, old Begwoettins' grandchild. This was Miss Gray's
favourite, and she was eager to return to the mission with Mr. and Mrs.
Masters as soon as possible. Accordingly the fastest team and the
lightest outfit were pressed into service and a short time after
breakfast Mr. and Mrs. Masters and Miss Gray were ready to take the road
by the Oraibi Wash, hoping to make Tolchaco by the next afternoon.
Elijah Clifford wanted to go but it seemed necessary for him to remain
with Mr. and Mrs. Douglas and help pack up for the return trip. Besides,
two of the chuck wagon teams had broken their hobbles in the night and
wandered off into the "indefinite nowhere," as Clifford said, and until
they were found and brought back, it was impossible for the rest of the
party to hitch in and leave Oraibi.
As if Providence had come to the special help of Walter, just before
Masters had finished his preparations to leave, the Navajo runner who
had brought word of Ansa's illness went silently to Walter and handed
him a letter that had reached Tolchaco post office the day the runner
started. It had a special delivery stamp on it to indicate the desire of
the sender for haste, and after reading, Walter rushed over to his
father who was helping Masters hitch up the traces.
"Listen to this, father!" he said in great excitement, while Mrs.
Masters and Miss Gray were getting into the wagon and saying good-bye to
Mrs. Douglas and Helen. "Anderson writes that Blake, the assistant
foreman, is sick, and if I can come on and help him work over the
installation of those new Reimark dynamos before term opens, he can
promise me a good place as second assistant in the coil room this
winter. I know more about the Reimark than Anderson himself and it will
be a fine chance for me. He says I can have full pay for summer term
work. I shall have to start back to Burrton by the first, anyway, and if
Mr. Masters can take me along now, I can get over to Canyon Diablo or
Winslow in time to make the California express and get into Burrton next
week."
Masters gave a quick consent.
"We can take four as well as three. Come on."
Walter rushed his few camp things into his suit case, stowed it under
the seat, kissed his mother and Helen, shook hands with Bauer, who was
able to sit up on his cot in the near by tent, and climbed into the
wagon by the side of Mr. Masters.
Elijah Clifford was not present when all this occurred, and when he came
into camp two hours later trailing the fugitive horses after him,
Masters's wagon was a black speck down by the Oraibi Wash.
Bauer told him of Walter's unexpected return to Tolchaco with Mr.
Masters and Miss Gray.
"Yes, I told you," said Clifford. And for a moment Bauer thought he
could detect a note of pensive regret in his words. "I told you Walter
was lost. It's wonderful what providences there are for some people.
That professor in that school couldn't have figured on getting that
letter here at a more real serviceable opportunity for Walter, if he had
been a real first class magician. And did you say there was a special
delivery stamp on the letter? That beats everything worse than nothing.
That's the first time, I reckon, in five hundred years that a special
delivery stamp was ever used on a Tolchaco letter. And just think of the
way things cogged into the right openings to get that letter there by
special messenger. Well, well, I wouldn't mind being in Walter's place
myself if I didn't feel so necessary here. But Mr. Douglas can't drive
these mustangs back to Tolchaco."
He winked at Bauer good naturedly and hastened to inquire into his
condition.
"I'm black and blue," said Bauer, "but otherwise, sehr gut. This is a
miraculous climate. My hemorrhage is slight, and I don't believe it will
recur. I have no symptoms. I don't want you to delay the return on my
account." Then he added after a pause, "How is Van Shaw?"
"That fellow," said Elijah, "has missed breaking his neck by a miracle.
His collar bone was fractured clear up to the last bone in his spinal
column. Both of his legs were broken below the knee. He must have struck
right on his toes when he fell, and doubled up on himself. He can't move
out of here for some while. But I understand his mother has sent a wire
from Winslow for Mr. Van Shaw to come on from Pittsburgh. She is pretty
well upset by the whole business. She tried to thank me for saving her
son's life and I think she was too hysterical and excited to understand
me when I told her you were the party. She hinted that her husband would
probably deed a railroad or two to me for saving her precious son's
life. If they send the railroad out here I'll turn it over to you. I
don't want it."
"But you did save him," said Bauer with some feeling.
"Well, no, I reckon I just preserved him. You had him saved, and I just
took what you handed over and passed it up. But, what were you doing out
there on the edge of that rock last night, anyhow? I forgot to ask when
I was down there on the ledge and never thought of it again until just
now."
Bauer was spared the embarrassment of trying to satisfy Clifford's good
natured curiosity by the arrival into the tent of Mrs. Douglas,
accompanied by the tourist doctor who had offered his services to both
Bauer and Van Shaw and had fortunately had enough of his repair kit with
him to do all that could be done outside of a well appointed hospital.
He pronounced Bauer to be in good condition and anticipated no
recurrence of the flow for him if he were careful. Van Shaw was in a
more serious case. He was suffering from a nervous shock and would have
to stay where he was for some time. A room had been hired in a small
stone house belonging to the government farmer, and Van Shaw was as
comfortable as he could be under the circumstances. But he was delirious
a part of the time and the doctor evidently believed his condition to be
serious, if not critical.
Helen received the news of all this from her mother when she came back
from Bauer's tent. She was much shocked at the account Mrs. Douglas
gave. And again, as during the night, she found herself dwelling more
over Van Shaw's suffering than Bauer's heroism.
The doctor advised two days' rest for Bauer before starting back to
Tolchaco, so Clifford delayed the preparations for their start and
during that time Talavenka came to see Helen, and Helen, with her
accustomed enthusiasm, suggested to her in Esther's presence, a plan for
going east and completing her education.
Talavenka listened with perfect equanimity to Helen's glowing account of
the opportunities for education in the girls' school at Milton. Then she
said with more than a quiet manner,--it was a poise of all the
faculties, that a white person seldom possesses:
"You are kind, but I ought to stay here with my mother for awhile. She
needs me."
"But would she not be willing to have you go away for a little while
just to gain more power for your people? Mother, would you be willing to
have Talavenka stay with us this winter?"
"I have already talked with your father and Mr. and Mrs. Masters about
Talavenka and we are ready to take her into our home and treat her like
one of our own circle," said Esther, who was chairman of the missionary
committee in her church and a great enthusiast in all forms of
missionary work.
Talavenka turned her black eyes to Mrs. Douglas. Her face shone. The
light of her Christian faith illuminated her countenance like a gleam of
sunshine. It was so marked that both Mrs. Douglas and Helen were
startled by it.
"I do not know how to thank you. But my mother needs me this winter. I
must stay with her."
She said it so gently, with such a complete sense of joyousness and an
absence of all thought of renunciation, that Helen was profoundly moved.
There was no possibility of changing her mind or insisting. There was
something about Talavenka's simple statement that was distinctly final.
When the girl rose to go, Helen noticed the reddish brown water jar that
Talavenka had dropped by the tent opening when she had entered.
"Yes," she said, as she put the jar on her back after passing the cord
through the ears of it, "I am going down to the spring. How glad I am to
be so well. Jesus helps me to bear all things."
She went out and half an hour later, Helen, lying on her cot outside the
tent, saw her again coming up the trail with the swinging trot peculiar
to the Hopi women, the full jar on her back, and she was singing, not
the old song that her mother still sung, but a Christian hymn, "A little
talk with Jesus makes it right, all right."
Helen watched her until she vanished behind the first cluster of grey
houses. Talavenka had gone back to her people for awhile. But her torch
was aflame, the torch of that faith that is destined in time to kindle
the grey rock of Oraibi into a beacon of illumination that shall give
healing and salvation to all those darkened minds and make the desert to
blossom like the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley.
The second day Elijah Clifford and Paul began to pack up, ready to break
camp the following morning and start back to Oraibi. Van Shaw's
condition was not much changed except that he was more rational. This
was a hopeful symptom and the doctor made the most of it, encouraging
Mrs. Van Shaw all he could.
Mr. Van Shaw was expected the next day, coming from Winslow. Van Shaw's
friends, after learning that there was nothing special for them to do,
had already made their plans to leave when the Tolchaco party went,
going in company with Clifford.
Helen was nervous and unhappy. She had begun to brood over matters. Her
mother had not said any more after that night's talk, but she could
easily see that Helen was still going over the same ground, and that the
chapter had not yet been closed for her. The thought gave Esther much
uneasiness and yet she thought it unwise to open the subject again and
so maintained a discreet silence, trusting to absence from the scene and
the return to Milton to do what only time could effect in the girl's
mind.
It lacked an hour or two of the time for departure the next morning when
Mrs. Van Shaw came over to the camp with marks of trouble in her looks
as she came into the tent where Mrs. Douglas and Helen were sitting.
Mrs. Douglas was an energetic camper and had completed her packing early
and was ready for the wagons as soon as the horses had been hitched in.
Mrs. Van Shaw was a showy woman who had done her best to spoil her son
ever since his birth, by giving him everything he wanted, simply because
he asked for it.
On this occasion she came at once to the point of her errand.
"Mrs. Douglas, my boy wants to see Miss Douglas before you go. He says
he wants to say something to her in our presence. He has been begging me
to come and see you all the morning. Can you come over now before you
leave?"
Helen sat up a little higher on her cot, and her cheeks flamed. Mrs.
Douglas looked at her, hesitated, and then answered Mrs. Van Shaw.