THE BLUE FLOWER AND THE BLACK ROCK
“Yes, go, my dear, I don’t want you to sit here alone, so constantly,
or so continually to toil for somebody. Oh! you precious comfort! I
should have died here, in the wilderness, but for your tender care!”
“No, no, Mrs. Burnham. Don’t say that. I was here and I’ve done what
I could. That’s all. It’s so good to know you are getting better!”
answered Carlota, who was far less rosy and gay than when, so many
weeks before, she had reached Camp Burnham, where they still remained.
On the morning after her arrival, Carlota had been awakened by a cry
of alarm, and, half-aroused, had seen Mrs. Burnham unsteadily leaning
against the wagon-end. A second later, the cry of pain was repeated and
she saw the woman fall; and from that moment until now life had seemed
a terrible dream.
The frail Letitia, upon whose cheerful self-sacrifice rested
everybody’s comfort, had suddenly collapsed. An old weakness of the
heart had returned to strike her down at a moment, when it seemed to
her, she could less be spared than ever before.
“Well, I’ve had to lie still. There was no help for it; and again,
my dear, I say that I believe God sent you to me when you came.
Inexperienced child though you were, your devotion and care have saved
me.”
A bed of pine boughs within a tent may not be the most luxurious of
couches, yet had Mrs. Burnham chosen from all the world she could
scarcely have selected a spot more conducive to recovery from such an
illness. She now continued, looking around upon all her dear ones,
clustered before the opening of her tent:
“You have done your helpful share, each one. But I am really much, much
stronger, and I want Carlota to go off with her brother for a long,
delightful day by themselves. Her berry-brown face is getting bleached
by staying indoors--even in a canvas indoors--till it almost matches
her hair. That won’t do. Besides, since we haven’t found here what we
sought, we must move on again very soon. This lovely spot has grown to
be like home to me but--there are others just as fair.”
“Oh! maybe Mr. Burnham will find his ‘lucky stone’ right here,” said
Carlota, radiant at thought of a long quiet day “by themselves” with
her precious brother. She knew, too, by the way he looked at her,
lately, that he had something especial to say to her and only waited
an opportunity to say it. So, taking a little luncheon with her and
promising that they would surely come back before dark, the girl set
off to find her brother, lounging on the rocks below.
“Oh! how nice it is to be alone, quite by our two selves! They are so
good to us, and yet--I--Carlos, do you ever think of Refugio now?”
“Think of it? All the time, almost. I’m as glad as you to come by
ourselves, for we must have a talk. First--which way shall we go?”
“Down the canyon to the bend in it and that other terrible rocky
fork of it. I saw something. Oh! I saw something!” said Carlota,
mysteriously.
With their arms about each other’s shoulders they gayly ran to that
strange rift in the mountain side, which disclosed its heart of rock.
There they sat down upon a jutting boulder to gaze into the awful
depths.
“It’s the most--most fascination place I ever saw.”
“Pooh! Fascinating is what you mean. You quite make me ashamed,
sometimes, Carlota, when you forget to be proper in your speech.”
She accepted the reproof with perfect good humor:
“Do I? That’s too bad. But never mind it now. Carlos, do you see
anything--very wonderful--down in that--abyss? Is that the right word,
darling?”
Not being himself sure he evaded the question.
“It’s the strangest canyon I ever saw. Looks as if some mighty giants
had taken monstrous sledge-hammers and split the mountain in two. As
if all its insides were those curious, dark stones. But such giants,
Carlota! They must have been able to reach to the sky; and their
hammers would, surely, have weighed a thousand thousand tons!”
“O, Carlos! They couldn’t be so big!”
“Did I say they were? I said--do pay attention, Carlota, and not stare
down there so! If you had more imag--imagernation, little sister, you
would have more enjoyment.”
“Would I? Seems you aren’t ‘talking’ much, only finding out things I
ought to do. Carlos, I’m going down to the bottomest bottom of that
place!” and, leaning forward, she pointed toward the awful chasm.
“Hmm. Then I guess we’d best begin to talk. Say, dear, we can go away
now, to find our father.”
“When? And leave poor Mrs. Burnham?”
“Right away. The very next to-morrow that’s coming. She’s ’most well;
she says so; and besides, though you didn’t know it, they are nearly
out of food and have no money to buy more--even if there were a place
to buy it in.” His voice was dramatically earnest.
“Why, there’s all that heap and heap of cans.”
“Empty, Carlota. _All empty!_”
“They can’t be. They’re standing up all tight and straight in that cool
place by the spring. I saw Mr. Burnham fix them.”
“Dear, that was to deceive his wife. True. The cans are empty. We’re
everyone of us so hungry except her, you see, and we’ve eaten and
eaten! There wasn’t much to begin with; and he knows that if she
thought there was danger of the food giving out it would kill her. She
is so very weak. There are the fish, but fish three times a day! I’d
like a chicken, wouldn’t you, Carlota? Or a loaf of Marta’s bread?”
“Don’t, please don’t, brother! I’m so--so--terr’ble homesick!”
“I’m afraid that, even now, Mr. Burnham thinks his wife will never live
to go out of these mountains. He’s all discouraged. Last night he said
to Jack, that if something wasn’t done soon we’d all starve. So _we_
must go away. We’ll find our father, or if not him quick enough, then
somebody else who’ll send them help. Wasn’t it a pity they ever left
Tuttle? There they had enough to eat and, pleasant as it is here, they
were near folks. Mountains are nice, but, Carlota, I like folks best.”
“Well, so do I. But I love mountains, too. I love--I guess I love
everything there is. And I’m going down into that canyon--if I can.
Come with me, because I see something! I see--something--and if we go
away it is my last chance. I promised Paula--Come. Let’s. Now.”
He was willing, for care sat lightly upon him, as upon her; and in
another moment both had forgotten it entirely. For their inspection of
the chasm was hastened by an accident which drove all other matters out
of mind.
There was, apparently, an easy point of descent a few yards from where
they had been sitting, peering over the abyss. Intermingling grasses
and shrubs grew at the top, upon seemingly solid ground; but as they
touched it, still walking hand in hand, it gave way beneath their
weight and they felt themselves slipping, sliding, sinking--they knew
not whither.
Carlota’s face blanched, but she did not cry out. Probably, she did not
realize the extent of their danger as her brother did, for he had grown
more familiar with the region and knew how full it was of “man-traps”
and hidden perils. Yet, at the first instant of danger, his heroism
roused:
“Don’t fear, Carlota! Try--to slide--slow--hold yourself--back--keep
hold of me--and--_Say your prayers, quick!_”
God does not desert those who put their trust in him. The children
reached the end of that terrible slide in safety. The whole downward
passage had been made smooth for them, as it were, by the bed of a once
rapid waterfall. Into this channel had now washed dirt, seeded with
the rich vegetation of the spot. The seeds had found still a little
moisture, had sprung to life, and had thus prepared a natural carpet
over which the imperilled ones passed to the bottom. But, even thus,
their fall was so sudden and swift that, for some time after it was
over they lay crouched and breathless, failing to realize that they
were still unhurt.
Then they looked up and shuddered! At any other point they would,
inevitably, have been torn or mangled. But Carlota’s faith was not
disturbed by this, which her brother saw and suggested.
“But--it _wasn’t_ at any other point, Carlos! It wasn’t. It was just
right there where we would be safe. God knew. He took all the care.
And--Carlos! Carlos, see there! _See there!_”
She forgot her shaken nerves and trembling limbs as she now sprang to
her feet and eagerly pointed forward.
“Well, what, dear? I see nothing but a patch of queer blue blossoms.
You are flower-crazy, I do believe. Was it for them you wanted to come
down?”
“Yes, yes, oh! yes. Why--don’t you yet understand? It is old Paula’s
flower! That always grows where the black stuff is; the stuff which
makes a flame and warms the people! See! There’s some of the stone,
too. Oh! joy, joy! We’ve found what our father said was as good
and benefaction-y as any gold mine! What he was trying to find
for the rich men. This is the flower he told me of, the same kind
that Paula knew. Where it grows--Break off some of the black rock,
brother! Quick! Then let’s get back to the top. We’ve found a mine!
_We--have--found--a--Mine!_”