THE TRAIL OF ONE
Fear and hate and love eats up the miles even as the sun eats up the
white mist of the morning. But the distance that was between the two men
neither increased nor diminished; it became terribly hot, and the going
was arduous. Tough, spiky bushes covered the plain to the height of a
man’s knee but they seemed less to grow out of the deep, shifting dust,
than to be stuck into it.
The progress the men made was rather by a succession of leaps than by
straight running. It was like trying to make speed over an unequal beach
covered with knee-deep water, and it told upon them fearfully.
A hot wind was blowing with fierce gusts. Sometimes it sent spinning
columns of dust high into the air, and with the same breath destroyed
them and hurled the dust fragments into the faces of the men. Now and
again, above the gusting of the wind, the pulseless, clicking, singing
signals of rattle snakes could be heard.
As the day advanced, black clouds shot with lightning began to bank up
in the West, and thunder no louder than the purring of a cat made itself
heard. And still the men staggered on, but their speed now was no more
than that of a fast walk.
Their throats and the roofs of their mouths were as if calcined by
fire; their eyes were red, burnt and dry. And those two valiant feet of
Sunrise, Hate and Love, began to doubt each other. “It may be,” they
said, “that Fear is stronger than we.” But they went on, bleeding and
bruised. And it was not otherwise with the feet of Fear. “We are done
for,” they said. But they went on.
And now the black, thunder-bearing clouds, rushing up from the west, came
between the sun and the plain, darkened the bushes and the dust and the
figures of the men. But the heat did not diminish. And the men crept on.
Between them the distance was now no more than the half of a mile.
Their pace had become that of children learning to walk. But of the two
children Sunrise was the more advanced in walking. And the world grew
darker, the wind began to howl, and a continuous cloud of stinging dust
smote into their faces.
There was no longer any blue sky, for the black thunder clouds had
covered it from one horizon to the other, and the mountains themselves
were hidden. The plain was like the floor of a great dark cave, and
in the midst of it were two little children that stumbled forward,
staggered, fell, and rose again. But Hate and Love was stronger than
their brother Fear, and he staggered to more purpose, and he did not fall
so often.
And presently he began to call upon Fear to stop and face him.
It was then that the whole cave was filled with a blue glare that shook
and was more bright than the light of the sun. And at the same moment
there was a detonation of thunder, more loud and terrible than the
falling-in upon themselves of mountains. And the hearts of the men stood
still in their breasts.
And long after the darkness had closed in again, their eyes were filled
with the shaking blue glare, and their ears with the thunder.
There was a long hush—even the wind ceased. Then again the glare—but more
bright, and again the thunder, but more terrible. And glare followed
glare, and the thunder became continuous, and the wind came with
redoubled fury, and the dust rose in clouds and hid the men, the one from
the other.
Then came the rain, but not in drops and jets. Its fall was more like
that of a solid, and the whole earth rose in smoke to meet it. The
blackness was now like the blackness of night, and a man could no longer
see the distance that is between two trees standing in a thick forest.
Sunrise lay upon his face, and sobbed in the storm, for he made sure that
his vengeance would escape him. He did not feel the cold rain on his
parched body; he no longer feared the lighting and the thunder. Time and
again he rose and tried to pierce the blackness of the storm. But the
man was hidden.
Now the curtain of the elements that was breaking the heart of one man,
was as a mighty stimulant to the feet of the other, and he made a crafty
turn and went forward.
The rain and the cool refreshed him and he made sure that he would escape.
But he was too crafty by a half, for he lost his way in that storm, and
after a little, with triumphant and relieved heart, he staggered straight
into the place, that of all places in the world he was most anxious to
avoid. And that was the place where Hate and Love stood with Despair and
sought to pierce the storm.
A few feet away, through the smoking deluge of the rain, Sunrise saw the
crouching figure of a man. It was outlined in a white steam, and was
coming on. At first Sunrise could not realize that it was The Man. When
he did he smiled peacefully and he stepped forward, and taking the man
gently by the shoulder turned his face upward and looked upon it long,
and quietly.
When the man felt the hand on his shoulder, and saw the face that
regarded him, hope that had sustained him perished. His fingers twitched
foolishly, and after a little, he sobbed once, and shivered and was
still. Then he collapsed and fell.
Sunrise sat down beside him.
“We must rest for a while,” said Sunrise, “I have not now the strength to
do that which I have come to do.”
The man nodded.
And after that, for a long time, no word was spoken and no sign made.
The man lay on the ground breathing hard, and Sunrise sat beside him. The
rain fell drenchingly upon them. About them the storm raged, and above.
“Put your feet close together,” said Sunrise, when he was rested enough.
“I am going to tie you.”
So the man put his feet close together, and Sunrise bound them with the
thongs that had bound Dawn. “Now lie on your breast,” said Sunrise, “and
cross your hands upon your back.” And he bound the hands.
Sunrise turned the man over, and after that the man kept his eyes on
Sunrise, to see what he was minded to do.
For hours screams pierced the storm, and could be heard above thunder.
[Illustration]