KNOWLEDGE PROM ABOVE
When Philip awoke, after having swooned at the feet of his comrades
when his rescue was accomplished, he lay in the delicious warmth of his
bunk. The late afternoon sun streamed in at the window over his head,
and Coleman sat watching at his side. Bromley was stirring the fire,
which was burning briskly on the hearth, and the smell of gruel was in
the room. The station flags and the crossed sabers brightened the
space above the chimneypiece. The map hung on the opposite wall, and
over it the old flag with thirty-five stars seemed to have been draped
just where it would first catch his waking eye.
Strangely enough, the immediate cause that awoke Philip was a dull boom
which made the faces of his comrades turn pale, and which was no less
than the fall of the avalanche on which he had passed the night and the
best part of the day before.
Philip, if he heard the sound at all, was not sufficiently awake at the
time to understand its awful meaning; and without noticing the pallor
of his comrades, he weakly put out his hand, which Coleman took in his
own with a warm pressure, and Bromley came over to the side of the bunk
and looked doubtingly into his face. Neither of his comrades uttered a
word.
"Give me the gruel," said Philip; "I was never so hungry before. And
don't look at me so, George; I'm not mad."
After he had eaten, he talked so rationally that Coleman and Bromley
shook each other's hands and laughed immoderately at every slightest
excuse for merriment, but said not a word of the delusion which had so
lately darkened Philip's mind. They were so very jolly that Philip
laughed weakly himself by infection, and then he asked them to tell him
how he had fallen over the mountain without knowing it.
In reply to this question, Coleman told him that he had been sick, and
that he must have walked off the great rock in the thick fog.
Philip was silent for a space, as if trying to digest this strange
information, and then with some animation he said:
"Look here, Fred! The funniest part of this whole dark business was
when I had climbed up to the top of the great bank. There, alongside a
hole in the snow, lay our telescope. When I put out my hand to take
it, it rolled away through the opening in the snow; and the Lord
forgive me, fellows, I heard it ring on the rocks at the bottom of the
Cove."
With this long speech, and without waiting for a reply, Philip fell off
into a gentle doze.
Coleman and Bromley, having no doubt now that Philip's mind was
restored, because he seemed to have no recollection of the princess or
of his strange behavior on the mountain for the year that was past,
were very happy at this change in his condition. As to the telescope,
they regarded its fall as a very dangerous matter, and a catastrophe
which might bring them some unwelcome visitors. But, then, it was
possible that it had fallen among inaccessible rocks, and would never
be found at all. If any one should come to disturb them, they might
hear of some unpleasant facts of which they would rather remain in
ignorance. Now that nearly five years had passed since the great war,
they thought that whoever came would not exult over them in an
unbearable way, or rub insults into their wounds. They knew that some
of the mountaineers had been Union men; and although they would never
seek communication with them, a connection formed against their will
might result to their advantage. They had a good supply of the double
eagles left. Somebody held title to the mountain, they knew; and if
the telescope did bring them visitors, they could buy the plateau from
the deep gorge up, and pay in gold for it handsomely, too. Then they
could send down their measures to a tailor and have new uniforms made
to the buttons they had saved--that is, if the tailor was not a
secessionist too hot-headed to soil his hands with the uniform of the
old, mutilated, and disgraced Union. Then, too, they could buy seeds
and books and a great many comforts to make their lives more enjoyable
on the mountain.
And so it came about that, when month after month passed and nobody
came, the three soldiers were rather disappointed. They resolved to
save what remained of their minted and milled coins against any
unforeseen chance they might have to put them in circulation; and now
that they thought of it, it would have been much wiser to have melted
the coins of the United States and saved the English guineas. If,
however, the world had not changed greatly since they left it, they
believed the natives in the valley below would accept good red gold if
the face of the old boy himself was stamped on the coin.
When Philip was quite himself again, by reason of his knowledge of
milling he took entire control of the golden mill. In the cold weather
his old overcoat was dusty with meal, as a miller's should be; and in
the summer days plenty of the yellow dust clung to the hairs on his
arms and in his thin red beard.
It is a Sunday morning in September again, and, to be exact with the
date,--for it was a very important one in their history,--it is the
fifth day of the month in the year '70. The three soldiers are
standing together by the door of the mill, dressed very much as we last
saw them there, and engaged in an animated conversation.
"An egg," said Lieutenant Coleman, facing his two comrades, and
crossing his hands unconsciously over the great "A" on the back of his
canvas trousers, "as an article of food may be considered as the
connecting-link between the animal and the vegetable. If we had to
kill the hen to get the egg, I should consider it a sin to eat it.
What we have to do, and that right briskly, is to eat the eggs to
prevent the hens from increasing until they are numerous enough to
devour every green thing on the mountain."
"I am not so sure of that," said Philip, toying with his one dusty
suspender; "we could feed the eggs to the bear."
"We could, but we won't," said Bromley, shaking some crumbs from the
front of his gown. "When nature prompts a hen to cackle, do you think
we are expected to look the other way? Why, Philip, you will be going
back on honey next because bees make it. We are vegetarians because we
no longer think it right to destroy animal life. We not only think it
wrong to destroy, but we believe it to be our duty to preserve it
wherever we find it. Don't we spread corn on the snow in the winter
for the coons and squirrels? Come, now! We are not vegetarians at
all. We are simply unwilling to take life, which leaves us to choose
between vegetable diet and starvation. Now, then," said Bromley,
spreading out his bare arms and shrugging his shoulders, "of the two, I
choose a vegetable diet; but if I could eat half a broiled chicken
without injury to the bird, I'd do it. That's the sort of vegetarian I
am."
"Nonsense!" said Philip. "You're a dabster at splitting hairs, you
are. It was uphill work making a vegetarian of you, George; but we
have got you there at last, and you can't squirm out of it."
"Give it to him, Phil!" cried Coleman. "Hit him on the salt!"
"Exactly!" continued Philip, taking a swallow of water from a golden
cup, and addressing himself to Bromley. "When the salt was gone you
thought you'd never enjoy another meal, didn't you?--and how is it now?
You are honest enough to admit that you never knew what a keen
razor-edge taste was before. I'll bet you a quart of double eagles,
George, that you get more flavor out of a dish of common--"
At that moment a bag of sand came through the branches of the tree
which shaded the three soldiers as they talked. There was a dark
shadow moving over the sunlit ground, and a rushing sound in the air
above. Their own conversation, and the noise of the water pouring from
the trough over the idle wheel and splashing on the stones, must have
prevented their hearing human voices close at hand. Rushing out from
under the trees, they saw a huge balloon sweeping over their heads.
The enormous bag of silk, swaying and pulsating in the meshes of the
netting, was a hundred feet above the plateau; but the willow basket,
in which two men and one woman were seated, was not more than half that
distance from the ground. The surprise, the whistling of the monster
through the air, the snapping and rending of the drag-rope with its
iron hook, which was tearing up the turf, and which in an instant more
scattered the shingles on the roof of their house like chaff, and
carried off some of their bedding which was airing there--all these
things were so startling, and came upon them so suddenly, that they had
but short opportunity to observe the human beings who came so near them.
[Illustration: "RUSHING OUT FROM UNDER THE TREES, THEY SAW A HUGE
BALLOON SWEEPING OVER THEIR HEADS."]
Brief as the time was, the faces of the three strangers were indelibly
impressed upon their memory, and no portion of their dress seen above
the rim of the basket escaped their observation. The woman, who
appeared to be perfectly calm and self-possessed, kissed her hand with
a smile so enchanting, lighting a face which seemed to the soldiers to
be a face of such angelic beauty, that they half doubted if she could
really belong to the race of earthly women they had once known so
intimately. The men were not in like manner attractive to their eyes,
but seemed to be of that oily-haired, waxy-mustached, beringed, and
professorish variety which suggested to them chiropodists or small
theatrical managers.
Notwithstanding the rushing and creaking of the cordage, the voices of
the men in the balloon had that peculiar quality of distinctness that
sound has on a lowery morning before a storm. Indeed, each voice above
them had a vibration of its own which enabled the soldiers to hear all
commingled and yet to hear each separately and distinctly. The hurried
orders for the management of the balloon were given in subdued tones,
and uttered with less excitement than might have been expected in the
circumstances, yet the words came to the earth with startling
distinctness.
When they saw the soldiers, the taller of the men, who wore the larger
diamond in his shirt-front, put his hand to his mouth and cried in
deafening tones:
"'Skylark,' from Charleston, 3:30 yesterday."
At the same time the beautiful lady, laying her hand on her breast as
if to indicate herself, uttered the words:
"New York! New York!"
Even while they spoke, their voices grew softer as the balloon sped on,
the great gas-bag inclined forward by the action of the drag-rope, and
its shadow flying beneath it over the surface of the plateau. As soon
as the two professors saw the danger which threatened the log house,
they began to throw out sand-bags from the car, and the lady clung with
both hands to the guy-ropes. It was too late, however, to prevent the
contact, and the lurch given to the basket by the momentary hold which
the grappling-hook took in the roof of the house threw several objects
to the ground, and on its release the balloon rose higher in the air,
having a "U.S." blanket streaming back from the end of the drag-rope.
The property they were bearing away was seen by the men in the car, and
the rope was taken in with all speed; but a fresh breeze having set in
from the east, the balloon was swept rapidly along, so that it was well
beyond the plateau when the blanket fluttered loose from the hook.
The soldiers ran after it with outstretched arms until they came to the
edge of the great boulder, where they saw their good woolen blanket
again, still drifting downward with funny antics through the air, until
it fell noiselessly at the very door of the Cove postmaster.
The balloon itself was by this time soaring above the mountains beyond
the Cove, and they kept their eyes on the receding ball until it was
only a speck among the clouds and then vanished altogether into the
pale blue of the horizon.
The soldiers had not seen the objects tumble out of the car when the
drag-rope caught in the shingles of their house, and the thoughts of
their wrecked roof and lost blanket had the power for the moment to
displace even the image of the beautiful lady, whom they could never,
never forget. The passage of the balloon had at first dazed and awed,
and then charmed and bewildered them, leaving them in a state of
trembling excitement impossible for the reader to conceive of.
They no longer had the telescope with which to observe the surprise of
the Cove postmaster when he found the gray blanket with "U.S." in the
center; but they had the presence of mind to get behind trees, where
they waited until he came out. He looked very small in the distance
when he came at last, but they could see that the object was a man. It
was evident, from his not having been out before, that he had not seen
the balloon pass over. He seemed to stoop down and raise the blanket,
and then to drop it and stand erect, and by a tiny flash of light which
each of the soldiers saw and knew must be the reflection of the sun on
his spectacles, they were sure he was looking at the top of the
mountain and thinking of the east wind. There was no help for it; and
when he disappeared into the office with their blanket, they chinked
the gold in their pockets; for they carried coin with them now, and
thought that an opportunity might soon come for them to spend it. As
they moved away in the direction of the house, they were sorry that the
drag-rope of the balloon had not fastened its hook in the plateau; for
they believed they were rich enough to buy the coats off the backs of
the two men, and the diamonds in their shirt-fronts if they had cared
for them.
As the three soldiers neared the house, they began, picking up the
sand-bags, stenciled "Skylark, 1870." Philip, who was in the advance,
had secured three, which he suddenly threw down into the grass with a
cry of joy; for at their feet lay a book with an embellished green
cover. The three were almost as much excited as they had been when
they discovered the contents of the keg which they had dug out of the
grave of the old man of the mountain, and instantly had their heads
together, believing that they were about to learn something of the
condition of the old United States, and even fearing they might read
that they no longer existed at all. They were so nervous that they
fumbled at the covers and hindered one another; and between them, in
their haste, they dropped it on the ground. When they had secured it
again and got their six eyes on the title-page, imagine their surprise
and disgust when they read, "A Treatise on Deep-Sea Fishing"!
"Bother deep-sea fishing!" exclaimed Philip.
"Hum!" said Coleman, "it will work up into paper for the diary."
Bromley said nothing, but looked more disgusted than either of his
comrades, and gave the book, which they had dropped again, a kick with
his foot.
Their disappointment was somewhat relieved presently, for in the chips
by the door of the house they found a small hand-bag of alligator
leather marked with three silver letters, "E.Q.R." The key was
attached to the lock by a ribbon; and as soon as the bag could be
opened, Coleman seized upon another small book which was called "The
Luck of Roaring Camp." The author was one Francis Bret Harte, of whom
they had never heard before. The book was a new one, for it bore
"1870" on the title-page, and the leaves were uncut except at a
particular story entitled "Miggles."
Besides this book the bag contained numerous little trinkets, among
which the most useful article was a pair of scissors. They found three
dainty linen handkerchiefs with monograms, a cut-glass vinaigrette
containing salts of ammonia, a rag of chamois-skin dusty with a white
powder, a tooth-brush, and a box of the tooth-powder aforesaid, a brush
and comb, a box of bonbons, a pair of tan-colored gloves, a
button-hook, and an opened letter addressed to Elizabeth Q. Rose, No.
165 West 130th street, New York city.
The letter bore the postmark, "Liverpool, August 12," and was stamped
at the New York office, "August 20, 8 P.M." Here was evidence of
progress. _Eight days from Liverpool to New York!_
The envelop had been torn off at the lower right-hand corner in
opening, so that it was impossible to tell whether the letters "U.S."
or "C.S." had been written below "New York." The soldiers cut the
leaves of the book, and glanced hurriedly over the pages without
finding anything to clear up the mystery which interested them most.
They sat down on the woodpile, sorely disappointed, to talk over the
events of the morning; and presently they began clipping off their long
beards with the scissors, and using the brush and comb, to which their
heads had so long been strangers. The experience was all so strange
that but for the treasures left behind, not counting the "Treatise on
Deep-Sea Fishing," they might have doubted the reality of the passage
of their aërial visitor.
When it came to a division of the trifles of a lady's toilet, the
well-known prejudice of the world below concerning a second-hand
tooth-brush was cast to the winds by Bromley, while Lieutenant Coleman,
who had some qualms of conscience, was better satisfied with the rag of
chamois-skin for the same purpose. The vinaigrette and the gloves fell
to Philip. They had just a handkerchief apiece, and nobody cared for
the button-hook.
The letter found in the bag was a subject of heated discussion, and
from motives of chivalrous delicacy remained for a long time unread.
George Bromley contended that its contents might throw some light on
the subject which the books had left in obscurity, while Lieutenant
Coleman shrank from offering such an indignity to the memory of the
angelic lady of the air. It was finally agreed that Bromley might
examine and then destroy it, Lieutenant Coleman declining to be made
acquainted with its contents.
They never quite understood the association of the beautiful lady with
the two men, of whom they had but a poor opinion. When Bromley
suggested that to their starved eyes a cook might seem a princess, his
comrades were sufficiently indignant, and reminded him of her literary
taste, as shown by the quality of the new book found in the bag.
After all, they had learned nothing of the great secret that vexed
their lives. Was there still in existence a starry flag bearing any
semblance to this one which was now floating over the mountain? Was it
still loved in the land and respected on the sea?
To men who had seen it bent forward under the eagles of the old
republic, gray in the stifling powder-clouds, falling and rising in the
storm of battle, a pale ghost of a flag, fluttering colorless on the
plain or climbing the stubborn mountain, human lives falling like
leaves for its upholding--this was the burning question.