The Shadow of a great rock

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. — What Manner of Men . . 1

II.— The Woman .... 35

II

ONLY once in the night did Mark awaken, startled for a moment by the shrill, wailing cry of a pack of hungry coj'otes, that were pursuing their hunt along the crest of the bluff above his retreat. When they had gone on their way, leaving behind a faint trail of ghostly sound, he lay for a little time, turning in his bed, burro^\dng deeper into the mould. It was near the hour of three. The silence was profound, save for the palpitant chirring of myriad nocturnal insects and the whisper of the slow midsummer night wind in the leafage overhead. The sounds lulled him like friendly voices; his senses were cloyed with a delicious weariness, and T\athout effort or care he sank back into dreamless sleep.

When he awoke again the world about him was briUiant with the glory of dawn. The great river had lost its midnight aspect of terror and appeared as a wide expanse of shimmering gold, mirroring the beaut}^ of the morning. Throwing off his clothes he leaped into the water, swimming to the sand-bar and back again, coming out upon the bank refreshed and vigorous and desperately hungry- From his pocket he brought a small roll of oilskin, securely wrapped and tied, holding a bundle of matches, and kindled a fire of leaves and dried twigs against the body of a fallen log. The next thing Avas breakfast.

Scores of birds were in a riot of song in the trees and undergrowth near at hand — jays, thi'ushes, and many others whose names he did not know. A fullbreasted lark perched upon a swaying branch at the stream's edge close by, tempting him. He raised his pistol against it, but then, obeying a formless impulse, he let the weapon fall. From the same deep pocket he drew a coil of stout fishing-hne, furnished with a dozen hooks. With his clasp-knife he dug into the crumbling heart of a rotting stump until he had found a handful of fat white grubs ; and with these he baited his hooks, then cast the line into a deep, still pool close against the bank, fastening the shoreward end to a bush and leaving it to the care of good fortune while he prepared a bed of embers. He laughed as he realised his odd situation.

" I need a square meal, bad," he said aloud, " and all the money I 've got could n't buy one over here, I reckon. I hope to heaven luck don't fool me."

Luck played him no tricks. When his fire was ready and he went down to look at his line, he found it drawn taut, cutting the water in wide, sweeping plunges, back and forth. He hauled in upon it, hand over hand, and drew to the bank a huge catfish. In a few minutes he had thick steaks cut from the firm, sweet flesh, impaled on twigs of green hickory and set to broil over the coals.

Never was better breakfast than that, eaten at the edge of the woodland in the first sunlight of the summer day, savoured only by spicy wood-smoke and by the sauce of a lusty young appetite. He ate as though he would never get enough, slice after slice, stepping dowTi to the river bank sometimes to dip up the cool water in the hollow of his doubled hands, drinking deeply and washing his eyes free of the smart of the smoke.

His meal was still far from ended when he heard a movement in the underwood on the hillside above, dra\^dng nearer; and a stalwart young Indian appeared, naked to the waist, wearing only rawhide moccasins and breeches of deerskin. His face, brown, aquiline, seamed even in its youth by exposure, was grave, sombre, yet wearing that fine dignity which marks the race born in untrammelled freedom and suckled at the breast of the good earth, but which passes quickly into bestial grossness once the race has so much as touched the hem of the garment of civilisation. This man was still a wildling; a beautiful figure, lithe, erect, calm, but with an air upon him of deep melancholy; for he was of the Omahas, the tribe that had just been led into reluctant surrender of its lands to the white invaders. A little longer and the Omahas would be driven to find a new home.

The man's sudden appearance gave Mark a momentary uneasiness; but that feeling passed directly; for, seeing what Mark was about, the Indian came closer, sitting down cross-legged beside the fire and showing by a sign that he would join in the meal. Mark laughed again, lightly, over the humour of it.

"Say, whose treat is this, anyway?" he said. "Am I your company or are you mine? But it don't matter much, so long as there 's enough to go 'round." Willingly he gave a generous portion of the broiled fish to the Omaha, who ate hungrily, while Mark went on with his own breakfast, keeping an unfailing supply over the coals.

No further word was spoken while they ate; there seemed to be no need, for without speech they held perfect communion of understanding. When the Indian had finished, he sat for a time motionless, regarding Mark with steadfast eyes; then in unbroken silence he arose abruptly and disappeared amongst the trees.

Mark waited only to roll up his fishingline before he set off for the scene of the new day's action, at the ferry-crossing above. His night's swim had carried him for a long distance down-stream, and the walk back was hard, leading over steep, rough hills, and through pathless tangles of bush and vine. But he came at last to the summit of a bolder crest and looked down upon the broad, shining ribbon of the river, with Council Bluffs showing faint in the distance through the morning haze that was over the water, and below, seeming almost at his feet on the western shore, the rude beginning of the new Omaha City.

A bare half-dozen log huts stood at wide intervals and without order on the level bench of land above the river-bottom ; these made the town. The axe had not yet touched the thick growths of timber that began with the first uplift of the hill-slopes; far as the eye could see there was no least mark of husbandry. Yet the scene held a mighty meaning; it was the first budding of that conquest which was destined to sweep, in fire and blood and passion, over the full, vast breadth of the wilderness. Across the narrow bench-land, and winding sinuously, away amongst the hills to the westward, ran the line of the Great Salt Lake Trail, a mere thread of dusty grey against the vivid green of the plain, fainter and fainter, and melting from sight into the heart of the unmeasured distances.

Although it was hardly more than an hour past sunrise, already many people had crossed from the Iowa shore ; the clear spaces in the village were dotted with their white-covered waggons, strewn with their belongings, quick with their eager movements as they went about, reconnoitring. The clumsy ferry-barge was in mid-stream, its deck sunk nearly to the water's edge beneath its load of waggons, beasts, and men coming to join those on the Nebraska side. On the trail, near the river, a score of waggons were drawn up in line, headed westward, making ready to begin the long journey across the plains; and as Mark looked, other waggons were crawling slowly in toward this centre from many directions, to take their places in the hne.

As Mark walked down and moved about from camp to camp, looking on, his first elation of the morning was oddly tempered by dismay. His own part in the great drama that was acting itself out before his eyes was not yet fixed ; strength or weakness, victory or failure — these were as yet no more than words in the unread lines. The enthusiasm of the home-makers was alien to his present temper. There was no reason why he should think of a home; he must do other things first — make a place for himself in affairs and get on speaking terms with his fate. For two long hours he loitered, seeing no familiar face, the sense of his isolation growing.

Then suddenly he came upon Cannon — ^big, healthful, red of beard and blood, radiant with the glow of bodily action. He had made camp at the edge of the woods behind the town, by the side of a tiny stream, and had at once given himself a task. Even at this early hour a dozen trees had been felled, the trimmed trunks dragged together, the branches and undergrowth piled high for burning. A canvas-covered prairie waggon, heavily laden, stood near by, and mules were grazing in the thick pasturage beside the rivulet. Cannon, hatless and coatless, his flannel shirt wet with sweat from neck to waist, was swinging his axe with all his vigour against a stalwart elm, scattering a wide shower of chips; and his wife moved contentedly about the camp, cheery, housewifely, seeming perfectly at home with only the open sky for a roof and the hills for walls.

When the tree fell, Cannon paused for a time, seating himself upon the prostrate trunk, wiping the sweat from his hot face upon the sleeve of his shirt. Then he caught sight of Mark, who stood apart at a little distance.

"Hello, there, Bailey!" he called in hearty, thunderous greeting. " I 've been wondering about you. Where you been? Come over here an' sit down. You ain't hardly made camp anywhere, have you? Well, this one 's yours, till you find something better. Dinner '11 be comin' along, after a while; a young turkey — shot it first thing after I got up here. Say, Molly, this is young Bailey, that I was tellin' you about ; him that 's goin' to be with the outfit. Throw in some dinner for him, will you ? "

She gave Mark a frank welcome, offering her hand — a large, firm, strong hand, whose pressure was warm, satisfying. There was a comfortable sort of grace about her, and the promise of an unusual capability — the power to meet serenely and to triumph over the hard facts of practical living. Those were the qualities of the best of the pioneer women of the West. Meeting the kindly glance of her eyes, feeling the kindly touch of her hand, INIark warmed to her instinctively, knowing that he had found a friend.

She spoke a word or two of quiet, hospitable commonplace, then went on with her w^ork, while Mark seated himself at Cannon's side upon the trunk of the fallen tree.

" You 've begun to do things in a hurry," he hinted, as his glance wandered about the little clearing, that had already subtly gathered something of the atmosphere of home.

"This?" Cannon returned, with an inclusive gesture. " Oh, I 'm just killin'

time with this, till we get ready to pull out west. I never was one that could set an' wiggle my thumbs while I 'm waitin' ; I 've got to be doin' somethin' busy. There 's a month yet, anyway ; an' this '11 pay fii'st-rate. Land 's sure to be worth a heap around here, when things get to goin'. Lemme tell you this, Bailey: the way to stack up a winner out here is to miss no chances. You want to keep your eyes peeled an' busy every minute, an' whenever you see a chance stick its head up, hop onto it, all spraddled out, an' grab hold of it with both hands an' all the teeth you got, an' hold on. See? Say, why don't you do like I 'm doin,' an' pick you out a claim? Get a piece o' land, and put up a shack on it, like I 'm doin', an' you '11 feel like you 'd kind o' struck root, this side the river. Here 's this piece right west o' mine, that nobody 's took yet. You could n't do better," he added, with his big, wholesome laugh. " Fine climate, right on the creek, an' good neighbours. What more do you want?

Come on; T '11 show you how to stake it out."

JNIark echoed his laugh, but a little doubtfully. " I don't know anything about making a claim," he demurred.

"Well, learn!" Cannon retorted. " That 's what we 're here for. There 's no land-office open yet; but get j'^our stakes drove, an' start to doin' things, like you belonged there, an' nobody '11 bother you. We 've got to respect each other's rights, or the thing won't hang together. Get you an axe out o' my waggon an' come ahead ; we '11 cut your stakes up the creek a ways."

INIark followed the giant's impetuous lead, because he could not help it; Cannon's brusque enthusiasm dominated him, making it seem that his own will was turned blunt at the edge and of only minor service. When at noontime he sat down to share the outdoor dinner at Cannon's camp, the stakes were already set that made him a landholder, and the day had gained a new zest. The meal, served upon the ground in primitive, homely fashion, was prolonged far beyond the time needful, while they talked. Cannon knew no more of the future than did ]\Iark, but there was a quality in his robust will which had almost the force and virtue of prescience.

" There 's everything to do yet," he declared. " There 's towns to build, hke this one '11 be, clear from here to the coast, an' freightin' to do, like the scheme we 've started, an' army contracts, for them soldiers out on the plains yonder- — everything like that. There '11 be thousands an' thousands of people in the country by next year, soon as they hear what it 's like, an' somebodj^ 's got to feed 'em an' do for 'em. That 's where we win by bein' here first. I should n't wonder if sometime there 'd be a railroad, an' somebody 's got to build it. Somebody 's got to do everything that 's done. Do you see? All you need is to stay awake an* keep your nerve healthy."

While they lingered, Forrester came sauntering leisurely up to the camp. If the morning had held its doubts or puzzles for him, they had left no mark upon him; his manner was that of an unruffled, amused composure. A change had come to him since the night before; the effects of his whiskey were gone, and the change for the better was very marked.

" Hello, Mark! " he said. " What became of you? When did you come over? "

" Last night," ]\Iark laughed. " I swam."

" Swam ! " Forrester echoed, incredulous. " Swam the Missouri — at midnight, and midsummer high water? But I believe you! " He threw himself at his length upon the grass in the grateful shadow of the elms, his arms and legs outstretched, his fine face alight. " My soul! what's got into all the people?" he cried. "Are you all moonstruck? When I got awake this morning, there sat Frick with his maps — busy. I tried to find Cannon, to loaf with him awhile.

and he 'd been over here for an hour. There was n't a man at the Bluffs that could spare the time to sit down and smoke with me. It 's even worse on this side ; everybody 's in a tearing, mad hurry. And now you tell me you swam the river in the middle of the night. For what? What is it you 're all trying to do?"

It was Mrs. Cannon's smooth, comfortable voice that answered.

"Aren't you asking too much, when you ask them to explain? I don't suppose they could. Not many people know what they 're really trying to do."

Forrester turned to her with his frank, engaging smile. " You mean that it 's destiny?" he returned. "Maybe it is; but if it is, destiny 's no friend of mine. I can't understand why destiny must always make folks excited and noisy, instead of letting them be decent and quiet and restful. That 's so much nicer, Mrs. Cannon."

Cannon snorted with impatience.

"Anybody 'd know from that," he growled, " that you ain't struck a hck all morning."

" I have n't struck a lick all morning," Forrester agreed imperturbably. " I 'm not going to strike a lick all afternoon, nor to-morrow, nor the next day. Why should I strike hcks? I 'm opposed to striking licks. It overheats the blood, for one thing ; and then I might make a misslick and knock down something that somebody else would rather not have knocked down. Don't you see? "

Cannon was pulling at his beard and regarding the boy with a puzzled frown. " I msh somebody 'd tell me what made you come to this country," he said.

"And I wish they 'd tell mef' Forrester retorted. " I don't know. I thought at first it was the chance of getting some more money that brought me, but I know better. I don't want any more money. I did n't come for amusement ; I don't hke my amusements quite so raw. I guess

I just blew out because the wind was setting this way."

But this inconsequent hghtness of mood was put aside a Httle later, when he and Bailey had separated from Cannon and were walking toward the scene of Mark's afternoon labour. Then Forrester said, in perfect seriousness:

" I wonder if I 'm as much of a fool as I think I am. If that 's so, it 's a desperate case. Mark, I 'd give half of what I Ve got if I could find out what 's the matter with me. There's something wrong. To save my poor soul, I can't get up any enthusiasm about anything. I can't lose myself in anything I do or I don't beheve I ever had any. I thought think. I have n't worn out my emotions ; it would be different out here, maybe; but it isn't. This thing seems so wonderfully real and worth while to you and Cannon and Frick and all the rest. It does n't to me. I don't care a damn for it, and I wish I had n't come."

Mark regarded his friend curiously.

only half understanding, and wholly unable to sympathise. His own healthy soul knew no such disorder.

" I reckon you '11 find something real enough to think about when we get out on the trail," he hinted.

" Trail! " Forrester echoed with a mild disgust. " I 'm not going west with the outfit. There 's nothing that would hire me to spend months in the middle of that big waste. I 'd lose what little mind I 've got. I 'm going to stay down here, where I can make a pretence of looking after the company's interests along the river, and where I can keep comfortably drunk." He broke off with a short laugh that was quite without mirth. " Drunk ! " he repeated. " God bless the man who found out whiskey! Don't look so scared. I tell you, whiskey has floated me through some bad days. It 's given me the only understanding I 've ever had of how I think a man ought to feel. If I can manage to keep just about so much whiskey circulating in me, without letting it die out, I can ahnost forget what a farce my life is."

They had reached the spot which Cannon had suggested for the site of the cabin, and while he listened Mark was preparing to begin his work. Forrester took the axe from his hand and swamg it awkwardly, until with laborious effort he had felled one of the smaller saplings. Then, hot and short of breath, he let the axe drop.

" I suppose that 's what Cannon calls * striking a lick,' " he said, with evident distaste. "No, thank you; that's enough for me."

He lay down again upon the grass, made himself lazily comfortable, and fell easily asleep, while IVIark set to his task with vigour. He was almost a stranger to the ways of woodcraft, and inexpert with his tools ; but his bodily strength was great, and he found an unsuspected satisfaction in the new use of that strength toward a definite end. His future might be uncertain, but tliis day amply sufficed unto itself. When Forrester awoke, at the end of the afternoon, he saw a goodly pile of logs, trimmed and hewn for building.

" Have you done all that, while I 've been asleep?" Forrester queried. "And you've enjoyed it too, I suppose? Oh, it 's no use, Mark, I 've got in clear bej^ond my depth. I don't belong here."

They ate their supper at Cannon's camp, and afterward, though bodily weariness weighed heavily upon Mark, he walked with Forrester do^vn to the teeming centre of the new town, where the people were relaxing a little after the tension of the day. Fires were shining here and there, and folk were gathered about them, talking, laughing, singing, meeting with one another on terms of a fine, free intimacy. There was a dauntless optimism upon them; the atmosphere was that of .a holiday, rather than a day of grave portent. They knew well enough that their ways were to be hard, yet they faced the knowledge with an exultant courage. Watching their faces, catching stray scraps of their talk, touching elbows, as it were, with their indomitable spirit, he felt for them a strong and abiding kinship.

He and Forrester did not offer to join any of the groups, though a welcome awaited them everywhere, but were content with the part of onlookers, passing slowly onward toward the river front, where the newer arrivals were gathered, making such shift as they could to meet the oncoming night. There ^lark halted suddenly, and his heart quickened its beat; for his ej^es were resting upon the face of the woman he had seen asleep, the night before, on the Iowa shore — the face which had hovered over him, a new constellation, as he lay in his own bed under the trees.

She was walking slowly back and forth beside the camp-fire, carr^'^ing in her arms a fretful child, crooning a soft lullabj'-, trying to hush the babe to sleep. About her was the disorder of a new-made camp ;

cooking utensils were scattered near the fire, with the remains of the recent supper. Save for the httle creature held against her breast, the girl was alone.

Each time she passed the fire there was a brief moment when her fair face was touched and illumined by the ruddy glow, thrown into rehef like an exquisite cameo against the background of darkness. Mark stood for a little time, his hand upon Forrester's arm to detain him, his eyes intent upon her, waiting eagerly, impatiently, for each next succeeding instant's revelation of her gentle sweetness; and as he watched, again his thoughts were suffused with tenderness.

" Wait a minute, Jack," he said, after a time, and stepped quietly to her side. " You have more than j^our share," he said softly. "Let me take the baby; I can quiet him."

She turned to face him, a little startled, raising her beautiful, calm eyes to his. " It 's the way, out here, to help each other," he went on, trying to be very matter-of-fact; but in the very next breath his feeHng was not so well restrained. " You don't know me; but I feel almost as though we were acquainted. I saw you, last night, over at the Bluffs, and I wondered if I should ever see j^ou again."

Her glance fell at that, and a sudden warm flush of embarrassment came to her cheeks. But she did not resist when he put out his strong arms for the child. The downy little head fell at once against his broad shoulder, and the fretful cry ceased with a long sigh. The girl's momentary air of confusion passed, and she smiled with frank relief as she put up her small hands to brush back from her forehead the curling masses of her gold-brown hair.

" I was n't afraid of you," she said, her smile persisting, her voice soft and rich and tranquil. " I 'm not yet used to your goodness, here in the new country; that 's all. There is such a lot to do ! " she added, with a half-hopeless glance around the confusion of the camp. " The baby's mother went with her husband, after supper, to look about a Httle and get ready for to-morrow, and my brother has n't come over the river yet."

"Your brother?" Mark echoed; and there came to his memory the image of the dark-browed, sinister face of the man who had appHed to Cannon for work the night before, at the Boltwood store. He had said something about his sister. " Tell me, is your name Braidlaw? " Mark asked abruptly.

" Yes," the girl answered, a note of surprise in her voice.

"And you're going to California?"

" Yes," she said again, her eyes searching his face, a little mystified; then, with a manner that was an unabashed challenge to friendliness : " Why, you know ever so much more about me than I do about you."

He was not skilful at fence. " ]My name is jNIark Bailey," he told her directly. " I 'm one of the new ones — I only got here yesterday. I saw your brother last night, over yonder. That 's how I knew your name and where you 're going. It 's a long way."

" Yes," she answered, and stood looking pensively toward the line of the lowlying hills, vaguely defined against the western sky. "A long way," she said, after a moment. " It makes me almost afraid, it 's so big and so lonely — ' a weary land ' : do you remember? I wonder if we shall find ' the shadow of a great rock ' there."

Her emotion was strong upon her. She turned abruptly awaj'- toward the fire and began to busy herself with the scattered supper things. Mark had forgotten Forrester for the time; but now the boy strolled up to the fire, his hands deep in his pockets, his face alight with its amused, half -cynical smile.

" You 've found a use for yourself, INIark, as usual," he said. " And I 'm the bj^stander — as usual, too. I 'm worn out mth being merely decorative all day. I think I '11 go over the river and go to bed. Good-night."

The Woman 6i

He had spoken as though to Mark alone, yet there was something indefinable in the manner of the sj^eech which made it include the girl. At the last he withdrew his hands from his pockets and bared his head, then turned to face her directly for an instant, with a slow inclination of his lithe young body, his fine eyes meeting hers and holding them as he passed. In another man the action would have been formal, constrained; in him it seemed no more than a natural and gentle deference, which her very presence compelled. She acknowledged it with a grave, calm grace, and Mark saw that her glance followed him with an inquiring interest as he loitered lazily away toward the river.

The babe was sleeping soundly in Mark's arms. " You can put him down now," the girl said; and Mark laid the little body in its nest of blankets within the shelter of the M^aggon. She bent and touched the flushed cheek gently with her lips.

" His mother has been good to me," she said. " We came with these people from IlHnois; but they will stay here, and we must find some other way to go on. We haven't found it yet; but we shall."

A hundred questions were crowding to Mark's lips, but before one of them was spoken Braidlaw came to the camp. As on the preceding night, when Mark had first seen him, there was that in the man's heavy, sensual face which forbade liking — not traces of past evil, but signs of capacity for evil. The feeling did not wholly pass when Braidlaw met his sister with a smile which curiously softened the gross lines. Before he took account of Mark's presence, he answered her unspoken but evident anxiety.

"Not yet, Dorothy; but don't let it worry you. I 'm sure to find something with all this travel."

There was a brief interval of silence, while the girl seemed to be waiting for some sign of that acquaintance between the two men of which Mark had spoken.

After a moment JNIark offered Braidlaw his hand.

" My name 's Bailey," he said. " I belong to the Forrester outfit. You were talking to us last night at Council Bluffs about going west."

Braidlaw's smile was gone, and his black ej^es were fixed upon Mark with their habitual hard, disconcerting stare-

" I remember," he said dully. " You would n't give me what I wanted."

" It was n't so bad as that, was it? " Mark laughed. " We 're not ready yet, that 's all. I 'm only one of the smaller partners ; but if you 're still here when we take the trail I think we may fix it. We '11 need a lot of men."