"How did you reach Fort Gibraltar?" she persisted.
"Sans boots and cap," I promptly replied, determined to be ahead of the interloper.
"Sans heart, too," and the priest flicked my broncho with his whip and knocked the ready-made speech, with which I had hoped to silence him, clean out of my head. Frances Sutherland took to examining remote objects on the horizon. Hers was a nature not to be beaten.
"Let us ride faster," she suddenly proposed with a glance that boded roguery for the priest"s portly form. She was off like a shaft from a bow-string, causing a stampede of our horses. That was effective. A hard gallop against a stiff prairie wind will stop a stout man"s eloquence.
"Ho youngsters!" exclaimed the priest, coming abreast of us as we reined up behind the scouts. "If ye set me that gait--whew--I"ll not be left for Gretna Green--Faith--it"s Pembina, I mean," and he puffed like a cargo boat doing itself proud among the great liners.
He was breathless, therefore safe. Frances Sutherland was not disposed to break the acc.u.mulating silence, and I, for the life of me, could not think of a single remark appropriate for a party of three. The ordinary commonplaces, that stop-gap conversation, refused to come forth. I rehea.r.s.ed a mult.i.tude of impossible speeches; but they stuck behind sealed lips.
"Silence is getting heavy, Rufus," he observed, enjoying our embarra.s.sment.
Thus we jogged forward for a mile or more.
"Troth, me pet lambs," he remarked, as breath returned, "ye"ll both bleat better without me!"
Forthwith, away he rode fifty yards ahead, keeping that distance beyond us for the rest of the day and only calling over his shoulder occasionally.
"Och! But y"r bronchos are slow! Don"t be telling me y"r bronchos are not slow! Arrah, me hearties, be making good use o" the honeymoon,--I mean afternoon, not honeymoon. Marry, me children, but y"r bronchos are bog-spavined and spring-halted. Jiggle-joggle faster, with ye, ye rascals! Faith, I see ye out o" the tail o" my eye. Those bronchos are nosing a bit too close, I"m thinkin"! I"m going to turn! I warn ye fair--ready! One--shy-off there! Two--have a care! Three--I"m coming!
Four--prepare!"
And he would glance back with shouts of droll laughter. "Get epp! We mustn"t disturb them! Get epp!" This to his own horse and off he would go, humming some ditty to the lazy hobble of his nag.
"Old angel!" said I, under my breath, and I fell to wondering what earthly reason any man had for becoming a priest.
He was right. Talk no longer lagged, whatever our bronchos did; but, indeed, all we said was better heard by two than three. Why that was, I cannot tell, for like beads of a rosary our words were strung together on things commonplace enough; and fond hearts, as well as mystics, have a key to unlock a world of meaning from meaningless words. Tufts of poplars, wood islands on the prairie, skulking coyotes, that prowled to the top of some earth mound and uttered their weird cries, mud-colored badgers, hulking clumsily away to their treacherous holes, gophers, sly fellows, propped on midget tails pointing fore-paws at us--these and other common things stole the hours away. The sun, dipping close to the sky-line, shone distorted through the warm haze like a huge blood shield. Far ahead our scouts were pitching tents on ground well back from the river to avoid the mosquitoes swarming above the water. It was time to encamp for the night.
Those long June nights in the far north with fire glowing in the track of a vanished sun and stillness brooding over infinite s.p.a.ce--have a glory, that is peculiarly their own. Only a sort of half-darkness lies between the lingering sunset and the early sun-dawn. At nine o"clock the sun-rim is still above the western prairie. At ten, one may read by daylight, and, if the sky is clear, forget for another hour that night has begun. After supper, Father Holland sat at a distance from the tents with his back carefully turned towards us, a precaution on his part for which I was not ungrateful. Frances Sutherland was throned on the boxes of our quondam table, and I was reclining against saddle-blankets at her feet.
"Oh! To be so forever," she exclaimed, gazing at the globe of solid gold against the opal-green sky. "To have the light always clear, just ahead, nothing between us and the light, peace all about, no care, no weariness, just quiet and beauty like this forever."
"Like this forever! I ask nothing better," said I with great heartiness; but neither her eyes nor her thoughts were for me. Would the eyes looking so intently at the sinking sun, I wondered, condescend to look at a spot against the sun. In desperation I meditated standing up. "Tis all very well to talk of storming the citadel of a closed heart, but unless telepathic implements of war are perfected to the same extent as modern armaments, permitting attack at long range, one must first get within shooting distance. Apparently I was so far outside the defences, even my design was unknown.
"I think," she began in low, hesitating words, so clear and thrilling, they set my heart beating wildly with a vague expectation, "I think heaven must be very, very near on nights like this, don"t--you--Rufus?"
I wasn"t thinking of heaven at all, at least, not the heaven she had in mind; but if there is one thing to make a man swear white is black and black white and to bring him to instantaneous agreement with any statement whatsoever, it is to hear his Christian name so spoken for the first time. I sat up in an electrified way that brought the fringe of lashes down to hide those gray eyes.
"Very near? Well rather! I"ve been in heaven all day," I vowed. "I"ve been getting glimpses of paradise all the way from Fort William----"
"Don"t," she interrupted with a flash of the imperious nature, which I knew. "Please don"t, Mr. Gillespie."
"Please don"t Mister Gillespie me," said I, piqued by a return to the formal. "If you picked up Rufus by mistake from the priest, he sets a good example. Don"t drop a good habit!"
That was my first step inside the outworks.
"Rufus," she answered so gently I felt she might disarm and slay me if she would, "Rufus Gillespie"--that was a return of the old spirit, a compromise between her will and mine--"please don"t begin saying that sort of thing--there"s a whole day before us----"
"And you think I can"t keep it up?"
"You haven"t given any sign of failing. You know, Rufus," she added consolingly, "you really must not say those things, or something will be hurt! You"ll make me hurt it."
"Something is hurt and needs mending, Miss Sutherland----"
"Don"t Miss Sutherland me," she broke in with a laugh, "call me Frances; and if something is hurt and needs mending, I"m not a tinker, though my father and the priest--yes and you, too--sometimes think so. But sisters do mending, don"t they?" and she laughed my earnestness off as one would puff out a candle.
"No--no--no--not sisters--not that," I protested. "I have no sisters, Little Statue. I wouldn"t know how to act with a sister, unless she were somebody else"s sister, you know. I can"t stand the sisterly business, Frances----"
"Have you suffered much from the sisterly?" she asked with a merry twinkle.
"No," I hastened to explain, "I don"t know how to play the sisterly touch-and-go at all, but the men tell me it doesn"t work--dead failure, always ends the same. Sister proposes, or is proposed to----"
"Oh!" cried the Little Statue with the faintest note of alarm, and she moved back from me on the boxes. "I think we"d better play at being very matter-of-fact friends for the rest of the trip."
"No, thank you, Miss Sutherland--Frances, I mean," said I. "I"m not the fool to pretend that----"
"Then pretend anything you like," and there was a sudden coldness in her voice, which showed me she regarded my refusal and the slip in her name as a rebuff. "Pretend anything you like, only don"t say things."
That was a throwing down of armor which I had not expected.
"Then pretend that a pilgrim was lost in the dark, lost where men"s souls slip down steep places to h.e.l.l, and that one as radiant as an angel from heaven shone through the blackness and guided him back to safe ground," I cried, taking quick advantage of my fair antagonist"s sudden abandon and casting aside all banter.
"Children! children!" cried the priest. "Children! Sun"s down! Time to go to your trundles, my babes!"
"Yes, yes," I shouted. "Wait till I hear the rest of this story."
At my words she had started up with a little gasp of fright. A look of awe came into her gray eyes, which I have seen on the faces of those who find themselves for the first time beside the abyss of a precipice. And I have climbed many lofty peaks, but never one without pa.s.sing these places with the fearful possibilities of destruction. Always the novice has looked with the same unspeakable fear into the yawning depths, with the same unspeakable yearning towards the jewel-crowned heights beyond.
This, or something of this, was in the startled att.i.tude of the trembling figure, whose eyes met mine without flinching or favor.
"Or pretend that a traveler had lost his compa.s.s, and though he was without merit, G.o.d gave him a star."
"Is it a pretty story, Rufus?" called the priest.
"Very," I cried out impatiently. "Don"t interrupt."
"Or pretend that a poor fool with no merit but his love of purity and truth and honor lost his way to paradise, and G.o.d gave him an angel for a guide."
"Is it a long story, Rufus?" called the priest.
"It"s to be continued," I shouted, leaping to my feet and approaching her.
"And pretend that the pilgrim and the traveler and the fool, asked no other privilege but to give each his heart"s love, his life"s devotion to her who had come between him and the darkness----"
"Rufus!" roared the priest. "I declare I"ll take a stick to you. Come away! D" y" hear? She"s tired."
"Good-night," she answered, in a broken whisper, so cold it stabbed me like steel; and she put out her hand in the mechanical way of the well-bred woman in every land.
"Is that all?" I asked, holding the hand as if it had been a galvanic battery, though the priest was coming straight towards us.