XXVIIAnd on Tuesday he kept his word and the land was his for a few hundred dollars—all except the half of Lot No. 210, which it appeared the "party" declined to sell, refusing to consider any profit whatever."It's like a woman," remarked Munsell."Is your 'party' a woman?""Yes. I guess she's into some game or other, too. Say, what is this Seminole County game, Mr. White?—if you don't mind my asking, now that you have taken title to your—h'm!—orange grove.""Why do you think there is any particular game afoot?" inquired the young man curiously."Oh, come!Youknow what you're buying. And that young lady knew, too. You've both bought a few acres of cypress swamp and you know it. What do you think is in it?""Snakes," said White coolly.[271]"Oh,Iknow," said Munsell. "You think there's marl and phosphoric rock.""And isn't there?" asked White innocently."How shouldIknow?" replied Munsell as innocently; the inference being that he knew perfectly well that there was nothing worth purchasing in the Causeway swamp.But when White went away he was a trifle worried, and he wondered uneasily why anybody else at that particular time should happen to invest in swampy real estate along the Spanish Causeway.He knew the Spanish Causeway. In youthful and prosperous days, when his parents were alive, they had once wintered at Verbena Inlet.And on several occasions he had been taken on excursions to the so-called Spanish Causeway—a dike-shaped path, partly ruined, made of marl and shell, which traversed the endless swamps of Seminole County, and was supposed to have been built by De Soto and his Spaniards.But whoever built it, Spaniard, Seminole, or the prehistoric people antedating both, there it still was, a ruined remnant of highway penetrating the otherwise impassable swamps.For miles across the wilderness of cypress, palmetto, oak, and depthless mud it stretched—a[272]crumbling but dry runway for deer, panther, bear, black wolf, and Seminole. And excursion parties from the great hotels at Verbena often picnicked at its intersection with the forest road, but ventured no farther along the dismal, forbidding, and snake-infested ridge which ran anywhere between six inches and six feet above the level of the evil-looking marsh flanking it on either side.In the care-free days of school, of affluence, and of youth, White had been taken to gaze upon this alleged relic of Spanish glory. He now remembered it very clearly.And that night, aboard the luxurious Verbena Special, he lay in his bunk and dreamed dreams awake, which almost overwhelmed him with their magnificence. But when he slept his dreams were uneasy, interspersed with vague visions of women who came in regiments through flowering jungles to drive him out of his own property. It was a horrid sort of nightmare, for they pelted him with iron-bound copies of Valdez, knocking him almost senseless into the mud. And it seemed to him that he might have perished there had not his little red-haired neighbour extended a slender, helping hand in the nick of time.Dreaming of her he awoke, still shaking with the experience. And all that day he read in his[273]book and pored over the map attached to it, until the locomotive whistled for St. Augustine, and he was obliged to disembark for the night.However, next morning he was on his way to Verbena, the train flying through a steady whirlwind of driving sand. And everywhere in the sunshine stretched the flat-woods, magnificently green—endless miles of pine and oak and palmetto, set with brilliant glades of vast, flat fields of wild phlox over which butterflies hovered.At Verbena Station he disembarked with his luggage, which consisted of a complete tropical camping outfit, tinned food, shot-gun, rifle, rods, spade, shovel, pick, crow. In his hand he carried an innocent looking satchel, gingerly. It contained dynamite in sticks, and the means to explode it safely.To a hackman he said: "I'm not going to any hotel. What I want is a wagon, a team of mules, and a driver to take me and my outfit to Coakachee Creek on the Spanish Causeway. Can you fix it for me?"The hackman said he could. And in half an hour he drove up in his mule wagon to the deserted station, where White sat all alone amid his mountainous paraphernalia.When the wagon had been loaded, and they had[274]been driving through the woods for nearly half an hour in silence, the driver's curiosity got the better of him, and he ventured to enquire of White why everybody was going to the Spanish Causeway.Which question startled the young man very disagreeably until he learned that "everybody" merely meant himself and one other person taken thither by the same driver the day before.Further, he learned that this person was a woman from the North, completely equipped for camping as was he. Which made him more uneasy than ever, for he of course identified her with Mr. Munsell's client, whose land, including half of Lot 210, adjoined his own. Who she might be and why she had come down here to Seminole County he could not imagine, because Munsell had intimated that she knew what she was buying.No doubt she meant to play a similar game to Munsell's, and had come down to take a look at her villainous property before advertising possibilities of perpetual sunshine.Yet, why had she brought a camping outfit? Ordinary land swindlers remained comfortably aloof from the worthless property they advertised. What was she intending to do there?Instead of a swindler was she, perhaps, the[275]swindlee? Had she bought the property in good faith? Didn't she know it was under water? Had she come down here with her pitiful camping equipment prepared to rough it and set out orange trees? Poor thing!"Was she all alone?" he inquired of his cracker driver."Yaas, suh.""Poor thing. Did she seem young and inexperienced?""Yaas, suh—'scusin she all has right smart o' red ha'r.""What?" exclaimed White excitedly. "You say she is young, and that she seemed inexperienced, except for her red hair!""Yaas, suh. She all has a right smart hank of red ha'r on her haid. I ain't never knowed nobody with red ha'r what ain't had a heap mo' 'sperience than the mostest.""D-d-did you say that you drove her over to the Spanish Causeway yesterday?" stammered the dismayed young man."Yaas, suh."Horrified thoughts filled his mind. For there could be scarcely any doubt that this intruder was his red-haired neighbour across the aisle at the library sale.[276]No doubt at all that he already crossed her trail at Munsell's agency. Also, she had bid in one of the only two copies of Valdez.First he had seen her reading it with every symptom of profound interest. Then she had gone to the sale and bid in one of the copies. Then he had heard from Munsell about a woman who had bought land along the Causeway the day before he had made his own purchase.And now once more he had struck her swift, direct trail, only to learn that she was still one day in advance of him!In his mental panic he remembered that his title was secure. That thought comforted him for a few moments, until he began to wonder whether the land he had acquired was really sufficient to cover a certain section of perhaps half an acre along the Causeway.According to his calculations he had given himself ample margin in every direction, for the spot he desired to control ought to lie somewhere about midway between Lot 200 and Lot 210.Had he miscalculated? Hadshemiscalculated? Why had she purchased that strip from half of Lot 210 to Lot 220?There could be only one answer: this clever[277]and astoundingly enterprising young girl had read Valdez, had decided to take a chance, had proved her sporting spirit by backing her judgment, and had started straight as an arrow for the terrifying territory in question.Hers had been first choice of Mr. Munsell's lots; she had deliberately chosen the numbers from half of 210 to 220. She was perfectly ignorant that he, White, had any serious intentions in Seminole County. Therefore, it had been her judgment, based on calculations from the Valdez map, that half of Lot 210 and the intervening territory including Lot 220, would be ample for her to control a certain spot—the very spot which he himself expected to control.Either he or she had miscalculated. Which?Dreadfully worried, he sat in silence beside his taciturn driver, gazing at the flanking forest through which the white road wound.The only habitation they passed was fruit-drying ranch No. 7, in the wilderness—just this one sunny oasis in the solemn half-light of the woods.White did not remember the road, although when a child he must have traversed it to the Causeway. Nor when he came in sight of the Causeway did he recognise it, where it ran[278]through a glade of high, silvery grass set sparsely with tall palmettos.But here it was, and the cracker turned his mules into it, swinging sharply to the left along Coakachee Creek and proceeding for about two miles, where a shell mound enabled him to turn his team.A wagon could proceed no farther because the crumbling Causeway narrowed to a foot-path beyond. So here they unloaded; the cracker rested his mules for a while, then said a brief good-bye to White and shook the reins.When he had driven out of sight, White started to drag his tent and tent-poles along the dike top toward his own property, which ought to lie just ahead—somewhere near the curve that the Causeway made a hundred yards beyond. For he had discovered a weather-beaten shingle nailed to a water-oak, where he had disembarked his luggage; and on it were the remains of the painted number 198.Lugging tent and poles, he started along the Causeway, keeping a respectful eye out for snakes. So intent was he on avoiding the playful attentions of rattler or moccasin that it was only when he almost ran into it that he discovered another tent pitched directly in his path.[279]Of course he had expected to find her encamped there on the Causeway, but he was surprised, nevertheless, and his tent-poles fell, clattering.A second later the flap of her tent was pushed aside, and his red-haired neighbour of the galleries stepped out, plainly startled.[280]XXVIIIShe seemed to be still more startled when she saw him: her blue eyes dilated; the colour which had ebbed came back, suffusing her pretty features. But when she recognised him, fear, dismay, astonishment, and anxiety blended in swift confusion, leaving her silent, crimson, rooted to the spot.White took off his hat and walked up to where she stood."I'm sorry, Miss Sandys," he said. "Only a few hours ago did I learn who it was camping here on the Causeway. And—I'm afraid I know why you are here.... Because the same reason that brought you started me the next day."She had recovered her composure. She said very gravely:[281]"I wondered when I saw you reading Valdez whether, by any possibility, you might think of coming here. And when you bought the other copy I was still more afraid.... But I had already secured an option on my lots.""I know it," he said, chagrined."Were you," she inquired, "the client of Mr. Munsell who tried to buy from me the other half of Lot 210?""Yes.""I wondered. But of course I would not sell it. What lots have you bought?""I took No. 200 to the northern half of No. 210.""Why?" she asked, surprised."Because," he said, reddening, "my calculations tell me that this gives me ample margin."She looked at him in calm disapproval, shaking her head; but her blue eyes softened."I'm sorry," she said. "You have miscalculated, Mr. White. The spot lies somewhere within the plot numbered from half of 210 to 220.""I am very much afraid thatyouhave miscalculated, Miss Sandys. I did not even attempt to purchase your plot—except half of 210.""Nor did I even consideryourplot, Mr. White," she said sorrowfully, "and I had my choice.[282]Really I am very sorry for you, but you have made a complete miscalculation.""I don't see how I could. I worked it out from the Valdez map.""So did I."She had the volume under her arm; he had his in his pocket."Let me show you," he began, drawing it out and opening it. "Would you mind looking at the map for a moment?"Her dainty head a trifle on one side, she looked over his shoulder as he unfolded the map for her."Here," he said, plucking a dead grass stem and tracing the Causeway on the map, "here lie my lots—including, as you see, the spot marked by Valdez with a Maltese cross.... I'm sorry; but how in the world could you have made your mistake?"He turned to glance at the girl and saw her amazement and misunderstood it."It's too bad," he added, feeling profoundly sorry for her."Do you know," she said in a voice quivering with emotion, "that a very terrible thing has happened to us?""Tous?"[283]"Tobothof us. I—we—oh, please look at my map! It is—it is different from yours!"With nervous fingers she opened the book, spread out the map, and held it under his horrified eyes."Do you see!" she exclaimed. "According tothismap, my lots include the Maltese cross of Valdez! I—I—p-please excuse me——" She turned abruptly and entered her tent; but he had caught the glimmer of sudden tears in her eyes and had seen the pitiful lips trembling.On his own account he was sufficiently scared; now it flashed upon him that this plucky young thing had probably spent her last penny on the chance that Bangs had told the truth about "The Journal of Pedro Valdez."That the two maps differed was a staggering blow to him; and his knees seemed rather weak at the moment, so he sat down on his unpacked tent and dropped his face in his palms.Lord, what a mess! His last cent was invested; hers, too, no doubt. He hadn't even railroad fare North. Probably she hadn't either.He had gambled and lost. There was scarcely a chance that he had not lost. And the same fearful odds were against her."The poor little thing!" he muttered, staring at[284]her tent. And after a moment he sprang to his feet and walked over to it. The flap was open; she sat inside on a camp-chair, her red head in her arms, doubled over in an attitude of tragic despair."Miss Sandys?"She looked up hastily, the quick colour dyeing her pale cheeks, her long, black lashes glimmering with tears."Do you mind talking it over with me?" he asked."N-no.""May I come in?""P-please."He seated himself cross-legged on the threshold."There's only one thing to do," he said, "and that is to go ahead. We must go ahead. Of course the hazard is against us. Let us face the chance that Bangs was only a clever romancer. Well, we've already discounted that. Then let us face the discrepancy in our two maps. It's bad, I'll admit. It almost knocks the last atom of confidence out of me. It has floored you. But you must not take the count. You must get up."He paused, looking around him with troubled eyes; then somehow the sight of her pathetic figure—the[285]soft, helpless youth of her—suddenly seemed to prop up his back-bone."Miss Sandys, I am going to stand by you anyway! I suppose, like myself, you have invested your last dollar in this business?""Y-yes."He glanced at the pick, shovel and spade in the corner of her tent, then at her hands."Who," he asked politely, "was going to wield these?"She let her eyes rest on the massive implements of honest toil, then looked confusedly at him."I was.""Did you ever try to dig with any of these things?""N-no. But if Ihadto do it I knew I could."He said, pleasantly: "You have all kinds of courage. Did you bring a shot-gun?""Yes.""Do you know how to load and fire it?""The clerk in the shop instructed me.""You are the pluckiest girl I ever laid eyes on.... You camped here all alone last night, I suppose?""Yes.""How about it?" he asked, smilingly. "Were you afraid?"[286]She coloured, cast a swift glance at him, saw that his attitude was perfectly respectful and sympathetic, and said:"Yes, I was horribly afraid.""Did anything annoy you?""S-something bellowed out there in the swamp——" She shuddered unaffectedly at the recollection."A bull-alligator," he remarked."What?""Yes," he nodded, "it is terrifying, but they let you alone. I once heard one bellow on the Tomoka when I was a boy."After a while she said with tremulous lips:"There seem to be snakes here, too.""Didn't you expect any?""Mr. Munsell said there were not any.""Did he?""Not," she explained resolutely, "that the presence of snakes would have deterred me. They frighten me terribly, but—I would have come just the same.""You are sheer pluck," he said."I don't know.... I am very poor.... There seemed to be a chance.... I took it——" Tears sprang to her eyes again, and she brushed them away impatiently.[287]"Yes," she said, "the only way is to go on, as you say, Mr. White. Everything in the world that I have is invested here.""It is the same with me," he admitted dejectedly.They looked at each other curiously for a moment."Isn't it strange?" she murmured."Strange as 'The Journal of Valdez.'... I have an idea. I wonder what you might think of it."She waited; he reflected for another moment, then, smiling:"This is a perfectly rotten place for you," he said. "You could not do manual labour here in this swamp under a nearly vertical sun and keep your health for twenty-four hours. I've been in Trinidad. I know a little about the tropics and semi-tropics. Suppose you and I form a company?""What?""Call it the Valdez Company, or the Association of the Maltese Cross," he continued cheerfully. "You will do the cooking, washing, housekeeping for two tents, and the mending. I will do the digging and the dynamiting. And we'll go ahead doggedly, and face this thing and see it through[288]to the last ditch. What do you think of it? Your claim as plotted out is no more, no less, valuable than mine. Both claims may be worthless. The chances are that they are absolutely valueless. But thereisa chance, too, that we might win out. Shall we try it together?"She did not answer."And," he continued, "if the Maltese cross happens to be included within my claim, I share equally with you. If it chances to lie within your claim, perhaps I might ask a third——""Mr. White!""Yes?""You will taketwothirds!""What?""Twothirds," she repeated firmly, "because your heavier labour entitles you to that proportion!""My dear Miss Sandys, you are unworldly and inexperienced in your generosity——""So are you! The idea of your modestly venturing to ask athird! And offering me ahalfif the Maltese cross lie inside your own territory! That is not the way to do business, Mr. White!"She had become so earnest in her admonition, so charmingly emphatic, that he smiled in spite of himself.[289]She flushed, noticing this, and said: "Altruism is a luxury in business matters; selfishness of the justifiable sort a necessity. Who will look out for your interests if you do not?""Youseem to be doing it."Her colour deepened: "I am only suggesting that you do not make a foolish bargain with me.""Which proves," he said, "that you are not much better at business than am I. Otherwise you'd have taken me up.""I'm a very good business woman," she insisted, warmly, "but I'm too much of the other kind of woman to be unfair!""Commercially," he said, "we both are sadly behind the times. To-day the world is eliminating its appendix; to-morrow it will be operated on for another obsolete and annoying appendage. I mean its conscience," he added, so seriously that for a moment her own gravity remained unaltered. Then, like a faint ray of sunlight, across her face the smile glimmered. It was a winning smile, fresh and unspoiled as the lips it touched."Youwilltake half—won't you?" she asked."Yes, I will. Is it a bargain?""If you care to make it so, Mr. White."He said he did, and they shook hands very[290]formally. Then he went out and pitched his tent beside hers, set it in order, lugged up the remainder of his equipment, buried the jars of spring water, and, entering his tent, changed to flannel shirt, sun-helmet, and khaki.[291]XXIXA little later he called to her: she emerged from her tent, and together they sat down on the edge of the Causeway, with the two maps spread over their knees.That both maps very accurately represented the topography of the immediate vicinity there could be no doubt; the only discrepancy seemed to lie in the situation of the Maltese cross. On White's map the cross fell well within his half of Lot 210; in Jean Sandys' map it was situated between her half of 210 and 220.Plot it out as they might, using Mr. Munsell's diagram, the result was always the same; and after a while they gave up the useless attempt to reconcile the differences in the two maps.[292]From where they were sitting together on the Causeway's edge, they were facing due west. At their feet rippled the clear, deep waters of the swamp, lapping against the base of the Causeway like transparent little waves in a northern lake. A slight current disclosed the channel where it flowed out of the north western edges of the swamp, which was set with tall cypress trees, their flaring bases like silvery pyramids deep set in the shining ooze.East of them the Coakachee flowed through thickets of saw-grass and green brier, between a forest of oak, pine, and cedar, bordered on the western side by palm and palmetto—all exactly as drawn in the map of Pedro Valdez.The afternoon was cloudless and warm; an exquisite scent of blossoms came from the forest when a light breeze rippled the water. Somewhere in those green and tangled depths jasmine hung its fairy gold from arching branches, and wild oranges were in bloom. At intervals, when the breeze set from the east, the heavenly fragrance of magnolia grew more pronounced.After a little searching he discovered the huge tree, far towering above oak and pine and palm, set with lustrous clusters, ivory and palest gold, exhaling incense.[293]"Wonderful," she said under her breath, when he pointed it out to her. "This enchanted land is one endless miracle to me.""You have never before been in the South?""I have been nowhere.""Oh. I thought perhaps when you were a child——""We were too poor. My mother taught piano.""I see," he said gravely."I had no childhood," she said. "After the public school, it was the book section in department stores.... They let me go last week. That is how I came to be in the Heikem galleries."He clasped his hands around one knee and looked out across the semi-tropical landscape.Orange-coloured butterflies with wings like lighted lanterns fluttered along the edges of the flowering shrubs; a lovely purplish-black one with four large, white polka dots on his wings flitted persistently about them.Over the sun-baked Causeway blue-tailed lizards raced and chased each other, frisking up tree trunks, flashing across branches: a snowy heron rose like some winged thing from Heaven, and floated away into the silvery light. And like living jewels the gorgeous wood-ducks glided in and[294]out where the water sparkled among the cypress trees."Think," he said, "of those men in armour toiling through these swamps under a vertical sun! Think of them, starved, haggard, fever racked, staggering toward their El Dorado!—their steel mail scorching their bodies, the briers and poison-grass festering their flesh; moccasin, rattler, and copperhead menacing them with death at every step; the poisoned arrows of the Indians whizzing from every glade!""Blood and gold," she nodded, "and the deathless bravery of avarice! That was Spain. And it inflamed the sunset of Spanish glory."He mused for a while: "To think of De Soto being here—hereon this very spot!—here on this ancient Causeway, amid these forests!—towering in his armour! His plated mail must have made a burning hell for his body!"She looked down at the cool, blue water at her feet. He, too, gazed at it, curiously. For a few feet the depths were visible, then a translucent gloom, glimmering with emerald lights, obscured further penetration of his vision. Deep down in that water was what they sought—if it truly existed at all.After a few moments' silence he rose, drew the[295]hunting-knife at his belt, severed a tall, swamp-maple sapling, trimmed it, and, returning to the water's edge, deliberately sounded the channel. He could not touch bottom there, or even at the base of the Causeway."Miss Sandys," he said, "there is plenty of room for such a structure as the Maltese cross is supposed to mark.""I wonder," she murmured."Oh, there's room enough," he repeated, with an uneasy laugh. "Suppose we begin operations!""When?""Now!"She looked up at him, flushed and smiling:"It is going to take weeks and weeks, isn't it?""I thought so before I came down here. But—I don't see why we shouldn't blow a hole through this Causeway in a few minutes.""What!"She rose to her feet, slightly excited, not understanding."I could set off enough dynamite right here," he said, stamping his heel into the white dust, "—enough dynamite to open up that channel into the Coakachee. Why don't I do it?"[296]Pink with excitement she said breathlessly: "Did you bringdynamite?""Didn'tyou?""I—I never even thought of it. F-fire crackers frighten me. I thought it would be all I could do to fire off my shot-gun." And she bit her lip with vexation."Why," he said, "it would take a gang of men a week to cut through this Causeway, besides building a coffer-dam." He looked at her curiously. "How didyouexpect to begin operations all alone?""I—I expected to dig."He looked at her delicate little hands:"You meant to dig your way through with pick and shovel?""Yes—if it took a year.""And how did you expect to construct your coffer-dam?""I didn't know about a coffer-dam," she admitted, blushing. After a moment she lifted her pretty, distressed eyes to his: "I—I had no knowledge—only courage," she said.... "And I needed money."A responsive flush of sympathy and pity passed over him; she was so plucky, so adorably helpless. Even now he knew she was unconscious of[297]the peril into which her confidence and folly had led her—a peril averted only by the mere accident of his own arrival.He said lightly: "Shall we try to solve this thing now? Shall we take a chance, set our charges, and blow a hole in this Causeway big enough to drain that water off in an hour?""Could you dothat?" she exclaimed, delighted."I think so.""Then tell me what to do to help you."He turned toward her, hesitated, controlling the impulsive reply."To help me," he said, smilingly, "please keep away from the dynamite.""Oh, I will," she nodded seriously. "What else am I to do?""Would you mind preparing dinner?"She looked up at him a little shyly: "No.... And I am very glad that I am not to dine alone.""So am I," he said. "And I am very glad that it is withyouI am to dine.""You never even looked at me in the galleries," she said."Then—how could I know you were reading Valdez if I never looked at you?""Oh, you may have looked at thebookI was reading."[298]"I did," he said, "—and at the hands that held it.""Never dreaming that they meant to wield a pick-axe," she laughed, "and encompass your discomfiture. But after all they did neither the one nor the other; did they?"He looked at the smooth little hands cupped in the shallow pockets of her white flannel Norfolk. They fascinated him."To think," he said, half to himself, "—to think of those hands wielding a pick-axe!"She smiled, head slightly on one side, and bent, contemplating her right hand."You know," she said, "I certainly would have done it.""You would have been crippled in an hour."Her head went up, but she was still smiling as she said: "I'd have gone through with it—somehow.""Yes," he said slowly. "I believe you would.""Not," she added, blushing, "that I mean to vaunt myself or my courage——""No: I understand. You are not that kind.... It's rather extraordinary how well I—IthinkI know you already.""Perhaps youdoknow me—already.""I really believe I do."[299]"It's very likely. I am just what I seem to be. There is no mystery about me. I am what I appear to be.""You are also very direct.""Yes. It's my nature to be direct. I am not a bit politic or diplomatic or circuitous.""So I noticed," he said smilingly, "when you discussed finance with me. You were not a bit politic."She smiled, too, a little embarrassed: "How could I be anything but frank in return for your very unworldly generosity?" she said. "Because what you offeredwasunworldly. Anyway, I should have been direct with you; I knew what I wanted; I knew what you wanted. All I had to do was to make up my mind. And I did so.""Did you make up your mind about me, also?""Yes, about you, also."They both smiled.She was so straight and slender and pretty in her white flannels and white outing hat—her attitude so confident, so charmingly determined, that she seemed to him even younger than she really was—a delightful, illogical, fresh and fearless school-girl, translated by some flash of magic from her school hither, and set down unruffled and unstartled upon her light, white-shod feet.[300]Even now it amazed him to realise that she really understood nothing of the lonely perils lately confronting her in this desolate place.For if there were nothing actually to fear from the wild beasts of the region,that which the beasts themselves fearedmight have confronted her at any moment. He shuddered as he thought of it.And what would she have done if suddenly clutched by fever? What would she have done if a white-mouthed moccasin had struck her ankle—or if it had been the diamond-set Death himself?"You don't mind my speaking plainly, do you?" he said bluntly."Why, no, of course not." She looked at him inquiringly."Don't stray far away from me, will you?""What?""Don't wander away by yourself, out of sight, while we are engaged in this business."She looked serious and perplexed for a moment, then turned a delicate pink and began to laugh in a pretty, embarrassed way."Are you afraid I'll get into mischief? Do you know it is very kind of you to feel that way?... And rather unexpected—in a man who—sat for[301]three days across the aisle from me—and never even looked in my direction. Tell me, what am I to be afraid of in this place?""There are snakes about," he said with emphasis."Oh, yes; I've seen some swimming.""There are four poisonous species among them," he continued. "That's one of the reasons for your keeping near me."She nodded, a trifle awed."So you will, won't you?""Yes," she said, taking his words so literally that, when they turned to walk toward the tents, she came up close beside him, naïvely as a child, and laid one hand on his sleeve as they started back across the Causeway."Suppose either one of us is bitten?" she asked after a silence."I have lancets, tourniquets, and anti-venom in my tent."Her smooth hand tightened a little on his arm. She had not realised that the danger was more than a vague possibility."You have spring water, of course," he said."No.... I boiled a little from the swamp before I drank it."He turned to her sternly and drew her arm[302]through his with an unconscious movement of protection."Are you sure that water was properly boiled—thoroughlyboiled?" he demanded."It bubbled.""Listen to me! Hereafter when you are thirsty you will use my spring water. Is that understood?""Yes.... And thank you.""You don't want to get break-bone fever, do you?""No-o!" she said hastily. "I will do everything you wish.""I'll hang your hammock for you," he said. "Always look in your shoes for scorpions and spiders before you put them on. Never step over a fallen log before you first look on the other side. Rattlers lie there. Never go near a swamp without looking for moccasins."Don't let the direct sunlight fall on your bare head; don't eat fruit for a week; don't ever go to sleep unless you have a blanket on. You won't do any of these things, will you?" he inquired anxiously, almost tenderly."I promise. And I never dreamed that there was anything to apprehend except alligators!" she said, tightening her arm around his own.[303]"Alligators won't bother you—unless you run across a big one in the woods. Then keep clear of him.""I will!" she said earnestly."And don't sit about on old logs or lean against trees.""Why? Lizards?""Oh, they're not harmful. But wood-ticks might give you a miserable week or two.""Oh, dear, oh, dear," she murmured, "I am so glad you came here!" And quite innocently she pressed his arm. She did it because she was grateful. She had a very direct way with her.[304]XXXWhen they came to their tents he went into hers, slung her hammock properly, shook a scorpion out of her slippers, and set his heel on it; drove a non-poisonous but noisy puff-adder from under her foot-rug, the creature hissing like a boiling kettle and distending its grey and black neck.Terrified but outwardly calm, she stood beside him, now clutching his arm very closely; and at last her tent was in order, the last spider and lizard hustled out, the oil cook-stove burning, the tinned goods ready, the aluminum batterie-de-cuisine ranged at her elbow."I wonder," he said, hesitating, "whether I[305]dare leave you long enough to go and dig some holes with a crow-bar.""Why, of course!" she said. "You can't have me tagging at your heels every minute, you know."He laughed: "It'sIwho do the tagging.""It isn't disagreeable," she said shyly."I don't mean to dog every step you take," he continued, "but now, when you are out of my sight, I—I can't help feeling a trifle anxious.""But you mustn't feel responsible for me. I came down here on my own initiative. I certainly deserve whatever happens to me. Don't I?""What comfort would that be to me if anything unpleasant did happen to you?""Why," she asked frankly, "should you feel as responsible for my welfare as that? After all, I am only a stranger, you know."He said: "Do you really feel like a stranger? Do you really feel that I am one?"She considered the proposition for a few moments."No," she said, "I don't. And perhaps it is natural for us to take a friendly interest in each other.""It comes perfectly natural to me to take a v-very v-vivid interest in you," he said. "What[306]with snakes and scorpions and wood-ticks and unboiled water and the actinic rays of the sun, I can't very well help worrying about you. After all," he added lucidly, "you're a girl, you know."She admitted the accusation with a smile so sweet that there could be no doubt of her sex."However," she said, "you should entertain no apprehensions concerning me. I have none concerning you. I think you know your business.""Of course," he said, going into his tent and returning loaded with crow-bar, pick-axe, dynamite, battery, and wires.She laid aside the aluminum cooking-utensils with which she had been fussing and rose from her knees as he passed her with a pleasant nod ofau revoir."You'll be careful with that dynamite, won't you?" she said anxiously. "You know it goes off at all sorts of unexpected moments.""I think I understand how to handle it," he reassured her."Are you quite certain?""Oh, yes. But perhaps you'd better not come any nearer——""Mr. White!""What!""Itisdangerous! I don't like to have you go[307]away alone with that dynamite. You make me very anxious.""You needn't be. If—in the very remote event of anything going wrong—now don't forget what I say!—but in case of an accident to me, you'll be all right if you start back to Verbena at once—instantly—and take the right-hand road——""Mr.White!""Yes?""I wasnotthinking of myself! I was concerned aboutyou!""Me?—personally?""Of course! You say you have me on your mind. Do you think I am devoid of human feeling?""Were you—really—thinking aboutme?" he repeated slowly. "That was very nice of you.... I didn't quite understand.... I'll be careful with the dynamite.""Perhaps I'd better go with you," she suggested irresolutely."Why?""I could hold a green umbrella over you while you are digging holes. You yourself say that the sun is dangerous.""My sun-helmet makes it all right," he said, deeply touched.[308]"You won't take it off, will you?""No.""And you'll look all around you for snakes before you take the next step, won't you?" she insisted.He promised, thrilled by her frank solicitude.A little way up the path he paused, looked around, and saw her standing there looking after him."You're sure you'll be all right?" he called back to her."Yes. Are you sureyouwill be?""Oh, yes!"They made two quick gestures of adieu, and he resumed the path. Presently he turned again. She was still standing there looking after him. They made two gestures of farewell and he resumed the path. After a while he looked back. She—but what's the use!When he came to the spot marked for destruction, he laid down his paraphernalia, seized the crow-bar, and began to dig, scarcely conscious of what he was about because he had become so deeply absorbed in other things—inan-other thing—a human one with red hair and otherwise divinely endowed.The swift onset of this heavenly emotion was[309]making him giddy—or perhaps it was unaccustomed manual labor under a semi-tropical sun.Anyway he went about his work blindly but vigorously, seeing nothing of the surrounding landscape or of the immediate ground into which he rammed his crow-bar, so constantly did the charming vision of her piquant features shut out all else.And all the time he was worrying, too. He thought of snakes biting her distractingly pretty ankles; he thought of wood-ticks and of her snowy neck; of scorpions and of the delicate little hands.How on earth was he ever going to endure the strain if already, in these few hours, his anxiety about her welfare was assuming such deep and portentous proportions! How was he going to stand the worry until she was safe in the snakeless, tickless North again!She couldn't remain here! She must go North. His mind seemed already tottering under its new and constantly increasing load of responsibility; and he dug away fiercely with his bar, making twice as many holes as he had meant to.For he had suddenly determined to be done with the job and get her into some safe place, and he[310]meant to set off a charge of dynamite that would do the business without fail.Charging and tamping the holes, he used caution, even in spite of his increasing impatience to return and see how she was; arguing very justly with himself that if he blew himself up he couldn't very well learn how she was.So he attached the wires very carefully, made his connections, picked up the big reel and the remainder of his tools, and walked toward the distant tents, unreeling his wire as he moved along.She was making soup, but she heard the jangle of his equipment, sprang to her feet, and ran out to meet him.He let fall everything and held out both hands. In them she laid her own."I'm so glad to see you!" he said warmly. "I'm so thankful that you're all right!""I'm so glad you came back," she said frankly. "I have been most uneasy about you.""I've been very anxious, too," he said. Then, drawing an unfeigned sigh of relief: "It does seem good to get back again!" He had been away nearly half an hour.She examined the wire and the battery gingerly, asking him innumerable questions about it."Do you suppose," she ended, "that it will be[311]safe for you to set off the charge from this camp?""Oh, perfectly," he nodded."Of course," she said, half to herself, "we'll both be blown up if it isn't safe. And that issomething!"And she came up very close when he said he was ready to fire, and laid her hand on his arm. The hand was steady enough. But when he glanced at her he saw how white she had become."Why, Jean!" he said gently. "Are you frightened?""No.... I won't mind it if I may stand rather near you." And she closed her eyes and placed both hands over her ears."Do you think I'd fire this charge," he demanded warmly, "if there was the slightest possible danger toyou? Take down your hands and listen."Her closed eyelids quivered: "We'll both—there won't be anything left of either of us if anything does happen," she said tremulously. "I am not afraid.... Only tell me when to close my ears.""Do you really think there is danger?""I don't know."He looked at her standing there, pale, plucky,[312]eyes tightly shut, her pretty fingers resting lightly on her ears.He said: "Would you think me crazy if I tell you something?""W-What?""Would you think me insane, Jean?""I don't think I would.""You wouldn't consider me utterly mad?""N-no.""No—what?""No, I wouldn't consider you mad——""No—what?" he persisted.And after a moment her pallor was tinted with a delicate rose."No—what?" he insisted again."No—Jim," she answered under breath."Then—close your ears, Jean, dear."She closed them; his arm encircled her waist. She bore it nobly."You may fire when you are ready—James!" she said faintly.A thunder-clap answered her; the Causeway seemed to spring up under their feet; the world reeled.Presently she heard his voice sounding calmly: "Are you all right, Jean?""Yes.... I was thinking of you—as long as[313]I could think at all. I was ready to go—anywhere—with you.""I have been ready for that," he said unsteadily, "from the moment I heard your voice. But it is—is wonderful ofyou!"She opened her blue eyes, dreamily looking up into his. Then the colour surged into her face."If—if you had spoken to me across the aisle," she said, "it would have begun even sooner, I think.... Because I can't imagine myself not—caring for you."He took her into his arms:"Don't worry," he said, "I'll make a place for you in the world, even if that Maltese cross means nothing."She looked into his eyes fearlessly: "I know you will," she said.Then he kissed her and she put both arms around his neck and offered her fresh, young lips again.[314]
And on Tuesday he kept his word and the land was his for a few hundred dollars—all except the half of Lot No. 210, which it appeared the "party" declined to sell, refusing to consider any profit whatever.
"It's like a woman," remarked Munsell.
"Is your 'party' a woman?"
"Yes. I guess she's into some game or other, too. Say, what is this Seminole County game, Mr. White?—if you don't mind my asking, now that you have taken title to your—h'm!—orange grove."
"Why do you think there is any particular game afoot?" inquired the young man curiously.
"Oh, come!Youknow what you're buying. And that young lady knew, too. You've both bought a few acres of cypress swamp and you know it. What do you think is in it?"
"Snakes," said White coolly.[271]
"Oh,Iknow," said Munsell. "You think there's marl and phosphoric rock."
"And isn't there?" asked White innocently.
"How shouldIknow?" replied Munsell as innocently; the inference being that he knew perfectly well that there was nothing worth purchasing in the Causeway swamp.
But when White went away he was a trifle worried, and he wondered uneasily why anybody else at that particular time should happen to invest in swampy real estate along the Spanish Causeway.
He knew the Spanish Causeway. In youthful and prosperous days, when his parents were alive, they had once wintered at Verbena Inlet.
And on several occasions he had been taken on excursions to the so-called Spanish Causeway—a dike-shaped path, partly ruined, made of marl and shell, which traversed the endless swamps of Seminole County, and was supposed to have been built by De Soto and his Spaniards.
But whoever built it, Spaniard, Seminole, or the prehistoric people antedating both, there it still was, a ruined remnant of highway penetrating the otherwise impassable swamps.
For miles across the wilderness of cypress, palmetto, oak, and depthless mud it stretched—a[272]crumbling but dry runway for deer, panther, bear, black wolf, and Seminole. And excursion parties from the great hotels at Verbena often picnicked at its intersection with the forest road, but ventured no farther along the dismal, forbidding, and snake-infested ridge which ran anywhere between six inches and six feet above the level of the evil-looking marsh flanking it on either side.
In the care-free days of school, of affluence, and of youth, White had been taken to gaze upon this alleged relic of Spanish glory. He now remembered it very clearly.
And that night, aboard the luxurious Verbena Special, he lay in his bunk and dreamed dreams awake, which almost overwhelmed him with their magnificence. But when he slept his dreams were uneasy, interspersed with vague visions of women who came in regiments through flowering jungles to drive him out of his own property. It was a horrid sort of nightmare, for they pelted him with iron-bound copies of Valdez, knocking him almost senseless into the mud. And it seemed to him that he might have perished there had not his little red-haired neighbour extended a slender, helping hand in the nick of time.
Dreaming of her he awoke, still shaking with the experience. And all that day he read in his[273]book and pored over the map attached to it, until the locomotive whistled for St. Augustine, and he was obliged to disembark for the night.
However, next morning he was on his way to Verbena, the train flying through a steady whirlwind of driving sand. And everywhere in the sunshine stretched the flat-woods, magnificently green—endless miles of pine and oak and palmetto, set with brilliant glades of vast, flat fields of wild phlox over which butterflies hovered.
At Verbena Station he disembarked with his luggage, which consisted of a complete tropical camping outfit, tinned food, shot-gun, rifle, rods, spade, shovel, pick, crow. In his hand he carried an innocent looking satchel, gingerly. It contained dynamite in sticks, and the means to explode it safely.
To a hackman he said: "I'm not going to any hotel. What I want is a wagon, a team of mules, and a driver to take me and my outfit to Coakachee Creek on the Spanish Causeway. Can you fix it for me?"
The hackman said he could. And in half an hour he drove up in his mule wagon to the deserted station, where White sat all alone amid his mountainous paraphernalia.
When the wagon had been loaded, and they had[274]been driving through the woods for nearly half an hour in silence, the driver's curiosity got the better of him, and he ventured to enquire of White why everybody was going to the Spanish Causeway.
Which question startled the young man very disagreeably until he learned that "everybody" merely meant himself and one other person taken thither by the same driver the day before.
Further, he learned that this person was a woman from the North, completely equipped for camping as was he. Which made him more uneasy than ever, for he of course identified her with Mr. Munsell's client, whose land, including half of Lot 210, adjoined his own. Who she might be and why she had come down here to Seminole County he could not imagine, because Munsell had intimated that she knew what she was buying.
No doubt she meant to play a similar game to Munsell's, and had come down to take a look at her villainous property before advertising possibilities of perpetual sunshine.
Yet, why had she brought a camping outfit? Ordinary land swindlers remained comfortably aloof from the worthless property they advertised. What was she intending to do there?
Instead of a swindler was she, perhaps, the[275]swindlee? Had she bought the property in good faith? Didn't she know it was under water? Had she come down here with her pitiful camping equipment prepared to rough it and set out orange trees? Poor thing!
"Was she all alone?" he inquired of his cracker driver.
"Yaas, suh."
"Poor thing. Did she seem young and inexperienced?"
"Yaas, suh—'scusin she all has right smart o' red ha'r."
"What?" exclaimed White excitedly. "You say she is young, and that she seemed inexperienced, except for her red hair!"
"Yaas, suh. She all has a right smart hank of red ha'r on her haid. I ain't never knowed nobody with red ha'r what ain't had a heap mo' 'sperience than the mostest."
"D-d-did you say that you drove her over to the Spanish Causeway yesterday?" stammered the dismayed young man.
"Yaas, suh."
Horrified thoughts filled his mind. For there could be scarcely any doubt that this intruder was his red-haired neighbour across the aisle at the library sale.[276]
No doubt at all that he already crossed her trail at Munsell's agency. Also, she had bid in one of the only two copies of Valdez.
First he had seen her reading it with every symptom of profound interest. Then she had gone to the sale and bid in one of the copies. Then he had heard from Munsell about a woman who had bought land along the Causeway the day before he had made his own purchase.
And now once more he had struck her swift, direct trail, only to learn that she was still one day in advance of him!
In his mental panic he remembered that his title was secure. That thought comforted him for a few moments, until he began to wonder whether the land he had acquired was really sufficient to cover a certain section of perhaps half an acre along the Causeway.
According to his calculations he had given himself ample margin in every direction, for the spot he desired to control ought to lie somewhere about midway between Lot 200 and Lot 210.
Had he miscalculated? Hadshemiscalculated? Why had she purchased that strip from half of Lot 210 to Lot 220?
There could be only one answer: this clever[277]and astoundingly enterprising young girl had read Valdez, had decided to take a chance, had proved her sporting spirit by backing her judgment, and had started straight as an arrow for the terrifying territory in question.
Hers had been first choice of Mr. Munsell's lots; she had deliberately chosen the numbers from half of 210 to 220. She was perfectly ignorant that he, White, had any serious intentions in Seminole County. Therefore, it had been her judgment, based on calculations from the Valdez map, that half of Lot 210 and the intervening territory including Lot 220, would be ample for her to control a certain spot—the very spot which he himself expected to control.
Either he or she had miscalculated. Which?
Dreadfully worried, he sat in silence beside his taciturn driver, gazing at the flanking forest through which the white road wound.
The only habitation they passed was fruit-drying ranch No. 7, in the wilderness—just this one sunny oasis in the solemn half-light of the woods.
White did not remember the road, although when a child he must have traversed it to the Causeway. Nor when he came in sight of the Causeway did he recognise it, where it ran[278]through a glade of high, silvery grass set sparsely with tall palmettos.
But here it was, and the cracker turned his mules into it, swinging sharply to the left along Coakachee Creek and proceeding for about two miles, where a shell mound enabled him to turn his team.
A wagon could proceed no farther because the crumbling Causeway narrowed to a foot-path beyond. So here they unloaded; the cracker rested his mules for a while, then said a brief good-bye to White and shook the reins.
When he had driven out of sight, White started to drag his tent and tent-poles along the dike top toward his own property, which ought to lie just ahead—somewhere near the curve that the Causeway made a hundred yards beyond. For he had discovered a weather-beaten shingle nailed to a water-oak, where he had disembarked his luggage; and on it were the remains of the painted number 198.
Lugging tent and poles, he started along the Causeway, keeping a respectful eye out for snakes. So intent was he on avoiding the playful attentions of rattler or moccasin that it was only when he almost ran into it that he discovered another tent pitched directly in his path.[279]
Of course he had expected to find her encamped there on the Causeway, but he was surprised, nevertheless, and his tent-poles fell, clattering.
A second later the flap of her tent was pushed aside, and his red-haired neighbour of the galleries stepped out, plainly startled.[280]
She seemed to be still more startled when she saw him: her blue eyes dilated; the colour which had ebbed came back, suffusing her pretty features. But when she recognised him, fear, dismay, astonishment, and anxiety blended in swift confusion, leaving her silent, crimson, rooted to the spot.
White took off his hat and walked up to where she stood.
"I'm sorry, Miss Sandys," he said. "Only a few hours ago did I learn who it was camping here on the Causeway. And—I'm afraid I know why you are here.... Because the same reason that brought you started me the next day."
She had recovered her composure. She said very gravely:[281]
"I wondered when I saw you reading Valdez whether, by any possibility, you might think of coming here. And when you bought the other copy I was still more afraid.... But I had already secured an option on my lots."
"I know it," he said, chagrined.
"Were you," she inquired, "the client of Mr. Munsell who tried to buy from me the other half of Lot 210?"
"Yes."
"I wondered. But of course I would not sell it. What lots have you bought?"
"I took No. 200 to the northern half of No. 210."
"Why?" she asked, surprised.
"Because," he said, reddening, "my calculations tell me that this gives me ample margin."
She looked at him in calm disapproval, shaking her head; but her blue eyes softened.
"I'm sorry," she said. "You have miscalculated, Mr. White. The spot lies somewhere within the plot numbered from half of 210 to 220."
"I am very much afraid thatyouhave miscalculated, Miss Sandys. I did not even attempt to purchase your plot—except half of 210."
"Nor did I even consideryourplot, Mr. White," she said sorrowfully, "and I had my choice.[282]Really I am very sorry for you, but you have made a complete miscalculation."
"I don't see how I could. I worked it out from the Valdez map."
"So did I."
She had the volume under her arm; he had his in his pocket.
"Let me show you," he began, drawing it out and opening it. "Would you mind looking at the map for a moment?"
Her dainty head a trifle on one side, she looked over his shoulder as he unfolded the map for her.
"Here," he said, plucking a dead grass stem and tracing the Causeway on the map, "here lie my lots—including, as you see, the spot marked by Valdez with a Maltese cross.... I'm sorry; but how in the world could you have made your mistake?"
He turned to glance at the girl and saw her amazement and misunderstood it.
"It's too bad," he added, feeling profoundly sorry for her.
"Do you know," she said in a voice quivering with emotion, "that a very terrible thing has happened to us?"
"Tous?"[283]
"Tobothof us. I—we—oh, please look at my map! It is—it is different from yours!"
With nervous fingers she opened the book, spread out the map, and held it under his horrified eyes.
"Do you see!" she exclaimed. "According tothismap, my lots include the Maltese cross of Valdez! I—I—p-please excuse me——" She turned abruptly and entered her tent; but he had caught the glimmer of sudden tears in her eyes and had seen the pitiful lips trembling.
On his own account he was sufficiently scared; now it flashed upon him that this plucky young thing had probably spent her last penny on the chance that Bangs had told the truth about "The Journal of Pedro Valdez."
That the two maps differed was a staggering blow to him; and his knees seemed rather weak at the moment, so he sat down on his unpacked tent and dropped his face in his palms.
Lord, what a mess! His last cent was invested; hers, too, no doubt. He hadn't even railroad fare North. Probably she hadn't either.
He had gambled and lost. There was scarcely a chance that he had not lost. And the same fearful odds were against her.
"The poor little thing!" he muttered, staring at[284]her tent. And after a moment he sprang to his feet and walked over to it. The flap was open; she sat inside on a camp-chair, her red head in her arms, doubled over in an attitude of tragic despair.
"Miss Sandys?"
She looked up hastily, the quick colour dyeing her pale cheeks, her long, black lashes glimmering with tears.
"Do you mind talking it over with me?" he asked.
"N-no."
"May I come in?"
"P-please."
He seated himself cross-legged on the threshold.
"There's only one thing to do," he said, "and that is to go ahead. We must go ahead. Of course the hazard is against us. Let us face the chance that Bangs was only a clever romancer. Well, we've already discounted that. Then let us face the discrepancy in our two maps. It's bad, I'll admit. It almost knocks the last atom of confidence out of me. It has floored you. But you must not take the count. You must get up."
He paused, looking around him with troubled eyes; then somehow the sight of her pathetic figure—the[285]soft, helpless youth of her—suddenly seemed to prop up his back-bone.
"Miss Sandys, I am going to stand by you anyway! I suppose, like myself, you have invested your last dollar in this business?"
"Y-yes."
He glanced at the pick, shovel and spade in the corner of her tent, then at her hands.
"Who," he asked politely, "was going to wield these?"
She let her eyes rest on the massive implements of honest toil, then looked confusedly at him.
"I was."
"Did you ever try to dig with any of these things?"
"N-no. But if Ihadto do it I knew I could."
He said, pleasantly: "You have all kinds of courage. Did you bring a shot-gun?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how to load and fire it?"
"The clerk in the shop instructed me."
"You are the pluckiest girl I ever laid eyes on.... You camped here all alone last night, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"How about it?" he asked, smilingly. "Were you afraid?"[286]
She coloured, cast a swift glance at him, saw that his attitude was perfectly respectful and sympathetic, and said:
"Yes, I was horribly afraid."
"Did anything annoy you?"
"S-something bellowed out there in the swamp——" She shuddered unaffectedly at the recollection.
"A bull-alligator," he remarked.
"What?"
"Yes," he nodded, "it is terrifying, but they let you alone. I once heard one bellow on the Tomoka when I was a boy."
After a while she said with tremulous lips:
"There seem to be snakes here, too."
"Didn't you expect any?"
"Mr. Munsell said there were not any."
"Did he?"
"Not," she explained resolutely, "that the presence of snakes would have deterred me. They frighten me terribly, but—I would have come just the same."
"You are sheer pluck," he said.
"I don't know.... I am very poor.... There seemed to be a chance.... I took it——" Tears sprang to her eyes again, and she brushed them away impatiently.[287]
"Yes," she said, "the only way is to go on, as you say, Mr. White. Everything in the world that I have is invested here."
"It is the same with me," he admitted dejectedly.
They looked at each other curiously for a moment.
"Isn't it strange?" she murmured.
"Strange as 'The Journal of Valdez.'... I have an idea. I wonder what you might think of it."
She waited; he reflected for another moment, then, smiling:
"This is a perfectly rotten place for you," he said. "You could not do manual labour here in this swamp under a nearly vertical sun and keep your health for twenty-four hours. I've been in Trinidad. I know a little about the tropics and semi-tropics. Suppose you and I form a company?"
"What?"
"Call it the Valdez Company, or the Association of the Maltese Cross," he continued cheerfully. "You will do the cooking, washing, housekeeping for two tents, and the mending. I will do the digging and the dynamiting. And we'll go ahead doggedly, and face this thing and see it through[288]to the last ditch. What do you think of it? Your claim as plotted out is no more, no less, valuable than mine. Both claims may be worthless. The chances are that they are absolutely valueless. But thereisa chance, too, that we might win out. Shall we try it together?"
She did not answer.
"And," he continued, "if the Maltese cross happens to be included within my claim, I share equally with you. If it chances to lie within your claim, perhaps I might ask a third——"
"Mr. White!"
"Yes?"
"You will taketwothirds!"
"What?"
"Twothirds," she repeated firmly, "because your heavier labour entitles you to that proportion!"
"My dear Miss Sandys, you are unworldly and inexperienced in your generosity——"
"So are you! The idea of your modestly venturing to ask athird! And offering me ahalfif the Maltese cross lie inside your own territory! That is not the way to do business, Mr. White!"
She had become so earnest in her admonition, so charmingly emphatic, that he smiled in spite of himself.[289]
She flushed, noticing this, and said: "Altruism is a luxury in business matters; selfishness of the justifiable sort a necessity. Who will look out for your interests if you do not?"
"Youseem to be doing it."
Her colour deepened: "I am only suggesting that you do not make a foolish bargain with me."
"Which proves," he said, "that you are not much better at business than am I. Otherwise you'd have taken me up."
"I'm a very good business woman," she insisted, warmly, "but I'm too much of the other kind of woman to be unfair!"
"Commercially," he said, "we both are sadly behind the times. To-day the world is eliminating its appendix; to-morrow it will be operated on for another obsolete and annoying appendage. I mean its conscience," he added, so seriously that for a moment her own gravity remained unaltered. Then, like a faint ray of sunlight, across her face the smile glimmered. It was a winning smile, fresh and unspoiled as the lips it touched.
"Youwilltake half—won't you?" she asked.
"Yes, I will. Is it a bargain?"
"If you care to make it so, Mr. White."
He said he did, and they shook hands very[290]formally. Then he went out and pitched his tent beside hers, set it in order, lugged up the remainder of his equipment, buried the jars of spring water, and, entering his tent, changed to flannel shirt, sun-helmet, and khaki.[291]
A little later he called to her: she emerged from her tent, and together they sat down on the edge of the Causeway, with the two maps spread over their knees.
That both maps very accurately represented the topography of the immediate vicinity there could be no doubt; the only discrepancy seemed to lie in the situation of the Maltese cross. On White's map the cross fell well within his half of Lot 210; in Jean Sandys' map it was situated between her half of 210 and 220.
Plot it out as they might, using Mr. Munsell's diagram, the result was always the same; and after a while they gave up the useless attempt to reconcile the differences in the two maps.[292]
From where they were sitting together on the Causeway's edge, they were facing due west. At their feet rippled the clear, deep waters of the swamp, lapping against the base of the Causeway like transparent little waves in a northern lake. A slight current disclosed the channel where it flowed out of the north western edges of the swamp, which was set with tall cypress trees, their flaring bases like silvery pyramids deep set in the shining ooze.
East of them the Coakachee flowed through thickets of saw-grass and green brier, between a forest of oak, pine, and cedar, bordered on the western side by palm and palmetto—all exactly as drawn in the map of Pedro Valdez.
The afternoon was cloudless and warm; an exquisite scent of blossoms came from the forest when a light breeze rippled the water. Somewhere in those green and tangled depths jasmine hung its fairy gold from arching branches, and wild oranges were in bloom. At intervals, when the breeze set from the east, the heavenly fragrance of magnolia grew more pronounced.
After a little searching he discovered the huge tree, far towering above oak and pine and palm, set with lustrous clusters, ivory and palest gold, exhaling incense.[293]
"Wonderful," she said under her breath, when he pointed it out to her. "This enchanted land is one endless miracle to me."
"You have never before been in the South?"
"I have been nowhere."
"Oh. I thought perhaps when you were a child——"
"We were too poor. My mother taught piano."
"I see," he said gravely.
"I had no childhood," she said. "After the public school, it was the book section in department stores.... They let me go last week. That is how I came to be in the Heikem galleries."
He clasped his hands around one knee and looked out across the semi-tropical landscape.
Orange-coloured butterflies with wings like lighted lanterns fluttered along the edges of the flowering shrubs; a lovely purplish-black one with four large, white polka dots on his wings flitted persistently about them.
Over the sun-baked Causeway blue-tailed lizards raced and chased each other, frisking up tree trunks, flashing across branches: a snowy heron rose like some winged thing from Heaven, and floated away into the silvery light. And like living jewels the gorgeous wood-ducks glided in and[294]out where the water sparkled among the cypress trees.
"Think," he said, "of those men in armour toiling through these swamps under a vertical sun! Think of them, starved, haggard, fever racked, staggering toward their El Dorado!—their steel mail scorching their bodies, the briers and poison-grass festering their flesh; moccasin, rattler, and copperhead menacing them with death at every step; the poisoned arrows of the Indians whizzing from every glade!"
"Blood and gold," she nodded, "and the deathless bravery of avarice! That was Spain. And it inflamed the sunset of Spanish glory."
He mused for a while: "To think of De Soto being here—hereon this very spot!—here on this ancient Causeway, amid these forests!—towering in his armour! His plated mail must have made a burning hell for his body!"
She looked down at the cool, blue water at her feet. He, too, gazed at it, curiously. For a few feet the depths were visible, then a translucent gloom, glimmering with emerald lights, obscured further penetration of his vision. Deep down in that water was what they sought—if it truly existed at all.
After a few moments' silence he rose, drew the[295]hunting-knife at his belt, severed a tall, swamp-maple sapling, trimmed it, and, returning to the water's edge, deliberately sounded the channel. He could not touch bottom there, or even at the base of the Causeway.
"Miss Sandys," he said, "there is plenty of room for such a structure as the Maltese cross is supposed to mark."
"I wonder," she murmured.
"Oh, there's room enough," he repeated, with an uneasy laugh. "Suppose we begin operations!"
"When?"
"Now!"
She looked up at him, flushed and smiling:
"It is going to take weeks and weeks, isn't it?"
"I thought so before I came down here. But—I don't see why we shouldn't blow a hole through this Causeway in a few minutes."
"What!"
She rose to her feet, slightly excited, not understanding.
"I could set off enough dynamite right here," he said, stamping his heel into the white dust, "—enough dynamite to open up that channel into the Coakachee. Why don't I do it?"[296]
Pink with excitement she said breathlessly: "Did you bringdynamite?"
"Didn'tyou?"
"I—I never even thought of it. F-fire crackers frighten me. I thought it would be all I could do to fire off my shot-gun." And she bit her lip with vexation.
"Why," he said, "it would take a gang of men a week to cut through this Causeway, besides building a coffer-dam." He looked at her curiously. "How didyouexpect to begin operations all alone?"
"I—I expected to dig."
He looked at her delicate little hands:
"You meant to dig your way through with pick and shovel?"
"Yes—if it took a year."
"And how did you expect to construct your coffer-dam?"
"I didn't know about a coffer-dam," she admitted, blushing. After a moment she lifted her pretty, distressed eyes to his: "I—I had no knowledge—only courage," she said.... "And I needed money."
A responsive flush of sympathy and pity passed over him; she was so plucky, so adorably helpless. Even now he knew she was unconscious of[297]the peril into which her confidence and folly had led her—a peril averted only by the mere accident of his own arrival.
He said lightly: "Shall we try to solve this thing now? Shall we take a chance, set our charges, and blow a hole in this Causeway big enough to drain that water off in an hour?"
"Could you dothat?" she exclaimed, delighted.
"I think so."
"Then tell me what to do to help you."
He turned toward her, hesitated, controlling the impulsive reply.
"To help me," he said, smilingly, "please keep away from the dynamite."
"Oh, I will," she nodded seriously. "What else am I to do?"
"Would you mind preparing dinner?"
She looked up at him a little shyly: "No.... And I am very glad that I am not to dine alone."
"So am I," he said. "And I am very glad that it is withyouI am to dine."
"You never even looked at me in the galleries," she said.
"Then—how could I know you were reading Valdez if I never looked at you?"
"Oh, you may have looked at thebookI was reading."[298]
"I did," he said, "—and at the hands that held it."
"Never dreaming that they meant to wield a pick-axe," she laughed, "and encompass your discomfiture. But after all they did neither the one nor the other; did they?"
He looked at the smooth little hands cupped in the shallow pockets of her white flannel Norfolk. They fascinated him.
"To think," he said, half to himself, "—to think of those hands wielding a pick-axe!"
She smiled, head slightly on one side, and bent, contemplating her right hand.
"You know," she said, "I certainly would have done it."
"You would have been crippled in an hour."
Her head went up, but she was still smiling as she said: "I'd have gone through with it—somehow."
"Yes," he said slowly. "I believe you would."
"Not," she added, blushing, "that I mean to vaunt myself or my courage——"
"No: I understand. You are not that kind.... It's rather extraordinary how well I—IthinkI know you already."
"Perhaps youdoknow me—already."
"I really believe I do."[299]
"It's very likely. I am just what I seem to be. There is no mystery about me. I am what I appear to be."
"You are also very direct."
"Yes. It's my nature to be direct. I am not a bit politic or diplomatic or circuitous."
"So I noticed," he said smilingly, "when you discussed finance with me. You were not a bit politic."
She smiled, too, a little embarrassed: "How could I be anything but frank in return for your very unworldly generosity?" she said. "Because what you offeredwasunworldly. Anyway, I should have been direct with you; I knew what I wanted; I knew what you wanted. All I had to do was to make up my mind. And I did so."
"Did you make up your mind about me, also?"
"Yes, about you, also."
They both smiled.
She was so straight and slender and pretty in her white flannels and white outing hat—her attitude so confident, so charmingly determined, that she seemed to him even younger than she really was—a delightful, illogical, fresh and fearless school-girl, translated by some flash of magic from her school hither, and set down unruffled and unstartled upon her light, white-shod feet.[300]
Even now it amazed him to realise that she really understood nothing of the lonely perils lately confronting her in this desolate place.
For if there were nothing actually to fear from the wild beasts of the region,that which the beasts themselves fearedmight have confronted her at any moment. He shuddered as he thought of it.
And what would she have done if suddenly clutched by fever? What would she have done if a white-mouthed moccasin had struck her ankle—or if it had been the diamond-set Death himself?
"You don't mind my speaking plainly, do you?" he said bluntly.
"Why, no, of course not." She looked at him inquiringly.
"Don't stray far away from me, will you?"
"What?"
"Don't wander away by yourself, out of sight, while we are engaged in this business."
She looked serious and perplexed for a moment, then turned a delicate pink and began to laugh in a pretty, embarrassed way.
"Are you afraid I'll get into mischief? Do you know it is very kind of you to feel that way?... And rather unexpected—in a man who—sat for[301]three days across the aisle from me—and never even looked in my direction. Tell me, what am I to be afraid of in this place?"
"There are snakes about," he said with emphasis.
"Oh, yes; I've seen some swimming."
"There are four poisonous species among them," he continued. "That's one of the reasons for your keeping near me."
She nodded, a trifle awed.
"So you will, won't you?"
"Yes," she said, taking his words so literally that, when they turned to walk toward the tents, she came up close beside him, naïvely as a child, and laid one hand on his sleeve as they started back across the Causeway.
"Suppose either one of us is bitten?" she asked after a silence.
"I have lancets, tourniquets, and anti-venom in my tent."
Her smooth hand tightened a little on his arm. She had not realised that the danger was more than a vague possibility.
"You have spring water, of course," he said.
"No.... I boiled a little from the swamp before I drank it."
He turned to her sternly and drew her arm[302]through his with an unconscious movement of protection.
"Are you sure that water was properly boiled—thoroughlyboiled?" he demanded.
"It bubbled."
"Listen to me! Hereafter when you are thirsty you will use my spring water. Is that understood?"
"Yes.... And thank you."
"You don't want to get break-bone fever, do you?"
"No-o!" she said hastily. "I will do everything you wish."
"I'll hang your hammock for you," he said. "Always look in your shoes for scorpions and spiders before you put them on. Never step over a fallen log before you first look on the other side. Rattlers lie there. Never go near a swamp without looking for moccasins.
"Don't let the direct sunlight fall on your bare head; don't eat fruit for a week; don't ever go to sleep unless you have a blanket on. You won't do any of these things, will you?" he inquired anxiously, almost tenderly.
"I promise. And I never dreamed that there was anything to apprehend except alligators!" she said, tightening her arm around his own.[303]
"Alligators won't bother you—unless you run across a big one in the woods. Then keep clear of him."
"I will!" she said earnestly.
"And don't sit about on old logs or lean against trees."
"Why? Lizards?"
"Oh, they're not harmful. But wood-ticks might give you a miserable week or two."
"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she murmured, "I am so glad you came here!" And quite innocently she pressed his arm. She did it because she was grateful. She had a very direct way with her.[304]
When they came to their tents he went into hers, slung her hammock properly, shook a scorpion out of her slippers, and set his heel on it; drove a non-poisonous but noisy puff-adder from under her foot-rug, the creature hissing like a boiling kettle and distending its grey and black neck.
Terrified but outwardly calm, she stood beside him, now clutching his arm very closely; and at last her tent was in order, the last spider and lizard hustled out, the oil cook-stove burning, the tinned goods ready, the aluminum batterie-de-cuisine ranged at her elbow.
"I wonder," he said, hesitating, "whether I[305]dare leave you long enough to go and dig some holes with a crow-bar."
"Why, of course!" she said. "You can't have me tagging at your heels every minute, you know."
He laughed: "It'sIwho do the tagging."
"It isn't disagreeable," she said shyly.
"I don't mean to dog every step you take," he continued, "but now, when you are out of my sight, I—I can't help feeling a trifle anxious."
"But you mustn't feel responsible for me. I came down here on my own initiative. I certainly deserve whatever happens to me. Don't I?"
"What comfort would that be to me if anything unpleasant did happen to you?"
"Why," she asked frankly, "should you feel as responsible for my welfare as that? After all, I am only a stranger, you know."
He said: "Do you really feel like a stranger? Do you really feel that I am one?"
She considered the proposition for a few moments.
"No," she said, "I don't. And perhaps it is natural for us to take a friendly interest in each other."
"It comes perfectly natural to me to take a v-very v-vivid interest in you," he said. "What[306]with snakes and scorpions and wood-ticks and unboiled water and the actinic rays of the sun, I can't very well help worrying about you. After all," he added lucidly, "you're a girl, you know."
She admitted the accusation with a smile so sweet that there could be no doubt of her sex.
"However," she said, "you should entertain no apprehensions concerning me. I have none concerning you. I think you know your business."
"Of course," he said, going into his tent and returning loaded with crow-bar, pick-axe, dynamite, battery, and wires.
She laid aside the aluminum cooking-utensils with which she had been fussing and rose from her knees as he passed her with a pleasant nod ofau revoir.
"You'll be careful with that dynamite, won't you?" she said anxiously. "You know it goes off at all sorts of unexpected moments."
"I think I understand how to handle it," he reassured her.
"Are you quite certain?"
"Oh, yes. But perhaps you'd better not come any nearer——"
"Mr. White!"
"What!"
"Itisdangerous! I don't like to have you go[307]away alone with that dynamite. You make me very anxious."
"You needn't be. If—in the very remote event of anything going wrong—now don't forget what I say!—but in case of an accident to me, you'll be all right if you start back to Verbena at once—instantly—and take the right-hand road——"
"Mr.White!"
"Yes?"
"I wasnotthinking of myself! I was concerned aboutyou!"
"Me?—personally?"
"Of course! You say you have me on your mind. Do you think I am devoid of human feeling?"
"Were you—really—thinking aboutme?" he repeated slowly. "That was very nice of you.... I didn't quite understand.... I'll be careful with the dynamite."
"Perhaps I'd better go with you," she suggested irresolutely.
"Why?"
"I could hold a green umbrella over you while you are digging holes. You yourself say that the sun is dangerous."
"My sun-helmet makes it all right," he said, deeply touched.[308]
"You won't take it off, will you?"
"No."
"And you'll look all around you for snakes before you take the next step, won't you?" she insisted.
He promised, thrilled by her frank solicitude.
A little way up the path he paused, looked around, and saw her standing there looking after him.
"You're sure you'll be all right?" he called back to her.
"Yes. Are you sureyouwill be?"
"Oh, yes!"
They made two quick gestures of adieu, and he resumed the path. Presently he turned again. She was still standing there looking after him. They made two gestures of farewell and he resumed the path. After a while he looked back. She—but what's the use!
When he came to the spot marked for destruction, he laid down his paraphernalia, seized the crow-bar, and began to dig, scarcely conscious of what he was about because he had become so deeply absorbed in other things—inan-other thing—a human one with red hair and otherwise divinely endowed.
The swift onset of this heavenly emotion was[309]making him giddy—or perhaps it was unaccustomed manual labor under a semi-tropical sun.
Anyway he went about his work blindly but vigorously, seeing nothing of the surrounding landscape or of the immediate ground into which he rammed his crow-bar, so constantly did the charming vision of her piquant features shut out all else.
And all the time he was worrying, too. He thought of snakes biting her distractingly pretty ankles; he thought of wood-ticks and of her snowy neck; of scorpions and of the delicate little hands.
How on earth was he ever going to endure the strain if already, in these few hours, his anxiety about her welfare was assuming such deep and portentous proportions! How was he going to stand the worry until she was safe in the snakeless, tickless North again!
She couldn't remain here! She must go North. His mind seemed already tottering under its new and constantly increasing load of responsibility; and he dug away fiercely with his bar, making twice as many holes as he had meant to.
For he had suddenly determined to be done with the job and get her into some safe place, and he[310]meant to set off a charge of dynamite that would do the business without fail.
Charging and tamping the holes, he used caution, even in spite of his increasing impatience to return and see how she was; arguing very justly with himself that if he blew himself up he couldn't very well learn how she was.
So he attached the wires very carefully, made his connections, picked up the big reel and the remainder of his tools, and walked toward the distant tents, unreeling his wire as he moved along.
She was making soup, but she heard the jangle of his equipment, sprang to her feet, and ran out to meet him.
He let fall everything and held out both hands. In them she laid her own.
"I'm so glad to see you!" he said warmly. "I'm so thankful that you're all right!"
"I'm so glad you came back," she said frankly. "I have been most uneasy about you."
"I've been very anxious, too," he said. Then, drawing an unfeigned sigh of relief: "It does seem good to get back again!" He had been away nearly half an hour.
She examined the wire and the battery gingerly, asking him innumerable questions about it.
"Do you suppose," she ended, "that it will be[311]safe for you to set off the charge from this camp?"
"Oh, perfectly," he nodded.
"Of course," she said, half to herself, "we'll both be blown up if it isn't safe. And that issomething!"
And she came up very close when he said he was ready to fire, and laid her hand on his arm. The hand was steady enough. But when he glanced at her he saw how white she had become.
"Why, Jean!" he said gently. "Are you frightened?"
"No.... I won't mind it if I may stand rather near you." And she closed her eyes and placed both hands over her ears.
"Do you think I'd fire this charge," he demanded warmly, "if there was the slightest possible danger toyou? Take down your hands and listen."
Her closed eyelids quivered: "We'll both—there won't be anything left of either of us if anything does happen," she said tremulously. "I am not afraid.... Only tell me when to close my ears."
"Do you really think there is danger?"
"I don't know."
He looked at her standing there, pale, plucky,[312]eyes tightly shut, her pretty fingers resting lightly on her ears.
He said: "Would you think me crazy if I tell you something?"
"W-What?"
"Would you think me insane, Jean?"
"I don't think I would."
"You wouldn't consider me utterly mad?"
"N-no."
"No—what?"
"No, I wouldn't consider you mad——"
"No—what?" he persisted.
And after a moment her pallor was tinted with a delicate rose.
"No—what?" he insisted again.
"No—Jim," she answered under breath.
"Then—close your ears, Jean, dear."
She closed them; his arm encircled her waist. She bore it nobly.
"You may fire when you are ready—James!" she said faintly.
A thunder-clap answered her; the Causeway seemed to spring up under their feet; the world reeled.
Presently she heard his voice sounding calmly: "Are you all right, Jean?"
"Yes.... I was thinking of you—as long as[313]I could think at all. I was ready to go—anywhere—with you."
"I have been ready for that," he said unsteadily, "from the moment I heard your voice. But it is—is wonderful ofyou!"
She opened her blue eyes, dreamily looking up into his. Then the colour surged into her face.
"If—if you had spoken to me across the aisle," she said, "it would have begun even sooner, I think.... Because I can't imagine myself not—caring for you."
He took her into his arms:
"Don't worry," he said, "I'll make a place for you in the world, even if that Maltese cross means nothing."
She looked into his eyes fearlessly: "I know you will," she said.
Then he kissed her and she put both arms around his neck and offered her fresh, young lips again.[314]