2Romney was changed. The thing called civilisation settled back. Only the spirit of that which he had passed through remained with him from past days. All seemed closed, integrated. He travelled light. There was no menace, no apparent pursuit. He could not hold the continual wariness. Fear slipped from him before he rejoined Bamban at Tushi-kow. They were on the road to Turgim with two camels and one driver with provisions. Romney leaned forward.Sometimes it was like a terrible thirst. The pictures of the past no longer fed his heart. They too were completely integrated. He wanted the living woman again—her voice and hands, her sweet and sacred mysteries. He was burned with waiting. The actual resistance of the miles of sand and rock against the tread of swift camels was a peculiar and persistent deviltry. His sleep was brief and fragmentary. Only lovers and great workmen can endure such sleeplessness. Many times each night he awakened to see the greater stars moved but a short step westward.... Turgim, that had meant so much in approach, was nothing but a night-camp upon arrival. Ahead was another long barren stretch to Nadiram; every hour had to be wrestled back. His images all had to do with a certain coming hour.From a white man's standpoint he had little to count on. His woman had been torn away by a desert-band—only the promise of a withered ancient creature whose next breath was less than a good gambling chance, yet Rajananda had bulked mightily in his heart. In his best moments he had faith—a priceless winning. From a white man's standpoint, he was on the longest possible chance, but only in the darker and more terrible passages could Romney accept this.... There was one moment of starlight, the last night of riding between Turgim and Nadiram, when he really had a great moment.It was in solitude, as all such visitations arrive. Bamban was on the other camel with the driver, since provisions were down to small compass. He had fallen into a deep reverie and came-to with his hands out, palms stretched upward, eyes turned to the stars, his lips moving with a sentence like this:"It's the love of the Long Road. I have found her. No man can spoil that. I will find her again—if not now, when the time comes—if not here, there—"Romney laughed at the stars. He had been listening to his own soul, perhaps. It was stronger than he. He wanted her here and now; but the fact that the sentences had come through to his brain, had a significance that he was deeply-grounded enough in life to understand. And his palms had been stretched out. That meant submission, the world over.He laughed again. He was very far from the world just now. Cities—even China—had distressed him. He must reach calm on that. He must go back and master that terror of men. The desert had given him a tithe of her mysticism and power. He would have to go back and make it tell among men. Would he have to go back alone?Nifton Bend had mastered himself in the midst of men. Romney gripped a fuller understanding. The Hunchback had passed this barrier—after that his mate came to him. They were a completed circle—one even in their dying.... He would love to tell Anna Erivan that story.... In the very strength of his submission, his faith grew. The word of Rajananda returned. There had been no doubt in what the old master said. Anna Erivan was to wait for him in the hill-country. All that Rajananda had said about other things had been fulfilled.... And Nifton Bend had followed his own into the deeper dreaming. What did he mean by that? He seemed so glad to go, even though their lives were most beautiful together.The next day Romney squinted up at the sun. Something of the same power came to him again. There was a cross in the blinding light, and after that a full sheaf of golden wheat. Of course it might have been only the glare in his eyes, but he felt very strong and that he would bring something of different manhood to the woman who waited for him.Romney leaned forward.Bamban accepted him. There were no two ways now. He had bowed in silence long after the story of the end of Minglapo, even lamenting a little that he had not been there. But Rajananda had somehow put a seal on his service to the white man. Romney regarded theboyas he had never been quite able to do before, and respected the nature capable of such awe and reverence for the holy man. More especially admirable had Bamban proved on this last swift lonely journey.... They sat together during a long evening in the stone court of the Consulate at Nadiram (the door shut, the pole empty where the Russian flag had hung, and the hyenas whimpering afar off)."I'd like to go on to-night," Romney muttered."It would kill the camels. They have been pressed as never before.""Did you ask if there were two new camels here—exchange or rent?""Nothing of the kind.""I shall wait.""My master is parched," said Bamban.When his servant went to the Rest House, Romney remained to contemplate his world a little from the west wall where he had sat so many nights. At last he arose and went to the door where she had stood—the place of their first meeting—and knelt a moment on the stone.Even the next day the camels travelled but slowly. The same pair had come from Tushi-kow and they needed the rest of many days. From Nadiram to the place of the thonged stakes required two full days' travel; indeed, the night had fallen before they reached this point on the road to Wampli, and no desert-band was encountered on the journey.... The night was very still and hot. For two days a south wind had blown, and they breathed now the burning of the lower borders of the desert.A deserted world. Romney could not eat. With deep strange kindness, theboypressed him to drink his tea. The white man had come and there was no sign. His head was heavy on his breast. When his thoughts became too swift and torturing for stillness, he arose from the fire and walked to the place of the stakes. From there he followed the way to the point where he had fallen in his revolt against the natives.... They had taken her on from this point—just here he was carried to the camel.... The sentences of the old master on that last day recurred persistently now."... He said that man goes alone on his mission and that woman waits. He said that the woman I had found was to wait in sanctuary.... He seemed to love her, too, Bamban—""Yes, he called her his daughter, and spoke twice of her filling his bowl in the stone square at Nadiram—""He said that he was going to her," Romney went on, his words heavy and slow, "—that she was waiting for me in the hills of his country—not far from this place.""He will come soon," said Bamban, who was stretching out the blankets."He said there must be a new and different love between man and woman in the world. But, my God! they die! They seem to die when they love like that—""I do not understand," said Bamban."Why, I saw such a love—but there was no child. They died—in a room at Minglapo's house.... They did not have time—""You mean the General—""Yes—""His work was finished.""But his woman wanted a baby. She told me long ago—""Perhaps she saw at the last that it was better to go—""I am afraid—afraid to-night—tired and done. I won't fail. I won't lie down—but I thought he would be here to take me—""He will come," said Bamban.Romney was looking up at the lustrous film of night. His lips moved again:"He said the builders were coming to lift the earth—that the saints were coming, for he could hear their songs—that the heroes were coming with light about their heads, their voices beautiful with the story of God—that they must come from the love of man and woman here—but they reach that love only to die—""My master must sleep," said Bamban."I am very far from sleep," said Romney; but the other pressed him down, and the small hard hand was in his, and there was no yellow and white between them. And almost instantly, Romney slept.He awakened in a smoky red light, started up to see the heads of camels and horses against the east; then a voice:"My son, all is well. You will arise and go to the beloved who waits for you in the hills of my country—not far from this place."The ancient shaven head emerged from the yellow robe, so near that Romney had not perceived it until after the distance had unfolded its objects. Romney leaned forward and took him in his arms."Tell me again—is she well? Is all well with her?""Yes—her face turned to us. And now arise and break your fast, my son, for you are worn dark and dry from much fasting. I have brought you milk and fresh fruit, such as the desert does not furnish."Straight north they travelled until noon was high. The white dromedary had an escort of eight camels, including Romney's pair, and some twenty desert horsemen. They were entirely off travel lines, and Romney realised that the way was kept closed to commerce between Nadiram and Wampli by the desert-parties, chiefly to protect this northern way to the country of Rajananda.... In the afternoon they followed for two hours the path of an ancient river-bed, and entered, when the shadows gathered, a land of rocky hills—the beasts quickened their pace under the scent of water.... At sunset, by a spring, Romney's camel kneeled. The escort vanished. Bamban unfolded fresh white clothing. Romney was granted the luxury of a bath.Ahead was verdure and a temple. It was low, and there was a walled garden to the side, the green foliage hanging over the stones.... Beyond was a village that looked as if it had been born again from a ruin. It was strange as a dream—cattle feeding peacefully in the dip of land between the temple and the town. Night was creeping in.Even Bamban had vanished. There was silence. Romney emerged from the sheltering leaves of the spring, his eyes fixed upon the temple.... There was a voice:"Ah, do not keep me longer from him!"... A strange altering of time and space—a wavering brightness in the dusk—a woman's figure in the gateway of the garden wall."My man! My man!"She was running to him, her arms held forward. His own limbs stumbled, for the full power of his life went from him to her breast.... They were alone.... They entered the garden of the temple together.... Her arms did not leave him, yet they were about his knees, and words came to him leaning forward:"... Remember—that night as we journeyed forward by swiftest camels—the risen star in our eyes—the quest in our hearts?"Romney caught her up in his arms and stilled her whispering lips against his own.THE END.*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKTHE LAST DITCH***
2
Romney was changed. The thing called civilisation settled back. Only the spirit of that which he had passed through remained with him from past days. All seemed closed, integrated. He travelled light. There was no menace, no apparent pursuit. He could not hold the continual wariness. Fear slipped from him before he rejoined Bamban at Tushi-kow. They were on the road to Turgim with two camels and one driver with provisions. Romney leaned forward.
Sometimes it was like a terrible thirst. The pictures of the past no longer fed his heart. They too were completely integrated. He wanted the living woman again—her voice and hands, her sweet and sacred mysteries. He was burned with waiting. The actual resistance of the miles of sand and rock against the tread of swift camels was a peculiar and persistent deviltry. His sleep was brief and fragmentary. Only lovers and great workmen can endure such sleeplessness. Many times each night he awakened to see the greater stars moved but a short step westward.... Turgim, that had meant so much in approach, was nothing but a night-camp upon arrival. Ahead was another long barren stretch to Nadiram; every hour had to be wrestled back. His images all had to do with a certain coming hour.
From a white man's standpoint he had little to count on. His woman had been torn away by a desert-band—only the promise of a withered ancient creature whose next breath was less than a good gambling chance, yet Rajananda had bulked mightily in his heart. In his best moments he had faith—a priceless winning. From a white man's standpoint, he was on the longest possible chance, but only in the darker and more terrible passages could Romney accept this.... There was one moment of starlight, the last night of riding between Turgim and Nadiram, when he really had a great moment.
It was in solitude, as all such visitations arrive. Bamban was on the other camel with the driver, since provisions were down to small compass. He had fallen into a deep reverie and came-to with his hands out, palms stretched upward, eyes turned to the stars, his lips moving with a sentence like this:
"It's the love of the Long Road. I have found her. No man can spoil that. I will find her again—if not now, when the time comes—if not here, there—"
Romney laughed at the stars. He had been listening to his own soul, perhaps. It was stronger than he. He wanted her here and now; but the fact that the sentences had come through to his brain, had a significance that he was deeply-grounded enough in life to understand. And his palms had been stretched out. That meant submission, the world over.
He laughed again. He was very far from the world just now. Cities—even China—had distressed him. He must reach calm on that. He must go back and master that terror of men. The desert had given him a tithe of her mysticism and power. He would have to go back and make it tell among men. Would he have to go back alone?
Nifton Bend had mastered himself in the midst of men. Romney gripped a fuller understanding. The Hunchback had passed this barrier—after that his mate came to him. They were a completed circle—one even in their dying.... He would love to tell Anna Erivan that story.... In the very strength of his submission, his faith grew. The word of Rajananda returned. There had been no doubt in what the old master said. Anna Erivan was to wait for him in the hill-country. All that Rajananda had said about other things had been fulfilled.... And Nifton Bend had followed his own into the deeper dreaming. What did he mean by that? He seemed so glad to go, even though their lives were most beautiful together.
The next day Romney squinted up at the sun. Something of the same power came to him again. There was a cross in the blinding light, and after that a full sheaf of golden wheat. Of course it might have been only the glare in his eyes, but he felt very strong and that he would bring something of different manhood to the woman who waited for him.
Romney leaned forward.
Bamban accepted him. There were no two ways now. He had bowed in silence long after the story of the end of Minglapo, even lamenting a little that he had not been there. But Rajananda had somehow put a seal on his service to the white man. Romney regarded theboyas he had never been quite able to do before, and respected the nature capable of such awe and reverence for the holy man. More especially admirable had Bamban proved on this last swift lonely journey.... They sat together during a long evening in the stone court of the Consulate at Nadiram (the door shut, the pole empty where the Russian flag had hung, and the hyenas whimpering afar off).
"I'd like to go on to-night," Romney muttered.
"It would kill the camels. They have been pressed as never before."
"Did you ask if there were two new camels here—exchange or rent?"
"Nothing of the kind."
"I shall wait."
"My master is parched," said Bamban.
When his servant went to the Rest House, Romney remained to contemplate his world a little from the west wall where he had sat so many nights. At last he arose and went to the door where she had stood—the place of their first meeting—and knelt a moment on the stone.
Even the next day the camels travelled but slowly. The same pair had come from Tushi-kow and they needed the rest of many days. From Nadiram to the place of the thonged stakes required two full days' travel; indeed, the night had fallen before they reached this point on the road to Wampli, and no desert-band was encountered on the journey.... The night was very still and hot. For two days a south wind had blown, and they breathed now the burning of the lower borders of the desert.
A deserted world. Romney could not eat. With deep strange kindness, theboypressed him to drink his tea. The white man had come and there was no sign. His head was heavy on his breast. When his thoughts became too swift and torturing for stillness, he arose from the fire and walked to the place of the stakes. From there he followed the way to the point where he had fallen in his revolt against the natives.... They had taken her on from this point—just here he was carried to the camel.... The sentences of the old master on that last day recurred persistently now.
"... He said that man goes alone on his mission and that woman waits. He said that the woman I had found was to wait in sanctuary.... He seemed to love her, too, Bamban—"
"Yes, he called her his daughter, and spoke twice of her filling his bowl in the stone square at Nadiram—"
"He said that he was going to her," Romney went on, his words heavy and slow, "—that she was waiting for me in the hills of his country—not far from this place."
"He will come soon," said Bamban, who was stretching out the blankets.
"He said there must be a new and different love between man and woman in the world. But, my God! they die! They seem to die when they love like that—"
"I do not understand," said Bamban.
"Why, I saw such a love—but there was no child. They died—in a room at Minglapo's house.... They did not have time—"
"You mean the General—"
"Yes—"
"His work was finished."
"But his woman wanted a baby. She told me long ago—"
"Perhaps she saw at the last that it was better to go—"
"I am afraid—afraid to-night—tired and done. I won't fail. I won't lie down—but I thought he would be here to take me—"
"He will come," said Bamban.
Romney was looking up at the lustrous film of night. His lips moved again:
"He said the builders were coming to lift the earth—that the saints were coming, for he could hear their songs—that the heroes were coming with light about their heads, their voices beautiful with the story of God—that they must come from the love of man and woman here—but they reach that love only to die—"
"My master must sleep," said Bamban.
"I am very far from sleep," said Romney; but the other pressed him down, and the small hard hand was in his, and there was no yellow and white between them. And almost instantly, Romney slept.
He awakened in a smoky red light, started up to see the heads of camels and horses against the east; then a voice:
"My son, all is well. You will arise and go to the beloved who waits for you in the hills of my country—not far from this place."
The ancient shaven head emerged from the yellow robe, so near that Romney had not perceived it until after the distance had unfolded its objects. Romney leaned forward and took him in his arms.
"Tell me again—is she well? Is all well with her?"
"Yes—her face turned to us. And now arise and break your fast, my son, for you are worn dark and dry from much fasting. I have brought you milk and fresh fruit, such as the desert does not furnish."
Straight north they travelled until noon was high. The white dromedary had an escort of eight camels, including Romney's pair, and some twenty desert horsemen. They were entirely off travel lines, and Romney realised that the way was kept closed to commerce between Nadiram and Wampli by the desert-parties, chiefly to protect this northern way to the country of Rajananda.... In the afternoon they followed for two hours the path of an ancient river-bed, and entered, when the shadows gathered, a land of rocky hills—the beasts quickened their pace under the scent of water.... At sunset, by a spring, Romney's camel kneeled. The escort vanished. Bamban unfolded fresh white clothing. Romney was granted the luxury of a bath.
Ahead was verdure and a temple. It was low, and there was a walled garden to the side, the green foliage hanging over the stones.... Beyond was a village that looked as if it had been born again from a ruin. It was strange as a dream—cattle feeding peacefully in the dip of land between the temple and the town. Night was creeping in.
Even Bamban had vanished. There was silence. Romney emerged from the sheltering leaves of the spring, his eyes fixed upon the temple.... There was a voice:
"Ah, do not keep me longer from him!"
... A strange altering of time and space—a wavering brightness in the dusk—a woman's figure in the gateway of the garden wall.
"My man! My man!"
She was running to him, her arms held forward. His own limbs stumbled, for the full power of his life went from him to her breast.... They were alone.... They entered the garden of the temple together.... Her arms did not leave him, yet they were about his knees, and words came to him leaning forward:
"... Remember—that night as we journeyed forward by swiftest camels—the risen star in our eyes—the quest in our hearts?"
Romney caught her up in his arms and stilled her whispering lips against his own.
THE END.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKTHE LAST DITCH***