CHAPTER XXVIINat-u-ritch stole down from the loft and crept to where Jim had stood. Unconsciously she repeated the same picture of desolation he had made as he stretched out his arms and strained his eyes to see the wagon disappear down the ravine, which the Indian girl could now see far off, like an ant on a hill, as it crawled up the dun-colored mound. Like him, she folded her arms and stared ahead for a long time—even though the blinding light blurred and made the landscape a chaotic meeting of sky and earth.But, unlike him, no sobs shook her tiny body; erect and resolute she stood, then turned and noiselessly came down behind the weeping man. In wondering pity she watched him, then crossed to the house and entered it. She quickly returned with the small revolver in her hand; but her soft-shod feet made no sound, and Jim, unconscious of her presence, still sat with his head on his knees. As she caught sight of the tiny moccasins the child had left lying on the bench, she wavered a moment, but she only paused to pick them up and press them against her wildly beating heart. She had but one thought—escape from the pain that gnawed and tormented her.Without the boy, and with the look she feared she must face daily in Jim's eyes, she knew she could not endure life. There was no rebellion, only acceptance of her fate, as she crept close behind Jim, the moccasins covering the steel weapon. Worn out, Jim still remained with head bowed, a physical stupor of fatigue almost dulling his sorrow. Nat-u-ritch's quick ear heard the voices of the returning men, and she darted across to the corral and disappeared behind the barn. But even that did not arouse Jim.Shorty, Andy, and Grouchy hurried after Bill, who was coming back to look after Jim. Shorty grasped Bill's arm, wheeled him about, and pointed in the direction the carriage had taken."What are they bringing them back for, Bill?" he asked.Bill swore a mighty oath as he saw the wagon headed for the cabin, with Bud and his posse surrounding it. He must prevent a meeting between Jim and Bud if possible."Don't say a word," he whispered to the boys as he caught sight of Jim. "We'll get him into the house."He came down to Jim and tenderly laid his hand on his shoulder. "Jim, old man, you haven't had any sleep; go in and rest awhile."Jim looked up at Bill, who pulled him to his feet, then started to lead him towards the cabin. He could fight the physical weariness no longer."Oh, I'll be all right soon, Bill."Bill, as though humoring a child, said: "Sure. We've all got to get kind of used to it. Sleep's the thing to put you right."They reached the cabin door. Jim dully echoed, "Sleep—sure, sleep, Bill." Then Bill closed the door on him."Shorty," he called, "you and Grouchy stand outside of that door, and don't you let him out of there until we can get Bud Hardy away." He meant to hurry and meet the wagon before it could reach the yard, but as he spoke he heard the men and horses and knew that it was useless.Andy, who had been watching farther down the road, ran towards him. "Bill," he called, "Bud Hardy's here." As he spoke, Bud and his men advanced, followed by Diana and the child, while Sir John and Petrie stood close to them."Bud," Bill began, in a quick, low voice, "Jim ain't in any mood to be trifled with to-day. What in hell do you mean by stopping these people when I ordered you off the place?" He blurted out the words as though fearful of the impulse that drove him to do bodily harm to the Sheriff.With a sneer Bud answered, "I told you I would hold these people as witnesses, and now I want Nat-u-ritch."Before Bill could remonstrate, there was a hoarse cry from the house. They heard Jim wildly saying, as he rushed to Bill:"Where is it? Where is it? It's gone—gone! Who took it? Bill, did you put that little gun back in the room as I told you?""That I did, boss."As Jim stood in the yard he failed to see Diana or the child. He saw only the great form of the Sheriff, with his men around him, and he knew that mischief was afoot."You here, damn you!" He made a movement to reach Bud, but was restrained by Shorty and Grouchy. Then he saw that the entire party had been taken into custody. Before he could expostulate, a shot rang out."What was that!"Bill ran to the barn. Jim followed him, but was stopped at the door by Bill."Jim," he cried, "it's Nat-u-ritch."Before either of them could reach the tiny form they saw Tabywana lean over and pick up the child-woman in his arms. He had found her, but too late.Diana, holding the child and followed by Petrie and Sir John, drew back into the corner of the porch. Bud and his men, who had lost their prey, slunk away. Only his faithful men stood by Jim as Tabywana advanced, carrying in his arms the dead Nat-u-ritch. From her hands dangled the tiny baby shoes.Tabywana held out the lifeless body to Jim. In death as in life, she belonged to her master."Poor little mother! Poor little mother!" Jim whispered.CHAPTER XXVIIIThe fields were golden-tipped with mustard-flower, while a haze as golden touched and glinted the green of the encircling hills. A riot of vernal glory met Jim's eyes as he walked through the lanes that led to the Towers.Six months had passed since Diana and Hal had left him, and until now the West with its memories had held him. He had written that he would be with them on this day, but he wished to return quietly. Only Diana and the child knew of his expected arrival.The soft summer heat had brought into blossom every wild flower in glen and roadway; the great trees seemed heavy with the fragrant breezes that wafted through their leaves. As he had gone from home, so he wished to return to it—alone. A tumult of emotions battled within him as he approached the entrance to the Towers. He found the heavy doors opened wide as though expectant of a visitor. As he stood on the threshold the clock of the church-tower struck twelve. It was noon—the high noon of his life.From the hall he heard a voice cry, "Welcome home, daddy!"He turned to see his boy, changed even during the short separation—but stronger, more beautiful, a veritable princeling—holding out his eager little arms. And his boy, standing alone in the great hallway of the home of their ancestors, welcomed Jim to his own. As he held the child close to him, his eyes searched for Diana, and as the boy rained kisses on his face, Jim said:"Cousin Di—where is she?"The child smiled, and, slipping down to the ground, took hold of his father's hand and started to draw him down the corridor that led to the garden."Cousin Di is waiting for you in the Fairies' Corner," said the child. "We go there to play, you know, and listen for the fairies."Jim did not speak, but the child prattled on as he led him across the green grass, past the swaying, flaunting hollyhocks and the beds of old-fashioned, fragrant flowers that lined the walks. The songs of birds filled the air—linnet, lark, and thrush seemed carolling a welcome to him. But Jim hardly heard what the boy said. He could see only the waving tree-tops of the mysterious Corner in the distance."Cousin Di!" the child called, as he ran ahead to herald his father's coming.Beyond, the path and garden were bathed in strong sunlight; the heavens were full of drifting azure clouds. Over all was the dazzling, bewildering glory of the noonday splendor, and before Jim stood Diana, a gracious figure, at the entrance to the enchanted spot. On her face a tender love answered all that his eyes asked. Behind her he could see deep into the Fairies' Corner; in there all was peaceful; only golden cobwebs of sunlight dappled the leaves and scattered the enshrouding gloom.Neither Jim nor Diana spoke. The boy's attention was claimed by a vivacious wag-tail that chirruped at his feet, then fluttered away to be pursued by him. Once he turned to smile back a reassurance of his joy at his father's return, but he could not see him.Diana and Jim had entered the Fairies' Corner, and this time they heard the flutter of wings—the wings of their love as it enfolded them in its peace and holy joy.THE END*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKTHE SQUAW MAN***
CHAPTER XXVII
Nat-u-ritch stole down from the loft and crept to where Jim had stood. Unconsciously she repeated the same picture of desolation he had made as he stretched out his arms and strained his eyes to see the wagon disappear down the ravine, which the Indian girl could now see far off, like an ant on a hill, as it crawled up the dun-colored mound. Like him, she folded her arms and stared ahead for a long time—even though the blinding light blurred and made the landscape a chaotic meeting of sky and earth.
But, unlike him, no sobs shook her tiny body; erect and resolute she stood, then turned and noiselessly came down behind the weeping man. In wondering pity she watched him, then crossed to the house and entered it. She quickly returned with the small revolver in her hand; but her soft-shod feet made no sound, and Jim, unconscious of her presence, still sat with his head on his knees. As she caught sight of the tiny moccasins the child had left lying on the bench, she wavered a moment, but she only paused to pick them up and press them against her wildly beating heart. She had but one thought—escape from the pain that gnawed and tormented her.
Without the boy, and with the look she feared she must face daily in Jim's eyes, she knew she could not endure life. There was no rebellion, only acceptance of her fate, as she crept close behind Jim, the moccasins covering the steel weapon. Worn out, Jim still remained with head bowed, a physical stupor of fatigue almost dulling his sorrow. Nat-u-ritch's quick ear heard the voices of the returning men, and she darted across to the corral and disappeared behind the barn. But even that did not arouse Jim.
Shorty, Andy, and Grouchy hurried after Bill, who was coming back to look after Jim. Shorty grasped Bill's arm, wheeled him about, and pointed in the direction the carriage had taken.
"What are they bringing them back for, Bill?" he asked.
Bill swore a mighty oath as he saw the wagon headed for the cabin, with Bud and his posse surrounding it. He must prevent a meeting between Jim and Bud if possible.
"Don't say a word," he whispered to the boys as he caught sight of Jim. "We'll get him into the house."
He came down to Jim and tenderly laid his hand on his shoulder. "Jim, old man, you haven't had any sleep; go in and rest awhile."
Jim looked up at Bill, who pulled him to his feet, then started to lead him towards the cabin. He could fight the physical weariness no longer.
"Oh, I'll be all right soon, Bill."
Bill, as though humoring a child, said: "Sure. We've all got to get kind of used to it. Sleep's the thing to put you right."
They reached the cabin door. Jim dully echoed, "Sleep—sure, sleep, Bill." Then Bill closed the door on him.
"Shorty," he called, "you and Grouchy stand outside of that door, and don't you let him out of there until we can get Bud Hardy away." He meant to hurry and meet the wagon before it could reach the yard, but as he spoke he heard the men and horses and knew that it was useless.
Andy, who had been watching farther down the road, ran towards him. "Bill," he called, "Bud Hardy's here." As he spoke, Bud and his men advanced, followed by Diana and the child, while Sir John and Petrie stood close to them.
"Bud," Bill began, in a quick, low voice, "Jim ain't in any mood to be trifled with to-day. What in hell do you mean by stopping these people when I ordered you off the place?" He blurted out the words as though fearful of the impulse that drove him to do bodily harm to the Sheriff.
With a sneer Bud answered, "I told you I would hold these people as witnesses, and now I want Nat-u-ritch."
Before Bill could remonstrate, there was a hoarse cry from the house. They heard Jim wildly saying, as he rushed to Bill:
"Where is it? Where is it? It's gone—gone! Who took it? Bill, did you put that little gun back in the room as I told you?"
"That I did, boss."
As Jim stood in the yard he failed to see Diana or the child. He saw only the great form of the Sheriff, with his men around him, and he knew that mischief was afoot.
"You here, damn you!" He made a movement to reach Bud, but was restrained by Shorty and Grouchy. Then he saw that the entire party had been taken into custody. Before he could expostulate, a shot rang out.
"What was that!"
Bill ran to the barn. Jim followed him, but was stopped at the door by Bill.
"Jim," he cried, "it's Nat-u-ritch."
Before either of them could reach the tiny form they saw Tabywana lean over and pick up the child-woman in his arms. He had found her, but too late.
Diana, holding the child and followed by Petrie and Sir John, drew back into the corner of the porch. Bud and his men, who had lost their prey, slunk away. Only his faithful men stood by Jim as Tabywana advanced, carrying in his arms the dead Nat-u-ritch. From her hands dangled the tiny baby shoes.
Tabywana held out the lifeless body to Jim. In death as in life, she belonged to her master.
"Poor little mother! Poor little mother!" Jim whispered.
CHAPTER XXVIII
The fields were golden-tipped with mustard-flower, while a haze as golden touched and glinted the green of the encircling hills. A riot of vernal glory met Jim's eyes as he walked through the lanes that led to the Towers.
Six months had passed since Diana and Hal had left him, and until now the West with its memories had held him. He had written that he would be with them on this day, but he wished to return quietly. Only Diana and the child knew of his expected arrival.
The soft summer heat had brought into blossom every wild flower in glen and roadway; the great trees seemed heavy with the fragrant breezes that wafted through their leaves. As he had gone from home, so he wished to return to it—alone. A tumult of emotions battled within him as he approached the entrance to the Towers. He found the heavy doors opened wide as though expectant of a visitor. As he stood on the threshold the clock of the church-tower struck twelve. It was noon—the high noon of his life.
From the hall he heard a voice cry, "Welcome home, daddy!"
He turned to see his boy, changed even during the short separation—but stronger, more beautiful, a veritable princeling—holding out his eager little arms. And his boy, standing alone in the great hallway of the home of their ancestors, welcomed Jim to his own. As he held the child close to him, his eyes searched for Diana, and as the boy rained kisses on his face, Jim said:
"Cousin Di—where is she?"
The child smiled, and, slipping down to the ground, took hold of his father's hand and started to draw him down the corridor that led to the garden.
"Cousin Di is waiting for you in the Fairies' Corner," said the child. "We go there to play, you know, and listen for the fairies."
Jim did not speak, but the child prattled on as he led him across the green grass, past the swaying, flaunting hollyhocks and the beds of old-fashioned, fragrant flowers that lined the walks. The songs of birds filled the air—linnet, lark, and thrush seemed carolling a welcome to him. But Jim hardly heard what the boy said. He could see only the waving tree-tops of the mysterious Corner in the distance.
"Cousin Di!" the child called, as he ran ahead to herald his father's coming.
Beyond, the path and garden were bathed in strong sunlight; the heavens were full of drifting azure clouds. Over all was the dazzling, bewildering glory of the noonday splendor, and before Jim stood Diana, a gracious figure, at the entrance to the enchanted spot. On her face a tender love answered all that his eyes asked. Behind her he could see deep into the Fairies' Corner; in there all was peaceful; only golden cobwebs of sunlight dappled the leaves and scattered the enshrouding gloom.
Neither Jim nor Diana spoke. The boy's attention was claimed by a vivacious wag-tail that chirruped at his feet, then fluttered away to be pursued by him. Once he turned to smile back a reassurance of his joy at his father's return, but he could not see him.
Diana and Jim had entered the Fairies' Corner, and this time they heard the flutter of wings—the wings of their love as it enfolded them in its peace and holy joy.
THE END
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKTHE SQUAW MAN***