on the frontier-第8章

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They　were　the　last　words　he　addressed　them。　　For　when　the　fog　had

begun　to　creep　inshore；　hastening　their　departure；　he　only　answered

their　farewells　by　a　silent　pressure　of　the　hand；　mute　lips；　and

far…off　eyes。



When　the　sound　of　their　laboring　oars　grew　fainter；　he　told　Antonio

to　lead　him　and　Sanchicha　again　to　the　buried　boat。　　There　he　bade

her　kneel　beside　him。　　〃We　will　do　penance　here；　thou　and　I；

daughter；〃　he　said　gravely。　　When　the　fog　had　drawn　its　curtain

gently　around　the　strange　pair；　and　sea　and　shore　were　blotted　out；

he　whispered；　〃Tell　me；　it　was　even　so；　was　it　not；　daughter；　on

the　night　she　came？〃　　When　the　distant　clatter　of　blocks　and　rattle

of　cordage　came　from　the　unseen　vessel；　now　standing　out　to　sea；　he

whispered　again；　〃So；　this　is　what　thou　didst　hear；　even　then。〃

And　so　during　the　night　he　marked；　more　or　less　audibly　to　the

half…conscious　woman　at　his　side；　the　low　whisper　of　the　waves；　the

murmur　of　the　far…off　breakers；　the　lightening　and　thickening　of

the　fog；　the　phantoms　of　moving　shapes；　and　the　slow　coming　of　the

dawn。　　And　when　the　morning　sun　had　rent　the　veil　over　land　and

sea；　Antonio　and　Jose　found　him；　haggard；　but　erect；　beside　the

trembling　old　woman；　with　a　blessing　on　his　lips；　pointing　to　the

horizon　where　a　single　sail　still　glimmered：



　　　　　　　　　　〃Va　Usted　con　Dios。〃







A　BLUE　GRASS　PENELOPE





CHAPTER　I





She　was　barely　twenty…three　years　old。　　It　is　probable　that　up　to

that　age；　and　the　beginning　of　this　episode；　her　life　had　been

uneventful。　　Born　to　the　easy　mediocrity　of　such　compensating

extremes　as　a　small　farmhouse　and　large　lands；　a　good　position　and

no　society；　in　that　vast　grazing　district　of　Kentucky　known　as　the

〃Blue　Grass〃　region；　all　the　possibilities　of　a　Western　American

girl's　existence　lay　before　her。　　A　piano　in　the　bare…walled　house；

the　latest　patented　mower　in　the　limitless　meadows；　and　a　silk

dress　sweeping　the　rough　floor　of　the　unpainted　〃meeting…house〃

were　already　the　promise　of　those　possibilities。　　Beautiful　she

was；　but　the　power　of　that　beauty　was　limited　by　being　equally

shared　with　her　few　neighbors。　　There　were　small；　narrow；　arched

feet　besides　her　own　that　trod　the　uncarpeted　floors　of　outlying

log…cabins　with　equal　grace　and　dignity；　bright；　clearly　opened

eyes　that　were　equally　capable　of　looking　unabashed　upon　princes

and　potentates；　as　a　few　later　did；　and　the　heiress　of　the　county

judge　read　her　own　beauty　without　envy　in　the　frank　glances　and

unlowered　crest　of　the　blacksmith's　daughter。　　Eventually　she　had

married　the　male　of　her　species；　a　young　stranger；　who；　as

schoolmaster　in　the　nearest　town；　had　utilized　to　some　local　extent

a　scant　capital　of　education。　　In　obedience　to　the　unwritten　law　of

the　West；　after　the　marriage　was　celebrated　the　doors　of　the

ancestral　home　cheerfully　opened；　and　bride　and　bridegroom　issued

forth；　without　regret　and　without　sentiment；　to　seek　the　further

possibilities　of　a　life　beyond　these　already　too　familiar　voices。

With　their　departure　for　California　as　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Spencer　Tucker；

the　parental　nest　in　the　Blue　Grass　meadows　knew　them　no　more。



They　submitted　with　equal　cheerfulness　to　the　privations　and

excesses　of　their　new　conditions。　　Within　three　years　the

schoolmaster　developed　into　a　lawyer　and　capitalist；　the　Blue　Grass

bride　supplying　a　grace　and　ease　to　these　transitions　that　were　all

her　own。　　She　softened　the　abruptness　of　sudden　wealth；　mitigated

the　austerities　of　newly　acquired　power；　and　made　the　most　glaring

incongruity　picturesque。　　Only　one　thing　seemed　to　limit　their

progress　in　the　region　of　these　possibilities。　　They　were

childless。　　It　was　as　if　they　had　exhausted　the　future　in　their　own

youth；　leaving　little　or　nothing　for　another　generation　to　do。





A　southwesterly　storm　was　beating　against　the　dressing…room　windows

of　their　new　house　in　one　of　the　hilly　suburbs　of　San　Francisco；

and　threatening　the　unseasonable　frivolity　of　the　stucco

ornamentation　of　cornice　and　balcony。　　Mrs。　Tucker　had　been　called

from　the　contemplation　of　the　dreary　prospect　without　by　the

arrival　of　a　visitor。　　On　entering　the　drawing…room　she　found　him

engaged　in　a　half…admiring；　half…resentful　examination　of　its　new

furniture　and　hangings。　　Mrs。　Tucker　at　once　recognized　Mr。　Calhoun

Weaver；　a　former　Blue　Grass　neighbor；　with　swift　feminine　intuition

she　also　felt　that　his　slight　antagonism　was　likely　to　be

transferred　from　her　furniture　to　herself。　　Waiving　it　with　the

lazy　amiability　of　Southern　indifference；　she　welcomed　him　by　the

familiarity　of　a　Christian　name。



〃I　reckoned　that　mebbee　you　opined　old　Blue　Grass　friends　wouldn't

naturally　hitch　on　to　them　fancy　doins；〃　he　said；　glancing　around

the　apartment　to　avoid　her　clear　eyes；　as　if　resolutely　setting

himself　against　the　old　charm　of　her　manner　as　he　had　against　the

more　recent　glory　of　her　surroundings；　〃but　I　thought　I'd　just　drop

in　for　the　sake　of　old　times。〃



〃Why　shouldn't　you；　Cal？〃　said　Mrs。　Tucker　with　a　frank　smile。



〃Especially　as　I'm　going　up　to　Sacramento　to…night　with　some

influential　friends；〃　he　continued；　with　an　ostentation　calculated

to　resist　the　assumption　of　her　charms　and　her　furniture。　　〃Senator

Dyce　of　Kentucky；　and　his　cousin　Judge　Briggs；　perhaps　you　know

'em；　or　may　be　SpencerI　mean　Mr。　Tuckerdoes。〃



〃I　reckon；〃　said　Mrs。　Tucker　smiling；　〃but　tell　me　something　about

the　boys　and　girls　at　Vineville；　and　about　yourself。　　YOU'RE

looking　well；　and　right　smart　too。〃　　She　paused　to　give　due

emphasis　to　this　latter　recognition　of　a　huge　gold　chain　with　which

her　visitor　was　somewhat　ostentatiously　trifling。



〃I　didn't　know　as　you　cared　to　hear　anything　about　Blue　Grass；〃　he

returned；　a　little　abashed。　　〃I've　been　away　from　there　some　time

myself；〃　he　added；　his　uneasy　vanity　taking　fresh　alarm　at　the

faint　suspicion　of　patronage　on　the　part　of　his　hostess。　　〃They're

doin'　well；　though；　perhaps　as　well　as　some　others。〃



〃And　you're　not　married　yet；〃　continued　Mrs。　Tucker；　oblivious　of

the　innuendo。　　〃Ah；　Cal；〃　she　added　archly；　〃I　am　afraid　you　are　as

fickle　as　ever。　　What　poor　girl　in　Vineville　have　you　left　pining？〃



The　simple　face　of　the　man　before　her　flushed　with　foolish

gratification　at　this　old…fashioned；　ambiguous　flattery。　　〃Now　look

yer；　Belle；〃　he　said；　chuckling；　〃if　you're　talking　of　old　times

and　you　think　I　bear　malice　agin　Spencer；　why〃



But　Mrs。　Tucker　interrupted　what　might　have　been　an　inopportune

sentimental　retrospect　with　a　finger　of　arch　but　languid　warning。

〃That　will　do！　　I'm　dying　to　know　all　about　it；　and　you　must　stay

to　dinner　and　tell　me。　　It's　right　mean　you　can't　see　Spencer　too；

but　he　isn't　back　from　Sacramento　yet。〃



Grateful　as　a　tete…a…tete　with　his　old　neighbor　in　her　more

prosperous　surroundings　would　have　been；　if　only　for　the　sake　of

later　gossiping　about　it；　he　felt　it　would　be　inconsistent　with　his

pride　and　his　assumption　of　present　business。　　More　than　that；　he

was　uneasily　conscious　that　in　Mrs。　Tucker's　simple　and　unaffected

manner　there　was　a　greater　superiority　than　he　had　ever　noticed

during　their　previous　acquaintance。　　He　would　have　felt　kinder　to

her　had　she　shown　any　〃airs　and　graces；〃　which　he　could　have

commented　upon　and　forgiven。　　He　stammered　some　vague　excuse　of

preoccupation；　yet　lingered　in　the　hope　of　saying　something　which；

if　not　aggressively　unpleasant；　might　at　least　transfer　to　her

indolent　serenity　some　of　his　own　irritation。　　〃I　reckon；〃　he　said；

as　he　moved　hesitatingly　towards　the　door；　〃that　Spencer　has　made

himself　easy　and　secure　in　them　business　risks　he's　taking。　　That

'ere　Alameda　ditch　affair　they're　talking　so　much　about　is　a　mighty

big　thing；　rather　TOO　big　if　it　ever　got　to　falling　back　on　him。

But　I　suppose　he's　accustomed　to　take　risks？〃



〃Of　course　he　is；〃　said　Mrs。　Tucker　gayly。　　〃He　married　ME。〃



The　visitor　smiled　feebly；　but　was　not　equal　to　the　opportunity

offered　for　gallant　repudiation。　　〃But　suppose　you　ain't　accustomed

to　risks？〃



〃Why　not？　　I　married　HIM；〃　said　Mrs。　Tucker。



Mr。　Calhoun　Weaver　was　human；　and　succumbed　to　this　last　charming

audacity。　　He　broke　into　a　noisy　but　genuine　laugh；　shook　Mrs。

Tucker's　hand　with　effusion；　said；　〃Now　that's　regular　Blue　Grass

and　no　mistake！〃　and　retreated　under　cover　of　his　hilarity。　　In　the

hall　he　made　a　rallying　stand　to　repeat　confidentially　to　the

servant　who　had　overheard　them：　〃Blue　Grass；　all　over；　you　bet　your

life；〃　and；　opening　the　door；　was　apparently　swallowed　up　in　the

tempest。



Mrs。　Tucker's　smile　kept　her　lips　until　she　had　returned　to　her

room；　and　even　then　languidly　shone　in　her　eyes　for　some　minutes

after；　as　she　gazed　abstractedly　from　her　window　on　the　storm…

tossed　bay　in　the　distance。　　Perhaps　some　girlish　vision　of　the

peaceful　Blue　Glass　plain　momentarily　usurped　the　prospect；　but　it

is　to　be　doubted　if　there　was　much　romance　in　that　retrospect；　or

that　it　was　more　interesting　to　her　than　the　positive　and　sharply

cut　outlines　of　the　practical　life　she　now　held。　　Howbeit　she　soon

forgot　this　fancy　in　lazily　watching　a　boat　that；　in　the　teeth　of

the　gale；　was　beating　round　Alcatraz　Island。　　Although　at　times　a

mere　blank　speck　on　the　gray　waste　of　foam；　a　closer　scrutiny

showed　it　to　be　one　of　those　lateen…rigged　Italian　fishing　boats

that　so　often　flecked　the　distant　bay。　　Lost　in　the　sudden

darkening　of　rain；　or　reappearing　beneath　the　lifted　curtain　of　the

squall；　she　watched　it　weather　the　island；　and　then　turn　its

laboring　but　persistent　course　towards　the　open　channel。　　A　rent　in

the　Indian…inky　sky；　that　showed　the　narrowing　portals　of　the

Golden　Gate　beyond；　revealed；　as　unexpectedly；　the　destination　of

the　little　craft；　a　tall　ship　that　hitherto　lay　hidden　in　the　mist

of　the　Saucelito　shore。　　As　the　distance　lessened　between　boat　and

ship；　they　were　again　lost　in　the　downward　swoop　of　another　squall。

When　it　lifted；　the　ship　was　creeping　under　the　headland　towards

the　open　sea；　but　the　boat　was　gone。　　Mrs。　Tucker　in　vain　rubbed

the　pane　with　her　handkerchief；　it　had　vanished。　　Meanwhile　the

ship；　as　she　neared　the　Gate；　drew　out　from　the　protecting

headland；　stood　outlined　for　a　moment　with　spars　and　canvas　hearsed

in　black　against　the　lurid　rent　in　the　horizon；　and　then　seemed　to

sink　slowly　into　the　heaving　obscurity　beyond。　　A　sudden　onset　of

rain　against　the　windows　obliterated　the　remaining　prospect；　the

entrance　of　a　servant　completed　the　diversion。



〃Captain　Poindexter；　ma'am！〃



Mrs。　Tucker　lifted　her　pretty　eyebrows　interrogatively。　　Captain

Poindexter　was　a　legal　friend　of　her　husband；　and　had　dined　there

frequently；　nevertheless　she　asked：　〃Did　you　tell　him　Mr。　Tucker

was　not　at　home？〃



〃Yes；　'm。〃



〃Did　he　ask　for　ME？〃



〃Yes；　'm。〃



〃Tell　him　I