Shadow Mountain

by Dane Coolidge

  CHAPTER XXX

  AN EVENING WITH SOCRATES

  How the Colonel had come to be reported dead it was easy enough now tosurmise. Some desperate fugitive, or rambling hobo miner seeking acrosscut to the Borax Mines below, had raided his camp in his absence;and, riding off on his burro, had met his death in a sandstorm. Hiswere the tracks that the Indians had followed and somewhere in DeathValley he lay beneath the sand dunes in place of a better man. But theColonel--did he know that his family had mourned him as dead, andbandied his stock back and forth? Did he know that the Paymaster hadbeen bonded and opened up, and lost again to Blount? And what would behis answer if he knew the man before him was the son of Honest JohnHolman? Wiley closed down his lips, then he took the outstretched handand looked the Colonel straight in the eye.

  "I'm sorry, sir," he said, "that I can't give you my name or tell youwhere I'm from; but I've got a bottle of whiskey that will more thanmake up for the loss of that can of tomatoes!"

  "Whiskey!" shrilled the Colonel and then he smiled benignly and laid afatherly hand upon his shoulder. "Never mind, my young friend, what youhave done or not done; because I'm sure it was nothing dishonorable--andnow if you will produce your bottle we'll drink to our betteracquaintance."

  "I threw it away," answered Wiley apologetically, "but it can't bevery far down the trail. I was short of water and lost, you might say,and--well, I guess I was a little wild."

  "And well you might be," replied the Colonel heartily, "if you crossedDeath Valley afoot; and worn out and hungry, to boot. I'll just takethe liberty of going after that bottle myself, before some skulkingShoo-shonnie gets hold of it."

  "Do so," smiled Wiley, "and when you've had your drink, perhaps you'llbring in my rifle and the rest."

  "Whatever you've dropped," returned the Colonel cordially, "if it's onlya cartridge from your belt! And while I am gone, just make yourself athome. You seem to be in need of rest."

  "Yes, I am," agreed Wiley, and before the Colonel was out of sight hewas fast asleep on his bed.

  It was dark when he awoke and the light of a fire played and flickeredon the walls of his cave. The wind brought to his nostrils the odor ofcooking beans and as he rose and looked out he saw the Colonel pacing upand down by the fire. His hat was off, his fine head thrown back and hewas humming to himself and smiling.

  "Come out, sir; come out!" he cried upon the moment. "I trust you haveenjoyed your day's rest. And now give me your hand, sir; I regret beyondwords my boorish conduct of this morning."

  He shook hands effusively, still continuing his apologies for havingtaken Wiley for less than a gentleman; and while they ate together itbecame apparent to Wiley that the Colonel had had his drink. If therewas anything left of the pint bottle of whiskey no mention was made ofthe fact; but even at that the liquor was well spent, for it had gainedhim a friend for life.

  "Young man," observed the Colonel, after looking at him closely, "I am afugitive in a way, myself, but I cannot believe, from the look on yourface, that your are anything else than honest. I shall respect yoursilence, as you respect mine, for your past is nothing to me; but if atany time I can assist you, just mention the fact and the deed is as goodas done. I am a man of my word and, since true friends are rare, I begof you not to forget me."

  "I'll remember that," said Wiley, and went on with his eating as theColonel paced up and down. He was a noble-looking man of the Southerntype, tall and slender, with flashing blue eyes; and the look that hegave him reminded Wiley of Virginia, only infinitely more kind andfriendly. He had been, in his day, a prince of entertainers, of the richand poor alike; and the kick of the whiskey had roused up those genialqualities which had made him the first citizen of Keno. He laughed andtold stories and cracked merry jests, yet never for a moment did heforget his incognito nor attempt to violate Wiley's. They were gentlementhere together in the heart of the desert, and as such each was safefrom intrusion. The rifle and cartridge belt, Wiley's pistol and thesack of food, were fetched and placed in his hands; and then at the endthe Colonel produced the flask of whiskey which had been slightlydiluted with water.

  "Now," he said, "we will drink a toast, my far-faring-knight of thedesert. Shall it be that first toast: 'The Ladies--God bless them!'or----"

  "No!" answered Wiley, and the Colonel silently laughed.

  "Well said, my young friend," he replied, nodding wisely. "Even at yourage you have learned something of life. No, let it be the toast thatSocrates drank, and that rare company who sat at the Banquet. To Love!they drank; but not to love of woman. To love of mankind--of Man! ToFriendship! In short, here's to you, my friend, and may you never regretthis night!"

  They drank it in silence, and as Wiley sat thinking, the Colonel becamereminiscent.

  "Ah, there was a company," he said, smiling mellowly, "such as the worldwill never see again. Agatho and Socrates, Aristophanes and Alcibiades,the picked men of ancient Athens; lying comfortably on their coucheswith the food before them and inviting their souls with wine. They beganin the evening and in the morning it was Socrates who had them all underthe table. And yet, of all men, he was the most abstemious--he coulddrink or let it alone. Alcibiades, the drunkard, gave witness that nightto the courage and hardihood of Socrates--how he had carried him and hisarmor from the battlefield of Potidaea, and outfaced the enemy atDelium; how he marched barefoot through the ice while the others, wellshod, froze; and endured famine without complaining; yet again, in thefeasts at the military table, he was the only person that appeared toenjoy them. There was a man, my friend, such as the world has neverseen, the greatest philosopher of all time; but do you know whatphilosophy he taught?"

  "No, I don't," admitted Wiley, and the Colonel sighed as he poured out asmall libation.

  "And yet," he said, "you are a man of parts, with an education, verylikely, of the best. But our schools and Universities now teach a maneverything except the meaning and purpose of life. When I was in schoolwe read our Plato and Xenophon as you now read your German and French;but what we learned, above the language itself, was the thought of thatancient time. You learn to earn money and to fight your way throughlife, but Socrates taught that friendship is above everything and thatTruth is the Ultimate Good. But, ah well; I weary you, for each agelives unto itself, and who cares for the thoughts of an old man?"

  "No! Go on!" protested Wiley, but the Colonel sighed wearily and shookhis head gloomily in thought.

  "I had a friend once," he said at last, "who had the same rugged honestyof Socrates. He was a man of few words but I truly believe that he nevertold a lie. And yet," went on the Colonel with a rueful smile, "theytell me that my friend recanted and deceived me at the last!"

  "_Who_ told you?" put in Wiley, suddenly rousing from his silenceand the Colonel glanced at him sharply.

  "Ah, yes; well said, my friend! Who told me? Why, all of them--except myfriend himself. I could not go to him with so much as a suggestion thathe had betrayed the friendship of a lifetime; and he, no doubt, feltequally reluctant to explain what had never been charged. Yet I darednot approach him, for it was better to endure doubt than to suffer thecertainty of his guilt. And so we drifted apart, and he moved away; andI have never seen my good friend since."

  Wiley sat in stunned silence, but his heart leapt up at this word ofvindication for Honest John. To be sure his father had refused him help,and rebuked him for heckling the Widow, but loyalty ran strong in theHolman blood and he looked up at the Colonel and smiled.

  "Next time you go inside," he said at last, "take a chance and ask yourfriend."

  "I'll do that," agreed the Colonel, "but it won't be for some timebecause--well, I'm hiding out."

  "Here, too," returned Wiley, "and I'm _never_ going back. But say,listen; I'll tell _you_ one now. You trusted your friend, and thebunch told you that he'd betrayed you; I trusted my girl, and she toldme to my face that she'd sold me out for fifty thousand dollars. Fiftythousand, at the most; and I lost about a million and killed a man overit, to boot. You tak
e a chance with your friends, but when you trust awoman--you don't take any chance at all."

  "Ah, in self defense?" inquired the Colonel politely. "I thought Inoticed a hole in your shirt. Yes, pretty close work--between your armand your ribs. I've had a few close calls, myself."

  "Yes, but what do you think," demanded Wiley impatiently, "of a girlthat will throw you down like that? I gave her the stock and to make itworth the money she turned around and ditched me. And then she looked mein the face and laughed!"

  "If you had studied," observed the Colonel, "the Republic of Plato youwould have been saved your initial mistake; for it was an axiom amongthe Greeks that in all things women are inferior, and never to betrusted in large affairs. The great Plato pointed out, and it has neverbeen controverted, that women are given to concealment and spite; andthat in times of danger they are timid and cowardly, and shouldtherefore have no voice in council. In fact, in the ideal State which heconceived, they were to be herded by themselves in a community dwellingand held in common by the state. There were to be no wives and nohusbands, with their quarrels and petty bickerings, but the women wereto be parceled out by certain controllers of marriage and required tobreed men for the state. That is going rather far, and I hardlysubscribe to it, but I think they should be kept in their place."

  "Well, they are cowardly, all right," agreed Wiley bitterly, "but that'sbetter than when they fight. Because then, if you oppose them, everybodyturns against you; and if you don't, they've got you whipped!"

  "Put it there!" exclaimed the Colonel, striking hands with himdramatically. "I swear, we shall get along famously. There is nothing Iadmire more than a gentle, modest woman, an ornament to her husband andher home; but when she puts on the trousers and presumes to question anddictate, what is there left for a gentleman to do? He cannot strike her,for she is his wife and he has sworn to cherish and protect her; andyet, by the gods, she can make his life more miserable than a dozenquarrelsome men. What is there to do but what I have done--to close upmy affairs and depart? If there is such a thing as love, long absencemay renew it, and the sorrow may chasten her heart; but I agree withSolomon that it is better to dwell in a corner of the house-top thanwith a scolding woman in a wide house."

  "You bet," nodded Wiley. "Gimme the desert solitude, every time. Isthere any more whiskey in that bottle?"

  "And yet--" mused the Colonel, "--well, here's to our mothers! And maywe ever be dutiful sons! After all, my friend, no man can escape hisduty; and if duty should call us to endure a certain martyrdom we havethe example of Socrates to sustain us. If report is true he had ascolding wife--the name of Xanthippe has become a proverb--and yet whatmore noble than Socrates' rebuke to his son when he behaved undutifullytowards his mother? Where else in all literature will you find a moreexalted statement of the duty we all owe our parents than in Socrates'dialogue with Lamprocles, his son, as recorded in the Memorabilia ofXenophon? And if, living with Xanthippe and listening to her railings,he could yet attain to such heights of philosophy is it not possiblethat men like you and me might come, through his philosophy, to endureit? It is that which I am pondering while I am alone here in the desert;but my spirit is weak and that accursed camp robber made off with myvolume of Plato."

  "Well, personally," stated Wiley, his mind on the Widow, "I think Iagree more with Plato. Let 'em keep in their place and not crush intobusiness with their talk and their double-barreled shotguns."

  "I beg your pardon, sir," said the Colonel, drawing himself up gravely,"but did you happen to come through Keno?"

  "Never mind;" grumbled Wiley, "you might be the Sheriff. Tell me moreabout this married man, Socrates."