The Sagebrusher: A Story of the West

by Emerson Hough

  CHAPTER XXXI

  THE BLIND SEE

  To those waiting for the threatened attack upon the power dam, the meretorment of continued inaction became intolerable, but as to materialdanger, nothing definite came. The keen-eyed young soldiers on theirbeat night after night, day after day, caught no sight or sound of anylurking enemy, and began to feel resentment at the arduous hours askedof them. Once in a while one trooper would say to another that he sawno sense in people getting scared at nothing out in No Man's Land. Thelaborers of the camp were more or less incurious. They did theirallotted hours of labor each day, passed at night to the bunk house,and fell into a snake-like torpor. Life seemed quiet and innocuous.Liquor was prohibited. The regime was military. Soon after the buglehad sounded Retreat each evening the raw little settlement becamesilent, save for the unending requiem to hope which the great waterschafing through the turbines continually moaned. It was apparently aplace of peace.

  Doctor Barnes felt reasonably sure that the attack, if any, would comethrough the valley at the lower dam, for that would be the onlypractical entry point of the marauders marooned somewhere back in thehills. The trail between these two dams lay almost wholly above therocky river bed. It would have been difficult if not impossible topatrol the bed of the river itself, for close to the water's edge therewere places where no foothold could have been obtained even now, low asthe water was. Therefore it seemed most needful to watch the mainwagon trail along the canyon shelf.

  It was sun-fall of the third day after Doctor Barnes had left Mary Gagefor her long wait in the dark. The men had finished their work aboutthe great dam, and were on their way to their quarters. Sim Gage,scout, beginning his night's work and having ended his own attempt atsleep during the daytime, was passing, hatted and belted, rifle inhand, to the barracks, where he was to speak with the lieutenant incharge. The two men of the color guard stood at the foot of the greatstaff, dressed out of a tall mountain spruce, at whose top flutteredthe flag of this republic. The shrilling of the bugle's beautifulsalute to the flag was ringing far and near along the canyon walls.The flag began to drop, slowly, into the arms of the waiting man whohad given oath of his life to protect it always, and to keep it stillfull high advanced. It must never touch the earth at all, but remain acreature of the air--that is the tradition of our Army and all theArmy's proud color guards.

  Sim Gage stopped now, as every man in that encampment, soldier orlaborer, had been trained punctiliously to do, at the evening gun. Hestood at attention, like these others; for Sim Gage was a soldier, orthought he was. His eyes were fixed on this strange thing, thiscreature called the Flag. A strange, fierce jealousy arose in hisheart for it, a savage love, as though it were a thing that belonged tohim. His chest heaved now in the feeling that he was identified withthis guard, waiting for the colors to come to rest and shelter afterthe day of duty. It stirred him in a way which he did not understand.A simple, unintelligent man, of no great shrewdness, though free of anymaudlin sentiment, he stood fast in the mid-street and saluted theflag, not because he was obliged to do so, but because he passionatelycraved to do so.

  He turned to meet Annie Squires, who was hurrying away from her ownquarters. She held in her hand a letter which she waved at him as sheapproach.

  "Look-it here!" she exclaimed. "Look what I found. Where's the Doc?I want to see him right away."

  "He's like enough down at the lower dam by now," said Sim.

  "Well, he'd ought to see this."

  "What is it?" asked Sim, looking at it questioningly. "Who's it to?"

  "Who's it to?" said Annie Squires. "Why, it's to Charlie Dorenwald,that's who it's to!"

  "What? That feller that was up there--one you said you knew before youcome out here?"

  "Yes. But how does this Waldhorn chump in there know anything aboutCharlie Dorenwald? That's what I want to know."

  "What chump? Mr. Waldhorn?"

  "I found this in his desk. Well, I wasn't rummaging in his desk, but Ihad to slick things up, and saw it. I only run on it by accident."

  "What's in it?" said Sim Gage.

  "Well, now," said Annie, naively, "I only just steamed it a little. Itrolled open easy with a pen-holder."

  "Huh. What you find in it?"

  "Why, nothing but nonsense, that's what I found. Listen here. 'Pricewheat next year two-nineteen sharp signal general satisfaction.' Now,what does that mean? That's foolishness. That man's a nut! I bet hegets alone up in here and smokes hop, that's what he does, all byhimself. No one but a dope fiend would pull stuff like that.

  "But still," she added, a finger at chin, "what bothers me is, how doesCharlie know Waldhorn? Unless----"

  "Unless what?" asked Sim Gage, his brows suddenly contracting.

  "Unless they're both in on this deal! What do you suppose the Docthinks? What makes him keep this Waldhorn close as he does? Is he aprisoner?"

  "No, I reckon not. We all just got orders to shoot him if he tries toget away. I think Doc's holding him until he gets word in fromoutside. Things seems to me to move mighty slow."

  "Well, this letter's addressed to Charlie Dorenwald, and anythingthat's got Charlie Dorenwald's name on it is crooked, and you cangamble on that. Can't you find the Doc?"

  As it happened, Doctor Barnes had not yet left his quarters for hisnightly trip to the lower canyon. He had been trying to sleep. Herose now, full-clad and all awake, when he caught sight of Sim Gage'sface at his door.

  "What's up?" he said.

  "This here," said Sim, "is a letter that Annie brung me out of thehouse where them two is living. She says she found it in there. Wecan't make nothing out of it. Seems like this Waldhorn here hadsomething to say to Charlie Dorenwald. Annie says it's the sameDorenwald that was up above, at the ranch, the one Wid didn't get.Well, how come him and Waldhorn to know each other, that's what I wantto know. So does Annie."

  "What I want to know, too!" said Doctor Barnes, reaching out his hand.

  "Annie says it's plumb nutty, the stuff in it," commented Sim. Theother looked at him quizzically.

  "She read it then?"

  He read it now, himself, and stood stiff and straight at reading."This is a cypher--code stuff! They know what it means, and we don't.'Two-nineteen sharp'--I wonder what that means! This is the nineteenthday of the month, isn't it? 'Signal general satisfaction'--Lord! I'dgive anything for a good night's sleep. Gage, go on over and tell allthe men to keep full dressed, and with equipment handy all night long.I don't have any clear guess what this is all about, but we can't takeany chances."

  "Wid, he thinks them fellers ain't coming down here a-tall," said Simconfidentially.

  "He doesn't know anything more about it than I do or you do," saidDoctor Barnes somewhat testily. "You go and tell Annie to shut thatdesk up, and see that she keeps it shut. I'm coming over to seal itup."

  Annie Squires meantime had hastened back to discuss these matters withher patient in the hospital room. It only added more to the nervousstrain that already tormented Mary Gage.

  "Annie, I'm scared!" she whispered. "Oh! if I could only take care ofmyself. Tell me, Annie--I'll get well, won't I?"

  "Sure thing, Kid--it's a cinch."

  "Where is he?" Mary demanded after some hesitation.

  "Who? Him?" Annie employed her usual fashion of indicating theidentity of Sim Gage.

  "No, I mean Doctor Barnes."

  "He'll be going down below pretty soon. He don't know anything morethan I do about what that fool stuff in the letter means."

  "But say," she added after a time, "I been kind of looking around indesks and places, you know--I have to red things up--and I run acrossanother thing, some more writing."

  "You mustn't do these things, Annie! It may be private."

  "Oh, no, it ain't. It's only some writing copied from a magazine, likeenough. It was on one of the desks in this house--just in there."

  "Copied?--What is it?"

  "I don't kn
ow. Poetry stuff--sounds mushy. I didn't know men would dothings like copying out poetry from magazines. Never heard of Mr.Symonds--did you?"

  "How can I tell, Annie?"

  "I'll read it for you if you'll let me. It's dark, in here--I'll justgo outside the door and read it through the crack at you, so's thelight won't hurt you anyways."

  And so, faintly, as from a detached intelligence, there came into MaryGage's darkened room, her darkened life, some words well-written,ill-read, which it seemed to her she might have dreamed:

  "As a perfume doth remain In the folds where it hath lain, So the thought of you, remaining Deeply folded in my brain, Will not leave me; all things leave me: You remain.

  "Other thoughts may come and go, Other moments I may know That shall waft me, in their going, As a breath blown to and fro. Fragrant memories; fragrant memories Come and go.

  "Only thoughts of you remain In my heart where they have lain, Perfumed thoughts of you, remaining, A hid sweetness, in my brain. Others leave me; all things leave me: You remain."

  "Read them over again!" said Mary Gage, sitting upon her couch. "Readthem again, Annie! I want to learn it all by heart."

  And Annie, patient as ever, read the words over to her. The keensenses of Mary Gage recorded them.

  "I can say them now!" said she, as much to herself as to her friend.And she did say them, over and over again.

  "Annie," she cried, as she sat up suddenly. "I can't stand it anymore! I can see! I can see!"

  She was tearing at the bandages about her head when Annie entered andput down her hands, terrified at this disobedience of orders.

  "Annie, I _know_ I can see! It was light--at the door there! I cansee. I can _see_!" She began to weep, trembling.

  "Hush!" said Annie, frightened. "It ain't possible! It can't be true!_What_ did you see?"

  "Nothing!" said Mary Gage, half sobbing. "Just the light. Don't tellhim. Put back the bandage. But, oh, Annie, Annie, I can _see_!"

  "You're talking foolish, Sis," said Annie, pinning the bandages all thetighter about the piled brown hair of Mary Gage's head.

  "But say now," she added after that was done, "if I was a girl and afellow felt that way about me--couldn't remember nobody but me thatway--why, me for him! Mushy--but times comes when a girl falls strongfor the mushy, huh?

  "Now you lay down again and cover up your eyes and rest, or you'llnever be seeing things again, sure enough. I ain't going to read nomore of that strong-arm writing at all."

  Mary Gage heard the door close, heard the footsteps of her friendpassing down the little hall. She was alone again. Her heart wasthrobbing high.

  What she first had seen was the soul of a man; a man's confession; hisrecessional as well. Now she knew that he was indeed going away fromher life forever. Which had been more cruel, blindness or vision?