CHAPTER V--ONLY THE BRAVE
Reaching the box which, according to his count of doors, should containher, Peter Pape tried the door; opened it; stepped into and across thesmall cloak-room; looked through the brocaded hangings of the outer box.There she sat, just behind the bobbed youngster, an example of howdifferent one black-haired girl can look from another. Her eyes, of theblue of tropic seas--calm, deep, mysterious--opened to his in surprise.He felt the other eyes in the box upon him, five pairs in all. But helooked only into hers--into the eyes that had summoned him.
Quick at detail, he appreciated at a glance more than the general effectof her. Her gown was of silver lace, a moonlight shimmer that lent apaling sheen to her shoulders and arms. She wore no ornaments, except acluster of purplish forget-me-nots. As if one could forget anythingabout her! Forget those long, strong lines of her, not too thin nor yettoo sturdy--those untinted cheeks of an oval blending gently into a chinthat was neither hard nor weak--those parted, definitely dented lips,their healthful red indubitable--that black, soft, femininely long hair,simply parted and done in a knot on her neck?
More than at the greater distance, she looked the sort he liked. Did shelike the looks of him? He could not voice the question direct, as in hiscalculations, with eight ears beside her own to hear. But heconcentrated on the silent demand that she try to do so as he crossed toher with hand outstretched.
"I am so glad," said he, "to see you again."
Her hand relaxed in his clasp. She rose to her feet; drew up to the fullheight of her well-poised slenderness. Her expression was neitherwelcoming nor forbidding; rather was the puzzled, half-ashamed andwholly honest look of a child who can't remember.
"Didn't you ask me to come?"
He bent to her with the low-spoken question; met her eyes as seriouslyas through the lenses a moment since; waited breathlessly for the testof just how fearless and frank was she. With hope he saw a faint flushspread forward from her ears and tinge delightfully her pallor. Alreadyhe had felt the agitation of it in her finger-tips. Relief came with herfirst words.
"Yes, I know I did," she said.
She knew. Yes, she _knew_. And she had the courage to say so. She notonly looked--she _was_ the sort he liked.
Whether from suggestion of his hand or her own volition, she steppedwith him to the back of the box. He did not give her time to deny him,even to himself alone. With inspired assurance he urged:
"I have crossed a continent to meet you. Don't let your friends see thatyou failed to recognize me at first. It takes only a moment to know me.Give me that moment."
"Am I not giving it?" She looked still puzzled, still flushed, stillbrave. But she withdrew her hand and with it something of herconfidence.
Would she deny him, after all, once she understood? She mustn't beallowed to.
"Give me the moment toward which I've lived my life," he said. "Youwon't regret it. Look at me. Recognize me. Trust me."
During the grave glance which she slanted slightly upward to hissix-feet-flat, she obeyed; studied him; seemed to reach some decisionregarding him, just what he had to surmise.
"The surprise of meeting you--here--at the opera----" she beganhesitantly. "Seeing so many people, I think, confuses me. Somehow,personalities and places get all scrambled in my memory. Do forgiveme--but you are from----"
"Montana, of course," he prompted her.
"Oh!" She considered. Then: "I've been to the Yellowstone. It wasthere--that we met? I begin--to remember that----"
"That I'm a personal friend of Horace Albright, the superintendent," hesupplied, quick to seize the opportunity she had made to speak a true,good word for himself. "Every one of the Spread-Eagle Ranger force, fromJim McBride down, calls me by my first name, so you see that I am notusk-hunter. You can't have forgotten the snap of the air on thoseearly-morning Y-stone rides or the colors of the border peaks in theafternoon sun or----"
"Or the spray of Old Faithful, the painted colors of the canon, thewhole life of the wild. Never. Never," she contributed. "I wasfascinated with the breadth and freedom of your West. Out there I feltlike Alice in Wonderland, with everything possible."
His eyes reproached her. "Everything is possible everywhere, even inyour narrow, circumscribed East. I am glad that you remember theworth-while things. Perhaps, if you try----"
"Jane dar-rling, do you want to sit brazenly in front or modestly inback for the second act? That first was enough to put the Mona Lisa outof countenance. But I've heard that a little child saves the second."
The interruption came from the bobbed-haired girl, who, from herrepeated glances their way, evidently thought their aside somewhatprotracted.
So "Jane" was the favorite, old-fashioned name she glorified! Pape wasfurther thrilled by the touch of her hand on his arm.
"Do forgive me and help me out," she said low and hurriedly. "Somehypnotist must have given me mental suggestion that I was to forgetnames. I am constantly embarrassed by lapses like this. Quick--I'll haveto introduce you."
"Peter Pape." Gladly he supplied the lack.
With considerable poise she announced him as "a friend from theYellowstone," who had happened in unexpectedly and been revivingmemories of that most delightful summer she had spent in the West. Ifshe accented ever so slightly the "revived memories" or flashed him aconfused look with the pronouncement of his name, none but he noticed.And he did not care. Whether deceived by his high-handed play or playinga higher hand herself, she hadn't thrown him out. Now shewouldn't--couldn't. He was her "friend" from the Yellowstone--nearenough home, at that, since Hellroaring Valley was right next door. Shewas committed to his commitment. His theory was proving beyond anythinghe could have hoped, had he wasted time on hope after evolving it.
In turn she named Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Allen, a middle-aged couple whosupplied ample dignity and chaperonage for the younger element of thebox party; Mr. Mills Harford, a genial, sophisticated and well-builtyoung man, who would have been called handsome by one with a taste forauburn hair, brown eyes and close-cropped mustaches; Miss Sturgis, herlittle cousin--she of the bobbed hair, filet of pearls and affectionateaddress.
Even in her grown-up, down-cut evening gown of Nile-green, the girldidn't look more than fifteen--couldn't have exceeded nineteen withoutviolating all laws of appearances. Despite her excessive use ofmake-up--blued-over eyelids, plucked brows, darkened lashes,thick-pasted lips and high-colored cheeks--Cousin "Irene" was quitebeautiful. And her manner proved as assertively brilliant as her looks.
"Mr. ---- Pape?" she demanded thinkingly. "Have I met you before orheard of you----"
His hand on his heart, he bowed toward her. "Why-Not Pape."
She stared at him much as she had at the sign.
"You don't claim to be---- Don't tell me that you are---- Then you're_not_ a breakfast-food?"
"Nothing so enlivening. Not even anti-fat," he apologized inbroad-smiling return.
"Oh--_oh_!" she gasped. "You _couldn't_ have overheard what I said inthe car coming down?"
"From the curb, Miss Sturgis."
"And you recognized me here in the box and that's why--Dar-rling--" theendearment was drawled with a brief glance toward her relative--"isn'tthat just too _utterly_ romantic?"
"I hope, Irene, not _too_ utterly."
Jane's quiet reply started a smile wreathing around the little circle,evidently of amusement over the child-vamp's personal assumption of allhonors.
Samuel Allen interposed in a tone of butter-melting benignity: "Anyfriend of Miss Lauderdale is more than welcome to our city so far as Iam concerned."
"Rawther! And welcome--thrice welcome to our midst," the madcap againinterpolated, seizing one of his large, brown hands in both her white,bejeweled, small ones.
"Dee-lighted!" Pape breathed, returning the extra shake.
Indeed, he felt delighted. She was _Miss_ Jane Lauderdale, the reserved,long-haired relative of this short-haired enthusiast. And she wore noengagement ring--not any ring on any finger. He cou
ld only hope that shehad no "understanding" with the good-looking chap ranged beside her. Ifso, she'd have to be made to mis-understand. She was more flustered overhis acceptance of the unconscious invitation of that long, strange,magnified look than she had at first appeared. That showed in the tightclutch of her fingers on her feather fan. And she was taller than he hadcalculated--just enough shorter than he for ideal dancing. One thingabout her he needed to decide, but couldn't. Did she or did she not knowthat she didn't know him?
But he must pay attention. Irene, continuing to baby-vamp him, waved himinto the chair beside that into which she had sunk. Although ofnecessity she had dropped his hand she released neither his interest norhis eyes.
"You must be just a terribly important person to be flashed all overBroadway in that rosy wreath. I don't blame your friends, though, forfeeling a bit extravagant over you. We were talking about the signbefore you came in--were guessing what kingdom you belong to, animal,vegetable or mineral. Millsy Harford here held out that you were morelikely some manufactured product than anti-fat. Isn't it all quite toofunny for anything?"
"My folks used to say, from the rate of speed at which I grew up--" Papeapplied to his ready store of persiflage--"that I was more like avegetable than a boy. _I_ always thought I was animal, judging by myappetite, you know. But my life's been kind of lived with minerals.Maybe I'm all three."
"How interesting." Mrs. Allen, a lady faded to medium in coloring, ageand manner, turned from an over-rail inspection of some social notableamong the horseshoe's elect to survey him through her lorgnette. "Justwhy, if I am not too personal, are you called 'Why-Not?'"
"My nickname about the headwaters of our greatest river, madam."
From her look of vague perplexity Pape turned his glance around thegroup until it halted for a study of Jane Lauderdale's face--again Irishpale, tropic-eyed, illegible. He chose his further words with care.
"Guess I was the first to ask myself that question after the boys hungthe sobri. on me and nailed it there," he said, addressing himself tonone in particular. "I made the interesting discovery that there wasn'tany answer, although there are limitless answers to almost everyseemingly unanswerable question. You see, when I find myself up againstthe impossible, I just ask myself why not and buck it. I've found theimpossible a boogey-boo."
"You call yourself, then, a possible person?"
He was not to be discountenanced by Jane's quiet insertion.
"Everything worth while that I've got in the past I owe to that belief,"he maintained. "It happens that I want some few extras in my nearfuture. That's how I'll get 'em, from realizing thatnothing--_absolutely nothing_--is impossible."
Considerable of a speech this was for him. Yet he could see that he hadmade something of an impression by its delivery. One moment he marveledat his own assurance; the next wanted to know any good and substantialreason why he shouldn't feel assured. He had made himself, to be sure.But probably he had done the job better than any one else could havedone it for him. At least he had been thorough. And his efforts had paidin cash, if that counted.
A stir in the house--rather, a settling into silence--presaged theparting of the curtains on Act II. Mills Harford who, as had developed,was the host of the evening, began to rearrange the chairs to the betteradvantage of the fair of his party. The interloper felt the obligationat least of offering to depart. Irene it was who saved him. With a poutof the most piquantly bowed pair of lips upon which female ever had usedunnecessary stick, she dared him to wish to watch the second act withher as much as she wished him to.
Pape could not keep down the thrill she gave him--she and the situation.To think that he, so lately the wearer of an Indian sign, should bebegged to stay in such a circle! Only for a moment did he affectreluctance. During it, he glanced across at the box that was his byright of rental, with its content of brightly attired "true-lovers"blooming above the rail; smiled into the challenge of the precociouschild's black eyes; sank into the chair just behind her.
"Your friends over there look better able to do without you than Ifeel," Irene ventured, with an over-shoulder sigh. "I don't know who inthe world they are, but----"
"No more do I, Miss Sturgis."
"You don't? You mean----"
"Righto. Just met up with 'em in the lobby. They hadn't any seats and Ihad more than I could use without exerting myself."
"How nice! Then they have only half as much right to you as I have. Yousee, I, as well as Miss Lauderdale, have met you before."
"Down Broadway, you mean, and although you didn't know it?"
She nodded back at him tenderly. "And although separated bycircumstances--I in the car and you on the curb. From my cousin'sdescriptions, I adore rangers. Don't I, dar-rling?"
"No one could doubt that, eh, Jane?" Harford made answer for MissLauderdale, whom he had relieved of her fan with as much solicitude asthough each ostrich feather weighed a pound.
"I do really. _Why not_?" Low and luringly Irene laughed. "You must lookawfully picturesque in your uniform of forest green, your cavalry hatand laced boots."
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm a cowman, not a ranger," Pape thoughtadvisable to state in a tone calculated to reach the ears of herresponsible for his presence in their midst. "But most of the parkservice members are my friends. I live on the edge of the playground andknow them right well."
The young girl refused to have her enthusiasm quashed. "Well, that'sjust as good. You have their spirit without being tied to the stake ofroutine, as it were. I detest routine, don't you? Or _do_ you? On secondthought, you're much better off. Don't _you_ think he is, dar-rling?"
In the dimming of the auditorium lights, she leaned closer to him;seemed to transfer the fulsomely drawled term of endearment from herrelative to him; added in a cross between murmur and whisper:
"Isn't dar-rling a difficult word--hard to say seriously? Fancy caringthat much for any one--I mean any one of one's own sex. Of course, Ihope really to love a man that much some day. That is, I do unless I goin for a career. Careers _do_ keep one from getting fat, though. As I amconstantly telling my mother----"
"S-sh!"
Pape was relieved by Mrs. Allen's silencing sibilant.
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