CHAPTER XXV
CLEAVING ONLY UNTO HER.
She made no great outcry. I saw her bend her face forward into herhands.
"What shall we do?" she asked at length.
"I do not know," said I to her soberly; "but since there is water hereand a little shelter, it is my belief that we ought to stop here for thenight."
She looked out across the gray monotony that surrounded us, toward thehorizon now grown implacable and ominous. Her eyes were wide, andevidently she was pondering matters in her mind. At last she turned tome and held out her hands for me to assist her in dismounting.
"John Cowles, _of Virginia_," she said, "I am sorry we are lost."
I could make no answer, save to vow silently that if I lived she must bereturned safely to her home, unhurt body and soul. I dared not ponder onconventions in a case so desperate as I knew ours yet might be. SilentlyI unsaddled the horse and hobbled it securely as I might with the bridlerein. Then I spread the saddle blanket for her to sit upon, and hurriedabout for Plains fuel. Water we drank from my hat, and were somewhatrefreshed. Now we had food and water. We needed fire. But this, when Icame to fumble in my pockets, seemed at first impossible, for I foundnot a match.
"I was afraid of that," she said, catching the meaning of my look. "Whatshall we do? We shall starve!"
"Not in the least," said I, stoutly. "We are good Indians enough to makea fire, I hope."
In my sheath was a heavy hunting knife; and now, searching about us onthe side of the coulee bank, I found several flints, hard and white.Then I tore out a bit of my coat lining and moistened it a trifle, andsaturated it with powder from my flask, rubbed in until it all was dry.This niter-soaked fabric I thought might serve as tinder for the spark.So then I struck flint and steel, and got the strange spark, hidden inthe cold stone ages and ages there on the Plains; and presently thespark was a little flame, and then a good fire, and so we were morecomfortable.
We roasted meat now, flat on the coals, the best we might, and so weate, with no salt to aid us. The girl became a trifle more cheerful,though still distant and quiet. If I rose to leave the fire for aninstant, I saw her eyes following me all the time. I knew her fears,though she did not complain.
Man is the most needful of all the animals, albeit the most resourceful.We needed shelter, and we had none. Night came on. The great graywolves, haunters of the buffalo herds, roared their wild salute to us,savage enough to strike terror to any woman's soul. The girl edged closeto me as the dark came down. We spoke but little. Our dangers had notyet made us other than conventional.
Now, worst of all, the dark bank of cloud arose and blotted out all themap of the stars. The sun scarce had sunk before a cold breath, silent,with no motion in its coming, swept across or settled down upon thePlains. The little grasses no longer stirred in the wind. Thetemperature mysteriously fell more and more, until it was cold, verycold. And those pale, heatless flames, icy as serpent tongues playedalong the darkening heavens, and mocked at us who craved warmth andshelter. I felt my own body shiver. She looked at me startled.
"You are cold," said she.
"No," I answered, "only angry because I am so weak." We sat silent forvery long intervals. At length she raised her hand and pointed.
Even as dusk sank upon us, all the lower sky went black. An advancingroar came upon our ears. And then a blinding wave of rain drove acrossthe surface of the earth, wiping out the day, beating down withremorseless strength and volume as though it would smother and drown ustwain in its deluge--us, the last two human creatures of the world!
It caught us, that wave of damp and darkness, and rolled over us andcrushed us down as we cowered. I caught up the blanket from the groundand pulled it around the girl's shoulders. I drew her tight to me as Ilay with my own back to the storm, and pulled the saddle over her head,with this and my own body keeping out the tempest from her as much as Icould. There was no other fence for her, and but for this she mightperhaps have died; I do not know. I felt her strain at my arms first,then settle back and sink her head under the saddle flap and cower closelike some little schoolfellow, all the curves of her body cravingshelter, comfort, warmth. She shivered terribly. I heard her gasp andsob. Ah, how I pitied her that hour!
COLONEL MERIWEATHER EXPRESSES HIS THANKS FOR THE RESCUEOF HIS DAUGHTER]
ORME TESTIFIES THAT HE HEARD JOHN AND THE COLONELQUARRELING]
Our fire was gone at the first sweep of the storm, which ragedthunderously by, with heavy feet, over the echoing floor of the world.There came other fires, such blazes and explosions of pale balls ofelectricity as I had never dreamed might be, with these detonations ofpent-up elemental wrath such as I never conceived might have existenceunder any sky. Night, death, storm, the strength of the elements, allthe primeval factors of the world and life were upon us, testing us,seeking to destroy us, beating upon us, freezing, choking, blinding us,leaving us scarce animate.
Yet not destroying us. Still, somewhere under the huddle and draggle ofit all burned on the human soul. The steel in my belt was cold, but ithad held its fire. The ice in the flints about us held fire also in itsdepths. Fire was in our bodies, the fire of life--indomitable,yearning--in our two bodies. So that which made the storm test us andtry us and seek to slay us, must perhaps have smiled grimly as it howledon and at length disappeared, baffled by the final success of theimmutable and imperishable scheme. The fire in our two bodies still wasthere.
As the rain lessened, and the cold increased, I knew that rigors wouldsoon come upon us. "We must walk," I said. "You shiver, you freeze."
"You tremble," she said. "You are cold. You are very cold."
"Walk, or we die," I gasped; and so I led her at last lower down theside of the ravine, where the wind was not so strong.
"We must run," I said, "or we shall die." I staggered as I ran. With allmy soul I challenged my weakness, summoning to my aid that reserve ofstrength I had always known each hour in my life. Strangely I felt--howI cannot explain--that she must be saved, that she was I. Strangephrases ran through my brain. I remembered only one, "Cleaving onlyunto her"; and this, in my weakened frame of body and mind, I could notseparate from my stern prayer to my own strength, once so ready, now sostrangely departed from me.
We ran as we might, back and forward on the slippery mud, scrambled upand down, panting, until at length our hearts began to beat morequickly, and the love of life came back strongly, and the unknown,mysterious fire deep down somewhere, inscrutable, elemental, began toflicker up once more, and we were saved--saved, we two savages, we twoprimitive human beings, the only ones left alive after the deluge whichhad flooded all the earth--left alive to begin the world all over again.
The Way of a Man Page 25