VII
And so it came about that one calm evening towards the end of June,William Spike and I went into camp under the southerly shelter of thatvast granite wall called the Hudson Mountains, there to await thepromised "further instructions."
It had been a tiresome trip by steamer to Anticosti, from there byschooner to Widgeon Bay, then down the coast and up the Cape ClearRiver to Port Porpoise. There we bought three pack-mules and starteddue north on the Great Fur Trail. The second day out we passed FortBoise, the last outpost of civilization, and on the sixth day we weretravelling eastward under the granite mountain parapets.
On the evening of the sixth day out from Fort Boise we went into campfor the last time before entering the unknown land.
I could see it already through my field-glasses, and while William wasbuilding the fire I climbed up among the rocks above and sat down,glasses levelled, to study the prospect.
There was nothing either extraordinary or forbidding in the landscapewhich stretched out beyond; to the right the solid palisade of granitecut off the view; to the left the palisade continued, an endlessbarrier of sheer cliffs crowned with pine and hemlock. But theinteresting section of the landscape lay almost directly in front ofme--a rent in the mountain-wall through which appeared to run a level,arid plain, miles wide, and as smooth and even as a highroad.
There could be no doubt concerning the significance of that rent inthe solid mountain-wall; and, moreover, it was exactly as WilliamSpike had described it. However, I called to him and he came up fromthe smoky camp-fire, axe on shoulder.
"Yep," he said, squatting beside me; "the Graham Glacier used tomeander through that there hole, but somethin' went wrong with theearth's in'ards an' there was a bust-up."
"And you saw it, William?" I said, with a sigh of envy.
"Hey? Seen it? Sure I seen it! I was to Spoutin' Springs, twenty milewest, with a bale o' blue fox an' otter pelt. Fust I knew them geysersbegun for to groan egregious like, an' I seen the caribou gallopin'hell-bent south. 'This climate,' sez I, 'is too bracin' for me,' so Istruck a back trail an' landed onto a hill. Then them geysers blowedup, one arter the next, an' I heard somethin' kinder cave in betweenhere an' China. I disremember things what happened. Somethin' throwedme down, but I couldn't stay there, for the blamed ground was runnin'like a river--all wavy-like, an' the sky hit me on the back o' mehead."
"And then?" I urged, in that new excitement which every repetition ofthe story revived. I had heard it all twenty times since we left NewYork, but mere repetition could not apparently satisfy me.
"Then," continued William, "the whole world kinder went off like afire-cracker, an' I come too, an' ran like--"
"I know," said I, cutting him short, for I had become wearied of theinvariable profanity which lent a lurid ending to his narrative.
"After that," I continued, "you went through the rent in themountains?"
"Sure."
"And you saw a dingue and a creature that resembled a mammoth?"
"Sure," he repeated, sulkily.
"And you saw something else?" I always asked this question; itfascinated me to see the sullen fright flicker in William's eyes, andthe mechanical backward glance, as though what he had seen might stillbe behind him.
He had never answered this third question but once, and that time hefairly snarled in my face as he growled: "I seen what no Christianoughter see."
So when I repeated: "And you saw something else, William?" he gave mea wicked, frightened leer, and shuffled off to feed the mules.Flattery, entreaties, threats left him unmoved; he never told me whatthe third thing was that he had seen behind the Hudson Mountains.
William had retired to mix up with his mules; I resumed my binocularsand my silent inspection of the great, smooth path left by the GrahamGlacier when something or other exploded that vast mass of ice intovapor.
The arid plain wound out from the unknown country like a river, and Ithought then, and think now, that when the glacier was blown intovapor the vapor descended in the most terrific rain the world has everseen, and poured through the newly blasted mountain-gateway, sweepingthe earth to bed-rock. To corroborate this theory, miles to thesouthward I could see the debris winding out across the land towardsWellman Bay, but as the terminal moraine of the vanished glacierformerly ended there I could not be certain that my theory wascorrect. Owing to the formation of the mountains I could not see morethan half a mile into the unknown country. What I could see appearedto be nothing but the continuation of the glacier's path, scored outby the cloud-burst, and swept as smooth as a floor.
Sitting there, my heart beating heavily with excitement, I lookedthrough the evening glow at the endless, pine-crowned mountain-wallwith its giant's gateway pierced for me! And I thought of all theexplorers and the unknown heroes--trappers, Indians, humblenaturalists, perhaps--who had attempted to scale that sheer barricadeand had died there or failed, beaten back from those eternal cliffs.Eternal? No! For the Eternal Himself had struck the rock, and it hadsprung asunder, thundering obedience.
In the still evening air the smoke from the fire below mounted in astraight, slender pillar, like the smoke from those ancient altarsbuilded before the first blood had been shed on earth.
The evening wind stirred the pines; a tiny spring brook made thinharmony among the rocks; a murmur came from the quiet camp. It wasWilliam adjuring his mules. In the deepening twilight I descended thehillock, stepping cautiously among the rocks.
Then, suddenly, as I stood outside the reddening ring of firelight,far in the depths of the unknown country, far behind themountain-wall, a sound grew on the quiet air. William heard it andturned his face to the mountains. The sound faded to a vibration whichwas felt, not heard. Then once more I began to divine a vibration inthe air, gathering in distant volume until it became a sound, lastingthe space of a spoken word, fading to vibration, then silence.
Was it a cry?
I looked at William inquiringly. He had quietly fainted away.
I got him to the little brook and poked his head into the icy water,and after a while he sat up pluckily.
To an indignant question he replied: "Naw, I ain't a-cussin' you.Lemme be or I'll have fits."
"Was it that sound that scared you?" I asked.
"Ya-as," he replied with a dauntless shiver.
"Was it the voice of the mammoth?" I persisted, excitedly. "Speak,William, or I'll drag you about and kick you!"
He replied that it was neither a mammoth nor a dingue, and added astrong request for privacy, which I was obliged to grant, as I couldnot torture another word out of him.
I slept little that night; the exciting proximity of the unknown landwas too much for me. But although I lay awake for hours, I heardnothing except the tinkle of water among the rocks and the plovercalling from some hidden marsh. At daybreak I shot a ptarmigan whichhad walked into camp, and the shot set the echoes yelling among themountains.
William, sullen and heavy-eyed, dressed the bird, and we broiled itfor breakfast.
Neither he nor I alluded to the sound we had heard the night before;he boiled water and cleaned up the mess-kit, and I pottered aboutamong the rocks for another ptarmigan. Wearying of this, presently, Ireturned to the mules and William, and sat down for a smoke.
"It strikes me," I said, "that our instructions to 'await furtherorders' are idiotic. How are we to receive 'further orders' here?"
William did not know.
"You don't suppose," said I, in sudden disgust, "that Miss Smawlbelieves there is a summer hotel and daily mail service in the HudsonMountains?"
William thought perhaps she did suppose something of the sort.
It irritated me beyond measure to find myself at last on the veryborder of the unknown country, and yet checked, held back, by theirresponsible orders of a maiden lady named Smawl. However, my salarydepended upon the whim of that maiden lady, and although I fussed andfumed and glared at the mountains through my glasses, I realized thatI could not stir without the permission of M
iss Smawl. At times thisgrotesque situation became almost unbearable, and I often went away bymyself and indulged in fantasies, firing my gun off and pretending Ihad hit Miss Smawl by mistake. At such moments I would imagine I wasfree at last to plunge into the strange country, and I would squat ona rock and dream of bagging my first mammoth.
The time passed heavily; the tension increased with each new day. Ishot ptarmigan and kept our table supplied with brook-trout. Williamchopped wood, conversed with his mules, and cooked very badly.
"See here," I said, one morning; "we have been in camp a week to-day,and I can't stand your cooking another minute!"
William, who was washing a saucepan, looked up and begged mesarcastically to accept the _cordon bleu_. But I know only how to cookeggs, and there were no eggs within some hundred miles.
To get the flavor of the breakfast out of my mouth I walked up to myfavorite hillock and sat down for a smoke. The next moment, however, Iwas on my feet, cheering excitedly and shouting for William.
"Here come 'further instructions' at last!" I cried, pointing to thesouthward, where two dots on the grassy plain were imperceptiblymoving in our direction.
"People on mules," said William, without enthusiasm.
"They must be messengers for us!" I cried, in chaste joy. "Threecheers for the northward trail, William, and the mischief takeMiss--Well, never mind now," I added.
"On them approachin' mules," observed William, "there is wimmen."
I stared at him for a second, then attempted to strike him. He dodgedwearily and repeated his incredible remark: "Ya-as, thereis--wimmen--two female ladies onto them there mules."
"Bring me my glasses!" I said, hoarsely; "bring me those glasses,William, because I shall destroy you if you don't!"
Somewhat awed by my calm fury, he hastened back to camp and returnedwith the binoculars. It was a breathless moment. I adjusted the lenseswith a steady hand and raised them.
Now, of all unexpected sights my fate may reserve for me in thefuture, I trust--nay, I know--that none can ever prove as unwelcome asthe sight I perceived through my binoculars. For upon the backs ofthose distant mules were two women, and the first one was Miss Smawl!
Upon her head she wore a helmet, from which fluttered a green veil.Otherwise she was clothed in tweeds; and at moments she beat upon hermule with a thick umbrella.
Surfeited with the sickening spectacle, I sat down on a rock and triedto cry.
"I told yer so," observed William; but I was too tired to attack him.
When the caravan rode into camp I was myself again, smilingly preparedfor the worst, and I advanced, cap in hand, followed furtively byWilliam.
"Welcome," I said, violently injecting joy into my voice. "Welcome,Professor Smawl, to the Hudson Mountains!"
"Kindly take my mule," she said, climbing down to mother earth.
"William," I said, with dignity, "take the lady's mule."
Miss Smawl gave me a stolid glance, then made directly for thecamp-fire, where a kettle of game-broth simmered over the coals. Thelast I saw of her she was smelling of it, and I turned my back andadvanced towards the second lady pilgrim, prepared to be civil untilsnubbed.
Now, it is quite certain that never before had William Spike or Ibeheld so much feminine loveliness in one human body on the back of amule. She was clad in the daintiest of shooting-kilts, yet there wasnothing mannish about her except the way she rode the mule, and thatonly accentuated her adorable femininity.
I remembered what Professor Lesard had said about blue stockings--butMiss Dorothy Van Twiller's were gray, turned over at the tops, anddisappearing into canvas spats buckled across a pair of slimshooting-boots.
"Welcome," said I, attempting to restrain a too violent cordiality."Welcome, Professor Van Twiller, to the Hudson Mountains."
"Thank you," she replied, accepting my assistance very sweetly; "it isa pleasure to meet a human being again."
I glanced at Miss Smawl. She was eating game-broth, but she resembleda human being in a general way.
"I should very much like to wash my hands," said Professor VanTwiller, drawing the buckskin gloves from her slim fingers.
I brought towels and soap and conducted her to the brook.
She called to Professor Smawl to join her, and her voice wascrystalline; Professor Smawl declined, and her voice was batrachian.
"She is so hungry!" observed Miss Van Twiller. "I am very thankful weare here at last, for we've had a horrid time. You see, we neither ofus know how to cook."
I wondered what they would say to William's cooking, but I held mypeace and retired, leaving the little brook to mirror the sweetestface that was ever bathed in water.
In Search of the Unknown Page 7