The Winning of Barbara Worth

by Harold Bell Wright

  CHAPTER VIII.

  WHY WILLARD HOLMES STAYED.

  Slowly, day by day, the surveying party under the Seer pushed deeperand deeper into the awful desolation of The King's Basin Desert. Theywere the advance force of a mighty army ordered ahead by GoodBusiness--the master passion of the race. Their duty was to learn thestrength of the enemy, to measure its resources, to spy out itsweaknesses and to gather data upon which a campaign would be planned.

  Under the Seer the expedition was divided into several smaller parties,each of which was assigned to certain defined districts. Here andthere, at seemingly careless intervals in the wide expanse, the whitetents of the division camps shone through the many colored veils of thedesert. Tall, thin columns of dust lifted into the sky from the waterwagons that crawled ceaselessly from water hole to camp and from campto water hole--hung in long clouds above the supply train laboringheavily across the dun plain to and from Rubio City--or rose in quickpuffs and twisting spirals from the feet of some saddle horse bearing amessenger from the Chief to some distant lieutenant.

  Every morning, from each of the camps, squads of khaki-clad men bearingtransit and level, stake and pole and flag--the weapons of theirwarfare--put out in different directions into the vast silence thatseemed to engulf them. Every evening the squads returned,desert-stained and weary, to their rest under the lonesome stars. Everymorning the sun broke fiercely up from the long level of the eastwardplain to pour its hot strength down upon these pigmy creatures, whodared to invade the territory over which he had, for so many ages, heldundisputed dominion. Every evening the sun plunged fiercely down behindthe purple wall of mountains that shut in the Basin on the west, as ifto gather strength in some nether world for to-morrow's fight.

  Always there was the same flood of white light from the deep, dry skythat was uncrossed by shred of cloud; always the same wide, tawnywaste, harshly glaring near at hand--filled with awful mysteries underthe many colored mists of the distance; until the eyes ached and thesoul cried out in wonder at it all. Always there were the same deepnights, with the lonely stars so far away in the velvet purpledarkness; the soft breathing of the desert; the pungent smell ofgreasewood and salt-bush; the weird, quavering call of the ground owl;or the wild coyote chorus, as if the long lost spirits of long agosavage races cried out a dreadful warning to these invaders.

  And in all of this the land made itself felt against these men in thesilent menace, the still waiting, the subtle call, the promise, thethreat and the challenge of La Palma de la Mano de Dios.

  To Barbara, who rode often in those days to the very rim of the Basin,there to search the wild, wide land with straining eyes for signs ofher friends, the white glare of the camps was lost in the bewilderingmaze of color. The columns, clouds and spirals of dust--save perhapsfrom a near supply wagon coming in or passing out--could not bedistinguished from the whirling dust-devils that danced always over thehot plains. The toiling pigmy dots of the little army were far beyondher vision's range. It was as though the fierce land had swallowed uphorses, wagons and men. Only through the frequent letters brought bythe freighters did she know that all was going well.

  Perhaps the gray lizard that climbed to the top of a line stakewondered at the strange new growth that had sprung so suddenly from thefamiliar soil; or perhaps the horned-toad, scuttling to cover, marveledat the strange sounds as the stakes were driven and man called to manfigures and directions. Perhaps the scaly side-winder, springing hiswarning rattle at the approaching step, questioned what new enemy thiswas; or the lone buzzard, wheeling high over head, watched the tinymoving figures with wondering hopefulness, and the coyote, that hushedfor a little his wild music to follow up the wind this strange newscent, laughed at the Seer's dream.

  These lines of stakes that every day stretched farther and farther intoand across the waste seemed, in the wideness of the land, pitifullyfoolish. Looking back over the lines, the men who set them couldscarcely distinguish the way they had come. But they knew that thestakes were there. They knew that some day that other, mightiercompany, the main army, would move along the way they had marked tomeet the strength of the barren waste with the strength of the greatriver and take for the race the wealth of the land. The sound of humanvoices was flat and ineffectual in that age-old solitude, but thespeakers knew that following their feeble voices would come theshouting, ringing, thundering chorus of the life that was to followthem into that silent land of death.

  With the slow passing of the weeks came the trying out and testing ofcharacter inevitable to such a work. The concealing habits ofcivilization were dropped. Kindly, useful conventionalities were lost.Face to face with the unconquered forces of nature, nothing remainedbut the real strength or weakness of the individual himself. In somethere were developed unguessed powers of endurance that bore the harddays without flinching; cheerful optimism that laughed at the appallingimmensity of the task; strength of spirit that made a jest of gallingdiscomforts; courage that smiled in the face of dangers. These were thestrength of the party. Some there were who grew sullen, quarrelsome,and vicious in a kind of mad rebellion. These must be held in check,controlled and governed by the Seer with the assistance of Abe Lee andhis helpers. Some became silent and moody, faint hearted and afraid.These were strengthened and guarded and given fresh courage. Some grewpeevish and fretful, whining and complaining. These were disciplinedwisely, forced gently into line. Some staggered and fell by the way.These were sent back and the ranks closed up. But the work--always thework went on.

  To Willard Holmes the life was a slow torture, a revelation and aneducation. He found himself stripped of everything upon which he wasaccustomed to rely--family traditions, social position, influentialfriends, scholarship, experience in the world to which he was born--allthese were nothing in The Hollow of God's Hand. Slowly he learned thatthe power of such wealth is limited to certain fields. New York wasvery far away. He felt that he had been hopelessly banished to astrange world. Many times he would have thrown it all up and turnedback with other deserters, but there was red blood in his veins.Stubborn pride and the thought of the girl who had hoped that he would"learn the language of her country" enabled him to hold on.

  Once he ventured to speak to the Chief in a hopeless voice of theevident impossibility of ever converting that terrible land into ahabitable country, and the Seer, strong in the strength of his dream,had looked at him from the still depth of his brown eyes without aword--looked until the younger man had turned away, his cheeks flushedwith shame and his spirit doing homage to the strength of the masterspirit of the work. And the eastern engineer remembered with newunderstanding his talks with Barbara Worth.

  When they pulled the dead coyote from the only water hole within twodays' travel and Holmes nearly fainted at the sickening sight, it wasTexas Joe who saved the day for him by remarking, with an air ofphilosophical musing, after a deep draught of the tepid, tainted water:"Hit ain't so bad as you might think, Mr. Holmes, onct your oilfactorynerves has become somewhat regulated to the aroma and your palate hasbeen eddicated to the point of appreciatin' the deliciously foreignflavor. In the judgment of some connysoors, it has several points thelead of them imported fancy drinks you get in Frisco."

  When a Mexican died horribly from the bite of a rattlesnake, and Holmeshimself was barely saved from a like fate by the prompt action andready knowledge of Abe Lee, it was the slow smile of the desert-bredsurveyor that stiffened him to go on.

  And when he was nearly beaten by a three days' sand-storm so searchingthat even the flap-jacks and bacon gritted in his teeth and hisblood-shot eyes smarted in his head like coals of fire and his skinfelt as though it had been sand-papered, when he would have sold hissoul for a bath and actually began to get his things together inreadiness for the next wagon out, it was Pat, who, with the devilishingenuity of an Irish imp, mocked and jeered at him for a quitter, "fitto act only as lady's maid or to serve soft dhrinks in a cornerdrug-sthore," until his fainting heart took fire and, cursing histormentor with all the oaths
he could muster, he offered to whip,single-handed, the whole grinning camp and stayed.

  Thus he was advanced to the second degree, when he began to sense thespirit of the untamed land and of the men who went to meet it withsheer joy of the conquest; when he began to glory in the very greatnessof the task; and the long dormant spirit of his ancestors stirredwithin him as he caught glimpses of the vision that inspired the Seeror, perhaps it should be written, the vision that tempted hisemployers, James Greenfield and his fellow capitalists.

  He was still far from ready for the final degree; but even that mightcome.

  Through all those hard days Jefferson Worth moved with the samecareful, precise, certain manner that distinguished him in his work athome. Even the desert sun that so tanned, blistered and blackened thefaces of his companions could not mark the gray pallor of thatmask-like face. No disturbing incident or unforeseen difficulty couldwring from him an exclamation or change the measured tones of hiscolorless voice. He seemed to accept everything as though he hadforeseen, carefully considered and dismissed it from his mind before itcame to pass. Day after day he rode in every direction over the landwithin easy reach of the many camps; familiarizing himself with everydetail of the work, observing soil, studying conditions, poring overmaps and figures with the Seer, verifying estimates, listening to andtaking part in the many councils of the leaders. But not once didanyone catch a hint of what was going on behind those expressionlessblue eyes that seemed to see everything without effort and to beincapable of expressing the emotions of the soul within.

  To the men he was the visible representative of that invisible powerthat willed their going forth. He was Capital--Money--Businessincarnate. They set him apart as one not of their world. In hispresence laughter was hushed, jests were unspoken. Silently they waitedfor him to speak first. When he conversed with them they answeredthoughtfully in subdued tones, seeming to feel that their words werereceived by one who placed upon them undreamed-of values. Filled asthese men were with the enthusiasm of their work, they were neverunconscious of the knowledge that but for the power represented byJefferson Worth their work would be impossible.

  Small wonder, then, that there was consternation in the headquarterscamp that night when Pat appeared, hat in hand, before the company ofleaders in the Seer's office tent. "I beg yer pardon, Sorr."

  "What is it, Pat?" asked the Seer, and all eyes were turned upon theburly Irishman, whose face and voice as well as his presence at thathour betrayed some unusual incident. "'Tis this, Sorr. Has anywan seenMr. Worth this avenin'?"

  Every head was shaken negatively.

  "Was he not at supper wid you gintlemen?"

  "Why no, he was not," returned the Seer. "But it is nothing unusual forhim to be late. Have you asked the cook?"

  "We have, Sorr. Ye see, whin ut come time to turn in an' he hadn'tshown up an' Tex seen that his horse wasn't wid the bunch, we got a bitunaisy like. We axed the cook, an' we've been to his tent, an' we'veaxed the men."

  "Perhaps he has put up at one of the other camps," suggested a surveyor.

  "That's not like, Sorr, for he rode northeast this mornin'. Me an' Texwatched him go; an' there's divil a camp in that direction as we allknow."

  "He surely intended to return here or he would have told us," said theSeer. "You know how careful he is. What do you think, Abe?"

  Before Abe could answer a Mexican ran up, and Pat, turning, hauled himinto the tent by the neck. "Fwhat the hell is ut, ye greaser?"

  "Senor Texas send me quick," the little brown man panted, bowing low tothe company, sombrero in hand. "Senor Worth's horse, he just come. Inthe saddle is no one. Senor Worth he is not come. I think he is gone."

  Before the Mexican finished speaking there was a rush of feet and hewas alone. With a shrug of his shoulders and a flash of his whiteteeth, he turned leisurely to follow, saying half aloud: "It is all inLa Palma de la Mano de Dios, Senor Worth. Maybe so you come back, maybethis time not." He stood for a moment looking into the black vault ofthe night; then, with another shrug, retired to his blanket to sleep.

  Abe Lee was first to reach the corral where Texas Joe, by the light ofa lantern, was examining Mr. Worth's horse. No word was exchangedbetween them while the surveyor in turn looked carefully over theanimal. The others, coming up, stood silent a little apart, waiting forthe word of these two.

  "What do you make of it, Abe?" asked the Seer when the long surveyorturned toward him.

  Deliberately rolling a cigarette, Abe answered from a cloud of smoke:"He is left afoot too far out to walk in, likely. We'll go for him inthe morning."

  A startled exclamation came from Willard Holmes, but no one heeded asthe surveyor turned to Texas Joe. "How do you figure it, Tex?"

  "The same," came the laconic answer. "This here cayuse wasn't broke tostand. He must have been tied somewheres, 'cause the reins are busted."He pointed to the pieces of leather hanging from the bit. "The canteenis gone. Jefferson Worth is too old a hand on the desert to leave it onthe horse. He likely tied the pony to a bush and went to climb a hillor something. Mr. Hawss breaks loose and pulls for home. It happened agood way out, 'cause the pony's pretty well tired, which he wouldn'ta-been, travelin' light, if Mr. Worth hadn't ridden some distancebefore it happened. An' if he was nearer the pony would have been inearlier. He'll likely show us a smoke in the morning and even if hedon't it'll be easy to trail him, 'cause there ain't no wind. Will Igo, sir?" He looked at the Chief.

  "Yes; you and Abe, don't you think?"

  Abe assented and the men turned toward the tents while Texas led thetired horse away.

  The New York engineer approached the Chief. "Do I understand, sir, thatyou propose to do nothing until morning?"

  The Seer faced him. "There is nothing to do, Mr. Holmes," he saidsimply.

  Willard Holmes was amazed at the man's apparent unconcern. "Nothing todo?" he exclaimed. "Why don't you arouse the men and send them in everydirection to search? Why man, don't you realize the situation? Mr.Worth may be hurt. He may even be dying alone out there! I protest!It's monstrous! It's cowardly, inhuman, to do nothing!"

  The company, attracted by the loud words, paused. Abe Lee, standingbeside his Chief, rolled another cigarette while the engineer wasspeaking.

  The Seer answered patiently: "But Mr. Holmes, we could accomplishnothing by such a search as you suggest. The territory is too large tocover with a hundred times the number of men we have in camp. Atdaylight, when they can follow his trail, Abe and Tex will ride to himas fast as their horses can go. Granting that the worst you suggest maybe true, our plan is the only sane way." "But I protest, sir. Youshould make the attempt. I will not submit to idly doing nothing whilea life is in danger--particularly that of a man like Mr. Worth. I shallgo alone if no one will help me, and"--he straightened himselfhaughtily--"I shall report this to Mr. Greenfield and the meninterested with him in this work."

  At the last words one of those rare changes swept over the bigengineer, and the witnesses saw a side of the Chief's nature that wasseldom revealed. His eyes flashed and his face hardened as he burstforth in tones that startled his hearers: "Report me? You! Report andbe damned, sir. I was old at this work when you were a sucking babe.These men were learning the desert when you were attending afashionable dancing school. Why, you damned lily-fingered tenderfoot,you couldn't find your way five hundred yards in this country without aguide or a compass. Now, sir, I'm running this outfit and if you haveany protests against my cowardly inhumanity I advise you to smotherthem in your manly breast, or, by hell! I'll ship you out on the firstwagon to-morrow morning and let you report to Greenfield that you werefired because you didn't know your work yourself and hadn'tintelligence enough to listen to those who did!"

  The Chief paused for breath, and Willard Holmes, whose experience withlarge corporations was expected to make him peculiarly valuable to thecapitalists who sent him out, turned away with what dignity he couldcommand.

  "Howly Mither!" came a hoarse whisper from Pat to Abe; "I made sure
thepoor bhoy wud shrivel up. Sich a witherin', blistherin' tongue lashin'wud scorch the hide av the owld divil himsilf." He looked admiringlyafter the Seer. "D'ye think, now, that the poor lad will be afthertacklin' the job alone, like he said? Sure, ut's nerve he has all rightbut he lacks judgment."

  "Yes, he has the nerve all right," returned Abe slowly, "and we'dbetter keep an eye on him. Tell Tex."

  Willard Holmes knew that he owed his Chief an apology and he promisedhimself to make it in the morning. But neither the explanation of theSeer nor the bitter humiliation that he had brought upon himself couldturn his thoughts from Mr. Worth alone on the desert. To sleep wasimpossible. The banker might be----As he tossed in his blankets theengineer pictured to himself a hundred things that might have happenedto Barbara's father.

  It was some two hours later when Pat touched Abe Lee on the shoulder.

  "All right, Pat," said the surveyor, fully awake and in possession ofall his senses in an instant.

  "There's a light bobbin' off into nowhere an' the lad's blankets areimpty."

  Fifteen minutes later a quiet voice within three feet of Willard Holmesasked: "Shall I go with you, sir?"

  The eastern man jumped like a nervous woman. He had not heard theapproach of the surveyor, who walked with the step of an Indian. "Icouldn't sleep," he explained. "I thought I would follow the tracks alittle way out at least. He may not be so far away as you think."

  After Abe had taken time to make his cigarette he spoke meditatively."Mr. Worth rode a horse."

  "I understand that," returned the man with the lantern tartly. "I sawhim go this morning and I saw the horse to-night. This is the track."

  From another cloud of smoke came the quiet, respectful answer: "Butthis is a mule's track, Mr. Holmes. It is Manuel Ramirez's mule. See,he has a broken shoe on the off fore-foot. I noticed it yesterday whenI sent Manuel to hunt a water hole. Besides, Mr. Worth rode northeast;not in this direction."