The Seven Darlings
Page 26
XXVI
"Tired?" queried Mr. Bob Jonstone, with some indignation. "I'm not a bittired. I haven't had enough exercise to keep me quiet. And if it wasn'tyour turn to make the fire, your privilege, and your prerogative, I'dinsist on chopping the wood myself. No," he said, leaning backluxuriously, "I find it very hard to keep still. This walking on thelevel is child's play. What I need to keep me in good shape is mountainsto climb."
"Like those we have at home," said Colonel Meredith, and if he didn'tactually wink at Maud, who was arranging some chops on a broiler, hemade one eye smaller than the other.
"What's wrong with _this_ mountain?" asked Maud.
"Why, we are only half-way up, and the real view is from the top!"
"Of course," said Colonel Meredith, "if you want to see the view, don'tlet us stop you. We'll wait for you. Won't we, Miss Maud?"
She nodded, her eyes shining with mischief.
"But," the colonel continued, "Bob is a bluff. He's had all the climbinghe can stand. Nothing but a chest full of treasure or a maiden indistress would take him a step farther."
"After lunch," said Mr. Jonstone, "I shall."
"Do it now! Lunch won't be ready for an hour. Any kind of a walker couldmake the top of the mountain and be back in that time. But I'll bet youanything you like that you can't."
"You will? I'll bet you fifty dollars."
"Done!"
Mr. Jonstone leaped to his feet in a business-like way, waved his handto them, and started briskly off and up along the trail by which theyhad come, and which ended only at the very top of the mountain. Itwasn't that he wanted any more exercise. He wanted to get away for awhile to think things over. He had learned on that day's excursion, orthought he had, that two is company and that three isn't. The pleasantinterchangeableness of the trio's relations seemed suddenly to haveundergone a subtle change. It was as if Maud and Colonel Meredith hadsuddenly found that they liked each other a little better than theyliked him.
So it wasn't a man in search of exercise or eager to win a bet who washastening toward the top of a mountain, but a child who had justdiscovered that dolls are stuffed with sawdust. He suffered a littlefrom jealousy, and a little from anger. He could not have specified whatthey had done to him that morning, and it may have been his imaginationalone that was to blame, but they had made him feel, or he had madehimself feel, like a guest who is present, not because he is wanted butbecause for some reason or other he had to be asked.
He walked himself completely out of breath and that did his mind good.Resting before making a final spurt to the mountain-top, he heard men'svoices shouting and hallooing in the forest. The sounds carried him backto certain coon and rabbit hunts in his native state, and he wonderedwhat these men could be hunting. And having recovered his breath, hewent on.
He came suddenly in view of a great round pool of water in the midst ofwhich was a tiny island, thickly wooded. Just in front of him a fireburned low on a beach of white sand.
Upon the beach, his back to Jonstone, stood a tall, thin man whoappeared to be gazing at the island. Suddenly this man began to shoutaloud:
"She's on the island! She's on the island!"
From the woods came the sound of crashings, scramblings, and oaths,and, one by one, three fat men, very sweaty and crimson in the face,came reeling out on the beach, and ranged themselves with the thin man,and looked drunkenly toward the island.
"She's hiding on the island, the cute thing," said the thin man.
"Did you see her?"
"I saw the bushes move. That's where she is."
"How deep's the water?"
"I'll tell you in about a minute," said the thin man. He threw his coatfrom him, and, sitting down with a sudden lurch, began to unlace hisboots.
"Maybe you don't know it," he said, "but I'm some swimmer, I am."
There was a moment of silence and then there came from the island avoice that sent a thrill through Mr. Bob Jonstone from head to foot. Thevoice was like frightened music with a sob in it.
"Won't you please go away!"
"Good God," he thought, "they're hunting a woman!"
The drunken men had answered that sobbing appeal with a regularview-halloo of drunken laughter.
Mr. Bob Jonstone stepped slowly forward. His thin face had a bluish,steely look; and his eyes glinted wickedly like a rattlesnake's. Beingone against four, he made no declaration of war. He came upon themsecretly from behind. And first he struck a thin neck just below aleathery ear, and then a fat neck.
He was not a strong man physically. But high-strung nerves and cold,collected loathing and fury are powerful weapons.
The thin man and the fat man with the whispering voice lay face down onthe beach and passed from insensibility into stupefied, drunken sleep.But with the other two, Mr. Jonstone had a bad time of it, for he hadbroken a bone in his right hand and the pain was excruciating. Often,during that battle, he thought of the deadly automatic in his pocket.But if he used that, it meant that a woman's name would be printed inthe newspaper.
The fat men fought hard with drunken fury. Their strength was theirweight, and they were always coming at him from opposite sides. But anempty whiskey bottle caught Mr. Jonstone's swift eye and made a suddenend of what its contents had begun. He hit five times and then stoodalone, among the fallen, a bottle neck of brown glass in his hand.
Then he lifted his voice and spoke aloud, as if to the island:
"They'll not trouble you now. What else can I do?"
"God bless you for doing what you've done! I'm a fool girl, and Ithought I was all alone and I went in swimming, and they came and I hidon the island. And I--I haven't got my things with me!"
"Couldn't you get ashore without being seen? These beasts won't look.And I won't look. You can trust me, can't you?"
"When you tell me that nobody is looking I'll come ashore."
"Nobody is looking now."
He heard a splash and sounds as of strong swimming. And he was dying tolook. He took out his little automatic and cocked it, and he said tohimself: "If you do look, Bob, you get shot."
Ten minutes passed.
"Are you all right?" he called.
"Yes, thank you, all right now. But how can I thank you? I don't wantyou to see me, if you don't mind. I don't want you to know who I am. ButI'm the gratefulest girl that ever lived; and I'm going home now, wiserthan when I came, and, listen----"
"I'm listening."
"I think I'd almost die for you. There!"
Mr. Jonstone's hair fairly bristled with emotion.
"But am I never to see you, never to know your name?"
The answer came from farther off.
"Yes, I think so. Some time."
"Do you promise that?"
Silence--and then:
"I _almost_ promise."
* * * * *
Having assured himself that the drunken men were not dead, Mr. Jonstonesighed like a furnace and started down the mountain.
His hand hurt him like the devil, but the pain was first cousin todelight.