by Bret Harte
CHAPTER VI.
FOOTPRINTS.
For two weeks an unclouded sun rose and set on the rigid outlines ofMonument Point. For two weeks there had been no apparent change in theghastly whiteness of the snow-flanked rocks; in the white billows thatrose rank on rank beyond, in the deathlike stillness that reigned aboveand below. It was the first day of April; there was the mildness ofearly spring in the air that blew over this gaunt waste, and yet awokeno sound or motion. And yet a nearer approach showed that a slowinsidious change had been taking place. The white flanks of the mountainwere more hollow; the snow had shrunk visibly away in places, leavingthe grey rocks naked and protuberant; the rigid outlines were there, butless full and rounded; the skeleton was beginning to show through thewasting flesh; there were great patches of snow that had sloughed away,leaving the gleaming granite bare below. It was the last change of theHippocratic face that Nature turned toward the spectator. And yet thischange had been noiseless--the solitude unbroken.
And then one day there suddenly drifted across the deathlike valley thechime of jingling spurs and the sound of human voices. Down the longdefile a cavalcade of mounted men and pack mules made their way,plunging through drifts and clattering over rocks. The unwonted soundawoke the long slumbering echoes of the mountain, brought down smallavalanches from cliff and tree, and at last brought from some cavern ofthe rocks to the surface of the snow a figure so wild, haggard,dishevelled, and monstrous, that it was scarcely human. It crawled uponthe snow, dodging behind rocks with the timidity of a frightened animal,and at last, squatting behind a tree, awaited in ambush the approach ofthe party.
Two men rode ahead; one grave, preoccupied, and reticent. The otheralert, active, and voluble. At last the reticent man spoke, but slowly,and as if recalling a memory rather than recording a present impression.
"They cannot be far away from us now. It was in some such spot that Ifirst saw them. The place is familiar."
"Heaven send that it may be!" said the other hastily, "for to tell youthe truth, I doubt if we will be able to keep the men together a daylonger in this crazy quest, unless we discover something."
"It was here," continued the other dreamily, not heeding his companion,"that I saw the figures of a man and woman. If there is not a cairn ofstone somewhere about this spot, I shall believe my dream false, andconfess myself an old fool."
"Well--as I said before," rejoined the other, laughing, "anything--ascrap of paper, an old blanket, or a broken waggon-tongue will do.Columbus helped his course and kept up his crew on a fragment ofseaweed. But what are the men looking at? Great God! There _is_something moving by yonder rock!"
By one common superstitious instinct the whole party had crowdedtogether--those who, a few moments before, had been loudest in theirscepticism, held their breath with awe, and trembled with excitement--asthe shambling figure that had watched them enter the ca[~n]on rose from itslair, and taking upon itself a human semblance, with uncouth gesturesand a strange hoarse cry made towards them. It was Dumphy!
The leader was the first to recover himself. He advanced from the restand met Dumphy half-way.
"Who are you?"
"A man."
"What's the matter?"
"Starving."
"Where are the others?"
Dumphy cast a suspicious glance at him and said--
"Who?"
"The others. You are not alone?"
"Yes, I am!"
"How did you get here?"
"What's that to you? I'm here and starving. Gimme suthin' to eat anddrink."
He sank exhaustedly on all fours again.
There was a murmur of sympathy from the men.
"Give him suthin'. Don't you see he can't stand--much less talk? Where'sthe doctor?"
And then the younger of the leaders thus adjured--"Leave him to me--hewants my help just now more than yours."
He poured some brandy down his throat. Dumphy gasped, and then staggeredto his feet.
"What did you say your name was?" asked the young surgeon kindly.
"Jackson," said Dumphy, with a defiantly blank look.
"Where from?"
"Missouri."
"How did you get here?"
"Strayed from my party."
"And they are----"
"Gone on. Gimme suthin' to eat!"
"Take him back to camp and hand him over to Sanchez. He'll know what todo," said the surgeon to one of the men. "Well, Blunt," he continued,addressing the leader, "you're saved--but your nine men in buckram havedwindled down to one, and not a very creditable specimen at that," hesaid, as his eyes followed the retreating Dumphy.
"I wish it were all, doctor," said Blunt simply; "I would be willing togo back now, but something tells me we have only begun. This one makeseverything else possible. What have you there?"
One of the men was approaching, holding a slip of paper with raggededges, as if torn from some position where it had been nailed.
"A notiss--from a tree. Me no sabe," said the ex-vaquero.
"Nor I," said Blunt, looking at it; "it seems to be in German. CallGlohr."
A tall Swiss came forward. Blunt handed him the paper. The man examinedit.
"It is a direction to find property--important and valuableproperty--buried."
"Where?"
"Under a cairn of stones."
The surgeon and Blunt exchanged glances.
"Lead us there!" said Blunt.
It was a muffled monotonous tramp of about an hour. At the end of thattime they reached a spur of the mountain around which the ca[~n]on turnedabruptly. Blunt uttered a cry. Before them was a ruin--a rude heap ofstones originally symmetrical and elevated, but now thrown down anddismantled. The snow and earth were torn up around and beneath it. Onthe snow lay some scattered papers, a portfolio of drawings of birds andflowers: a glass case of insects broken and demolished, and thescattered feathers of a few stuffed birds. At a little distance laywhat seemed to be a heap of ragged clothing. At the sight of it thenearest horseman uttered a shout and leaped to the ground. It was Mrs.Brackett, dead.