Chapter II
Superstition Pool
Physically tired as they were, the night was a restless one for bothHelen and her father. They ate their meal in silence for the mostpart, made their beds close together, picketed their horses near by andsaid their listless 'good nights' early. Each heard the other turn andfidget many times before both went to sleep. Helen saw how her father,with a fine assumption of careless habit, laid a big new revolver closeto his head.
The girl dozed and woke when the pallid moon shone upon her face. Shelifted herself upon her elbow. The moonlight touched upon the willowstick she had thrust into the sand at her bedside; the feather wasupright and like a plume. She considered it gravely; it became thestarting-point of many romantic imaginings. Somehow it was a token; ofjust exactly what, to be sure, she could not decide. Not definitely,that is; it was always indisputable that the message of the bluebird isone of good fortune.
A less vivid imagination than Helen's would have found a tang ofghostliness in the night. The crest of the ridge over which they hadcome through the dusk now showed silvery white; white also were somedead branches of desert growth--they looked like bones. Always throughthe intense silence stirred an indistinguishable breath like a shiver.Individual bushes assumed grotesque shapes; when she looked long andintently at one she began to fancy that it moved. She scoffed atherself, knowing that she was lending aid to tricking her own senses,yet her heart beat a wee bit faster. She gave her mind to largeconsiderations: those of infinity, as her eyes were lifted heavenwardand dwelt upon the brightest star; those of life and death, and all ofthe mystery of mysteries. She went to sleep struggling with theancient problem: 'Do the dead return? Are there, flowing about us,weird, supernatural influences as potent and intangible as electriccurrents?' In her sleep she continued her interesting investigations,but her dreaming vision explained the evening's problem by showing herthe camp-fire made, the bacon and coffee set thereon, by a very niceyoung man with splendid eyes.
She stirred, smiled sleepily, and lay again without moving; after thefashion of one awakening she clung to the misty frontiers of a fadingdream-country. She breathed deeply, inhaling the freshness of the newdawn. Then suddenly her eyes flew open, and she sat up with a littlecry; a man who would have fitted well enough into any fancy-freemaiden's dreams was standing close to her side, looking down at her.Helen's hands flew to her hair.
Plainly--she read that in the first flashing look--he was no lessastounded than she. At the moment he made a picture to fill the eyeand remain in the memory of a girl fresh from an Eastern City. Thetall, rangy form was garbed in the picturesque way of the country; shetook him in from the heels of the black boots with their silver spursto the top of his head with its amazingly wide black hat. He stoodagainst a sky rapidly filling to the warm glow of the morning. Hishorse, a rarely perfect creation even in the eyes of one who knewlittle of fine breeding in animals, stood just at its master's heels,with ears pricked forward curiously.
Helen wondered swiftly if he intended to stand there until the sun cameup, just looking at her. Though it was scarcely more than a momentthat he stood thus, in Helen's confusion the time seemed much longer.She began to grow ill at ease; she felt a quick spurt of irritation.No doubt she looked a perfect fright, taken all unawares like this, andequally indisputably he was forming an extremely uncomplimentaryopinion of her. It required less than three seconds for Miss Helen todecide emphatically that the man was a horrible creature.
But he did not look any such thing. He was healthy and brown andboyish. He had had a shave and haircut no longer ago than yesterdayand looked neat and clean. His mouth was quite as large as a man'sshould be and now was suddenly smiling. At the same instant his hatcame off in his big brown hand and a gleam of downright joyousnessshone in his eyes.
'Impudent beast!' was Helen's quick thought. She had given her mindlast night a great deal less to matters of toilet than to mysticimaginings; it lay entirely in the field of absurd likelihood thatthere was a smear of black across her face.
'My mistake,' grinned the stranger. 'Guess I'll step out while thestepping's good and the road open. If there's one sure thing a manought to be shot for, it's stampeding in on another fellow's honeymoon._Adios, senora_.'
'Honeymoon!' gasped Helen. 'The big fool.'
Her father wakened abruptly, sat up, grasping his big revolver in bothhands, and blinked about him; he, too, had had his dreams. In thenight-cap which he had purchased in San Juan, his wide, grave eyes andsun-blistered face turned up inquiringly; he was worthy of a secondglance as he sat prepared to defend himself and his daughter. Thestranger had just set the toe of his boot into the stirrup; in thisposture he remained, forgetful of his intention to mount, while hismare began to circle and he had to hop along to keep pace with her, hiseyes upon the startled occupant of the bed beyond Helen's. He had hadbarely more than time to note the evident discrepancy in ages whichnaturally should have started his mind down a new channel for theexplanation of the true relationship, when the revolver clutchedtightly in unaccustomed fingers went off with an unexpected roar. Dustspouted up a yard beyond the feet of the man who held it. The horseplunged, the stranger went up into the saddle like a flash, and the mandropped his gun to his blanket and muttered in the natural bewildermentof the moment:
'It--it went off by itself! The most amazing----'
The rider brought his prancing horse back and fought with his facialmuscles for gravity; the light in his eyes was utterly beyond hiscontrol.
'I'd better be going off by myself somewhere,' he remarked as gravelyas he could manage, 'if you're going to start shooting a man up justbecause he calls before breakfast.'
With a face grown a sick white, the man in bed looked helplessly fromthe stranger to his daughter and then to the gun.
'I didn't do a thing to it,' he began haltingly.
'You won't do a thing to yourself one of these fine days.' remarked thehorseman with evident relish, 'if you don't quit carrying that sort oflife-saver. Come over to the ranch and I'll swap you a hand-axe forit.'
Helen sniffed audibly and distastefully. Her first impression of thestranger had been more correct than are first impressions nine timesout of ten; he was as full of impudence as a city sparrow. She had satup 'looking like a fright'; her father had made himself ridiculous; thestranger was mirthfully concerned with the amusing possibilities ofboth of them.
Suddenly the tall man, smitten by inspiration, slapped his thigh withone hand, while with the other he curbed rebellion in his mare andoffered the explosive wager:
'I'll bet a man a dollar I've got your number, friends. You areProfessor James Edward Longstreet and his little daughter Helen! Am Iright?'
'You are correct, sir,' acknowledged the professor a trifle stiffly.His eye did not rise, but clung in a fascinated, faintly accusing wayto the gun which had betrayed him.
The stranger nodded and then lifted his hat for the ceremony while hepresented himself.
'Name of Howard,' he announced breezily. 'Alan Howard of the old DiazRancho. Glad to know you both.'
'It is a pleasure, I am sure, Mr. Howard,' said the professor. 'But,if you will pardon me, at this particular time of day----'
Alan Howard laughed his understanding.
'I'll chase up to the pool and give Helen a drink of real water,' hesaid lightly. 'Funny my mare's name should be Helen, too, isn't it?'This directly into a pair of eyes which the growing light showed to begrey and attractive, but just now hostile. 'Then, if you say the word,I'll romp back and take you up on a cup of coffee. And we'll talkthings over.'
He stooped forward in the saddle a fraction of an inch; his mare caughtthe familiar signal and leaped; they were gone, racing away across thesand which was flung up after them like spray.
'Of all the fresh propositions!' gasped Helen.
But she knew that he would not long delay his return, and so slippedquickly from under her blanket and hurried down to the water-hole t
obathe her hands and face and set herself in order. Her flying fingersfound her little mirror; there wasn't any smudge on her face, afterall, and her hair wasn't so terribly unbecoming that way; tousled, tobe sure, but then, nice, curly hair can be tousled and still not makeone a perfect hag. It _was_ odd about his mare being named Helen. Hemust have thought the name pretty, for obviously he and his horse wereboth intimate and affectionate. 'Alan Howard.' Here, too, was rathera nice name for a man met by chance out in the desert. She paused inthe act of brushing her hair. Was she to get an explanation of lastnight's puzzle? Was Mr. Howard the man who had lighted the other fire?
The professor's taciturnity was of a pronounced order this morning.Now and then as he made his own brief and customarily untidy toilet, heturned a look of accusation upon the big Colt lying on his bed. Beforedrawing on his boots he bestowed upon his toe a long glance ofaffection; the bullet that had passed within a very few inches of thisadjunct of his anatomy had emphasized a toe's importance. He had neverrealized how pleasant it was to have two big toes, all one's own andunmarred. By the time the foot had been coaxed and jammed down intohis new boot the professor's good humour was on the way to beingrestored; a man of one thought at the time, due to his long habit ofconcentration, his emotion was now one of a subdued rejoicing. Itneeded but the morning cup of coffee to set him beaming upon the world.
Alan Howard's sudden call: 'Can I come in now, folks?' from across abrief space of sand and brush, found Professor Longstreet on his kneesfeeding twigs to a tiny blaze, and hastened Helen through the finaltouches of her dressing. Helen was humming softly to herself, her backto him, her mind obviously concentrated upon the bread she was slicing,when the stranger swung down from his saddle and came forward. Hestood a moment just behind her, looking at her with very evidentinterest in his eyes.
'How do you like our part of the world?' he asked friendliwise.
Helen ignored him briefly. Had Mr. Alan Howard been a bashful youngman of the type that reddens and twists its hat in big nervous handsand looks guilty in general. Miss Helen Longstreet would have beenswiftly all that was sweet and kind to him. Now, however, from somevague reason or clouded instinct, she was prepared to be as stiff asthe fanged stalk of a cactus. Having ignored him the proper length oftime, she replied coolly:
'Father and I are very much pleased with the desert country. But, mayI ask just why you speak of it as your part of the world rather thanours? Are we trespassing, pray?' The afterthought was accompanied byan upflashing look that was little less than outright challenge.
'Trespassing? Lord, no,' conceded Howard heartily. 'The land is wide,the trail open at both ends. But you know what I meant.'
Helen shrugged and laid aside the half-loaf. Since she gave him noanswer, Howard went on serenely:
'I mean a man sort of acquires a feeling of ownership in the place inwhich he has lived a long time. You and your father are Eastern, notWestern. If I came tramping into your neck of the woods--you see Icall it _yours_. Right enough, too, don't you think, professor?'
'In a way of speaking, yes,' answered the professor. 'In another way,no. We have given up the old haunts and the old way of living. We arerather inclined, my dear young sir, to look upon this as our country,too.'
'Bully for you!' cried Howard warmly. 'You're sure welcome.' His eyescame back from the father to rest upon the daughter's bronze tresses.'Welcome as a water-hole in a hot land,' he added emphatically.
'Speaking of water-holes,' suggested Longstreet, sitting back upon hisboot heels in a manner to suggest the favourite squatting position ofthe cowboys of whom he and his daughter had seen much during these lastfew weeks, 'was it you who made camp right over yonder?' He pointed.
Helen looked up curiously for Howard's answer and thus met the eyes hehad not withdrawn from her. He smiled at her, a frank, open sort ofsmile, and thereafter turned to his questioner.
'When?' he asked briefly.
'Last night. Just before we came.'
'What makes you think some one made camp there?'
'There was a fire; bacon was frying, coffee boiling.'
'And you didn't step across to take a squint at your next-doorneighbour?'
'We did,' said the professor. 'But he had gone, leaving his fireburning, his meal cooking.'
Howard's eyes travelled swiftly to Helen, then back to her father.
'And he didn't come back?'
'He did not,' said Longstreet. 'Otherwise I should not have asked ifyou were he.'
Even yet Howard gave no direct answer. Instead he turned his back andstrode away to the deserted camp site. Helen watched him through thebushes and noted how he made a quick but evidently thorough examinationof the spot. She saw him stoop, pick up frying-pan and cup, drop themand pass around the spring, his eyes on the ground. Abruptly he turnedaway and pushed through a clump of bushes, disappearing. In fiveminutes he returned, his face thoughtful.
'What time did you get here?' he asked. And when he had his answer hepondered it a moment before he went on: 'The gent didn't leave hiscard. But he broke camp in a regular blue-blazes hurry; saddled hishorse over yonder and struck out the shortest way toward King Canon.He went as if the devil himself and his one best bet in hell hounds wasrunning at his stirrups.'
'How do you know?' queried Longstreet's insatiable curiosity. 'Youdidn't see him?'
'You saw the fire and the things he left stewing,' countered Howard.'They spelled hurry, didn't they? Didn't they shout into your earsthat he was on the lively scamper for some otherwhere?'
'Not necessarily,' maintained Longstreet eagerly. 'Reasoning fromthe scant evidence before us, a man would say that while the strangermay have left his camp to hurry on, he may on the other hand have justdodged back when he heard us coming and hidden somewhere close by.'
Again Howard pondered briefly.
'There are other signs you did not see,' he said in a moment. 'Thesoil where he had his horse staked out shows tracks, and they are thetracks of a horse going some from the first jump. Horse and man tookthe straightest trail and went ripping through a patch of mesquite thata man would generally go round. Then there's something else. Want tosee?'
They went with him, the professor with alacrity, Helen with a studiedpretence at indifference. By the spring where Helen had found thewillow rod and the bluebird feather, Howard stopped and pointed down.
'There's a set of tracks for you,' he announced triumphantly. 'Supposeyou spell 'em out, professor; what do you make of them?'
The professor studied them gravely. In the end he shook his head.
'Coyote?' he suggested.
Howard shook his head.
'No coyote,' he said with positiveness. 'That track shows a foot fourtimes as big as any coyote's that ever scratched fleas. Wolf? Maybe.It would be a whopper of a wolf at that. Look at the size of it, man!Why, the ugly brute would be big enough to scare my prize shorthornbull into taking out life insurance. And that isn't all. That's justthe front foot. Now look at the hind foot. Smaller, longer, andleaving a lighter imprint. All belonging to the same animal.' Hescratched his head in frank bewilderment. 'It's a new one on me,' heconfessed frankly. Then he chuckled. 'I'd bet a man that the gent wholeft on the hasty foot just got one squint at this little beastie andat that had all sorts of good reasons for streaking out.'
A big lizard went rustling through a pile of dead leaves and all threeof them started. Howard laughed.
'We're right near Superstition Pool!' he informed them with suddenlyassumed gravity. 'Down in Poco Poco they tell some great tales aboutthe old Indian gods going man-hunting by moonlight. _Quien sabe_, huh?'
Professor Longstreet snorted. Helen cast a quick, interested look atthe stranger and one of near triumph upon her father.
'I smell somebody's coffee boiling,' said the cattleman abruptly. 'AmI invited in for a cup? Or shall I mosey on? Don't be bashful insaying I'm not wanted if I'm not.'
'Of course you are w
elcome,' said Longstreet heartily. But Howardturned to Helen and waited for her to speak.
'Of course.' said Helen carelessly.