{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_33066/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_33066","id":"gutenberg_33066","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33066","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: American Literature","Category: Novels","Horses -- Fiction","Religion -- Fiction","Western stories"],"text":"E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)\n\n\n\nTHE GARDEN OF EDEN\n\nby\n\nMAX BRAND\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nDodd, Mead & Company\nNew York\n\nCopyright 1922 by Popular Publications, Inc.\nCopyright renewed 1950 by Dorothy Faust\nAll rights reserved\n\nNo part of this book may be reproduced in any form\nwithout permission in writing from the publisher\n\nFirst published in book form October, 1963\n\nLibrary of Congress Catalog Card Number: 63-20473\n\nPrinted in the United States of America\nby Vail-Ballou Press, Inc., Binghamton, N.Y.\n\n\n     The characters, places, incidents, and situations in this book\n     are imaginary and have no relation to any person, place, or\n     actual happening.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER ONE_\n\n\nBy careful tailoring the broad shoulders of Ben Connor were made to\nappear fashionably slender, and he disguised the depth of his chest by a\nstoop whose model slouched along Broadway somewhere between sunset and\ndawn. He wore, moreover, the first or second pair of spats that had ever\nstepped off the train at Lukin Junction, a glowing Scotch tweed, and a\nPanama hat of the color and weave of fine old linen. There was a\nskeleton at this Feast of Fashion, however, for only tight gloves could\nmake the stubby fingers and broad palms of Connor presentable. At\nninety-five in the shade gloves were out of the question, so he held a\npair of yellow chamois in one hand and in the other an amber-headed\ncane. This was the end of the little spur-line, and while the train\nbacked off down the track, staggering across the switch, Ben Connor\nlooked after it, leaning upon his cane just forcibly enough to feel the\nflection of the wood. This was one of his attitudes of elegance, and\nwhen the train was out of sight, and only the puffs of white vapor\nrolled around the shoulder of the hill, he turned to look the town over,\nhaving already given Lukin Junction ample time to look over Ben Connor.\n\nThe little crowd was not through with its survey, but the eye of the\nimposing stranger abashed it. He had one of those long somber faces\nwhich Scotchmen call \"dour.\" The complexion was sallow, heavy pouches of\nsleeplessness lay beneath his eyes, and there were ridges beside the\ncorners of his mouth which came from an habitual compression of the\nlips. Looked at in profile he seemed to be smiling broadly so that the\ngravity of the full face was always surprising. It was this that made\nthe townsfolk look down. After a moment, they glanced back at him\nhastily. Somewhere about the corners of his lips or his eyes there was a\nglint of interest, a touch of amusement--they could not tell which, but\nfrom that moment they were willing to forget the clothes and look at the\nman.\n\nWhile Ben Connor was still enjoying the situation, a rotund fellow bore\ndown on him.\n\n\"You're Mr. Connor, ain't you? You wired for a room in the hotel? Come\non, then. My rig is over here. These your grips?\"\n\nHe picked up the suit case and the soft leather traveling bag, and led\nthe way to a buckboard at which stood two downheaded ponies.\n\n\"Can't we walk?\" suggested Ben Connor, looking up and down the street at\nthe dozen sprawling frame houses; but the fat man stared at him with\ncalm pity. He was so fat and so good-natured that even Ben Connor did\nnot impress him greatly.\n\n\"Maybe you think this is Lukin?\" he asked.\n\nWhen the other raised his heavy black eyebrows he explained: \"This ain't\nnothing but Lukin Junction. Lukin is clear round the hill. Climb in, Mr.\nConnor.\"\n\nConnor laid one hand on the back of the seat, and with a surge of his\nstrong shoulders leaped easily into his place; the fat man noted this\nwith a roll of his little eyes, and then took his own place, the old\nwagon careening toward him as he mounted the step. He sat with his right\nfoot dangling over the side of the buckboard, and a plump shoulder\nturned fairly upon his passenger so that when he spoke he had to throw\nhis head and jerk out the words; but this was apparently his\ntime-honored position in the wagon, and he did not care to vary it for\nthe sake of conversation. A flap of the loose reins set the horses\njog-trotting out of Lukin Junction down a gulch which aimed at the side\nof an enormous mountain, naked, with no sign of a village or even a\nsingle shack among its rocks. Other peaks crowded close on the right and\nleft, with a loftier range behind, running up to scattered summits white\nwith snow and blue with distance. The shadows of the late afternoon were\nthick as fog in the gulch, and all the lower mountains were already dim\nso that the snow-peaks in the distance seemed as detached, and high as\nclouds. Ben Connor sat with his cane between his knees and his hands\ndraped over its amber head and watched those shining places until the\nfat man heaved his head over his shoulder.\n\n\"Most like somebody told you about Townsend's Hotel?\"\n\nHis passenger moved his attention from the mountain to his companion. He\nwas so leisurely about it that it seemed he had not heard.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"I was told of the place.\"\n\n\"Who?\" said the other expectantly.\n\n\"A friend of mine.\"\n\nThe fat man grunted and worked his head around so far that a great\nwrinkle rolled up his neck close to his ear. He looked into the eye of\nthe stranger.\n\n\"Me being Jack Townsend, I'm sort of interested to know things like\nthat; the ones that like my place and them that don't.\"\n\nConnor nodded, but since he showed no inclination to name his friend,\nJack Townsend swung on a new tack to come to the windward of this\nuncommunicative guest. Lukin was a fairly inquisitive town, and the\nhotel proprietor usually contributed his due portion and more to the\ngossips.\n\n\"Some comes for one reason and some for another,\" went on Townsend,\n\"which generally it's to hunt and fish. That ain't funny come to think\nof it, because outside of liars nobody ever hooked finer trout than what\ncomes out of the Big Sandy. Some of 'em comes for the mining--they was a\nstrike over to South Point last week--and some for the cows, but mostly\nit's the fishing and the hunting.\"\n\nHe paused, but having waited in vain he said directly: \"I can show you\nthe best holes in the Big Sandy.\"\n\nThere was another of those little waits with which, it seemed, the\nstranger met every remark; not a thoughtful pause, but rather as though\nhe wondered if it were worth while to make any answer.\n\n\"I've come here for the silence,\" he said.\n\n\"Silence,\" repeated Townsend, nodding in the manner of one who does not\nunderstand.\n\nThen he flipped the roan with the butt of his lines and squinted down\nthe gulch, for he felt there might be a double meaning in the last\nremark. Filled with the gloomy conviction that he was bringing a silent\nman to his hotel, he gloomily surveyed the mountain sides. There was\nnothing about them to cheer him. The trees were lost in shadows and all\nthe slopes seemed quite barren of life. He vented a little burst of\nanger by yanking at the rein of the off horse, a dirty gray.\n\n\"Giddap, Kitty, damn your eyes!\"\n\nThe mare jumped, struck a stone with a fore foot, and stumbled heavily.\nTownsend straightened her out again with an expert hand and cursed.\n\n\"Of all the no-good hosses I ever see,\" he said, inviting the stranger\nto share in his just wrath, \"this Kitty is the outbeatingest, no good\nrascal. Git on, fool.\"\n\nHe clapped the reins along her back, and puffed his disgust.\n\n\"And yet she has points. Now, I ask you, did you ever see a truer\nSteeldust? Look at that high croup and that straight rump. Look at them\nhips, I say, and a chest to match 'em. But they ain't any heart in her.\nTake a hoss through and through,\" he went on oracularly, \"they're pretty\nmuch like men, mostly, and if a man ain't got the heart inside, it don't\nmake no difference how big around the chest he measures.\"\n\nBen Connor had leaned forward, studying the mare.\n\n\"Your horse would be all right in her place,\" he said. \"Of course, she\nwon't do up here in the mountains.\"\n\nLike any true Westerner of the mountain-desert, Jack Townsend would far\nrather have been discovered with his hand in the pocket of another man\nthan be observed registering surprise. He looked carefully ahead until\nhis face was straight again. Then he turned.\n\n\"Where d'you make out her place to be?\" he asked carelessly.\n\n\"Down below,\" said the other without hesitation, and he waved his arm.\n\"Down in soft, sandy irrigation country she'd be a fine animal.\"\n\nJack Townsend blinked. \"You know her?\" he asked.\n\nThe other shook his head.\n\n\"Well, damn my soul!\" breathed the hotel proprietor. \"This beats me.\nMaybe you read a hoss's mind, partner?\"\n\nConnor shrugged his shoulders, but Townsend no longer took offense at\nthe taciturnity of his companion; he spoke now in a lower confiding\nvoice which indicated an admission of equality.\n\n\"You're right. They said she was good, and she was good! I seen her run;\nI saddled her up and rode her thirty miles through sand that would of\nbroke the heart of anything but a Steeldust, and she come through\nwithout battin' an eye. But when I got her up here she didn't do no\ngood. But\"--he reverted suddenly to his original surprise--\"how'd you\nknow her? Recognize the brand, maybe?\"\n\n\"By her trot,\" said the other, and he looked across the hills.\n\nThey had turned an angle of the gulch, and on a shelf of level ground,\ndishing out from the side of the mountain, stretched the town.\n\n\"Isn't it rather odd,\" said Connor, \"for people to build a town over\nhere when they could have it on the railroad?\"\n\n\"Maybe it looks queer to some,\" nodded Townsend.\n\nHe closed his lips firmly, determined to imitate the terseness of his\nguest; but when he observed with a side-glance that Connor would not\npress the inquiry, talk suddenly overflowed. Indeed, Townsend was a\nrunning well of good nature, continually washing all bad temper over the\nbrim.\n\n\"I'll show you how it was,\" he went on. \"You see that shoulder of the\nmountain away off up there? If the light was clearer you'd be able to\nmake out some old shacks up there, half standin' up and half fallin'\ndown. That's where Lukin used to be. Well, the railroad come along and\nsays: 'We're goin' to run a spur into the valley, here. You move down\nand build your town at the end of the track and we'll give you a hand\nbringing up new timber for the houses.' That's the way with railroads;\nthey want to dictate; they're too used to handlin' folks back East\nthat'll let capital walk right over their backs.\"\n\nHere Townsend sent a glance at Connor to see if he stirred under the\nspur, but there was no sign of irritation.\n\n\"Out here we're different; nobody can't step in here and run us unless\nhe's asked. See? We said, you build the railroad halfway and we'll come\nthe other half, but we won't come clear down into the valley.\"\n\n\"Why?\" asked Connor. \"Isn't Lukin Junction a good place for a village?\"\n\n\"Fine. None better. But it's the principle of the thing, you see? Them\nrailroad magnates says to us: 'Come all the way.' 'Go to the devil,'\nsays we. And so we come halfway to the new railroad and built our town;\nit'd be a pile more agreeable to have Lukin over where the railroad\nends--look at the way I have to drive back and forth for my trade? But\njust the same, we showed that railroad that it couldn't talk us down.\"\n\nHe struck his horses savagely with the lines; they sprang from the\njog-trot into a canter, and the buckboard went bumping down the main\nstreet of Lukin.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWO_\n\n\nBen Connor sat in his room overlooking the crossing of the streets. It\nwas by no means the ramshackle huddle of lean-to's that he had expected,\nfor Lukin was built to withstand a siege of January snows and\nstorm-winds which were scooped by the mountains into a funnel that\nfocused straight on the village. Besides, Lukin was no accidental,\ncrossroads town, but the bank, store, and amusement center of a big\ncountry. The timber was being swept from the Black Mountain; there were\nfairly prosperous mines in the vicinity; and cattlemen were ranging\ntheir cows over the plateaus more and more during the spring and summer.\nTherefore, Lukin boasted two parallel main streets, and a cross street,\nlooking forward to the day when it should be incorporated and have a\nmayor of its own. At present it had a moving-picture house and a dance\nhall where a hundred and fifty couples could take the floor at once;\nabove all, it had Jack Townsend's hotel. This was a stout, timber\nbuilding of two stories, the lower portion of which was occupied by the\nrestaurant, the drug store, the former saloon now transformed into an\nice-cream parlor, and other public places.\n\nIt was dark, but the night winds had not yet commenced, and Lukin\nsweltered with a heat more unbearable than full noon.\n\nIt was nothing to Ben Connor, however, for he was fresh from the choking\nsummer nights of Manhattan, and in Lukin, no matter how hot it became,\nthe eye could always find a cool prospect. It had been unpleasant\nenough when the light was burning, for the room was done in a hot,\norange-colored paper, but when he blew out the lamp and sat down before\nthe window he forgot the room and let his glance go out among the\nmountains. A young moon drifted across the corner of his window, a\nsickle of light with a dim, phosphorescent line around the rest of the\ncircle. It was bright enough to throw the peaks into strong relief, and\ndull enough to let the stars live.\n\nHis upward vision had as a rule been limited by the higher stories of\nsome skyscraper, and now his eye wandered with a pleasant sense of\nfreedom over the snow summits where he could imagine a cold wind blowing\nthrough reach after reach of the blue-gray sky. It pleased and troubled\nBen Connor very much as one is pleased and troubled by the first study\nof a foreign language, with new prospects opening, strange turns of\nthought, and great unknown names like stars. But after a time Ben Connor\nrelaxed. The first cool puff moved across his forehead and carried him\nhalfway to a dreamless sleep.\n\nHere a chorus of mirth burst up at him from the street, men's voices\npitched high and wild, the almost hysterical laughter of people who are\nmuch alone. In Manhattan only drunken men laughed like this. Among the\nmountains it did not irritate Ben Connor; in tune with the rest, it was\nfull of freedom. He looked down to the street, and seeing half a dozen\nbearded fellows frolic in the shaft of light from a window, he decided\nthat people kept their youth longer in Lukin.\n\nAll things seemed in order to Connor, this night. He rolled his sleeves\nhigher to let all the air that stirred get at his bulky forearms, and\nthen lighted a cigar. It was a dark, oily Havana--it had cost him a\ngreat deal in money and nerves to acquire that habit--and he breathed\nthe scent deep while he waited for the steady wind which Jack Townsend\nhad promised. There was just enough noise to give the silence that\nwaiting quality which cannot be described; below him voices murmured,\nand lifted now and then, rhythmically. Ben Connor thought the sounds\nstrangely musical, and he began to brim with the same good nature which\npuffed the cheeks of Jack Townsend. There was a substantial basis for\nthat content in the broiled trout which he had had for dinner. It was\nwhile his thoughts drifted back to those browned fish that the first\nwind struck him. Dust with an acrid scent whirled up from the\nstreet--then a steady stream of air swept his face and arms.\n\nIt was almost as if another personality had stepped into the room. The\nsounds from the street fell away, and there was the rustling of cloth\nsomewhere, the cool lifting of hair from his forehead, and an odd sense\nof motion--as if the wind were blowing through him. But something else\ncame with the breeze, and though he noted it at first with only a\nsubconscious discontent, it beat gradually into his mind, a light\nticking, very rapid, and faint, and sounding in an irregular rhythm. He\nwanted to straighten out that rhythm and make the flutter of tapping\nregular. Then it began to take on a meaning; it framed words.\n\n\"Philip Lord, jailed for embezzlement.\"\n\n\"Hell!\" burst out Ben Connor. \"The telegraph!\"\n\nHe started up from his chair, feeling betrayed, for that light,\nirregular tapping was the voice of the world from which he had fled. A\nhard, cool mind worked behind the gray eyes of Ben Connor, but as he\nfingered the cigar his brain was fumbling at a large idea. Forty-Second\nand Broadway was calling him back.\n\nWhen he looked out the window, now, the mountains were flat shapes\nagainst a flat sky, with no more meaning than a picture.\n\nThe sounder was chattering: \"Kid Lane wins title in eighth round. Lucky\npunch dethrones lightweight champion.\" Ben Connor swallowed hard and\nfound that his throat was dry. He was afraid of himself--afraid that he\nwould go back. He was recalled from his ugly musing by the odor of the\ncigar, which had burned out and was filling the room with a rank smell;\nhe tossed the crumbled remnants through the window, crushed his hat upon\nhis head, and went down, collarless, coatless, to get on the street in\nthe sound of men's voices. If he had been in Manhattan he would have\ncalled up a pal; they would have planned an evening together; but in\nLukin--\n\nAt the door below he glared up and down the street. There was nothing to\nsee but a light buggy which rolled noiselessly through the dust. A dog\ndetached itself from behind the vehicle and came to bark furiously at\nhis feet. The kicking muscles in Connor's leg began to twitch, but a\nvoice shouted and the mongrel trotted away, growling a challenge over\nits shoulder. The silence fell once more. He turned and strode back to\nthe desk of the hotel, behind which Jack Townsend sat tilted back in his\nchair reading a newspaper.\n\n\"What's doing in this town of yours to-night?\" he asked.\n\nThe proprietor moistened a fat thumb to turn the page and looked over\nhis glasses at Connor.\n\n\"Appears to me there ain't much stirrin' about,\" he said. \"Except for\nthe movies down the street. You see, everybody's there.\"\n\n\"Movies,\" muttered Connor under his breath, and looked savagely around\nhim.\n\nWhat his eyes fell on was a picture of an old, old man on the wall, and\nthe rusted stove which stood in the center of the room with a pipe\nzigzagging uncertainly toward the ceiling. Everything was out of order,\nbroken down--like himself.\n\n\"Looks to me like you're kind of off your feet,\" said Jack Townsend, and\nhe laid down his paper and looked wistfully at his guest. He made up his\nmind. \"If you're kind of dry for a drink,\" he said, \"I might rustle you\na flask of red-eye--\"\n\n\"Whisky?\" echoed Connor, and moistened his lips. Then he shook his head.\n\"Not that.\"\n\nHe went back to the door with steps so long and heavy that Jack Townsend\nrose from his chair, and spreading his hands on the desk, peered after\nthe muscular figure.\n\n\"That gent is a bad hombre,\" pronounced Jack to himself. He sat down\nagain with a sigh, and added: \"Maybe.\"\n\nAt the door Connor was snarling: \"Quiet? Sure; like a grave!\"\n\nThe wind freshened, fell away, and the light, swift ticking sounded\nagain more clearly. It mingled with the alkali scent of the\ndust--Manhattan and the desert together. He felt a sense of persecuted\nvirtue. But one of his maxims was: \"If anything bothers you, go and find\nout about it.\"\n\nBen Connor largely used maxims and epigrams; he met crises by\nremembering what some one else had said. The ticking of the sounder was\nmaking him homesick and dangerously nervous, so he went to find the\ntelegrapher and see the sounder which brought the voice of the world\ninto Lukin.\n\nA few steps carried him to a screen door through which he looked upon a\nlong, narrow office.\n\nIn a corner, an electric fan swung back and forth through a hurried arc\nand fluttered papers here and there. Its whining almost drowned the\nticking of the sounder, and Ben Connor wondered with dull irritation how\na tapping which was hardly audible at the door of the office could carry\nto his room in the hotel. He opened the door and entered.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER THREE_\n\n\nIt was a room not more than eight feet wide, very long, with the floor,\nwalls, and ceiling of the same narrow, unpainted pine boards; the\nflooring was worn ragged and the ceiling warped into waves. Across the\nroom a wide plank with a trapdoor at one end served as a counter, and\nnow it was littered with yellow telegraph blanks, and others, crumpled\nup, were scattered about Connor's feet. No sooner had the screen door\nsqueaked behind him and shut him fairly into the place than the staccato\nrattling of the sounder multiplied, and seemed to chatter from the wall\nbehind him. It left an echoing in the ear of Ben Connor which formed\ninto the words of his resolution, \"I've made my stake and I'm going to\nbeat it. I'm going to get away where I can forget the worries. To-day I\nbeat 'em. Tomorrow the worries will beat me.\"\n\nThat was why he was in Lukin--to forget. And here the world had sneaked\nup on him and whispered in his ear. Was it fair?\n\nIt was a woman who \"jerked lightning\" for Lukin. With that small finger\non the key she took the pulse of the world.\n\n\"Belmont returns--\" chattered the sounder.\n\nConnor instinctively covered his ears. Then, feeling that he was acting\nlike a silly child, he lowered his hands.\n\nAnother idea had come to him that this was fate--luck--his luck. Why not\ntake another chance?\n\nHe wavered a moment, fighting the temptation and gloomily studying the\nback of the operator. The cheapness of her white cotton dress fairly\nshouted at him. Also her hair straggled somewhat about the nape of her\nneck. All this irritated Connor absurdly.\n\n\"Fifth race,\" said the sounder: \"Lady Beck, first; Conqueror, second--\"\n\nCertainly this was fate tempting tune.\n\nConnor snatched a telegraph blank and scribbled a message to Harry\nSlocum, his betting commissioner during this unhappy vacation.\n\n\"Send dope on Murray handicaps time--trials of Trickster and Caledonian.\nHotel Townsend.\"\n\nThis done, having tapped sharply on the counter to call the operator's\nattention, he dropped his elbows on the plank and scowled downward in\nprofound reverie. They were pouring out of Belmont Park, now, many a\ngrim face and many a joyous face. Money had come easy and gone easy. Ah,\nthe reckless bonhomie of that crowd, living for to-day only, because\n\"to-morrow the ponies may have it!\" A good day for the bookies if that\nold cripple, Lady Beck, had found her running legs. What a trimming they\nmust have given the wise ones!\n\nAt this point another hand came into the circle of his vision and turned\nthe telegram about. A pencil flicked across the words, checking them\nswiftly. Connor was fascinated by that hand, it was so cool, so slender\nand deft. He glanced up to her face and saw a resolute chin, a smiling\nmouth which was truly lovely, and direct eyes as dark as his own. She\ncarried her head buoyantly, in a way that made Connor think, with a\ntingle, of some clean-blooded filly at the post.\n\nThe girl made his change, and shoving it across, she bent her head\ntoward the sounder. The characters came through too swiftly for even Ben\nConnor's sharp ear, but the girl, listening, smiled slowly.\n\n\"Something about soft pine?\" queried Connor.\n\nShe brightened at this unexpected meeting-point. Her eyes widened as she\nstudied him and listened to the message at the same time, and she\naccomplished this double purpose with such calm that Connor felt a\ntrifle abashed. Then the shadow of listening vanished, and she\nconcentrated on Connor.\n\n\"Soft pine is up,\" she nodded. \"I knew it would climb as soon as old\nLucas bought in.\"\n\n\"Speculator in Lukin, is he?\"\n\n\"No. California. The one whose yacht burned at Honolulu last year. Sold\npine like wild fire two months ago; down goes the price. Then he bought\na little while ago, and now the pine skyrockets. He can buy a new yacht\nwith what he makes, I suppose!\"\n\nThe shade of listening darkened her eyes again. \"Listen!\" She raised a\nhushing forefinger that seemed tremulous in rhythm with the ticking.\n\n\"Wide brims are in again,\" exclaimed the operator, \"and wide hats are\nawful on me; isn't that the luck?\"\n\nShe went back to her key with the message in her hand, and Connor,\ndropping his elbows on the counter, watched her send it with swift\nalmost imperceptible flections of her wrist.\n\nThen she sat again with her hands folded in her lap, listening. Connor\nturned his head and glanced through the door; by squinting he could look\nover the roof just across the street and see the shadowy mountains\nbeyond; then he looked back again and watched the girl listening to the\nvoice of the outer world. The shock of the contrast soothed. He began to\nforget about Ben Connor and think of her.\n\nThe girl turned in her chair and directly faced him, and he saw that she\nmoved her whole body just as she moved her hand, swiftly, but without a\njerk; she considered him gravely.\n\n\"Lonely?\" she inquired. \"Or worried?\"\n\nShe spoke with such a commonplace intonation that one might have thought\nit her business to attend to loneliness and worries.\n\n\"As a matter of fact,\" answered Ben Connor, instinctively dodging the\ndirect query, \"I've been wondering how they happened to stick a\nnumber-one artist on this wire.\n\n\"I'm not kidding,\" he explained hastily. \"You see, I used to jerk\nlightning myself.\"\n\nFor the first time she really smiled, and he discovered what a rare\nthing a smile may be. Up to that point he had thought she lacked\nsomething, just as the white dress lacked a touch of color.\n\n\"Oh,\" she nodded. \"Been off the wire long?\"\n\nBen Connor grinned. It began with his lips; last of all the dull gray\neyes lighted.\n\n\"Ever since a hot day in July at Aqueduct. The Lorrimer Handicap on the\n11th of July, to be exact. I tossed up my job the next day.\"\n\n\"I see,\" she said, becoming aware of him again. \"You played Tip-Top\nSecond.\"\n\n\"The deuce! Were you at Aqueduct that day?\"\n\n\"I was here--on the wire.\" He restrained himself with an effort, for a\nseries of questions was Connor's idea of a dull conversation. He merely\nrubbed his knuckles against his chin and looked at her wistfully.\n\n\"He nipped King Charles and Miss Lazy at the wire and squeezed home by a\nnose--paid a fat price, I remember,\" went on the girl. \"I suppose you\nhad something down on him?\"\n\n\"Did a friend of yours play that race?\"\n\n\"Oh, no; but I was new to the wire, then, and I used to cut in and\nlisten to everything that came by.\"\n\n\"I know. It's like having some one whisper secrets in your ear, at\nfirst, isn't it? But you remember the Lorrimer, eh? That was a race!\"\n\nThe sounder stopped chattering, and by an alternation in her eyes he\nknew that up to that moment she had been giving two-thirds of her\nattention to the voice of the wire and the other fraction to him; but\nnow she centered upon him, and he wanted to talk. As if, mysteriously,\nhe could share some of the burden of his unrest with the girl. Most of\nall he wished to talk because this office had lifted him back to the old\ndays of \"lightning jerking,\" when he worked for a weekly pay-check. The\nsame nervous eagerness which had been his in that time was now in this\ngirl, and he responded to it like a call of blood to blood.\n\n\"A couple of wise ones took me out to Aqueduct that day: I had all that\nwas coming to me for a month in my pocket, and I kept saying to myself:\n'They think I'll fall for this game and drop my wad; here's where I fool\n'em!'\"\n\nHe chuckled as he remembered.\n\n\"Go on,\" said the girl. \"You make me feel as if I were about to make a\nclean-up!\"\n\n\"Really interested?\"\n\nShe fixed an eager glance on him, as though she were judging how far she\nmight let herself go. Suddenly she leaned closer to Connor.\n\n\"Interested? I've been taking the world off the wire for six years--and\nyou've been where things happen.\"\n\n\"That's the way I felt at Aqueduct when I saw the ponies parade past the\ngrand stand the first time,\" he nodded. \"They came dancing on the bitt,\nand even I could see that they weren't made for use; legs that never\npulled a wagon, and backs that couldn't weight. Just toys; speed\nmachines; all heart and fire and springy muscles. It made my pulse jump\nto the fever point to watch them light-foot it along the rail with the\ngroom in front on a clod of a horse. I felt that I'd lived the way that\nhorse walked--downheaded, and I decided to change.\"\n\nHe stopped short and locked his stubby fingers together, frowning at her\nso that the lines beside his mouth deepened.\n\n\"I seem to be telling you the story of my life,\" he said. Then he saw\nthat she was studying him, not with idle curiosity, but rather as one\nturns the pages of an absorbing book, never knowing what the next moment\nwill reveal or where the characters will be taken.\n\n\"You want to talk; I want to hear you,\" she said gravely. \"Go ahead.\nBesides--I don't chatter afterward. They paraded past the grand stand,\nthen what?\"\n\nBen Connor sighed.\n\n\"I watched four races. The wise guys with me were betting ten bucks on\nevery race and losing on red-hot tips; and every time I picked out the\nhorse that looked good to me, that horse ran in the money. Then they\ncame out for the Lorrimer. One of my friends was betting on King Charles\nand the other on Miss Lazy. Both of them couldn't win, and the chance\nwas that neither of them would. So I looked over the line as it went by\nthe stand. King Charles was a little chestnut, one of those long fellows\nthat stretch like rubber when they commence running; Miss Lazy was a\ngangling bay. Yes, they were both good horses, but I looked over the\nrest, and pretty soon I saw a rangy chestnut with a white foreleg and a\nmidget of a boy up in the saddle. 'No. 7--Tip-Top Second,' said the wise\nguy on my right when I asked him; 'a lame one.' Come to look at him\nagain, he was doing a catch step with his front feet, but I had an idea\nthat when he got going he'd forget all about that catch and run like the\nwind. Understand?\"\n\n\"Just a hunch,\" said the girl. \"Yes!\"\n\nShe stepped closer to the counter and leaned across it. Her eyes were\nbright. Connor knew that she was seeing that picture of the hot day, the\ncrowd of straw hats stirring wildly, the murmur and cry that went up as\nthe string of racers jogged past.\n\n\"They went to the post,\" said Connor, \"and I got down my bet--a hundred\ndollars, my whole wad--on Tip-Top Second. The bookie looked just once at\nme, and I'll never forget how his eyebrows went together. I went back to\nmy seat.\"\n\n\"You were shaking all over, I guess,\" suggested the girl, and her hands\nwere quivering.\n\n\"I was not,\" said Ben Connor, \"I was cold through and through, and never\nmoved my eyes off Tip-Top Second. His jockey had a green jacket with two\nstripes through it, and the green was easy to watch. I saw the crowd go\noff, and I saw Tip-Top left flat-footed at the post.\"\n\nThe girl drew a breath. Connor smiled at her. The hot evening had\nflushed his face, but now a small spot of white appeared in either\ncheek, and his dull eyes had grown expressionless. She knew what he\nmeant when he said that he was cold when he saw the string go to the\npost.\n\n\"It--it must have made you sick!\" said the girl.\n\n\"Not a bit. I knew the green jacket was going to finish ahead of the\nrest as well as I knew that my name was Ben Connor. I said he was left\nat the post. Well, it wasn't exactly that, but when the bunch came\nstreaking out of the shoot, he was half a dozen lengths behind. It was a\nmile and an eighth race. They went down the back stretch, eight horses\nall bunched together, and the green jacket drifting that half dozen\nlengths to the rear. The wise guys turned and grinned at me; then they\nforgot all about me and began to yell for King Charles and Miss Lazy.\n\n\"The bunch were going around the turn and the two favorites were\nfighting it out together. But I had an eye for the green jacket, and\nhalfway around the turn I saw him move up.\"\n\nThe girl sighed.\n\n\"No,\" Connor continues, \"he hadn't won the race yet. And he never should\nhave won it at all, but King Charles was carrying a hundred and\nthirty-eight pounds, and Miss Lazy a hundred and thirty-three, while\nTip-Top Second came in as a fly-weight eighty-seven pounds! No horse in\nthe world could give that much to him when he was right, but who guessed\nthat then?\n\n\"They swung around the turn and hit the stretch. Tip-Top took the curve\nlike a cart horse. Then the bunch straightened out, with King Charles\nand Miss Lazy fighting each other in front and the rest streaking out\nbehind like the tail of a flag. They did that first mile in 1.38, but\nthey broke their hearts doing it, with that weight up.\n\n\"They had an eighth to go--one little measly furlong, with Tip-Top in\nthe ruck, and the crowd screaming for King Charles and Miss Lazy; but\njust exactly at the mile post the leaders flattened. I didn't know it,\nbut the man in front of me dropped his glasses and his head. 'Blown!' he\nsaid, and that was all. It seemed to me that the two in front were\nrunning as strongly as ever, but Tip-Top was running better. He came\nstreaking, with the boy flattening out along his neck and the whip going\nup and down. But I didn't stir. I couldn't; my blood was turned to ice\nwater.\n\n\"Tip-Top walked by the ruck and got his nose on the hip of King Charles.\nSomebody was yelling behind me in a squeaky voice: 'There is something\nwrong! There's something wrong!' There was, too, and it was the\neighty-seven pounds that a fool handicapper had put on Tip-Top. At the\nsixteenth Miss Lazy threw up her head like a swimmer going down and\ndropped back, and Tip-Top was on the King's shoulder. Fifty yards to the\nfinish; twenty-five--then the King staggered as if he'd been hit between\nthe ears, and Tip-Top jumped out to win by a neck.\n\n\"There was one big breath of silence in the grand stand--then a groan. I\nturned my head and saw the two wise guys looking at me with sick grins.\nAfterward I collected two thousand bucks from a sicker looking bookie.\"\n\nHe paused and smiled at the girl.\n\n\"That was the 11th of July. First real day of my life.\"\n\nShe gathered her mind out of that scene.\n\n\"You stepped out of a telegraph office, with your finger on the key all\nday, every day, and you jumped into two thousand dollars?\"\n\nAfter she had stopped speaking her thoughts went on, written in her\neyes.\n\n\"You'd like to try it, eh?\" said Ben Connor.\n\n\"Haven't you had years of happiness out of it?\"\n\nHe looked at her with a grimace.\n\n\"Happiness?\" he echoed. \"Happiness?\"\n\nShe stepped back so that she put his deeply-marked face in a better\nlight.\n\n\"You're a queer one for a winner.\"\n\n\"Sure, the turf is crowded with queer ones like me.\"\n\n\"Winners, all of 'em?\"\n\nHis eye had been gradually brightening while he talked to her. He felt\nthat the girl rang true, as men ring true, yet there was nothing\nmasculine about her.\n\n\"You've heard racing called the sport of kings? That's because only\nkings can afford to follow the ponies. Kings and Wall Street. But a\nfellow can't squeeze in without capital. I've made a go of it for a\nwhile; pretty soon we all go smash. Sooner or later I'll do what\neverybody else does--put up my cash on a sure thing and see my money go\nup in smoke.\"\n\n\"Then why don't you pull out with what you have?\"\n\n\"Why does the earth keep running around the sun? Because there's a pull.\nOnce you've followed the ponies you'll keep on following 'em. No hope\nfor it. Oh, I've seen the boys come up one after another, make their\nkillings, hit a streak of bad luck, plunge, and then watch their\nsure-thing throw up its tail in the stretch and fade into the ruck.\"\n\nHe was growing excited as he talked; he was beginning to realize that he\nmust make his break from the turf now or never. And he spoke more to\nhimself than to the girl.\n\n\"We all hang on. We play the game till it breaks us and still we stay\nwith it. Here I am, two thousand miles away from the tracks--and sending\nfor dope to make a play! Can you beat that? Well, so-long.\"\n\nHe turned away gloomily.\n\n\"Good night, Mr. Connor.\"\n\nHe turned sharply.\n\n\"Where'd you get that name?\" he asked with a trace of suspicion.\n\n\"Off the telegram.\"\n\nHe nodded, but said: \"I've an idea I've been chattering to much.\"\n\n\"My name is Ruth Manning,\" answered the girl. \"I don't think you've said\ntoo much.\"\n\nHe kept his eyes steadily on her while he shook hands.\n\n\"I'm glad I know some one in Lukin,\" said Connor. \"Good night, again.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER FOUR_\n\n\nWhen Connor wakened the next morning, after his first impression of\nblinding light, he closed his eyes and waited for the sense of unhappy\ndoom which usually comes to men of tense nerves and active life after\nsleep; but, with slow and pleasant wonder, he realized that the old\nnumbness of brain and fever of pulse was gone. Then he looked up and\nlazily watched the shadow of the vine at his window move across the\nceiling, a dim-bordered shadow continually changing as the wind gathered\nthe leaves in solid masses and shook them out again. He pored upon this\nfor a time, and next he watched a spider spinning a web in the corner;\nshe worked in a draft which repeatedly lifted her from her place before\nshe had fastened her thread, and dropped her a foot or more into space.\nConnor sat up to admire the artisan's skill and courage. Compared to men\nand insects, the spider really worked over an abyss two hundred feet\ndeep, suspended by a silken thread. Connor slipped out of bed and stood\nbeneath the growing web while the main cross threads were being\nfastened. He had been there for some time when, turning away to rub the\nache out of the back of his neck, he again met the contrast between the\nman of this morning and the man of other days.\n\nThis time it was his image in the mirror, meeting him as he turned. That\ndeep wrinkle in the middle of the forehead was half erased. The lips\nwere neither compressed nor loose and shaking, and the eye was calm--it\nrested him to meet that glance in the mirror.\n\nA mood of idle content always brings one to the window: Connor looked\nout on the street. A horseman hopped past like a day shadow, the\nhoofbeats muffled by thick sand, and the wind, moving at an exactly\nequal pace, carried a mist of dust just behind the horse's tail.\nOtherwise there was neither life nor color in the street of\nweather-beaten, low buildings, and the eye of Connor went beyond the\nroofs and began to climb the mountains. Here was a bald bright cliff,\nthere a drift of trees, and again a surface of raw clay from which the\nupper soil had recently slipped; but these were not stopping\npoints--they were rather the steps which led the glance to a sky of pale\nand transparent blue, and Connor felt a great desire to have that sky\nover him in place of a ceiling.\n\nHe splashed through a hasty bath, dressed, and ran down the stairs,\nhumming. Jack Townsend stood on a box in the corner of the room, probing\nat a spider web in the corner.\n\n\"Too late for breakfast?\" asked Connor.\n\nThe fat shoulders of the proprietor quivered, but he did not turn.\n\n\"Too late,\" he snapped. \"Breakfast over at nine. No favorites up here.\"\n\nConnor waited for the wave of irritation to rise in him, but to his own\nsurprise he found himself saying:\n\n\"All right; you can't throw a good horse off his feed by cutting out one\nmeal.\"\n\nJack Townsend faced his guest, rubbing his many-folded chin.\n\n\"Don't take long for this mountain air to brace up a gent, does it?\" he\nasked rather pointedly.\n\n\"I'll tell you what,\" said Connor. \"It isn't the air so much; it's the\npeople that do a fellow good.\"\n\n\"Well,\" admitted the proprietor modestly, \"they may be something in\nthat. Kind of heartier out here, ain't they? More than in the city, I\nguess. I'll tell you what,\" he added. \"I'll go out and speak to the\nmissus about a snack for you. It's late, but we like to be obligin'.\"\n\nHe climbed carefully down from the box and started away.\n\n\"That girl again,\" thought Connor, and snapped his fingers. His spirits\ncontinued to rise, if that were possible, during the breakfast of ham\nand eggs, and coffee of a taste so metallic that only a copious use of\ncream made it drinkable. Jack Townsend, recovering to the full his\ncustomary good nature, joined his guest in a huge piece of toast with a\nlayer of ham on it--simply to keep a stranger from eating alone, he\nsaid--and while he ate he talked about the race. Connor had noticed that\nthe lobby was almost empty.\n\n\"They're over lookin' at the hosses,\" said Townsend, \"and gettin' their\nbets down.\"\n\nConnor laid down knife and fork, and resumed them hastily, but\nthereafter his interest in his food was entirely perfunctory. From the\ncorner of his eye a gleam kept steadily upon the face of Townsend, who\ncontinued:\n\n\"Speaking personal, Mr. Connor, I'd like to have you look over them\nhosses yourself.\"\n\nConnor, on the verge of speech, checked himself with a quick effort.\n\n\"Because,\" continued Townsend, \"if I had your advice I might get down a\nlittle stake on one of 'em. You see?\"\n\nBen Connor paused with a morsel of ham halfway toward his lips.\n\n\"Who told you I know anything about horses?\" he asked.\n\n\"You told me yourself,\" grinned the proprietor, \"and I'd like to figure\nhow you knew the mare come from the Ballor Valley.\"\n\n\"From which?\"\n\n\"From the Ballor Valley. You even named the irrigation and sand and all\nthat. But you'd seen her brand before, I s'pose?\"\n\n\"Hoofs like hers never came out of these mountains,\" smiled Ben Connor.\n\"See the way she throws them and how flat they are.\"\n\n\"Well, that's true,\" nodded Jack Townsend. \"It seems simple, now you say\nwhat it was, but it had me beat up to now. That is the way with most\nthings. Take a fine hand with a rope. He daubs it on a cow so dead easy\nany fool thinks he can do the same. No, Mr. Connor, I'd still like to\nhave you come out and take a look at them hosses. Besides\"--he lowered\nhis voice--\"you might pick up a bit of loose change yourself. They's a\nplenty rolling round to-day.\"\n\nConnor laughed, but there was excitement behind his mirth.\n\n\"The fact is, Townsend,\" he said, \"I'm not interested in racing now. I'm\nup here for the air.\"\n\n\"Sure--sure,\" said the hotel man. \"I know all that. Well, if you're dead\nset it ain't hardly Christian to lure you into betting on a hoss race, I\nsuppose.\"\n\nHe munched at his sandwich in savage silence, while Connor looked out\nthe window and began to whistle.\n\n\"They race very often up here?\" he asked carelessly.\n\n\"Once in a while.\"\n\n\"A pleasant sport,\" sighed Connor.\n\n\"Ain't it, now?\" argued Townsend. \"But these gents around here take it\nso serious that it don't last long.\"\n\n\"That so?\"\n\n\"Yep. They bet every last dollar they can rake up, and about the second\nor third race in the year the money's all pooled in two or three\npockets. Then the rest go gunnin' for trouble, and most generally find a\nplenty. Any six races that's got up around here is good for three\nshooting scrapes, and each shooting's equal to one corpse and half a\ndozen put away for repairs.\" He touched his forehead, marked with a\nwhite line. \"I used to be considerable,\" he said.\n\n\"H-m,\" murmured Connor, grown absentminded again.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" went on the other. \"I've seen the boys come in from the\nmines with enough dust to choke a mule, and slap it all down on the\nhoss. I've seen twenty thousand cold bucks lost and won on a dinky\nlittle pinto that wasn't worth twenty dollars hardly. That's how crazy\nthey get.\"\n\nConnor wiped his forehead.\n\n\"Where do they race?\" he asked.\n\n\"Right down Washington Avenue. That is the main street, y'see. Gives 'em\nabout half a mile of runnin'.\"\n\nA cigarette appeared with magic speed between the fingers of Connor, and\nhe began to smoke, with deep inhalations, expelling his breath so\nstrongly that the mist shot almost to the ceiling before it flattened\ninto a leisurely spreading cloud. Townsend, fascinated, seemed to have\nforgotten all about the horse race, but there was in Connor a suggestion\nof new interest, a certain businesslike coldness.\n\n\"Suppose we step over and give the ponies a glance?\" he queried.\n\n\"That's the talk!\" exclaimed Townsend. \"And I'll take any tip you have!\"\n\nThis made Connor look at his host narrowly, but, dismissing a suspicion\nfrom his mind, he shrugged his shoulders, and they went out together.\n\nThe conclave of riders and the betting public had gathered at the\nfarther end of the street, and it included the majority of Lukin. Only\nthe center of the street was left religiously clear, and in this space\nhalf a dozen men led horses up and down with ostentatious indifference,\nstopping often to look after cinches which they had already tested many\ntimes. As Connor came up he saw a group of boys place their wagers with\na stakeholder--knives, watches, nickels and dimes. That was a fair token\nof the spirit of the crowd. Wherever Connor looked he saw hands raised,\nbrandishing greenbacks, and for every raised hand there were half a\ndozen clamorous voices.\n\n\"Quite a bit of sporting blood in Lukin, eh?\" suggested Townsend.\n\n\"Sure,\" sighed Connor. He looked at the brandished money. \"A field of\nwheat,\" he murmured, \"waiting for the reaper. That's me.\"\n\nHe turned to see his companion pull out a fat wallet.\n\n\"Which one?\" gasped Townsend. \"We ain't got hardly any time.\"\n\nConnor observed him with a smile that tucked up the corners of his\nmouth.\n\n\"Wait a while, friend. Plenty of time to get stung where the ponies are\nconcerned. We'll look them over.\"\n\nTownsend began to chatter in his ear: \"It's between Charlie Haig's roan\nand Cliff Jones's Lightning--You see that bay? Man, he can surely get\nacross the ground. But the roan ain't so bad. Oh, no!\"\n\n\"Sure they are.\"\n\nThe gambler frowned. \"I was about to say that there was only one horse\nin the race, but--\" He shook his head despairingly as he looked over the\nriders. He was hunting automatically for the fleshless face and angular\nbody of a jockey; among them all Charlie Haig came the closest to this\nlight ideal. He was a sun-dried fellow, but even Charlie must have\nweighed well over a hundred and forty pounds; the others made no\npretensions toward small poundage, and Cliff Jones must have scaled two\nhundred.\n\n\"Which was the one hoss in your eyes?\" asked the hotel man eagerly.\n\n\"The gray. But with that weight up the little fellow will be anchored.\"\n\nHe pointed to a gray gelding which nosed confidently at the back hip\npockets of his master.\n\n\"Less than fifteen hands,\" continued Connor, \"and a hundred and eighty\npounds to break his back. It isn't a race; it's murder to enter a horse\nhandicapped like that.\"\n\n\"The gray?\" repeated Jack Townsend, and he glanced from the corner of\nhis eyes at his companion, as though he suspected mockery. \"I never seen\nthe gray before,\" he went on. \"Looks sort of underfed, eh?\"\n\nConnor apparently did not hear. He had raised his head and his nostrils\ntrembled, so that Townsend did not know whether the queer fellow was\nabout to break into laughter or a trade.\n\n\"Yet,\" muttered Connor, \"he might carry it. God, what a horse!\"\n\nHe still looked at the gelding, and Townsend rubbed his eyes and stared\nto make sure that he had not overlooked some possibilities in the\ngelding. But he saw again only a lean-ribbed pony with a long neck and a\nhigh croup. The horse wheeled, stepping as clumsily as a gangling\nyearling. Townsend's amazement changed to suspicion and then to\nindifference.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, smiling covertly, \"are you going to bet on that?\"\n\nConnor made no answer. He stepped up to the owner of the gray, a swarthy\nman of Indian blood. His half sleepy, half sullen expression cleared\nwhen Connor shook hands and introduced himself as a lover of fast\nhorse-flesh.\n\nHe even congratulated the Indian on owning so fine a specimen, at which\napparently subtle mockery Townsend, in the rear, set his teeth to keep\nfrom smiling; and the big Indian also frowned, to see if there were any\nhidden insult. But Connor had stepped back and was looking at the\nforelegs of the gelding.\n\n\"There's bone for you,\" he said exultantly. \"More than eight inches,\neh--that Cannon?\"\n\n\"Huh,\" grunted the owner, \"I dunno.\"\n\nBut his last shred of suspicion disappeared as Connor, working his\nfingers along the shoulder muscles of the animal, smiled with pleasure\nand admiration.\n\n\"My name's Bert Sims,\" said the Indian, \"and I'm glad to know you. Most\nof the boys in Lukin think my hoss ain't got a chance in this race.\"\n\n\"I think they're right,\" answered Connor without hesitation.\n\nThe eyes of the Indian flashed.\n\n\"I think you're putting fifty pounds too much weight on him,\" explained\nConnor.\n\n\"Yeh?\"\n\n\"Can't another man ride your horse?\"\n\n\"Anybody can ride him.\"\n\n\"Then let that fellow yonder--that youngster--have the mount. I'll back\nthe gray to the bottom of my pocket if you do.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't feel hardly natural seeing another man on him,\" said the\nIndian. \"If he's rode I'll do the riding. I've done it for fifteen\nyears.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Fifteen years.\"\n\n\"Is that horse fifteen years old?\" asked Connor, prepared to smile.\n\n\"He is eighteen,\" answered Bert Sims quietly.\n\nThe gambler cast a quick glance at Sims and a longer one at the gray. He\nparted the lips of the horse, and then cursed softly.\n\n\"You're right,\" said Connor. \"He is eighteen.\"\n\nHe was frowning in deadly earnestness now.\n\n\"Accident, I suppose?\"\n\nThe Indian merely stared at him.\n\n\"Is the horse a strain of blood or an accident? What's his breed?\"\n\n\"He's an Eden gray.\"\n\n\"Are there more like him?\"\n\n\"The valley's full of 'em, they say,\" answered Bert Sims.\n\n\"What valley?\" snapped the gambler.\n\n\"I ain't been in it. If I was I wouldn't talk.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\nIn reply Sims rolled the yellow-stained whites of his eyes slowly toward\nhis interlocutor. He did not turn his head, but a smile gradually began\non his lips and spread to a sinister hint at mirth. It put a grim end to\nthe conversation, and Connor turned reluctantly to Townsend. The latter\nwas clamoring.\n\n\"They're getting ready for the start. Are you betting on that runt of a\ngray?\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER FIVE_\n\n\nConner shook his head almost sadly. \"A horse that stands not a hair more\nthan fourteen-three, eighteen years old, with a hundred and eighty\npounds up--No, I'm not a fool.\"\n\n\"Which is it--the roan or the bay?\" gasped Townsend. \"Which d'you say?\nI'll tell you about the valley after the race. Which hoss, Mr. Connor?\"\n\nThus appealed to, the gambler straightened and clasped his hands behind\nhis back. He looked coldly at the horses.\n\n\"How old is that brown yonder--the one the boy is just mounting?\"\n\n\"Three. But what's he got to do with the race?\"\n\n\"He's a shade too young, or he'd win it. That's what he has to do with\nit. Back Haig's horse, then. The roan is the best bet.\"\n\n\"Have you had a good look at Lightnin'?\"\n\n\"He won't last in this going with that weight up.\"\n\n\"You're right,\" panted Townsend. \"And I'm going to risk a hundred on\nhim. Hey, Joe, how d'you bet on Charlie Haig?\"\n\n\"Two to one.\"\n\n\"Take you for a hundred. Joe, meet Mr. Connor.\"\n\n\"A hundred it is, Jack. Can I do anything for you, Mr. Connor?\"\n\n\"I'll go a hundred on the roan, sir.\"\n\n\"Have I done it right?\" asked Townsend fiercely, a little later. \"I\nwonder do you know?\"\n\n\"Ask that after the race is over,\" smiled Connor. \"After all, you have\nonly one horse to be afraid of.\"\n\n\"Sure; Lightnin'--but he's enough.\"\n\n\"Not Lightning, I tell you. The gray is the only horse to be afraid of\nthough the brown stallion might do if he has enough seasoning.\"\n\nFor a moment panic brightened the eyes of Townsend, and then he shook\nthe fear away.\n\n\"I've done it now,\" he said huskily, \"and they's no use talking. Let's\nget down to the finish.\"\n\nThe crowd was streaming away from the start, and headed toward the\nfinish half a mile down the street beyond the farther end of Lukin. Most\nof this distance Townsend kept his companion close to a run; then he\nsuddenly appealed for a slower pace.\n\n\"It's my heart,\" he explained. \"Nothin' else bothers it, but during a\nhoss race it sure stands on end. I get to thinkin' of what my wife will\nsay if I lose; and that always plumb upsets me.\"\n\nHe was, in fact, spotted white and purple when they joined the mob which\npacked both sides of the street at the finish posts; already the choice\npositions were taken.\n\n\"We won't get a look,\" groaned Townsend.\n\nBut Connor chuckled: \"You tie on to me and we'll get to the front in a\nsqueeze.\" And he ejected himself into the mob. How it was done Townsend\ncould never understand. They oozed through the thickest of the crowd,\nand when roughly pressed men ahead of them turned around, ready to\nfight, Connor was always looking back, apparently forced along by the\npressure from the rear. He seemed, indeed, to be struggling to keep his\nfooting, but in a few minutes Townsend found himself in the front rank.\nHe mopped his brow and smiled up into the cool face of Connor, but there\nwas no time for comments. Eight horses fretted in a ragged line far down\nthe street, and as they frisked here and there the brims of the\nsombreros of the riders flapped up and down; only the Eden gray stood\nwith downward head, dreaming.\n\n\"No heart,\" said Townsend, \"in that gray hoss. Look at him!\"\n\n\"Plenty of head, though,\" replied Connor; \"here they go!\"\n\nHis voice was lost in a yell that went up wailing, shook into a roar,\nand then died off, as though a gust of wind had cut the sounds away. A\nmurmur of voices followed, and then an almost womanish yell, for\nLightning, the favorite, was out in front, and his rider leaned in the\nsaddle with arm suspended and a quirt which never fell. The rest were a\nclose group where whips worked ceaselessly, except that in the rear of\nall the rest the little gray horse ran without urge, smoothly, as if his\nrider had given up all hope of winning and merely allowed his horse to\ncanter through.\n\n\"D'you see?\" screamed Townsend. \"Is that what you know about hosses, Mr.\nConnor? Look at Cliff Jones's Lightning! What do you--\"\n\nHe cut his upbraidings short, for Connor's was a grisly face, white\nabout the mouth and with gathered brows, as though, with intense effort,\nhe strove to throw the influence of his will into that mass of\nhorse-flesh. The hotel-keeper turned in time to see Lightning, already\nbuckling under the strain, throw up his head.\n\nThe heavy burdens, the deep, soft going, and the fact that none of the\nhorses were really trained to sprint, made the half-mile course a very\nreal test, and now the big leader perceptibly weakened. Out of the pack\nshot a slender brown body, and came to the girth--to the neck of the\nbay.\n\n\"The stallion!\" shouted Townsend. \"By God, you do know hosses! Who'd of\nthought that skinny fellow had it in him?\"\n\n\"He'll die,\" said Connor calmly.\n\nThe bay and the brown went back into the pack together, even as Connor\nspoke, though the riders were flogging hard, and now the roan drew to\nthe front. It was plain to see that he had the foot of the rest, for he\ncame away from the crowd with every leap.\n\n\"Look! Look! Look!\" moaned Townsend. \"Two for one! Look!\" He choked with\npleasure and gripped Connor's arm in both his hands in token of\ngratitude.\n\nNow the race bore swiftly down the finish, the horses looming bigger;\ntheir eyes could be seen, and their straining nostrils now, and the\ndesperate face of each rider, trying to lift his horse into a great\nburst.\n\n\"He's got it,\" sobbed Townsend, hysterical. \"Nothin' can catch him now.\"\n\nBut his companion, in place of answer, stiffened and pointed. His voice\nwas a tone of horror, almost, as he said: \"I knew, by God, I knew all\nthe time and wouldn't believe my eyes.\"\n\nFor far from the left, rounding the pack, came a streak of gray. It\ncaught the brown horse and passed him in two leaps; it shot by the\nlaboring bay; and only the roan of Charlie Haig remained in front. That\nrider, confident of victory, had slipped his quirt over his wrist and\nwas hand-riding his horse when a brief, deep yell of dismay from the\ncrowd made him jerk a glance over his shoulder. He cut the quirt into\nthe flank of the roan, but it was too late. Five lengths from the finish\nthe little gray shoved his nose in front; and from that point, settling\ntoward the earth, as he stretched into a longer and longer stride, every\njump increased his margin. The nose of the roan was hardly on the rump\nof the gelding at the finish.\n\nA bedlam roar came from the crowd. Townsend was cursing and beating time\nto his oaths with a fat fist. Townsend found so many companion losers\nthat his feelings were readily salved, and he turned to Connor, smiling\nwryly.\n\n\"We can't win every day,\" he declared, \"but I'll tell you this, partner;\nof all the men I ever seen, you get the medal for judgin' a hoss. You\ncan pick my string any day.\"\n\n\"Eighteen years old,\" Connor was saying in the monotonous tone of one\nhypnotized.\n\n\"Hey, there,\" protested Townsend, perceiving that he was on the verge of\nbeing ignored.\n\n\"A hundred and eighty pounds,\" sighed the big man.\n\nTownsend saw for the first time that a stop-watch was in the hand of his\ncompanion, and now, as Connor began to pace off the distance, the hotel\nproprietor tagged behind, curious. Twenty steps from the starting point\nthe larger man stopped abruptly, shook his head, and then went on. When\nhe came to the start he paused again, and Townsend found him staring\nwith dull eyes at the face of the watch.\n\n\"What'd they make it in?\" asked the little man.\n\nThe other did not hear.\n\n\"They ran from this line?\" he queried in a husky voice.\n\n\"Sure. Line between them posts.\"\n\n\"Fifty-nine seconds!\" he kept repeating. \"Fifty-nine seconds!\nFifty-nine!\"\n\n\"What about the fifty-nine seconds?\" asked Townsend, and receiving no\nanswer he murmured to himself: \"The heat has got to his head.\"\n\nConnor asked quietly: \"Know anything about these gray horses and where\nthey came from?\"\n\n\"Sure. As much as anybody. Come from yonder in the mountains. A Negro\nraises 'em. A deaf mute. Ain't ever been heard to say a word.\"\n\n\"And he raises horses like that?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"And nobody's been up there to try to buy 'em?\"\n\n\"Too far to go, you see? Long ride and a hard trail. Besides, they's\nplenty of good hoss-flesh right around Lukin, here.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" nodded Connor genially. \"Of course there is.\"\n\n\"Besides, them grays is too small. Personally, I don't hanker after a\nrunt of a hoss. I look like a fool on one of em.\"\n\nThe voice of Connor was full of hearty agreement.\n\n\"So do I. Yes, they're small, if they're all like that one. Too small.\nMuch too small.\"\n\nHe looked narrowly at Townsend from the corner of his eyes to make sure\nthat the hotel proprietor suspected nothing.\n\n\"This deaf-mute sells some, now and then?\"\n\n\"Yep. He comes down once in a while and sells a hoss to the first gent\nhe meets--and then walks back to the garden. Always geldings that he\nsells, I understand. Stand up under work pretty well, those little\nhosses. Harry Macklin has got one. Harry lives at Fort Andrew. There's a\nfunny yarn out about how Harry--\"\n\n\"What price does the mute ask?\"\n\n\"Thinking of getting one of 'em?\"\n\n\"Me? Of course not! What do I want with a runt of a horse like that? But\nI was wondering what they pay around here for little horses.\"\n\n\"I dunno.\"\n\n\"What's that story you were going to tell me about Harry Macklin?\"\n\n\"You see, it was this way--\"\n\nAnd he poured forth the stale anecdote while they strolled back to the\nhotel. Connor smiled and nodded at appropriate places, but his absent\neyes were seeing, once more, the low-running form of the little gray\ngelding coming away from the rest of the pack.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER SIX_\n\n\nWhen he arrived at the hotel Ben Connor found the following telegram\nawaiting him:\n\n     Lady Fay in with ninety-eight Trickster did mile and furlong in\n     one fifty-four with one hundred twenty Caledonian stale mile in\n     one thirty-nine Billy Jones looks good track fast.\n\n     HARRY SLOCUM.\n\nThat message blotted all other thoughts from the mind of Connor. From\nhis traveling bag he brought out a portfolio full of wrinkled papers and\npamphlets crowded with lists of names and figures; there followed a time\nof close work. Page after page of calculations scribbled with a soft\npencil and in a large, sprawling hand, were torn from a pad, fluttered\nthrough the air and lay where they fell. When the hour was ended he\npushed away the pamphlets of \"dope\" and picked up his notes. After that\nhe sat in deep thought and drove puff after puff of cigarette-smoke at\nthe ceiling.\n\nAs his brown study progressed, he began crumpling the slips in his moist\nfingers until only two remained. These he balanced on his finger-tips as\nthough their weight might speak to his finely attuned nerves. At length,\none hand closed slowly over the paper it held and crushed it to a ball.\nHe flicked this away with his thumb and rose. On the remaining paper was\nwritten \"Trickster.\" Connor had made his choice.\n\nThat done, his expression softened as men relax after a day of mental\nstrain and he loitered down the stairs and into the street. Passing\nthrough the lobby he heard the voice of Jack Townsend raised obviously\nto attract his attention.\n\n\"There he goes now. And nothing but the weight kept him from bettin' on\nthe gray.\"\n\nConnor heard sounds, not words, for his mind was already far away in a\nclub house, waiting for the \"ponies\" to file past. On the way to the\ntelegraph office he saw neither street nor building nor face, until he\nhad written on one of the yellow blanks, \"A thousand on Trickster,\" and\naddressed it to Harry Slocum. Not until he shoved the telegram across\nthe counter did he see Ruth Manning.\n\nShe was half-turned from the key, but her head was canted toward the\nchattering sounder with a blank, inward look.\n\n\"Do you hear?\" she cried happily. \"Bjornsen is back!\"\n\n\"Who?\" asked Connor.\n\n\"Sveynrod Bjornsen. Lost three men out of eight, but he got within a\nhundred and fifty miles of the pole. Found new land, too.\"\n\n\"Lucky devil, eh?\"\n\nBut the girl frowned at him.\n\n\"Lucky, nothing! Bjornsen is a fighter; he lost his father and his older\nbrother up there three years ago and then he went back to make up for\ntheir deaths. Luck?\"\n\nConnor, wondering, nodded. \"Slipped my mind, that story of Bjornsen. Any\nother news?\"\n\nShe made a little gesture, palms up, as though she gathered something\nfrom the air.\n\n\"News? The old wire has been pouring it at me all morning. Henry\nLevateur went up thirty-two thousand feet yesterday and the Admiral Barr\nwas launched.\"\n\nConnor kept fairly abreast of the times, but now he was at sea.\n\n\"That's the new liner, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Thirty thousand tons of liner at that. She took the water like a duck.\nWell, that's the stuff for Uncle Sam to give them; a few more like the\nAdmiral Barr and we'll have the old colors in every port that calls\nitself a town. Europe will have to wake up.\"\n\nShe counted the telegram with a sweep of her pencil and flipped the\nchange to Connor out of the coin-box. The rattle of the sounder meant\nnew things to Connor; the edges of the world crowded close, for when the\nnoise stopped, in the thick silence he watched her features relax and\nthe light go out of her eyes. It enabled him to glance into her life in\nLukin, with only the chattering wire for a companion. A moment before\nshe had been radiant--now she was a tired girl with purple shadows\nbeneath her eyes making them look ghostly large.\n\n\"Oh, Bobby,\" she called. A tall youth came out of an inner room. \"Take\nthe key, please; I'm going out for lunch.\"\n\n\"Come to the hotel with me,\" suggested Connor.\n\n\"Lunch at Townsend's?\" She laughed with a touch of excitement. \"That's a\ntreat.\"\n\nAlready she gained color and her eyes brightened. She was like a motor,\nConnor decided, nothing in itself, but responding to every electric\ncurrent.\n\n\"This lunch is on me, by the way,\" she added.\n\n\"Why is that?\"\n\n\"Because I like to pay on my winning days. I cashed in on the Indian's\nhorse this morning.\"\n\nIn Connor's own parlance--it brought him up standing.\n\n\"_You_ bet on it? You know horse-flesh, then. I like the little fellow,\nbut the weight stopped me.\"\n\nHe smiled at her with a new friendliness.\n\n\"Don't pin any flowers on me,\" she answered. \"Oh, I know enough about\nhorses to look at their hocks and see how they stand; and I don't\nsuppose I'd buy in on a pony that points the toe of a fore-foot--but I'm\nno judge. I bet on the gray because I know the blood.\"\n\nShe had stopped at the door of the hotel and she did not see the change\nin Connor's face as they entered.\n\n\"Queer thing about horses,\" she continued. \"They show their strain,\nthough the finest man that ever stepped might have a son that's a\nquitter. Not that way with horses. Why, any scrubby pinto that has a\ndrop of Eden Gray blood in him will run till his heart breaks. You can\nbet on that.\"\n\nLunch at Townsend's, Connor saw, must be the fashionable thing in Lukin.\nThe \"masses\" of those who came to town for the day ate at the\nlunch-counters in the old saloons while the select went to the hotel.\nMrs. Townsend, billowing about the room in a dress of blue with white\npolka-dots, when she was not making hurried trips into the kitchen, cast\none glance of approval at Ben Connor and another of surprise at the\ngirl. Other glances followed, for the room was fairly well filled, and a\nwhisper went trailing about them, before and behind.\n\nIt was easy to see that Ruth Manning was being accused of \"scraping\"\nacquaintance with the stranger, but she bore up beautifully, and Connor\ngauging her with an accurate eye, admired and wondered where she had\nlearned. Yet when they found a table and he drew out a chair for her, he\ncould tell from the manner in which she lowered herself into it that she\nwas not used to being seated. That observation gave him a feeling of\npower over her.\n\n\"You liked the gray, too?\" she was saying, as he took his place.\n\n\"I lost a hundred betting against him,\" said the gambler quietly. \"I\nhope you made a killing.\"\n\nHe saw by the slight widening of her eyes that a hundred dollars was a\ngood deal of money to her; and she flushed as she answered:\n\n\"I got down a bet with Jud Alison; it was only five dollars, but I had\nodds of ten to one. Fifty dollars looks pretty big to me,\" she added,\nand he liked her frankness.\n\n\"But does everybody know about these grays?\"\n\n\"Not so many. They only come from one outfit, you see. Dad knew horses,\nand he told me an Eden Gray was worth any man's money. Poor Dad!\"\n\nConnor watched her eyes turn dark and dull, but he tossed sympathy aside\nand stepped forward in the business.\n\n\"I've been interested since I saw that little streak of gray shoot over\nthe finish. Eighteen years old. Did you know that?\"\n\n\"Really? Well, Dad said an Eden Gray was good to twenty-five.\"\n\n\"What else did he say?\"\n\n\"He didn't know a great deal about them, after all, but he said that now\nand then a deaf and dumb Negro comes. He's a regular giant. Whenever he\nmeets a man he gets off the horse and puts a paper into the hand of the\nother. On the paper it says: Fifty dollars in gold coin! Always that.\"\n\nIt was like a fairy tale to Connor.\n\n\"Jude Harper of Collinsville met him once. He had only ten dollars in\ngold, but he had three hundred in paper. He offered the whole three\nhundred and ten to the deaf-mute but he only shook his head.\"\n\n\"How often does he come out of the valley?\"\n\n\"Once a year--once in two years--nobody knows how often. Of course it\ndoesn't take him long to find a man who'll buy a horse like one of the\ngrays for fifty dollars. The minute the horse is sold he turns around\nand starts walking back. Pete Ricks tried to follow him. He turned back\non Pete, jumped on him from behind a rock, and jerked him off his horse.\nThen he got him by the hair and bent his head back. Pete says he\nexpected to have his neck broken--he was like a child in the arms of\nthat giant. But it seemed that the mute was only telling him in\ndeaf-and-dumb talk that he mustn't follow. After he'd frightened the\nlife out of Pete the big mute went away again, and Pete came home as\nfast as his horse could carry him.\"\n\nConnor swallowed. \"Where do they get the name Eden Gray?\"\n\n\"I don't know. Dad said that three things were true about every gray.\nIt's always a gelding; it's always one price, and it always has a flaw.\nI looked the one over that ran to-day and couldn't see anything wrong,\nthough.\"\n\n\"Cow-hocked,\" said Connor, breathing hard. \"Go on!\"\n\n\"Dad made up his mind that the reason they didn't sell more horses was\nbecause the owner only sold to weed out his stock.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" said Connor, tapping on the table to make his point. \"Do I\ngather that the only Eden Grays that are sold are the poorest of the\nlot?\"\n\n\"That was Dad's idea.\"\n\n\"Go on,\" said Connor.\n\n\"You're excited?\"\n\nBut he answered quickly: \"Well, one of those grays beat me out of a\nhundred dollars. I can't help being interested.\"\n\nHe detached his watch-charm from its catch and began to finger it\ncarelessly; it was the head of an ape carved in ivory yellowed with age.\n\nThe girl watched, fascinated, but she made no mention of it, for the jaw\nof the gambler was set in a hard line, and she felt, subconsciously, a\nwidening distance between them.\n\n\"Does the deaf-mute own the horses?\" he was asking.\n\n\"I suppose so.\"\n\n\"This sounds like a regular catechism, doesn't it?\"\n\n\"I don't mind. Come to think of it, everything about the grays is queer.\nWell, I've never seen this man, but do you know what I think? That he\nlives off there in the mountains by himself because he's a sort of\nreligious fanatic.\"\n\n\"Religion? Crazy, maybe.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\"\n\n\"What's his religion?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said the girl coldly. \"After you jerk lightning for a\nwhile, you aren't interested much in religion.\"\n\nHe nodded, not quite sure of her position, but now her face darkened and\nshe went on, gathering interest in the subject.\n\n\"Oh, I've heard 'em rave about the God that made the earth and the stars\nand all that stuff; the mountains, too. I've heard 'em die asking for\nmercy and praising God. That's the way Dad went. It was drink that got\nhim. But I'm for facts only. Far as I can see, when people come up\nagainst a thing they can't understand they just close their eyes and\nsay, God! And when they're due to die, sometimes they're afraid and they\nsay, God--because they think they're going out like a snuffed lantern\nand never will be lighted again.\"\n\nThe gambler sat with his chin buried in his palm, and from beneath a\nheavy frown he studied the girl.\n\n\"I don't hold malice more than the next one,\" said the girl, \"but I saw\nDad; and I've been sick of religion ever since. Besides, how do you\nexplain the rotten things that happen in the world? Look at yesterday!\nThe King of the Sea goes down with all on board. Were they all crooks?\nWere they all ready to die? They can tell me about God, but I say, 'Give\nme the proofs!'\"\n\nShe looked at Connor defiantly. \"There's just one thing I believe in,\"\nshe said, \"that's luck!\"\n\nHe did not stir, but still studied her, and she flushed under the\nscrutiny.\n\n\"Not that I've had enough luck to make me fond of it. I've been stuck up\nhere on the edge of the world all my life. And how I've wanted to get\naway! How I've wanted it! I've begged for a chance--to cut out the work.\nIf it doesn't make callouses on a girl's hands it will make them on her\nheart. I've been waiting all my life for a chance, and the chance has\nnever come.\" Something flared in her.\n\n\"Sometimes I think,\" she whispered, \"that I can't stand it! That I'd do\nanything! Anything--just to get away.\"\n\nShe stopped, and as her passion ebbed she was afraid she had said too\nmuch.\n\n\"Shake,\" he said, stretching his hand across the table, \"I'm with you.\nLuck! That's all there is running things!\"\n\nHis fingers closed hard over hers and she winced, for he had forgotten\nto remove the ivory image from his hand, and the ape-head cut into her\nflesh.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER SEVEN_\n\n\nThat evening Ruth sent a boy over to the hotel with a telegram for\nConnor. It announced that Trickster, at six to one, came home a winner\nin the Murray. But Connor had time for only a grunt and a nod; he was\ntoo busy composing a letter to Harry Slocum, which read as follows:\n\n     DEAR HARRY:\n\n     I'm about to put my head in the lion's mouth; and in case you\n     don't hear from me again, say within three months, this is to\n     ask you to look for my bones. I'm starting out to nail a\n     thousand-to-one shot. Working a hunch for the biggest clean-up\n     we ever made. I'm going into the mountains to find a deaf mute\n     Negro who raises the finest horses I've ever seen. Do you get\n     that? No white man has gone into that valley; at least, no one\n     has come out talking. But I'm going to bring something with me.\n     If I don't come out it'll be because I've been knocked on the\n     head inside the valley. I'm not telling any one around here\n     where I'm bound, but I've made inquiries, and this is what I\n     gather: No one is interested in the mute's valley simply\n     because it's so far away. The mute doesn't bother them and they\n     won't bother him. That's the main reason for letting him alone.\n     The other reasons are that he's suspected of being a bad actor.\n\n     But the distance is the chief thing that fences people away.\n     The straight cut is bad going. The better way around is a slow\n     journey. It leads west out of Lukin and down into the valley of\n     the Girard River; then along the Girard to its headwaters. Then\n     through the mountains again to the only entrance to the valley.\n     I'm telling you all this so that you'll know what you may have\n     ahead of you. If I'm mum for three months come straight for\n     Lukin; go to a telegraph operator named Ruth Manning, and tell\n     her that you've come to get track of me. She'll give you the\n     names of the best dozen men in Lukin, and you start for the\n     valley with the posse.\n\n     Around Lukin they have a sort of foggy fear of the valley, bad\n     medicine, they call it.\n\n     I have a hard game ahead of me and I'm going to stack the\n     cards. I've got to get into the Garden by a trick and get out\n     again the same way. I start this afternoon.\n\n     I've got a horse and a pack mule, and I'm going to try my hand\n     at camping out. If I come back it will be on something that\n     will carry both the pack and me, I think, and it won't take\n     long to make the trip. Our days of being rich for ten days and\n     poor for thirty will be over.\n\n     Hold yourself ready; sharp at the end of ninety days, come West\n     if I'm still silent.\n\n     As ever,\n\n     BEN.\n\nBefore the mail took that letter eastward, Ben Connor received his final\nadvice from Jack Townsend. It was under the hotel man's supervision that\nhe selected his outfit of soft felt hat, flannel shirts, heavy socks,\nand Napatan boots; Townsend, too, went with him to pick out the pack\nmule and all the elements of the pack, from salt to canned tomatoes.\n\nAs for the horse, Townsend merely stood by to admire while Ben Connor\nwent through a dozen possibilities and picked a solidly built chestnut\nwith legs enough for speed in a pinch, and a flexible fetlock--joints\nthat promised an easy gait.\n\n\"You won't have no trouble,\" said Townsend, as Connor sat the saddle,\nworking the stirrups back and forth and frowning at the creaking new\nleather. \"Wherever you go you'll find gents ready to give you a hand on\nyour way.\"\n\n\"Why's that? Don't I look like an old hand at this game?\"\n\n\"Not with that complexion; it talks city a mile off. If you'd tell me\nwhere you're bound for--\"\n\n\"But I'm not bound anywhere,\" answered Connor. \"I'm out to follow my\nnose.\"\n\n\"With that gun you ought to get some game.\"\n\nConnor laid his hand on the butt of the rifle which was slung in a case\nunder his leg. He had little experience with a gun, but he said\nnothing.\n\n\"All trim,\" continued Townsend, stepping back to look. \"Not a flaw in\nthe mule; no sign of ringbone or spavin, and when a mule ain't got them,\nhe's got nothin' wrong. Don't treat him too well. When you feel like\npattin' him, cuss him instead. It's mule nature to like a beatin' once\nin a while; they spoil without it, like kids. He'll hang back for two\ndays, but the third day he'll walk all over your hoss; never was a hoss\nthat could walk with a mule on a long trip. Well, Mr. Connor, I guess\nyou're all fixed, but I'd like to send a boy along to see you get\nstarted right.\"\n\n\"Don't worry,\" smiled Connor. \"I've written down all your suggestions.\"\n\n\"Here's what you want to tie on to special,\" said the fat man. \"Don't\nmove your camp on Fridays or the thirteenth; if you come nigh a town and\na black cat crosses your trail, you camp right there and don't move on\nto that town till the next morning. And wait a minute--if you start out\nand find you've left something in camp, make a cross in the trail before\nyou go back.\"\n\nHe frowned to collect his thoughts.\n\n\"Well, if you don't do none of them three things, you can't come out far\nwrong. S'long, and good luck, Mr. Connor.\"\n\nConnor waved his hand, touched the chestnut with his heel and the horse\nbroke into a trot, while the rope, coming taut, first stretched the neck\nof the mule and then tugged him into a dragging amble. In this manner\nConnor went out of Lukin. He smiled to himself, as he thought\nconfidently of the far different fashion in which he would return.\n\nThe first day gave Connor a raw nose, a sunburned neck and wrists, and\nhis supper was charred bacon and tasteless coffee; but the next morning\nhe came out of the choppy mountains and went down a long, easy slope\ninto the valley of the Girard. There was always water here, and fine\ngrass for the horse and mule, with a cool wind off the snows coming down\nthe ravine. By the third day he was broken into the routine of his work\nand knew the most vulnerable spot on the ribs of the mule, and had a pet\nname for the chestnut. Thereafter the camping trip was pleasant enough.\nIt took him longer than he had expected, for he would not press the\nhorse as the pitch of the ravine grew steeper; later he saw his wisdom\nin keeping the chestnut fresh for the final burst, for when he reached\nthe head-spring of the Girard, he faced a confusion of difficult, naked\nmountains. He was daunted but determined, and the next morning he filled\nhis canteens and struck into the last stage of his journey.\n\nLuck gave him cool weather, with high moving clouds, which curtained the\nsun during the middle of the day, but even then it was hard work. He had\nnot the vestige of a trail to follow; the mountain sides were bare rock.\nA scattering of shrubs and dwarfed trees found rooting in crevices, but\non the whole Connor was journeying through a sea of stone, and\nsometimes, when the sun glinted on smooth surface, the reflection\nblinded him. By noon the chestnut was hobbling, and before nightfall\neven the mule showed signs of distress. And though Connor traveled now\nby compass, he was haunted by a continual fear that he might have\nmistaken his way, or that the directions he had picked up at Lukin might\nbe entirely wrong. Evening was already coming over the mountains when he\nrounded a slope of black rock and found below him a picture that tallied\nin every detail with all he had heard of the valley.\n\nThe first look was like a glance into a deep well of stone with a flash\nof water in the bottom; afterward he sat on a boulder and arranged the\ndetails of that big vista. Nothing led up to the Garden from any\ndirection; it was a freak of nature. Some convulsion of the earth, when\nthese mountains were first rising, perhaps, had split the rocks, or as\nthe surface strata rolled up, they parted over the central lift and left\nthis ragged fissure. Through the valley ran a river, but water could\nnever have cut those saw-tooth cliffs; and Connor noted this strange\nthing: that the valley came to abrupt ends both north and south. By the\nslant sunlight, and at that distance--for he judged the place to be some\nten or fifteen miles in length--it seemed as if the cliff fronts to the\nnorth and south were as solid and lofty as a portion of the sides; yet\nthis could not be unless the river actually disappeared under the face\nof the wall. Still, he could not make out details from the distance,\nonly the main outline of the place, the sheen of growing things, whether\ntrees or grass, and the glitter of the river which swelled toward the\ncenter of the valley into a lake. He could discover only one natural\nentrance; in the nearest cliff wall appeared a deep, narrow cleft, which\nran to the very floor of the valley, and the only approach was through a\ndifficult ravine. The sore-footed chestnut had caught the flash of\ngreen, and now he pricked his ears and whinnied as if he saw home.\nConnor started down the rocks toward the entrance, leading the horse,\nwhile the mule trailed wearily behind. As he turned, the wind blew to\nhim out of the valley a faint rhythmical chiming. When he paused to\nlisten the sound disappeared.\n\nHe dipped out of the brighter level into a premature night below;\nevening was gathering quickly, and with each step Connor felt the misty\ndarkness closing above his head. He was stumbling over the boulders,\ndownheaded, hardly able to see the ground at his feet, yet when he\nreached the bottom of the little ravine which ran toward the entrance,\nhe looked up to a red sky, and the higher mountains rolled off in waves\nof light. Distances were magnified; he seemed to look from the bottom of\nthe world to the top of it; he turned, a little dizzy, and between the\nedges of the cleft that rose straight as Doric pillars, he saw a fire\nburning at the entrance to the Garden of Eden. The sunset was above\nthem, but the fire sent a long ray through the night of the lower\nvalley. Connor pointed it out to his horse, and the little cavalcade\nwent slowly forward.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER EIGHT_\n\n\nWith every step that he took into the darkness the feeling of awe\ndeepened upon Connor, until he went frowning toward the fire as though\nit were an eye that watched his coming. He was quite close when the\nchestnut threw up its head with a snort and stopped, listening; Connor\nlistened as well, and he heard a music of men's voices singing together,\nfaint with distance; the sound traveled so far that he caught the pulse\nof the rhythm and the fiber of the voices rather than the tune itself,\nyet the awe which had been growing in Connor gathered suddenly in his\nthroat. He had to close his hands hard to keep from being afraid.\n\nAs though the chestnut felt the strangeness also, he neighed suddenly;\nthe rock walls of the ravine caught up the sound and trumpeted it back.\nConnor, recovering from the shock, buried his fingers in the nostrils of\nthe horse and choked the sound away; but the echo still went faintly\nbefore them and behind. The alarm had been given. The fire winked once\nand went out. Connor was left without a light to guide him; he looked up\nand saw that the sunset flush had fallen away to a dead gray.\n\nHe looked ahead to where the fire had been. Just then the horse jerked\nhis nose away and gasped in a new breath. Even that slight sound\nflurried Connor, for it might guide the unknown danger to him. Connor\nremembered that after all he was not a bandit stealing upon a peaceful\ntown; he composed his mind and his nerves with an effort, and was about\nto step forward again when he saw in the night just before him a deeper\nshade among the shadows. Peering, he discovered the dim outlines of a\nman.\n\nBen Connor was not a coward, but he was daunted by this apparition. His\nfirst impulse was to flee; his second was to leap at the other's throat.\nIt spoke much for his steadiness in a crisis that he did neither, but\ncalled instead: \"Who's there?\"\n\nMetal gritted on metal, and a shaft of light poured into Connor's face\nso unexpectedly that he shrank. The chestnut reared, and turning to\ncontrol the horse, Connor saw his eyes and the eyes of the mule shining\nlike phosphorus. When he had quieted the gelding he saw that it was a\nhooded lantern which had been uncovered. Not a ray fell on the bearer of\nthe light.\n\n\"I saw a light down here,\" said Connor, after he had tried in vain to\nmake out the features of the other. \"It looked like a fire, and I\nstarted for it; I've lost my bearing in these mountains.\"\n\nWithout answering, the bearer of the lantern kept the shaft staring into\nConnor's face for another moment; then it was as suddenly hooded and\nwelcome darkness covered the gambler. With a gesture which he barely\ncould make out, the silent man waved him forward down the ravine. It\nangered Connor, this mummery of speechlessness, but with his anger was\nan odd feeling of helplessness as though the other had a loaded gun at\nhis head.\n\nThe man walked behind him as they went forward, and presently the fire\nshone out at them from the entrance to the valley; thus Connor saw the\nblanket which had screened the fire removed, and caught a glimpse of a\nsecond form.\n\nEven the zenith was dark now, and it was double night in the ravine.\nWith the chestnut stumbling behind him, Connor entered the circle of the\nfire and was stopped by the raised hand of the second man.\n\n\"Why are you here?\" said the guard.\n\nThe voice was thin, but the articulation thick and soft, and as the\nquestioner stepped into the full glow of the fire, Connor saw a Negro\nwhose head was covered by white curls. He was very old; it seemed as\nthough time had faded his black pigment, and now his skin, a dark\nbronze, was puckered at the corners of his mouth, about his eyes, and in\nthe center of his forehead, seeming to have dried in wrinkles like\nparchment. While he talked his expression never varied from the weary\nfrown; yet years had not bowed him, for he stood straight as a youth,\nand though his neck was dried away until it was no thicker than a strong\nman's forearm, he kept his head high and looked at Connor.\n\nThe man who had gone out to stop Connor now answered for him, and\nturning to the voice the gambler saw that this fellow was a Negro\nlikewise; as erect as the one by the fire, but hardly less ancient.\n\n\"He is lost in the mountains, and he saw the fire at the gate, Ephraim.\"\n\nEphraim considered Connor wistfully.\n\n\"This way is closed,\" he said; \"you cannot pass through the gate.\"\n\nThe gambler looked up; a wall of rock on either side rose so high that\nthe firelight failed to carry all the distance, and the darkness arched\nsolidly above him. The calm dignity of the men stripped him of an\nadvantage which he felt should be his, but he determined to appear at\nease.\n\n\"Your best way,\" continued Ephraim, \"is toward that largest mountain.\nYou see where its top is still lighted in the west, while the rest of\nthe range is black.\n\n\"Jacob can take you up from the ravine and show you the beginning of the\nway. But do not pass beyond the sight of the fire, Jacob.\"\n\n\"Good advice,\" nodded Connor, forcing himself to smile, \"if it weren't\nthat my horse is too sore-footed to carry me. Even the mule can hardly\nwalk--you see.\"\n\nHe waved his hand and the chestnut threw up its head and took one or two\nhalting steps to the side.\n\n\"In the meantime, I suppose you've no objection if I sit down here for a\nmoment or two?\"\n\nEphraim, bowing as though he ushered the other into an apartment of\nstate, waved to a smooth-topped boulder comfortably near the fire.\n\n\"I wish to serve you,\" he went on, \"in anything I can do without leaving\nthe valley. We have a tank just inside the gate, and Jacob will fill\nyour canteen and water the horse and mule as well.\"\n\n\"Kind of you,\" said Connor. \"Cigarette?\"\n\nThe proffered smoke brought a wrinkling of amazed delight into the face\nof Ephraim and his withered hand stretched tentatively forth. Jacob\nforestalled him with a cry and snatched the cigarette from the open palm\nof Connor. He held it in both his cupped hands.\n\n\"Tobacco--again!\" He turned to Ephraim. \"I have not forgotten!\"\n\nEphraim had folded his arms with dignity, and now he turned a reproving\nglance upon his companion.\n\n\"Is it permitted?\" he asked coldly.\n\nThe joy went out of the face of Jacob.\n\n\"What harm?\"\n\n\"Is it permitted?\" insisted Ephraim.\n\n\"He will not ask,\" argued Jacob dubiously.\n\n\"He knows without asking.\"\n\nAt this, very slowly and unwillingly, Jacob put the cigarette back into\nthe hand of Ben Connor. A dozen curious questions came into the mind of\nthe gambler, but he decided wisely to change the subject.\n\n\"The boss gives you orders not to leave, eh?\" he went on. \"Not a step\noutside the gate? What's the idea?\"\n\n\"This thing was true in the time of the old masters. Only Joseph can\nleave the valley,\" Ephraim answered.\n\n\"And you don't know why no one is allowed inside the valley?\"\n\n\"I have never asked,\" said Ephraim.\n\nConnor smoked fiercely, peering into the fire.\n\n\"Well,\" he said at length, \"you see my troubles? I can't get into the\nvalley to rest up. I have to turn around and try to cross those\nmountains.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" nodded Ephraim.\n\n\"But the horse and mule will never make it over the rocks. I'll have to\nleave them behind or stay and starve with them.\"\n\n\"That is true.\"\n\n\"Rather than do that,\" said Connor, fencing for an opening, \"I'd leave\nthe poor devils here to live in the valley.\"\n\n\"That cannot be. No animals are allowed to enter.\"\n\n\"What? You'd allow this pair to die at the gate of the valley?\"\n\n\"No; I should lead them first into the mountains.\"\n\n\"This is incredible! But I tell you, this horse is my friend--I can't\ndesert him!\"\n\nHe fumbled in his coat pocket and then stretched out his hand toward the\nchestnut; the horse hobbled a few steps nearer and nosed the palm of it\nexpectantly.\n\n\"So!\" muttered Ephraim, and shaded his eyes with his hand to look. He\nsettled back and said in a different voice: \"The horse loves you; it is\nsaid.\"\n\n\"I put the matter squarely up to you,\" said Connor. \"You see how I\nstand. Give me your advice!\"\n\nEphraim protested. \"No, no! I cannot advise you. I know nothing of what\ngoes on out yonder. Nevertheless--\"\n\nHe broke off, for Connor was lighting another cigarette from the butt of\nthe first one, and Ephraim paused to watch, nodding with a sort of\nvicarious pleasure as he saw Connor inhale deeply and then blow out a\nthin drift of smoke.\n\n\"You were about to say something else when I lighted this.\"\n\n\"Yes, I was about to say that I could not advise you, but I can send to\nJoseph. He is near us now.\"\n\n\"By all means send to Joseph.\"\n\n\"Jacob,\" ordered the keeper of the gate, \"go to Joseph and tell him what\nhas happened.\"\n\nThe other nodded, and then whistled a long note that drifted up the\nravine. Afterward there was no answer, but Jacob remained facing\nexpectantly toward the inside of the valley and presently Connor heard a\nsound that made his heart leap, the rhythmic hoofbeats of a galloping\nhorse; and even in the darkness the long interval between impacts told\nhim something of the animal's gait. Then into the circle of the\nfirelight broke a gray horse with his tail high, his mane fluttering. He\nbrought his gallop to a mincing trot and came straight toward Jacob, but\na yard away he stopped and leaped catlike to one side; with head tossed\nhigh he stared at Connor.\n\nCold sweat stood on the forehead of the gambler, for it was like\nsomething he had seen, something he remembered; all his dreams of what a\nhorse should be, come true.\n\nEphraim was saying sternly:\n\n\"In my household the colts are taught better manners, Jacob.\"\n\nAnd Jacob answered, greatly perturbed: \"There is a wild spirit in all\nthe sons of Harith.\"\n\n\"It is Cassim, is it not?\" asked Ephraim.\n\n\"Peace, fool!\" said Jacob to the stallion, and the horse came and stood\nbehind him, still watching the stranger over the shoulder of his master.\n\n\"Years dim your eyes, Ephraim,\" he continued. \"This is not Cassim and he\nis not the height of Cassim by an inch. No, it is Abra, the son of Hira,\nwho was the daughter of Harith.\"\n\nHe smiled complacently upon Ephraim, nodding his ancient head, and\nEphraim frowned.\n\n\"It is true that my eyes are not as young as yours, Jacob; but the\nhorses of my household are taught to stand when they are spoken to and\nnot dance like foolish children.\"\n\nThis last reproof was called forth by the continual weaving back and\nforth of the stallion as he looked at Connor, first from one side of\nJacob and then from the other. The old man now turned with a raised\nhand.\n\n\"Stand!\" he ordered.\n\nThe stallion jerked up his head and became rigid.\n\n\"A sharp temper makes a horse without heart,\" said the oracular Ephraim.\n\nJacob scowled, and rolling his eyes angrily, searched for a reply; but\nhe found none. Ephraim clasped one knee tightly in both hands, and\nweaving his head a little from side to side, delighted in his triumph.\n\n\"And the hand which is raised,\" went on the tormentor, \"should always\nfall.\"\n\nHe was apparently quoting from an authority against which there was no\nappeal; now he concluded:\n\n\"Threats are for children, and yearlings; but a grown horse is above\nthem.\"\n\n\"The spirit of Harith has returned in Abra,\" said Jacob gloomily. \"From\nthat month of April when he was foaled he has been a trial and a burden;\nyes, if even a cloud blows over the moon he comes to my window and calls\nme. There was never such a horse since Harith. However, he shall make\namends. Abra!\"\n\nThe stallion stepped nearer and halted, alert.\n\n\"Go to him, fool. Go to the stranger and give him your head. Quick!\"\n\nThe gray horse turned, hesitated, and then came straight to Connor, very\nslowly; there he bowed his head and dropped his muzzle on the knee of\nthe white man, but all the while his eyes flared at the strange face in\nterror. Jacob turned a proud smile upon Ephraim, and the latter nodded.\n\n\"It is a good colt,\" he admitted. \"His heart is right, and in time he\nmay grow to some worth.\"\n\nOnce more Connor fumbled in his pocket.\n\n\"Steady,\" he said, looking squarely into the great, bright eyes.\n\"Steady, boy.\"\n\nHe put his hand under the nose of the stallion.\n\n\"It's a new smell, but little different.\"\n\nAbra snorted softly, but though he shook he dared not move. The gambler,\nwith a side glance, saw the two men watching intently.\n\n\"Ah,\" said Connor, \"you have pulled against a headstall here, eh?\"\n\nHe touched an old scar on the cheek of the horse, and Abra closed his\neyes, but opened them again when he discovered that no harm was done to\nhim by the tips of those gentle fingers.\n\n\"You may let him have his head again,\" said Connor. \"He will not leave\nme now until he is ordered.\"\n\n\"So?\" exclaimed Jacob. \"We shall see! Enough Abra!\"\n\nThe gray tossed up his head at that word, but after he had taken one\nstep he returned and touched the back of the white man's hand, snuffed\nat his shoulder and at his hat and then stood with pricking ears. A soft\nexclamation came in unison from Jacob and Ephraim.\n\n\"I have never seen it before,\" muttered Jacob. \"To see it, one would say\nhe was a son of Julanda.\"\n\n\"It is my teaching and not the blood of Julanda that gives my horses\nmanners,\" corrected Ephraim. \"However, if I might look in the hand of\nthe stranger--\"\n\n\"There is nothing in it,\" answered Connor, smiling, and he held out both\nempty palms. \"All horses are like this with me.\"\n\n\"Is it true?\" they murmured together.\n\n\"Yes; I don't know why. But you were going to bring Joseph.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said Ephraim, shaking his head. \"I had almost forgotten. Hurry,\nJacob; but if you will take my advice in the matter you will teach your\ncolts fewer tricks and more sound sense.\"\n\nThe other grunted, and putting his hand on the withers of Abra, he\nleaped to the back with the lightness of a strong youth. A motion of his\nhand sent the gray into a gallop that shot them through the gate into\ndarkness.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER NINE_\n\n\nThat faint and rhythmic chiming which Connor had heard from the mountain\nwhen he first saw the valley now came again through the gate, more\nclearly. There was something familiar about the sound--yet Connor could\nnot place it.\n\n\"Did you mark?\" said Ephraim, shaking his head. \"Did you see the colt\nshy at the white rock as he ran? In my household that could never\nhappen; and yet Jacob does well enough, for the blood of Harith is as\nstubborn as old oak and wild as a wolf. But your gift, sir\"--and here he\nturned with much respect toward Connor--\"is a great one. I have never\nseen Harith's sons come to a man as Abra came to you.\"\n\nHe was surprised to see the stranger staring toward the gate as if he\nwatched a ghost.\n\n\"He did not gallop,\" said Connor presently, and his voice faltered. \"He\nflowed. He poured himself through the air.\"\n\nHe swept a hand across his forehead and with great effort calmed the\nmuscles of his face.\n\n\"Are there more horses like that in the valley?\"\n\nEphraim hesitated, for there was such a glittering hunger in the eyes of\nthis stranger that it abashed him. Vanity, however, brushed scruple\naway.\n\n\"More like Abra in the valley? So!\"\n\nHe seemed to hunt for superlatives with which to overwhelm his\nquestioner.\n\n\"The worst in my household is Tabari, the daughter of Numan, and she was\nfoaled lame in the left foreleg. But if ten like Abra were placed in\none corral and Tabari in the other, a wise man would give the ten and\ntake the one and render thanks that such good fortune had come his way.\"\n\n\"Is it possible?\" exclaimed Connor in that same, small, choked voice.\n\n\"I speak calmly,\" said Ephraim gravely. He added with some hesitation:\n\"But if I must tell the whole truth, I shall admit that my household is\nnot like the household of the blood of Rustir. Just as she was the queen\nof horses, so those of her blood are above other horses as the master is\nabove me. Yet, if ten like Tabari were placed in one corral and the\nstallion Glani were placed in another, I suppose that a wise man would\ngive the ten for the one.\"\n\nHe added with a sigh: \"But I should not have such wisdom.\"\n\nConnor smiled.\n\n\"And at that rate it would require a hundred like Abra to buy Glani?\" he\nasked.\n\n\"A thousand,\" said the old man instantly, \"and then the full price would\nnot be paid. I have already asked the master to cross him with Hira. He\nwill answer me soon; one touch of Glani's blood will lift the strain in\nmy household. My colts are good mettle--but the fire, the soul of\nGlani!\"\n\nHe bowed his head.\n\n\"Ah, they are coming, Jacob and Joseph.\"\n\nHis keen ear heard a sound which was not audible to Connor for several\nmoments; then two gray horses swept into the circle of the firelight,\nand from the mare which led Abra by several yards, a huge Negro\ndismounted.\n\n\"If you are Joseph,\" the gambler said, \"I suppose Jacob has already told\nyou about me. My name is Connor. I've been hunting up the Girard River,\nstruck across the mountains yonder, and here I've brought up with a lame\nmule and a lamer horse. The point is that I want to rest up in your\nvalley until my animals can go on. Is it possible?\"\n\nWhile he spoke the giant watched him with eyes which squinted in their\nintensity, but when he ended Joseph answered not a word. Connor\nremembered now what he had heard of the deaf mute who alone went back\nand forth from the Garden of Eden, and his heart fell. It was talking to\na face of stone.\n\nIn the meantime Joseph continued to examine the stranger. From head to\nfoot the little, bright eyes moved, leisurely, and Connor grew hot as he\nendured it. When the survey was completed to his own satisfaction,\nJoseph went first to the mule and next to the horse, lifting their feet\none by one, then running his hands over their legs. After this he turned\nto Jacob and his great fingers glided through the characters of the\nlanguage of the mute, bunching, knotting, darting out in a fluid\nswiftness.\n\n\"Joseph says,\" translated Ephraim, \"that your horse is lame, but that he\ncan climb the hills if you go on foot; the mule is not lame at all, but\nis pretending, because he is tired.\"\n\nAn oath rose up in the throat of Connor, but he checked it against his\nteeth and smiled at Joseph. The big man hissed through his teeth and his\nmare sprang to his side. She was not more than fourteen two, and\nslenderly made compared with Abra, yet she had borne the great bulk of\nJoseph with ease before, and now she was apparently ready to carry him\nagain. He dropped his hand upon her withers, and facing Connor, swept\nhis arm out in a broad gesture of dismissal. Vaguely the gambler noticed\nthis, but his real interest centered on the form of the mare. He was\nseeing her not with that unwieldy bulk crushing her back, but with a\nfly-weight jockey mounted on a racing pad riding her past the grand\nstand. He was hearing the odds which the bookies offered; he was\nwatching those odds drop by leaps and bounds as he hammered away at\nthem, betting in lumps of hundreds and five hundreds, staking his\nfortune on his first \"sure thing.\" Even as she stood passive, tossing\nher nose, he knew her speed, and it took his breath. Abra himself would\nwalk away from ordinary company, but this gray mare--slowly Connor\nlooked back to the face of Joseph and saw that the giant was waiting to\nsee his command obeyed. For the first time he noted the cartridge belt\nstrung across the fellow's gaunt middle and the holster in which pulled\nthe weight of a forty-five. In case of doubt, here was a cogent reason\nto hurry a loiterer. To persuade the giant would never have been easy,\nbut to persuade him through an interpreter made the affair impossible.\nStruggling for a loophole of escape, he absentmindedly unsnapped from\nhis watch chain the little ivory talisman, the ape head, and commenced\nto finger it. It had been his constant companion for years and in a\nmeasure he connected his luck with it.\n\n\"My friend,\" said Connor to Ephraim, \"you see my position? But if I\ncan't do better is there any objection to my using this fire of yours\nfor cooking? The fire, at least, is outside the valley.\"\n\nEven this question Ephraim apparently did not feel qualified to answer.\nHe turned first to the gigantic mute and conversed with him at some\nlength; his own fluent signals were answered by single movements on the\npart of Joseph, and Connor recognized the signs of dissent.\n\n\"I have told him everything,\" said Ephraim, turning again to Connor and\nshaking his head in sympathy. \"And how Abra came to you, but though the\nhorse trusted you, Joseph does not wish you to stay. I am sorry.\"\n\nConnor looked through the gate into the darkness of the Garden of Eden;\nat the entrance to his promised land he was to be turned back. In his\ndespair he opened his palm and looked down absently at the little\ngrinning ape head of ivory. Even while he was deep in thought he felt\nthe silence which settled over the three men, and when he looked up he\nsaw the glittering eyes of Joseph fixed upon the trinket. That instant\nnew hope came to Connor; he closed his hand over the ape head, and\nturning to Ephraim he said:\n\n\"Very well. If there's nothing else for me to do, I'll take the chance\nof getting through the mountains with my lame nags.\"\n\nAs he spoke he threw the reins over the neck of the chestnut; but before\nhe could put his foot in the stirrup Joseph was beside him and touched\nhis shoulder.\n\n\"Wait!\" said he, and the gambler paused with astonishment. The mask of\nthe mute which he had hitherto kept on his face now fell from it.\n\n\"Let me see,\" the giant was saying, and held out his hand for the ivory\nimage.\n\nThe pulse of Connor doubled its beat--but with his fingers still closed\nhe said:\n\n\"The ivory head is an old companion of mine and has brought me a great\ndeal of luck.\"\n\nThe torchlight changed in the eyes of Joseph as the sun glints and\nglimmers on watered silk.\n\n\"I would not hurt it,\" he said, and made a gingerly motion to show how\nlight and deft his fingers could be.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Connor, \"but I rarely let it out of my hand.\"\n\nHe stepped closer to the firelight and exposed the little carving again.\nIt was a curious bit of work, with every detail nicely executed;\npinpoint emeralds were inset for eyes, the lips grinned back from tiny\nfangs of gold, and the swelling neck suggested the powerful ape body of\nthe model. In the firelight the teeth and eyes flashed.\n\nJoseph grinned in sympathy. Ephraim and Jacob also had drawn close, and\nthe white man saw in the three faces one expression: they had become\nchildren before a master, and when Connor placed the trinket in the\ngreat paw of Joseph the other two flashed at him glances of envy. As for\nthe big man, he was transformed.\n\n\"Speak truth,\" he said suddenly. \"Why do you wish to enter the Garden?\"\n\n\"I've already told you, I think,\" said Connor. \"It's to rest up until\nthe horse and mule are well again.\"\n\nThe glance of the huge man, which had hitherto wandered from the trinket\nto Connor's face, now steadied brightly upon the latter.\n\n\"There must be another reason.\"\n\nConnor felt himself pressed to the wall.\n\n\"Look at the thing you have in your hand, Joseph. You are asking\nyourself: 'What is it? Who made it? See how the firelight glitters on\nit--perhaps there is life in it!'\"\n\n\"Ah!\" sighed the three in one breath.\n\n\"Perhaps there is power in it. I have used it well and it has brought me\na great deal of good luck. But you would like to know all those things,\nJoseph. Now look at the gate to the Garden!\"\n\nHe waved to the lofty and dark cleft before them.\n\n\"It is like a face to me. People live behind it. Who are they? Who is\nthe master? What does he do? What is his power? That is another reason\nwhy I wish to go in; and why should you fear me? I am alone; I am\nunarmed.\"\n\nIt seemed that Joseph learned more from Connor's expression than from\nhis words.\n\n\"The law is the will of David.\"\n\nThe Garden became to Connor as the forbidden room to Bluebeard's wife;\nit tempted him as a high cliff tempts the climber toward a fall. He\nmustered a calm air and voice.\n\n\"That is a matter I can arrange with your master. He may have laws to\nkeep out thieves, but certainly he has nothing against honest men.\"\n\nJoseph shrugged his big shoulders, but Ephraim answered: \"The will of\nDavid never changes. I am no longer young, but since I have been old\nenough to remember, I have never seen a man either come into the valley\nor leave it except Joseph.\"\n\nThe solemnity of the old man staggered Connor. He felt his resolution to\nenter at any cost waver, and then Abra, the young stallion, came to his\nside and looked in his face.\n\nIt was the decisive touch. The life which the devotee would risk for his\nGod, or the patriot for his country, the gambler was willing to venture\nfor the sake of a \"sure thing.\"\n\n\"Let us exchange gifts,\" said Connor; \"I give you the ivory head. It may\nbring you good luck. You give me the right to enter the valley and I\naccept any good or evil that comes to me.\"\n\nThe huge fingers of Joseph curled softly over the image.\n\n\"Beware of the law!\" cried Ephraim. \"And the hand of the master!\"\n\nThe giant shrank, but he looked at Ephraim with sullen defiance.\n\n\"Come,\" he said to Connor. \"This is on your own head.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TEN_\n\n\n\"It is a long ride to the house of David,\" said Jacob. \"Your horse is\nfootsore; take Abra.\"\n\nBut Ephraim broke in: \"If you care for speed and wise feet beneath you,\nTabari herself is there.\"\n\nHe whistled as Jacob had done before, but with another grace-note at the\nend.\n\n\"Those of my household answer when they are called,\" continued the old\nman proudly. \"Listen!\"\n\nA soft whinny out of the darkness, and Tabari galloped into the\nfirelight, and stopped at the side of her master motionless.\n\n\"Choose,\" said Ephraim.\n\nHe smiled at Jacob, who in return was darkly silent.\n\nThe mare tugged at the heartstrings of Connor, but he answered, slipping\ncarefully into the formal language which apparently was approved most in\nthe valley.\n\n\"She is worthy of a king, but Abra was offered to me first. But will he\ncarry a saddle?\"\n\n\"He will carry anything but a whip,\" said Jacob, casting a glance of\ntriumph at Ephraim. \"You will see!\" He was already busy at the knot\nunder the flap of Connor's saddle, and presently he slipped the saddle\nfrom the back of the chestnut. \"Come!\" he called.\n\nAbra came, but he came like a fighter into the ring, dancing, ready for\ntrouble.\n\n\"Fool!\" shouted Jacob, stamping. \"Fool, and grandson of a fool, stand!\"\n\nThe ears of Abra flicked back along his neck and he trembled as the\nsaddle was swung over him. Under its impact he crouched and shuddered,\nbut the outbreak of bucking for which Connor waited did not come. The\njerk on the cinch brought a snort from him, but that was all.\n\n\"We may not put iron in his mouth,\" said Jacob, as Connor came up with\nthe bridle, \"but a touch on this will turn him or stop him, as you\nwish.\"\n\nAs he spoke he picked up a small rope, which he knotted around the neck\nof Abra close to the ears, and handed the end to Connor.\n\n\"Look!\" he said to the horse, pointing to Connor. \"This is your master\nto-night. Bear him as you would bear me, Abra, without leaping or\nstumbling, smoothly, as son of Khalissa should do. And hark,\" he added\nin the ear of the young stallion; \"if the mare of Joseph outruns you,\nyou are no horse of my household, but a mongrel, a bloodless knave.\"\n\nJoseph was already trotting through the gate and growing dim beyond, so\nConnor put his foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. He landed\nas upon springs, all the lithe body of the stallion giving under the\nshock; and Connor felt a quivering power beneath him like the vibration\nof a racing motor. Abra's eyes glinted as he threw his head high to take\nstock of the new master.\n\n\"Go,\" commanded Jacob; \"and remember your speed, for the honor of him\nwho trained you!\"\n\nThe last words were whipped away from the ear of Connor and trailed into\na murmur behind him, for without a preliminary step Abra sprang from a\nstand into a full gallop. That forward lurch swayed Connor far back; he\nlost touch with his stirrups, but, clinging desperately with his knees,\nhe was presently able to right himself. There was hard gravel beneath\nthem, but the gait was as soft as if Abra ran in deep sand without\nlabor; there was no more wrench and shock than the ghost of a man\nriding a ghost of a horse.\n\nA column of black shot by on either hand; Connor was through the gate to\nthe Garden of Eden and rushing down the slope beyond. He knew this\ndimly, but chiefly he was aware only of the whipping of the wind.\nSomething Ephraim had said came into his memory: \"If there were ten like\nAbra in one corral, and one like Tabari in another, a wise man--\" But,\nno doubt, Ephraim had jested.\n\nFor, glancing up, he saw the tops of tall trees rushing past him against\nthe sky, and for the first time he knew the speed of that gallop. In his\nexultation he threw up his hand, and his shout rang before him and\nbehind. That taught him a lesson he would never forget when he sat the\nsaddle on an Eden Gray; for Abra lurched into a run with a suddenness\nthat swayed Connor against the cantle again.\n\nHe steadied himself quickly and called to Abra; the first word cut down\nthat racing gait to the long, free stride, but the brief rush had taken\nthe breath of the rider, and now he looked about him.\n\nHe had been in California years before, and now he recognized the\npeculiar, clean perfume of the trees which lined the road; they were the\neucalyptus, and they fenced the way with a gigantic hedge several rows\ndeep. It was a winding road that they followed, dipping over a rolling\nground and swinging leisurely from side to side to avoid high places, so\nthat the vista of the trees was continually in motion, twisting back and\nforth; or when he looked straight up he saw the slender tree-points\nbrushing past the stars. So he galloped into a long, straight stretch\nwith a pale gleam of water beyond it; and between he saw Joseph.\n\nIt was strange that in spite of the speed of Abra, Joseph's mare had not\nbeen overtaken; for no matter what quality the mare might have, she\ncarried in the gigantic Negro an impost of some two hundred and fifty\npounds. A suspicion of discourtesy on his part must have come to Joseph,\nfor now he brought his horse back to a canter that allowed Connor to\ncome close, so close indeed that he saw Joseph laughing in a horrible\nsoundless way and beckoning him on, very much as though he challenged\nAbra. Surely the fellow must know that no horse could concede such\nweight to Abra, but Connor waved his arm to signify that he accepted the\nchallenge, and called on Abra.\n\nThere followed the breathless lunge forward, the sinking of the body as\nthe stride lengthened, the whir of wind against his face; Connor sat the\nsaddle erect, smiling, and waited for Joseph to come back to him.\n\nBut Joseph did not come, and as the mare reached the river and her hoofs\nrang on the bridge Connor saw with unspeakable wonder that he had\nactually lost ground. Once more he called on Abra, and as they struck\nthe bridge in turn the young stallion was fully extended, while Connor\nswung forward in the saddle to throw more weight on the withers and take\nthe strain from the long back muscles. Leaning close to the neck of\nAbra, with the mane whipping his face, he squinted down the road at\nJoseph, and growled with savage satisfaction as he saw the mare drift\nback to him. If he could reach her with a sprint she was beaten, for she\nbore the extra burden. Once more he called on Abra, and heard a slight\ngrunt as the stallion gave the last burst of his strength; the hoofs of\nthe two roared on the hard road, and Joseph came back hand over hand.\nConnor, laughing exultantly, squinted into the wind.\n\n\"Good boy!\" he muttered. \"Good old Abra! If he had Salvator under him\nwe'd get him at this rate. We're on his hip--Now!\"\n\nHe was indeed in touch with the flying mare, and, looking through the\ndimness, he marveled at her long, free swing, the level drive of the\ncroup, and--he saw with astonishment--her pricking ears! Not as if she\nwere racing, but merely galloping. He flattened himself along the neck\nof Abra and called on him again, slapped his shoulder with the flat of\nhis hand, flicked him along the flank with the butt of the rope; but the\nmare held him invincibly; he could not gain the breadth of a hair, and\nby the pounding of Abra's forefeet he knew that the stallion was running\nhimself out. At that moment, to crown his bewilderment, Joseph turned,\nlaughing again in that soundless way. Only for a moment; then he turned,\nand, leaning over the withers of his mount, the mare lengthened, it\nseemed to Connor, and moved away.\n\nHer hips went past him, then her tail, flying out straight behind, a\nstreak of silver; and last of all, there was the hiss of derision from\nJoseph whistling back to him.\n\nConnor threw himself back into the saddle and brought the stallion down\nto a moderate pace. One hand was clutched at his throat, for it seemed\nto him that his heart was beating there. Before him raced a vision of\nBen Connor, king of the racetracks of the world, with horses no\nhandicapper could measure.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER ELEVEN_\n\n\nA Second thought made him lean a little, listening closely, and then he\ndiscovered that after this terrific trial Abra was breathing deep and\nfree. Connor sat straight again and smiled. They must be close to the\nlake he had seen from the mountain, for among the trees to his left was\na faint gleam of water. A moment later this glimmer went out, and the\nhoofbeats of Abra were muffled on turf. They had left the road and\nheaded for a scattering of lights. Joseph had drawn the mare back to a\nhand-gallop, and Abra followed the example; at this rocking gait they\nswept through the grove between two long, low buildings, always\nclimbing, and came suddenly upon a larger house. On three sides Connor\nlooked down upon water; the building was behind him. Not a light showed\nin it, but he made out the low, single story, the sense of weight, and\ncrude arches of the Mission style. Through an opening in the center of\nthe facade he looked into darkness which he knew must be the patio.\n\nFollowing the example of Joseph, he dismounted, and while the big man,\nwith his waddling, difficult walk, disappeared into the court, Connor\nstepped back and looked over Abra. Starlight was enough to see him by,\nfor he glimmered with running sweat even in the semidarkness, but it was\nplain from his high head and inquisitive muzzle that he was neither\nwinded nor down-hearted. He followed Connor like a dog when the gambler\nwent in turn to the mare. She turned about nervously to watch the\nnewcomer. Not until Abra had touched noses with her and perhaps spoken\nto her the dumb horse-talk would she allow Connor to come close, and\neven then he could not see her as clearly as the stallion. By running\nhis finger-tips over her he discovered the reason--only on the flanks\nand across the breast was she wet with perspiration, and barely moist on\nthe thighs and belly. The race had winded her no more than a six-furlong\ncanter.\n\nHe was still marveling at this discovery when Joseph appeared under the\narch carrying a lantern and beckoned him in, leading the way to a large\npatio, surrounded by a continuous arcade. In the center a fountain was\nalternately silver and shadow in the swinging lantern light. The floor\nof the patio was close-shaven turf.\n\nJoseph hung the lantern on the inside of one of the arches and turned to\nConnor, apparently to invite him to take one of the chairs under the\narcade. Instead, he raised his hand to impose silence. Connor heard,\nfrom some distance, a harsh sound of breathing of inconceivable\nstrength. For though it was plainly not close to them, he could mark\neach intake and expulsion of breath. And the noise created for him the\npicture of a monster.\n\n\"Let us go to the master,\" said Joseph, and turned straight across the\npatio in the direction of that sonorous breathing.\n\nConnor followed, by no means at ease. From the withered old men to huge\nJoseph had been a long step. How far would be the reach between Joseph\nhimself and the omnipotent master?\n\nHe passed in the track of Joseph toward the rear of the patio. Presently\nthe big man halted, removed his hat, and faced a door beneath the\narcade. It was only a momentary interruption. He went on again at once,\nreplacing his hat, but the thrill of apprehension was still tingling in\nthe blood of the gambler. Now they went under the arcade, through an\nopen door, and issued in the rear of the house, Connor's imaginary\n\"monster\" dissolved.\n\nFor they stood in front of a blacksmith shop, the side toward them being\nentirely open so that Connor could see the whole of the interior. Two\nsooty lanterns hung from the rafters, the light tangling among wreaths\nof smoke above and showing below a man whose back was turned toward them\nas he worked a great snoring bellows with one hand.\n\nThat bellows was the source of the mysterious breathing. Connor\nchuckled; all mysteries dissolved as this had done the moment one\nconfronted them. He left off chuckling to admire the ease with which the\nblacksmith handled the bellows. A massive angle of iron was buried in\nthe forge, the white flames spurting around it as the bellows blew,\ncasting the smith into high relief at every pulse of the fire. Sometimes\nit ran on the great muscles of the arm that kept the bellows in play;\nsometimes it ran a dazzling outline around his entire body, showing the\nleather apron and the black hair which flooded down about his shoulders.\n\n\"Who--\" began Connor.\n\n\"Hush,\" cautioned Joseph in a whisper. \"David speaks when he\nchooses--not sooner.\"\n\nHere the smith laid hold on the iron with long pincers, and, raising it\nfrom the coals, at once the shop burst with white light as David placed\nthe iron on the anvil and caught up a short-handled sledge. He whirled\nit and brought it down with a clangor. The sparks spurted into the\nnight, dropping to the ground and turning red at the very feet of\nConnor. Slowly David turned the iron, the steady shower of blows bending\nit, changing it, molding it under the eye of the gambler. This was that\nclangor which had floated through the clear mountain air to him when he\nfirst gazed down on the valley; this was the bell-like murmur which had\nwashed down to him through the gates of the valley.\n\nAt least it was easy to understand why the servants feared him. A full\nfourteen pounds was in the head of that sledge, Connor guessed, yet\nDavid whirled it with a light and deft precision. Only the shuddering of\nthe anvil told the weight of those blows. Meantime, with every leap of\nthe spark-showers the gambler studied the face of the master. They were\nfeatures of strength rather than beauty from the frowning forehead to\nthe craggy jaw. A sort of fierce happiness lived in that face now, the\nthought of the craftsman and the joy of the laborer in his strength.\n\nAs the white heat passed from the iron and it no longer flowed into a\nshape so readily under the hammer of the smith, a change came in him.\nConnor knew nothing of ironcraft, but he guessed shrewdly that another\nman would have softened the metal with fire again at this point.\nInstead, David chose to soften it with strength. The steady patter of\nblows increased to a thundering rain as the iron turned a dark and\ndarker red.\n\nThe rhythm of the worker grew swifter, did not break, and Connor watched\nwith a keen eye of appreciation. Just as a great thoroughbred makes its\nsupreme effort in the stretch by a lengthening and slight quickening of\nstride, but never a dropping into the choppy pace of unskilled labor at\nspeed, so the man at the anvil was now rocking steadily back and forth\nfrom heel to toe, the knees unflexing a little as he struck and\nstiffening as he swung up the hammer. The greater effort was told only\nby the greater ring of the hammer face on the hardening iron--by that\nand by the shudder of the arm of the smith as the fourteen pounds went\nclanging home to the stroke.\n\nAnd now the iron was quite dark--the smith stood with the ponderous\nsledge poised above his head and turned the bar swiftly, with study, to\nsee that the angle was exactly what he wished. The hammer did not\ndescend again on the iron; the smith was content, and plunging the big\nangle iron into the tempering tub, his burly shoulders were obscured for\na moment by a rising cloud of steam.\n\nHe stepped out of this and came directly to them. Now the lantern was\nbehind him, he was silhouetted in black, a mighty figure. He was panting\nfrom his labor, and the heavy sound of his breathing disturbed the\ngambler. He had expected to find a wise and simple old man in David.\nInstead, he was face to face with a Hercules.\n\nHis attention was directed entirely to Joseph.\n\n\"I come from my work unclean,\" he said. \"Joseph, take the stranger\nwithin and wait.\"\n\nJoseph led back into the patio to a plain wooden table beside which\nConnor, at the gesture of invitation, sat down. Here Joseph left him\nhurriedly, and the gambler looked about. The arcade was lightened by a\nflagging of crystalline white stone, and the ceiling was inlaid with the\nsame material. But the arches and the wall of the building were of\ncommon dobe, massive, but roughly built.\n\nBeyond the fountain nodded like a ghost in the patio, and now and then,\nwhen the lantern was swayed by the wind, the pool glinted and was black\nagain. The silence was beginning to make him feel more than ever like an\nunwelcome guest when another old Negro came, and Connor noted with\ngrowing wonder the third of these ancients. Each of them must have been\nin youth a fine specimen of manhood. Even in white-headed age they\nretained some of that noble countenance which remains to those who have\nonce been strong. This fellow bore a tray upon his arm, and in the free\nhand carried a large yellow cloth of a coarse weave.\n\nHe placed on the table a wooden trencher with a great loaf of white\nbread, a cone of clear honey, and an earthen pitcher of milk. Next he\nput a wooden bowl on a chair beside Connor, and when the latter\nobediently extended his hands, the old man poured warm water over them\nand dried them with a napkin.\n\nThere was a ceremony about this that fitted perfectly with the\nsurroundings, and Connor became thoughtful. He was to tempt the master\nwith the wealth of the world, but what could he give the man to replace\nhis Homeric comfort?\n\nIn the midst of these reflections soft steps approached him, and he saw\nthe brown-faced David coming in a shapeless blouse and trousers of rough\ncloth, with moccasins on his feet. Rising to meet his host, he was\nsurprised to find that David had no advantage in height and a small one\nin breadth of shoulder; in the blacksmith shop he had seemed a giant.\nThe brown man stopped beside the table. He seemed to be around thirty,\nbut because of the unwrinkled forehead Connor decided that he was\nprobably five years older.\n\n\"I am David,\" he said, without offering his hand.\n\n\"I,\" said the gambler, \"am Benjamin.\"\n\nThere was a flash that might have been either pleasure or suspicion in\nthe face of David.\n\n\"Joseph has told me what has passed between you,\" he said.\n\n\"I hope he's broken no law by letting me come in.\"\n\n\"My will is the law; in disregarding me he has broken a law.\"\n\nHe made a sign above his shoulder that brought Joseph hurrying out of\nthe gloom, his keen little eyes fastened upon the face of the master\nwith intolerable anxiety. There was another sign from David, and Joseph,\nwithout a glance at Connor, snatched the ivory head out of his pocket,\nthrust it upon the table, and stood back, watching the brown man with\nfascination.\n\n\"You see,\" went on David, \"that he returns to you the price which you\npaid him. Therefore you have no longer a right to remain in the Garden\nof Eden.\"\n\nConnor flushed. \"If this were a price,\" he answered, clinging as closely\nas he could to language as simple and direct as that of David, \"it could\nbe returned to me. But it is not a price. It is a gift, and gifts cannot\nbe returned.\"\n\nHe held out the ape-head, and when Joseph could see nothing save the\nface of David, he pushed the trinket back toward the huge man.\n\n\"Then,\" said the brown man, \"the fault which was small before is now\ngrown large.\"\n\nHe looked calmly upon Joseph, and the giant quailed. By the table hung a\ngong on which the master tapped; one of the ancient servants appeared\ninstantly.\n\n\"Go to my room,\" said David, \"and bring me the largest nugget from the\nchest.\"\n\nThe old man disappeared, and while they waited for his return the little\nbright eyes of Joseph went to and fro on the face of the master; but\nDavid was staring into the darkness of the patio. The servant brought a\nnugget of gold, as large as the doubled fist of a child, and the master\nrolled it across the table to Connor.\n\nA tenseness about his mouth told the gambler that much was staked on\nthis acceptance. He turned the nugget in his hand, noting the\ndiscoloration of the ore from which it had been taken.\n\n\"It is a fine specimen,\" he said.\n\n\"You will see,\" said David, \"both its size and weight.\"\n\nAnd Connor knew; it was an exchange for the ivory head. He laid the\nnugget carelessly back upon the table, thankful that the gift had been\noffered with such suspicious bluntness.\n\n\"It is a fine specimen,\" he repeated, \"but I am not collecting.\"\n\nThere was a heavy cloud on the face of David as he took up the nugget\nand passed it into the hand of the waiting servant; but his glance was\nfor Joseph, not Connor.\n\nJoseph burst into speech for the first time, and the words tumbled out.\n\n\"I do not want it. I shall not keep it. See, David; I give it up to\nhim!\" He made a gesture with both hands as though he would push away the\nape-head forever.\n\nThe master looked earnestly at Connor.\n\n\"You hear?\"\n\nThe latter shrugged his shoulders, saying: \"I've never taken back a\ngift, and I can't begin now.\"\n\nConnor's heart was beating rapidly, from the excitement of the strange\ninterview and the sense of his narrow escape from banishment. Because he\nhad made the gift to Joseph he had an inalienable right, it seemed, to\nexpect some return from Joseph's master--even permission to stay in the\nvalley, if he insisted.\n\nThere was another of those uncomfortable pauses, with the master looking\nsternly into the night.\n\n\"Zacharias,\" he said.\n\nThe servant stepped beside him.\n\n\"Bring the whip--and the cup.\"\n\nThe eyes of Zacharias rolled once toward Joseph and then he was gone,\nrunning; he returned almost instantly with a seven foot blacksnake,\noiled until it glistened. He put it in the hand of David, but only when\nJoseph stepped back, shuddering, and then turned and kneeled before\nDavid, the significance of that whip came home to Connor, sickening him.\nThe whites of Joseph's eyes rolled at him and Connor stepped between\nJoseph and the whip.\n\n\"Do you mean this?\" he gasped. \"Do you mean to say that you are going to\nflog that poor fellow because he took a gift from me?\"\n\n\"From you it was a gift,\" answered the master, perfectly calm, \"but to\nhim it was a price. And to me it is a great trouble.\"\n\n\"God!\" murmured Connor.\n\n\"Do you call on him?\" asked the brown man severely. \"He is only here in\nso far as I am the agent of his justice. Yet I trust it is not more His\nwill than it is the will of David. Also, the heart of Joseph is stubborn\nand must be humbled. Tears are the sign of contrition, and the whip\nshall not cease to fall until Joseph weeps.\"\n\nHis glance pushed Connor back; the gambler saw the lash whirled, and he\nturned his back sharply before it fell. Even so, the impact of the lash\non flesh cut into Connor, for he had only to take back the gift to end\nthe flogging. He set his teeth. Could he give up his only hold on David\nand the Eden Grays? By the whizzing of the lash he knew that it was laid\non with the full strength of that muscular arm. Now a horrible murmur\nfrom the throat of Joseph forced him to turn against his will.\n\nThe face of David was filled, not with anger, but with cruel disdain;\nunder his flying lash the welts leaped up on the back of Joseph, but he,\nwith his eyes shut and his head strained far back, endured. Only through\nhis teeth, each time he drew breath, came that stifled moan, and he\nshuddered at each impact of the whip. Now his eyes opened, and through\nthe mist of pain a brutal hatred glimmered at Connor. That flare of rage\nseemed to sap the last of his strength, for now his face convulsed,\ntears flooded down, and his head dropped. Instantly the hand of David\npaused.\n\nSomething had snapped in Connor at the same time that the head of Joseph\nfell, and while he wiped the wet from his face he only vaguely saw\nJoseph hurry down the corridor, with Zacharias carrying the whip behind.\n\nBut the master? There was neither cruelty nor anger in his face as he\nturned to the table and filled with milk the wooden cup which Zacharias\nhad brought.\n\n\"This is my prayer,\" he said quietly, \"that in the justice of David\nthere may never be the poison of David's wrath.\" 79\n\nHe drained the cup, broke a morsel of bread from the loaf and ate it.\nNext he filled the second cup and handed it to the gambler.\n\n\"Drink.\"\n\nAutomatically Connor obeyed.\n\n\"Eat.\"\n\nIn turn he tasted the bread.\n\n\"And now,\" said the master, in the deep, calm voice, \"you have drunk\nwith David in his house, and he has broken bread with you. Hereafter may\nthere be peace and good will between us. You have given a free gift to\none of my people, and he who gives clothes to David's people keeps David\nfrom the shame of nakedness; and he who puts bread in the mouths of\nDavid's servants feeds David himself. Stay with me, therefore, Benjamin,\nuntil you find in the Garden the thing you desire, then take it and go\nyour way. But until that time, what is David's is Benjamin's; your will\nbe my will, and my way be your way.\"\n\nHe paused.\n\n\"And now, Benjamin, you are weary?\"\n\n\"Very tired.\"\n\n\"Follow me.\"\n\nIt seemed well to Connor to remove himself from the eye of the master as\nsoon as possible. Not that the host showed signs of anger, but just as\none looks at a clear sky and forebodes hard weather because of misty\nhorizons, so the gambler guessed the frown behind David's eyes. He was\nglad to turn into the door which was opened for him. But even though he\nguessed the danger, Connor could not refrain from tempting Providence\nwith a speech of double meaning.\n\n\"You are very kind,\" he said. \"Good night, David.\"\n\n\"May God keep you until the morning, Benjamin.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWELVE_\n\n\nFrom the house of David, Joseph skulked down the terraces until he came\nto the two long buildings and entered the smaller of these. He crossed a\npatio, smaller than the court of David's house; but there, too, was the\nfountain in the center and the cool flooring of turf. Across this, and\nrunning under the dimly lighted arcade, Joseph reached a door which he\ntore open, slammed behind him again, and with his great head fallen upon\nhis chest, stared at a little withered Negro who sat on a stool opposite\nthe door. It was rather a low bench of wood than a stool; for it stood\nnot more than six inches above the level of the floor. His shoes off,\nand his bare feet tucked under his legs, he sat tailorwise and peered up\nat the giant. The sudden opening of the door had set his loose blouse\nfluttering about the old man's skeleton body. The sleeves fell back from\nbony forearms with puckered skin. He was less a man than a receptacle of\ntime. His temples sank in like the temples of a very old horse; his\ntoothless mouth was crushed together by the pressure of the long bony\njaw, below which the skin hung in a flap. But the fire still glimmered\nin the hollows of his eyes. A cheerful spirit lived in the grasshopper\nbody. He was knitting with a pair of slender needles, never looking at\nhis work, nor during the interview with Joseph did he once slacken his\npace. The needles clicked with such swift precision that the work grew\nperceptibly, flowing slowly under his hands.\n\nMeanwhile this death's head looked at the giant so steadily that Joseph\nseemed to regret his unceremonious entrance. He stood back against the\ndoor, fumbling its knob for a moment, but then his rage mastered him\nonce more, and he burst into the tale of Connor's coming and the ivory\nhead. He brought his story to an end by depositing the trinket before\nthe ancient man and then stood back, his face still working, and waited\nwith every show of confident curiosity.\n\nAs for the antique, his knitting needles continued to fly, but to view\nthe little carving more closely he craned his skinny neck. At that\nmoment, with his fallen features, his fleshless nose, he was a grinning\nmummy head. He remained gloating over the little image so long that\nJoseph stirred uneasily; but finally the grotesque lifted his head. It\nat once fell far back, the neck muscles apparently unable to support its\nweight. He looked more at the ceiling than at Joseph. His speech was a\nwrithing of the lips and the voice a hollow murmur.\n\n\"This,\" he said, \"is the face of a great suhman. It is the face of the\ngreat suhman, Haneemar. It was many years ago that I knew him. It was a\ntime so long ago that I do not know how to tell you. It was before your\nbirth and the birth of your father. It was when I lived in a green\ncountry where the air is thick and sweet and the sun burns. There I knew\nHaneemar. He is a strong suhman. You see, his eyes are green; that is\nbecause he has the strength of the great snake that ties its tail around\na branch and hangs down with its head as high as the breast of a man.\nThose snakes kill an antelope and eat it at a mouthful. Their eyes are\ngreen and so are the eyes of Haneemar. And you see that Haneemar has\ngolden teeth. That is because he has eaten wisdom. He knows the meat of\nall things like a nut he can crack between his teeth. He is as strong as\nthe snake which eats monkeys, and he is as wise as the monkeys that run\nfrom the snake and throw sticks from the tops of the trees. That is\nHaneemar.\n\n\"There is no luck for the man who carries the face of Haneemar with him.\nThat is why David used the whip. He knew Haneemar. Also, in the other\ndays I remember that when a child was sick in the village they tied a\ngoat in the forest and Haneemar came and ate the goat. If he ate the\ngoat like a lion and left tooth marks on the bones then the child got\nwell and lived. If he ate the goat like a panther and left the guts the\nchild died. But if the goat was not eaten for one day then Haneemar came\nand ate the child instead. I remember this. There will be no luck for\nyou while you carry Haneemar.\"\n\nThe big man had heard this speech with eyes that grew rounder and\nrounder. Now he caught up the little image and raised his arm to throw\nit through the window. But the old man hissed, and Joseph turned with a\nshudder.\n\n\"You cannot throw Haneemar away,\" said the other. \"Only when some one\ntakes him freely will you be rid of him.\"\n\n\"It is true,\" answered Joseph. \"I remember the visitor would not take\nhim back.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the old sage, \"if the stranger will not take him back, bad\nluck has come into the Garden, for only the stranger would carry\nHaneemar out again. But do not give Haneemar to one of our friends, for\nthen he will stay with us all. If you dig a deep hole and bury him in\nit, Haneemar may not be able to get out.\"\n\nJoseph was beginning to swell with wrath.\n\n\"The stranger has put a curse on me,\" he said. \"Abraham, what shall I do\nto him? Teach me a curse to put on him!\"\n\n\"Hush!\" answered Abraham. \"Those who pray to evil spirits are the slaves\nof the powers they pray to.\"\n\n\"Then I shall take this Benjamin in my hands!\"\n\nHe made a gesture as though he were snapping a stick of dry wood.\n\n\"You are the greater fool. Is not this Benjamin, this stranger, a guest\nof the master?\"\n\n\"I shall steal him away by night in such a manner that he shall not make\neven the noise of a mouse when the cat breaks its back. I shall steal\nhim away and David will never know.\"\n\nThe loose eyelids of the old man puckered and his glance became a ray of\nlight.\n\n\"The curse already works; Haneemar already is in your mind, Joseph.\nDavid will not know? Child, there is nothing that he does not know. He\nuses us. We are his tools. My mind is to him as my hand is to me. He\ncomes inside my eyes; he knows what I think. And if old Abraham is\nnothing before David, what is Joseph? Hush! Let not a whisper go out! Do\nnot even dare to think it. You have felt the whip of David, but you have\nnot felt his hand when he is in anger. A wounded mountain lion is not so\nterrible as the rage of David; he would be to you as an ax at the root\nof a sapling. These things have happened before. I remember. Did not\nBoram once anger John? And was not Boram as great as Joseph? And did not\nJohn take Boram in his hands and conquer him and break him? Yes, and\nDavid is a greater body and a stronger hand than John. Also, his anger\nis as free as the running of an untaught colt. Remember, my son!\"\n\nJoseph stretched out his enormous arms and his voice was a broken wail.\n\n\"Oh, Abraham, Abraham, what shall I do?\"\n\n\"Wait,\" said the old man quietly. \"For waiting makes the spirit strong.\nLook at Abraham! His body has been dead these twenty years, but still\nhis spirit lives.\"\n\n\"But the curse of Haneemar, Abraham?\"\n\n\"Haneemar is patient. Let Joseph be patient also.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER THIRTEEN_\n\n\nConnor wakened in the gray hour of the morning, but beyond the window\nthe world was much brighter than his room. The pale terraces went down\nto scattered trees, and beyond the trees was the water of the lake.\nFarther still the mountains rolled up into a brighter morning. A horse\nneighed out of the dawn; the sound came ringing to Connor, and he was\nsuddenly eager to be outside.\n\nIn the patio the fountain was still playing. As for the house, he found\nit far less imposing than it had been when lantern light picked out\ndetails here and there. The walls and the clumsy arches were the\ndisagreeable color of dried mud and all under the arcade was dismal\nshadow. But the lawn was already a faintly shining green, and the\nfountain went up above the ground shadow in a column of light. He passed\non. The outside wall had that squat, crumbling appearance which every\none knows who has been in Mexico--and through an avenue of trees he saw\nthe two buildings between which he had ridden the night before. From the\nlonger a man was leading one of the gray horses. This, then, was the\nstable; the building opposite it was a duplicate on a smaller scale of\nthe house of David, and must be the servants' quarters.\n\nConnor went on toward a hilltop which alone topped the site of the\nmaster's house; the crest was naked of trees, and over the tops of the\nsurrounding ones Connor found that he commanded a complete view of the\nvalley. The day before, looking from the far-off mountaintop, it had\nseemed to be a straight line very nearly, from the north to the south;\nnow he saw that from the center both ends swung westward. The valley\nmight be twelve miles long, and two or three wide, fenced by an unbroken\nwall of cliffs. Over the northern barrier poured a white line of water,\nwhich ran on through the valley in a river that widened above David's\nhouse into a spacious lake three or four miles long. The river began\nagain from the end of the lake and continued straight to the base of the\nsouthern cliffs. Roads followed the swing of the river closely on each\nside, and the stream was bridged at each end of the lake. His angle of\nvision was so small that both extremities of the valley seemed a solid\nforest, but in the central portion he made out broad meadow lands and\nplowed fields checkering the groves. The house, as he had guessed the\nevening before, stood into the lake on a slender peninsula. And due west\na narrow slit of light told of the gate into the Garden. It gave him a\ncuriously confused emotion, as of a prisoner and spy in one.\n\nHe had walked back almost to the edge of the clearing when David, from\nthe other side went up to the crest of the hill. Connor was already\namong the trees and he watched unobserved. The master of the Garden, at\nthe top of the hill, paused and turned toward Connor. The gambler\nflushed; he was about to step out and hail his host when a second\nthought assured him that he could not have been noticed behind that\nscreen of shrubbery and trunks; moreover the glance of David Eden passed\nhigh above him. It might have been the cry of a hawk that made him turn\nso sharply; but through several minutes he remained without moving\neither hand or head, and as though he were waiting. Even in the distance\nConnor marked the smile of happy expectation. If it had been another\nplace and another man Connor would have thought it a lover waiting for\nhis mistress.\n\nBut, above all, he was glad of the opportunity to see David and remain\nunseen. He realized that the evening before it had been difficult to\nlook directly into David's face. He had carried away little more than\nimpressions; of strength, dignity, a surface calm and strong passions\nunder it; but now he was able to see the face. It was full of\ncontradiction; a profile irregular and deeply cut, but the full face had\na touch of nobility that made it almost handsome.\n\nAs he watched, Connor thought he detected a growing excitement in\nDavid--his head was raised, his smile had deepened. Perhaps he came here\nto rejoice in his possessions; but a moment later Connor realized that\nthis could not be the case, for the gaze of the other must be fixed as\nhigh as the mountain peaks.\n\nAt that instant came the revelation; there was a stiffening of the whole\nbody of David; his breast filled and he swayed forward and raised almost\non tiptoe. Connor, by sympathy, grew tense--and then the miracle\nhappened. Over the face of David fell a sudden radiance. His hair, dull\nblack the moment before, now glistened with light, and the swarthy skin\nbecame a shining bronze; his lips parted as though he drank in strength\nand happiness out of that miraculous light.\n\nThe hard-headed Connor was staggered. Back on his mind rushed a score of\ndetails, the background of this picture. He remembered the almost\nsuperhuman strength of Joseph; he saw again the old servants withering\nwith many years, but still bright-eyed, straight and agile. Perhaps\nthey, too, knew how to stand here and drink in a mysterious light which\nfilled their outworn bodies with youth of the spirit, at least. And\nDavid? Was not this the reason that he scorned the world? Here was his\ntreasure past reckoning, this fountain of youth. Here was the\nexplanation, too, of that intolerable brightness of his eye.\n\nThe gambler bowed his head.\n\nWhen he looked up again his soul had traveled higher and lower in one\ninstant than it had ever moved before; he was staring like a child.\nAbove all, he wanted to see the face of David again, to examine that\nmysterious change, but the master was already walking down the hill and\nhad almost reached the circle of the trees on the opposite side of the\nslope. But now Connor noted a difference everywhere surrounding him. The\nair was warmer; the wind seemed to have changed its fiber; and then he\nsaw that the treetops opposite him were shaking and glistening in a\nglory of light. Connor went limp and leaned against a tree, laughing\nweakly, silently.\n\n\"Hell,\" he said at length, recovering himself. \"It was only the sunrise!\nAnd me--I thought--\"\n\nHe began to laugh again, aloud, and the sound was caught up by the\nhillside and thrown back at him in a sharp echo. Connor went\nthoughtfully back to the house. In the patio he found the table near the\nfountain laid with a cloth, the wood scrubbed white, and on it the heavy\nearthenware. David Eden came in with the calm, the same eye, difficult\nto meet. Indeed, then and thereafter when he was with David, he found\nhimself continually looking away, and resorting to little maneuvers to\ndivert the glance of his host.\n\n\"Good morrow,\" said David.\n\n\"I have kept you waiting?\" asked Connor.\n\nThe master paused to make sure that he had understood the speech, then\nreplied:\n\n\"If I had been hungry I should have eaten.\"\n\nThere was no rebuff in that quiet statement, but it opened another door\nto Connor's understanding.\n\n\"Take this chair,\" said David, moving it from the end of the table to\nthe side. \"Sitting here you can look through the gate of the patio and\ndown to the lake. It is not pleasant to have four walls about one; but\nthat is a thing which Isaac cannot understand.\"\n\nThe gambler nodded, and to show that he could be as unceremonious as his\nhost, sat down without further words. He immediately felt awkward, for\nDavid remained standing. He broke a morsel from the loaf of bread, which\nwas yet the only food on the table, and turned to the East with a solemn\nface.\n\n\"Out of His hands from whom I take this food,\" said the master--\"into\nHis hands I give myself.\"\n\nHe sat down in turn, and Isaac came instantly with the breakfast. It was\nan astonishing menu to one accustomed to toast and coffee for the\nmorning meal. On a great wooden platter which occupied half the surface\nof the table, Isaac put down two chickens, roasted brown. A horn-handled\nhunting knife, razor sharp, was the only implement at each place, and\nfingers must serve as forks. To David that was a small impediment. Under\nthe deft edge of his knife the breast of one chicken divided rapidly; he\nate the white slices like bread. Indeed, the example was easy to follow;\nthe mountain air had given him a vigorous appetite, and when Connor next\nlooked up it was at the sound of glass tinkling. He saw Isaac holding\ntoward the master a bucket of water in which a bottle was immersed\nalmost to the cork; David tried the temperature of the water with his\nfingers with a critical air, and then nodded to Isaac, who instantly\ndrew the cork. A moment later red wine was trickling into Connor's cup.\nHe viewed it with grateful astonishment, but David, poising his cup,\nlooked across at his guest with a puzzled air.\n\n\"In the old days,\" he said gravely, \"when my masters drank they spoke to\none another in a kindly fashion. It is now five years since a man has\nsat at my table, and I am moved to say this to you, Benjamin: it is\npleasant to speak to another not as a master who must be obeyed, but as\nan equal who may be answered, and this is my wish, that if I have doubts\nof Benjamin, and unfriendly thoughts, they may disappear with the wine\nwe drink.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Connor, and a thrill went through him as he met the\neye of David. \"That wish is my wish also--and long life to you, David.\"\n\nThere was a glint of pleasure in the face of David, and they drank\ntogether.\n\n\"By Heaven,\" cried Connor, putting down the cup, \"it is Medoc! It is\nChateau Lafite, upon my life!\"\n\nHe tasted it again.\n\n\"And the vintage of '96! Is that true?\"\n\nDavid shook his head.\n\n\"I have never heard of Medoc or Chateau Lafite.\"\n\n\"At least,\" said Connor, raising his cup and breathing the delicate\nbouquet, \"this wine is Bordeaux you imported from France? The grapes\nwhich made this never grew outside of the Gironde!\"\n\nBut David smiled.\n\n\"In the north of the Garden,\" he said, \"there are some low rolling\nhills, Benjamin; and there the grapes grow from which we make this\nwine.\"\n\nConnor tasted the claret again. His respect for David had suddenly\nmounted; the hermit seemed nearer to him.\n\n\"You grew these grapes in your valley?\" he repeated softly.\n\n\"This very bottle we are drinking,\" said David, warming to the talk. \"I\nremember when the grapes of this vintage were picked; I was a boy,\nthen.\"\n\n\"I believe it,\" answered Connor solemnly, and he raised the cup with a\nreverent hand, so that the sun filtered into the red and filled the\nliquid with dancing points of light.\n\n\"It is a full twenty years old.\"\n\n\"It is twenty-five years old,\" said David calmly, \"and this is the best\nvintage in ten years.\" He sighed. \"It is now in its perfect prime and\nnext year it will not be the same. You shall help me finish the stock,\nBenjamin.\"\n\n\"You need not urge me,\" smiled Connor.\n\nHe shook his head again.\n\n\"But that is one wine I could have vowed I knew--Medoc. At least, I can\ntell you the soil it grows in.\"\n\nThe brows of the host raised; he began to listen intently.\n\n\"It is a mixture of gravel, quartz and sand,\" continued Connor.\n\n\"True!\" exclaimed David, and looked at his guest with new eyes.\n\n\"And two feet underneath there is a stone for subsoil which is a sort of\nsand or fine gravel cemented together.\"\n\nDavid struck his hands together, frankly delighted.\n\n\"This is marvelous,\" he said, \"I would say you have seen the hills.\"\n\n\"I paid a price for what I know,\" said Connor rather gloomily. \"But\nnorth of Bordeaux in France there is a strip of land called the\nMedoc--the finest wine soil in the world, and there I learned what\nclaret may be--there I tasted Chateau Lafite and Chateau Datour. They\nare both grown in the commune of Pauillac.\"\n\n\"France?\" echoed David, with the misty eyes of one who speaks of a lost\nworld. \"Ah, you have traveled?\"\n\n\"Wherever fine horses race,\" said Connor, and turned back to the\nchicken.\n\n\"Think,\" said David suddenly, \"for five years I have lived in silence.\nThere have been voices about me, but never mind; and now you here, and\nalready you have taken me at a step halfway around the world.\n\n\"Ah, Benjamin, it is possible for an emptiness to be in a manlike\nhunger, you understand, and yet different--and nothing but a human voice\ncan fill the space.\"\n\n\"Have you no wish to leave your valley for a little while and see the\nworld?\" said Connor, carelessly.\n\nHe watched gloomily, while an expression of strong distaste grew on the\nface of David. He was still frowning when he answered:\n\n\"We will not speak of it again.\"\n\nHe jerked his head up and cleared away his frown with an effort.\n\n\"To speak with one man in the Garden--that is one thing,\" he\nwent on, \"but to hear the voices of two jabbering and gibbering\ntogether--grinning like mindless creatures--throwing their hands out to\nhelp their words, as poor Joseph does--bah, it is like drinking new\nwine; it makes one sick. It made me so five times.\"\n\n\"Five times?\" said Connor. \"You have traveled a good deal, then?\"\n\n\"Too much,\" sighed David. \"And each time I returned from Parkin Crossing\nI have cared less for what lies outside the valley.\"\n\n\"Parkin Crossing?\"\n\n\"I have been told that there are five hundred people in the city,\" said\nDavid, pronouncing the number slowly. \"But when I was there, I was never\nable to count more than fifty, I believe.\"\n\nConnor found it necessary to cough.\n\n\"And each time you have left the valley you have gone no farther than\nParkin Crossing?\" he asked mildly, his spirits rising.\n\n\"And is not that far enough?\" replied the master, frowning. \"It is a\nride between dawn and dark.\"\n\n\"What is that in miles?\"\n\n\"A hundred and thirty miles,\" said David, \"or thereabout.\"\n\nConnor closed his eyes twice and then: \"You rode that distance between\ndawn and dark?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Over these mountains most of the way?\" he continued gently.\n\n\"About half the distance,\" answered David.\n\n\"And how long\"--queried Connor hoarsely--\"how long before your horse was\nable to make the trip back after you had ridden a hundred and thirty\nmiles in twelve hours?\"\n\n\"The next day,\" said David, \"I always return.\"\n\n\"In the same time?\"\n\n\"In the same time,\" said David.\n\nTo doubt that simple voice was impossible. But Connor knew horses, and\nhis credence was strained to the breaking point.\n\n\"I should like very much,\" he said, \"to see a horse that had covered two\nhundred and sixty miles within forty-eight hours.\"\n\n\"Thirty-six,\" corrected David.\n\nConnor swallowed.\n\n\"Thirty-six,\" he murmured faintly.\n\n\"I shall send for him,\" said the master, and struck the little gong\nwhich stood on one side of the table. Isaac came hurrying with that\nlight step which made Connor forget his age.\n\n\"Bring Glani,\" said David.\n\nIsaac hurried across the patio, and David continued talking to his\nguest.\n\n\"Glani is not friendly; but you can see him from a distance.\"\n\n\"And yet,\" said Connor, \"the other horses in the Garden seem as friendly\nas pet dogs. Is Glani naturally vicious?\"\n\n\"His is of other blood,\" replied David. \"He is the blood of the great\nmare Rustir, and all in her line are meant for one man only. He is more\nproud than all the rest.\"\n\nHe leaned back in his chair and his face, naturally stern, grew tender.\n\n\"Since he was foaled no hand has touched him except mine; no other has\nridden him, groomed him, fed him.\"\n\n\"I'll be glad to see him,\" said Connor quietly. \"For I have never yet\nfound a horse which would not come to my hand.\"\n\nAs he spoke, he looked straight into the eyes of David, with an effort,\nand at the same time took from the pocket of his coat a little bulbous\nroot which was always with him. A Viennese who came from a life half\nspent in the Orient had given him a small box of those herbs as a\npriceless present. For the secret was that when the root was rubbed over\nthe hands it left a faint odor on the skin, like freshly cut apples; and\nto a horse that perfume was irresistible. They seemed to find in it a\npicture of sweet clover, blossoming, and clean oats finely headed; yet\nto the nostrils of a man the scent was barely perceptible. Under cover\nof the table the gambler rubbed his hands swiftly with the little root\nand dropped it back into his pocket. That was the secret of the power\nover Abra which had astonished the two old men at the gate. A hundred\ntimes, in stable and paddock, Connor had gone up to the most intractable\nrace horses and looked them over at close hand, at his leisure. The\nmaster seemed in nowise disturbed by the last remark of Connor.\n\n\"That is true of old Abraham, also,\" he said. \"There was never a colt\nfoaled in the valley which Abraham had not been able to call away from\nits mother; he can read the souls of them all with a touch of his\nwithered hands. Yes, I have seen that twenty times. But with Glani it is\ndifferent. He is as proud as a man; he is fierce as a wolf; and Abraham\nhimself cannot touch the neck of my horse. Look!\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER FOURTEEN_\n\n\nUnder the arch of the entrance Connor saw a gray stallion, naked of\nhalter or rope, with his head raised. From the shadow he came shining\ninto the sunlight; the wind raised his mane and tail in ripples of\nsilver. Ben Connor rose slowly from his chair. Horses were religion to\nhim; he felt now that he had stepped into the inner shrine.\n\nWhen he was able to speak he turned slowly toward David. \"Sir,\" he said\nhoarsely, \"that is the greatest horse ever bred.\"\n\nIt was far more than a word of praise; it was a confession of faith\nwhich surrounded the moment and the stallion with solemnity, and David\nflushed like a proud boy.\n\n\"There he stands,\" he said. \"Now make him come to your hand.\"\n\nIt recalled Connor to his senses, that challenge, and feeling that his\nmind had been snatched away from him for a moment, almost that he had\nbeen betrayed, he looked at David with a pale face.\n\n\"He is too far away,\" he said. \"Bring him closer.\"\n\nThere was one of those pauses which often come before crises, and Connor\nknew that by the outcome of this test he would be judged either a man\nor a cheap boaster.\n\n\"I shall do this thing,\" said the master of the Garden of Eden. \"If you\nbring Glani to your hand I shall give him to you to ride while you stay\nin the valley. Listen! No other man had so much as laid a hand on the\nwithers of Glani, but if you can make him come to you of his own free\nwill--\"\n\n\"No,\" said Connor calmly. \"I shall make him come because my will is\nstronger than his.\"\n\n\"Impossible!\" burst out David.\n\nHe controlled himself and looked at Connor with an almost wistful\ndefiance.\n\n\"I hold to this,\" he said. \"If you can bring Glani to your hand, he is\nyours while you stay in the Garden--for my part, I shall find another\nmount.\"\n\nConnor slipped his right hand into his pocket and crushed the little\nroot against the palm.\n\n\"Come hither, Glani,\" commanded the master. The stallion came up behind\nDavid's chair, looking fearlessly at the stranger.\n\n\"Now,\" said David with scorn. \"This is your time.\"\n\n\"I accept it,\" replied Connor.\n\nHe drew his hand from his pocket, and leaning over the table, he looked\nstraight into the eye of the stallion. But in reality, it was only to\nbring that right hand closer; the wind was stirring behind him, and he\nknew that it wafted the scent of the mysterious root straight to Glani.\n\n\"That is impossible,\" said David, following the glance of Connor with a\nfrown. \"A horse has no reasoning brain. Silence cannot make him come to\nyou.\"\n\n\"However,\" said Connor carelessly, \"I shall not speak.\"\n\nThe master set his teeth over unuttered words, and glancing up to\nreassure himself, his face altered swiftly, and he whispered:\n\n\"Now, you four dead masters, bear witness to this marvel! Glani feels\nthe influence!\"\n\nFor the head of Glani had raised as he scented the wind. Then he circled\nthe table and came straight toward Connor. Within a pace, the scent of\nstrange humanity must have drowned the perfume of the root; he sprang\naway, catlike and snorted his suspicion.\n\nDavid heaved a great sigh of relief.\n\n\"You fail!\" he cried, and snatching up a bottle of wine, he poured out a\ncup. \"Brave Glani! I drink this in your honor!\"\n\nEvery muscle in David's strong body was quivering, as though he were\nthrowing all the effort of his will on the side of the stallion.\n\n\"You think I have failed?\" asked Connor softly.\n\n\"Admit it,\" said David.\n\nHis flush was gone and he was paler than Connor now; he seemed to desire\nwith all his might that the test should end; there was a fiber of\nentreaty in his voice.\n\n\"Admit it, Benjamin, as I admit your strange power.\"\n\n\"I have hardly begun. Give me quiet.\"\n\nDavid flung himself into his chair, his attention jerking from Glani to\nConnor and back. It was at this critical moment that a faint breeze\npuffed across the patio, carrying the imperceptible fragrance of the\nroot straight to Glani. Connor watched the stallion prick his ears, and\nhe blessed the quaint old Viennese with all his heart.\n\nThe first approach of Glani had been in the nature of a feint, but now\nthat he was sure, he went with all the directness of unspoiled courage\nstraight to the stranger. He lowered the beautiful head and thrust out\nhis nose until it touched the hand of Connor. The gambler saw David\nshudder.\n\n\"You have conquered,\" he said, forcing out the words.\n\n\"Take Glani; to me he is now a small thing. He is yours while you stay\nin the Garden. Afterward I shall give him to one of my servants.\"\n\nConnor stood up, and though at his rising Glani started back, he came to\nConnor again, following that elusive scent. To David it seemed the last\nstruggle of the horse before completely submitting to the rule of a new\nmaster. He rose in turn, trembling with shame and anger, while Connor\nstood still, for about this stranger drifted a perfume of broad green\nfields with flowering tufts of grass, the heads well-seeded and sweet.\nAnd when a hand touched his withers, the stallion merely turned his head\nand nuzzled the shoulder of Connor inquisitively.\n\nWith his hand on the back of the horse, the gambler realized for the\nfirst time Glani's full stature. He stood at least fifteen-three, though\nhis perfect proportions made him seem smaller at a distance. No doubt he\nwas a giant among the Eden Grays, Connor thought to himself. The gallop\non Abra the night before had been a great moment, but a ride on Glani\nwas a prospect that took his breath. He paused. Perhaps it was the\ninfluence of a forgotten Puritan ancestor, casting a shade on every hope\nof happiness. With his weight poised for the leap to the back of the\nstallion, Connor looked at David. The master was in a silent agony, and\nthe hand of Connor fell away from the horse. He was afraid.\n\n\"I can't do it,\" he said frankly.\n\n\"Jump on his back,\" urged David bitterly. \"He's no more to you than a\nyearling to the hands of Abraham.\"\n\nConnor realized now how far he had gone; he set about retracing the\nwrong steps.\n\n\"It may appear that way, but I can't trust myself on his back. You\nunderstand?\"\n\nHe stepped back with a gesture that sent Glani bounding away.\n\n\"You see,\" went on Connor, \"I never could really understand him.\"\n\nThe master seized with eagerness upon this gratifying suggestion.\n\n\"It is true,\" he said, \"that you are a little afraid of Glani. That is\nwhy none of the rest can handle him.\"\n\nHe stopped in the midst of his self-congratulation and directed at\nConnor one of those glances which the gambler could never learn to meet.\n\n\"Also,\" said David, \"you make me happy. If you had sat on his back I\nshould have felt your weight on my own shoulders and spirit.\"\n\nHe laid a hand on Connor's shoulder, but the gambler had won and lost\ntoo often with an impenetrable face to quail now. He even managed to\nsmile.\n\n\"Hearken,\" said David. \"My masters taught me many things, and everything\nthey taught me must be true, for they were only voices of a mind out of\nanother world. Yet, in spite of them,\" he went on kindly, \"I begin to\nfeel a kinship with you, Benjamin. Come, we will walk and talk together\nin the cool of the morning. Glani!\"\n\nThe gray had wandered off to nibble at the turf; he whirled and came\nlike a thrown lance.\n\n\"Glani,\" said David, \"is usually the only living thing that walks with\nme in the morning; but now, my friend, we are three.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER FIFTEEN_\n\n\nIn the mid-afternoon of that day Connor rested in his room, and David\nrested in the lake, floating with only his nose and lips out of water.\nToward the center of the lake even the surface held the chill of the\nsnows, but David floated in the warm shallows and looked up to the sky\nthrough a film of water. The tiny ripples became immense air waves that\nrushed from mountain to mountain, dashed the clouds up and down, and\nthen left the heavens placid and windless.\n\nHe grew weary of this placidity, and as he turned upon one side he heard\na prolonged hiss from the shore. David rolled with the speed of a water\nmoccasin and headed in with his arm flashing in a powerful stroke that\npresently brought him to the edge of the beach. He rose in front of old\nAbraham.\n\nA painter should have seen them together--the time-dried body of the old\nman and the exuberant youth of the master. He looked on the servant with\na stern kindness.\n\n\"What are you doing here without a covering for your head while the sun\nis hot? Did they let you come of their own accord, Abraham?\"\n\n\"I slipped away,\" chuckled Abraham. \"Isaac was in the patio, but I went\nby him like a hawk-shadow. Then I ran among the trees. Hat? Well, no\nmore have you a hat, David.\"\n\nThe master frowned, but his displeasure passed quickly and he led the\nway to the lowest terrace. They sat on the soft thick grass, with their\nfeet in the hot sand of the beach, and as the wind stirred the tree\nabove them a mottling of shadow moved across them.\n\n\"You have come to speak privately with me,\" said David. \"What is it?\"\n\nBut Abraham embraced his skinny knees and smiled at the lake, his jaw\nfalling.\n\n\"It's not what it was,\" he said, and wagged his head. \"It's a sad lake\ncompared to what it was.\"\n\nDavid controlled his impatience.\n\n\"Tell me how it is changed.\"\n\n\"The color,\" said the old man. \"Why, once, with a gallon of that blue\nyou could have painted the whole sky.\" He shaded his face to look up,\nbut so doing his glance ventured through the branches and close to the\nwhite-hot circle of the sun. His head dropped and he leaned on one arm.\n\n\"Look at the green of the grass,\" suggested David. \"It will rest your\neyes.\"\n\n\"Do you think my eyes are weak? No, I dropped my head to think how the\nworld has fallen off in the last fifty years. It was all different in\nthe days of John. But that was before you came to the valley.\"\n\n\"The sky was not the same?\" queried the master.\n\n\"And men, also,\" said Abraham instantly. \"Ho, yes! John was a man; you\nwill not see his like in these days.\"\n\nDavid flushed, but he held back his first answer. \"Perhaps.\"\n\n\"There is no 'perhaps.'\"\n\nAbraham spoke with a decision that brought his jaw close up under his\nnose.\n\n\"He is my master,\" insisted Abraham, and, smiling suddenly, he\nwhispered: \"Mah ol' Marse Johnnie Cracken!\"\n\n\"What's that?\" called David.\n\nAbraham stared at him with unseeing eyes. A mist of years drifted\nbetween them, and now the old man came slowly out of the past and found\nhimself seated on the lawn in a lonely valley with great, naked\nmountains piled around it.\n\n\"What did you say?\" repeated David.\n\nAbraham hastily changed the subject.\n\n\"In those days if a stranger came to the Garden of Eden he did not stay.\nAye, and in those days Abraham could have taken the strongest by the\nneck and pitched him through the gates. I remember when the men came\nover the mountains--long before you were born. Ten men at the gate, I\nremember, and they had guns. But when my master told them to go away\nthey looked at him and they looked at each other, but after a while they\nwent away.\"\n\nAbraham rocked in an ecstasy.\n\n\"No man could face my master. I remember how he sat on his horse that\nday.\"\n\n\"It was Rustir?\" asked David eagerly.\n\n\"She was the queen of horses,\" replied the old man indirectly, \"and he\nwas the king of men; there are no more men like my master, and there are\nno more horses like Rustir.\"\n\nThere was a pause, then David spoke.\n\n\"John was a good man and a strong man,\" he said, looking down at his own\nbrown hands. \"And Rustir was a fine mare, but it is foolish to call her\nthe best.\"\n\n\"There was never a horse like Rustir,\" said the old man monotonously.\n\n\"Bah! What of Glani?\"\n\n\"Yes, that is a good colt.\"\n\n\"A good colt! Come, Abraham! Have you ever opened your dim eyes and\nreally looked at him? Name one fault.\"\n\n\"I have said Glani is a good colt,\" repeated Abraham, worried.\n\n\"Come, come! You have said Rustir was better.\"\n\n\"Glani is a good colt, but too heavy in the forehand. Far too heavy\nthere.\"\n\nThe restraint of David snapped.\n\n\"It is false! Ephraim, Jacob, they all say that Glani is the greatest.\"\n\n\"They change like the masters,\" grumbled Abraham. \"The servants change.\nThey flatter and the master believes. But my master had an eye--he\nlooked through a man like an eagle through mist. When I stood before my\nmaster my soul was naked; a wind blew through me. But I say John was one\nman; and there are no other horses like his mare Rustir. My master is\nsilent; other men have words as heavy as their hands.\"\n\n\"Peace, Abraham, peace. You shame me. The Lord was far from me, and I\nspoke in anger, and I retract it.\"\n\n\"A word is a bullet that strikes men down, David. Let the wind blow on\nyour face when your heart is hot.\"\n\n\"I confess my sin,\" said David, but his jaw was set.\n\n\"Confess your sins in silence.\"\n\n\"It is true.\"\n\nHe looked at Abraham as if he would be rid of him.\n\n\"You are angry to-day, Abraham.\"\n\n\"The law of the Garden has been broken.\"\n\n\"By whom?\"\n\n\"David has unbarred the gate.\"\n\n\"Yes, to one man.\"\n\n\"It is enough.\"\n\n\"Peace, Abraham. You are old and look awry. This one man is no danger. I\ncould break him in my hands--so!\"\n\n\"A strong man may be hopeless against words,\" said the oracular old man.\n\"With a word he may set you on fire.\"\n\n\"Do you think me a tinder and dry grass? Set me on fire with a word?\"\n\n\"An old man who looks awry had done it with a word. And see--again!\"\n\nThere was a silence filled only by the sound of David's breathing and\nthe slow curling of the ripples on the beach.\n\n\"You try me sorely, Abraham.\"\n\n\"Good steel will bend, but not break.\"\n\n\"Say no more of this man. He is harmless.\"\n\n\"Is that a command, David?\"\n\n\"No--but at least be brief.\"\n\n\"Then I say to you, David, that he has brought evil into the valley.\"\n\nThe master burst into sudden laughter that carried away his anger.\n\n\"He brought no evil, Abraham. He brought only the clothes on his back.\"\n\n\"The serpent brought into the first Garden only his skin and his forked\ntongue.\"\n\n\"There was a devil in that serpent.\"\n\n\"Aye, and what of Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Tell me your proofs, and let them be good ones, Abraham.\"\n\n\"I am old,\" said Abraham sadly, \"but I am not afraid.\"\n\n\"I wait.\"\n\n\"Benjamin brought an evil image with him. It is the face of a great\nsuhman, and he tempted Joseph with it, and Joseph fell.\"\n\n\"The trinket of carved bone?\" asked David.\n\n\"The face of a devil! Who was unhappy among us until Benjamin came? But\nwith his charm he bought Joseph, and now Joseph walks alone and thinks\nunholy thoughts, and when he is spoken to he looks up first with a\nsnake's eye before he answers. Is not this the work of Benjamin?\"\n\n\"What would you have me do? Joseph has already paid for his fault with\nthe pain of the whip.\"\n\n\"Cast out the stranger, David.\"\n\nDavid mused. At last he spoke. \"Look at me, Abraham!\"\n\nThe other raised his head and peered into the face of David, but\npresently his glance wavered and turned away.\n\n\"See,\" said David. \"After Matthew died there was no one in the Garden\nwho could meet my glance. But Benjamin meets my eye and I feel his\nthoughts before he speaks them. He is pleasant to me, Abraham.\"\n\n\"The voice of the serpent was pleasant to Eve,\" said Abraham.\n\nThe nostrils of David quivered.\n\n\"What is it that you call the trinket?\"\n\n\"A great suhman. My people feared and worshiped him in the old days. A\nstrong devil!\"\n\n\"An idol!\" said David. \"What! Abraham, do you still worship sticks and\nstones? Have you been taught no more than that? Do you put a mind in the\nhandiwork of a man?\"\n\nThe head of Abraham fell.\n\n\"I am weak before you, David,\" he said. \"I have no power to speak except\nthe words of my master, which I remember. Now I feel you rise against\nme, and I am dust under your feet. Think of Abraham, then, as a voice in\nthe wind, but hear that voice. I know, but I know not why I know, or how\nI know, there is evil in the valley, David. Cast it out!\"\n\n\"I have broken bread and drunk milk with Benjamin. How can I drive him\nout of the valley?\"\n\n\"Let him stay in the valley if you can keep him out of your mind. He is\nin your thoughts. He is with you like a shadow.\"\n\n\"He is not stronger than I,\" said the master.\n\n\"Evil is stronger than the greatest.\"\n\n\"It is cowardly to shrink from him before I know him.\"\n\n\"Have no fear of him--but of yourself. A wise man trembleth at his own\nstrength.\"\n\n\"Tell me, Abraham--does the seed of Rustir know men? Do they know good\nand evil?\"\n\n\"Yes, for Rustir knew my master.\"\n\n\"And has Glani ever bowed his head for any man saving for me?\"\n\n\"He is a stubborn colt. Aye, he troubled me!\"\n\n\"But I tell you, Abraham, he came to the hand of Benjamin!\"\n\nThe old man blinked at the master.\n\n\"Then there was something in that hand,\" he said at last.\n\n\"There was nothing,\" said David in triumph. \"I saw the bare palm.\"\n\n\"It is strange.\"\n\n\"You are wrong. Admit it.\"\n\n\"I must think, David.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the master kindly. \"Here is my hand. Rise, and come with me\nto your house.\"\n\nThey went slowly, slowly up the terrace, Abraham clinging to the arm of\nthe master.\n\n\"Also,\" said David, \"he has come for only a little time. He will soon be\ngone. Speak no more of Benjamin.\"\n\n\"I have already spoken almost enough,\" said Abraham. \"You will not\nforget.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER SIXTEEN_\n\n\nAlthough David was smiling when he left Abraham, he was serious when he\nturned from the door of the old man. He went to Connor's room, it was\nempty. He summoned Zacharias.\n\n\"The men beyond the mountains are weak,\" said David, \"and when I left\nhim a little time since Benjamin was sighing and sleepy. But now he is\nnot in his room. Where is he, Zacharias?\"\n\n\"Shakra came into the patio and neighed,\" Zacharias answered, \"and at\nthat Benjamin came out, rubbing his eyes. 'My friend,' said he to me,\nand his voice was smooth--not like those voices--\"\n\n\"Peace, Zacharias,\" said David. \"Leave this talk of his voice and tell\nme where he is gone.\"\n\n\"Away from the house,\" said the old man sullenly.\n\nThe master knitted his brows.\n\n\"You old men,\" he said, \"are like yearlings who feel the sap running in\ntheir legs in the spring. You talk as they run--around and around.\nContinue.\"\n\nZacharias sulked as if he were on the verge of not speaking at all. But\npresently his eye lighted with his story.\n\n\"Benjamin,\" he went on, \"said to me, 'My friend, that is a noble mare.'\n\n\"'She is a good filly,' said I.\n\n\"'With a hundred and ten up,' said Benjamin, 'she would make a fast\ntrack talk.'\"\n\n\"What?\" said David.\n\n\"I do not know the meaning of his words,\" said the old servant, \"but I\nhave told them as he said them.\"\n\n\"He is full of strange terms,\" murmured David. \"Continue.\"\n\n\"He went first to one side of Shakra and then to the other. He put his\nhand into his coat and seemed to think. Presently he stretched out his\nhand and called her. She came to him slowly.\"\n\n\"Wonderful!\"\n\n\"That was my thought,\" nodded Zacharias.\n\n\"Why do you stop?\" cried David.\n\n\"Because I am talking around and around, like a running yearling,\" said\nZacharias ironically. \"However, he stood back at length and combed the\nforelock of Shakra with his fingers. 'Tell me, Zacharias,' he said, 'if\nthis is not the sister of Glani?'\"\n\n\"He guessed so much? It is strange!\"\n\n\"Then he looked in her mouth and said that she was four years old.\"\n\n\"He is wise in horses, indeed.\"\n\n\"When he turned away Shakra followed him; he went to his room and came\nout again, carrying the saddle with which he rode Abra. He put this on\nher back and a rope around her neck. 'Will the master be angry if I ride\nher?' he asked.\n\n\"I told him that she was first ridden only three months before to-day,\nand that she must not be ridden more than fifty miles now in a day.\n\n\"He looked a long time at me, then said he would not ride farther than\nthat. Then he went galloping down the road to the south.\"\n\n\"Good!\" said the master, and sent a long whistle from the patio; it was\npitched as shrill and small as the scream of a hawk when the hawk itself\ncannot be seen in the sky.\n\nZacharias ran into the house, and when he came out again bringing a pad\nGlani was already in the patio.\n\nDavid took the pad and cinched it on the back of the stallion.\n\n\"And when Shakra began to gallop,\" said Zacharias, \"Benjamin cried out.\"\n\n\"What did he say?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\n\"Zacharias, men do not cry out without speaking.\"\n\n\"Nevertheless,\" said Zacharias, \"it was like the cry of a wolf when they\nhunt along the cliffs in winter and see the young horses and the cattle\nin the Garden below them. It was a cry, and there was no spoken word in\nit.\"\n\nThe master bit his lip.\n\n\"Abraham has been talking folly to you,\" he said; and, springing on the\nback of the stallion, he raced out of the patio and on to the south road\nwith his long, black hair whipping straight out behind his head.\n\nAt length the southern wall rose slowly over the trees, and a deep\nmurmur which had begun about them as soon as they left the house, light\nas the humming of bees, increasing as they went down the valley, now\nbecame a great rushing noise. It was like a great wind in sound; one\nexpected the push of a gale, coming out from the trees, but there was\nonly the river which ran straight at the cliff, split solid rock, and\nshot out of sunlight into a black cavern. Beside this gaping mouth of\nrock stood Connor with Shakra beside him. Twice the master called, but\nConnor could not hear.\n\nThe tumbling river would have drowned a volley of musketry. Only when\nDavid touched his shoulder did Connor turn a gloomy face. They took\ntheir horses across the bridge which passed over the river a little\ndistance from the cliff, and rode down the farther side of the valley\nuntil the roar sank behind them. A few barriers of trees reduced it to\nthe humming which on windless days was picked up by echoes and reached\nthe house of David with a solemn murmur.\n\n\"I thought you would rest,\" said David, when they were come to a place\nof quiet, and the horses cantered lightly over the road with that\npeculiar stride, at once soft and reaching, which Connor was beginning\nto see as the chief characteristic of the Eden Gray.\n\n\"I have rested more in two minutes on the back of Shakra than I could\nrest in two hours on my bed.\"\n\nIt was like disarming a father by praise of his son.\n\n\"She has a gentle gait,\" smiled David.\n\n\"I tell you, man, she's a knockout!\"\n\n\"A knockout?\"\n\nThe gambler added hastily: \"Next to Glani the best horse I have seen.\"\n\n\"You are right. Next to Glani the best in the valley.\"\n\n\"In the world,\" said Connor, and then gave a cry of wonder.\n\nThey had come through an avenue of the eucalyptus trees, and now they\nreached an open meadow, beyond which aspens trembled and flashed silver\nunder a shock from the wind. Half the meadow was black, half green; for\none of the old men was plowing. He turned a rich furrow behind him, and\nthe blackbirds followed in chattering swarms in their hunt for worms.\nThe plow team was a span of slender-limbed Eden Grays. They walked\nlightly with plow, shaking their heads at the blackbirds, and sometimes\nthey touched noses in that cheery, dumb conversation of horses. The plow\nturned down the field with the sod curling swiftly behind. The\nblackbirds followed. There were soldier-wings among them making flashes\nof red, and all the swarm scolded.\n\n\"David,\" said Connor when he could speak, \"you might as well harness\nlightning to your plow. Why in the name of God, man, don't you get mules\nfor this work?\"\n\nThe master looked to the ground, for he was angered.\n\n\"It is not against His will that I work them at the plow,\" he answered.\n\"He has not warned me against it.\"\n\n\"Who hasn't?\"\n\n\"Our Father whose name you spoke. Look! They are not unhappy, Jurith and\nRajima, of the blood of Aliriz.\"\n\nHe whistled, whereat the off mare tossed her head and whinnied.\n\n\"By Heaven, she knows you at this distance!\" gasped Connor.\n\n\"Which is only to say that she is not a fool. Did I not sit with her\nthree days and three nights when she was first foaled? That was\ntwenty-five years ago; I was a child then.\"\n\nConnor, staring after the high, proud head of Jurith, sighed. The horses\nstarted on at a walk which was the least excellent gait in the Eden\nGrays. Their high croups and comparatively low withers, their long\nhindlegs and the shorter forelegs, gave them a waddling motion with the\nhind quarters apparently huddling the forehand along.\n\nIndeed, they seemed designed in every particular for the gallop alone.\nBut Glani was an exception. Just as in size he appeared a freak among\nthe others, so in his gaits all things were perfectly proportioned.\nConnor, with a deep, quiet delight, watched the big stallion stepping\nfreely. Shakra had to break into a soft trot now and then to catch up.\n\n\"Let us walk,\" said David. \"The run is for when a man feels with the\nhawk in the sky; the gallop is for idle pleasure; the trot is an ugly\ngait, for distance only; but a walk is the gait when two men speak\ntogether. In this manner Matthew and I went up and down the valley\nroads. Alas, it is five years since I have walked my horse! Is it not,\nGlani, my king? And now, Benjamin, tell me your trouble.\"\n\n\"There is no trouble,\" said Connor.\n\nBut David smiled, saying: \"We are brothers in Glani, Benjamin. To us\nalone he has given his head. Therefore speak freely.\"\n\n\"Look back,\" said Connor, feeling that the crisis had come and that he\nmust now put his fortune to the touch.\n\nDavid turned on the stallion. \"What do you see?\"\n\n\"I see old Elijah. He drives the two mares, and the furrow follows\nthem--the blackbirds also.\"\n\n\"Do you see nothing else?\"\n\n\"I see the green meadow and the sky with a cloud in it; I see the river\nyonder and the aspens flash as the wind strikes them.\"\n\n\"And do you hear nothing?\"\n\n\"I hear the falling of the Jordan and the cry of the birds. Also, Elijah\nhas just spoken to Rajima. Ah, she is lazy for a daughter of Aliriz!\"\n\n\"Do you wish to know what I see and hear, David?\"\n\n\"If it is your pleasure, brother.\"\n\n\"I see a blue sky like this, with the wind and the clouds in it and all\nthat stuff--\"\n\n\"All of what?\"\n\n\"And I see also,\" continued Connor, resolving to watch his tongue,\n\"thousands of people, acres of men and women.\"\n\nDavid was breathless with interest. He had a way of opening his eyes and\nhis mind like a child.\n\n\"We are among them; they jostle us; we can scarcely breathe. There is a\ngreen lawn below us; we cannot see the green, it is so thickly covered\nwith men. They have pulled out their wallets and they have money in\ntheir hands.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" muttered David. \"For my thoughts swim in those waves of\nfaces.\"\n\n\"I see,\" went on Connor, \"a great oval road fenced on each side, with\ncolored posts at intervals. I see horses in a line, dancing up and down,\nturning about--\"\n\n\"Ah, horses!\"\n\n\"Kicking at each other.\"\n\n\"So? Are there such bad manners among them?\"\n\n\"But what each man is trembling for, and what each man has risked his\nmoney upon, is this question: Which of all those is the fastest horse?\nThink! The horses which fret in that line are the finest money can buy.\nTheir blood lines are longer than the blood lines of kings. They are\nall fine muscles and hair-trigger nerves. They are poised for the start.\nAnd now--\"\n\n\"Benjamin, is there such love of horses over the mountains? Listen!\nFifty thousand men and women breathe with those racers.\"\n\n\"I know.\" There was a glint in the eyes of David. \"When two horses match\ntheir speed--\"\n\n\"Some men have wagered all their money. They have borrowed, they have\nstolen, to get what they bet. But there are two men only who bet on one\nof the horses. You, David, and I!\"\n\n\"Ha? But money is hard to come by.\"\n\n\"We ask them the odds,\" continued Connor. \"For one dollar we shall take\na hundred if our horse wins--odds of a hundred to one! And we wager. We\nwager the value of all we have. We wager the value of the Garden of Eden\nitself!\"\n\n\"It is madness, Benjamin!\"\n\n\"Look closer! See them at the post. There's the Admiral. There's\nFidgety--that tall chestnut. There's Glorious Polly--the little bay. The\ngreatest stake horses in the country. The race of the year. But the\nhorse we bet on, David, is a horse which none of the rest in that crowd\nknows. It is a horse whose pedigree is not published. It is a small\nhorse, not more than fourteen-three. It stands perfectly still in the\nmidst of that crowd of nervous racers. On its back is an old man.\"\n\n\"But can the horse win? And who is the old man?\"\n\n\"On the other horses are boys who have starved until they are wisps with\nonly hands for the reins of a horse and knees to keep on his back. They\nhave stirrups so short that they seem to be floating above the racers.\nBut on the back of the horse on which we are betting there is only an\nold, old man, sitting heavily.\"\n\n\"His name! His name!\" David cried.\n\n\"Elijah! And the horse is Jurith!\"\n\n\"No, no! Withdraw the bets! She is old.\"\n\n\"They are off! The gray mare is not trained for the start. She is left\nstanding far behind.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" David groaned.\n\n\"Fifty thousand people laughing at the old gray mare left at the post!\"\n\n\"I see it! I hear it!\"\n\n\"She's too short in front; too high behind. She's a joke horse. And see\nthe picture horses! Down the back stretch! The fifty thousand have\nforgotten the gray, even to laugh at her. The pack drives into the home\nstretch. There's a straight road to the finish. They straighten out.\nThey get their feet. They're off for the wire!\"\n\nThe voice of Connor had risen to a shrill cry. \"But look! Look! There's\na streak of gray coming around the turn. It's the mare! It's old\nJurith!\"\n\n\"Jurith!\"\n\n\"No awkwardness now! She spreads herself out and the posts disappear\nbeside her. She stretches down low and the rest come back to her. Fine\nhorses; they run well. But Jurith is a racing machine. She's on the hip\nof the pack! Look at the old man all the thousand were laughing at. He\nsits easily in the saddle. He has no whip. His reins are loose. And then\nhe uses the posts ahead of him. He leans over and speaks one word in the\near of the gray mare.\n\n\"By the Lord, she was walking before; she was cantering! Now she runs!\nNow she runs! And the fifty thousand are dumb, white. A solid wall of\nfaces covered with white-wash! D'you see? They're sick! And then all at\nonce they know they're seeing a miracle. They have been standing up\never since the horses entered the home-stretch. Now they climb on one\nanother's shoulders. They forget all about thousands--the hundreds of\nthousands of dollars which they are going to lose. They only know that\nthey are seeing a great horse. And they love that new, great horse. They\nscream as they see her come. Women break into tears as the old man\nshoots past the grand stand. Men shriek and hug each other. They dance.\n\n\"The gray streak shoots on. She is past the others. She is rushing for\nthe finish wire as no horse ever ran before. She is away. One length,\ntwo lengths, six lengths of daylight show between her and the rest. She\ngallops past the finish posts with Elijah looking back at the others!\n\n\"She has won! You have won, David. I have won. We are rich. Happy. The\nworld's before us. David, do you see?\"\n\n\"Is it possible? But no, Benjamin, not Jurith. Some other, perhaps,\nShakra--Glani--\"\n\n\"No, we would take Jurith--twenty-five years old!\"\n\nConnor's last words trailed off into hysterical laughter.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER SEVENTEEN_\n\n\nDavid was still flushed with the excitement of the tale, and he was\nperplexed and troubled when Connor's strange, high laughter brought to\nan abrupt end the picture they had both lived in.\n\nThe gambler saw the frown on David's brow, and with an effort he made\nhimself suddenly grave, though he was still pale and shaking.\n\n\"David, this is the reason Jurith can win. Somewhere in the past there\nwas a freak gray horse. There are other kinds of freaks; oranges had\nseeds in 'em; all at once up pops a tree that has seedless fruit. People\nplant shoots from it. There you have the naval orange, all out of one\ntree. It's the same way with that gray horse. It was a freak; had a high\ncroup and muscles as stretchy as India-rubber, and strong--like the\ndifference between the muscles of a mule and the muscles of most horses.\nThat's what that first horse was. He was bred and the get came into this\nvalley. They kept improving--and the result is Glani! The Eden Gray,\nDavid, is the finest horse in the world because it's a _different_ and a\nbetter horse!\"\n\nThe master paused for some time, and Connor knew he was deep in thought.\nFinally he spoke:\n\n\"But if we know the speed of the Eden Grays, why should we go out into\nthe world and take the money of other men because they do not know how\nfast our horses run?\"\n\nConnor made sure the master was serious and nerved himself for the\nsecond effort.\n\n\"What do you wish, David?\"\n\n\"In what measure, Benjamin?\"\n\n\"The sky's the limit! I say, what do you wish? The last wish that was in\nyour head.\"\n\n\"Shakra stumbled a little while ago; I wished for a smoother road.\"\n\n\"David, with the money we win on the tracks we'll tear up these roads,\ncut trenches, fill 'em with solid blocks of rock, lay 'em over with\nasphalt, make 'em as smooth as glass! What else?\"\n\n\"You jest, Benjamin. That is a labor for a thousand men.\"\n\n\"I say, it's nothing to what we'll do. What else do you want? Turn your\nmind loose--open up your eyes and see something that's hard to get.\"\n\n\"Every wish is a regret, and why should I fail of gratitude to God by\nmaking my wishes? Yet, I have been weak, I confess. I have sometimes\nloathed the crumbling walls of my house. I have wished for a tall\nchamber--on the floor a covering which makes no sound, colors about\nme--crystal vases for my flowers--music when I come--\"\n\n\"Stop there! You see that big white cliff? I'll have that stone cut in\nchunks as big as you and your horse put together. I'll have 'em piled on\na foundation as strong as the bottom of those hills. You see the way\nthose mountain-tops walk into the sky? That's how the stairways will\nstep up to the front of your house and put you out on a big terrace with\ncolumns scooting up fifty feet, and when you walk across the terrace a\ncouple of great big doors weighing about a ton apiece will drift open\nand make a whisper when you mosey in. And when you get inside you'll\nstart looking up and up, but you'll get dizzy before your eyes hit the\nceiling; and up there you'll see a lighting stunt that looks like a\nmillion icicles with the sun behind 'em.\"\n\nHe paused an instant for breath and saw David smiling in a hazy\npleasure.\n\n\"I follow you,\" he said softly. \"Go on!\" And his hand stretched out as\nthough to open a door.\n\n\"What I've told you about is only a beginning. Turn yourself loose;\ndream, and I'll turn your dream into stone and color, and fill up your\nwindows with green and gold and red glass till you'll think a rainbow\nhas got all tangled up there! I'll give you music that'll make you\nforget to think, and when you think I'll give you a room so big that\nyou'll have silence with an echo to it.\"\n\n\"All this for my horses?\"\n\n\"Send one of the grays--just one, and let me place the wagers. You don't\neven have to risk your own money. I've made a slough of it betting on\nthings that weren't lead pipe cinches like this. I made on Fidgety\nMidget at fifty to one. I made on Gosham at eight to one. Nobody told me\nhow to bet on 'em. I know a horse--that's all! You stay in the Garden; I\ntake one of the grays; I bring her back in six months with more coin\nthan she can pack, and we split it fifty-fifty. You furnish the horse. I\nfurnish the jack. Is it a go?\"\n\nA bird stopped above them, whistled and dipped away over the treetops.\nDavid turned his head to follow the trailing song, and Connor realized\nwith a sick heart that he had failed to sweep his man off his feet.\n\n\"Would you have me take charity?\" asked David at length.\n\nIt seemed to Connor that there was a smile behind this. He himself burst\ninto a roar of laughter.\n\n\"Sure, it sounds like charity. They'll be making you a gift right\nenough. There isn't a horse on the turf that has a chance with one of\nthe grays! But they'll bet their money like fools.\"\n\n\"Would it not be a sin, then?\"\n\n\"What sin?\" asked Connor roughly. \"Don't they grab the coin of other\npeople? Does the bookie ask you how much coin you have and if you can\nafford to lose it? No, he's out to get all that he can grab. And we'll\ngo out and do some grabbing in turn. Oh, they'll squeal when we turn the\nscrew, but they'll kick through with the jack. No fear, Davie!\"\n\n\"Whatever sins may be theirs, Benjamin, those sins need not be mine.\"\n\nConnor was dumb.\n\n\"Because they are foolish,\" said David, \"should I take advantage of\ntheir folly? A new man comes into the valley. He sees Jurith, and\nnotices that she runs well in spite of her years. He says to me: 'This\nmare will run faster than your stallion. I have money and this ring\nupon my finger which I will risk against one dollar of your money; If\nthe mare beats Glani I take your dollar. If Glani beats the mare, you\ntake my purse and my ring; I have no other wealth. It will ruin me, but\nI am willing to be ruined if Jurith is not faster than Glani.\n\n\"Suppose such foolish man were to come to me, Benjamin, would I not say\nto him: 'No, my friend. For I understand better than you, both Jurith\nand Glani!' Tell me therefore, Benjamin, that you have tempted me toward\na sin, unknowing.\"\n\nIt made Connor think of the stubbornness of a woman, or of a priest. It\nwas a quiet assurance which could only be paralleled from a basis of\nreligion or instinct. He knew the danger of pressing too hard upon this\ninstinct or blind faith. He swallowed an oath, and answered, remembering\ndim lessons out of his childhood:\n\n\"Tell me, David, my brother, is there no fire to burn fools? Is there no\nrod for the shoulders of the proud? Should not such men be taught?\"\n\n\"And I say to you, Benjamin,\" said the master of the Garden: \"what wrong\nhave these fools done to me with their folly?\"\n\nConnor felt that he was being swept beyond his depth. The other went on,\nchanging his voice to gentleness:\n\n\"No, no! I have even a kindness for men with such blind faith in their\nhorses. When Jacob comes to me and says privately in my ear: 'David,\nlook at Hira. Is she not far nobler and wiser than Ephraim's horse,\nNuman?' When he says this to me, do I shake my head and frown and say:\n'Risk the clothes on your back and the food you eat to prove what you\nsay.' No, assuredly I do neither of these things, but I put my hand on\nhis shoulder and I say: 'He who has faith shall do great things; and a\ntender master makes a strong colt.' In this manner I speak to him,\nknowing that truth is good, but the whole truth is sometimes a fire that\npurifies, perhaps, but it also destroys. So Jacob goes smiling on his\nway and gives kind words and fine oats to Hira.\"\n\nConnor turned the flank of this argument.\n\n\"These men are blind. You say that your horses can run a mile in such\nand such a time, and they shrug their shoulders and answer that they\nhave heard such chatter before--from trainers and stable boys. But you\nput your horse on a race track and prove what you say, and they pay for\nknowledge. Once they see the truth they come to value your horses. You\nopen a stud and your breed is crossed with theirs. The blood of Rustir,\npassing through the blood of Glani, goes among the best horses of the\nworld. A hundred years from now there will be no good horse in the\nworld, of which men do not ask: 'Is the blood of Glani in him? Is he of\nthe line of the Eden Grays?' Consider that, David!\"\n\nHe found the master of the Garden frowning. He pressed home the point\nwith renewed vigor.\n\n\"If you live in this valley, David, what will men know of you?\"\n\n\"Have you come to take me out of the Garden of Eden?\"\n\n\"I have come to make your influence pass over the mountains while you\nstay here. A hundred years from now who will know David of the Garden of\nEden? Of the men who used to live here, who remains? Not one! Where do\nthey live now? Inside your head, inside your head, David, and no other\nplace!\"\n\n\"They live with God,\" said David hoarsely.\n\n\"But here on earth they don't live at all except in your mind. And when\nyou die, they die with you. But if you let me do what I say, a thousand\nyears from to-day, people will be saying: 'There was a man named David,\nand he had these gray horses, which were the finest in the world, and he\ngave their blood to the world.' They'll pick up every detail of your\nlife, and they'll trace back the horses--\"\n\n\"Do I live for the sake of a horse?\" cried David, in a voice unnaturally\nhigh.\n\n\"No, but because of your horses the world will ask what sort of a man\nyou are. People will follow your example. They'll build a hundred\nGardens of Eden. Every one of those valleys will be full of the memories\nof David and the men who went before him. Then, David, you'll never\ndie!\"\n\nIt was the highest flight to which Connor's eloquence ever attained. The\nresults were alarming. David spoke, without facing his companion,\nthoughtfully.\n\n\"Benjamin, I have been warned. By sin the gate to the Garden was opened,\nand perhaps sin has entered in you. For why did the first men withdraw\nto this valley, led by John, save to live apart, perfect lives? And you,\nBenjamin, wish to undo all that they accomplished.\"\n\n\"Only the horses,\" said the gambler. \"Who spoke of taking you out of the\nGarden?\"\n\nStill David would not look at him.\n\n\"God grant me His light,\" said the master sadly. \"You have stirred and\ntroubled me. If the horses go, my mind goes with them. Benjamin, you\nhave tempted me. Yet another thing is in my mind. When Matthew came to\ndie he took me beside him and said:\n\n\"'David, it is not well that you should lead a lonely life. Man is made\nto live, and not to die. Take to yourself a woman, when I am gone, wed\nher, and have children, so that the spirit of John and Matthew and Luke\nand Paul shall not die. And do this in your youth, before five years\nhave passed you by.'\n\n\"So spoke Matthew, and this is the fifth year. And perhaps the Lord\nworks in you to draw me out, that I may find this woman. Or perhaps it\nis only a spirit of evil that speaks in you. How shall I judge? For my\nmind whirls!\"\n\nAs if to flee from his thoughts, the master of the Garden called on\nGlani, and the stallion broke into a full gallop. Shakra followed at a\npace that took the breath of Connor, but instantly she began to fall\nbehind; before they had reached the lake Glani was out of sight across\nthe bridge.\n\nFull of alarm--full of hope also--Connor reached the house. In the patio\nhe found Zacharias standing with folded arms before a door.\n\n\"I must find David at once,\" he told Zacharias. \"Where has he gone?\"\n\n\"Up,\" said the servant, and pointed solemnly above him.\n\n\"Nonsense!\" He added impatiently: \"Where shall I find him, Zacharias?\"\n\nBut again Zacharias waved to the blue sky.\n\n\"His body is in this room, but his mind is with Him above the world.\"\n\nThere was something in this that made Connor uneasy as he had never been\nbefore.\n\n\"You may go into any room save the Room of Silence,\" continued\nZacharias, \"but into this room only David and the four before him have\nbeen. This is the holy place.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER EIGHTEEN_\n\n\nGlani waited in the patio for the reappearance of the master, and as\nConnor paced with short, nervous steps on the grass at every turn he\ncaught the flash of the sun on the stallion. Above his selfish greed he\nhad one honest desire: he would have paid with blood to see the great\nhorse face the barrier. That, however was beyond the reach of his\nambition, and therefore the beauty of Glani was always a hopeless\ntorment.\n\nThe quiet in the patio oddly increased his excitement. It was one of\nthose bright, still days when the wind stirs only in soft breaths,\nbringing a sense of the open sky. Sometimes the breeze picked up a\nhandful of drops from the fountain and showered it with a cool rustling\non the grass. Sometimes it flared the tail of Glani; sometimes the\nshadow of the great eucalyptus which stood west of the house quivered on\nthe turf.\n\nConnor found himself looking minutely at trivial things, and in the\nmeantime David Eden in his room was deciding the fate of the American\nturf. Even Glani seemed to know, for his glance never stirred from the\ndoor through which the master had disappeared. What a horse the big\nfellow was! He thought of the stallion in the paddock at the track. He\nheard the thousands swarm and the murmur which comes deep out of a man's\nthroat when he sees a great horse.\n\nThe palms of Connor were wet with sweat. He kept rubbing them dry on the\nhips of his trousers. Rehearsing his talk with David, he saw a thousand\nflaws, and a thousand openings which he had missed. Then all thought\nstopped; David had come out into the patio.\n\nHe came straight to Connor, smiling, and he said:\n\n\"The words were a temptation, but the mind that conceived them was not\nthe mind of a tempter.\"\n\nIneffable assurance and good will shone in his face, and Connor cursed\nhim silently.\n\n\"I, leaving the valley, might be lost in the torrent. And neither the\nworld nor I should profit. But if I stay here, at least one soul is\nsaved to God.\"\n\n\"Your own?\" muttered Connor. But he managed to smile above his rage.\n\"And after you,\" he concluded, \"what of the horses, David?\"\n\n\"My sons shall have them.\"\n\n\"And if you have no sons?\"\n\n\"Before my death I shall kill all of the horses. They are not meant for\nother men than the sons of David.\"\n\nThe gambler drew off his hat and raised his face to the sky, asking\nmutely if Heaven would permit this crime.\n\n\"Yet,\" said David, \"I forgive you.\"\n\n\"You forgive me?\" echoed Connor through his teeth.\n\n\"Yes, for the fire of the temptation has burned out. Let us forget the\nworld beyond the mountains.\"\n\n\"What is your proof that you are right in staying here?\"\n\n\"The voice of God.\"\n\n\"You have spoken to Him, perhaps?\"\n\nThe irony passed harmless by the raised head of David.\n\n\"I have spoken to Him,\" he asserted calmly.\n\n\"I see,\" nodded the gambler. \"You keep Him in that room, no doubt?\"\n\n\"It is true. His spirit is in the Room of Silence.\"\n\n\"You've seen His face?\"\n\nA numbness fell on the mind of Connor as he saw his hopes destroyed by\nthe demon of bigotry.\n\n\"Only His voice has come to me,\" said David.\n\n\"It speaks to you?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nConnor stared in actual alarm, for this was insanity.\n\n\"The four,\" said David, \"spoke to Him always in that room. He is there.\nAnd when Matthew died he gave me this assurance--that while the walls of\nthis house stood together God would not desert me or fail to come to me\nin that room until I love another thing more than I love God.\"\n\n\"And how, David, do you hear the voice? For while you were there I was\nin the patio, close by, and yet I heard no whisper of a sound from the\nroom.\"\n\n\"I shall tell you. When I entered the Room of Silence just now your\nwords had set me on fire. My mind was hot with desire of power over\nother men. I forgot the palace you built for me with your promises. And\nthen I knew that it had been a temptation to sin from which the voice\nwas freeing me.\n\n\"Could a human voice have spoken more clearly than that voice spoke to\nmy heart? Anxiously I called before my eyes the image of Benjamin to ask\nfor His judgment, but your face remained an unclouded vision and was not\ndimmed by the will of the Lord as He dims creatures of evil in the Room\nof Silence. Thereby I knew that you are indeed my brother.\"\n\nThe brain of Connor groped slowly in the rear of these words. He was too\nstunned by disappointment to think clearly, but vaguely he made out that\nDavid had dismissed the argument and was now asking him to come for a\nwalk by the lake.\n\n\"The lake's well enough,\" he answered, \"but it occurs to me that I've\ngot to get on with my journey.\"\n\n\"You must leave me?\"\n\nThere was such real anxiety in his voice that Connor softened a little.\n\n\"I've got a lot to do,\" he explained. \"I only stopped over to rest my\nnags, in the first place. Then this other idea came along, but since the\nvoice has rapped it there's nothing for me to do but to get on my way\nagain.\"\n\n\"It is a long trip?\"\n\n\"Long enough.\"\n\n\"The Garden of Eden is a lonely place.\"\n\n\"You'll have the voice to cheer you up.\"\n\n\"The voice is an awful thing. There is no companionship in it. This\nthought comes to me. Leave the mule and the horse. Take Shakra. She will\ncarry you swiftly and safely over the mountains and bring you back\nagain. And I shall be happy to know that she is with you while you are\naway. Then go, brother, if you must, and return in haste.\"\n\nIt was the opening of the gates of heaven to Connor at the very moment\nwhen he had surrendered the last hope. He heard David call the servants,\nheard an order to bring Shakra saddled at once. The canteen was being\nfilled for the journey. Into the incredulous mind of the gambler the\ntruth filtered by degrees, as candlelight probes a room full of\ntreasure, flashing ever and anon into new corners filled with\nundiscovered riches.\n\nShakra was his to ride over the mountains. And why stop there? There was\nno mark on her, and his brand would make her his. She would be safe in\nan Eastern racing stable before they even dreamed of pursuit. And when\nher victories on the track had built his fortune he could return her,\nand raise a breed of peerless horses. A theft? Yes, but so was the\nstealing of the fire from heaven for the use of mankind.\n\nHe would have been glad to leave the Garden of Eden at once, but that\nwas not in David's scheme of things. To him a departure into the world\nbeyond the mountains was as a voyage into an uncharted sea. His dignity\nkept him from asking questions, but it was obvious that he was painfully\nanxious to learn the necessity of Connor's going.\n\nThat night in the patio he held forth at length of the things they would\ndo together when the gambler returned. \"The Garden is a book,\" he\nexplained. \"And I must teach you to turn the pages and read in them.\"\n\nThere was little sleep for Connor that night. He lay awake, turning over\nthe possibilities of a last minute failure, and when he finally dropped\ninto a deep, aching slumber it was to be awakened almost at once by the\nvoice of David calling in the patio. He wakened and found it was the\npink of the dawn.\n\n\"Shakra waits at the gate of the patio. Start early, Benjamin, and\nthereby you will return soon.\"\n\nIt brought Connor to his feet with a leap. As if he required urging!\nThrough the hasty breakfast he could not retain his joyous laughter\nuntil he saw David growing thoughtful. But that breakfast was over, and\nDavid's kind solicitations, at length. Shakra was brought to him; his\nfeet were settled into the stirrups, and the dream changed to a sense of\nthe glorious reality. She was his--Shakra!\n\n\"A journey of happiness for your sake and a speed for mine, Benjamin.\"\n\nConnor looked down for the last time into the face of the master of the\nGarden, half wild and half calm--the face of a savage with the mind of a\nman behind it. \"If he should take my trail!\" he thought with horror.\n\n\"Good-by!\" he called aloud, and in a burst of joy and sudden\ncompunction, \"God bless you, David!\"\n\n\"He has blessed me already, for He has given to me a friend.\"\n\nA touch of the rope--for no Eden Gray would endure a bit--whirled Shakra\nand sent her down the terraces like the wind. The avenue of the\neucalyptus trees poured behind them, and out of this, with astonishing\nsuddenness, they reached the gate.\n\nThe fire already burned, for the night was hardly past, and Joseph\nsquatted with the thin smoke blowing across his face unheeded. He was\ngrinning with savage hatred and muttering.\n\nConnor knew what profound curse was being called down upon his head, but\nhe had only a careless glance for Joseph. His eye up yonder where the\nfull morning shone on the mountains, his mind was out in the world, at\nthe race track, seeing in prospect beautiful Shakra fleeing away from\nthe finest of the thoroughbreds. And he saw the face of Ruth, as her\neyes would light at the sight of Shakra. He could have burst into song.\n\nConnor looking forward, high-headed, threw up his arm with a low shout,\nand Shakra burst into full gallop down the ravine.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER NINETEEN_\n\n\nWhen Ruth Manning read the note through for the first time she raised\nher glance to the bearer. The boy was so sun-blackened that the paler\nskin of the eyelids made his eyes seem supremely large. He was now\npoised accurately on one foot, rubbing his calloused heel up and down\nhis shin, while he drank in the particulars of the telegraph office. He\ncould hardly be a party to a deception. She looked over the note again,\nand read:\n\n     DEAR MISS MANNING:\n\n     I am a couple of miles out of Lukin, in a place to which the\n     bearer of this note will bring you. I am sure you will come,\n     for I am in trouble, out of which you can very easily help me.\n     It is a matter which I cannot confide to any other person in\n     Lukin. I am impatiently expecting you.\n\n     BEN CONNOR.\n\nShe crumpled the note in her hand thoughtfully, but, on the verge of\ndropping it in the waste basket, she smoothed it again, and for the\nthird time went over the contents. Then she rose abruptly and confided\nher place to the lad who idled at the counter.\n\n\"The wire's dead,\" she told him. \"Besides, I'll be back in an hour or\nso.\"\n\nAnd she rode off a moment later with the boy. He had a blanket-pad\nwithout stirrups, and he kept prodding the sliding elbows of the horse\nwith his bare toes while he chattered at Ruth, for the drum of the\nsounder had fascinated him and he wanted it explained. She listened to\nhim with a smile of inattention, for she was thinking busily of Connor.\nThose thoughts made her look down to the dust that puffed up from the\nfeet of the horses and became a light mist behind them; then, raising\nher head, she saw the blue ravines of the farther mountains and the sun\nhaze about the crests. Connor had always been to her as the ship is to a\ntraveler; the glamour of strange places was about him.\n\nPresently they left the trail, and passing about a hillside, came to an\nold shack whose unpainted wood had blackened with time.\n\n\"There he is,\" said the boy, and waving his hand to her, turned his pony\non the back trail at a gallop.\n\nConnor called to her from the shack and came to meet her, but she had\ndismounted before he could reach the stirrup. He kept her hand in his\nfor a moment as he greeted her. It surprised him to find how glad he was\nto see her. He told her so frankly.\n\n\"After the mountains and all that,\" he said cheerfully, \"it's like\nmeeting an old chum again to see you. How have things been going?\"\n\nThis direct friendliness in a young man was something new to the girl.\nThe youths who came in to the dances at Lukin were an embarrassed lot\nwho kept a sulky distance, as though they made it a matter of pride to\nshow they were able to resist the attraction of a pretty girl. But if\nshe gave them the least encouragement, the merest shadow of a friendly\nsmile, they were at once all eagerness. They would flock around her,\nsending savage glances to one another, and simpering foolishly at her.\nThey had stock conversation of politeness; they forced out prodigious\ncompliments to an accompaniment of much writhing. Social conversation\nwas a torture to them, and the girl knew it.\n\nNot that she despised them. She understood perfectly well that most of\nthem were fine fellows and strong men. But their talents had been\ncultivated in roping two-year-olds and bulldogging yearlings. They could\nencounter the rush of a mad bull far more easily than they could\nwithstand a verbal quip. With the familiarity of years, she knew, they\nlost both their sullenness and their starched politeness. They became\nkindly, gentle men with infinite patience, infinite devotion to their\n\"womenfolk.\" Homelier girls in Lukin had an easier time with them. But\nin the presence of Ruth Manning, who was a more or less celebrated\nbeauty, they were a hopeless lot. In short, she had all her life been in\nan amphibious position, of the mountain desert and yet not of the\nmountain desert. On the one hand she despised the \"slick dudes\" who now\nand again drifted into Lukin with marvelous neckties and curiously\npatterned clothes; on the other hand, something in her revolted at the\nthought of becoming one of the \"womenfolk.\"\n\nAs a matter of fact, there are two things which every young girl should\nhave. The first is the presence of a mother, which is the oldest of\ntruisms; the second is the friendship of at least one man of nearly her\nown age. Ruth had neither. That is the crying hurt of Western life. The\nmen are too busy to bother with women until the need for a wife and a\nhome and children, and all the physical destiny of a man, overwhelms\nthem. When they reach this point there is no selection. The first girl\nthey meet they make love to.\n\nAnd most of this Ruth understood. She wanted to make some of those\nlumbering, fearless, strong-handed, gentle-souled men her friends. But\nshe dared not make the approaches. The first kind word or the first\nwinning smile brought forth a volley of tremendous compliments, close on\nthe heels of which followed the heavy artillery of a proposal of\nmarriage. No wonder that she was rejoiced beyond words to meet this\nfrank friendliness in Ben Connor. And what a joy to be able to speak\nback freely, without putting a guard over eyes and voice!\n\n\"Things have gone on just the same--but I've missed you a lot!\"\n\n\"That's good to hear.\"\n\n\"You see,\" she explained, \"I've been living in Lukin with just half a\nmind--the rest of it has been living off the wire. And you're about the\nonly interesting thing that's come to me except in the Morse.\"\n\nAnd what a happiness to see that there was no stiffening of his glance\nas he tried to read some profound meaning into her words! He accepted\nthem as they were, with a good-natured laughter that warmed her heart.\n\n\"Sit down over here,\" he went on, spreading a blanket over a chairlike\narrangement of two boulders. \"You look tired out.\"\n\nShe accepted with a smile, and letting her head go back against the\nupper edge of the blanket she closed her eyes for a moment and permitted\nher mind to drift into utter relaxation.\n\n\"I _am_ tired,\" she whispered. It was inexpressibly pleasant to lie\nthere with the sense of being guarded by this man. \"They never guess how\ntired I get--never--never! I feel--I feel--as if I were living under the\nwhip all the time.\"\n\n\"Steady up, partner.\" He had picked up that word in the mountains, and\nhe liked it. \"Steady, partner. Everybody has to let himself go. You tell\nme what's wrong. I may not be able to fix anything, but it always helps\nto let off steam.\"\n\nShe heard him sit down beside her, and for an instant, though her eyes\nwere still closed, she stiffened a little, fearful that he would touch\nher hand, attempt a caress. Any other man in Lukin would have become\nfamiliar long ago. But Connor did not attempt to approach her.\n\n\"Turn and turn about,\" he was saying smoothly. \"When I went into your\ntelegraph office the other night my nerves were in a knot. Tell you\nstraight I never knew I _had_ real nerves before. I went in ready to\ncurse like a drunk. When I saw you, it straightened me out. By the Lord,\nit was like a cool wind in my face. You were so steady, Ruth; straight\neyes; and it ironed out the wrinkles to hear your voice. I blurted out a\nlot of stuff. But when I remembered it later on I wasn't ashamed. I knew\nyou'd understand. Besides, I knew that what I'd said would stop with\nyou. Just about one girl in a million who can keep her mouth shut--and\neach one of 'em is worth her weight in gold. You did me several thousand\ndollars' worth of good that night. That's honest!\"\n\nShe allowed her eyes to open, slowly, and looked at him with a misty\ncontent. The mountains had already done him good. The sharp sun had\nflushed him a little and tinted his cheeks and strong chin with tan. He\nlooked more manly, somehow, and stronger in himself. Of course he had\nflattered her, but the feeling that she had actually helped him so much\nby merely listening on that other night wakened in her a new\nself-reverence. She was too prone to look on life as a career of manlike\nendeavor; it was pleasant to know that a woman could accomplish\nsomething even more important by simply sitting still and listening. He\nwas watching her gravely now, even though she permitted herself the\nluxury of smiling at him.\n\nAll at once she cried softly: \"Thank Heaven that you're not a fool, Ben\nConnor!\"\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\"\n\n\"I don't think I can tell you.\" She added hastily: \"I'm not trying to be\nmysterious.\"\n\nHe waved the need of an apology away.\n\n\"Tell you what. Never knew a girl yet that was worth her salt who could\nbe understood all the time, or who even understood herself.\"\n\nShe closed her eyes again to ponder this, lazily. She could not arrive\nat a conclusion, but she did not care. Missing links in this\nconversation were not vitally important.\n\n\"Take it easy, Ruth; we'll talk later on,\" he said after a time.\n\nShe did not look at him as she answered: \"Tell me why?\"\n\nThere was a sort of childlike confiding in all this that troubled Ben\nConnor. He had seen her with a mind as direct and an enthusiasm as\nstrong as that of a man. This relaxing and softening alarmed him,\nbecause it showed him another side of her, a new and vital side. She was\nvery lovely with the shadows of the sombrero brim cutting across the\nsoftness of her lips and setting aglow the clear olive tan of her chin\nand throat. Her hand lay palm upward beside her, very small, very\ndelicate in the making. But what a power was in that hand! He realized\nwith a thrill of not unmixed pleasure that if the girl set herself to\nthe task she could mold him like wax with the gestures of that hand. If\ninto the softness of her voice she allowed a single note of warmth to\ncreep, what would happen in Ben Connor? He felt within himself a chord\nready to vibrate in answer.\n\nNow he caught himself leaning a little closer to study the purple stain\nof weariness in her eyelids. Even exhaustion was attractive in her. It\nshowed something new, and newly appealing. Weariness gave merely a new\nedge to her beauty. What if her eyes, opening slowly now, were to look\nupon him not with the gentleness of friendship, but with something\nmore--the little shade of difference in a girl's wide eyes that admits a\nman to her secrets--and traps him in so doing.\n\nBen Connor drew himself up with a shake of the shoulders. He felt that\nhe must keep careful guard from now on. What a power she was. What a\npower! If she set herself to the task who could deal with her? What man\ncould keep from her? Then the picture of David jumped into his mind out\nof nothingness. And on the heels of that picture the inspiration came\nwith a sudden uplifting of the heart, surety, intoxicating insight. He\nwanted to jump to his feet and shout until the great ravine beneath them\nechoed. With an effort he remained quiet. But he was thinking\nrapidly--rapidly. He had intended to use her merely to arrange for\nshipping Shakra away from Lukin Junction. For he dared not linger about\nthe town where expert horse thieves might see the mare. But now\nsomething new, something more came to him. The girl was a power? Why not\nuse her?\n\nWhat he said was: \"Do you know why you close your eyes?\"\n\nStill without looking up she answered: \"Why?\"\n\n\"All of these mountains--you see?\" She did not see, so he went on to\ndescribe them. \"There's that big peak opposite us. Looks a hundred yards\naway, but it's two miles. Comes down in big jags and walks up into the\nsky--Lord knows how many thousand feet. And behind it the other ranges\nstepping off into the horizon with purple in the gorges and mist at the\ntops. Fine picture, eh? But hard to look at, Ruth. Mighty hard to look\nat. First thing you know you get to squinting to make out whether that's\na cactus on the side of that mountain or a hundred-foot pine tree. Might\nbe either. Can't tell the distance in this air. Well, you begin to\nsquint. That's how the people around here get that long-distance look\nbehind their eyes and the long-distance wrinkles around the corners of\ntheir eyes. All the men have those wrinkles. But the women have them,\ntoo, after a while. You'll get them after a while, Ruth. Wrinkles around\nthe eyes and wrinkles in the mind to match, eh?\"\n\nHer eyes opened at last, slowly, slowly. She smiled at him plaintively.\n\n\"Don't I know, Ben? It's a man's country. It isn't made for woman.\"\n\n\"Ah, there you've hit the nail on the head. Exactly! A man's country. Do\nyou know what it does to the women?\"\n\n\"Tell me.\"\n\n\"Makes 'em like the men. Hardens their hands after a while. Roughens\ntheir voices. Takes time, but that's what comes after a while.\nUnderstand?\"\n\n\"Oh, don't I understand!\"\n\nAnd he knew how the fear had haunted her, then, for the first time.\n\n\"What does this dry, hot wind do to you in the mountains? What does it\ndo to your skin? Takes the velvet off, after a while; makes it dry and\nhard. Lord, girl, I'd hate to see the change it's going to make in\nyou!\"\n\nAll at once she sat up, wide awake.\n\n\"What are you trying to do to me, Ben Connor?\"\n\n\"I'm trying to wake you up.\"\n\n\"I _am_ awake. But what can I do?\"\n\n\"You think you're awake, but you're not. Tell you what a girl needs, a\nstage--just like an actor. Think they can put on a play with these\nmountains for a setting? Never in the world. Make the actors look too\nsmall. Make everything they say sound too thin.\n\n\"Same way with a girl. She needs a setting. A room, a rug, a picture, a\ncomfortable chair, and a dress that goes with it. Shuts out the rest of\nthe world and gives her a chance to make a man focus on her--see her\nbehind the footlights. See?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she whispered.\n\n\"Do you know what I've been doing while I watched you just now?\"\n\n\"Tell me.\"\n\nHe was fighting for a great purpose now, and a quality of earnest\nemotion crept into his voice. \"Around your throat I've been running an\nedging of yellow old lace. Under your hand that was lying there I put a\ndeep blue velvet; I had your shoulders as white as snow, with a flash to\n'em like snow when you turned in the light; I had you proud as a queen,\nRuth, with a blur of violets at your breast. I took out the tired look\nin your face. Instead, I put in happiness.\"\n\nHe stopped and drew a long breath.\n\n\"You're pretty now, but you could be--beautiful. Lord, what a flame of a\nbeauty you could be, girl!\"\n\nInstead of flushing and smiling under the praise, he saw tears well into\nher eyes and her mouth grow tremulous. She winked the tears away.\n\n\"What are you trying to do, Ben? Make everything still harder for me?\nDon't you see I'm helpless--helpless?\"\n\nAnd instead of rising to a wail her voice sank away at the end in\ndespair.\n\n\"Oh, you're trapped well enough,\" he said. \"I'm going to bust the trap!\nI'm going to give you your setting. I'm going to make you what you ought\nto be--beautiful!\"\n\nShe smiled as at any unreal fairy tale.\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"I can show you better than I can tell you! Come here!\" He rose, and she\nwas on her feet in a flash. He led the way to the door of the shack, and\nas the shadows fell inside, Shakra tossed up her head.\n\nThe girl's bewildered joy was as great as if the horse were a present to\nher.\n\n\"Oh, you beauty, you beauty,\" she cried.\n\n\"Watch yourself,\" he warned. \"She's as wild as a mountain lion.\"\n\n\"But she knows a friend!\"\n\nShakra sniffed the outstretched hand, and then with a shake of her head\naccepted the stranger and looked over Ruth's shoulder at Connor as\nthough for an explanation. Connor himself was smiling and excited; he\ndrew her back and forgot to release her hand, so that they stood like\ntwo happy children together. He spoke very softly and rapidly, as though\nhe feared to embarrass the mare.\n\n\"Look at the head first--then the bone in the foreleg, then the length\nabove her back--see how she stands! See how she stands! And those black\nhoofs, hard as iron, I tell you--put the four of 'em in my double hands,\nalmost--ever see such a nick? But she's no six furlong flash! That\nchest, eh? Run your finger-tips down that shoulder!\"\n\nShe turned with tears of pleasure in her eyes. \"Ben Connor, you've been\nin the valley of the grays!\"\n\n\"I have. And do you know what it means to us?\"\n\n\"To _us_?\"\n\n\"I said it. I mean it. You're going to share.\"\n\n\"I--\"\n\n\"Look at that mare again!\"\n\nShe obeyed.\n\n\"Say something, Ruth!\"\n\n\"I can't say what I feel!\"\n\n\"Then try to understand this: you're looking at the fastest horse that\never stepped into a race track. You understand? I'm not speaking in\ncomparisons. I'm talking the cold dope! Here's a pony that could have\ngiven Salvator twenty pounds, run him sick in six furlongs, and walked\naway to the finish by herself. Here's a mare that could pick up a\nhundred and fifty pounds and beat the finest horse that ever faced a\nbarrier with a fly-weight jockey in the saddle. You're looking at\nhistory, girl! Look again! You're looking at a cold million dollars.\nYou're looking at the blood that's going to change the history of the\nturf. That's what Shakra means!\"\n\nShe was trembling with his excitement.\n\n\"I see. It's the sure thing you were talking about. The horse that can't\nbe beat--that makes the betting safe?\"\n\nBut Connor grew gloomy at once.\n\n\"What do you mean by sure thing? If I could ever get her safely away\nfrom the post in a stake race, yes; sure as anything on earth. But\nsuppose the train is wrecked? Suppose she puts a foot in a hole? Suppose\nat the post some rotten, cheap-selling plater kicks her and lays her\nup!\"\n\nHe passed a trembling hand along the neck of Shakra.\n\n\"God, suppose!\"\n\n\"But you only brought one; nothing else worth while in the valley?\"\n\n\"Nothing else? I tell you, the place is full of 'em! And there's a\nstallion as much finer than Shakra as she's finer than that broken-down,\nlow-headed, ewe-necked, straight-shouldered, roach-backed skate you have\nout yonder!\"\n\n\"Mr. Connor, that's the best little pony in Lukin! But I know--compared\nwith this--oh, to see her run, just once!\"\n\nShe sighed, and as her glance fell Connor noted her pallor and her\nweariness. She looked up again, and the great eyes filled her face with\nloveliness. Color, too, came into her cheeks and into her parted lips.\n\n\"You beauty!\" she murmured. \"You perfect, perfect beauty!\"\n\nShakra was nervous under the fluttering hands, but in spite of her\nuneasiness she seemed to enjoy the light-falling touches until the\nfinger-tips trailed across her forehead; then she tossed her head high,\nand the girl stood beneath, laughing, delighted. Connor found himself\nsmiling in sympathy. The two made a harmonious picture. As harmonious,\nsay, as the strength of Glani and the strength of David Eden. His face\ngrew tense with it when he drew the girl away.\n\n\"Would you like to have a horse like that--half a dozen like it?\"\n\nThe first leap of hope was followed by a wan smile at this cruel\nmockery.\n\nHe went on with brutal tenseness, jabbing the points at her with his\nraised finger.\n\n\"And everything else you've ever wanted: beautiful clothes? Manhattan? A\nlimousine as big as a house. A butler behind your chair and a maid in\nyour dressing room? A picture in the papers every time you turn around?\nYou want 'em?\"\n\n\"Do I want heaven?\"\n\n\"How much will you pay?\"\n\nHe urged it on her, towering over her as he drew close.\n\n\"What's it worth? Is it worth a fight?\"\n\n\"It's worth--everything.\"\n\n\"I'm talking shop. I'm talking business. Will you play partners with\nme?\"\n\n\"To the very end.\"\n\n\"The big deaf-mute doesn't own the grays in that valley they call the\nGarden of Eden. They're owned by a white man. They call him David Eden.\nAnd David Eden has never been out in the world. It's part of his creed\nnot to. It's part of his creed, however, to go out just once, find a\nwoman for his wife, and bring her back with him. Is that clear?\"\n\n\"I--\"\n\n\"You're to go up there. That old gray gelding we saw in Lukin the day of\nthe race. I'll finance you to the sky. Ride it to the gates of the\nGarden of Eden. Tell the guards that you've got to have another horse\nbecause the one you own is old. Insist on seeing David. Smile at 'em;\nwin 'em over. Make them let you see David. And the minute you see him,\nhe's ours! You understand? I don't mean marriage. One smile will knock\nhim stiff. Then play him. Get him to follow you out of the valley. Tell\nhim you have to go back home. He'll follow you. Once we have him outside\nyou can keep him from going back and you can make him bring out his\nhorses, too. Easy? It's a sure thing! We don't rob him, you see? We\nsimply use his horses. I race them and play them. I split the winnings\nwith you and David. Millions, I tell you; millions. Don't answer. Gimme\na chance to talk!\"\n\nThere was a rickety old box leaning against the wall; he made her sit on\nit, and dropping upon one knee, he poured out plan, reason, hopes,\nambitions in fierce confusion. It ended logically enough. David was\nunder what he considered a divine order to marry, and he would be clay\nin the hands of the first girl who met him. She would be a fool indeed\nif she were not able to lead him out of the valley.\n\n\"Think it over for one minute before you answer,\" concluded Connor, and\nthen rose and folded his arms. He controlled his very breathing for fear\nof breaking in on the dream which he saw forming in her eyes.\n\nThen she shook herself clear of the temptation.\n\n\"Ben, it's crooked! I'm to lie to him--live a lie until we have what we\nwant!\"\n\n\"God A'mighty, girl! Don't you see that we'd be doing the poor fathead a\ngood turn by getting him out of his hermitage and letting him live in\nthe world? A lie? Call it that if you want. Aren't there such things as\nwhite lies? If there are, this is one of 'em or I'm not Ben Connor.\"\n\nHis voice softened. \"Why, Ruth, you know damned well that I wouldn't put\nthe thing up to you if I didn't figure that in the end it would be the\nbest thing in the world for you? I'm giving you your chance. To save\nDave Eden from being a fossil. To earn your own freedom. To get\neverything you've longed for. Think!\"\n\n\"I'm trying to think--but I only keep feeling, inside, 'It's wrong! It's\nwrong! It's wrong!' I'm not a moralizer, but--tell me about David Eden!\"\n\nConnor saw his opening.\n\n\"Think of a horse that's four years old and never had a bit in his\nteeth. That's David Eden. The minute you see him you'll want to tame\nhim. But you'll have to go easy. Keep gloves on. He's as proud as a\nsulky kid. Kind of a chap you can't force a step, but you could coax him\nover a cliff. Why, he'd be thread for you to wind around your little\nfinger if you worked him right. But it wouldn't be easy. If he had a\nsingle suspicion he'd smash everything in a minute, and he's strong\nenough to tear down a house. Put the temper of a panther in the size of\na bear and you get a small idea of David Eden.\"\n\nHe was purposely making the task difficult and he saw that she was\nexcited. His own work with Ruth Manning was as difficult as hers would\nbe with David. The fickle color left her all at once and he found her\nlooking wistfully at him.\n\nShe returned neither answer, argument, nor comment. In vain he detailed\neach step of her way into the Garden and how she could pass the gate.\nSometimes he was not even sure that she heard him, as she listened to\nthe silent voice which spoke against him. He had gathered all his energy\nfor a last outburst, he was training his tongue for a convincing storm\nof eloquence, when Shakra, as though she wearied of all this human\nchatter, pushed in between them her beautiful head and went slowly\ntoward Ruth with pricking ears, inquisitive, searching for those light,\ncaressing touches.\n\nThe voice of Connor became an insidious whisper.\n\n\"Look at her, Ruth. Look at her. She's begging you to come. You can have\nher. She'll be a present to you. Quick! What's the answer!\"\n\nA strange answer! She threw her arms around the shoulder of the\nbeautiful gray, buried her face in the mane, and burst into tears.\n\nFor a moment Connor watched her, dismayed, but presently, as one\nsatisfied, he withdrew to the open air and mopped his forehead. It had\nbeen hard work, but it had paid. He looked over the distant blue waves\nof mountains with the eye of possession.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWENTY_\n\n\n\"The evil at heart, when they wish to take, seem to give,\" said Abraham,\nmouthing the words with his withered lips, and he came to one of his\nprophetic pauses.\n\nThe master of the Garden permitted it to the privileged old servant, who\nadded now: \"Benjamin is evil at heart.\"\n\n\"He did not ask for the horse,\" said David, who was plainly arguing\nagainst his own conviction.\n\n\"Yet he knew.\" The ancient face of Abraham puckered. \"Po' white trash!\"\nhe muttered. Now and then one of these quaint phrases would break\nthrough his acquired diction, and they always bore home to David a sense\nof that great world beyond the mountains. Matthew had often described\nthat world, but one of Abraham's odd expressions carried him in a breath\ninto cities filled with men.\n\n\"His absence is cheaply bought at the price of one mare,\" continued the\nold servant soothingly.\n\n\"One mare of Rustir's blood! What is the sin for which the Lord would\npunish me with the loss of Shakra? And I miss her as I would miss a\nhuman face. But Benjamin will return with her. He did not ask for the\nhorse.\"\n\n\"He knew you would offer.\"\n\n\"He will not return?\"\n\n\"Never!\"\n\n\"Then I shall go to find him.\"\n\n\"It is forbidden.\"\n\nAbraham sat down, cross-legged, and watched with impish self-content\nwhile David strode back and forth in the patio. A far-off neighing\nbrought him to a halt, and he raised his hand for silence. The neighing\nwas repeated, more clearly, and David laughed for joy.\n\n\"A horse coming from the pasture to the paddock,\" said Abraham, shifting\nuneasily.\n\nThe day was old and the patio was filled with a clear, soft light,\npreceding evening.\n\n\"It is Shakra! Shakra, Abraham!\"\n\nAbraham rose.\n\n\"A yearling. It is too high for the voice of a grown mare.\"\n\n\"The distance makes it shrill. Abraham, Abraham, cannot I find her voice\namong ten all neighing at once?\"\n\n\"Then beware of Benjamin, for he has returned to take not one but all.\"\n\nBut David smiled at the skinny hand which was raised in warning.\n\n\"Say no more,\" he said solemnly. \"I am already to blame for hearkening\nto words against my brother Benjamin.\"\n\n\"You yourself had said that he tempted you.\"\n\nBecause David could find no ready retort he grew angry.\n\n\"Also, think of this. Your eyes and your ears are grown dull, Abraham,\nand perhaps your mind is misted also.\"\n\nHe had gone to the entrance into the patio and paused there to wait with\na lifted head. Abraham followed and attempted to speak again, but the\nlast cruel speech had crushed him. He went out on the terrace, and\nlooking back saw that David had not a glance for him; so Abraham went\nfeebly on.\n\n\"I have become as a false prophet,\" he murmured, \"and I am no more\nregarded.\"\n\nHis life had long been in its evening, and now, at a step, the darkness\nof old age fell about him. From the margin of the lake he looked up and\nsaw Connor ride to the patio.\n\nDavid, at the entrance, clasped the hand of his guest while he was still\non the horse and helped him to the ground.\n\n\"This,\" he said solemnly, \"is a joyful day in my house.\"\n\n\"What's the big news?\" inquired the gambler, and added: \"Why so happy?\"\n\n\"Is it not the day of your return? Isaac! Zacharias!\"\n\nThey came running as he clapped his hands.\n\n\"Set out the oldest wine, and there is a haunch of the deer that was\nkilled at the gate. Go! And now, Benjamin, did Shakra carry you well and\nswiftly?\"\n\n\"Better than I was ever carried before.\"\n\n\"Then she deserves well of me. Come hither, Shakra, and stand behind me.\nTruly, Benjamin, my brother, my thoughts have ridden ten times across\nthe mountains and back, wishing for your return!\"\n\nConnor was sufficiently keen to know that a main reason for the warmth\nof his reception was that he had been doubted while he was away, and\nwhile they supped in the patio he was even able to guess who had raised\nthe suspicion against him. Word was brought that Abraham lay in his bed\nseriously ill, but David Eden showed no trace of sympathy.\n\n\"Which is the greater crime?\" he asked Benjamin a little later. \"To\npoison the food a man eats or the thoughts in his mind?\"\n\n\"Surely,\" said the crafty gambler, \"the mind is of more importance than\nthe stomach.\"\n\nLuckily David bore the main burden of conversation that evening, for the\nbrain of Connor was surcharged with impatient waiting. His great plan,\nhe shrewdly guessed, would give him everything or else ruin him in the\nGarden of Eden, and the suspense was like an eating pain. Luckily the\ncrisis came on the very next day.\n\nJacob galloped into the patio, and flung himself from the back of Abra.\n\nDavid and Connor rose from their chairs under the arcade where they had\nbeen watching Joseph setting great stones in place around the border of\nthe fountain pool. The master of the Garden went forward in some anger\nat this unceremonious interruption. But Jacob came as one whose news is\nso important that it overrides all need of conventional approach.\n\n\"A woman,\" he panted. \"A woman at the gate of the Garden!\"\n\n\"Why are you here?\" said David sternly.\n\n\"A woman--\"\n\n\"Man, woman, child, or beast, the law is the same. They shall not enter\nthe Garden of Eden. Why are you here?\"\n\n\"And she rides the gray gelding, the son of Yoruba!\"\n\nAt that moment the white trembling lips of Connor might have told the\nmaster much, but he was too angered to take heed of his guest.\n\n\"That which has once left the Garden is no longer part of it. For us,\nthe gray gelding does not exist. Why are you here?\"\n\n\"Because she would not leave the gate. She says that she will see you.\"\n\n\"She is a fool. And because she was so confident, you were weak enough\nto believe her?\"\n\n\"I told her that you would not come; that you could not come!\"\n\n\"You have told her that it is impossible for me to speak with her?\" said\nDavid, while Connor gradually regained control of himself, summoning all\nhis strength for the crisis.\n\n\"I told her all that, but she said nevertheless she would see you.\"\n\n\"For what reason?\"\n\n\"Because she has money with which to buy another horse like her gelding,\nwhich is old.\"\n\n\"Go back and tell her that there is no money price on the heads of my\nhorses. Go! When Ephraim is at the gate there are no such journeyings to\nme.\"\n\n\"Ephraim is here,\" said Jacob stoutly, \"and he spoke much with her.\nNevertheless she said that you would see her.\"\n\n\"For what reason?\"\n\n\"She said: 'Because.'\"\n\n\"Because of what?\"\n\n\"That word was her only answer: 'Because.'\"\n\n\"This is strange,\" murmured David, turning to Connor. \"Is that one word\na reason?\n\n\"Go back again,\" commanded David grimly. \"Go back and tell this woman\nthat I shall not come, and that if she comes again she will be driven\naway by force. And take heed, Jacob, that you do not come to me again on\nsuch an errand. The law is fixed. It is as immovable as the rocks in the\nmountains. You know all this. Be careful hereafter that you remember. Be\ngone!\"\n\nThe ruin of his plan in its very inception threatened Ben Connor. If he\ncould once bring David to see the girl he trusted in her beauty and her\ncleverness to effect the rest. But how lead him to the gate? Moreover,\nhe was angered and his frown boded no good for Jacob. The old servant\nwas turning away, and the gambler hunted his mind desperately for an\nexpedient. Persuasion would never budge this stubborn fellow so used to\ncommand. There remained the opposite of persuasion. He determined on an\nindirect appeal to the pride of the master.\n\n\"You are wise, David,\" he said solemnly. \"You are very wise. These\ncreatures are dangerous, and men of sense shun them. Tell your servants\nto drive her away with blows of a stick so that she will never return.\"\n\n\"No, Jacob,\" said the master, and the servant returned to hear the\ncommand. \"Not with sticks. But with words, for flesh of women is tender.\nThis is hard counsel, Benjamin!\"\n\nHe regarded the gambler with great surprise.\n\n\"Their flesh may be tender, but their spirits are strong,\" said Connor.\nThe opening he had made was small. At least he had the interest of\nDavid, and through that entering wedge he determined to drive with all\nhis might.\n\n\"And dangerous,\" he added gravely.\n\n\"Dangerous?\" said the master. He raised his head. \"Dangerous?\"\n\nAs if a jackal had dared to howl in the hearing of the lion.\n\n\"Ah, David, if you saw her you would understand why I warn you!\"\n\n\"It would be curious. In what wise does her danger strike?\"\n\n\"That I cannot say. They have a thousand ways.\"\n\nThe master turned irresolutely toward Jacob.\n\n\"You could not send her away with words?\"\n\n\"David, for one of my words she has ten that flow with pleasant sound\nlike water from a spring, and with little meaning, except that she will\nnot go.\"\n\n\"You are a fool!\"\n\n\"So I felt when I listened to her.\"\n\n\"There is an old saying, David, my brother,\" said Connor, \"that there is\nmore danger in one pleasant woman than in ten angry men. Drive her from\nthe gate with stones!\"\n\n\"I fear that you hate women, Benjamin.\"\n\n\"They were the source of evil.\"\n\n\"For which penance was done.\"\n\n\"The penance followed the sin.\"\n\n\"God, who made the mountains, the river and this garden and man, He made\nwoman also. She cannot be all evil. I shall go.\"\n\n\"Then, remember that I have warned you. God, who made man and woman,\nmade fire also.\"\n\n\"And is not fire a blessing?\"\n\nHe smiled at his triumph and this contest of words.\n\n\"You shall go with me, Benjamin.\"\n\n\"I? Never!\"\n\n\"In what is the danger?\"\n\n\"If you find none, there is none. For my part I have nothing to do with\nwomen.\"\n\nBut David was already whistling to Glani.\n\n\"One woman can be no more terrible than one man,\" he declared to\nBenjamin. \"And I have made Joseph, who is great of body, bend like a\nblade of grass in the wind.\"\n\n\"Farewell,\" said Connor, his voice trembling with joy. \"Farewell, and\nGod keep you!\"\n\n\"Farewell, Benjamin, my brother, and have no fear.\"\n\nConnor followed him with his eyes, half-triumphant, half-fearful. What\nwould happen at the gate? He would have given much to see even from a\ndistance the duel between the master and the woman.\n\nAt the gate of the patio David turned and waved his hand.\n\n\"I shall conquer!\"\n\nAnd then he was gone.\n\nConnor stared down at the grass with a cynical smile until he felt\nanother gaze upon him, and he became aware of the little beast--eyes of\nJoseph glittering. The giant had paused in his work with the stones.\n\n\"What are you thinking of, Joseph?\" asked the gambler.\n\nJoseph made an indescribable gesture of hate and fear.\n\n\"Of the whip!\" he said. \"I also opened the gate of the Garden. On whose\nback will the whip fall this time?\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE_\n\n\nNear the end of the eucalyptus avenue, and close to the gate, David\ndismounted and made Jacob do likewise.\n\n\"We may come on them by surprise and listen,\" he said. \"A soft step has\nwon great causes.\"\n\nThey went forward cautiously, interchanging sharp glances as though they\nwere stalking some dangerous beast, and so they came within earshot of\nthe gate and sheltered from view of it by the edge of the cliff. David\npaused and cautioned his companion with a mutely raised hand.\n\n\"He lived through the winter,\" Ephraim was saying. \"I took him into my\nroom and cherished him by the warmth of my fire and with rubbing, so\nthat when spring came, and gentler weather, he was still alive--a great\nleggy colt with a backbone that almost lifted through the skin. Only\nhigh bright eyes comforted me and told me that my work was a good work.\"\n\nDavid and Jacob interchanged nods of wonder, for Ephraim was telling to\nthis woman the dearest secret of his life.\n\nIt was how he had saved the weakling colt, Jumis, and raised him to a\nbeautiful, strong stallion, only to have him die suddenly in the height\nof his promise. Certainly Ephraim was nearly won over by the woman; it\nthrew David on guard.\n\n\"Go back to Abra,\" he whispered. \"Ride on to the gate and tell her\nboldly to be gone. I shall wait here, and in time of need I shall help\nyou. Make haste. Ephraim grows like wet clay under her fingers. Ah, how\nwise is Benjamin!\"\n\nJacob obeyed. He stole away and presently shot past at the full gallop\nof Abra. The stallion came to a sliding halt, and Jacob spoke from his\nback, which was a grave discourtesy in the Garden of Eden.\n\n\"The master will not see you,\" he said. \"The sun is still high. Return\nby the way you have come; you get no more from the Garden than its water\nand its air. He does not sell horses.\"\n\nFor the first time she spoke, and at the sound of her voice David Eden\nstepped out from the rock; he remembered himself in time and shrank back\nto shelter.\n\n\"He sold this horse.\"\n\n\"It was the will of the men before David that these things should be\ndone, but the Lord knows the mind of David and that his heart bleeds for\nevery gelding that leaves the Garden. See what you have done to him! The\nmarks of the whip and the spur are on his sides. Woe to you if David\nshould see them!\"\n\nShe cried out at that in such a way that David almost felt she had been\nstruck.\n\n\"It was the work of a drunken fool, and not mine.\"\n\n\"Then God have mercy on that man, for if the master should see him,\nDavid would have no mercy. I warn you: David is one with a fierce eye\nand a strong hand. Be gone before he comes and sees the scars on the\ngray horse.\"\n\n\"Then he is coming?\"\n\n\"She is quick,\" thought David, as an embarrassed pause ensued. \"Truly,\nBenjamin was right, and there is danger in these creatures.\"\n\n\"He has many horses,\" the girl went on, \"and I have only this one.\nBesides, I would pay well for another.\"\n\n\"What price?\"\n\n\"He should not have asked,\" muttered David.\n\n\"Everything that I have,\" she was answering, and the low thrill of her\nvoice went through and through the master of the Garden. \"I could buy\nother horses with this money, but not another like my gray. He is more\nthan a horse. He is a companion to me. He understands me when I talk,\nand I understand him. You see how he stands with his head down? He is\nnot tired, but hungry. When he neighs in a certain way from the corral I\nknow that he is lonely. You see that he comes to me now? That is because\nhe knows I am talking about him, for we are friends. But he is old and\nhe will die, and what shall I do then? It will be like a death in my\nhouse!\"\n\nAnother pause followed.\n\n\"You love the horse,\" said the voice of Ephraim, and it was plain that\nJacob was beyond power of speech.\n\n\"And I shall pay for another. Hold out your hand.\"\n\n\"I cannot take it.\"\n\nNevertheless, it seemed that he obeyed, for presently the girl\ncontinued: \"After my father died I sold the house. It was pretty well\nblanketed with a mortgage, but I cleared out this hundred from the\nwreck. I went to work and saved what I could. Ten dollars every month,\nfor twenty months--you can count for yourself--makes two hundred, and\nhere's the two hundred more in your hand. Three hundred altogether. Do\nyou think it's enough?\"\n\n\"If there were ten times as much,\" said Jacob, \"it would not be enough.\nThere--take your money. It is not enough. There is no money price on the\nheads of the master's horses.\"\n\nBut a new light had fallen upon David. Women, as he had heard of them,\nwere idle creatures who lived upon that which men gained with sweaty\ntoil, but this girl, it seemed, was something more. She was strong\nenough to earn her bread, and something more. Money values were not\nclear to David Eden, but three hundred dollars sounded a very\nconsiderable sum. He determined to risk exposure by glancing around the\nrock. If she could work like a man, no doubt she was made like a man and\nnot like those useless and decorative creatures of whom Matthew had\noften spoken to him, with all their graces and voices.\n\nCautiously he peered and he saw her standing beside the old, broken gray\nhorse. Even old Ephraim seemed a stalwart figure in comparison.\n\nAt first he was bewildered, and then he almost laughed aloud. Was it on\naccount of this that Benjamin had warned him, this fragile girl? He\nstepped boldly from behind the rock.\n\n\"There is no more to say,\" quoth Jacob.\n\n\"But I tell you, he himself will come.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" said David.\n\nAt that her eyes turned on him, and David was stopped in the midst of a\nstride until she shrank back against the horse.\n\nThen he went on, stepping softly, his hand extended in that sign of\npeace which is as old as mankind.\n\n\"Stay in peace,\" said David, \"and have no fear. It is I, David.\"\n\nHe hardly knew his own voice, it was so gentle. A twilight dimness\nseemed to have fallen upon Jacob and Ephraim, and he was only aware of\nthe girl. Her fear seemed to be half gone already, and she even came a\nhopeful step toward him.\n\n\"I knew from the first that you would come,\" she said, \"and let me buy\none horse--you have so many.\"\n\n\"We will talk of that later.\"\n\n\"David,\" broke in the grave voice of Ephraim, \"remember your own law!\"\n\nHe looked at the girl instead of Ephraim as he answered: \"Who am I to\nmake laws? God begins where David leaves off.\"\n\nAnd he added: \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Ruth.\"\n\n\"Come, Ruth,\" said David, \"we will go home together.\"\n\nShe advanced as one in doubt until the shadow of the cliff fell over\nher. Then she looked back from the throat of the gate and saw Ephraim\nand Jacob facing her as though they understood there was no purpose in\nguarding against what might approach the valley from without now that\nthe chief enemy was within. David, in the pause, was directing Jacob to\nplace the girl's saddle on the back of Abra.\n\n\"For it is not fitting,\" he explained, \"that you should enter my garden\nsave on one of my horses. And look, here is Glani.\"\n\nThe stallion came at the sound of his name. She had heard of the great\nhorse from Connor, but the reality was far more than the words.\n\n\"And this, Glani, is Ruth.\"\n\nShe touched the velvet nose which was stretched inquisitively toward\nher, and then looked up and found that David was smiling. A moment later\nthey were riding side by side down the avenue of the eucalyptus trees,\nand through the tall treetrunks new vistas opened rapidly about her.\nEvery stride of Abra seemed to carry her another step into the life of\nDavid.\n\n\"I should have called Shakra for you,\" said David, watching her with\nconcern, \"but she is ridden by another who has the right to the best in\nthe garden.\"\n\n\"Even Glani?\"\n\n\"Even Glani, save that he fears to ride my horse, and therefore he has\nShakra. I am sorry, for I wish to see you together. She is like\nyou--beautiful, delicate, and swift.\"\n\nShe urged Abra into a shortened gallop with a touch of her heel, so that\nthe business of managing him gave her a chance to cover her confusion.\nShe could have smiled away a compliment, but the simplicity of David\nmeant something more.\n\n\"Peace, Abra!\" commanded the master. \"Oh, unmannerly colt! It would be\nother than this if the wise Shakra were beneath your saddle.\"\n\n\"No, I am content with Abra. Let Shakra be for your servant.\"\n\n\"Not servant, but friend--a friend whom Glani chose for me. Consider how\nfickle our judgments are and how little things persuade us. Abraham is\nrich in words, but his face is ugly, and I prefer the smooth voice of\nZacharias, though he is less wise. I have grieved for this and yet it is\nhard to change. But a horse is wiser than a fickle-minded man, and when\nGlani went to the hand of Benjamin without my order, I knew that I had\nfound a friend.\"\n\nShe knew the secret behind that story, and now she looked at David with\npity.\n\n\"In my house you will meet Benjamin,\" the master was saying\nthoughtfully, evidently encountering a grave problem. \"I have said that\nlittle things make the judgments of men! If a young horse shies once,\nthough he may become a true traveler and a wise head, yet his rider\nremembers the first jump and is ever uneasy in the saddle.\"\n\nShe nodded, wondering what lay behind the explanation.\n\n\"Or if a snake crosses the road before a horse, at that place the horse\ntrembles when he passes again.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nShe found it strangely pleasant to follow the simple processes of his\nmind.\n\n\"It is so with Benjamin. At some time a woman crosses his way like a\nsnake, and because of her he has come to hate all women. And when I\nstarted for the gate, even now, he warned me against you.\"\n\nThe clever mind of the gambler opened to her and she smiled at the\ntrick.\n\n\"Yes, it is a thing for laughter,\" said David happily. \"I came with a\nmind armed for trouble--and I find you, whom I could break between my\nhands.\"\n\nHe turned, casting out his arms.\n\n\"What harm have I received from you?\"\n\nThey had reached the head of the bridge, and even as David turned a\nchanging gust carried to them a chorus of men's voices. David drew rein.\n\n\"There is a death,\" he said, \"in my household.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO_\n\n\nThe singing took on body and form as the pitch rose.\n\n\"There is a death,\" repeated David. \"Abraham is dead, the oldest and the\nwisest of my servants. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Glory\nto His name!\"\n\nRuth was touched to the heart.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" she said simply.\n\n\"Let us rejoice, rather, for Abraham is happy. His soul is reborn in a\nyoung body. Do you not hear them singing? Let us ride on.\"\n\nHe kept his head high and a stereotyped smile on his lips as the horses\nsprang into a gallop--that breath-taking gallop which made the spirit of\nthe girl leap; but she saw his breast raise once or twice with a sigh.\nIt was the stoicism of an Indian, she felt, and like an Indian's was the\nbronze-brown skin and the long hair blowing in the wind. The lake was\nbeside them now, and dense forest beyond opening into pleasant meadows.\nShe was being carried back into a primitive time of which the type was\nthe man beside her. Riding without a saddle his body gave to the swing\nof the gallop, and she was more conscious than ever of physical\nstrength.\n\nBut now the hoofs beat softly on the lawn terraces, and in a moment they\nhad stopped before the house where the death had been. She knew at once.\nThe empty arch into the patio of the servants' house was eloquent, in\nsome manner, of the life that had departed. Before it was the group of\nsingers, all standing quiet, as though their own music had silenced\nthem, or perhaps preparing to sing again. Connor had described the old\nservant, but she was not prepared for these straight, withered bodies,\nthese bony, masklike faces, and the white heads.\n\nAll in an instant they seemed to see her, and a flash of pleasure went\nfrom face to face. They stirred, they came toward her with glad murmurs,\nall except one, the oldest of them all, who remained aloof with his arms\nfolded. But the others pressed close around her, talking excitedly to\none another, as though she could not understand what they said. And she\nwould never forget one who took her hand in both of his. The touch of\nhis fingers was cold and as dry as parchment. \"Honey child, God bless\nyour pretty face.\"\n\nWas this the formal talk of which Connor had warned her? A growl from\nDavid drove them back from her like leaves before a wind. He had slipped\nfrom his horse, and now walked forward.\n\n\"It is Abraham?\" he asked.\n\n\"He is dead and glorious,\" answered the chorus, and the girl trembled to\nhear those time-dried relics of humanity speak so cheerily of death.\n\nThe master was silent for a moment, then: \"Did he leave no message for\nme?\"\n\nIn place of answering the group shifted and opened a passage to the one\nin the rear, who stood with folded arms.\n\n\"Elijah, you were with him?\"\n\n\"I heard his last words.\"\n\n\"And what dying message for David?\"\n\n\"Death sealed his lips while he had still much to say. To the end he was\na man of many words. But first he returned thanks to our Father who\nbreathed life into the clay.\"\n\n\"That was a proper thought, and I see that the words were words of\nAbraham.\"\n\n\"He gave thanks for a life of quiet ease and wise masters, and he\nforgave the Lord the length of years he was kept in this world.\"\n\n\"In that,\" said David gravely, \"I seem to hear his voice speaking.\nContinue.\"\n\n\"He commanded us to sing pleasantly when he was gone.\"\n\n\"I heard the singing on the lake road. It is well.\"\n\n\"Also, he bade us keep the first master in our minds, for John, he said,\nwas the beginning.\"\n\nAt this the face of David clouded a little.\n\n\"Continue. What word for David?\"\n\nSomething that Connor had said about the pride and sulkiness of a child\ncame back to Ruth.\n\nElijah, after hesitation, went on: \"He declared that Glani is too heavy\nin the forehead.\"\n\n\"Yes, that is Abraham,\" said the master, smiling tenderly. \"He would\nargue even on the death bed.\"\n\n\"But a cross with Tabari would remedy that defect.\"\n\n\"Perhaps. What more?\"\n\n\"He blessed you and bade you remember and rejoice that he was gone to\nhis wife and child.\"\n\n\"Ah?\" cried David softly. His glance, wandering absently, rested on the\ngirl for a moment, and then came back to Elijah. \"His mind went back to\nthat? What further for my ear?\"\n\n\"I remember nothing more, David.\"\n\n\"Speak!\" commanded the master.\n\nThe eyes of Elijah roved as though for help.\n\n\"Toward the end his voice grew faint and his mind seemed to wander.\"\n\n\"Far rather tremble, Elijah, if you keep back the words he spoke,\nhowever sharp they may be. My hand is not light. Remember, and speak.\"\n\nThe fear of Elijah changed to a gloomy pride, and now he not only raised\nhis head, but he even made a step forward and stood in dignity.\n\n\"Death took Abraham by the throat, and yet he continued to speak. 'Tell\nDavid that four masters cherished Abraham, but David cast him out like a\ndog and broke his heart, and therefore he dies. Although I bless him,\nGod will hereafter judge him!'\"\n\nA shudder went through the entire group, and Ruth herself was uneasy.\n\n\"Keep your own thoughts and the words of Abraham well divided,\" said\nDavid solemnly. \"I know his mind and its working. Continue, but be\nwarned.\"\n\n\"I am warned, David, but my brother Abraham is dead and my heart weeps\nfor him!\"\n\n\"God will hereafter judge me,\" said David harshly. \"And what was the\nfurther judgment of Abraham, the old man?\"\n\n\"Even this: 'David has opened the Garden to one and therefore it will be\nopened to all. The law is broken. The first sin is the hard sin and the\nothers follow easily. It is swift to run downhill. He has brought in\none, and another will soon follow.'\"\n\n\"Elijah,\" thundered David, \"you have wrested his words to fit the thing\nyou see.\"\n\n\"May the dead hand of Abraham strike me down if these were not his\nwords.\"\n\n\"Had he become a prophet?\" muttered David. \"No, it was maundering of an\nold man.\"\n\n\"God speaks on the lips of the dying, David.\"\n\n\"You have said enough.\"\n\n\"Wait!\"\n\n\"You are rash, Elijah.\"\n\nShe could not see the face of David, but the terror and frenzied\ndevotion of Elijah served her as mirror to see the wrath of the master\nof the Garden.\n\n\"David has opened the gate of the Garden. The world sweeps in and shall\ncarry away the life of Eden like a flood. All that four masters have\ndone the fifth shall undo.\"\n\nThe strength of his ecstasy slid from Elijah and he dropped upon his\nknees with his head weighted toward the earth. The others were frozen in\ntheir places. One who had opened his lips to speak, perhaps to intercede\nfor the rash Elijah, remained with his lips parted, a staring mask of\nfear. In them Ruth saw the rage of David Eden, and she was sickened by\nwhat she saw. She had half pitied the simplicity of this man, this gull\nof the clever Connor. Now she loathed him as a savage barbarian. Even\nthese old men were hardly safe from his furies of temper.\n\n\"Arise,\" said the master at length, and she could feel his battle to\ncontrol his voice. \"You are forgiven, Elijah, because of your\ncourage--yet, beware! As for that old man whose words you repeated, I\nshall consider him.\" He turned on his heel, and Ruth saw that his face\nwas iron.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE_\n\n\nFrom the gate of the patio Connor, watching all that time in a nightmare\nof suspense, saw, first of all, the single figure of David come around\nthe trees, David alone and walking. But before that shock passed he saw\nGlani at the heels of the master, and then, farther back, Ruth!\n\nShe had passed the gate and two-thirds of the battle was fought and won.\nYet all was not well, as he plainly saw. With long, swift steps David\ncame over the terrace, and finally paused as if his thoughts had stopped\nhim. He turned as Glani passed, and the girl came up to him; his\nextended arm halted Abra and he stood looking up to the girl and\nspeaking. Only the faint murmur of his voice came unintelligibly to\nConnor, but he recognized danger in it as clearly as in the hum of bees.\nSuddenly the girl, answering, put out her hands as if in gesture of\nsurrender. Another pause--it was only a matter of a second or so, but it\nwas a space for life or death with Connor. In that interval he knew that\nhis scheme was made or ruined. What had the girl said? Perhaps that\nmighty extended arm holding back Abra had frightened her, and with the\nwind blowing his long black hair aside, David of Eden was a figure wild\nenough to alarm her. Perhaps in fear of her life she had exposed the\nwhole plan. If so, it meant broken bones for Connor.\n\nBut now David turned again, and this time he was talking by the side of\nAbra as they came up the hill. He talked with many gestures, and the\ngirl was laughing down to him.\n\n\"God bless her!\" muttered Connor impulsively. \"She's a true-blue one!\"\n\nHe remembered his part in the nick of time as they came closer, and\nDavid helped the girl down from the saddle and brought her forward. The\ngambler drew himself up and made his face grave with disapproval. Now or\nnever he must prove to David that there was no shadow of a connection\nbetween him and the girl. Yet he was by no means easy. There was\nsomething forced and stereotyped in the smile of the girl that told him\nshe had been through a crucial test and was still near the breaking\npoint.\n\nDavid presented them to one another uneasily. He was even a little\nembarrassed under the accusing eye of Connor.\n\n\"I make you known, Ruth,\" he said, \"to my brother Benjamin. He is that\nman of whom I told you.\"\n\n\"I am happy,\" said the girl, \"to be known to him.\"\n\n\"That much I cannot say,\" replied the gambler.\n\nHe turned upon David with outstretched arm.\n\n\"Ah, David, I have warned you!\"\n\n\"As Abraham warned me against you, Benjamin. And dying men speak truth.\"\n\nThe counter-attack was so shrewd, so unexpected, that the gambler, for\nthe moment, was thrown completely off his guard.\n\nHe could only murmur: \"You are the judge for yourself, David.\"\n\n\"I am. Do not think that the power is in me. But God loves the Garden\nand His voice is never far from me. Neither are the spirits of the four\nwho lived here before me and made this place. When there is danger they\nwarn me. When I am in error the voice of God corrects me. And just as I\nheard the voice against the woman, Ruth, and heed it not.\"\n\nHe seemed to have gathered conviction for himself, much needed\nconviction, as he spoke. He turned now toward the girl.\n\n\"Be not wroth with Benjamin; and bear him no malice.\"\n\n\"I bear him none in the world,\" she answered truthfully, and held out\nher hand.\n\nBut Connor was still in his role. He folded his arms and pointedly\ndisregarded the advance.\n\n\"Woman, let there be peace and few words between us. My will is the will\nof David.\"\n\n\"There speaks my brother!\" cried the master of the valley.\n\n\"And yet,\" muttered Connor, \"why is she here?\"\n\n\"She came to buy a horse.\"\n\n\"But they are not sold.\"\n\n\"That is true. Yet she has traveled far and she is in great need of food\nand drink. Could I turn her away hungry, Benjamin?\"\n\n\"She could have been fed at the gate. She could surely have rested\nthere.\"\n\nIt was easy to see that David was hardpressed. His eye roved eagerly to\nRuth. Then a triumphant explanation sparkled in his eye.\n\n\"It is the horse she rides, a gelding from my Garden. His lot in the\nworld has been hard. He is scarred with the spur and the whip. I have\ndetermined to take him back, at a price. But who can arrange matters of\nbuying and selling all in a moment? It is a matter for much talk.\nTherefore she is here.\"\n\n\"I am answered,\" said Connor, and turning to Ruth he winked broadly.\n\n\"It is well,\" said David, \"and I foresee happy days. In the meantime\nthere is a duty before me. Abraham must be laid in his grave and I leave\nRuth to your keeping, Benjamin. Bear with her tenderly for my sake.\"\n\nHe stepped to the girl.\n\n\"You are not afraid?\"\n\n\"I am not afraid,\" she answered.\n\n\"My thoughts shall be near you. Farewell.\"\n\nHe had hardly reached the gate of the patio when Joseph, going out after\nfinishing his labor at the fountain, passed between the gambler and the\ngirl. Connor stopped him with a sign.\n\n\"The whip hasn't fallen, you see,\" he said maliciously.\n\n\"There is still much time,\" replied Joseph. \"And before the end it will\nfall. Perhaps on you. Or on that!\"\n\nHe indicated the girl with his pointing finger; his glance turned\nsavagely from one to the other, and then he went slowly out of the patio\nand they were alone. She came to Connor at once and even touched his arm\nin her excitement.\n\n\"What did he mean?\"\n\n\"That's the one I told you about. The one David beat up with the whip.\nHe'd give his eye teeth to get back at me, and he has an idea that\nthere's going to be hell to pay because another person has come into the\nvalley. Bunk! But--what happened down the hill?\"\n\n\"When he stopped me? Did you see that?\"\n\n\"My heart stopped the same minute. What was it?\"\n\n\"He had just heard the last words of Abraham. When he stopped me on the\nhill his face was terrible. Like a wolf!\"\n\n\"I know that look in him. How did you buck up under it?\"\n\n\"I didn't. I felt my blood turn to water and I wanted to run.\"\n\n\"But you stuck it out--I saw! Did he say anything?\"\n\n\"He said: 'Dying men do not lie. And I have been twice warned. Woman,\nwhy are you here?'\"\n\n\"And you?\" gasped Connor. \"What did you say?\"\n\n\"Nothing. My head spun. I looked up the terrace. I wanted to see you,\nbut you weren't in sight. I felt terribly alone and absolutely helpless.\nIf I'd had a gun, I would have reached for it.\"\n\n\"Thank God you didn't!\"\n\n\"But you don't know what his face was like! I expected him to tear me\noff the horse and smash me with his hands. All at once I wanted to tell\nhim everything--beg him not to hurt me.\" Connor groaned.\n\n\"I knew it! I knew that was in your head!\"\n\n\"But I didn't.\"\n\n\"Good girl.\"\n\n\"He said: 'Why are you here? What harm have you come to work in the\nGarden?'\"\n\n\"And you alone with him!\" gasped Connor.\n\n\"That was what did it. I was so helpless that it made me bold. Can you\nimagine smiling at a time like that?\"\n\n\"Were you able to?\"\n\n\"I don't know how. It took every ounce of strength in me. But I made\nmyself smile--straight into his face. Then I put out my hands to him all\nat once.\n\n\"'How could I harm you?' I asked him.\n\n\"And then you should have seen his face change and the anger break up\nlike a cloud. I knew I was safe, then, but I was still dizzy--just as\nif I'd looked over a cliff--you know?\"\n\n\"And yet you rode up the hill after that laughing down to him! Ruth,\nyou're the gamest sport and the best pal in the world. The finest little\nact I ever saw on the stage or off. It was Big Time stuff. My hat's off,\nbut--where'd you get the nerve?\"\n\n\"I was frightened almost to death. Too much frightened for it to show.\nWhen I saw you, my strength came back.\"\n\n\"But what do you think of him?\"\n\n\"He's--simply a savage. What do I think of an Indian?\"\n\n\"No more than that?\"\n\n\"Ben, can you pet a tiger after you've seen his claws?\"\n\nHe looked at her with anxiety.\n\n\"You're not going to break down later on--feeling as if he's dynamite\nabout to explode all the time?\"\n\n\"I'm going to play the game through,\" she said with a sort of fierce\nhappiness. \"I've felt like a sneak thief about this. But now it's\ndifferent. He's more of a wolf than a man. Ben, I saw murder in his\nface, I swear! And if it isn't wrong to tame wild beasts it isn't wrong\nto tame him. I'm going to play the game, lead him as far as I can until\nwe get the horses--and then it'll be easy enough to make up by being\ngood the rest of my life.\"\n\n\"Ruth--girl--you've covered the whole ground. And when you have the\ncoin--\" He broke off with laughter that was filled with drunken\nexcitement. \"But what did you think of my game?\"\n\nShe did not hear him, and standing with her hands clasped lightly behind\nher she looked beyond the roof of the house and over the tops of the\nwestern mountains, with the sun-haze about them.\n\n\"I feel as if I were on the top of the world,\" she said at last. \"And I\nwouldn't have one thing changed. We're playing for big stakes, but we're\ntaking a chance that makes the game worth while. What we win we'll\nearn--because he's a devil. Isn't it what you'd call a fair bet?\"\n\n\"The squarest in the world,\" said Connor stoutly.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR_\n\n\nThey had no means of knowing when David would return and the ominous\nshadow of Joseph, lingering near the patio, determined Connor on a walk\nout of any possible earshot. They went down to the lake with the singing\nof the men on the other side of the hill growing dim as they descended.\nThe cool of the day was beginning, and they walked close to the edge of\nthe water with the brown treetrunks on one side and the green images\nfloating beyond. Peace lay over Eden valley and the bright river that\nran through it, but Ben Connor had no mind to dwell on unessentials.\n\nHe had found in the girl an ally of unexpected strength. He expected\nonly a difficult tool filled with scruples, drawing back, imperiling his\nplans with her hesitation. Instead, she was on fire with the plan. He\nthought well to fan that fire and keep it steadily blazing.\n\n\"It's better for David; better for him than it is for us. Look at the\npoor fool! He's in prison here and doesn't know it. He thinks he's\nhappy, but he's simply kidding himself. In six months I'll have him\nchatting with millionaires.\"\n\n\"Let a barber do a day's work on him first.\"\n\n\"No. It's just the long-haired nuts like that who get by with the\nhigh-steppers. He has a lingo about flowers and trees that'll knock\ntheir eye out. I know the gang. Always on edge for something\ndifferent--music that sounds like a riot in a junk shop and poetry that\nreads like a drunken printing-press. Well, David ought to be different\nenough to suit 'em. I'll boost him, though: 'The Man that Brought Out\nthe Eden Grays!' He'll be headline stuff!\"\n\nHe laughed so heartily that he did not notice the quick glance of\ncriticism which the girl cast at him.\n\n\"I'm not taking anything from him, really,\" went on Connor. \"I'm simply\nsneaking around behind him so's I can pour his pockets full of the coin.\nThat's all there is to it. Outside of the looks, tell me if there's\nanything crooked you can see?\"\n\n\"I don't think there is,\" she murmured. \"I almost hope that there\nisn't!\"\n\nShe was so dubious about it that Connor was alarmed. He was fond of Ruth\nManning, but she was just \"different\" enough to baffle him. Usually he\ndivided mankind into three or four categories for the sake of fast\nthinking. There were the \"boobs,\" the \"regular guys,\" the \"high\nsteppers,\" and the \"nuts.\" Sometimes he came perilously close to\nincluding Ruth in the last class--with David Eden. And if he did not do\nso, it was mainly because she had given such an exhibition of cool\ncourage only a few moments before. He had finished his peroration, now,\nwith a feeling of actual virtue, but the shadow on her face made him\nchange his tactics and his talk.\n\nHe confined himself, thereafter, strictly to the future. First he\noutlined his plans for raising the cash for the big \"killing.\" He told\nof the men to whom he could go for backing. There were \"hard guys\" who\nwould take a chance. \"Wise ones\" who would back his judgment. \"Fall\nguys\" who would follow him blindly. For ten percent he would get all the\ncash he could place. Then it remained to try out the grays in secret,\nand in public let them go through the paces ridden under wraps and\nheavily weighted. He described the means of placing the big money before\nthe great race.\n\nAnd as he talked his figures mounted from tens to hundreds to thousands,\nuntil he was speaking in millions. In all of this profit she and David\nand Connor would share dollar for dollar. At the first corner of the\nshore they turned she had arrived at a snug apartment in New York. She\nwould have a housekeeper-companion. There would be a cosy living room\nand a paneled dining room. In the entrance hall of the apartment house,\nimitation of encrusted marble, no doubt.\n\nBut as they came opposite a little wooded island in the lake she had\nadded a maid to the housekeeper. Also, there was now a guest room. Some\none from Lukin would be in that room; some one from Lukin would go\nthrough the place with her, marveling at her good fortune.\n\nAnd clothes! They made all the difference. Dressed as she would be\ndressed, when she came into a room that queer, cold gleam of envy would\nbe in the eyes of the women and the men would sit straighter!\n\nYet when they reached the place where the shore line turned north and\nwest her imagination, spurred by Connor's talk, was stumbling along\ndizzy heights. Her apartment occupied a whole floor. Her butler was a\nmiracle of dignity and her chef a genius in the kitchen. On the great\ntable the silver and glass were things of frosted light. Her chauffeur\ndrove a monster automobile with a great purring engine that whipped her\nabout the city with the color blown into her cheeks. In her box at the\nopera she was allowing the deep, soft luxury of the fur collar to slide\ndown from her throat, while along the boxes, in the galleries, there was\na ripple of light as the thousand glasses turned upon her. Then she\nfound that Connor was smiling at her. She flushed, but snapped her\nfingers.\n\n\"This thing is going through,\" she declared.\n\n\"You won't weaken?\"\n\n\"I'm as cold as steel. Let's go back. He'll probably be in the house by\nthis time.\"\n\nTime had slipped past her unnoticed, and the lake was violet and gold\nwith the sunset as they turned away; under the trees along the terraces\nthe brilliant wild flowers were dimmed by a blue shadow.\n\n\"But I never saw wild flowers like those,\" she said to Connor.\n\n\"Nobody else ever did. But old Matthew, whoever he was, grew 'em and\nkept crossing 'em until he got those big fellows with all the colors of\nthe rainbow.\"\n\n\"Hurry! We're late!\"\n\n\"No, David's probably on top of that hill, now; always goes up there to\nwatch the sun rise and the sun set. Can you beat that?\"\n\nHe chuckled, but a shade had darkened the face of the girl for a moment.\nThen she lifted her head resolutely.\n\n\"I'm not going to try to understand him. The minute you understand a\nthing you stop being afraid of it; and as soon as I stop being afraid of\nDavid Eden I might begin to like him--which is what I don't want.\"\n\n\"What's that?\" cried Connor, breaking in on her last words. When Ruth\nbegan to think aloud he always stopped listening; it was a maxim of his\nto never listen when a woman became serious.\n\n\"It's that strange giant.\"\n\n\"Joseph!\" exclaimed Connor heavily. \"Whipping did him no good. He'll\nneed killing one of these days.\"\n\nBut she had already reverted to another thing.\n\n\"Do you think he worships the sun?\"\n\n\"I don't think. Try to figure out a fellow like that and you get to be\njust as much of a nut as he is. Go on toward the house and I'll follow\nyou in a minute. I want to talk to big Joe.\"\n\nHe turned aside into the trees briskly, and the moment he was out of\nsight of the girl he called softly: \"Joseph!\"\n\nHe repeated the call after a trifling wait before he saw the big man\ncoming unconcernedly through the trees toward him. Joseph came close\nbefore he stopped--very close, as a man will do when he wishes to make\nanother aware of his size, and from this point of vantage, he looked\nover Connor from head to foot with a glance of lingering and insolent\ncriticism. The gambler was somewhat amused and a little alarmed by that\nattitude.\n\n\"Now, Joseph,\" he said, \"tell me frankly why you're dodging me about the\nvalley. Waiting for a chance to throw stones?\"\n\nHis smile remained without a reflection on the stolid face of the\nservant.\n\n\"Benjamin,\" answered the deep, solemn voice, \"I know all!\"\n\nIt made Connor peer into those broad features as into a dim light. Then\na moment of reflection assured him that Joseph could not have learned\nthe secret.\n\n\"Haneemar, whom you know,\" continued Joseph, \"has told me about you.\"\n\n\"And where,\" asked Connor, completely at sea, \"did you learn of\nHaneemar?\"\n\n\"From Abraham. And I know that this is the head of Haneemar.\"\n\nHe brought out in his palm the little watch-charm of carved ivory.\n\n\"Of course,\" nodded Connor, feeling his way. \"And what is it that you\nknow from Haneemar?\"\n\n\"That you are evil, Benjamin, and that you have come here for evil. You\nentered by a trick; and you will stay here for evil purposes until the\nend.\"\n\n\"You follow around to pick up a little dope, eh?\" chuckled Connor. \"You\ntrail me to find out what I intend to do? Why don't you go to David and\nwarn him?\"\n\n\"Have I forgotten the whip?\" asked Joseph, his nostrils trembling with\nanger. \"But the good Haneemar now gives me power and in the end he will\nbetray you into my hands. That is why I follow you. Wherever you go I\nfollow; I am even able to know what you think! But hearken to me,\nBenjamin. Take back the head of Haneemar and the bad luck that lives in\nit. Take it back, and I shall no longer follow you. I shall forget the\nwhip. I shall be ready to do you a service.\"\n\nHe extended the little piece of ivory eagerly, but Connor drew back. His\nsuperstitions were under the surface of his mind, but, still, they were\nthere, and the fear which Joseph showed was contagious.\n\n\"Why don't you throw it away if you're afraid of it, Joseph?\"\n\n\"You know as I know,\" returned Joseph, glowering, \"that it cannot be\nthrown away. It must be given and freely accepted, as I--oh\nfool--accepted it from you.\"\n\nThere was such a profound conviction in this that Connor was affected in\nspite of himself. That little trinket had been the entering wedge\nthrough which he had worked his way into the Garden and started on the\nroad to fortune. He would rather have cut off his hand, now, than take\nit back.\n\n\"Find some one else to take it,\" he suggested cheerily. \"I don't want\nthe thing.\"\n\n\"Then all that Abraham told me is true!\" muttered Joseph, closing his\nhand over the trinket. \"But I shall follow you, Benjamin. When you think\nyou are alone you shall find me by turning your head. Every day by\nsunrise and every day by the dark I beg Haneemar to put his curse on\nyou. I have done you no wrong, and you have had me shamed.\"\n\n\"And now you're going to have me bewitched, eh?\" asked Connor.\n\n\"You shall see.\"\n\nThe gambler drew back another pace and through the shadows he saw the\nbeginning of a smile of animal-cunning on the face of Joseph.\n\n\"The devil take you and Haneemar together,\" he growled. \"Remember this,\nJoseph. I've had you whipped once. The next time I'll have you flayed\nalive.\"\n\nInstead of answering, Joseph merely grinned more openly, and the\ngambler, to forget the ape-face, wheeled and hurried out from the trees.\nThe touch of nightmare dread did not leave him until he rejoined Ruth on\nthe higher terrace.\n\nThey found the patio glowing with light, the table near the fountain,\nand three chairs around it. David came out of the shadow of the arcade\nto meet them, and he was as uneasy as a boy who had a surprise for\ngrown-ups. He had not even time for a greeting.\n\n\"You have not seen your room?\" he said to Ruth. \"I have made it ready\nfor you. Come!\"\n\nHe led the way half a pace in front, glancing back at them as though to\nreprove their slowness, until he reached a door at which he turned and\nfaced her, laughing with excitement. She could hardly believe that this\nman with his childish gayety was the same whose fury had terrified the\nservants that same afternoon.\n\n\"Close your eyes--close them fast. You will not look until I say?\"\n\nShe obeyed, setting her teeth to keep from smiling.\n\n\"Now come forward--step high for the doorway. So! You are in. Now\nwait--now open your eyes and look!\"\n\nShe obeyed again and saw first David standing back with an anxious smile\nand the gesture of one who reveals, but is not quite sure of its effect.\nThen she heard a soft, startled exclamation from Connor behind her. Last\nof all she saw the room.\n\nIt was as if the walls had been broken down and a garden let inside--it\ngave an effect of open air, sunlight and wind. Purple flowers like warm\nshadows banked the farther corners, and out of them rose a great vine\ndraping the window. It had been torn bodily from the earth, and now the\nroots were packed with damp moss, yellow-green. It bore in clusters and\nsingle flowers and abundant bloom, each blossom as large as the mallow,\nand a dark gold so rich that Ruth well-nigh listened for the murmur of\nbees working this mine of pollen. From above, the great flowers hung\ndown against the dull red of the sunset sky; and from below the distant\ntreetops on the terrace pointed up with glimmers of the lake between.\nThere was only the reflected light of the evening, now, but the cuplike\nblossoms were filled to the brim with a glow of their own.\n\nShe looked away.\n\nA dapple deerskin covered the bed like the shadow under a tree in\nmid-day, and the yellow of the flowers was repeated dimly on the floor\nby a great, tawny hide of a mountain-lion. She took up some of the\npurple flowers, and letting the velvet petals trail over her finger\ntips, she turned to David with a smile. But what Connor saw, and saw\nwith a thrill of alarm, was that her eyes were filling with tears.\n\n\"See!\" said David gloomily. \"I have done this to make you happy, and now\nyou are sad!\"\n\n\"Because it is so beautiful.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said David slowly. \"I think I understand.\"\n\nBut Connor took one of the flowers from her hand. She cried out, but too\nlate to keep him from ripping the blossom to pieces, and now he held up\na single petal, long, graceful, red-purple at the broader end and deep\nyellow at the narrow.\n\n\"Think of that a million times bigger,\" said Connor, \"and made out of\nvelvet. That'd be a design for a cloak, eh? Cost about a thousand bucks\nto imitate this petal, but it'd be worth it to see you in it, eh?\"\n\nShe looked to David with a smile of apology for Connor, but her hand\naccepted the petal, and her second smile was for Connor himself.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE_\n\n\nWhen they went out into the patio again, David had lost a large part of\nhis buoyancy of spirits, as though in some subtle manner Connor had\novercast the triumph of the room; he left them with word that the\nevening meal would soon be ready and hurried off calling orders to\nZacharias.\n\n\"Why did you do it?\" she asked Connor as soon as they were alone.\n\n\"Because it made me mad to see a stargazer like that turning your head.\"\n\n\"But didn't you think the room was beautiful?\"\n\n\"Sure. Like a riot in a florist's shop. But don't let this David take\nyou off guard with his rooms full of flowers and full of silence.\"\n\n\"Silence?\"\n\n\"Haven't I told you about his Room of Silence? That's one of his queer\ndodges. That room; you see? When anything bothers him he goes over and\nsits down in there, because--do you know what he thinks sits with him?\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"God!\"\n\nShe was between a smile and a gasp.\n\n\"Yep, that's David,\" grinned Connor. \"Just plain nut.\"\n\n\"What's inside?\"\n\n\"I don't know. Maybe flowers.\"\n\n\"Let's find out.\"\n\nHe caught her arm quickly.\n\n\"Not in a thousand years!\" He changed color at the thought and glanced\nguiltily around. \"That would be the smash of everything. Why, he turned\nover the whole Garden of Eden to me. I can go anywhere, but not a step\ninside that room. It's his Holy Ground, you see! Maybe it's where he\nkeeps his jack. And I've a hunch that he has a slough of it tucked away\nsomewhere.\"\n\nShe raised her hand as an idea came to her half way through this speech.\n\n\"Listen! I have an idea that the clew to all of David's mystery is in\nthat room!\"\n\n\"Drop that idea, Ruth,\" he ordered gruffly. \"You've seen David on one\nrampage, but it's nothing to what would happen if you so much as peeked\ninto that place. When the servants pass that door they take off their\nhats--watch 'em the next time you have a chance. You won't make a slip\nabout that room?\"\n\n\"No.\" But she added: \"I'd give my soul--for one look!\"\n\nDinner that night under the stars with the whispering of the fountain\nbeside them was a ceremony which Connor never forgot. The moon rose late\nand in the meantime the sky was heavy and dark with sheeted patchwork of\nclouds, with the stars showing here and there. The wind blew in gusts.\nA wave began with a whisper on the hill, came with a light rushing\nacross the patio, and then diminished quickly among the trees down the\nterraces. Rough, iron-framed lanterns gave the light and showed the\narcade stepping away on either side and growing dim toward the entrance.\nThat uncertain illumination made the crude pillars seem to have only the\nirregularity of vast antiquity, stable masses of stone. Where the circle\nof lantern-light overlapped rose the fountain, a pale spray forever\ndissolving in the upper shadow. Connor himself was more or less used to\nthese things, but he became newly aware of them as the girl sent quick,\neager glances here and there.\n\nShe had placed a single one of the great yellow blossoms in her hair and\nit changed her shrewdly. It brought out the delicate coloring of her\nskin, and to the darkness of her eyes it lent a tint of violet. Plainly\nshe enjoyed the scene with its newness. David, of course, was the spice\nto everything, and his capitulation was complete; he kept the girl\nalways on an uneasy balance between happiness and laughter. And Connor\ntrembled for fear the mirth would show through. But each change of her\nexpression appeared to delight David more than the last.\n\nUnder his deft knife the choicest white meat came away from the breast\nof a chicken and he heaped it at once on the plate of Ruth. Then he\ndropped his chin upon his great brown fist and watched with silent\ndelight while she ate. It embarrassed her; but her flush had a tinge of\npleasure in it, as Connor very well knew.\n\n\"Look!\" said David, speaking softly as though Ruth would not hear him.\n\"How pleasant it is, to be three together. When we were two, one talked\nand the other grew weary--was it not so? But now we are complete. One\nspeaks, one listens, and the other judges. I have been alone. The\nGarden of Eden has been to me a prison, at many times. And now there is\nnothing wanting. And why? There were many men before. We were not\nlacking in numbers. Yet there was an emptiness, and now comes one small\ncreature, as delicate as a colt of three months, this being of smiles\nand curious glances, this small voice, this woman--and at once the gap\nis filled. Is it not strange?\"\n\nHe cast himself back in his chair, as though he wished to throw her into\nperspective with her surroundings, and all the time he was staring as\nthough she were an image, a picture, and not a thing of flesh and blood.\nConnor himself was on the verge of a smile, but when he saw the face of\nRuth Manning his mirth disappeared in a chill of terror. She was\nstruggling and struggling in vain against a rising tide of laughter,\nlaughter in the face of David Eden and his sensitive pride.\n\nIt came, it broke through all bonds, and now it was bubbling from her\nlips. As one who awaits the falling of a blow, Connor glanced furtively\nat the host, and again he was startled.\n\nThere was not a shade of evil temper in the face of David. He leaned\nforward, indeed, with a surge of the great shoulders, but it was as one\nwho listens to an entrancing music. And when she ceased, abruptly, he\nsighed.\n\n\"Speak to me,\" he commanded.\n\nShe murmured a faint reply.\n\n\"Again,\" said David, half closing his eyes. And Connor nodded a frantic\nencouragement to her.\n\n\"But what shall I say?\"\n\n\"For the meaning of what you say,\" said David, \"I have no care, but only\nfor the sound. Have you heard dripping in a well, a sound like water\nfilling a bottle and never reaching the top? It keeps you listening for\nan hour, perhaps, always a soft sound, but always rising toward a\nclimax? Or a drowsy day when the wind hardly moves and the whistling of\na bird comes now and then out of the trees, cool and contented? Or you\npass a meadow of flowers in the warm sun and hear the ground murmur of\nthe bees, and you think at once of the wax films of the honeycomb, and\nthe clear golden honey? All those things I heard and saw when you\nspoke.\"\n\n\"Plain nut!\" said Connor, framing the words with silent lips.\n\nBut though her eyes rested on him, apparently she did not see his face.\nShe looked back at Connor with a wistful little half-smile.\n\nAt once David cast out both his hands toward hers.\n\n\"Ah, you are strange, new, delightful!\" He stopped abruptly. Then: \"Does\nit make you happy to hear me say these things?\"\n\n\"Why do you ask me that?\" she said curiously.\n\n\"Because it fills me with unspeakable happiness to say them. If I am\nsilent and only think then I am not so pleased. When I see Glani\nstanding on the hilltop I feel his speed in the slope of his muscles,\nthe flaunt of his tail, the pride of his head; but when I gallop him,\nand the wind of his galloping strikes my face--ha, that is a joy! So it\nis speaking with you. When I see you I say within: 'She is beautiful!'\nBut when I speak it aloud your lips tremble a little toward a smile,\nyour eyes darken with pleasure, and then my heart rises into my throat\nand I wish to speak again and again and again to find new things to say,\nto say old things in new words. So that I may watch the changes in your\nface. Do you understand? But now you blush. Is that a sign of anger?\"\n\n\"It is a sign that no other men have ever talked to me in this manner.\"\n\n\"Then other men are fools. What I say is true. I feel it ring in me,\nthat it is the truth. Benjamin, my brother, is it not so? Ha!\"\n\nShe was raising the wine-cup; he checked her with his eager, extended\nhand.\n\n\"See, Benjamin, how this mysterious thing is done, this raising of the\nhand. _We_ raise the cup to drink. An ugly thing--let it be done and\nforgotten. But when _she_ lifts the cup it is a thing to be remembered;\nhow her fingers curve and the weight of the cup presses into them, and\nhow her wrist droops.\"\n\nShe lowered the cup hastily and put her hand before her face.\n\n\"I see,\" said Connor dryly.\n\n\"Bah!\" cried the master of the Garden. \"You do not see. But you, Ruth,\nare you angry? Are you shamed?\"\n\nHe drew down her hands, frowning with intense anxiety. Her face was\ncrimson.\n\n\"No,\" she said faintly.\n\n\"He says that he sees, but he does not see,\" went on David. \"He is\nblind, this Benjamin of mine. I show him my noblest grove of the\neucalyptus trees, each tree as tall as a hill, as proud as a king, as\nbeautiful as a thought that springs up from the earth. I show him these\nglorious trees. What does he say? 'You could build a whole town out of\nthat wood!' Bah! Is that seeing? No, he is blind! Such a man would give\nyou hard work to do. But I say to you, Ruth, that to be beautiful is to\nbe wise, and industrious, and good. Surely you are to me like the rising\nof the sun--my heart leaps up! And you are like the coming of the night\nmaking the world beautiful and mysterious. For behind your eyes and\nbehind your words, out of the sound of your voice and your glances, I\nguess at new things, strange things, hidden things. Treasures which\ncannot be held in the hands. Should you grow as old as Elijah, withered,\nmeager as a grasshopper, the treasures would still be there. I, who have\nseen them, can never forget them!\"\n\nOnce more she covered her eyes with her hand, and David started up from\nhis chair.\n\n\"What have I done?\" he asked faintly of Connor. He hurried around the\ntable to her. \"Look up! How have I harmed you?\"\n\n\"I am only tired,\" she said.\n\n\"I am a fool! I should have known. Come!\" said David.\n\nHe drew her from the chair and led her across the lawn, supporting her.\nAt her door: \"May sleep be to you like the sound of running water,\"\nmurmured David.\n\nAnd when the door was closed he went hastily back to Connor.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX_\n\n\n\"What have I done? What have I done?\" he kept moaning. \"She is in pain.\nI have hurt her.\"\n\n\"Sit down,\" said Connor, deeply amused.\n\nIt had been a curious revelation to him, this open talk of a man who was\nfalling in love. He remembered the way he had proposed to a girl, once:\n\"Say, Betty, don't you think you and me would hit it off pretty well,\nspeaking permanently?\"\n\nThis flaunting language was wholly ludicrous to Connor. It was\nbook-stuff.\n\nDavid had obeyed him with childlike docility, and sat now like a pupil\nabout to be corrected by the master.\n\n\"That point is this,\" explained Connor gravely. \"You have the wrong\nidea. As far as I can make out, you like Ruth?\"\n\n\"It is a weak word. Bah! It is not enough.\"\n\n\"But it's enough to tell her. You see, men outside of the Garden don't\ntalk to a girl the way you do, and it embarrasses her to have you talk\nabout her all the time.\"\n\n\"Is it true?\" murmured the penitent David. \"Then what should I have\nsaid?\"\n\n\"Well--er--you might have said--that the flower went pretty well in her\nhair, and let it go at that.\"\n\n\"But it was more, more, more! Benjamin, my brother, these hands of mine\npicked that very flower. And I see that it has pleased her. She had\ntaken it up and placed it in her hair. It changes her. My flower brings\nher close to me. It means that we have found a thing which pleases us\nboth. Just as you and I, Benjamin, are drawn together by the love of one\nhorse. So that flower in her hair is a great sign. I dwell upon it. It\nis like a golden moon rising in a black night. It lights my way to her.\nWords rush up from my heart, but cannot express what I mean!\"\n\n\"Let it go! Let it go!\" said Connor hastily, brushing his way through\nthis outflow of verbiage, like a man bothered with gnats. \"I gather what\nyou mean. But the point is that about nine-tenths of what you think\nyou'd better not say. If you want to talk--well, talk about yourself.\nThat's what I most generally do with a girl. They like to hear a man say\nwhat he's done.\"\n\n\"Myself!\" said David heavily. \"Talk of a dead stump when there is a\ngreat tree beside it? Well, I see that I have much to learn.\"\n\n\"You certainly have,\" said Connor with much meaning. \"I'd hate to turn\nyou loose in Manhattan.\"\n\n\"In what?\"\n\n\"Never mind. But here's another thing. You know that she'll have to\nleave pretty soon?\"\n\nThe meaning slowly filtered into David's mind.\n\n\"Benjamin,\" he said slowly, \"you are wise in many ways, with horses and\nwith women, it seems. But that is a fool's talk. Let me hear no more of\nit. Leave me? Why should she leave me?\"\n\nTriumph warmed the heart of Connor.\n\n\"Because a girl can't ramble off into the mountains and put up in a\nvalley where there are nothing but men. It isn't done.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Isn't good form.\"\n\n\"I fail to understand.\"\n\n\"My dear fellow, she'd be compromised for life if it were known that she\nhad lived here with us.\"\n\nDavid shook his head blankly.\n\n\"In one word,\" said Connor, striving to make his point, \"she'd be\npointed out by other women and by men. They'd never have anything to do\nwith her. They'd say things that would make her ashamed, hurt her, you\nknow.\"\n\nUnderstanding and wrath gathered in David's face.\n\n\"To such a man--to such a dog of a man--I would talk with my hands!\"\n\n\"I think you would,\" nodded Connor, not a little impressed. \"But you\nmight not be around to hear the talk.\"\n\n\"But women surely live with men. There are wives--\"\n\n\"Ah! Man and wife--all very well!\"\n\n\"Then it is simple. I marry her and then I keep her here forever.\"\n\n\"Perhaps. But will she marry you?\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Well, does she love you?\"\n\n\"True.\" He stood up. \"I'll ask her.\"\n\n\"For Heaven's sake, no! Sit down! You mustn't rush at a woman like this\nthe first day you know her. Give her time. Let me tell you when!\"\n\n\"Benjamin, my dear brother, you are wise and I am a fool!\"\n\n\"You'll do in time. Let me coach you, that's all, and you'll come on\nfamously. I can tell you this: that I think she likes you very well\nalready.\"\n\n\"Your words are like a shower of light, a fragrant wind. Benjamin, I am\nhot with happiness! When may I speak to her?\"\n\n\"I don't know. She may have guessed something out of what you said\nto-night.\" He swallowed a smile. \"You might speak to her about this\nmarriage to-morrow.\"\n\n\"It will be hard; but I shall wait.\"\n\n\"And then you'll have to go out of the Garden with her to get married.\"\n\n\"Out of the Garden? Never! Why should we?\"\n\n\"Why, you'll need a minister, you know, to marry you.\"\n\n\"True. Then I shall send for one.\"\n\n\"But he might not want to make this long journey for the sake of one\nmarriage ceremony.\"\n\n\"There are ways, perhaps, of persuading him to come,\" said David, making\na grim gesture.\n\n\"No force or you ruin everything.\"\n\n\"I shall be ruled by you, brother. It seems I have little knowledge.\"\n\n\"Go easy always and you'll come out all right. Give her plenty of time.\nA woman always needs a lot of time to make up her mind, and even then\nshe's generally wrong.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\"\n\n\"No matter. She'll probably want to go back to her home for a while.\"\n\n\"Leave me?\"\n\n\"Not necessarily. But you, when a man gets engaged, it's sometimes a\ncouple of years between the time a woman promises to marry him and the\nday of the ceremony.\"\n\n\"Do they wait so long, and live apart?\"\n\n\"A thousand miles, maybe.\"\n\n\"Then you men beyond the mountains are made of iron!\"\n\n\"Do you have to be away from her? Why not go along with her when she\ngoes home?\"\n\n\"Surely, Benjamin, you know that a law forbids it!\"\n\n\"You make your own laws in important things like this.\"\n\n\"It cannot be.\"\n\nAnd so the matter rested when Connor left his host and went to bed. He\nhad been careful not to press the point. So unbelievably much ground had\nbeen covered in the first few hours that he was dizzy with success. It\nseemed ages since that Ruth had come running to him in the patio in\nterror of her life. From that moment how much had been done!\n\nClosing his eyes as he lay on his bed, he went back over each incident\nto see if a false step had been made. As far as he could see, there had\nnot been a single unsound measure undertaken. The first stroke had been\nthe masterpiece. Out of a danger which had threatened instant\ndestruction of their plan she had won complete victory by her facing of\nDavid, and when she put her hand in his as a sign of weakness, Connor\ncould see that she had made David her slave.\n\nAs the scene came back vividly before his eyes he could not resist an\nimpulse to murmur aloud to the dark: \"Brave girl!\"\n\nShe had grown upon him marvelously in that single half-day. The ability\nto rise to a great situation was something which he admired above all\nthings in man or woman. It was his own peculiar power--to judge a man or\na horse in a glance, and dare to venture a fortune on chance. Indeed, it\nwas hardly a wonder that David Eden or any other man should have fallen\nin love with her in that one half-day. She was changed beyond\nrecognition from the pale girl who sat at the telegraph key in Lukin and\nlistened to the babble of the world. Now she was out in that world,\nacting on the stage and proving herself worthy of a role.\n\nHe rehearsed her acts. And finally he found himself flushing hotly at\nthe memory of her mingled pleasure and shame and embarrassment as David\nof Eden had poured out his amazing flow of compliments.\n\nAt this point Connor sat up suddenly and violently in his bed.\n\n\"Steady, Ben!\" he cautioned himself. \"Watch your step!\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN_\n\n\nBen Connor awoke the next morning with the sun streaming across the room\nand sprang out of bed at once, worried. For about dawn noises as a rule\nbegan around the house and the singing of the old men farther down the\nhill. The Garden of Eden awakened at sunrise, and this silence even when\nthe sun was high alarmed the gambler. He dressed hastily, and opening\nhis door, he saw David walking slowly up and down the patio. At the\nsight of Connor he raised a warning finger.\n\n\"Let us keep a guard upon our voices,\" he murmured, coming to Connor. \"I\nhave ordered my servants to move softly and to keep from the house if\nthey may.\"\n\n\"What's happened?\"\n\n\"She sleeps, Benjamin.\" He turned toward her door with a smile that the\ngambler never forgot. \"Let her waken rested.\"\n\nConnor looked at the sky.\n\n\"I've come too late for breakfast, even?\"\n\nA glance of mild rebuke was turned upon him.\n\n\"Surely, Benjamin, we who are strong will not eat before her who is\nweak?\"\n\n\"Are you going to starve yourself because she's sleepy?\"\n\n\"But I have not felt hunger.\"\n\nHe added in a voice of wonder: \"Listen!\"\n\nRuth Manning was singing in her room, and Connor turned away to hide his\nfrown. For he was not by any means sure whether the girl sang from the\njoy she found in this great adventure or because of David Eden. He was\nstill further troubled when she came out to the breakfast table in the\npatio. He had expected that she would be more or less confused by the\npresence of David after his queer talk of the night before, but sleep\nseemed to have wiped everything from her memory. Her first nod, to be\nsure, was for the gambler, but her smile was for David of Eden. Connor\nfell into a reverie which was hardly broken through the meal by the deep\nvoice of David or the laughter of Ruth. Their gayety was a barrier, and\nhe was, subtly, left on the outside. David had proposed to the girl a\nride through the Garden, and when he went for the horses the gambler\ndecided to make sure of her position. He was too much disturbed to be\ndiplomatic. He went straight to the point.\n\n\"I'm sorry this is such a mess for you; but if you can buck up for a\nwhile it won't take long to finish the job.\"\n\nShe looked at him without understanding, which was what he least wanted\nin the world. So he went on: \"As a matter of fact, the worst of the job\nhasn't come. You can do what you want with him right now. But\nafterward--when you get him out of the valley the hard thing will be to\nhold him.\"\n\n\"You're angry with poor David. What's he done now?\"\n\n\"Angry with him? Of course not! I'm a little disgusted, that's all.\"\n\n\"Tell me why in words of one syllable, Ben.\"\n\n\"You're too fine a sort to have understood. And I can't very well\nexplain.\"\n\nShe allowed herself to be puzzled for a moment and then laughed.\n\n\"Please don't be mysterious. Tell me frankly.\"\n\n\"Very well. I think you can make David go out of the valley when we go.\nBut once we have him back in a town the trouble will begin. You\nunderstand why he's so--fond of you, Ruth?\"\n\n\"Let's not talk about it.\"\n\n\"Sorry to make you blush. But you see, it isn't because you're so\npretty, Ruth, but simply because you're a woman. The first he's ever\nseen.\"\n\nAll her high coloring departed at once; a pale, sick face looked at\nConnor.\n\n\"Don't say it,\" murmured the girl. \"I thought last night just for a\nmoment--but I couldn't let myself think of it for an instant.\"\n\n\"I understand,\" said Connor gently. \"You took all that highfaluting\npoetry stuff to be the same thing. But, say, Ruth, I've heard a young\nbuck talk to a young squaw--before he married her. Just about the same\nline of junk, eh? What makes me sick is that when we get him out in a\ntown he'll lose his head entirely when he sees a room full of girls.\nWe'll simply have to plant a contract on him and--then let him go!\"\n\n\"Do you think it's only that?\" she said again, faintly.\n\n\"I leave it to you. Use your reason, and figure it out for yourself. I\ndon't mean that you're in any danger. You know you're not as long as I'm\naround!\"\n\nShe thanked him with a wan smile.\n\n\"But how can I let him come near me--now?\"\n\n\"It's a mess. I'm sorry about it. But once the deal goes through I'll\nmake this up to you if it takes me the rest of my life. You believe me?\"\n\n\"I know you're true blue, Ben! And--I trust you.\"\n\nHe was a little disturbed to find that his pulse was decidedly quickened\nby that simple speech.\n\n\"Besides, I want to thank you for letting me know this. I understand\neverything about him now!\"\n\nIn her heart of hearts she was hating David with all her might. For all\nnight long, in her dreams, she had been seeing again the gestures of\nthose strong brown hands, and the flash of his eyes, and hearing the\ndeep tremor of his voice. The newness of this primitive man and his ways\nand words had been an intoxicant to her; because of his very difference\nshe was a little afraid, and now the warning of Connor chimed in\naccurately with a premonition of her own. That adulation poured at the\nfeet of Ruth Manning had been a beautiful and marvelous thing; but flung\ndown simply in honor of her sex it became almost an insult. The memory\nmade her shudder. The ideal lover whom she had prefigured in some of her\nwaking dreams had always spoken with ardor--a holy ardor. From this\npassion of the body she recoiled.\n\nSomething of all this Connor read in her face and in her thoughtful\nsilence, and he was profoundly contented. He had at once neutralized all\nof David's eloquence and fortified his own position. It was both a blow\ndriven home and a counter. Not that he would admit a love for the girl;\nhe had merely progressed as far as jealousy. He told himself that his\nonly interest was in keeping her from an emotion which, once developed,\nmight throw her entirely on the side of David and ruin their joint\nplans. He had refused to accompany the master of the Garden and the girl\non their ride through the valley because, as he told himself, he\n\"couldn't stand seeing another grown man make such an ass of himself\" as\nDavid did when he was talking with the girl.\n\nHe contented himself now with watching her face when David came back to\nthe patio, followed by Glani and the neat-stepping little mare, Tabari.\nThe forced smile with which she met the big man was a personal triumph\nto the gambler.\n\n\"If you can win her under that handicap, David,\" he said softly to\nhimself, \"you deserve her, and everything else you can get.\"\n\nDavid helped her into the saddle on Tabari, and himself sprang onto the\npad upon Glani's back. They went out side by side.\n\nIt was a cool day for that season, and the moment the north wind struck\nthem David shouted softly and sent Glani at a rushing gallop straight\ninto the teeth of the wind. Tabari followed at a pace which Ruth, expert\nhorse-woman though she was, had never dreamed of. For the first time she\nhad that impression of which Ben Connor had spoken to her of the horse\npouring itself over the road without strain and without jar of smashing\nhoofs.\n\nRuth let Tabari extend herself, until the mare was racing with ears flat\nagainst her neck. She had even an impression that Glani, burdened by the\ngreat weight of David, was being left behind, but when she glanced to\nthe side she saw that the master half a length back, was keeping a\nstrong pull on the stallion, and Glani went smoothly, easily, with\nenormous strides, and fretting at the restraint.\n\nShe gained two things from that glance. The first was a sense of\nimpatience because the stallion kept up so easily; in the second place,\nthe same wind which drove the long hair of David straight back blew all\nsuspicious thoughts out of her mind. She drew Tabari back to a hand\ngallop and then to a walk with her eyes dimmed by the wind of the ride\nand the blood tingling in her cheeks.\n\n\"It was like having wings,\" she cried happily as David let the stallion\ncome up abreast.\n\n\"Tabari is sturdy, but she lacks speed,\" said the dispassionate master.\n\"When she was a foal of six months and was brought to me for judgment, I\nthought twice, because her legs were short. However, it is well that she\nwas allowed to live and breed.\"\n\n\"Allowed to live?\" murmured Ruth Manning.\n\n\"To keep the line of the gray horse perfect,\" said David, \"they must be\nwatched with a jealous eye, and those which are weak must not live. The\nmares are killed and the stallions gelded and sold.\"\n\n\"And can you judge the little colts?\"\n\nHer voice was too low for David to catch a sense of pain and anger in\nit.\n\n\"It must be done. It is a duty. To-day is the sixth month of Timeh, the\ndaughter of Juri. You shall witness the judging. Elijah is the master.\"\n\nHis face hardened at the name of Elijah, and the girl caught her breath.\nBut before she could speak they broke out of a grove and came in view of\na wide meadow across which four yoked cattle drew a harrow, smoothing\nthe plow furrows to an even, black surface.\n\nIt carried the girl far back; it was like opening an ancient book of\nstill more ancient tales; the musty smell completes the illusion. The\ncattle plodding slowly on, seeming to rest at every step, filled in the\npicture of which the primitive David Eden was the central figure.\n\n\"Yokes,\" she cried. \"I've never seen them before!\"\n\n\"For some work we use the horses, but the jerking of the harrow ruins\ntheir shoulders. Besides, we may need the cattle for a new journey.\"\n\n\"A journey? With those?\"\n\n\"That was how the four came into the Garden. And I am enjoined to have\nthe strong wagons always ready and the ox teams always complete in case\nit becomes necessary to leave this valley and go elsewhere. Of course,\nthat may never be.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT_\n\n\nHe brought Glani to a halt. They had left the sight of the meadow,\nthough they could still hear the snorting of the oxen at their labor, a\ndistant sound. Here, on one side of the road, the forest tumbled back\nfrom a swale of ground across which a tiny stream leaped and flashed\nwith crooked speed, and the ground seemed littered with bright gold, so\nclosely were the yellow wild flowers packed.\n\n\"Two days ago,\" said David, \"they were only buds. See them now!\"\n\nHe slipped from his horse and, stooping, rose again in a moment with his\nhands full of the yellow blossoms.\n\n\"They have a fragrance that makes them seem far away,\" he said. \"See!\"\n\nHe tossed the flowers at her; the wind caught them and spangled her hair\nand her clothes with them, and she breathed a rare perfume. David fell\nto clapping his hands and laughing like a child at the picture she made.\nShe had never liked him so well as she did at this moment. She had never\npitied him as she did now; she was not wise enough to shrink from that\nemotion.\n\n\"It was made for you--this place.\"\n\nAnd before she could move to defend herself he had raised her strongly,\nlightly from the saddle, and placed her on the knoll in the thickest of\nthe flowers. He stood back to view his work, nodding his satisfaction,\nand she, looking up at him, felt the old sense of helplessness sweep\nover her. Every now and then David Eden overwhelmed her like an\ninescapable destiny; there was something foredoomed about the valley and\nabout him.\n\n\"I knew you would look like this,\" he was saying. \"How do men make a\njewel seem more beautiful? They set it in gold! And so with you, Ruth.\nYour hair against the gold is darker and richer and more like piles and\ncoils of shadow. Your face against the gold is the transparent white,\nwith a bloom in it. Your hands are half lost in the softness of that\ngold. And to think that is a picture you can never see! But I forget.\"\n\nHis face grew dark.\n\n\"Here I have stumbled again, and yet I started with strong vows and\nresolves. My brother Benjamin warned me!\"\n\nIt shocked her for a reason she could not analyze to hear the big man\ncall Connor his brother. Connor, the gambler, the schemer! And here was\nDavid Eden with the green of the trees behind, his feet in the golden\nwild flowers, and the blue sky behind his head. Brother to Ben Connor?\n\n\"And how did he warn you?\" she asked.\n\n\"That I must not talk to you of yourself, because, he said, it shames\nyou. Is that true?\"\n\n\"I suppose it is,\" she murmured. Yet she was a little indignant because\nConnor had presumed to interfere. She knew he could only have done it to\nsave her from embarrassment, but she rebelled at the thought of Connor\nas her conversational guardian.\n\nPut a guard over David of Eden, and what would he be? Just like a score\nof callow youths whom she had known, scattering foolish commonplaces,\ntrying to make their dull eyes tell her flattering things which they had\nnot brains enough to put into words.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" said David, sighing. \"It is hard to stand here and see\nyou, and not talk of what I see. When the sun rises the birds sing in\nthe trees; when I see you words come up to my teeth.\"\n\nHe made a grimace. \"Well, I'll shut them in. Have I been very wrong in\nmy talk to you?\"\n\n\"I think you haven't talked to many women,\" said Ruth. \"And--most men do\nnot talk as you do.\"\n\n\"Most men are fools,\" answered the egoist. \"What I say to you is the\ntruth, but if the truth offends you I shall talk of other things.\"\n\nHe threw himself on the ground sullenly. \"Of what shall I talk?\"\n\n\"Of nothing, perhaps. Listen!\"\n\nFor the great quiet of the valley was falling on her, and the distances\nover which her eyes reached filled her with the delightful sense of\nsilence. There were deep blue mountains piled against the paler sky;\ndown the slope and through the trees the river was untarnished, solid,\nsilver; in the boughs behind her the wind whispered and then stopped to\nlisten likewise. There was a faint ache in her heart at the thought that\nshe had not known such things all her life. She knew then what gave the\nface of David of Eden its solemnity. She leaned a little toward him.\n\"Now tell me about yourself. What you have done.\"\n\n\"Of anything but that.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"No more than I want you to tell me about yourself and what you have\ndone. What you feel, what you think from time to time, I wish to know; I\nam very happy to know. I fit in those bits of you to the picture I have\nmade.\"\n\nOnce more the egoist was talking!\n\n\"But to have you tell me of what you have done--that is not pleasant. I\ndo not wish to know that you have talked to other men and smiled on\nthem. I do not wish to know of a single happy day you spent before you\ncame to the Garden of Eden. But I shall tell you of the four men who are\nmy masters if you wish.\"\n\n\"Tell me of them if you will.\"\n\n\"Very well. John was the beginning. He died before I came. Of the others\nMatthew was my chief friend. He was very old and thin. His wrist was\nsmaller than yours, almost. His hair was a white mist. In the evening\nthere seemed to be a pale moonshine around his face.\n\n\"He was very small and old--so old that sometimes I thought he would dry\nup or dissolve and disappear. Toward the last, before God called him,\nMatthew grew weak, and his voice was faint, yet it was never sharp or\nshaken. Also, until the very end his eyes were young, for his heart was\nyoung.\n\n\"That was Matthew. He was like you. He liked the silence. 'Listen,' he\nwould say. 'The great stillness is the voice; God is speaking.' Then he\nwould raise one thin finger and we caught our breath and listened.\n\n\"Do you see him?\"\n\n\"I see him, and I wish that I had known him.\"\n\n\"Of the others, Luke was taller than I. He had yellow hair as long and\nas coarse as the mane of a yellow horse. When he rode around the lake we\ncould hear him coming for a great distance by his singing, for his voice\nwas as strong as the neigh of Glani. I have only to close my eyes, and I\ncan hear that singing of Luke from beside the lake. Ah, he was a huge\nman! The horses sweated under him.\n\n\"His beard was long; it came to the middle of his belly; it had a great\nblunt square end. Once I angered him. I crept to him when he slept--I\nwas a small boy then--and I trimmed the beard down to a point.\n\n\"When Luke wakened he felt the beard and sat for a long time looking at\nme. I was so afraid that I grew numb, I remember. Then he went to the\nRoom of Silence. When he came out his anger was gone, but he punished\nme. He took me to the lake and caught me by the heels and swung me\naround his head. When he loosened his fingers I shot into the air like a\nlight stone. The water flashed under me, and when I struck the surface\nseemed solid. I thought it was death, for my senses went out, but Luke\nwaded in and dragged me back to the shore. However, his beard remained\npointed till he died.\"\n\nHe chuckled at the memory.\n\n\"Paul reproved Luke for what he had done. Paul was a big man, also, but\nhe was short, and his bigness lay in his breadth. He had no hair, and he\nstood under Luke nodding so that the sun flashed back and forth on his\nbald head. He told Luke that I might have been killed.\n\n\"'Better teach him sober manners now,' said Luke, 'than be a jester to\nknock at the gate of God.'\n\n\"This Paul was wonderfully silent. He was born unhappy and nothing could\nmake him smile. He used to wander through the valley alone in the middle\nof winter, half dead with cold and eating nothing. In those times, even\nLuke was not strong enough to make him come home to us.\n\n\"I know that for ten days at one time he had gone without speech. For\nthat reason he loved to have Joseph with him, because Joseph understood\nsigns.\n\n\"But when silence left him, Paul was great in speech. Luke spoke in a\nloud voice and Matthew beautifully, but Paul was terrible. He would fall\non his knees in an agony and pray to God for salvation for us and for\nhimself. While he kneeled he seemed to grow in size. He filled the room.\nAnd his words were like whips. They made me think of all my sins. That\nis how I remember Paul, kneeling, with his long arms thrown over his\nhead.\n\n\"Matthew died in the evening just as the moon rose. He was sitting\nbeside me. He put his hand in mine. After a while I felt that the hand\nwas cold, and when I looked at Matthew his head had fallen.\n\n\"Paul died in a drift of snow. We always knew that he had been on his\nknees praying when the storms struck him and he would not rise until he\nhad finished the prayer.\n\n\"Luke bowed his head one day at the table and died without a sound--in\nspite of all his strength.\n\n\"All these men have not really died out of the valley. They are here,\nlike mists; they are faces of thin air. Sometimes when I sit alone at my\ntable, I can almost see a spirit-hand like that of Matthew rise with a\nshadow-glass of wine.\n\n\"But shall I tell you a strange thing? Since you came into the valley,\nthese mist-images of my dead masters grow faint and thinner than ever.\"\n\n\"You will remember me, also, when I have gone?\"\n\n\"Do not speak of it! But yes, if you should go, every spring, when these\nyellow flowers blossom, you would return to me and sit as you are\nsitting now. However you are young, yet there are ways. After Matthew\ndied, for a long time I kept fresh flowers in his room and kept his\nmemory fresh with them. But,\" he repeated, \"you are young. Do not talk\nof death!\"\n\n\"Not of death, but of leaving the Garden.\"\n\nHe stared gravely at her, and flushed.\n\n\"You are tormenting me as I used to torment my masters when I was a boy.\nBut it is wrong to anger me. Besides I shall not let you go.\"\n\n\"Not _let_ me go?\"\n\n\"Am I a fool?\" he asked hotly. \"Why should I let you go?\"\n\n\"You could not keep me.\"\n\nIt brought him to his feet with a start.\n\n\"What will free you?\"\n\n\"Your own honor, David.\"\n\nHis head fell.\n\n\"It is true. Yes, it is true. But let us ride on. I no longer am pleased\nwith this place. It is tarnished; there are unhappy thoughts here!\"\n\n\"What a child he is!\" thought the girl, as she climbed into the saddle\nagain. \"A selfish, terrible, wonderful child!\"\n\nIt seemed, after that, that the purpose of David was to show the\nbeauties of the Garden to her until she could not brook the thought of\nleaving. He told her what grew in each meadow and what could be reaped\nfrom it.\n\nHe told her what fish were caught in the river and the lake. He talked\nof the trees. He swung down from Glani, holding with hand and heel, and\npicked strange flowers and showed them to her.\n\n\"What a place for a house!\" she said, when, near the north wall, they\npassed a hill that overlooked the entire length of the valley.\n\n\"I shall build you a house there,\" said David eagerly. \"I shall build it\nof strong rock. Would that make you happy? Very tall, with great rooms.\"\n\nAn impish desire to mock him came to her.\n\n\"Do you know what I'm used to? It's a boarding house where I live in a\nlittle back bedroom, and they call us to meals with a bell.\"\n\nThe humor of this situation entirely failed to appeal to him.\n\n\"I also,\" he said, \"have a bell. And it shall be used to call you to\ndinner, if you wish.\"\n\nHe was so grave that she did not dare to laugh. But for some reason that\nmoment of bantering brought the big fellow much closer to her than he\nhad been before. And when she saw him so docile to her wishes, for all\nhis strength and his mastery, the only thing that kept her from opening\nher heart to him, and despising the game which she and Connor were\nplaying with him, was the warning of the gambler.\n\n\"I've heard a young buck talk to a young squaw--before he married her.\nThe same line of junk!\"\n\nConnor must be right. He came from the great city.\n\nBut before that ride was over she was repeating that warning very much\nas Odysseus used the flower of Hermes against the arts of Circe. For the\nGarden of Eden, as they came back to the house after the circuit, seemed\nto her very much like a little kingdom, and the monarch thereof was\ninviting her in dumb-show to be the queen of the realm.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE_\n\n\nAt the house they were met by one of the servants who had been waiting\nfor David to receive from the master definite orders concerning some\nwoodchopping. For the trees of the garden were like children to David of\nEden, and he allowed only the ones he himself designated to be cut for\ntimber or fuel. He left the girl with manifest reluctance.\n\n\"For when I leave you of what do you think, and what do you do? I am\nlike the blind.\"\n\nShe felt this speech was peculiar in character. Who but David of Eden\ncould have been jealous of the very thoughts of another? And smiling at\nthis, she went into the patio where Ben Connor was still lounging. Few\nthings had ever been more gratifying to the gambler than the sight of\nthe girl's complacent smile, for he knew that she was judging David.\n\n\"What happened?\" he asked.\n\n\"Nothing worth repeating. But I think you're wrong, Ben. He isn't a\nbarbarian. He's just a child.\"\n\n\"That's another word for the same thing. Ever see anything more brutal\nthan a child? The wildest savage that ever stepped is a saint compared\nwith a ten-year-old boy.\"\n\n\"Perhaps. He acts like ten years. When I mention leaving the valley he\nflies into a tantrum; he has taken me so much for granted that he has\neven picked out the site for my house.\"\n\n\"As if you'd ever stay in a place like this!\"\n\nHe covered his touch of anxiety with loud laughter.\n\n\"I don't know,\" she was saying thoughtfully a moment later. \"I like\nit--a lot.\"\n\n\"Anything seems pretty good after Lukin. But when your auto is buzzing\ndown Broadway--\"\n\nShe interrupted him with a quick little laugh of excitement.\n\n\"But do you really think I can make him leave the valley?\"\n\n\"Of course I'm sure.\"\n\n\"He says there's a law against it.\"\n\n\"I tell you, Ruth, you're his law now; not whatever piffle is in that\nRoom of Silence.\"\n\nShe looked earnestly at the closed door. Her silence had always bothered\nthe gambler, and this one particularly annoyed him.\n\n\"Let's hear your thoughts?\" he asked uneasily.\n\n\"It's just an idea of mine that inside that room we can find out\neverything we want to know about David Eden.\"\n\n\"What do we want to know?\" growled Connor. \"I know everything that's\nnecessary. He's a nut with a gang of the best horses that ever stepped.\nI'm talking horse, not David Eden. If I have to make the fool rich, it\nisn't because I want to.\"\n\nShe returned no direct answer, but after a moment: \"I wish I knew.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nShe became profoundly serious.\n\n\"The point is this: he _may_ be something more than a boy or a savage.\nAnd if he _is_ something more, he's the finest man I've ever laid eyes\non. That's why I want to get inside that room. That's why I want to\nlearn the secret--if there is a secret--the things he believes in, how\nhe happens to be what he is and how--\"\n\nConnor had endured her rising warmth of expression as long as he could.\nNow he exploded.\n\n\"You do me one favor,\" he cried excitedly, more moved than she had ever\nseen him before. \"Let me do your thinking for you when it comes to other\nmen. You take my word about this David Eden. Bah! When I have you fixed\nup in little old Manhattan you'll forget about him and his mystery\ninside a week. Will you lay off on the thinking?\"\n\nShe nodded absently. In reality she was struck by the first similarity\nshe had ever noticed between David of Eden and Connor the gambler:\nwithin ten minutes they had both expressed remarkable concern as to what\nmight be her innermost thoughts. She began to feel that Connor himself\nmight have elements of the boy in his make up--the cruel boy which he\nprotested was in David Eden.\n\nShe had many reasons for liking Connor. For one thing he had offered\nher an escape from her old imprisoned life. Again he had flattered her\nin the most insinuating manner by his complete trust. She knew that\nthere was not one woman in ten thousand to whom he would have confided\nhis great plan, and not one in a million whose ability to execute his\nscheme he would have trusted.\n\nMore than this, before her trip to the Garden he had given her a large\nsum of money for the purchase of the Indian's gelding; and Ruth Manning\nhad learned to appreciate money. He had not asked for any receipt. His\nattitude had been such that she had not even been able to mention that\nsubject.\n\nYet much as she liked Connor there were many things about him which\njarred on her. There was a hardness, always working to the surface like\nrocks on a hard soil. Worst of all, sometimes she felt a degree of\nuncleanliness about his mind and its working. She would not have\nrecoiled from these things had he been nearer her own age; but in a man\nwell over thirty she felt that these were fixed characteristics.\n\nHe was in all respects the antipode of David of Eden. It was easier to\nbe near Connor, but not so exciting. David wore her out, but he also was\nmarvelously stimulating. The dynamic difference was that Connor\nsometimes inspired her with aversion, and David made her afraid. She was\nroused out of her brooding by the voice of the gambler saying: \"When a\nwoman begins to think, a man begins to swear.\"\n\nShe managed to smile, but these cheap little pat quotations which she\nhad found amusing enough at first now began to grate on her through\nrepetition. Just as Connor tagged and labeled his idea with this\naphorism, so she felt that Connor himself was tagged by them. She found\nhim considering her with some anxiety.\n\n\"You haven't begun to doubt me, Ruth?\" he asked her.\n\nAnd he put out his hand with a note of appeal. It was a new role for him\nand she at once disliked it. She shook the hand heartily.\n\n\"That's a foolish thing to say,\" she assured him. \"But--why does that\nold man keep sneaking around us?\"\n\nIt was Zacharias, who for some time had been prowling around the patio\ntrying to find something to do which would justify his presence.\n\n\"Do you think David Eden keeps him here as a spy on us?\"\n\nThis was too much for even Connor's suspicious mind, and he chuckled.\n\n\"They all want to hang around and have a look at you--that's the point,\"\nhe answered. \"Speak to him and you'll see him come running.\"\n\nIt needed not even speech; she smiled and nodded at Zacharias, and he\ncame to her at once with a grin of pleasure wrinkling his ancient face.\nShe invited him to sit down.\n\n\"I never see you resting,\" she said.\n\n\"David dislikes an idler,\" said Zacharias, who acknowledged her\ninvitation by dropping his withered hands on the back of the chair, but\nmade no move to sit down.\n\n\"But after all these years you have worked for him, I should think he\nwould give you a little house of your own, and nothing to do except take\ncare of yourself.\"\n\nHe listened to her happily, but it was evident from his pause that he\nhad not gathered the meaning of her words.\n\n\"You come from the South?\" he asked at length.\n\n\"My father came from Tennessee.\"\n\nThere was an electric change in the face of the Negro.\n\n\"Oh, Lawd, oh, Lawd!\" he murmured, his voice changing and thickening a\nlittle toward the soft Southern accent. \"That's music to old\nZacharias!\"\n\n\"Do you come from Tennessee, Zacharias?\"\n\nAgain there was a pause as the thoughts of Zacharias fled back to the\nold days.\n\n\"Everything in between is all shadowy like evening, but what I remember\nmost is the little houses on both sides of the road with the gardens\nbehind them, and the babies rolling in the dust and shouting and their\nmammies coming to the doors to watch them.\"\n\n\"How long ago was that?\" she asked, deeply touched.\n\nHe grew troubled.\n\n\"Many and many a year ago--oh, many a long, weary year, for Zacharias!\"\n\n\"And you still think of the old days?\"\n\n\"When the bees come droning in the middle of the day, sometimes I think\nof them.\"\n\nHe struck his hands lightly together and his misty-bright eyes were\nplainly looking through sixty years as though they were a day.\n\n\"But why did you leave?\" asked Ruth tenderly.\n\nZacharias slowly drew his eyes away from the mists of the past and\nbecame aware of the girl's face once more.\n\n\"Because my soul was burning in sin. It was burning and burning!\"\n\n\"But wouldn't you like to go back?\"\n\nThe head of Zacharias fell and he knitted his fingers.\n\n\"Coming to the Garden of Eden was like coming into heaven. There's no\nway of getting out again without breaking the law. The Garden is just\nlike heaven!\"\n\nConnor spoke for the first time.\n\n\"Or hell!\" he exclaimed.\n\nIt caused Ruth Manning to cry out at him softly; Zacharias was mute.\n\n\"Why did you say that?\" said the girl, growing angry.\n\n\"Because I hate to see a bad bargain,\" said the gambler. \"And it looks\nto me as if our friend here paid pretty high for anything he gets out of\nthe Garden.\"\n\nHe turned sharply to Zacharias.\n\n\"How long have you been working here?\"\n\n\"Sixty years. Long years!\"\n\n\"And what have you out of it? What clothes?\"\n\n\"Enough to wear.\"\n\n\"What food?\"\n\n\"Enough to eat.\"\n\n\"A house of your own?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Land of your own?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Sixty years and not a penny saved! That's what I call a sharp bargain!\nWhat else have you gained?\"\n\n\"A good bright hope of heaven.\"\n\n\"But are you sure, Zacharias? Are you sure? Isn't it possible that all\nthese five masters of yours may have been mistaken?\"\n\nZacharias could only stare in his horror. Finally he turned away and\nwent silently across the patio.\n\n\"Ben,\" cried the girl softly, \"why did you do it? Aside from torturing\nthe poor man, what if this comes to David's ear?\"\n\nConnor snapped his finger. His manner was that of one who knows that he\nhas taken a foolish risk and wishes to brazen the matter out.\n\n\"It'll never come to the ear of David! Why? Because he'd wring the neck\nof the old chap if he even guessed that he'd been talking about leaving\nthe valley. And in the meantime I cut away the ground beneath David's\nfeet. He has not standing room, pretty soon. Nothing left to him, by\nJove, but his own conceit, and he has tons of that! Well, let him use it\nand get fat on it!\"\n\nShe wondered why Connor had come to actually hate the master of the\nGarden. Sure David of Eden had never harmed the gambler. She remembered\nsomething that she had heard long before: that the hatred always lies on\nthe side of injurer and not of the injured.\n\nThey heard David's voice, at this point, approaching, and in another\nmoment a small cavalcade entered the patio.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER THIRTY_\n\n\nFirst, a white flash beneath the shadow of the arched way, came a colt\nat full run, stopping short with four sprawling, braced feet at the\nsight of the strangers. It was not fear so much as surprise, for now it\npricked its ears and advanced a dainty step or two. Ruth cried out with\ndelight at the fawn-like beauty of the delicate creature. The Eden Gray\nwas almost white in the little colt, and with its four dark stockings it\nseemed, when it ran, to be stepping on thin air. That impression was\nhelped by the comparatively great length of the legs.\n\nNext came the mother, walking, as though she was quite confident that no\nharm could come to her colt in this home of all good things, but with\nher fine head held high and her eyes luminous with concern, a little\nanxious because the youngster had been out of sight for a moment.\n\nAnd behind them strode David with Elijah at his side.\n\nRuth could never have recognized Elijah as the statuesque figure which\nhad confronted David on the previous day. He was now bowing and scraping\nlike some withered old man, striving to make a good impression on a\ncreditor to whom a great sum was owing. She remembered then what David\nhad told her earlier in the day about the judging of Timeh, the daughter\nof Juri. This, then, was the crisis, and here was Elijah striving to\nconciliate the grim judge. The old man kept up a running fire of talk\nwhile David walked slowly around the colt. Ruth wondered why the master\nof the Garden did not cry out with pleasure at sight of the beautiful\ncreature. Connor had drawn her back a little.\n\n\"You see that six months' mare?\" he said softly, with a tremor in his\nvoice. \"I'd pay ten thousand flat for her the way she stands. Ten\nthousand--more if it were asked!\"\n\n\"But David doesn't seem very pleased.\"\n\n\"Bah! He's bursting with pleasure. But he won't let on because he\ndoesn't want to flatter old Elijah.\"\n\n\"If he doesn't pass the colt do you know what happens?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"They kill it!\"\n\n\"I'd a lot rather see them kill a man!\" snarled Connor. \"But they won't\ntouch _that_ colt!\"\n\n\"I don't know. Look at poor Elijah!\"\n\nDavid, stopping in his circular walk, now stood with his arms folded,\ngazing intently at Timeh. Elijah was a picture of concern. The whites of\nhis eyes flashed as his glances rolled swiftly from the colt to the\nmaster. Once or twice he tried to speak, but seemed too nervous to give\nvoice.\n\nAt length: \"A true daughter of Juri, O David. And was there ever a more\nhonest mare than Juri? The same head, mark you, deep from the eye to the\nangle of the jaw. And under the head--come hither, Timeh!\"\n\nTimeh flaunted her heels at the sun and then came with short, mincing\nsteps.\n\n\"At six months,\" boasted Elijah, \"she knows my voice as well as her\nmother. Stay, Juri!\"\n\nThe inquisitive mare had followed Timeh, but now, reassured, she dropped\nher head and began cropping the turf of the patio. Still, from the play\nof her ears, it was evident that Timeh was not out of the mother's\nthoughts for an instant.\n\n\"Look you, David!\" said Elijah. He raised the head of Timeh by putting\nhis hand beneath her chin.\n\n\"I can put my whole hand between the angles of her jaw! And see how her\nears flick back and forth, like the twitching ears of a cat! Ha, is not\nthat a sign?\"\n\nHe allowed the head to fall again, but he caught it under his arms and\nfaced David in this manner, throwing out his hand in appeal. Still David\nspoke not a word.\n\nWith a gesture he made Elijah move to one side. Then he stepped to\nTimeh. She was uneasy at his coming, but under the first touch of his\nhand Timeh became as still as rock and looked at her mother in a scared\nand helpless fashion. It seemed that Juri understood a great crisis was\nat hand; for now she advanced resolutely and with her dainty muzzle she\nfollowed with sniffs the hand of David as it moved over the little colt.\nHe seemed to be seeing with his finger-tips alone, kneading under the\nskin in search of vital information. Along the muscles those dexterous\nfingers ran, and down about the heavy bones of the joints, where they\nlingered long, seeming to read a story in every crevice.\n\nNever once did he speak, but Ruth felt that she could read words in the\nbrightening, calm, and sudden shadows across his face.\n\nElijah accompanied the examination with a running-fire of comment.\n\n\"There is quality in those hoofs, for you! None of your gray-blue stuff\nlike the hoofs of Tabari, say, but black as night and dense as rock.\nAye, David, you may well let your hand linger down that neck. She will\nstep freely, this Timeh of mine, and stride as far as a mountain-lion\ncan leap! Withers high enough. That gives a place for the ligaments to\ntake hold. A good long back, but not too long to carry a weight. She\nwill not be one of your gaunt-bellied horses, either; she will have wind\nand a bottom for running. She will gallop on the third day of the\njourney as freely as on the first. And she will carry her tail well out,\nalways, with that big, strong dock.\"\n\nHe paused a moment, for David was moving his hands over the hindlegs and\nlingering long at the hocks. And the face of Elijah grew convulsed with\nanxiety.\n\n\"Is there anything wrong with those legs?\" murmured Ruth to Connor.\n\n\"Not a thing that I see. Maybe the stifles are too straight. I think\nthey might angle out a bit more. But that's nothing serious. Besides, it\nmay be the way Timeh is standing. What's the matter?\"\n\nShe was clinging to his arm, white-faced.\n\n\"If that colt has to die I--I'll want to kill David Eden!\"\n\n\"Hush, Ruth! And don't let him see your face!\"\n\nDavid moved back from Timeh and again folded his arms.\n\n\"The body of the horse is one thing,\" ran on Elijah uneasily, \"and the\nspirit is another. Have you not told us, David, that a curious colt\nmakes a wise horse? That is Timeh! Where will you guess that I found her\nwhen I went to bring her to you even now? She had climbed up the face of\nthe cliff, far up a crevice where a man would not dare to go. I dared\nnot even cry out to her for fear she would fall if she turned her head.\nTo have climbed so high was almost impossible, but how would she come\ndown when there was no room for her to turn?\n\n\"I was dizzy and sick with grief. But Timeh saw me, and down she came,\nwithout turning. She lifted her hoofs and put them down as a cat lifts\nand puts down wet paws. And in a moment she was safe on the meadow and\nfrisking around me. Juri had been so worried that she made Timeh stop\nrunning and nosed her all over to make sure that she was unhurt by that\nclimb. But tell me: will not a colt that risks its life to climb for a\ntuft of grass, run till its heart breaks for the master in later years?\"\n\nFor the first time David spoke.\n\n\"Is she so wise a colt?\" he said.\n\n\"Wise?\" cried Elijah, his eye shining with joy at the opening which he\nhad made. \"I talk to her as I talk to a man. She is as full of tricks as\na dog. Look, now!\"\n\nHe leaned over and pretended to pick at the grass, whereat Timeh stole\nup behind him and drew out a handkerchief from his hip pocket. Off she\nraced and came back in a flashing circle to face Elijah with the cloth\nfluttering in her teeth.\n\n\"So!\" cried Elijah, taking the handkerchief again and looking eagerly at\nthe master of the Garden. \"Was there ever a colt like my Timeh?\"\n\n\"The back legs,\" said David slowly.\n\nElijah had been preparing himself to speak again, with a smile. He was\narrested in the midst of a gesture and his face altered like a man at\nthe banquet at the news of a death.\n\n\"The hind legs, David,\" he echoed hollowly. \"But what of them? They are\na small part of the whole! And they are not wrong. They are not very\nwrong, oh my master!\"\n\n\"The hocks are sprung in and turned a little.\"\n\n\"A very little. Only the eye of David could see it and know that it is\nwrong!\"\n\n\"A small flaw makes the stone break. At a rotten knot-hole the great\ntree snaps in the storm. And a small sin may undermine a good man. The\nhind legs are wrong, Elijah.\"\n\n\"To be sure. In a colt. Many things seem wrong in a colt, but in the\ngrown horse they disappear!\"\n\n\"This fault will not disappear. It is the set of the joint and that can\nnever be changed. It can only grow worse.\"\n\nElijah, staring straight ahead, was searching his brain, but that brain\nwas numbed by the calamity which had befallen him. He could only stroke\nthe lovely head of the little colt and pray for help.\n\n\"Yesterday,\" he said at length in a trembling voice, \"Elijah, as a fool,\nspoke words which angered his master. Back on my head I call them now.\nDavid, do not judge Timeh with a wrathful heart.\n\n\"Let the sins of Elijah fall on the head of Elijah, but let Timeh go\nunpunished for my faults.\"\n\n\"You grow old, Elijah, and you forget. The judgment of David is never\ncolored by his own likes and dislikes, his own wishes and prejudice. He\nsees the right, and therefore his judgments are true.\"\n\n\"Aye, David, but truth is not merciful, and blessed above all things is\nmercy. When you see Timeh, think of Elijah. How he has watched over the\ncolt, and loved it, and played with it, and taught it, by the hours, the\nproper manners for a colt and a mare of the Garden of Eden.\"\n\n\"That is true. It is a well-mannered colt.\"\n\nElijah caught at a new straw of hope.\n\n\"Also, in the field, if two colts race home for water and Timeh is one,\nshe reaches the water first--always. She comes to me like a child. In\nthe morning she slips out of the paddock, and coming to my window, she\nputs in her head and calls me with a whinny as soft as the voice of a\nman. Then I arise and go out to her and to Juri.\"\n\nRuth was weeping openly, her hand closed hard on the arm of Connor; and\nshe felt the muscles along that arm contract. She almost loved the\ngambler for his rage at the inexorable David.\n\n\"Consider Juri, also,\" said Elijah. \"Seven times--I numbered them on my\nfingers and remembered--seven times when the horses were brought before\nyou in the morning, you have called to Juri and mounted her for the\nmorning ride--that was before Glani was raised to his full strength. And\nalways the master has said:\n\n\"'Stout-hearted Juri! She pours out her strength for her rider as a\ngenerous host pours out his wine!'\"\n\nDavid frowned, but plainly he was touched.\n\n\"Juri!\" he called, and when the noble mare came to him, he laid his hand\non her mane.\n\n\"Who has spoken of Juri? Surely I am not judging her this day. It was\nMatthew who judged her when she was a foal of six months.\"\n\n\"And it was Matthew,\" added Elijah hastily, \"who loved her above all\nhorses!\"\n\n\"Ah!\" muttered David, deeply moved.\n\n\"Consider the heart of Juri,\" went on Elijah, timidly following this new\nthread of argument. \"When the mares neigh and the colts come running,\nthere will be none to gallop to her side. When she goes out in the\nmorning there will be no daughter to gallop around and around her,\ntossing her head and her heels. And when she comes home at night there\nwill be no tired foal leaning against her side for weariness.\"\n\n\"Peace, Elijah! You speak against the law.\"\n\nIn spite of himself, the glance of Elijah turned slowly and sullenly\nuntil it rested upon Ruth Manning. David followed the direction of that\nlook and he understood. There stood the living evidence that he had\nbroken the law of the Garden at least once. He flushed darkly.\n\n\"The colt's gone,\" said Connor in a savagely-controlled murmur to the\ngirl. \"That devil has made up his mind. His pride is up now!\"\n\nElijah, too, seemed to realize that he had thrown away his last chance.\n\nHe could only stretch out his hands with the tears streaming down his\nwrinkled face and repeat in his broken voice: \"Mercy, David, mercy for\nTimeh and Juri and Elijah!\"\n\nBut the face of David was iron.\n\n\"Look at Juri,\" he commanded. \"She is flawless, strong, sound of hoof\nand heart and limb. And that is because her sire and her mother before\nher were well seen to. No narrow forehead has ever been allowed to come\ninto the breed of the Eden Grays. I have heard Paul condemn a colt\nbecause the very ears were too long and flabby and the carriage of the\nhorse dull. The weak and the faulty have been gelded and sent from the\nGarden or else killed. And therefore Juri to-day is stout and noble, and\nGlani has a spirit of fire. It is not easy to do. But if I find a sin in\nmy own nature, do I not tear it out at a price of pain? And shall I\nspare a colt when I do not spare myself? A law is a law and a fault is a\nfault. Timeh must die!\"\n\nThe extended arms of Elijah fell. Connor felt Ruth surge forward from\nbeside him, but he checked her strongly.\n\n\"No use!\" he said. \"You could change a very devil more easily than you\ncan change David now! He's too proud to change his mind.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" sobbed the girl softly, \"I hate him! I hate him!\"\n\n\"Let Timeh live until the morning,\" said David in the same calm voice.\n\"Let Juri be spared this night of grief and uneasiness. If it is done in\nthe morning she will be less anxious until the dark comes, and by that\ntime the edge of her sorrow shall be dulled.\"\n\n\"Whose hand,\" asked Elijah faintly--\"whose hand must strike the blow?\"\n\n\"Yesterday,\" said David, \"you spoke to me a great deal of the laws of\nthe Garden and their breaking. Do you not know that law which says that\nhe from whose household the faulty mare foal has come must destroy it?\nYou know that law. Then let it not be said that Elijah, who so loves the\nlaw, has shirked his lawful burden!\"\n\nAt this final blow poor Elijah lifted his face.\n\n\"Lord God!\" he said, \"give me strength. It is more than I can bear!\"\n\n\"Go!\" commanded the master of the Garden.\n\nElijah turned slowly away. As if to show the way, Timeh galloped before\nhim.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE_\n\n\nDavid watched them go, and while his back was turned a fierce, soft\ndialogue passed between Ruth Manning and Ben Connor.\n\n\"Are you a man?\" she asked him, through her set teeth. \"Are you going to\nlet that beautiful little thing die?\"\n\n\"I'd rather see the cold-hearted fool die in place of Timeh. But what\ncan we do? Nothing. Just smile in his face.\"\n\n\"I hate him!\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"If you hate him, then use him. Will you?\"\n\n\"If I can make him follow me, tease him to come, make him think I love\nhim, I'll do it. I'd do anything to torture him.\"\n\n\"I told you he was a savage.\"\n\n\"You were right, Ben. A fiend--not a man! Oh, thank Heavens that I see\nthrough him.\"\n\nAnger gave her color and banished her tears. And when David turned he\nfound what seemed a picture of pleasure. It was infinitely grateful to\nhim. If he had searched and studied for the words he could not have\nfound anything to embitter her more than his first speech.\n\n\"And what do you think of the justice of David?\" he asked, coming to\nthem.\n\nShe could not speak; luckily Connor stepped in and filled the gap of\nawkward silence.\n\n\"A very fine thing to have done, Brother David,\" he said. \"Do you know\nwhat I thought of when I heard you talk?\"\n\n\"Of what?\" said David, composing his face to receive the compliment. At\nthat Ruth turned suddenly away, for she dared not trust her eyes, and\nthe hatred which burned in them.\n\n\"I thought of the old story of Abraham and Isaac. You were offering up\nsomething as dear to you as a child, almost, to the law of the Garden of\nEden.\"\n\n\"It is true,\" said David complacently. \"But when the flesh is diseased\nit must be burned away.\"\n\nHe called to Ruth: \"And you, Ruth?\"\n\nThis childish seeking after compliments made her smile, and naturally he\nmisjudged the smile.\n\n\"I think with Benjamin,\" she said softly.\n\n\"Yet my ways in the Garden must seem strange to you,\" went on David,\nexpanding in the warmth of his own sense of virtue. \"But you will grow\naccustomed to them, I know.\"\n\nThe opening was patent. She was beginning to nod her acquiescence when\nConnor, in alarm, tapped on the table, once and again in swift\ntelegraphy: \"No! No!\"\n\nThe faint smile went out on her face.\n\n\"No,\" she said to David.\n\nThe master of the Garden turned a glance of impatience and suspicion\nupon the gambler, but Connor carefully made his face a blank. He\ncontinued to drum idly on the edge of the table, and the idle drumming\nwas spelling to the girl's quick ear: \"Out!\"\n\n\"You cannot stay?\" murmured David.\n\nShe drank in his stunned expression. It was like music to her.\n\n\"Would you,\" she said, \"be happy away from the Garden, and the horses\nand your servants? No more am I happy away from my home.\"\n\n\"You are not happy with us?\" muttered David. \"You are not happy?\"\n\n\"Could you be away from the Garden?\"\n\n\"But that is different. The Garden was made by four wise men.\"\n\n\"By five wise men,\" said the girl. \"For you are the fifth.\"\n\nHe was so blind that he did not perceive the irony.\n\n\"And therefore,\" he said, \"the Garden is all that the heart should\ndesire. John and Matthew and Luke and Paul made it to fill that\npurpose.\"\n\n\"But how do you know they succeeded? You have not seen the world beyond\nthe mountains.\"\n\n\"It is full of deceit, hard hearts, cruelty, and cunning.\"\n\n\"It is full of my dear friends, David!\"\n\nShe thought of the colt and the mare and Elijah; and it became suddenly\neasy to lure and deceive this implacable judge of others. She touched\nthe arm of the master lightly with her finger tips and smiled.\n\n\"Come with me, and see my world!\"\n\n\"The law which the four made for me--I must not leave!\"\n\n\"Was it wrong to let me enter?\"\n\n\"You have made me happy,\" he argued slowly. \"You have made me happier\nthan I was before. And surely I could not have been made happy by that\nwhich is wrong. No, it was right to bring you into the valley. The\nmoment I looked at you I knew that it was right.\"\n\n\"Then, will it be wrong to go out with me? You need not stay! But see\nwhat lies beyond the mountains before you judge it!\"\n\nHe shook his head.\n\n\"Are you afraid? It will not harm you.\"\n\nHe flushed at that. And then began to walk up and down across the patio.\nShe saw Connor white with anxiety, but about Connor and his affairs she\nhad little concern at this moment. She felt only a cruel pleasure in her\ncontrol over this man, half savage and half child. Now he stopped\nabruptly before her.\n\n\"If the world, after I see it, still displeases me, when I return, will\nyou come with me, Ruth? Will you come back to the Garden of Eden?\"\n\nIn the distance Ben Connor was gesturing desperately to make her say\nyes. But she could not resist a pause--a pause in which torment showed\non the face of David. And then, deliberately, she made her eyes\nsoften--made her lips smile.\n\n\"Yes, David, I will come back!\"\n\nHe leaned a little toward her, then straightened with a shudder and\ncrossed the patio to the Room of Silence. Behind that door he\ndisappeared, and left Connor and the girl alone. The gambler threw down\nhis arms as if abandoning a burden.\n\n\"Why in the name of God did you let him leave you?\" he groaned. \"Why?\nWhy? Why?\"\n\n\"He's going to come,\" asserted Ruth.\n\n\"Never in a thousand years. The fool will talk to his dummy god in\nyonder and come out with one of his iced looks and talk about\n'judgment'! Bah!\"\n\n\"He'll come.\"\n\n\"What makes you think so?\"\n\n\"Because--I know.\"\n\n\"You should have waited--to-morrow you could have done it, maybe, but\nto-day is too soon.\"\n\n\"Listen to me, Ben. I know him. I know his childish, greedy mind. He\nwants me just as much as he wants his own way. It's partly because I'm\nnew to him, being a woman. It's chiefly because I'm the first thing he's\never met that won't do what he wants. He's going to try to stay with me\nuntil he bends me.\" She flushed with angry excitement.\n\n\"It's playing with fire, Ruth. I know you're clever, but--\"\n\n\"You don't know how clever, but I'm beginning to guess what I can do.\nI've lost all feeling about that cruel barbarian, Ben. That poor little\nharmless, pretty colt--oh, I want to make David Eden burn for that! And\nI can do it. I'm going to wind him around my finger. I've thought of\nways while I stood looking at him just now. I know how I can smile at\nhim, and use my eyes, and woo him on, and pretend to be just about to\nyield and come back with him--then grow cold the next minute and give\nhim his work to do over again. I'm going to make him crawl on his knees\nin the dust. I'm going to make a fool of him before people. I'm going to\nmake him sign over his horses to us to keep them out of his vicious\npower. And I can do it--I hate him so that I know I can make him really\nlove me. Oh, I know he doesn't really love me now. I know you're right\nabout him. He simply wants me as he'd want another horse. I'll change\nhim. I'll break him. When he's broken I'm going to laugh in his\nface--and tell him--to remember Timeh!\"\n\n\"Ruth!\" gasped Connor.\n\nHe looked guiltily around, and when he was sure no one was within reach\nof her voice, he glanced back with admiration.\n\n\"By the Lord, Ruth, who'd ever have guessed at all this fire in you?\nWhy, you're a wonder. And I think you can do it. If you can only get him\nout of the infernal Garden. That's the sticking point! We make or break\nin the next ten minutes!\"\n\nBut he had hardly finished speaking before David of Eden came out of the\nRoom of Silence, and with the first glance at his face they knew that\nthe victory was theirs. David of Eden would come with them into the\nworld!\n\n\"I have heard the Voice,\" he said, \"and it is just and proper for me to\ngo. In the morning, Ruth, we shall start!\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO_\n\n\nNight came as a blessing to Ruth, for the scenes of the early day had\nexhausted her. At the very moment when David succumbed to her\ndomination, her own strength began to fail. As for Connor, it was\nanother story. The great dream which had come to him in far away Lukin,\nwhen he watched the little gray gelding win the horse race, was now\nverging toward a reality. The concrete accomplishment was at hand. Once\nin the world it was easy to see that David would become clay, molded by\nthe touch of clever Ruth Manning, and then--it would be simply a matter\nof collecting the millions as they rolled in.\n\nBut Ruth was tired. Only one thing sustained her, and that was the\nburning eagerness to humble this proud and selfish David of Eden. When\nshe thought how many times she had been on the verge of open admiration\nand sympathy with the man, she trembled and grew cold. But through the\nfate of poor little Timeh, she thanked Heaven that her eyes had been\nopened.\n\nShe went to her room shortly after dinner, and she slept heavily until\nthe first grayness of the morning. Once awake, in spite of the early\nhour, she could not sleep again, so she dressed and went into the patio.\nConnor was already there, pacing restlessly. He had been up all night,\nhe told her, turning over possibilities.\n\n\"It seems as though everything has worked out too much according to\nschedule,\" he said. \"There'll be a break. Something will happen and\nsmash everything!\"\n\n\"Nothing will happen,\" she assured him calmly.\n\nHe took her hand in his hot fingers.\n\n\"Partner\"--he began, and then stopped as though he feared to let himself\ngo on.\n\n\"Where is he?\" she asked.\n\n\"On his mountain, waiting for the sun, I guess. He told the servants a\nwhile ago that he was leaving to-day. Great excitement. They're all\nchattering about it down in the servants' house.\"\n\n\"Is no one here?\"\n\n\"Not a soul, I guess.\"\n\n\"Then--we're going into that Room of Silence!\"\n\n\"Take that chance now? Never in the world! Why, Ruth, if he saw us in\nthere, or guessed we'd been there, he'd probably murder us both. You\nknow how gentle he is when he gets well started?\"\n\n\"But how will he know? No one is here, and David won't be back from the\nmountain for a long time if he waits for the sun.\"\n\n\"Just stop thinking about it, Ruth.\"\n\n\"I'll never stop as long as I live, unless I see it. I've dreamed\nsteadily about that room all night.\"\n\n\"Go alone, then, and I'll stay here.\"\n\nShe went resolutely across the patio, and Connor, following with an\nexclamation, caught her arm roughly at the door.\n\n\"You aren't serious?\"\n\n\"Deadly serious!\"\n\nThe glitter of her dark eyes convinced him more than words.\n\n\"Then we'll go together. But make it short!\"\n\nThey swept the patio with conscience-stricken glances, and then opened\nthe door. As they did so, the ugly face of Joseph appeared at the\nentrance to the patio, looked and hastily was withdrawn.\n\n\"This is like a woman,\" muttered Connor, as they closed the door with\nguilty softness behind them. \"Risk her life for a secret that isn't\nworth a tinker's damn!\"\n\nFor the room was almost empty, and what was in it was the simplest of\nthe simple. There was a roughly made table in the center. Five chairs\nstood about it. On the table was a book, and the seven articles made up\nthe entire furnishings. Connor was surprised to see tears in the eyes of\nRuth.\n\n\"Don't you see?\" she murmured in reply to his exclamation. \"The four\nchairs for the four dead men when David sits down in his own place?\"\n\n\"Well, what of that?\"\n\n\"What's in the book?\"\n\n\"Are you going to wait to see that?\"\n\n\"Open the door a little, Ben, and then we can hear if any one comes\nnear.\"\n\nHe obeyed and came back, grumbling. \"We can hear every one except David.\nThat step of his wouldn't break eggs.\"\n\nHe found the girl already poring over the first page of the old book, on\nwhich there was writing in a delicate hand.\n\nShe read aloud: \"The story of the Garden of Eden, who made it and why it\nwas made. Told without error by Matthew.\"\n\n\"Hot stuff!\" chuckled Connor. \"We got a little time before the sun comes\nup. But it's getting red in the east. Let's hear some more.\"\n\nThere was nothing imposing about the book. It was a ledger with a\nhalf-leather binding such as storekeepers use for accounts. Time had\nyellowed the edges of the paper and the ink was dulled. She read:\n\n\"In the beginning there was a man whose name was John.\"\n\n\"Sounds like the start of the Bible,\" grinned Connor. \"Shoot ahead and\nlet's get at the real dope.\"\n\n\"Hush!\"\n\nWithout raising her eyes, she brushed aside the hand of Connor which had\nfallen on the side of the ledger. Her own took its place, ready to turn\nthe page.\n\n\"In the beginning there was a man whose name was John. The Lord looked\nupon John and saw his sins. He struck John therefor. First He took two\ndaughters from John, but still the man was blind and did not read the\nwriting of his Maker. And God struck down the eldest son of John, and\nJohn sorrowed, but did not understand. Thereat, all in a day, the Lord\ntook from John his wife and his lands and his goods, which were many and\nrich.\n\n\"Then John looked about him, and lo! he was alone.\n\n\"In the streets his friends forgot him and saw not his passing. The\nsound of his own footfall was lonely in his house, and he was left alone\nwith his sins.\n\n\"So he knew that it was the hand of God which struck him, and he heard\na voice which said in the night to him: 'O John, ye who have been too\nmuch with the world must leave it and go into the wilderness.'\n\n\"Then the heart of John smote him and he prayed God to send him not out\nalone, and God relented and told him to go forth and take with him three\nsimple men.\n\n\"So John on the next morning called to his Negro, a slave who was all\nthat remained in his hands.\n\n\"'Abraham,' he said, 'you who were a slave are free.'\n\n\"Then he went into the road and walked all the day until his feet bled.\nHe rested by the side of the road and one came who kneeled before him\nand washed his feet, and John saw that it was Abraham. And Abraham said:\n'I was born into your service and I can only die out of it.'\n\n\"They went on together until they came to three robbers fighting with\none strong man, and John helped this man and drove away the robbers.\n\n\"Then the tall man began to laugh. 'They would have robbed me because I\nwas once rich,' he said, 'but another thief had already plundered me,\nand they have gotten only broken heads for their industry.' Then John\nwas sorry for the fortune that was stolen.\n\n\"'Not I,' said the tall man, 'but I am sorry for the brother I lost with\nthe money.' Then he told them how his own brother had cheated him.\n'But,' he said, 'there is only one way to beat the devil, and that is to\nlaugh at him.'\n\n\"Now John saw this was a good man, so he opened his heart to Luke, which\nwas the name of him who had been robbed. Then Luke fell in with the two\nand went on with them.\n\n\"They came to a city filled with plague so that the dead were buried by\nthe dying and the dog howled over his master in the street; the son fled\nfrom the father and the mother left her child. They found one man who\ntended the sick out of charity and the labor was too great for even his\nbroad shoulders. He had a broad, ugly face, but in his eye was a clear\nfire.\n\n\"'Brother, what is your name?' said John, and the man answered that he\nwas called Paul, and begged them for the sweet mercy of Christ to aid\nhim in his labors.\n\n\"But John said: 'Rise, Paul, and follow me.'\n\n\"And Paul said: 'How can I follow the living when the dying call to me?'\n\n\"But John said: 'Nevertheless, leave them, for these are carrion, but\nyour soul in which is life eternal is worth all these and far more.'\n\n\"Then Paul felt the power of John and followed him and took, also, his\ngray horses which were unlike others, and of his servants those who\nwould follow him for love, and in wagons he put much wealth.\n\n\"So they all rode on as a mighty caravan until they came, at the side of\nthe road, to a youth lying in the meadow with his hands behind his head\nwhistling, and a bird hovering above him repeated the same note. They\nspoke to him and he told them that he was an outcast because he would\nnot labor.\n\n\"'The world is too pleasant to work in,' he said, and whistled again,\nand the bird above him made answer.\n\n\"Then John said: 'Here is a soul worth all of ours. Rise, brother, and\ncome with us.'\n\n\"So Matthew rose and followed him, and he was the third and last man to\njoin John, who was the beginning.\n\n\"Then they came to a valley set about with walls and with a pleasant\nriver running through it, and here they entered and called it the Garden\nof Eden because in it men should be pure of heart once more. And they\nbuilt their houses with labor and lived in quiet and the horses\nmultiplied and the Garden blossomed under their hands.\"\n\nHere Ruth marked her place with her finger while she wiped her eyes.\n\n\"Do you mean to say this babble is getting you?\" growled Ben Connor.\n\n\"Please!\" she whispered. \"Don't you see that it's beautiful?\"\n\nAnd she returned to the book.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE_\n\n\n\"Then John sickened and said: 'Bring me into the room of silence.' So\nthey brought him to the place where they sat each day to converse with\nGod in the holy stillness and hear His voice.\n\n\"Then John said: 'I am about to depart from among you, and before my\ngoing I put this command on you that you find in the world a male infant\ntoo young to know its father or mother, or without father and mother\nliving. Rear that child to manhood in the valley, for even as I depart\nso will you all do, and the Garden of Eden will be left tenantless.'\n\n\"So when John was dead Matthew went forth and found a male child and\nbrought him to the valley and the two said: 'Where was the child found\nand what is its name?' And Matthew said: 'It was found in the place to\nwhich God led me and its name hereafter shall be David.'\n\n\"So peace was on the valley, and David grew tall and strong. Then Luke\ndied, and Paul died in a drift of snow and Matthew grew very old and\nwrote these words for the eye of David.\"\n\nThe smooth running, finely made letters come to an end, the narrative\nwas taken up in fresher ink and in a bold, heavy hand of large\ncharacters.\n\n\"One day Matthew called for David and said: 'My hands are cold, whereby\nI know I am about to die. As I lay last night with death for a bedfellow\nthoughts came to me, which are these: We have been brother and father\nand son to one another. But do not grieve that I am gone. I inherit a\nplace of peace, but you shall come to torment unless you find a woman in\nthe world and bring her here to bear children to you and be your wife.'\n\n\"Then David groaned in his heart and he said: 'How shall I know her when\nI find her?'\n\n\"And Matthew said: 'By her simplicity.'\n\n\"And David said: 'There may be many who are simple.'\n\n\"And Matthew said: 'I have never known such a woman. But when you see\nher your heart will rise up and claim her. Therefore, within five years,\nbefore you are grown too old, go out and find this woman and wed her.'\n\n\"And on that day Matthew died, and a great anguish came to David. The\ndays passed heavily. And for five years he has waited.\"\n\nThere was another interval of blank paper, and then the pen had been\ntaken up anew, hurriedly, and driven with such force and haste that it\ntore the paper-surface.\n\n\"The woman is here!\"\n\nHer fingers stiffened about the edges of the book. Raising her head, she\nlooked out through the little window and saw the tree tops down the\nhillside brightening against the red of the dawn. But Connor could not\nsee her face. He only noted the place at which she had stopped, and now\nhe began to laugh.\n\n\"Can you beat that? That poor dub!\"\n\nShe turned to him, slowly, a face so full of mute anguish that the\ngambler stopped his laughter to gape at her. Was she taking this\nseriously? Was this the Bluebeard's chamber which was to ruin all his\nwork?\n\nNot that he perceived what was going on in her mind, but her expression\nmade him aware, all at once, of the morning-quiet. Far down the valley a\nhorse neighed and a bird swooping past the window cast in on them one\nthrilling phrase of music. And Connor saw the girl change under his very\neye. She was looking straight at him without seeing his face and into\nwhatever distance her glance went he felt that he could not follow her.\nHere at the very threshold of success the old ledger was proving a more\ndangerous enemy than David himself. Connor fumbled for words, the Open\nSesame which would let in the common sense of the everyday world upon\nthe girl. But the very fear of that crisis kept him dumb. He glanced\nfrom the pale hand on the ledger to her face, and it seemed to him that\nbeauty had fallen upon her out of the book.\n\n\"The woman is here! God has sent her!\"\n\nAt that she cried out faintly, her voice trembling with self-scorn: \"God\nhas sent me--me!\"\n\n\"The heart of David stood up and beat in his throat when he saw her,\"\nwent on the rough, strong writing. \"She passed the gate. Every step she\ntook was into the soul of David. As I went beside her the trees grew\ntaller and the sky was more blue.\n\n\"She has passed the gate. She is here. She is mine!\n\n\"What am I that she should be mine? God has sent her to show me that my\nstrength is clumsy. I have no words to fit her. When I look into her\neyes I see her soul; my vision leaps from star to star, a great\ndistance, and I am filled with humility. O Father in Heaven, having led\nher to my hand, teach me to give her happiness, to pour her spirit full\nof content.\"\n\nShe closed the book reverently and pressed her hands against her face.\nHe heard her murmuring: \"What have I done? God forgive me!\"\n\nConnor grew angry. It was no time for trifling.\n\nHe touched her arm: \"Come on out of this, Ruth. If you're going to get\nreligion, try it later.\"\n\nAt that she flung away and faced him, and what he saw was a revelation\nof angry scorn.\n\n\"Don't touch me,\" she stammered at him. \"You cheat! Is that the\nbarbarian you were telling me about? Is that the cruel, selfish fool you\ntried to make me think was David of Eden?\"\n\nHis own weapons were turning against him, but he retained his\nself-control.\n\n\"I won't listen to you, Ruth. It's this hush-stuff that's got you. It's\nthis infernal room. It makes you feel that the fathead has actually got\nthe dope from God.\"\n\n\"How do you know that God hasn't come to him here? At least, he's had\nthe courage and the faith to believe it. What faith have we? I know your\nheaven, Ben Connor. It's paved with dollar bills. And mine, too. We've\ncome sneaking in here like cowardly thieves. Oh, I hate myself, I loathe\nmyself. I've stolen his heart, and what have I to give him in exchange?\nI'm not even worthy to love him! Barbarian? He's so far greater and\nfiner than we are that we aren't worthy to look in his face!\"\n\n\"By the Lord!\" groaned Connor. \"Are you double-crossing me?\"\n\n\"Could I do anything better? Who tempted me like a devil and brought me\nhere? Who taught me to play the miserable game with David? You, you,\nyou!\"\n\nPerspiration was streaming down the white face of Connor.\n\n\"Try to give me a chance and listen one minute, Ruth. But for God's sake\ndon't fly off the handle and smash everything when we're next door to\nwinning. Maybe I've done wrong. I don't see how. I've tried to give\nthis David a chance to be happy the way any other man would want to be\nhappy. Now you turn on me because he's written some high-flying chatter\nin a book!\"\n\n\"Because I thought he was a selfish sham, and now I see that he's real.\nHe's humbled himself to me--to me! I'm not worthy to touch his feet! And\nyou--\"\n\n\"Maybe I'm rotten. I don't say I'm all I should be, but half of what\nI've done has been for you. The minute I saw you at the key in Lukin I\nknew I wanted you. I've gone on wanting you ever since. It's the first\ntime in my life--but I love you, Ruth. Give me one more chance. Put this\nthing through and I'll turn over the rest of my life to fixing you up\nso's you'll be happy.\"\n\nShe watched him for a moment incredulously; then she broke into\nhysterical laughter.\n\n\"If you loved me could you have made me do what I've done? Love? You?\nBut I know what real love is. It's written into that book. I've heard\nhim talk. I'm full of his voice, of his face.\n\n\"It's the only fine thing about me. For the rest, we're shams, both of\nus--cheats--crooked--small, sneaking cheats!\"\n\nShe stopped with a cry of alarm; the door behind her stood open and in\nthe entrance was David of Eden. In the background was the ugly, grinning\nface of Joseph. This was his revenge.\n\nConnor made one desperate effort to smile, but the effort failed\nwretchedly. Neither of them could look at David; they could only steal\nglances at one another and see their guilt.\n\n\"David, my brother--\" began the gambler heavily.\n\nBut the voice of the master broke in: \"Oh, Abraham, Abraham, would to\nGod that I had listened!\"\n\nHe stood to one side, and made a sweeping gesture.\n\n\"Come out, and bring the woman.\"\n\nThey shrank past him and stood blinking in the light of the newly risen\nsun. Joseph was hugging himself with the cold and his mute delight. The\nmaster closed the door and faced them again.\n\n\"Even in the Room of Silence!\" he said slowly. \"Was it not enough to\nbring sin into the Garden? But you have carried it even into the holy\nplace!\"\n\nConnor found his tongue. The fallen head of Ruth told him that there was\nno help to be looked for from her, and the crisis forced him into a\ncertain boisterous glibness of speech.\n\n\"Sin, Brother David? What sin? To be sure, Ruth was too curious. She\nwent into the Room of Silence, but as soon as I knew she was there I\nwent to fetch her, when--\"\n\nHe had even cast out one arm in a gesture of easy persuasion, and now it\nwas caught at the wrist in a grip that burned through the flesh to the\nbones. Another hand clutched his coat at the throat. He was lifted and\nflung back against the wall by a strength like that of a madman, or a\nwild animal. One convulsive effort showed him his helplessness, and he\ncried out more in horror than fear. Another cry answered him, and Ruth\nstrove to press in between, tearing futilely at the arms of David.\n\nA moment later Connor was miraculously freed. He found David a long pace\naway and Ruth before him, her arms flung out to give him shelter while\nshe faced the master of the garden.\n\n\"He is saved,\" said David, \"and you are free. Your love has ransomed\nhim. What price has he paid to win you so that you will even risk death\nfor him?\"\n\n\"Oh, David,\" sobbed the girl, \"don't you see I only came between you to\nkeep you from murder? Because he isn't worth it!\"\n\nBut the master of the Garden was laughing in a way that made Connor look\nabout for a weapon and shrink because he found none; only the greedy\neyes of Joseph, close by. David had come again close to the girl; he\neven took both her hands in one of his and slipped his arm about her. To\nConnor his self-control now seemed more terrible than that one outbreak\nof murdering passion.\n\n\"Still lies?\" said David. \"Still lies to me? Beautiful Ruth--never more\nbeautiful than now, even when you lied to me with your eyes and your\nsmiles and your promises! The man is nothing. He came like a snake to\nme, and his life is worth no more than the life of a snake. Let him\nlive, let him die; it is no matter. But you, Ruth! I am not even\nangered. I see you already from a great distance, a beautiful, evil\nthing that has been so close to me. For you have been closer to me than\nyou are now that my arm is around you, touching you for the last time,\nholding your warmth and your tender body, keeping both your hands, which\nare smaller and softer than the hands of a child. But mighty hands,\nnevertheless.\n\n\"They have held the heart of David, and they have almost thrown his soul\ninto eternal hellfire. Yet you have been closer to me than you are now.\nYou have been in my heart of hearts. And I take you from it sadly--with\nregret, for the sin of loving you has been sweet.\"\n\nShe had been sobbing softly all this time, but now she mastered herself\nlong enough to draw back a little, taking his hands with a desperate\neagerness, as though they gave her a hold upon his mind.\n\n\"Give me one minute to speak out what I have to say. Will you give me\none half minute, David?\"\n\nHis glance rose past her, higher, until it was fixed on the east, and as\nhe stood there with his head far back Connor guessed for the first time\nat the struggle which was going on within him. The girl pressed closer\nto him, drawing his hands down as though she would make him stoop to\nher.\n\n\"Look at me, David!\"\n\n\"I see your face clearly.\"\n\n\"Still, look at me for the one last time.\"\n\n\"I dare not, Ruth!\"\n\n\"But will you believe me?\"\n\n\"I shall try. But I am glad to hear your voice, for the last time.\"\n\n\"I've come to you like a cheat, David, and I've tried to win you in\norder to steal the horses away, but I've stayed long enough to see the\ntruth.\n\n\"If everything in the valley were offered me--the horses and the\nmen--and everything outside of the valley, without you, I'd throw them\naway. I don't want them. Oh, if prayers could make you believe, you'd\nbelieve me now; because I'm praying to you, David.\n\n\"You love me, David. I can feel you trembling, and I love you more than\nI ever dreamed it was possible to love. Let me come back to you. I don't\nwant the world or anything that's in it. I only want you. David--I only\nwant you! Will you believe me?\"\n\nAnd Connor saw David of Eden sway with the violence of his struggle.\n\nBut he murmured at length, as one in wonder:\n\n\"How you are rooted in me, Ruth! How you are wound into my life, so that\nit is like tearing out my heart to part from you. But the God of the\nGarden and John and Matthew has given me strength.\" He stepped back from\nher.\n\n\"You are free to go, but if you return the doom against you is death\nlike that of any wild beast that steals down the cliffs to kill in my\nfields. Begone, and let me see your face no more. Joseph, take them to\nthe gate.\"\n\nAnd he turned his back with a slowness which made his resolution the\nmore unmistakable.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR_\n\n\nIt was, unquestionably, a tempting of Providence, but Connor was almost\npast caring. Far off he heard the neighing of an Eden Gray; Ruth, with\nher bowed head and face covered in her hands, was before him, sobbing;\nand all that he had come so near to winning and yet had lost rushed upon\nthe mind of the gambler. He hardly cared now whether he lived or died.\nHe called to the master of the Garden, and David whirled on him with a\nlivid face. Connor walked into the reach of the lion.\n\n\"I've made my play,\" he said through his teeth, \"and I don't holler\nbecause I've lost the big stakes. Now I'm going to give you something to\nshow that I'm not a piker--some free advice, Dave!\"\n\n\"O man of many lies,\" said David. \"Peace! For when I hear you there is a\ngreat will come on me to take you by the throat and hear your life go\nout with a rattle.\"\n\n\"A minute ago,\" said Connor coolly enough, \"I was scared, and I admit\nit, but I'm past that stage. I've lost too much to care, and now you're\ngoing to hear me out to the last damned word!\"\n\n\"God of Paul and Matthew,\" said David, his voice broken with rage, \"let\ntemptation be far from me!\"\n\n\"You can take it standing or sitting,\" said Connor, \"and be damned to\nyou!\"\n\nThe blind fury sent David a long step nearer, but he checked himself\neven as one hand rose toward Connor.\n\n\"It is the will of God that you live to be punished hereafter.\"\n\n\"No matter about the future. I'm chattering in the present. I'm going to\ncome clean, not because I'm afraid of you, but because I'm going to\nclear up the girl. Abraham had the cold dope, well enough. I came to\ncrook you out of a horse, Dave, my boy, and I did it. But after I'd got\naway with the goods I tried to play hog, and I came back for the rest of\nthe horses.\"\n\nHe paused; but David showed no emotion.\n\n\"You take the punishment very well,\" admitted Connor. \"There's a touch\nof sporting blood in you, but the trouble is that the good in you has\nnever had a fair chance to come to the top. I came back, and I brought\nRuth with me.\n\n\"I'll tell you about her. She's meant to be an honest-to-God woman--the\nkind that keeps men clean--she's meant for the big-time stuff. And where\ndid I find her? In a jay town punching a telegraph key. It was all\nwrong.\n\n\"She was made to spend a hundred thousand a year. Everything that money\nbuys means a lot to her. I saw that right away. I like her. I did more\nthan like her. I loved her. That makes you flinch under the whip, does\nit? I don't say I'm worthy of her, but I'm as near to her as you are.\n\n\"I admit I played a rotten part. I went to this girl, all starved the\nway she was for the velvet touch. I laid my proposition before her. She\nwas to come up here and bamboozle you. She was to knock your eye out and\nget you clear of the valley with the horses. Then I was going to run\nthose horses on the tracks and make a barrel of coin for all of us.\n\n\"You'd think she'd take on a scheme like that right away; but she\ndidn't. She fought to keep from going crooked until I showed her it was\nas much to your advantage as it was to ours. Then she decided to come,\nand she came. I worked my stall and she worked hers, and she got into\nthe valley.\n\n\"But this voice of yours in the Room of Silence--why didn't it put you\nwise to my game? Well, David, I'll tell you why. The voice is the bunk.\nIt's your own thoughts. It's your own hunches. The god you've been\nworshiping up here is yourself, and in the end you're going to pay hell\nfor doing it.\n\n\"Well, here's the girl in the Garden, and everything going smooth. We\nhave you, and she's about to take you out and show you how to be happy\nin the world. But then she has to go into your secret room. That's the\nwoman of it. You blame her? Why, you infernal blockhead, you've been\nmaking love to her like God Almighty speaking out of a cloud of fire!\nHow could she hear your line of chatter without wanting to find out the\nsecrets that made you the nut you are?\n\n\"Well, we went in, and we found out. We found out what? Enough to make\nthe girl see that you're 'noble,' as she calls it. Enough to make me see\nthat you're a simp. You've been chasing bubbles all your life. You're\nall wrong from the first.\n\n\"Those first four birds who started the Garden, who were they? There was\nJohn, a rich fellow who'd hit the high spots, had his life messed up,\nand was ready to quit. He'd lived enough. Then there was Luke, a gent\nwho'd been double-crossed and was sore at the world on general\nprinciples.\n\n\"Paul would have been a full-sized saint in the old days. He was never\nmeant to live the way other men have to live. And finally there's a guy\nwho lies in the grass and whistles to a bird--Matthew. A poet--and all\npoets are nuts.\n\n\"Well, all those fellows were tired of the world--fed up with it. Boil\nthem down, and they come to this: they thought more about the welfare\nof their souls than they did about the world. Was that square? It\nwasn't! They left the mothers and fathers, the brothers and sisters, the\nfriends, everything that had brought them into the world and raised 'em.\nThey go off to take care of themselves.\n\n\"That wasn't bad enough for 'em--they had to go out and pluck you and\nbring you up with the same rotten hunches. Davie, my boy, d'you think a\nman is made to live by himself?\n\n\"You haven't got fed up with the world; you're no retired high liver;\nyou haven't had a chance to get double-crossed more than once; you're\nnot a crazy poet; and you're a hell of a long ways from being a martyr.\n\n\"I'll tell you what you are. You're a certain number of pounds of husky\nmuscle and bone going to waste up here in the mountains. You've been\nalone so much that you've got to thinking that your own hunches come\nfrom God, and that'd spoil any man.\n\n\"Live alone? Bah! You've had more happiness since Ruth came into this\nvalley than you've ever had before or you'll ever have again.\n\n\"Right now you're breaking your heart to take her in your arms and tell\nher to stop crying, but your pride won't let you.\n\n\"You tried to make yourself a mystery with your room of silence and all\nthat bunk. But no woman can stand a mystery. They all got to read their\nhusband's letters. You try to bluff her with a lot of fancy words and\npartly scare her. It's fear that sent the four men up here in the first\nplace--fear of the world.\n\n\"And they've lived by fear. They scared a lot of poor unfortunate men\ninto coming with them for the sake of their souls, they said. And they\nkept them here the same way. And they've kept you here by telling you\nthat you'd be damned if you went over the mountains.\n\n\"And you still keep them here the same way. Do you think they stay\nbecause they love you? Give them a chance and see if they won't pack up\nand beat it for their old homes.\n\n\"Now, show me that you're a man and not a fatheaded bluff. Be a man and\nadmit that what you call the Voice is just your pride. Be a man and take\nthat girl in your arms and tell her you love her. I've made a mess of\nthings; I've ruined her life, and I want to see you give her a chance to\nbe happy.\n\n\"Because she's not the kind to love more than one man if she lives to be\na thousand. Now, David Eden, step out and give yourself a chance!\"\n\nIt had been a gallant last stand on the part of Connor. But he was\nbeaten before he finished, and he knew it.\n\n\"Are you done?\" said David.\n\n\"I'm through, fast enough. It's up to you!\"\n\n\"Joseph, take the man and his woman out of the Garden of Eden.\"\n\nThe last thing that Connor ever saw of David Eden was his back as he\nclosed the door of the Room of Silence upon himself. The gambler went to\nRuth. She was dry-eyed by this time, and there was a peculiar blankness\nin her expression that went to his heart.\n\nSecretly he had hoped that his harangue to David would also be a\nharangue to the girl and make her see through the master of the Garden;\nbut that hope disappeared at once.\n\nHe stayed a little behind her when they were conducted out of the patio\nby the grinning Joseph. He helped her gently to her horse, the old gray\ngelding, and when he was in place on his own horse, with the mule pack\nbehind him, they started for the gate.\n\nShe had not spoken since they started. At the gate she moved as if to\nturn and look back, but controlled the impulse and bowed her head once\nmore. Joseph came beside the gambler and stretched out his great palm.\nIn the center of it was the little ivory ape's head which had brought\nConnor his entrance into the valley and had won the hatred of the big\nNegro, and had, eventually, ruined all his plans.\n\n\"It was given freely,\" grinned Joseph, \"and it is freely returned.\"\n\n\"Very well.\"\n\nConnor took it and hurled it out of sight along the boulders beyond the\ngate. The last thing that he saw of the Garden of Eden and its men was\nthat broad grin of Joseph, and then he hurried his horse to overtake\nRuth, whose gelding had been plodding steadily along the ravine.\n\nHe attempted for the first time to speak to her.\n\n\"Only a quitter tries to make up for the harm he's done by apologizing.\nBut I've got to tell you the one thing in my life I most regret. It\nisn't tricking David of Eden, but it's doing what I've done to you. Will\nyou believe me when I say that I'd give a lot to undo what I've done?\"\n\nShe only raised her hand to check him and ventured a faint smile of\nreassurance. It was the smile that hurt Connor to the quick.\n\nThey left the ravine. They toiled slowly up the difficult trail, and\neven when they had reached such an altitude that the floor of the valley\nof the Garden was unrolling behind them the girl never once moved to\nlook back.\n\n\"So,\" thought Connor, \"she'll go through the rest of her life with her\nhead down, watching the ground in front of her. And this is my work.\"\n\nHe was not a sentimentalist, but a lump was forming in his throat when,\nat the very crest of the mountain, the girl turned suddenly in her\nsaddle and stopped the gray.\n\n\"Only makes it worse to stay here,\" muttered Connor. \"Come on, Ruth.\"\n\nBut she seemed not to hear him, and there was something in her smile\nthat kept him from speaking again.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE_\n\n\nThe Room of Silence had become to David Eden a chamber of horror. The\nfour chairs around him, which had hitherto seemed filled with the ghosts\nof the four first masters of the Garden, were now empty to his\nimagination. In this place where he had so often found unfailing\nconsolation, unfailing counsel, he was now burdened by the squat, heavy\nwalls, and the low ceiling. It was like a prison to him.\n\nFor all his certainty was gone. \"You've made yourself your God,\" the\ngambler had said. \"Fear made the Garden of Eden, fear keeps the men in\nit. Do you think the others stay for love of you?\"\n\nBenjamin had proved a sinner, no doubt, but there had been a ring of\nconviction in his words that remained in the mind of David. How could he\ntell that the man was not right? Certainly, now that he had once doubted\nthe wisdom of that silent Voice, the mystery was gone. The room was\nempty; the holiness had departed from the Garden of Eden with the\ndeparting of Ruth.\n\nHe found himself avoiding the thought of her, for whenever her image\nrose before him it was torture.\n\nHe dared not even inquire into the depression which weighed down his\nspirits, for he knew that the loss of the girl was the secret of it\nall.\n\nOne thing at least was certain: the strong, calming voice which he had\nso often heard in the Room of Silence, no longer dwelt there, and with\nthat in mind he rose and went into the patio.\n\nIn a corner, screened by a climbing vine, hung a large bell which had\nonly been rung four times in the history of the Garden of Eden, and each\ntime it was for the death of the master. David tore the green away and\nstruck the bell. The brazen voice crowded the patio and pealed far away,\nand presently the men came. They came in wild-eyed haste, and when they\nsaw David alive before them they stared at him as if at a ghost.\n\n\"As it was in the beginning,\" said David when the circle had been formed\nand hushed, \"death follows sin. Sin has come into the Garden of Eden and\nthe voice of God has died out of it. Therefore the thing for which you\nhave lived here so long is gone. If for love of David, you wish to stay,\nremain; but if your hearts go back to your old homes, return to them.\nThe wagons and the oxen are yours. All the furnishing of the houses are\nyours. There is also a large store of money in my chest which Elijah\nshall divide justly among you. And on your journey Elijah shall lead\nyou, if you go forth, for he is a just man and fit to lead others. Do\nnot answer now, but return to your house and speak to one another.\nAfterward, send one man. If you stay in the Garden he shall tell me. If\nyou depart I shall bid you farewell through him. Begone!\"\n\nThey went out soft-footed, as though the master of the Garden had turned\ninto an animal liable to spring on them from behind.\n\nHe began to pace up and down the patio, after a time, rather\nimpatiently. No doubt the foolish old men were holding forth at great\nlength. They were appointing the spokesman, and they were framing the\nspeech which he would make to David telling of their devotion to him,\nwhether the spirit was gone or remained. They would remain; and\nBenjamin's prophecy had been that of a spiteful fool. Yet even if they\nstayed, how empty the valley would be--how hollow of all pleasure!\n\nIt was at this point in his thoughts that he heard a sound of singing\ndown the hillside from the house of the servants--first a single, thin,\ntrembling voice to which others were added until the song was heartened\nand grew full and strong. It was a song which David had never heard\nbefore. It rang and swung with a peculiarly happy rhythm, growing\nshriller as the old men seemed to gather their enthusiasm. The words,\nsung in a thick dialect, were stranger to David than the tune, but as\nnearly as he could make out the song ran as follows:\n\n     \"Oh, Jo, come back from the cold and the stars\n     For the cows they has come to the pasture bars,\n     And the little game chicken's beginning to crow:\n     Come back to us, Jo; come back to us, Jo!\n\n     \"He was walkin' in the gyarden in the cool o' the day\n     When He seen my baby Jo in the clover blossoms play.\n\n     \"He was walkin' in the gyarden an' the dew was on His feet\n     When He seen my baby Jo so little an' sweet.\n\n     \"They was flowers in the gyarden, roses, an' such,\n     But the roses an' the pansies, they didn't count for much.\n\n     \"An' He left the clover blossoms fo' the bees the next day An'\n     the roses an' the pansies, but He took Jo away.\n\n     \"Oh, Jo, come back from the cold and the stars\n     For the cows they has come to the pasture bars,\n     And the little game chicken has started to crow:\n     Come back to us, Jo; come back to us Jo!\"\n\nHe knew their voices and he knew their songs, but never had David heard\nhis servants sing as they sang this song. Their hymns were strong and\npleasant to the ear, but in this old tune there was a melody and a lilt\nthat brought a lump in his throat. And there was a heart to their\nsinging, so that he almost saw them swaying their shoulders to the\nmelody.\n\nIt was the writing on the wall for David.\n\nOut of that song he built a picture of their old lives, the hot\nsunshine, the dust, and all the things which Matthew had told him of the\nslaves and their ways before the time of the making of the Garden.\n\nHe waited, then, either for their messenger or for another song; but he\nneither saw the one nor heard the other for a considerable time. An\nangry pride sustained him in the meantime, in the face of a life alone\nin the Garden. Far off, he heard the neigh of the grays in the meadow\nnear the gate, and then the clarion clear answer of Glani near the\nhouse. He was grateful for that sound. All men, it seemed, were traitors\nto him. Let them go. He would remain contented with the Eden Grays. They\nwould come and go with him like human companions. Better the noble head\nof Glani near him than the treacherous cunning of Benjamin! He accepted\nhis fate, then, not with calm resignation, but with fierce anger against\nConnor, who had brought this ruin on him, and against the men who were\npreparing to desert him.\n\nHe could hear plainly the creaking of the great wains as the oxen were\nyoked to them and they were dragged into position to receive the burdens\nof the property they were to take with them into the outer world. And,\nin the meantime, he paced through the patio in one of those silent\npassions which eat at the heart of a man.\n\nHe was not aware of the entrance of Elijah. When he saw him, Elijah had\nfallen on his knees near the entrance to the patio, and every line of\nhis time-dried body expressed the terror of the bearer of bad tidings.\nDavid looked at him for a moment in silent rage.\n\n\"Do you think, Elijah,\" he said at last, \"that I shall be so grieved to\nknow that you and the others will leave me and the Garden of Eden? No,\nno! For I shall be happier alone. Therefore, speak and be done!\"\n\n\"Timeh--\" began the old man faintly.\n\n\"You have done that last duty, then, Elijah? Timeh is no longer alive?\"\n\n\"The day is still new, David. Twice I went to Timeh, but each time when\nI was about to lead her away, the neighing of Juri troubled me and my\nheart failed.\"\n\n\"But the third time you remembered my order?\"\n\n\"But the third time--there was no third time. When the bell sounded we\ngathered. Even the watchers by the the gates--Jacob and Isaac--came and\nthe gate was left unguarded--Timeh was in the pasture near the gate with\nJuri--and--\"\n\n\"They are gone! They have passed through the gate! Call Zacharias and\nJoseph. Let them mount and follow and bring Juri back with the foal!\"\n\n\"Oh, David, my master--\"\n\n\"What is it now, Elijah, old stammerer? Of all my servants none has cost\nme so much pain; to none shall I say farewell with so little regret.\nWhat is it now? Why do you not rise and call them as I bid you? Do you\nthink you are free before you pass the gates?\"\n\n\"David, there are no horses to follow Juri!\"\n\n\"What!\"\n\n\"The God of John and Paul give me strength to tell and give you strength\nto hear me in patience! When you had spoken, and the servants went back\nto speak of the strange things you had said, some of them spoke of the\nold days before they heard the call and followed to the Garden, and then\na song was raised beginning with Zacharias--\"\n\n\"Zacharias!\" echoed David, softly and fiercely. \"Him whom I have favored\nabove the others!\"\n\n\"But while the others sang, I heard a neighing near the gate and I\nremembered your order and your judgment of Timeh, and I went sorrowfully\nto fulfill your will. But near the gate I saw the meadow empty of the\nhorses, and while I stood wondering, I heard a chorus of neighing beyond\nthe gate. There was a great answer just behind me, and I turned and saw\nGlani racing at full speed. I called to him, but he did not hear and\nwent on, straight through the pillars of the gate, and disappeared in\nthe ravine beyond. Then I ran to the gate and looked out, but the horses\nwere gone from sight--they have left the Garden--they are free--\"\n\n\"And happy!\" said David in a terrible voice. \"They, too, have only been\nheld by fear and never by love. Let them go. Let all go which is kept\nhere by fear. Why should I care? I am enough by myself. When all is gone\nand I am alone the Voice shall return and be my companion. It is well.\nLet every living thing depart. David is enough unto himself. Go, Elijah!\nAnd yet pause before you go!\"\n\nHe went into his room and came out bearing the heavy chest of money,\nwhich he carried to the gate.\n\n\"Go to your brothers and bid them come for the money. It will make them\nrich enough in the world beyond the mountains, but to me there is need\nof no money. Silence and peace is my wish. Go, and let me hear their\nvoices no more, let me not see one face. Ingrates, fools, and traitors!\nLet them find their old places; I have no regret. Begone!\"\n\nAnd Elijah, as one under the shadow of a raised whip, skulked from the\npatio and was gone.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX_\n\n\nThe last quiet began for David. He had heard the sounds of departure. He\nhad heard the rumble of the oxwains begin and go slowly toward the gate\nwith never the sound of a human voice, and he pictured, with a grim\nsatisfaction, the downcast faces and the frightened, guilty glances, as\nhis servants fled, conscious that they were betraying their master. It\nfilled him with a sort of sulky content which was more painful than\nsorrow. But before the sound of the wagons died out the wind blew back\nfrom the gate of the Garden a thin, joyous chorus of singing voices.\nThey were leaving him with songs!\n\nHe was incredulous for a time. He felt, first, a great regret that he\nhad let them go. Then, in an overwhelming wave of righteousness, he\ndetermined to dismiss them from his mind. They were gone; but worse\nstill, the horses were gone, and the valley around him was empty! He\nremembered the dying prophecy of Abraham, now, as the stern Elijah had\nrepeated it. He had let the world into the Garden, and the tide of the\nworld's life, receding, would take all the life of the Garden away\nbeyond the mountains among other men.\n\nThe feeling that Connor had been right beset him: that the four first\nmasters had been wrong, and that they had raised David in error. Yet his\npride still upheld him.\n\nThat day he went resolutely about the routine. He was not hungry, but\nwhen the time came he went into the big kitchen and prepared food. It\nwas a place of much noise. The great copper kettles chimed and murmured\nwhenever he touched them, and they spoke to him of the servants who were\ngone. Half of his bitterness had already left him and he could remember\nthose days in his childhood when Abraham had told him tales, and\nZacharias had taught him how to ride at the price of many a tumble from\nthe lofty back of the gentle old mare. Yet he set the food on the table\nin the patio and ate it with steady resolution. Then he returned to the\nbig kitchen and cleansed the dishes.\n\nIt was the late afternoon, now, the time when the sunlight becomes\nyellow and loses its heat, and the heavy blue shadow sloped across the\npatio. A quiet time. Now and again he found that he was tense with\nwaiting for sounds in the wind of the servants returning for the night\nfrom the fields, and the shrill whinny of the colts coming back from the\npastures to the paddocks. But he remembered what had happened and made\nhimself relax.\n\nThere was a great dread before him. Finally he realized that it was the\ncoming of the night, and he went into the Room of Silence for the last\ntime to find consolation. The book of Matthew had always been a means of\nbringing the consolation and counsel of the Voice, but when he opened\nthe book he could only think of the girl, as she must have leaned above\nit. How had she read? With a smile of mockery or with tears? He closed\nthe book; but still she was with him. It seemed that when he turned in\nthe chair he must find her waiting behind him and he found himself\ngrowing tense with expectation, his heart beating rapidly.\n\nOut of the Room of Silence he fled as if a curse lived in it, and\nwithout following any conscious direction, he went to the room of Ruth.\n\nThe fragrance had left the wild flowers, and the great golden blossoms\nat the window hung thin and limp, the bell lips hanging close together,\nthe color faded to a dim yellow. The green things must be taken away\nbefore they molded. He raised his hand to tear down the transplanted\nvine, but his fingers fell away from it. To remove it was to destroy the\nlast trace of her. She had seen these flowers; on account of them she\nhad smiled at him with tears of happiness in her eyes. The skin of the\nmountain lion on the floor was still rumpled where her foot had fallen,\nand he could see the indistinct outline where the heel of her shoe had\npressed.\n\nHe avoided that place when he stepped back, and turning, he saw her bed.\nThe dappled deerskin lay crumpled back where her hand had tossed it as\nshe rose that morning, and in the blankets was the distinct outline of\nher body. He knew where her body had pressed, and there was the hollow\nmade by her head in the pillow.\n\nSomething snapped in the heart of David. The sustaining pride which had\nkept his head high all day slipped from him like the strength of the\nrunner when he crosses the mark. David fell upon his knees and buried\nhis face where her head had lain, and his arms curved as though around\nher body. Connor had been right. He had made himself his god, and this\nwas the punishment. The mildness of a new humility came to him in the\nagony of his grief. He found that he could pray, not the proud prayers\nof the old days when David talked as an equal to the voice, but that\nmost ancient prayer of sinners:\n\n\"O Lord, I believe. Help Thou mine unbelief!\"\n\nAnd the moment the whisper had passed his lips there was a blessed\nrelief from pain. There was a sound at the window, and turning to it, he\nsaw the head and the arched neck of Glani against the red of the\nsunset--Glani looking at him with pricked ears. He went to the stallion,\nincredulous, with steps as short as a child which is afraid, and at his\ncoming Glani whinnied softly. At that the last of David's pride fell\nfrom him. He cast his arms around the neck of the stallion and wept with\ndeep sobs that tore his throat, and under the grip of his arms he felt\nthe stallion trembling. He was calmer, at length, and he climbed through\nthe window and stood beside Glani under the brilliant sunset sky.\n\n\"And the others, O Glani,\" he said. \"Have they returned likewise? Timeh\nshall live. I, who have judged others so often, have been myself judged\nand found wanting. Timeh shall live. What am I that I should speak of\nthe life or the death of so much as the last bird in the trees? But have\nthey all returned, all my horses?\"\n\nHe whistled that call which every gray knew as a rallying sound, a call\nthat would bring them at a dead gallop with answering neighs. But when\nthe thin sound of the whistle died out there was no reply. Only Glani\nhad moved away and was looking back to David as if he bid the master\nfollow.\n\n\"Is it so, Glani?\" said the master. \"They have not come back, but you\nhave returned to lead me to them? The woman, the man, the servants, and\nthe horses. But we shall leave the valley, walking together. Let the\nhorses go, and the man and the woman and the servants; but we shall go\nforth together and find the world beyond the mountains.\"\n\nAnd with his hand tangled in the mane of the stallion, he walked down\nthe road, away from the hill, the house, the lake. He would not look\nback, for the house on the hill seemed to him a tomb, the monument of\nthe four dead men who had made this little kingdom.\n\nBy the time he reached the gate the Garden of Eden was awash with the\nshadows of the evening, but the higher mountain-tops before him were\nstill rosy with the sunset. He paused at the gate and looked out on\nthem, and when he turned to Glani again, he saw a figure crouched\nagainst the base of the rock wall. It was Ruth, weeping, her head fallen\ninto her hands with weariness. Above her stood Glani, his head turned to\nthe master in almost human inquiry. The deep cry of David wakened her.\nThe gentle hands of David raised her to her feet.\n\n\"You have not come to drive me away again?\"\n\n\"To drive you from the Garden? Look back. It is black. It is full of\ndeath, and the world and our life is before us. I have been a king in\nthe Garden. It is better to be a man among men. All the Garden was mine.\nNow my hands are empty. I bring you nothing, Ruth. Is it enough? Ah, my\ndear, you are weeping!\"\n\n\"With happiness. My heart is breaking with happiness, David.\"\n\nHe tipped up her face and held it between his hands. Whatever he saw in\nthe darkness that was gathering it was enough to make him sigh. Then he\nraised her to the back of Glani, and the stallion, which had never borne\na weight except that of David, stood like a stone. So David went up the\nvalley holding the hand of Ruth and looking up to her with laughter in\nhis eyes, and she, with one hand pressed against her breast, laughed\nback to him, and the great stallion went with his head turned to watch\nthem.\n\n\"How wonderful are the ways of God!\" said David. \"Through a thief he has\ntaught me wisdom; through a horse he has taught me faith; and you, oh,\nmy love, are the key with which he has unlocked my heart!\"\n\nAnd they began to climb the mountain.","title":"The Garden of Eden","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":74773}