The Claim Jumpers - Page 29/103

The girl had watched it breathless. At its dissolution she seized the

young man excitedly by the arm.

"The Spirit Mountain!" she cried. "I have never seen it before; and now

I see it--with you."

She looked at him with startled eyes.

"With you," she repeated.

"What is it? I don't understand."

She did not seem to hear his question.

"What is it?" he asked again.

"Why--nothing." She caught her breath and recovered command of herself

somewhat. "That is, it is just an old legend that I have often heard,

and it startled me for a minute."

"Will you tell me the legend?"

"Not now; some time. We must go now, for it will soon be dark."

They wandered along the ridge toward Deerfoot Gulch in silence. She had

taken her sunbonnet off, and was enjoying the cool of the evening. He

carried the rifle over the crook of his arm, and watched her pensive

face. The poor little chipmunk lay stiffening in the cleft of the rock,

forgotten. The next morning a prying jay discovered him and carried him

away. He was only a little chipmunk after all--a very little

chipmunk--and nobody and nothing missed him in all the wide world, not

even his mate and his young, for mercifully grief in the animal world

is generally short-lived where tragedies are frequent. His life meant

little. His death---At the dip of the gulch they paused.

"I live just down there," she said, "and now, good-night."

"Mayn't I take you home?"

"Remember your promise."

"Oh, very well."

She looked at him seriously. "I am going to ask you to do what I have

never asked any man before," she said slowly--"to meet me. I want you

to come to the rock to-morrow afternoon. I want to hear more about New

York."

"Of course I'll come," he agreed delightedly. "I feel as if I had known

you years already."

They said good-bye. She walked a few steps irresolutely down the

hillside, and then, with a sudden impulsive movement, returned. She

lifted her face gravely, searchingly to his.

"I like you," said she earnestly. "You have kind eyes," and was gone

down through the graceful alder saplings.

Bennington stood and watched the swaying of the leaf tops that marked

her progress until she emerged into the lower gulch. There she turned

and looked back toward the ridge, but apparently could not see him,

though he waved his hand. The next instant Jim Fay strolled into the

"park" from the direction of Lawton's cabin. Bennington saw her spring

to meet him, holding out both hands, and then the two strolled back

down the gulch talking earnestly, their heads close together.

Why should he care? "Mary, Mary, Mary!" he cried within himself as he

hurried home. And in remote burial grounds the ancient de Laneys on

both sides turned over in their lead-lined coffins.