Gertrude told the messenger only that she understood the blockade in
the eighth district had been lifted and that the ploughs were headed
east. Then as the lad looked wonderingly at her, she started. Have I,
she asked herself, already become a part of this life, that they come
to me for information? But she did not add that the signer of the
message had promised to be with her in twenty-four hours.
That day for the first time in eighteen years, no trains ran in or out
of Medicine Bend, and an entire regiment of cavalry bound for the
Philippines was known to be buried in a snowdrift near San Pete. The
big hotel swarmed with snow-bound travellers. The snow fell all day,
but to Gertrude's relief her father and the men of the party were at
the Wickiup with Bucks, who had come in during the night with
reinforcements from McCloud. Unfortunately, the batteries that
followed him were compelled to double about next morning to open the
line back across the plains.
The gravity of the situation about her, the spectacle of the struggle,
now vast and all absorbing, made by the operating department to cope
with the storm and cold, and the anxieties of her own position plunged
Gertrude into a gloom she had never before conceived of. Her aunt's
forebodings and tears, her father's unbending silence and aloofness,
made escape from her depression impossible. When Solomon appeared she
besought him surreptitiously for news, but though Solomon fairly
staggered with the responsibilities of his position he could supply
nothing beyond rumors--rumors all tending to magnify the reliance
placed on Glover's capabilities in stress of this sort, but not at the
moment definitely locating him.
Next morning the creeping eastern light had not yet entered her room
when a timid rap aroused her. Solomon was outside the door with news.
"The ploughs will be here in an hour," he whispered.
"The ploughs?"
Solomon couldn't resist the low appeal for more definite word. He had
no information more than he had given, but he bravely journalized, "Mr.
Glover and everybody, ma'am."
"Oh, thank you, Solomon."
She rose, with wings beating love across the miles that separated him
from her. Day with its perplexities may beset, the stars bring
sometimes only grief; but to lovers morning brings always joy, because
it brings hope. She detained Solomon a moment. A resolve fixed itself
at once in her heart; to greet her lover the instant he arrived. She
could dress and slip down to the station and back before the others
awoke even. It was hazardous, but what venture is less attractive for
a hazard if it bring a lover? She made her rapid toilet with affection
in her supple fingers, and welcome glowing in her quick eyes, and she
left her room with the utmost care. Enveloped in the Newmarket,
because he loved it, her hands in her big muff, and her cheeks closely
veiled, she joined Solomon in the reception room downstairs.