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diff --git a/43542-0.txt b/43542-0.txt index 3400101..f6c29ae 100644 --- a/43542-0.txt +++ b/43542-0.txt @@ -1,30 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Beginners Luck, by Emily Hahn - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Beginners Luck - -Author: Emily Hahn - -Release Date: August 23, 2013 [EBook #43542] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEGINNERS LUCK *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43542 *** BEGINNERS LUCK @@ -5616,357 +5590,4 @@ With a last spurt of defiance he flung up his arm to shield himself. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Beginners Luck - -Author: Emily Hahn - -Release Date: August 23, 2013 [EBook #43542] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEGINNERS LUCK *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank - - - - - BEGINNERS LUCK - - OTHER WORKS: - SEDUCTIO AD ABSURDUM - - TO - MITCHELL DAWSON - - - - - CHAPTER ONE - - -He stepped off the train at Lamy expecting nothing at all. He had no -idea of the city he was entering: what it looked like, how one passed -the time, what people one would know--it was all unexplored. He had -never in his life been west of Buffalo. Mary, his mother, had written -him a few letters about it, but she had not had time to write much, and -anyway she was very busy finding out for herself. Mary expected to -settle down in Santa Fé for a long time; it was good for her health out -here and she liked it. - -Blake, on the other hand, had no plans. He was not supposed to have any: -he was too young to have plans. Mary had plans for him, no doubt, but as -yet he had no notice of them. - -He stood for two forlorn minutes on the platform at Lamy, wondering what -to do next. A chauffeur--a stranger--found him and took him in hand and -put him away, with the baggage, in a new limousine. The limousine then -turned around and began to drive up a winding hill, toward Santa Fé, -Mary and revelation. - -It was a beautiful drive up a long hill, the road twisting and leading -up and down in an intriguing manner. Blake tried hard to appreciate it, -but his mind would not behave. It kept reverting to another theme; a -tiresome theme; a threadbare theme. His mind was an independent -disagreeable thing with a passion for theatrical revivals. Just now it -disregarded the beautiful heights of the Sangre de Cristo mountains and -devoted itself to a New England scene, the setting of an unpleasant -memory. Heedless of Blake's desire, it carried the props to the stage -and set them up. Wearily, Blake helped. Obediently he placed the -head-master's desk in the exact middle of the head-master's room, just -below the window that looked out on the front view of the school. -Doggedly he put the head-master into the chair behind the desk, and -sullenly took up his own old position before the desk, facing Dr. -Miller. Everything was ready, and with lifted hand Dr. Miller began the -dialogue: - -DR. MILLER: I regret the necessity of this more than you can possibly -realize, Lennard. Some day, I hope that you will remember this moment -and then perhaps you will understand the difficulty of my position. This -is a moment that I have been dreading, frankly, dreading for some -months. - -BLAKE: I'm very sorry, sir. - -DR. MILLER: It is a little late to be sorry. You must understand it is -too late. No amount of apology---- - -BLAKE: I wasn't apologizing, sir. I said I was sorry. I haven't -apologized. - -DR. MILLER: Very well, Lennard. I have written to your mother. I hope -she will understand that I have done my best. You will leave here in the -morning in time to catch the nine-thirty. Your mother telegraphed that -you are to go---- - -BLAKE: I know. She telegraphed me. - -DR. MILLER: I think that is all. Good-bye, Blake. - -BLAKE: Good-bye, sir. - -DR. MILLER: Once more, Lennard; I'm more sorry than I can say that this -happened. - -BLAKE: Yes, sir, good-bye, sir. - -Here, at the exit, his mind was most tiresome of all. Just here at the -original performance Blake had slipped while making his exit. He had -done his best to leave that part out of the repetitions, but the more he -struggled the more ridiculous became the by-play. Today the stumble was -worse than it had ever been: he slipped on the rug at the door, waved -wildly about as he tried to catch his balance, and ultimately, after the -most ludicrous contortions, landed on his neck in a Charles Chaplin -abandon. All of this went on just as the limousine turned from the Lamy -cut-off to the main road. Writhing in an agony of embarrassment, Blake -forgot where he was and said aloud, in protest to the tyrannical -stage-manager, "No, I didn't!" - -The chauffeur cocked an ear and Blake burrowed down hastily behind a -suit-case. He left the charade with relief and began to look at the -mountains. Up ahead there was a group of buildings that looked as if it -might be the outpost of Santa Fé. It occurred to him that he might ask -the chauffeur to point things out to him. On second thought he decided -to wait and pick up his knowledge in a different way. The effort of -breaking silence would be terrific. - -So in silence they rode down the hill into town, past the first little -adobe houses and then by way of the outskirts to his mother's house. He -liked the outside of it: irregular and old-looking, with a wall that -started at the side and enclosed--imperfectly--a garden. Mary heard the -car and came to the door, in quite a hurry. That was nice of her and it -made Blake feel better. He had expected to find the door locked. - -She kissed him and didn't mention school. She asked after his aunt in -New York, disapproved of his tie, and sent him to his room to get -acquainted. There were three pieces of furniture in it: a low bed with -straight brown posts, a light dressing-table, and a wardrobe. The walls -were painted a light yellow and he walked all the way around wondering -how to decorate them with murals. He would need a bookcase: he could -paint it himself, purple to match the mountains. But now as he looked -from the window the mountains were not purple. They were blue, a deep -expressionless color. They were like pieces of passe-partout about the -edge of the valley, cut out in great rolling curves and pasted over the -disorderly meeting of sky and land. He leaned out of the window and -sniffed. His nose expected an odor of pine and wet ground; instead there -was a faint parched perfume of burning wood and sunburnt clay. It was -almost dark. He changed his tie and went in to tea. - -Bob Stuart had come to welcome him. Sitting on the edge of a chair, -talking fast and gesticulating with his free hand while he steadied his -tea-cup on his knee, he looked all wrong out here. He was practically an -uncle and he belonged to another world. He was embarrassing to Blake; he -took from the adventure and the new world its exclusive adventurous -quality. Still, he had changed. A funny little man with all his ideas -coming in rushes, bubbling over in sudden gestures and rapid words, his -orange hair had gained a dignity and he was not just an amusing little -person. He was unique. After forty-some years of managing to hold his -own, Bob had become independent. It was as if he had waked one day and -stood in front of the mirror, probably with his stiff hair leaning the -wrong way and his nose comically pink and small above the striped -pajamas. Perhaps he had suddenly said to himself: - -"Well, that's the way I am. What are they going to do about it? I am I. -That's that." - -It must have been something like that. At any rate, immediately -thereafter other people saw a change in Bob. He had put on a velvet -shirt of vivid purple, white Mexican trousers, and brown sandals that -exposed his big toes to friends and enemies, and to hell with them. He -walked the streets of Santa Fé with his nose up, neither seeking nor -shunning mirrors. It was not at all the same old Bob who now shook hands -with Blake. - -"Well, well, well," he said as the hands went up and down. "And how's -the young rebel?" - -This was a difficult question. Blake simpered and forgot to say -anything. Bob made a benevolent groaning noise and patted him on the -shoulder. - -"You'll outgrow it; you'll outgrow it. Here, I have another young rebel -for you to meet. Teddy! Where has he gone?" - -"Huh?" Over in the corner some one was prowling about looking at the -pictures. He came out of the shadows and stood waiting. - -"This is Teddy Madden. He ran away from home and came here to find -himself and be a genius." Bob patted Teddy now, in the same fashion. -"You must be great friends. Teddy, this boy has just been expelled from -school. He's going to tell us why." - -Across the painful benevolence that trembled in the air, the boys looked -at each other and took stock. Madden was older. His legs and arms were -sure of themselves. But he was not quite grown up; his mouth was not -quite sure. - -"Teddy's a great artist," Bob said. "Artists always run away from home, -Mary. It's a law of Nature. Didn't they tell you that at school?" he -asked Blake. - -"No, sir. They never talk about artists at all." - -"Oh, come now." Bob leaned forward hopefully, with his tirade against -modern education all ready in his mouth. "Do you mean to say that you -didn't study Michelangelo?" - -"But that's not art," Blake said, in all sincerity. "That's Ancient -History." - -"And that's an epigram, my son," said Mary. - -Madden seemed pleased. "Whether it is or not, it's a good one," he said. -Very sure of himself, he stood by Mary and handed tea-cups around. - -Of all of them the tea-pot seemed to be the only one that expected -anything of the gathering. The others subsided and waited for the -tea-pot to make a remark that would start things going. Blake looked at -it almost hopefully, it was so authoritative. What would it say? Being a -member of the family, it had a good deal of license. Being of an -aristocratic and expensive shape, it would doubtless waive its right, -like Mary, and remain as composed and silent as Mary herself. This is -just what it did. - -Under his own half-developed sense of responsibility Blake squirmed. It -was all his fault. If he had not been here, the tea party would have -been an informal pleasant thing. If he had been in his own room studying -Latin or looking out of the window at the reluctant New England spring, -Mary and Bob would even now be talking smoothly, worrying about nothing -at all. If he had not been here, gripping his cup with an angry -defiance, Teddy Madden would have been free to go back into the corner -and read. Instead, here they all sat, looking at each other. - -Bob cleared his throat and said loudly, "Well, Blake, what was it all -about? Tell us what crime you committed. We're waiting." - -Mary looked distressed, but said nothing. - -"I guess Dr. Miller wrote as much as I could tell you," said Blake. - -"He wrote, of course, darling," said Mary. "He has a way of obscuring -things. We just couldn't make it out at all." - -"He writes an extraordinary letter," added Bob. "Extraordinary. Wasn't -it, Ted?" - -"Absolutely," said Madden. Blake was suddenly furious that Madden had -seen it. What business was it of Madden's? What had his mother been -thinking of? - -There were little pin-scratches on the wood of his chair. Some of them -formed designs; just next to his hand on the right chair-arm was a -lopsided fleur-de-lys. But the design in the cloth of his trousers was -different; eyed closely, it had the appearance of a family of brown -triangles turning their backs with one accord on another family of tan -triangles.... - -"Blake," said Mary gently. - -He answered, "Well, I'm just trying to think of what to say. I don't -know what the matter is. I can't get along with people, I guess." - -"What sort of people, darling?" - -"Any sort. Masters. Boys. Anybody. It's my general attitude." - -"What?" cried Bob, smiling. - -"My general attitude. That's what Dr. Miller said. He said I was -unsocial and spoiled and an irritant to the community." - -"Yes, yes, yes," said Bob. "But what did you _do_? He wouldn't have sent -you away for that. There must have been something more specific." - -"There wasn't, really. I had a row with the English master about a theme -because I left out some commas and they were putting it into the school -magazine and he edited it. He put the commas back in and ran some of the -sentences together so that they would be well-rounded, he said. I told -him he hadn't any right to do it. He didn't have, either. He said there -were certain rules of language, and I said, all right, I would make up -some more. He was sore." - -"What else?" said Mary. - -"Then there were lots of little things. Mother, I hate that place. I -told you, Christmas. I said this would happen." - -"But you promised to try, dear. Did you?" - -"I did try at first. There was a meeting in the auditorium last week and -there was a man there to talk. He used to be a friend of Roosevelt and -he was Miller's cousin. They always play the Star Spangled Banner and -you're supposed to stand at attention, and I didn't." - -"But why didn't you?" said Bob. Blake said nothing. He couldn't explain. -It had been a sudden rush of anger at everything; he couldn't put that -feeling into words for Bob. - -"Well, dear, and then?" - -"I was called up to Miller and we had a fight about everything that had -happened. There was something else; a silly old fight about making too -much noise in the library." - -Blake's eyes met Teddy's, and he thought he saw the other boy nod at -him. He was a little comforted. - -"Well, well, well," said Bob, standing up, "it's a revolutionary age. We -mustn't take these things too seriously, Mary. Remember, we all outgrow -it. I must be getting along. Come on, Ted. Remember Tuesday." - -He patted Blake's head, kissed Mary, and went out. Teddy nodded casually -and followed him. He looked a little embarrassed. - -Mary patted Blake's head, too, but she couldn't think of anything to -say. He put down a cookie on the table and said, "I'm awfully sorry. I -couldn't help it, honestly." - -"I know. But I'm a little worried. What will you do in the fall?" - -"Couldn't I stop trying to go to school? It's no use, really. Let me go -to work." - -"Don't be ridiculous, dear. What could you do?" - -"I don't know. Something. I don't want to worry you." - -"You know you don't worry me. I want you to find yourself." - -"Uh-huh." He twirled a button on his coat. - -"Well," she said, "we'll think about it. You spend the summer here and -get a good rest." - -"What's it like?" - -"Oh, I think you'll like it very much. There are plenty of people for -you to play with." - -"How are you?" - -"Better, I think. Doctor Browning says to be very quiet this summer, and -it ought to work wonders." - -"Who's Madden?" - -"That's a very nice boy. Bob says he is really talented. He's been here -since early spring; I think he worked his way out just so he could join -the art colony. So many of those boys do that sort of thing.... I think -that we might find another school for you, dear, or a tutor. It would -mean only one more year, and you'll like college." - -"No, I won't. I don't want to go. Please." - -"Well, we'll see.... I think dinner is ready." - -He almost fell asleep at the table. It was the fault of the fire, so -near his chair. He couldn't stop watching it. Along the cracks in the -charcoal, little blue flames walked up and down lapping at the air. The -room was filled with the faint parched sweet smell. - -Anxious to get to his room and to look again at the mountains, he kissed -Mary and went to bed. He undressed and lay down and turned to the -window. But now there was nothing but darkness; the sky was full of very -big bright stars and around the edge of the world there were no more -stars. Big shadows had blotted them out, but what shape the shadows had -or how far away they were, it was impossible to say. He drew his knees -up and rubbed the pillow with his cheek and closed his eyes. - -For a long time he could not go to sleep; he kept his eyes shut with an -effort, against the waiting mass of the mountains; he smiled and jerked -his pillow closer to his shoulder, with a nervous alert hand. - - - - - CHAPTER TWO - - -"And over there is Camel Rock," Gin shouted, trying to reach the far -corners of the bus with her voice. Just then the driver went into low -and made it more difficult. She sat as near the edge of her seat as she -could without falling off when the bus turned a corner and rocked a bit. -Eleven heads turned obediently towards Camel Rock. - -"See it?" she screamed. "See the hump, and the head in front?" Her voice -almost cracked. - -They all saw it at last. Those who couldn't at first were helped by the -others, standing up to look back at it while the bus went on. Gin sat -back in the seat again and relaxed, swallowing hard. There would be -nothing more to show them until Santa Clara; perhaps she could be quiet -until then. She looked around to see if anyone was nursing a grievance. -Would they expect her to keep talking in between the points of interest? -Sometimes people wanted her to, other times they preferred to sleep. -There was a fat man in the third seat who showed signs of being -difficult; the kind of tourist who wrote letters to the company after -the trip, commending and criticizing. Every courier lived in terror of -such a letter. - -"While I have nothing but praise for the courtesy and attention of your -driver, I am sorry to say that none of us were satisfied with Miss -Arnold's behaviour. She seemed distracted; she did not attend to her -duties. She seemed to lose no opportunity for disappearing from us; -whenever the occasion offered itself for her to wander off, she was -nowhere to be found. I am unwilling to complain about anything connected -with your excellent tours, but I must say that when I have paid an extra -fare of forty-seven dollars and fifty cents...." - -Gin took a deep breath and leaned forward to the fat man. - -"Do you like this road, Mr. Butts?" she asked tenderly. "It's quite -famous. The guests always like it. I do think that this is one of the -nicest trips we have, even if it _is_ included in the regular Detour. -The first and third days may be more educational, but today I think -you'll have a lovely time besides." - -Mr. Butts merely grunted, but there was a satisfactory reaction from the -old lady who sat in front of him. She turned and smiled nervously. - -"Isn't this road dangerous for the speed we're going?" she quavered. "Of -course it's perfectly beautiful. Mr. Butts, do look at that, right -behind you!" - -Mr. Butts turned his head resignedly and looked. The bus had come to a -place that gave a short glimpse of Santa Fé behind them, tiny and white -and scattered. It was immediately hidden by the dark turbulent waves of -hill around it as they drove on. - -"Pretty," said Mr. Butts in his brief way. - -Gin gave it up for the moment and settled back, fanning herself with her -hat. The bus was hot and stuffy, although all the glass windows were -open. She yawned and drifted off, thankful that she wasn't feeling -particularly nauseated today by the constant motion. Some of the girls -could never get used to it, but she seemed to be adjusted. She looked -around apathetically at the dudes and wondered if they were all as -stupid as they appeared or if it was because she needed sleep. Some -days, it was true, everyone was perfectly charming. Those were the days -that followed good healthy nights of sleep. There weren't many of them, -she thought ruefully. She often thought ruefully of her habits, but -never to the extent of changing them. No one did in Santa Fé when they -had lived there as long as she had. - -One of the crowd today wasn't so bad, she thought. She had noticed him -at the hotel office when he signed on at the last minute for the trip. -As skilful as the clerk in sizing up the tourists, she had put him -immediately in the pigeon-hole reserved for summer visitors who stayed -the season. He was no train-tripper. He probably lived in one of the big -houses outside of town, with a swimming-pool and a stable. A -nice-looking kid, just a baby, probably sixteen. Since she had not seen -him before, he must be new. Since he was wearing summer clothes of an -extreme carelessness--blue shirt and white trousers and no hat--he was -not a resident; residents of Santa Fé never admitted that it was a -summer resort; they tried to dress as if Santa Fé were New York. Well, -he'd be around now, riding around the Plaza, playing tennis with Teddy -Madden, looking scornfully at the newcomers after he had been there a -week, and talking learnedly of Indian customs. He was new, though: she -could tell it by the fact that he was taking a trip with her and looking -at everything with an ingenuous pleasure. She liked the way he looked -out of the window. He was taking it hard. - -It made her pensive and reminiscent: his youthful rapt gaze. She thought -of the first time she had driven out here, with the couriers' training -school. It had been raining; up on Baldy there was a light snow and -there was mist around Jemez. She had felt terribly excited. All the -other girls told her it was the altitude. Whatever it was, she liked it. -And then the bus had come near Española and the valley.... They were -almost there now; she watched the boy like a cat, to see what would -happen to him when he saw it. - -Yes, he got it. She knew it by the way his thin little shoulders jerked -and his head leaned back, closer to the window. She could just see the -back of his head, but she knew. When _she_ had first seen it, she had -cried. Probably the effect of the altitude, but why not? There was -nothing like it anywhere else. The valley was absolutely naked; bare -rock shaped in lumps on the bare sand, drowning in mists of vague -lavender and dark blue and thin brown and yellow, transparent colors. -The rock was shaped in pillars and blocks and squat cylinders, cut off -flat at the tops. It was all dead and ghostly. Nothing lived here. The -few scraggy clumps of juniper were not alive, for they were as ancient -and dusty as the rocks, and as motionless. - -It was only for a few miles. Beyond, the land lived again, flushed to -foliage by the lazy sandy river. Back of all of it were the real -mountains, with pine forests and trout streams, but now while Gin and -the boy looked at them they were too far off to be green; they were dead -dark blue. - -"My, that's gloomy," said the cheerful lady from Chicago. "Miss Arnold, -is that land good for anything? Does the government own it, or what?" - -They crossed the wide white bridge to Española and followed the road -through a rocky country, bearing down on the ugly round buildings that -housed the Government schools. Approaching Santa Clara, the driver -honked his horn loudly to warn the pottery-venders. By the time he came -to a stop before the church, in the dry yellow plaza surrounded by -square adobe huts, the women were filing out to the clear space in the -centre, carrying their pottery on their heads and swinging baskets of -smaller stuff--modelled animals, black-painted, and bead belts and -necklaces. They walked serene and fat, surrounded by children and yellow -dogs. They sat down in a neat half-circle before the bus and spread -their wares out, impassive or smiling in their cotton shawls and long -smocks. Eleven potential customers climbed out of the leather chairs and -looked curiously at the big black bowls and the brown faces. - -The men of the party were already saying, "That would be fine for Cousin -Sally," and the women were saying, "Now, John, be careful. We've just -packed the trunk as it is; we can't buy everything we see," when Gin -slipped away. She hurried around the corner of a house and walked down -one of the many back paths, trying to get away before someone asked her -to argue with an Indian about the price of the bowls. She stopped at one -of the screen doors and peeped in. Her friend was at home, making a bowl -in the middle of the whitewashed clay floor. - -"Oh, come in, Ginny," said Rufina, pushing a chair with her feet. "I -heard you coming. How are you? I haven't seen you here for a week. Been -sick?" - -"No, they sent me to the Canyon all of a sudden, and I just got back -yesterday. How's all the family?" A sticky little girl, pursued by -flies, climbed up in her lap. - -"Not so good. My mother is still sick, but she is getting better. Did -you bring many people today?" - -"One full load, that's all." - -"We have been busy. Yesterday there were so many. Two buses and other -people coming by themselves, all day." - -Outside the door a bulky shadow fell. It was the lady from Chicago, -reconnoitering on her own. Gin wondered if she had been walking into any -of the houses without knocking; it sometimes had an oddly infuriating -effect on the Indians. - -"Oh, there's Miss Arnold right at home in the middle of them. Come here, -Eddie, here's the cutest thing. I want you to take a picture of it. -Look, here's an Indian making a pot right in her own house. Isn't that -darling? Would you think that you were in the States?" - -"Come in," said Rufina. They stepped over the threshold and she sat back -on her heels, smiling blankly. - -"Oh, look," said the lady loudly. "A baby too, right in Miss Arnold's -lap. Perfectly adorable. Miss Arnold," she asked, whispering in a small -shout, "aren't you afraid of catching things? Her hair...." - -Gin said that it was time to go back to the bus. She held open the door, -waved good-bye to Rufina hastily, and went back to the marketplace. -Eight of the dudes were back in the car, and Blake was waiting for her -with a new purchase to show her, a turquoise ring. - -"Let's see it," she said, and he took it off and handed it over. - -"Why, it's quite nice," she said. "Did you buy it here?" - -"Yes, that man over there was wearing it and I asked him if he wanted to -sell. Is it really good? I liked the colour of the stone." - -"The green stones always look nice, I think," she said. "Nice and old. -They're not the best, of course," she added in low tones. "You probably -paid more than he expected, but it's good-looking, I think." - -It was not ethical to tell any dude that he had paid too much, but he -didn't seem to care. He liked the ring, that was all. Summer people -always collected jewelry in a serious way--they liked to have heavy -bracelets sitting around on the tables or shelves in a careless, opulent -manner. The old timers scorned it. - -Now the other ten were sitting in the bus, and on Mr. Butts' face was a -look that meant, "Must we wait all day while that hussy flirts?" - -She took her own seat, thinking that she would get Mr. Butts yet. - -They were growing a little impatient about lunch, she thought. The long -drive up to Puye, around a hairpin turn that made the Chicago lady -squeal for three minutes, distracted them a little from the idea of -food. But not much. On top of the plateau while they were exclaiming -over the view she thought of something that might get the wedge into Mr. -Butts. - -"In November," she said as they entered the forest, "there are wild -turkeys here. Lots of the boys in town shoot a couple during the -season." He grunted, but turned to look again at the neat wooded lawns. -"He's slipping," she thought hopefully. - -The cliffs of Puye were nearer: pale yellow in the pale brightness of -the air. Higher and higher they went, round big curves that pulled them -closer to the caves with every sweep. She showed them the caves---- - -"See those dark spots? Those are the cliff-dwellings we came out to see. -Yes, we'll see them much closer than this, Mrs. Jennings. We're going to -climb right up; right up there." Mrs. Jennings squealed a little. She -had them already, Gin reflected; she had all of them but Mr. Butts. How -long would he take? - -They swarmed over the rest-house when the bus came to a halt. - -"Lunch!" she cried gaily. Mr. Butts seemed unimpressed. The hostess -called her into the kitchen and whispered, "I'm at my wits' ends. Will -you please put it into your report again tonight? I simply cannot manage -without another maid. I'm sorry, Gin, but I don't think you'll have much -time for your own lunch today. Would you mind eating it afterwards?" - -Gin carried plates and glasses back and forth from the kitchen to the -living-room. Mrs. Jennings offered to help in a very sportsmanslike -Western manner, but she was refused. Gin was horrified at the idea of a -dude stepping into the kitchen. The hostess worked furiously unpacking -the lunch that had come on the back of the bus; jellied soup and salad -and apricot pie. - -"Gosh, I get sick of this soup," said Gin disconsolately in the kitchen, -talking to the cook. "It's worse when I have three trips to the same -place in succession. Some day I'll start bringing my own lunch." She -walked over to the window and watched the dudes disporting on the porch, -fully fed and happy, teasing the rest-house puppy. Mr. Butts looked -dour, however. He hadn't been able to eat the apricot pie or the -sandwiches because he was on a diet. "That fat one," she told the cook, -"is pretty bad." - -The cook looked over her shoulder and agreed heartily. "They all travel, -that kind. Nobody will keep them at home. Have some more coffee?" - -"No thanks. We'll have to be starting. Well...." With a gesture of -tightening her belt, she walked out to the porch. "Well, people, are we -ready to go?" - -"Where to?" asked Mr. Butts. - -"Right up there." She pointed to the stone-stepped hill behind the -house, with the caves at the top of a long climb. Mr. Butts seemed to -hesitate. "Curly's going," Gin added, nodding to the driver. "Aren't -you, Curly?" - -"Sure thing. I'll take care of you." - -Mrs. Jennings was the first to step forward. "All right; if Curly can -make it, I can." - -Mr. Butts' masculinity conquered, and he set out without further -discussion. Blake had evidently gone on ahead; they could see him at the -top with his hands in his pockets, looking around in a very pleased -fashion all by himself. - -There is a steep ladder at the top of the hill which leads from the -slope to the flat summit. It sometimes causes a lot of trouble to people -who have not caught their breath while they study the caves. Two of the -ladies in Gin's party looked at it fearfully and refused to climb it at -all. They proposed to go down again to the rest-house, and said that -they were satisfied with what they had seen. This feminine timidity -spurred Mr. Butts to a genial teasing attitude. He laughed at the -ladies; he taunted them; he essayed the ladder and found it easily -conquered. From the top he persuaded them to be brave and come along. -With pushing, pulling, lifting and pleading, they all managed to get -there, and they gathered in a triumphant panting group about Gin, -talking of mountain climbing in Switzerland and taking pictures of the -ladder. She gathered her flock about her on the wind-swept summit and -lectured on the glory that was Puye, waving to the piles of debris that -once were houses and pointing out the dry water-hole. They walked the -length of the village and peered into the excavations. They looked down -upon the distant top of the rest-house. They stood up straight and -breathed hard and gazed for miles over the tree-tops to the distant -mountains, which did not look so high as they had before. Blake -sauntered away and looked for bits of pottery. And Gin kept a wary eye -on the red face of Mr. Butts. - -"Yes, he's slipping," she told herself. - -Afterwards they started home, a long silent ride that was uninterrupted -except for a short visit to Tesuque. They were too tired to take much -interest in Tesuque, which after all was just another Indian village. Of -course, there was old Teofilo. Teofilo was a great help with his -professional attitude of glad-hander; he greeted all couriers with the -same glad surprise, although he saw at least one a day, and he was more -than willing to show his scarred head, which had once been scalped. He -loved to have his picture taken. - -Then, the rest of the way was quiet. The dudes arranged their cameras in -their laps, peered around at the bigger pots stored in the back of the -bus, and settled down to doze. The afternoon waned and the shadows -lengthened across the road and the mountains darkened. In town, Curly -manipulated the bus through the narrow streets and stopped before the -Palace of the Governors, now a museum. - -"We stop here to see the Museum," Gin shouted through the bus. "Indian -relics and paintings and the chair Lew Wallace wrote 'Ben Hur' in. -Afterwards we walk back to the hotel." - -"Good-bye," said Blake suddenly, and climbed out. Off across the Plaza -he sprinted; he could be seen intercepting Teddy Madden just as he was -going into the drug store. Gin looked after them and wondered if Teddy -had made any attempt to call her that morning. Perhaps she had better -call him and remind him that they had a date. He was so forgetful. -Mechanically she ushered the dudes into the Palace, then to the first -room on the right. - -"Now, here we have a model of the place we saw yesterday. See, here's -the ruined church...." - -But if she called Teddy, Harvey would answer the phone and might think -that she had called to speak to him. Had she a good enough excuse for -calling Teddy? Was she justified in assuming that they were good enough -friends? Oh, to hell with that. There was no reason why she shouldn't -call him. - -"This is the Frijoles room. Frijoles is one of the places we have for -private tours. It is very lovely and very famous: it's all excavated. We -take it in one-day trips or two: there's a hotel with cabins for rooms. -It's most interesting. It has cave-dwellings similar to what we saw -today, but they're in the walls of the canyon instead of being on a -cliff. There's a little model of the kiva; see, like the ceremonial cave -we saw today." - -With a guilty feeling, she came back to the business in hand and -listened to herself talking like a Victrola. That was no way to act. One -must put oneself over. Mr. Butts was looking at the pictures on the -walls with a thoughtful eye, a competitive eye. She smiled at him, -glowing with all the force of her personality. - -"I'll tell you what effect that has on me, Mr. Butts," she said -confidentially. "When I stand there in that canyon I get the queerest -feeling." It was true, that was the worst of all, she thought. The idea -of telling him! "When I'm there I can't help feeling that the people who -used to live in those caves are still there, in a way. They're being -very quiet, and looking at me." She paused and stared at him with wide -eyes. "It's silly of me, isn't it?" - -Yes, she had him. He looked down at her and thought about Frijoles and -the dead cave-dwellers, and he looked at her again and thought of the -lost ages when men were men, and of the ladder he had climbed today, and -of the letter he could write home about it. She knew it. She had him. - -"You do?" he asked, and there was actually a kindly glint in that fishy -eye. "So that's how it makes you feel, does it?" - -He rubbed his chin. He looked at her and saw her as a person instead of -a courier, a person who had watched him climb that ladder. There would -be no letter to the company. She had him. - -"Well, well, well," he said jovially. "Well well well." - - - - - CHAPTER THREE - - -The Madden boy was worried about his laundry. It was a week late, he -couldn't remember who was doing it for him, and besides he was having -one of those moods that made him worry about little things. It was not -so much the tragic lack of socks, he told Harvey Todd, but there were -three shirts in it that belonged to Bob Stuart. - -"I hate not returning people's clothes," he said. "I hate wearing them -in the first place but this time I couldn't help it. It's maddening." - -Harvey never rose to the heights of hysteria, and this time he was -almost phlegmatic. "It'll be along," he said. "Don't forget, some of it -was mine. I'll help you yell when the time comes. Jesus, I'm late." He -slammed down his cup on the table, between a broken tumbler and an eggy -plate, and hurried out of the door, carrying his hat. - -"Canaille," said Teddy humorously. "Cochon," he added into the mirror, -scowling fiercely. - -"Señor?" asked a tremulous voice at the door. A little girl held out a -huge bundle as he opened the screen. "Eighty-four cents," she said. "My -mother says she can't find one sock. She send tomorrow." - -"Oh, yes? Well, tell her I'll pay then." - -"Si, señor." There was boredom and cynicism in her tone as she turned -away. Teddy's eyes narrowed; he thought of challenging her, but what was -there to say? He shrugged and forgot it, sitting by the table and -looking vacantly at the unopened bundle. The sun crept up his leg and -his kneecap began to prickle pleasantly under the linen trousers. He sat -still until the bundle blurred and moved gently out of itself, -projecting a phantom bundle an inch away from its own crisp outlines, -hovering a little above the shining top of the table on which it had -lain. He dreamed; a good picture like this, with the checkered -table-cloth and the spots of sunlight.... A fly bit him savagely on the -ankle and he stood up. - -The picture waiting for him must be finished today or he would hate -himself. Last night he should not have stopped after working up to it -all day. Had he gone on, it might have been really good. Could he ever -do anything really good? Why couldn't he get immersed, and forget people -and money and his own fading flesh? He looked at the easel and felt that -he would never see it as it should be; he almost wept from exasperation. -There were so many interruptions. There was his own careless -incompetence, and his eternal itching to see people and to have people -love him, and there was money. Money.... A familiar panic began to rise. -He seized a brush and set to work. - -It wouldn't go. He moved about distractedly, trying to clean up the -room. The dirty plates were piled up in the sink; he made a few dabs at -them and changed his mind. He looked apathetically at the stiff spotted -table-cloth and hung up a leather coat that had slipped from its nail. -Then he caught a glimpse of the painting from a new angle; a real -feeling of interest persuaded him to get to work again. - -Another hour was coaxed out of eternity. The sun crept farther into the -warm house; out in the street was a growing rush of motorcars and -sometimes a clatter of hoofs; the tap in the sink dripped with a -cheerful chiming splash on the tumbled china. He whistled and painted. -Beginning to feel cramped, he took a short walk around the room, keeping -a wary eye on the canvas as if it might take flight with his spasm of -energy. It was clear again; he saw just what he wanted and perhaps he -could do it. But not just now. - -"Stale," he said aloud to his conscience, and his voice sounded choked -and rusty in the empty room. He would do something else for awhile. -Shave? The idea of putting on water to heat seemed impossible. Wait till -later; plenty of water at Bob's. He leaned to the mirror and rubbed his -chin thoughtfully, wondering how he would look with a beard. Bob -wouldn't like it. That reminded him of the shirts and he untied the -laundry, sorting it out and hesitating sometimes, sock in hand, between -the two piles of segregated underwear, his own and Harvey's. He always -gave himself the benefit of the hesitation. But it meant nothing: Harvey -would ravage his store at the first necessity. - -The work impulse was quite dead. He felt relieved, as though he had -flung a small morsel into the maw of his conscience, but otherwise there -was no twinge of energy. He tied up Bob's shirts and put the last -unbroken record on the rickety little Victrola, borrowed one evening -from Gin and still unreturned. They needed records: the Lennards had -good records. Blake kept up pretty well; he probably just walked into a -place and bought up everything. Pretty soft for him. - -Well, one could make out by snuggling up to the big houses, riding in -their cars and going to their parties and drinking their liquor. One -smothered the occasional fever of hopeless malice. They couldn't help -being lazy and easily pleased and careless. If only they wouldn't try to -be critical about painting. There must be things they couldn't have; -there must be. - -"When I am rich," he thought, and then, "but if I never am?" - -He paused with a clean towel in his hand, and looked around. The room -was still the same, small and bare and cluttered and dirty. Outside the -window was a blue mountain-peak beyond a broad dwindling stretch of -juniper-dotted sand, but around his house there were other little low -houses, mud houses sinking in the mud of the road. He turned slowly -around, looking hopelessly at the yellow walls and at the tiny -fire-place spilling pine ash out on the floor. The picture was shining -wetly and tiny knobs of paint on the canvas shed tiny shadows. He -frowned at it, stepped suddenly closer and examined it carefully. - -The letter-box outside clanged in closing, and he heard the postman -going away. More bills? Perhaps there would be something else: he -decided to see. There was a letter from home, from Minnesota. - -The very sight of the postmark sent a heavy lump to his chest. If he -didn't open it? If he dropped it into the gray ashes by accident, and -waited until Harvey had burned it in the evening? Busy with the thought, -he moved his hand up and down balancing it, weighing it. To open it -would mean the day lost, with all his work ruined. He would read it and -then flee from the close little room, searching madly all over town for -someone--anyone--who knew nothing about Minnesota or families: someone -rich and lazy and lucky and dumb; some stranger. Burn it; burn the next -one and the next and the next. Burn it. - -With a despairing glance at his mountain, a farewell glance, he tore it -open and found a check for ten dollars, blotted a little and somehow -nibbled at the edges. The letter was on blue-lined paper. From the -little square sheets rose an almost visible feeling, like smoke; the -room was steeped in Teddy's guilt. And yet it was a nice letter. - - "Dear Teddy," his mother had written, innocently enough, at the - old brown desk in the front room. "I don't want to scold you in - this letter because I know it is hard to find time to write when - you are getting started, I thought that I would have to tell you - that your father gets worried. I tell him not to be foolish as I - am sure if anything had happened we would be notified right - away. He worries about everything these days because business is - not very good. We are very well except for a cold that has run - through the family, I hope you are taking care of yourself, I - can't help thinking that you are too young to be so far away. - Tommy's report from school is a little better than it has been - especially on spelling. There is not much news, the Dibbles are - having a hard time with Kenneth, I am afraid he is a wild boy. - Tommy saw him Saturday night with that girl at the drug store - and they had been drinking. I am so sorry for Mrs. Dibble, I am - sure if a son of mine acted like that it would kill your father. - He was saying this morning he could probably speak to Mr. Larsen - about your working in the store here, I tell him it is more - likely the country that is the attraction out there, the picture - you sent is very pretty. Please write even a postcard, your - father worries. I enclose something to help out, you don't need - to mention it when you write because your father is worried - about the business. - - Lovingly, your - Mother." - -The Madden boy put the letter down on the table and walked around the -room, thinking. The first few minutes were always the hardest. He -reasoned with himself frantically, trying to get rid of that lump in his -chest. He hated himself; more than that he hated his mother. It was not -right to make him feel so guilty. It was not right. People don't stay -home. His father had not stayed home. He had run away to Minnesota; if -he happened to marry and have children, why should they stay home? - -Oh, forget it, forget it. There was the check, now. A boy in a book -would send it back with interest. He couldn't do that. He couldn't just -send it back like that and hurt her feelings. The only frank, honest, -brave thing to do was to keep it, in the face of all families, all -feelings, all outworn nests and prisons. This was his city, these his -mountains. Somewhere in America there was a woman who had borne him, but -everywhere there were children being born. What about it? He asked his -mother that. What about it? Oh, damn. - -Someone threw a rock against the door. Furiously he tore it open and -looked out. - -"Oh," he said, "it's you. Come in." - -Blake Lennard, it was, sitting on a norse and wearing a huge Stetson. He -looked light-hearted and absurd, but shy. He started to climb down. - -"You're up?" he said. "No one else seems to be. I've been riding all -over town trying to find my way. What I thought was that maybe you would -like to ride; there is another horse up at the house. I had it saddled -in case I found anyone. I want to see what it's like around here. Are -you too busy?" - -"Fine, no, come on in. I'll be ready in a second." The hysteria had -departed. Until the next letter. Meantime there were all the playboys -and the parties. - -Blake stepped in, looking around with equal interest in everything, the -bed with colored blankets tossed in the middle and the dusty bits of -art. - -"Is it yours?" he asked, looking at the picture. "I like it. Don't you? -It's almost finished: weren't you working on it? Didn't I really -interrupt?" - -"No," said the Madden boy, crushing a piece of paper and throwing it -into the fire, "I wasn't going to finish it. Chuck me that boot, will -you?" - - - - - CHAPTER FOUR - - -Gin dropped her suitcase to the porch with a loud sigh, fished in the -rusty mailbox to no avail, and fumbled with her key at the lock. The -door swung open at her touch. She stared at Flo, who was garbed in the -green kimono that was signal of a rest-day, and who stared back in -gloomy impassivity. Her lips were puffed and her eyes were red. - -"Hello!" cried Gin. "Why are you here?" - -"Well, guess." Flo shuffled over to the sofa and a pile of stockings -that needed darning. "I got up early this morning and went down to the -office, all ready and waiting. I've been packed for two days, I was so -excited." - -"I know." - -"Well, the cars all lined up and everybody came except three of my -dudes. They were a family. I guess they just decided not to come, -without any notice. It was so late that Mr. God just put the other one -into Rita's car instead, and they sent her, and told me to go home. That -means the third year running that I've missed out on the Hopi country." - -"Oh, you poor thing!" In all Gin's rush of indignation she was afraid to -say more. With her mouth open, waiting to pour forth incitement to -rebellion, she looked at Flo's miserable face and turned instead to her -suit-case. The purple velvet blouse went into the rickety wardrobe, but -after a quick survey of the rest of the contents she closed the bag and -pushed it into the corner, ready for tomorrow. - -"Gee, I'm sorry," she added over her shoulder, draping her suit-coat on -a hanger. - -"Oh, well," said Flo heavily, "I'll be over all this by tomorrow, I -suppose. I've been as sore as this before. I'm just mad because I turned -down a date for tomorrow night and now I'll be in town after all, -probably." - -"It's a rotten deal. Call up and say your plans have changed. Where are -the cigarettes?" - -"On the table behind you. No, I'm not going to call up now. I'm ashamed -to do it; I talked too much about the Hopi trip. I might as well give up -trying to keep any contacts in this damned town. They're always being -mixed up. What sort of crowd did you have?" - -"Ghastly." Gin sat down on the couch and propped her feet up, taking a -long comfortable puff. "It was a married couple with a kid and an old -lady who kept saying, 'Now, young woman, tell me what I'm going to see!' -Whenever I tried to tell her she'd look over my head with a patient -expression." - -"I can just see her. They come in packages." Flo picked up another -stocking and spread her fingers out in the heel. "Gin, I'm fed up. -Really." - -"Naturally," said Gin, as comfortingly as possible. - -"No, it isn't just that. I've been thinking over the whole situation. -I've been here since the beginning of the Detour: I've had three years -of it. Where am I? What have I got out of it?" - -"What have you got?" Gin smiled and watched the smoke. "Oh, you've got a -swell Navajo belt." - -"Yes, a belt and a half dozen shirts I wouldn't dream of wearing if they -weren't part of the uniform, and a lot of silver junk that I'm sick of -looking at. I'd sell it if I didn't need it for the effect." - -"But of course there's the experience. Many a girl of your age is -hanging around in New York or Chicago trying to catch a husband so she -can stop playing the typewriter eight hours a day. This is fun. Honestly -it is: think of the city, and the dirt!" - -"Experience." Flo pronounced it carefully, with a burlesque tone of -rapture. "You like that word. It's the same thing as adventure, isn't -it?" - -"Just about." - -"Yeah. I used to have ideas about adventure, too." - -"Oh, you're old and weary. Forget it." - -"No, I'm telling you an idea. I think that adventure isn't worth a damn -unless you can talk about it afterwards. It's all in the story. I know." - -"Well, go ahead and tell the story. Who's stopping you?" - -"Who wants to hear it? The couriers don't want to hear about it; they -have the same thing every day. I can't talk to the dudes about it. They -just want to hear how many Indians are born every year." - -"Or if the couriers aren't Mexican, really. Or how many stamps to use on -letters to Chicago. Well, tell your friends. They enjoy it." - -"What friends? I haven't any." - -Gin was tired of it. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Flo. Snap out of it." - -"But I haven't. Who on earth would take the trouble to go on being a -friend of any of us when we're always leaving town? It takes too much -energy. As soon as I make a dinner date the office deadheads me to -Albuquerque to wait for some railroad official who's taking a free -vacation to the canyon or something. People get tired of that. No one -ever asks me for bridge any more. I never have time to write letters: I -don't even feel like it. I bet a soldier gets just this way, living in -training camp.... The only people I ever see in any connected way are -the other girls and the drivers and the Indians. And the nigger in the -lavatory on the Chief, when I'm on the trains." She broke off the thread -and rolled up two stockings. "We're pathetic figures. Don't you realize -it? I've been realizing it all day." - -"Have it your own way," said Gin. "In my artless fashion I thought I was -enjoying myself, but have it your own way. Have a drink." - -"I don't care if I do." - -Gin went into the kitchen, knelt down before a cabinet that was shrouded -in a cretonne curtain, and pulled out a glass keg of corn liquor. She -poured out two small glasses and went back to the living room. - -Flo tasted hers and said again, "I'm fed up." Gin watched her curiously -and felt a little depressed. Sometimes she too had a feeling of -hopelessness; it was probably the same thing now with Flo. Were they -coming to her more often lately? Would she too become chronically tired -and aggrieved? How long before she began to indulge in that dangerous -game of wondering what it was all about? She drank the corn -thoughtfully, thinking about her first days here. It had all been fun, -but most especially, she remembered the party the old girls had given -for the new, when they had begun to tell their favorite stories about -dudes. There was the girl who gave them the list of W. C.'s available -for every trip, and made them practice how to ask the gentlemen if they -needed them. - -"You don't really need to say anything to them. You just say to the -nearest woman in a loud whisper, 'Would you like to...?' and they'll -watch where you go, if they have any sense." - -Then there had been the last lecture, when Mr. God gave them a little -talk on the aims of the company and ended his address with a delicate -plea for--well, for what? Sobriety and morality, probably. What he said -was, "I need hardly add that we assume that every girl is a _lady_, in -the best sense of the word...." - -They had giggled at that, all the way back to the apartment. It _was_ -fun, the whole idea; tearing over the countryside all day and not -knowing every evening where you would be the next night. Flo was tired, -that was all: it would pass---- - -"We might cut up tonight," she said aloud. "There's a new movie isn't -there? Or would you like to hire a car and go out of town somewhere? -Come on, let's do that." - -"Don't be an idiot," Flo grumbled. "It costs too much. I don't know if -I'll last till next pay day as it is. I tell you, though, we might get -dressed up and eat at the hotel instead of fixing something here." - -"Yes, that wouldn't be bad. Is there any hot water? Oh, wait a minute." -The phone was ringing: she ran to answer it and called back, "Flo, it's -Tom and he says it's going to be moonlight. He and Wally want us to go -up the canyon for a picnic. Should I tell him we'll fix the supper?" - -Flo frowned, as usual, and protested. "But there's nothing in the -house...." - -"Now, don't be that way. We can send for something. It'll do us good. -Come on." - -"Oh, all right. Who's going?" - -"Just us and the cowboys. Tom says he can have the horses here by seven. -Hurry and make up your mind, he's waiting." - -"It's all right with me." She hesitated, struggling with her woe, then -hurried into the kitchen and started to slice bread. - -They were well on the way by the time the moon appeared over a dip in -the range of hills to the east. The night air was warm; in the moonlit -darkness their shadows were grotesquely different in size. Tom's hat was -the largest thing about him; it swept in a beautiful curve above his -sharp face. He rode ahead of the others, glancing around to talk to Flo, -who followed stiff and a little ill at ease in the saddle, perpetually -thinking and talking of her horse. Gin and Wally rode side by side, but -Wally was immense and the horse he rode was also immense: when Gin said -anything to him she had to look up. She didn't say much: Wally was in a -reminiscent mood and kept the conversation going without any help. - -"I mind at one of the shows at Cheyenne," he said, "the judges was just -beginning to catch on the wild cow milking trick. I won out because they -caught everybody else." - -"What is the trick? I never heard of it." - -"No, they don't do it no more. You've got to show milk in the bottle to -win: the first one who gets to the stand with milk in the bottle wins -the money. The boys used to carry milk right along with them, in the -bottle, in their pocket, and make a few motions at the cow with it and -then run along to the judges' stand. It was just a race really. This -time the judges was watching out and they felt the bottles and the milk -was cold so that let them out." - -"And yours wasn't cold?" - -"Oh no," said Wally. "I'd been carrying the milk in my mouth: it was -right warm. That was the only money I took at that show." - -The creaking of the saddles and the mixed beat of the horses' hoofs -added to a peaceful rhythm of night noises. Passing a farmyard, a little -black dog darted out with fierce yaps and Gin's horse jumped nervously -and started to trot. The other three fell into the stride; gathering -speed, they cantered up a rise in the road and swung around a bend into -the canyon itself. A light breeze met them. Gin closed her eyes, giving -herself up to the feeling. She was thinking about Teddy. It was a good -thing she had managed to get out of the house tonight. She'd been -spending too many evenings waiting for him to call up. - -"Probably this is one of the evenings he'll decide to call," she -thought, and tried to be glad that she wouldn't be there to answer the -phone. "When I see him again I'll tell him I was in town, and that'll -show him that I don't always wait for him." But would it do any good? -Would it have any effect, and if so, what effect did she want it to -have? She couldn't figure out how she felt about him. He exasperated -her: she always made up her mind to quarrel with him next time she saw -him--perhaps a quarrel would break down his easy, lazy indifference to -everything--and then when she saw him, she always forgot. It was only -when she wasn't with him that she was so exasperated. Silly to feel -anything about him at all. They didn't know each other very well: they -hardly ever saw each other. She wondered whether to speak to Flo about -it. But Flo had no use for the Camino crowd at all: she refused to -consider them human. "Nuts," she called them, and forgot all about them. - -The soft ceaseless flow of words from Wally and the loping horses pushed -Gin into an exaltation, after a little. She was part of the Western -world at last: not the West of the daytime where people brushed their -teeth and went to offices, but the real West that existed in the -fifteen-cent magazines on drugstore racks and the old films that were -shown at the theatre Saturday nights. - -Baldy slowed down suddenly to a walk, stopped by the horses ahead of -him. They all hesitated a moment, then followed Tom's lead and turned -down a path that led to the canyon river. - -"I remember a good place along here," he said, and they splashed and -waded to a flat plot of ground with a few bushes leaning over from the -slope. Here they swung off and tied the horses, gathering a few small -logs and sticks. - -"We brought coffee," Wally said, "so as to have a fire." They had -brought something else too: a bottle of milky liquor that Tom claimed -was tequila. - -Gin disagreed on principle. "You're crazy. There never is any tequila in -Santa Fé. Every time some bootlegger goes wrong on his gin he sells the -batch to cowboys and calls it tequila." - -"I brought it myself from Juarez," said Tom. "It ain't gin. If you don't -want it, pass it up. I can use it." - -Flo said bravely, "Well, I'll try it. I need something new to get -cheered up. I don't care what it is. If I get sick they'll have to let -me off the trip tomorrow." - -"Oh," said Gin, "I didn't say I didn't want it. Hand it over." - -They munched sandwiches and cake in silence. Gin tasted the drink and -silently admitted that she was wrong. It might not be tequila, but it -was something very strange. It had a chilling effect at first, and after -each swallow settled down in her stomach like a stubborn little lump of -lead before it seemed to melt and spread. The others finished the food -before she noticed: there were only three limp jelly sandwiches left. - -"You made them," said Flo, unkindly. "Eat 'em. I told you not to. Have -more coffee." - -"She don't want coffee," Tom interposed. "Give her the bottle." - -Flo said in a discouraged tone, "It's having no effect whatever. I -thought I could get happy tonight and forget my troubles, but I'm just -the same, only worse." - -"It always acts like that when you set out for a good one," said Wally. -"One night last year I started out for a three-day party and I kept -going all night and went to bed in the morning cold sober." - -"It's a strange life," Gin suddenly said. She hugged her knees and -rocked backward, staring at the sky. "People trying to make themselves -crazy with bottles of poison, when everything is all right as it is." - -"What's that?" Wally looked worried. - -"It's a strange life," she repeated. "Everything is peculiar. Don't you -think so? Really, don't you?" - -Flo sighed audibly. "Leave her alone; she's off again." - -"But it is," Gin persisted. A messianic zeal possessed her: she must -convey the message in her soul or die unappeased. The moon, the bushes, -the beautiful silent horses, all waited with an understanding patience -while she spoke to these scoffers. "It is," she said again. "Here I am -sitting by a fire out in the middle of Nature, wearing pants and -drinking tequila. I mean here I am, and ten years ago--five years ago--I -was living in cities and wearing skirts and now here I am. It's -wonderful." - -"That's all right," said Tom. "Of course it's wonderful." - -"It's so peculiar. Can't you see?" Her eyes filled with tears; her soul -filled with a passionate sensibility of life and all its lovely factors; -the moon, the fire, the horses.... She stretched out on the ground and -put her head on her arm, thinking it over. - -Tom rose to his feet, leaned over her, and pulled her gently by the arm. -"Come on, Gin. Come on back to town with me and we'll get some more -funny thoughts." - -She stumbled after him in the dark and let him untie the horse and help -her up to the saddle. They cantered most of the way home; as they swung -through the narrow streets at the edge of town she peered through the -windows, catching quick flashes of lit rooms with quiet women sewing, or -standing at stoves, or washing dishes. Suddenly she felt desolate and -lonely, envious of these people who had homes and dull quiet duties. - -Tom waved her in to the living-room while he led the horses to the -corral. "You wait there and think about life." - -She sat on his camp cot and reflected. It was a big bare room, with a -bearskin and a beaded vest on the wall for decoration. There was a table -with a Victrola and several bottles, and on the window-sill there were -stacks of the little fifteen-cent magazines with pictures on them of -bucking broncos and cheering cowboys in furry chaps. The last of the -West was here, in these dude-wranglers with their tall stories and their -horses. Now she was sad with a tender melancholy, and somewhat sleepy. -What were they all looking for here in the mountains? Why did they come? -She shook her head. - -"Now," said Tom in the doorway. "What's it all about?" He handed her a -glass. "You ought to feel better with this," he said. He sat down next -to her on the bed and put his arm around her. "What's eating you?" he -asked gently. "Tell me about it and you'll feel better." - -Her face buried in his shoulder, she answered, "Nothing. I feel sleepy. -I'm all right." - -"Sure nothing's the matter?" - -Again she shook her head. - -"Well," he said, "I think there is. You don't come around as much as you -used to. You've been running around with that funny crowd, the queer -ones." - -"Why, Tom!" With exaggerated indignation, she sat erect and stared at -him. - -"Sure you are. I saw you at the show the other night with Madden." - -"He's not queer," she protested. - -"He ain't? Then I don't know anything about queer ones. Take your -medicine there." - -An hour or so passed in jerks; quick lovely spaces of time with the -Victrola playing and short horrible periods that dragged on for years, -when she relapsed into stupidity and stared at the beaded vest and tried -not to talk about life. She saw Tom once in a while, as it were, looking -at her and grinning in a monotonous way: she leaned against his shoulder -in an unpleasant spell of dizziness, and it was there that Flo found her -when she came stamping in with Wally. She heard Flo's sharp voice. - -"Look at that! Did you ever? We'd better get a taxi." And in the car -that crept through the dark streets she sat up suddenly and said, "Well, -I seem to have done it instead of you." - -"You did," said Flo. "Lie down." - -"I'm all right." She sat up and tried to put off her remorse until next -morning. "Where are the boys?" - -"I made them stay at the stable. It's too late for them to come out." - -"What time is it?" - -"Three o'clock, I think." - -The house was squat and ominous in the dark; the moon had long since -set. Gin crept to bed by the light of the reading-lamp; she felt somehow -that the bright light would outrage the hour. Her head felt very light. -It wouldn't next day. - -"Flo," she called across the room, after she had settled down. There was -something to talk over with Flo. What was it? Too much trouble.... - -"Oh, for heaven's sake! What is it?" - -"I'm perfectly sober," Gin said. There was no challenge and she -continued, "But just the same, life's peculiar." - - - - - CHAPTER FIVE - - -Mary and the camp-chair sank down together for two inches. Then the -chair squeaked and stopped giving in: it stayed where it was in space, -poised above the throng of Santo Domingo Indians and dusty crabby -tourists like a throne, disregarded on the pueblo roof. - -"Well," she continued, when she was sure the chair had come to rest, "I -do know that I'm at my wits' ends. I'm desperate." Casually, she drew a -handkerchief out of her raffia bag and folded it over her nose, against -the dust. - -Bob answered, "You wait until you've talked to Lucy Parker. Don't give -up hope at this stage. There's such good material in the boy; you -mustn't give up hope." He felt that he hadn't said quite enough, but he -was tired. Mary was exactly like a sack when she was in a crowd, he -thought a little furtively: limp and useless. Dragging Mary and a -camp-chair was very fatiguing. His eyes hurt in the sun but he fought -against the impulse to put on the sun-glasses in his vest pocket. Mary -looked so odd in hers. - -From the plaza beneath there came a confused roaring: a mixture of -singing and soft-beating drums where the Indians were dancing to the -music of the chorus, heavily overlaid and swamped by a loud conversation -going on between people squatting before the house. Bob craned his neck -to see over the heads of the Indians who blocked the view. He was trying -to find Teddy. - -"It's Blake's fault," said Mary, understanding him. "He's always running -off like that: this time he's taken Teddy with him. It's very rude of -him. I must speak to him again." She readjusted the handkerchief and -settled the glasses on her nose. "This dust. I think he's a schizoid -personality, don't you? I spoke to Brill about him. If I sell that -Patterson property perhaps I might have him analyzed. But he seems so -prejudiced against it, and I don't want to force the child. What do you -think?" - -"Brill? Analysis is a wonderful thing. Yes, that might help." He broke -off and waved violently. "There's Lucy now. Lucy! Confound these drums. -There, she's coming over." He settled back in relief. He was never at -his best with a surrounding audience of less than three or four. He -loved people and more people; the more the better. There was no limit to -his capacity for company; if he should ever have to live completely -alone he would go mad. The frantic boredom that had possessed him with -Mary grew more peaceful; slowly and completely died as he watched Lucy -pushing a way toward the ladder that leant against their roof. She was -followed by her daughter Phyllis and her daughter Phyllis' friend Janie -Peabody. Good! Soon there would be activity and noise on the roof around -him, and other people would look up to the chattering crowd and say to -each other, "That's Bob Stuart." - -The three women climbed the ladder carefully, with upheld skirts and -cautious feeling of the toes. - -"Ah-h-h, Lucy," said Bob lovingly, lending a hand at the last rung. -"Phyllis. Miss Peabody. Lucy darling, we were just talking about you. -You are to tell Mrs. Lennard everything you know about the California -school. She wants to find a school for Blake--you know, Blake." - -"My school?" Lucy sat down cross-legged on the roof and lit a cigarette. -"Certainly. Tell me if you want it and I'll write you a letter tonight. -I should think it would be just the thing for you. Phyllis was such a -problem before I sent her there. They always are difficult at a certain -age, don't you think?" She turned and flicked an ash at Phyllis, who -ignored her by chatting with Janie. - -The singing fell to an abrupt end and in the silence shuffling feet were -heard. Over an array of backs, fidgeting sweaty backs, they saw green -branches jogging, being carried out of the plaza. A fluttering wisp of -red shirt moved in the same direction, seen in little jerks as it passed -between two fat ladies in khaki hats. - -"Oh," cried Mary, "it's over, isn't it? I haven't really seen anything -of it." - -"No, no," Bob said soothingly. "They start again in a minute. What was -all that at your school about psychoanalysis, Lucy? Tell her about it." - -"Won't she be bored? I always forget the other people may want to watch -the dance. It seems impossible that anyone here could be seeing it for -the first time. How many times have we seen it, Bob?" - -"Oh, I couldn't say. It's nothing to what it used to be. I remember a -dance at Jemez that I stumbled on by sheer accident. It was in the old -days when I was collecting. I was taking a trip to San Ysidro to get a -blanket--you could still pick up good things in those days. I was -driving with poor old Gertrude and we suddenly turned into the village -and there it was. Very shocking." - -Lucy leaned forward and ground out her cigarette against a stone. The -sun was paling as if the air had grown suddenly thick. Behind a high -yellow sandy cone back of the town, a black cloud peeped. - -"Tell us about it," said Lucy. Down in the plaza the singing swelled -triumphantly. - -"I couldn't really. They were having something ceremonial and private--I -don't know just what. There were baskets of fruit and plates of food; -the men made obscene gestures with the bananas. Fertility and all that, -I suppose. Gertrude was as white as a sheet; she screamed and drove away -as fast as she could, but they didn't pay any attention to us. I was -helpless with laughter. You can imagine Gertrude." - -"It's a wonderful story," said Lucy. "I should have heard it before. -Gertrude never mentioned it to me, but naturally she wouldn't. Well, -Mrs. Lennard...." - -The singing stopped again. - -"Now is it over?" - -"No, that's just the end of the first clan's turn. There'll be a lot -more before they call it a day.... It's a small school; only a hundred -or so, and they have a staff psychoanalyst and all the masters really -make a specialty of _understanding_ the students. Very modern, of -course--you must see the art work. It's coeducational but not in any -silly communist way. I mean it's individual. Do you understand what I'm -trying to say?" - -"I think so. It's very interesting to me, because Blake is such a -special case...." - -Lucy nodded deeply. "It's a school for special cases; that's the real -idea that's behind it all. The woman who founded it is wonderful. I'll -give you a letter for her. Oh, look, there's Teddy. Teddy!" She -scrambled up and stood on tiptoe, waving. "Of course he'll never be able -to hear me with all this noise." The singers were chanting in a high -falsetto. - -"He's too busy with the courier, mother," said Phyllis. "He can't hear -you over all those people. Well, my dear, he was quite angry with me. -Have you ever seen him really angry?" - -"Never," said Janie. - -"I was almost frightened," said Phyllis. "Of course I don't really care -what he thinks of me, but it was unpleasant for a few minutes. Tell me -what you heard about him in New York." - -"Oh, it wasn't anything definite. They talk so in New York, I think. -They always say the same thing. I just heard that he gives terribly -amusing parties, my dear, with all of that crowd. And no one is quite -sure about him because he's seen with people like that all the time: of -course no one thinks anything of it any more, and I do think that if a -person is amusing I don't think a person's private life ought to have -anything to do with it, but what I heard was." - -"This atmosphere is simply marvelous for young people," Lucy was telling -Mary. "The combination of healthy outdoor life and the peculiar feeling -one gets out here of history--the Spaniards, and the Western pioneers, -and all that. And the wonderful Indian culture. They imbibe something. -Everybody here is so unusually appreciative, haven't you found it so?" - -"The only flaw is that we're getting to be so famous," Bob added. "It's -ruining the place. I wish the authorities would pass a law prohibiting -all these buses and trippers and outsiders. Nothing kills a place as -much as the outsiders." - -"I feel the same way," said Lucy. "I'm afraid I'm really snobbish about -all those visitors. What can they get out of it?" - -Jane was saying, "But I'm just going to hold out with what I have until -I get back East. You can't tell what people are going to be wearing this -fall until you look around. It doesn't matter so much here, but...." - -"Do you see Blake anywhere, Bob?" said Mary. - -"Don't worry, he'll turn up at the car. He doesn't seem to be with -Madden just now." - -The crowd was growing sparse. Over the hill beyond the houses cars were -leaving in streams, each one silhouetted against the green sky before it -crossed the mound and disappeared. As the day faded the land grew wider, -more desolate. Under the threatening rain-heavy sky it looked parched -and ferocious. Irritated squawks of automobile horns mingled with the -thrumming singing voices in the plaza. - -Lucy looked down at the people who were hurrying to the cars. "There's -Isobel. How very badly she dresses. Have you heard what they're saying -about her engagement? Gwen was telling me...." - -"Mother says I can go in August if I insist," said Phyllis. "I'm not -sure I want to go at all: it's a very dull season, I believe." - -"Oh, you _lucky_." - -Now there were such a few people left that Blake was in sight, leaning -against a ladder at the far corner of the plaza and gazing ahead of him -in a bemused way. The dancers were filing out, going in a listless -straggling line to the kiva beyond a row of irregularly outlined houses -on the other side. The sun was setting behind the clouds and in a few -minutes the prayer for rain would be answered. A fresh damp wind was -blowing down upon the village. - -Green branches and dry rattles carried by the koshare. They walked -slowly, now that their work was done, towards the kiva. Beyond the -houses they came into sight again, climbing the hard white steps to the -roof, pausing against that green sky as they started down the ladder -into the round little house. Red shirts and blue shirts followed with -the drums, and a low singing went with them. - -"But as Gwen says," Lucy finished, "there are times when Isobel is so -vague that God knows what really did happen. _She'll_ never tell the -real story." - -Mary stood up and put her glasses back into her bag. - -"I'll never forget it," she said. "A most beautiful picture. Absolutely -inspiring." - - - - - CHAPTER SIX - - -Again evening had overtaken Santa Fé before anything happened. Every -morning Blake woke with a furious desire to get out of the house and -down to town, so that he would not miss anything. He never knew what it -was that he expected, and day after day developed into the same -uneventful solar round. Nevertheless every morning brought with it a -tense expectation, a silent waiting. - -Tonight he wondered fretfully why the fever was not allayed. It had been -a full day, exciting and tiring. The whole town was tired. The drums -were still beating in his ears: when he closed his eyes he tried to see -the rows of stamping people and the waving branches: but instead he kept -thinking of the crowds that filled the village _plaza_; old ladies in -felt hats sitting on the roofs, their fat legs dangling over, their fat -hands waving to other old ladies on the opposite roofs.... - -"Missing so much and so much," he murmured, and felt a little revenged. - -And the keen young people so greatly to be envied, who knew -everything--hatless, collar-less, sparsely bearded young men with folded -arms and languid looks; wispy, eager young women; officious, anxious, -sweating couriers in jangling silver. And the broad khaki backs of the -motor tourists. Around and between them the frantic, shocking, stunning -leaps of the ghost-men appearing through the gaps. The drumming in his -ears; he was shaken and irritated and cheated: he wanted to cry. - -"But our lot crawls between dry ribs to keep its metaphysics warm." Did -that have anything to do with it? "Always the appropriate thing." In a -gust of fury he kicked a pebble far up the pavement, spinning and -skipping. - -The waiting was not satisfied. Perhaps he was not, after all, the only -one to feel that way. The plaza, dark in the centre but lighted around -the sidewalk, was full of people looking for something. It was a small -plaza, insufficient for so many prowling people, walking round and -round. - -In the shadows of the north side he found Madden, lounging on a bench -and more or less waiting for him. - -"We'll have to go to the cafe," he said, as Blake came up. "Everything -else is jammed. I'm not hungry, are you?" - -"No. I ate dust all day. Did you smell that jerked meat?" - -"Oh, that. You'll get used to that." - -They crossed the plot of grass and elbowed through the procession on the -walk. The cafe was crowded too. Only half disappointed, they loitered at -the door, peering in at the restaurant until they drew a hail from -Harvey and Gin, who had a booth. - -"Come on over," Harvey said. "Plenty of room." Gin gathered her skirts -and edged to the wall invitingly. Blake glowered at her, representative -as she was of the whole jostling day. - -"I saw you there," she told him, "looking very fierce. I'm sorry. You -might have pitied me a little, and you didn't. I know you didn't: I see -it in your eye." She smiled teasingly and he felt a little mollified. - -Harvey moved his knife and fork to make room for Blue Plate Number -Three, and said, "What're you kids doing tonight? We're looking for -excitement. Come along? I've got the car." - -Teddy suggested the movies. Blake demurred; he tried to explain that he -had wasted far too many of his evenings in the movies, but the others -didn't understand. He couldn't tell them that the evenings would be rare -and strange and historical if they could only manage them properly. -Defeated, he followed them to the theatre and watched an ancient -railroad cinema. - -Oddly enough, it was Harvey who was tainted by his discontent. As they -straggled into the street afterwards he said: - -"It's always the same thing. Let's get out of the old town. Let's...." -he paused. - -"Let's go for a ride," Gin said. "There's nothing else." - -Certainly there was some surcease in going fast and having nothing to -do. Blake sat on the back of the seat, perched on the rolled-up top; the -wind was strong with a little bite to it, and he closed his ears and -tried to listen without seeing. It was almost perfect. The little lurch -his body gave for no apparent reason--that would be a curve in the road. -The roaring in his ears that came and went and came again--that must be -a canyon. The louder the hum of the car, and a slowing-down of wind that -was a hill, and there was a scent the wind that could not be anything -but pines growing on the mountain side. Now they turned off on a rough -road; he swayed and would have fallen if he had not opened his eyes. - -Madden saved him by grabbing his arm; they called to Harvey to go easy. - -"We're trying to find our way," Gin shouted over her shoulder. "We're -lost." - -"I know that already. Say, for Christ's sake...." Madden stopped and -seized the side of the car as a bump almost threw him out. Blake slid -down to the floor with a jerk, and the engine stopped of its own -fatigue. - -"Something's wrong," said Harvey. "Something certainly is wrong." He got -out and stooped down in front. "High centre. We'll have to dig out. I'm -glad I brought the shovel. Where are we anyway?" - -No one knew. It was late and getting cold: they huddled down in blankets -and decided to wait for the moon before trying to get out. - -"This is better than town, anyway," Gin said. - -Madden cried indignantly, "What do you mean, anyway? This is _great_. -Look at the stars." - -It was very quiet. Closing their eyes, they tried to stop shivering. -Harvey searched in the side-pockets and found a half bottle of corn, -which helped a little. In a sentimental voice, Gin began to sing: - -Once in the dear dead days beyond recall When on the world a mist began -to fall.... - -The others joined in, howling away in a canine ecstasy of grief. They -were silent afterwards, revelling in a misty regret. Then Madden began, - - Tu eres Lupita divina, - Como los rayos del sol. - -Blake hummed along with him, filling in the gaps in his memory with an -ambiguous gibberish. Harvey contributed, - - She'd a dark and roving eye, - And her hair hung down in ringlets, - A NICE girl, a DECENT girl (here his voice cracked) - But one of the rakish kind. - -Then they had "Lord Geoffrey Amherst," and in spite of many protests, -Gin sang doggedly to the end of "The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi." - -To the east there was a pale white glow in the sky, outlining the hills. -Blake saw a glimpse of the moon. He cried out his discovery, and the -heavy white ball lifted into the sky to the accompaniment of four fresh -young voices rising out of the valley, chanting, - -"God bless the bastard king of dear old England." - -They stirred themselves and began to dig in the sand. After a while they -freed the car and it seemed to work all right. Harvey backed it out and -retraced his wheel-tracks to the edge of the main road. - -"Now where?" - -"Anywhere," said Madden, waving grandly. "Out into the world." He -hoisted himself up to the back again: Gin followed suit in the front -seat, and the three balancing figures jogged and reeled as Harvey drove -on toward Taos. It was almost as light as day. They passed one other -machine: driving on in the path of the headlight glow they waved and -shrieked until a curve cut it off. Blake drummed with his heels on the -leather cushion in a burst of exhilaration. - -They left the main road and followed the way to Frijoles Canyon. The car -went slower, going through rivers with a cautious swoop and turning -corners on all four wheels. Long shadows lay across the silver-splashed -fields. It seemed impossible that all the light could be coming from the -moon, that was now only a little ball swimming in clouds up toward the -centre of the sky. Everything but the car was motionless and asleep. -Houses with blank dead eyes crouched by the road. No dogs ran out to -race with the wheels. - -Blake sank back into the corner of the seat. His head dropped: the -shadows blurred and the sound of the engine was more stupefying than -silence. He reached with stiff fingers for a blanket, curled up in it -and fell into a sort of sleep, his elbows braced against shock. In his -dream he was still in the car, riding steadily through the river at -school or across baked yellow plains, arguing with Dr. Miller. Sometimes -he jerked and waked up, glanced worriedly at Gin's head against the -cushion ahead of him, and closed his eyes again. The night was fading. - -The car stopped and he woke up completely. He sat up, blinking, and -stared at Madden, who was kneeling by the ditch and fishing in the water -with a hat. - -"What is it?" - -"We need water," Gin explained. Her bare knees were propped up over the -door, and she powdered her nose vigorously. "We couldn't find anything -to use for it. I hope that's not your hat?" - -"No," he assured her. "It's been kicking around in this car for a long -time, I think." - -Making no effort to climb out, he watched Harvey pour what water he -still had after crossing the road into the radiator. Sullen and -efficient, the other two climbed back and sat still. They all looked -drowsily at the sky. The moon had faded from silver to white: down on -the earth the glow had disappeared and there was no colour anywhere in -the rocks. Everything was black or white or grey. - -"Like a steel engraving," said Teddy, "but much more so." - -They were in a jumble of rock, chalky-white rock that was broken off in -great chunks and piled up into mountains. The ditch emptied into a river -that crossed the road farther down and crept off into a ravine of -thick-growing juniper, black in the thin light. - -Gin blurted, "It looks awful. I hate being in canyons." - -They agreed not to drive any more. Blake suggested climbing something. -They aimlessly picked out a hill and began to crawl up the side, leaving -the car somewhat askew in the road. It was easy to get half-way up; -there the climb grew steep and difficult. For a little while no one said -anything; they worked in deep silence, holding out their hands to help -each other whenever they could. When they climbed over the last boulder, -they were puffing. They walked to a ledge that faced the east and sat -down to wait for the sun, shivering in the wind. - -Gin sighed ponderously, lay down with her arm under her head, and went -to sleep. Harvey curled up next to her with his arm protectingly over -her head. He snored and rubbed his cheek softly against the rock. - -"I wonder what time it is," Teddy said to Blake. "I've never felt more -awake." - -They sat in silence for a time that felt like a century. Their legs hung -over the sharp edge of the flat hilltop. Blake kicked softly against the -rock and a fine powder sifted down. - -"This is swell," he said. - -"You bet." - -He looked at the cruel edges of the hills and the shadows between them, -sinking deeper and deeper in the clefts, and he thought, - -"I have only two months." He pushed the shadowy hills out of his mind -and thought of the train-ride East, the smell of rooms that had been -closed all summer with school books locked up inside, the first classes -with roll-calls and reading lists in mimeographed sheets. He felt a -little nauseated. - -"Mother says I've got to go to some school in September," he said aloud. -Before him were the hills again, and Teddy sitting next to him. - -"Oh, well," said Teddy, "start worrying in September. This is July." - -"That's only two months. I won't go, that's all. I won't." - -"Well, don't. Don't ever do anything you don't want to do. Look at me." - -"Yes, but you're different. No family." - -Teddy was silent a minute and then said, "That's so. It shouldn't make -any difference, though, if you really know what you want." - -"But I don't. Does anybody? Do you? I just know what I don't want. I'll -blow up if I go back to school." - -"Sure, I know what I want. I want...." he hesitated, chewing on a -pine-needle. "I want time to work in peace, and a chance to see new -places. I guess I want money. That would fix things. Then I could really -do everything I haven't time for." - -"What sort of places would you like to see? India?" - -"Yes, and some of Europe, and North Africa. I've always wanted to paint -in Algeria." - -Feeling guilty, Blake said, "Oh, I've been there. It's not so -wonderful." - -"You've been there?" said Teddy angrily. "Why, you lucky little fool." - -"But of course I've been there. Mother had to go for her health, and of -course...." - -Madden, oddly excited, shook his fist at the air. "Of course, of course, -of course. You people who say 'of course.'" - -Blake stared at him, mystified. For a cold moment he thought that -perhaps Madden hated him. Then everything seemed to calm down: Teddy -laughed and spit the pine-needle down between his dangling feet. - -"Come with me when I go away, then," he said, "and see if you can get a -kick out of that." - -"When?" Blake was eager. - -"Oh, I don't know. September's a good time. Call it September. We'll -drive somewhere." He shook his head and laughed again. "I'm getting -nutty. How can I dig myself out of this hole? Damned cesspool." He -closed his eyes against the black and white panorama and went to sleep. - -The sky was getting red. In a minute there would be a sunrise: Blake -tried to concentrate on it. People never saw the sunrise: people ought -to look oftener at sunrises. Even one a month would be better than none -at all. Some day he would change the system and live at night: he would -finish his day with a sunrise and then go to bed immediately. - -Like this. Was it going to be red-orange, or gold? The clouds across the -sky, on the other side, were beginning to flush near the sun. Where was -the sun? Everything was waiting for it. Somewhere a few miles farther -east there must be someone looking at it right now. All day there were -sunrises somewhere in the world. A few hours ago there had been one in -Algeria, and none of the people in the hotel there would have seen it. -There would be a few servants coming to work in white robes growing pink -in the red light. But here on this rock in New Mexico one person would -watch it. Blake Lennard Watches Sunrise. He pulled his feet up and lay -down facing east. - -Suddenly the sun was there, but the four huddled bodies on the high rock -did not move. - - - - - CHAPTER SEVEN - - -They all woke at once, perhaps because a bird screamed as it flew over -them. Teddy sat up so swiftly that he almost toppled off the edge. He -stared wildly about him, trying to remember. The other three propped -themselves up on their arms, with tousled hair, and faces marked by the -rock. It was as if they had been carried to another place while they -slept; this was a green country with another sun shining down on it, a -second cousin to their sun; small and high and cheerful. He had a -confused feeling that he must have been drunk. No one spoke: they were -all waiting. Then, as if she could not control herself any longer, Gin -giggled. - -"Gee, we look funny," she said, and broke the spell. "What time is it?" - -No one had a watch. They stood up, groaning and helping each other. One -by one, with grim sensible expressions, they disappeared behind a rocky -crag. They all used Harvey's little black comb, and slowly worked up -enough concerted impulse to climb down the hill. It was not so easy as -it had been to climb up. - -His shoes scuffed, his toes jammed into the ends of them, Teddy walked -blindly over the sand, leading the straggling procession. A luminous -exaltation possessed them all, shining from their faces, defying hunger -and sleepiness. He tried to put it into words in his mind, in a -hysterical stream of phrases.... "Companions of the night ... black wind -and the freedom of motion.... Away from the earth, here in fresh-born -sunlight, we are new again and shining. The true artist, the true man -lies down where he happens to be, like an animal, and sleeps as he -wishes...." He stumbled on a sandy hummock and felt a little dizzy. - -They climbed stiffly into the car. Gin was obsessed with chatter: she -talked of her hunger, her disordered clothes, her lame shoulder, in a -gay high voice that had nothing to do with what she was saying. Harvey -watched her sombrely and silently. Her hair hung loose around her -shoulders: she tried once to twist it up but it fell again: in the wind -it streamed out sideways when they started to move, and whipped back, -catching Harvey on the cheek. She was beautiful, Teddy thought. He said, - -"If you wouldn't turn out to be such a 'Saturday Evening Post' girl, I'd -paint you." - -"I will anyway," cried Blake. "I'll paint all of us. It will be a -frontispiece to 'Treasure Island' and we'll all be disgraced." - -"We are disgraced," she cried joyfully. "Paint us, paint us." She leaned -over the side as limply as she could, imitating a corpse. "Dead, dead, -dead," she murmured. A roadster full of staring tourists passed in the -other direction, and swerved as the driver turned for a last look. - -"Wheeee, it's late," said Teddy. "When do we eat? How far are we? Where -are we?" - -Suddenly Gin screamed and then sat still with her fist to her open -mouth. - -"What's the matter?" they all asked. - -"My job! I forgot. How could I?" - -"Ooo," said Blake. "And it's late." - -"How could I?" - -"I think it's charming," Madden answered. "It's darling of you. I love -to have people forget important things. It's good for your soul." - -She shook her head impatiently, her eyes wet. They were all subdued. - -"Take me to a phone," she said suddenly. "As soon as we get to town I'll -call the office." - -"Don't worry," said Harvey, "Flo probably had a brainstorm and called -them already. Is she in town today?" - -"I don't know. Well, never mind. Breakfast!" - -They came into town with a wild swoop. At the little cafe Gin rushed for -the telephone and found that Flo had committed the necessary perjury. -She returned radiant to her coffee and fried eggs. - -"I've been trying to do a poem all night, I think," Blake was telling -Teddy. "I dreamed the beginning of it and added a lot and it was very -good. Now I've forgotten most of it." He laughed. "There are just two -lines." - -Teddy ordered, "Let's have them." - -"They're silly. They don't mean anything." - -"Well, let's see." - -"Just this. - - "Your narrow eyes roaming desireless - Skim cruelly the arid desert sands. - -"There was a picture that went with it of a figure on a mountain top." - -"I'll draw it," said Madden. - -Harvey snuffled in scorn and looked side-wise at Blake. - -"I don't feel at all like going home," said Blake. "We ought to do -something else now." - -"Let's go to Taos," said Teddy. - -Gin cried out in alarm. "You do what you like, but take me home first. -I'm down for Lamy this afternoon. Are you trying to ruin me?" - -"I'm going to work," Harvey said decidedly. "Let's get going." - -They put Gin down first, while she tried feebly to tuck her hair up -before she ran into her house. From the depths of the house they heard -Flo, shrill and abusive, as they turned the car in the narrow street and -headed for the Lennards'. Blake fell silent and thoughtful as they drew -near home. - -"On second thought," he told Harvey, "it might be wise for me to walk -the last few steps. Mother may be excited. I hope she went to sleep." He -stepped lightly over the door and advanced bravely to the house: the car -turned discreetly and went toward town again. - -Harvey was grumpy on the way back. He dumped Teddy at the door of their -house and drove away again silently. Already the day seemed tired. -Languid and a little depressed, Madden unlocked the door, carried in the -warm bottle of milk, and lay down on his bed. - -His telephone rang late in the afternoon and woke him. Confused and -feeling guilty, he stumbled over to it and answered the call in a -cracked, sleepy voice. - -"Hello, Hello? Teddy Madden? Dear boy, where have you been? This is -Bob." - -"Oh, I was asleep. Just a minute----?" he lit a cigarette. "I say, am I -due up there tonight? I've lost track of time." - -He was, Bob assured him a little indignantly. Moreover, he was late for -tea. - -"I'll be right up," he said. He hung up the receiver and before doing -anything else, sat quietly in the half-dark, his head in his hands. - -"Gosh...." Waves of gloom had overtaken him at last; after being outrun -for a week they had caught him. Reasonless, they were; or at any rate he -had too many reasons to worry; none at all for this persistent -depression. Bills, conscience, perpetual hangover--he ran them over in -his mind, but there was no answering twinge as he called them out. It -was something else; something that followed every jag of happiness. It -was as much a part of this play town as the other, pleasant, excitement: -a gnawing whimpering nameless anxiety that was waiting for him whenever -he sat alone in the dark. It took gigantic effort to call the cab-stand. - -"Harv? Madden calling. Listen, Harv, send a car round right away, will -you? Here, of course. No, home. Oh, charge it." - -Harvey expostulated in a mechanical, hopeless manner. "I got to tighten -up on you, Madden. Listen to reason. Do you know what you owe here?... -All right, but if you wait ten minutes, I'll be home and run you up -myself. Oh, all right. I'll send Ben: he's turning into the yard now." - -"Thanks. Look, I'll pay right now." - -"You and who else?" asked his room-mate wearily. - -Turning into the Stuart driveway, however, he solved the problem. Bob -was standing on the porch superintending the parking of another car, and -strolled down to meet the taxi. - -"Got any change, Bob?" asked Madden: and the two bits were forthcoming. -He walked into the house with a virtuous feeling, into a small crowd of -people. Mrs. Saville-Sanders was perched on a window-seat, holding forth -to Mrs. Lyons and a strange woman in a hat. Mrs. Lennard was talking to -Phil Ray and stopped to smile at Teddy as he entered. Nothing wrong in -that quarter, then: Blake was all right. There were other people just -coming in; not very good friends of Bob, to judge by his attitude. Teddy -poured himself a drink and sat down by Mrs. Lyons, who patted his arm in -greeting. - -She was a nice old thing, he told himself again. She was one of the few -stands he took against public opinion. Most of the people in Santa Fé, -that is, the people he ran with, made fun of her. She was not quite -bright, they argued. It was always just a few minutes before they said -anything really serious that Teddy would protest, - -"Well, I like old Ruth." - -He really did. She was kindly, credulous and restful. She was generous. -She was maternal. If she was a little smug, the only difference between -her attitude and Mrs. Saville-Sanders', he said to himself, was that she -had less money to be smug about. The other thing was that she was a -native daughter and had a tangible husband. He was a popular artist who -took himself quite seriously and made a cottage-and-garden living by -executing big colourful murals of Indians wearing the wrong kind of -moccasins and shooting arrows at conventionalized mesas with all of the -shadows on the same side. - -Teddy would say, "Of course, Tommy's _work_--but I like old Ruth." - -Gwendolyn Saville-Sanders was busy getting people to do something about -Santa Fé. Gwendolyn, unlike old Ruth, had been coming out here for only -three years. Before the war did so many horrible things to it, she had -spent her leisure and a lot more in Fiesole: before she was told about -Fiesole it had been Switzerland. But Gwendolyn had begun to take up -America in a serious manner. She was a little behind other people in -doing it: many others had brought back treasures of Indian handicraft to -their Eastern homes before she had seen the writing on the wall and -hastened out to Art's new headquarters. Now that she had found it, -though, she was making the most of it. Gwendolyn was slow on the uptake, -but thorough. Her three years of discovery had been swift and ferocious: -already her collection of Navajo silver was the largest in America (not -counting the museums) and her Chimayo blankets were famous. As for the -tin candle-sconces, it was no less than wonderful, the number she had -salvaged in the short time she had had. - -No necessity here for Teddy to say, "Well, I don't care, I like old -Gwen." One liked Gwen as a matter of course. As soon as she left a room, -becomingly cheerful in farewell, one murmured, "Isn't she marvelous?" -or, "Isn't she perfectly grand?" The thing that counted in this matter -was that Gwendolyn should say after you yourself had left the room, - -"I like that Teddy. He's a nice boy." - -As yet she had not said it, at least Bob had not reported it. So Teddy -sat down next to Ruth Lyons and listened. - -She was steamed up about Fiesta. - -"I think that we need something for the last night, to raise the curtain -on the Ball," she was saying. "I think that a bazaar might be the thing, -or a play. Why don't you write a play, Teddy?" Her voice, terrifyingly -loud, rang out through the room and everyone turned to listen. That was -what she wanted. "Write a play," she insisted. "You bright young people! -You can do it. Write a play and I'll put it on in my garden." - -"Your wish is my command, old thing," he said. Bob walked over and swung -an arm around his shoulders, saying, - -"That's the right spirit, Teddy. We'll all help." - -Gwen smiled and changed her mind. "Or a vaudeville. A vaudeville would -be easier and we'd please more people. Ruth, you must tell Tommy to do -the sets--we'll get _all_ the artists to do the sets. And the Native -Element will be able to help. They're so histrionic. The Indians and the -Spaniards and all that. Is that settled? Good: I must go. Bob darling, -pick out a committee. I must go. Where did I put my bag? It's all -settled then; a play. No, a vaudeville. I _must_ go. Teddy, come to -lunch tomorrow. Good-night, Ruth. Goodbye, everybody, I must simply -fly." - -They all flew except Teddy and Philip and the stranger with the hat. -They were going to dine, Bob said, and then play bridge. The stranger -was a puzzled frightened woman from Austria who had come over to paint -Indians. She was going on to Japan to paint cherry-blossoms. The Indians -were an interlude between cherry-blossoms in Japan and chestnut blossoms -in Paris. Teddy remembered seeing some of her work in the Modern Wing of -the Museum; he had thought then for a few stormy moments that they had -no business being there, and now, looking at her, he was sure of it. She -was open-mouthed and passive under an onslaught of information. Bob -loved to give information about his country. - -In the dining-room they chatted thus: Bob shining with happiness. His -dour Mexican maid served the soup. - -"You have mountains too, of course," he said, and Miss Kolbenhayer -nodded. "But I always think that it is not the mere rocks and stones and -trees that make the mountains. Here we have something else to contend -with: the smouldering forces of the American Indian." - -Miss Kolbenhayer's soup-spoon stopped at the edge of her plate. "But -here they are quite tame, is it not so?" - -"Unfortunately they are, for the most part," he admitted. "It is the -mixed breed that is prone to strange outbursts. Things go on here ... -religious frenzies ... crimes of innocence.... I suppose no one had told -you of the Red River crime?" - -No one had. - -"Now, there's an instance." Bob gave up the soup proposition for the -evening. "A girl from the East with her newly married husband and a -guide went on a hunting north of here. They met a sheep-herder, a -Mexican. A mere boy; sixteen, I think. He came up to their camp-fire one -night. It is the law of the mountains: they gave him food. The next -morning he went on with them and they gave him a gun to carry. Now, he -had noticed the girl, and he wanted her." Bob bit ferociously into the -cracker and repeated, "Wanted her. So he shot the husband." He stared at -Miss Kolbenhayer. - -Flo twisted around and looked, "Hmmm. Shot the husband and the guide. -They died immediately." - -"Oh!" - -"Immediately. The girl ran seven miles to Red River, where she sobbed -out her story and fainted." Bob's round little face beamed with pride. -"The strangest thing is what the sheep-herder said at the trial. When -they asked him if he had anything to offer in defence he said that the -devil had entered his soul. In a way he was right, poor chap." - -Miss Kolbenhayer shuddered. "It's like your Chicago." - -"Oh, Chicago," said Bob in scorn. "That is a commercial city. The crimes -are commercial and stupid. Here we are faced with a mysterious people." - -He hesitated as Revelita changed the plates, and Teddy fell into a -revery that had to do with the mysterious people. In the old foolish -days when he had first come and had been overwhelmed by the place, he -had tried to plunge headlong into the native life of the town. There had -been dances in the little halls at the edge of the city: colourful but -stiff affairs with little skinny girls wearing pink ribbons in their -hair, dancing with swarthy little boys. He had eaten by preference in -the Mexican restaurants--not that there were many; the native -townspeople liked to eat at home--where he had tried to burn out his -guts, as he expressed it, with chile in various forms. Here and there he -met and danced with Revelita. - -Then came the new phase, when he began to go uptown to the big houses. -He had almost forgotten the queer triumphant feeling he had when -Revelita first appeared at his elbow at Bob's, wearing a white apron and -offering him a cocktail from a tray, eyes downcast, and lips composed. -Then the climax, a few nights later, when he was alone in Bob's house, -drawing upon his new pleasant intimacy by reading in the library while -Bob was out at Sanford's. The hurried step outside, the Spanish -recriminations, and Revelita's startled face when she found him in a -supposedly empty house; her face still twisted in anger and fear of her -father, who had beaten her after a quarrel, and driven her up to Bob's -strap in hand. Of course, something had to be done to quiet her. -Together, amused by the piquancy of it, they raided the liquor-chest. -Revelita was reckless, drunk, excited out of her usual reserve. Followed -the usual row of asterisks, he told himself. And then the next day she -appeared once more at his elbow in the white apron, eyes downcast, lips -composed. He still remembered the thrill of power that little incident -had given him. It was a wonderful town. - -"A mysterious people." Bob repeated as Revelita's stocky figure passed -out through the door. "Who knows what they are thinking?" - -They had coffee in the living-room before beginning to play. Teddy -looked around at the calm well-fed faces, the heavy blankets that -curtained the windows, the polished floor and all the big permanent -things that Stuart lived with, among which he had his leisurely thoughts -of people and poetry and music. - -Quietly, he stretched out his legs and settled back to sip the coffee. -For the first time that day, he was really happy. Safe. - - - - - CHAPTER EIGHT - - -"I think I'm going crazy," Flo remarked in a pleased tone. "I've thought -so several times lately and there's no possible doubt." - -"Huh?" said Gin. She turned a page of the new "Photoplay" and cried -suddenly, "_Look_ at this! I'll never speak to him again!" - -"Who?" - -"Clive Brook. Oh, dear, he's wearing the most godawful waistcoat. Look." - -"Tasty, I think. Pour me some tea, that's a good girl." - -"Why do you think you are going crazy? I want some more chocolate cake. -Where is that girl?" - -"She'll be here in a minute.... Because I keep forgetting things: today -I forgot to say anything to my people all the way back to Puye. I didn't -go to sleep exactly: I just forgot. I didn't tell them to turn their -tickets in to the office and Margaret was furious because she had to -call up all the rooms, and some of them weren't in their rooms and she -had to write dozens of notes." - -"Lazy old thing. It'll do her good. I get those vague streaks sometimes -myself." - -"Oh, _you_, it's always a hangover with you.... Who's that across the -street?" - -Gin stood up to see over the drapes. "It's that new fiancee of Bill -Trewarth's. She comes from Carolina or somewhere." - -"She looks cute. I wonder what it would be like to go visiting for a -whole summer just because you are somebody's fiancee." - -"I think it would feel very musty. You would be going to teas with his -mother most of the time and on Sunday if you were very good he'd take -you out to watch the polo." - -Flo powdered her nose and considered. "I think it would be nice," she -said. "No responsibility." - -"My God! You don't mean it.... Hey, you, I want another piece of cake. -You can't mean it. Did you ever hear them talking?" - -"Sure I have. Well, what _else_ is there to do?" - -"This, or something like this in some other place. Why not?" - -"But then what about men?" - -"Haven't you enough men, for heavens' sake? _Those_ dumb brutes." - -"No, I haven't, and neither have you. You know perfectly well I haven't: -there aren't enough to go round in this town." - -Gin admitted that there were not enough men. "But," she added, "it's a -law of nature in resort places. You can always go somewhere else if -that's all that's worrying you. The question is, what do you really -want?" - -"Oh," said Flo, passionately, "I want a lot. I want to be rich and -stupid like that little beast over there, and I want to be intelligent -and interesting and comfortable like lots of the people around, and I'd -very much like to be wicked and always wear black. The question is, what -am I going to get? I'm tired of this sort of thing. At this rate I'll -start looking for Life, and then I'll be a dirty little pushover like -Rita." - -"Why, Flo. Such language. You couldn't be anyway, you're not the type; -you're older than Rita. Anyway, she's not a dirty little pushover. She -just doesn't worry about things. She has a good time." - -"Really. I suppose you'd say I'd be better off if I _were_ the type?" - -"Good heavens," said Gin impatiently. "I'm not advising you. I feel like -a mess myself, lots of times. I hate Rita as much as you do, and you -know it. Even if I could act that way I wouldn't: I'm not sure I even -want to. But what can you do about it? The trouble with you is----" - -"Your cigarette went out," said Flo. "Yes, darling, what _is_ the -trouble with me?" - -"You're feeling your oats," said Gin. "It makes you expect too much of -the world, feeling your oats. You can't help thinking there must be -something to do about it. There isn't; because whatever you do about it, -it's not settled." - -"Where did you find all this out, Grandma?" - -"Well," said Gin. "I tried a lot of things and what I didn't try, -somebody else did. This town is full of people who try to do something -about it. Only the dumb ones have a good time at all. People who believe -they are being noble, like Rex and Ada living together. Just the idea -that they are being bad keeps them going: they won't have to do another -thing all their lives. They're living up to a principle." - -"But nobody cares." - -"Well, how do they know that? They're happy and they give us something -to tell the dudes about. I've got to go home. Where do you go tomorrow? -Have you looked at the chart?" - -"They haven't decided yet about Mesa Verde. If I do go, I won't have -enough clean shirts. How many could you lend me in an emergency?" - -"Only one. Don't let me catch you taking more. I may be sent somewhere -myself." - -They paid the bill, scrupulously dividing it, and walked home in -silence. As they turned in the gate Flo said, - -"Well, I'm going to do something. I'm going to get engaged." - -"Yes? Who to?" - -"I don't know. I probably haven't met him yet, but I'm going to get -engaged pretty soon. What's more, I'm going to get married." She threw -her hat into the closet. "To the next man I meet, if I can. There must -be something in it because so many people do it." - -"Well," Gin said, "it's a big risk, I think. But I guess it's your own -business." She thought about it for a long time while she rubbed cold -cream on her face, in the bathroom. "Are you going to get a man with a -mother, so you can visit her next summer?" she called through the open -door. - -"If I can," was the candid retort. Gin frowned into the mirror and began -to apply a waver to her hair. After a tense moment of arranging the lock -over the left temple she shouted, - -"Try to get a dude." - -"I've never yet had an unmarried man on the Detour," said Flo solemnly. - -"Well, then, a driver. Keep it in the family. There's always at least -one who has just had a divorce." There was no answer to this. She tried -again: "Write to the papers." - -"Oh, shut up. I'm serious, I tell you." - -"Well, you should be. It's no laughing matter. Can I borrow a -brassiere?" - -"No." - -"Oh, go on and get married. I think it's a swell idea. Name the first -one after me and I'll send it a rattle. Can I borrow a brassiere?" - -"There's one in the bottom drawer." - -"You'd better start buying a lot of brassieres," Gin called, after -inspecting the supply in the lower drawer. "Most of yours aren't the -right kind." - -"What do you mean?" - -"You'd better buy a lot because girls who get engaged always wear very -tight ones. Haven't you noticed? They never flop. They don't have to." - -"You're vulgar," said Flo. - -"No, really. It ought to be one of the first things into the hope -chest." - -There was a disgusted silence. She finished dressing, though one of her -stockings had a run and it took a long time to find another pair. She -felt jumpy, and it wasn't nearly seven, when Harvey was to call for her. -Swishing into the living room, she picked up a "Photoplay" and tried to -settle down, but she kept thinking of Flo. Flo was smoking and reading -and looking very determined. - -"You're all dressed up too," Gin said at last, trying to ignore the -chill in the room. She thought that she sounded much too bright and -conciliatory, but something had to be done. "What's on?" - -"Beetie wants me to come up and play bridge," Flo said. "I don't know -who else is going to be there--one is Russell somebody, the new real -estate man--but I didn't want to take chances on looking tacky." - -There now: things were more comfortable. Gin turned back to her magazine -in peace. Harvey was five minutes early, and in a jovial mood. The door -was open, but he rang the shrill bell and called, - -"Hello, hello!" - -When he saw Flo he calmed down a little; he never seemed to like her. -Gin was always nervous when they had to talk to each other; they both -acted too polite. Perhaps she shouldn't have told Flo so much about him. -Flo was a prude. Now she put on her coat and hurried him out as fast as -she could. - -"What's new?" asked Harvey. He turned off on the Vegas road and speeded -up. - -"Oh, nothing, I think they'll send me to Albuquerque tomorrow: that -means I'll stay down overnight to meet the morning trains. I hope it -won't be too hot to sleep." - -"Overnight? I hope you don't go. The Summerses are throwing a party -tomorrow night and told me to bring you." - -"Oh, I don't mind missing it. I get bored at those parties. The same old -jokes and the same old people getting tight. Now where are we going?" - -"Pecos," he said. "I feel like having a steak. Do you mind?" - -"Nope. Go ahead." - -Absorbed in speeding, he grew taciturn, but Gin didn't care. She sat -back and stared at the road, trying to stop watching for bumps. That was -the trouble with learning to drive; it ruined you as a passenger. With -an effort she looked away from the spot of light that the car was -pursuing, and stared at the side of the road. They were running by the -railroad track. In the daytime, riding in the big passenger buses, the -road was so familiar that she hated it, but now it was too dark to be -anything but a dangerous path that might at any minute lurch towards the -train tracks and carry them straight into the way of destruction. Once a -bus had driven out too far on a soft shoulder, and had toppled over. The -courier's leg was hurt and a passenger broke a rib. If a train had come -by.... She could hear a train chugging up the mountain. She half turned -and saw a far-off glow. The road curved and looped and swept towards the -track, and then away from it. The train was coming close ... closer ... -closer ... perhaps now, just before it reached them, they would drive -into its path. Harvey didn't care. He went on just as fast as before. - -A straining moment, then they were out of danger and the monster was -neck and neck with them, puffing, shrieking, grinding, giving her a -horrible close glimpse of its insides and an idea of what might have -happened. Harvey stepped on the gas and for a moment they stayed -together, then the train pulled ahead slowly, seemed to gather speed, -marched by dragging a long tail spotted with square windows, and swung -around a curve ahead to vanish forever. Only the smoke hung in the air -and mixed with the smell of gasoline and burning cedar. - -"What's the matter with you?" said Harvey. "You're pinching my arm." - -"Just playing," she said, and moved over to her own side of the car -again. - -They reached Pecos hungry and a little chilled. There was a roadhouse -nearby where people would stop for gas and, if they knew anything about -the country, for food. They ate a leisurely dinner, chatting with the -waitress and playing the two records that were not warped or -cracked--"The Big Rock Candy Mountain" and "Two Black Crows, Part III." -Driving home afterwards, Harvey went slower, surfeited with beefsteak. -He slowed up outside of Beetie's house, at Gin's suggestion, and they -peered through the windows to see if there was any possibility of -joining in. Beetie and Flo had their noses in their cards, and their -partners were two young men that Gin had never seen before. - -"Do you want to crash it?" asked Harvey. "It looks dead. I can't get -very thrilled about it myself. Let's go home and see what Madden's up -to." - -"Oh, he'll be up at Stuart's." - -"Maybe not. We'll look." - -There was no one in the little house, but a log was still burning in the -fireplace and Teddy had left dirty dishes on the table. A new unframed -picture was hanging on the wall. Gin examined it. There were two -mountains, one leaning over the other, and three adobe houses with red -chile hanging from the roofs, making bands of red. - -"Oh, did you hear about that?" said Harvey. "Mrs. Lennard is buying it -for a hundred dollars. At least I think that's the one. There are so -many like it, around here." - -"How marvelous for Teddy!" - -"Yeah, Madden owes about three times that much. I don't see why he -doesn't get a little sense and go to work. This new vaudeville business -will keep him going for another month if they pay him anything." - -"Well, they ought to," said Gin. "He'll probably work his head off -fixing it up." She kicked a coal farther into the fire and stood on the -hearth, musing. How did people keep going when they owed money that way? -It worried her to owe money. Once when she forgot the bill for kindling -they wouldn't send the next order and she had to find another coal -company until it was fixed up. It had been awfully embarrassing. Madden -just went on charging things and charging things. If she could go on -like that without worrying, she might enjoy things a lot more. It was -partly Flo's fault that she was that way: Flo was scared of getting into -debt: she actually kept money in the bank. - -"I couldn't ever be an artist," she said. "I'd be too worried all the -time." - -"Oh, he gets along." Harvey sat down on the camp cot nearest the fire; -the one with the Yeibichai design on the blanket. "Sit down and be -sociable." - -She sat next to him and he put one arm around her while he held on to -his pipe with the other hand, puffing steadily. - -"Slow place, isn't it?" he said. - -"I guess so. I don't mind much. I like the country." - -"Yeah, I do too. But you ought to see Colorado; it's got this skinned a -mile." - -"You come from Colorado, don't you?" - -He nodded. "Dad's there now. I've got an old horse that I broke in -myself; he's still up there." He took his arm away to light his pipe -again, then put it back and squeezed her under the arm with his hand. As -if he didn't notice.... "When I go back he always knows me. I taught him -to dance: I used to have ideas about taking him on the stage. He sure -was a pretty pony. Getting old now." - -She was drowsy from looking so long at the fire. There was nothing to -say anyway. Harvey had told all the stories that you tell people you've -just met; they knew each other too well to have any conversation. Unless -they talked about philosophy, and he didn't like to do that. He always -said she thought too much, probably because he didn't want to bother -about thinking. She yawned; he went on smoking. The room was getting -warm and pleasantly stuffy. - -When his pipe was finished he knocked it out on the edge of the -fireplace and put both arms around her. They kissed, and he hugged her -tighter and tighter and then, just as their lips separated, he tried to -make her lie down. - -"No," she said uneasily, and pushed him away. He stopped and she felt -ridiculously stiff and upright. She leaned forward with her elbows on -her knees. - -"What's the matter with you tonight?" he asked, not unreasonably. She -didn't say anything because she didn't want to explain this sensation of -wariness. Two or three times before she had spent the whole evening -lying with him on the couch, fondling more or less innocuously. She felt -now--she didn't say it even to herself, but she felt that it was time -for something more to happen. She had been brought up in the belief that -it was up to her, as the control element in the game, to keep a watchful -eye on developments and to manage when it came to necking. They started -it and did their best to let it run its own course. They deliberately -forgot what they were doing. And then if anything definite happened, -everybody knew they always felt sorry and wished it hadn't happened. So -it was up to her to remember. - -"Well?" said Harvey. - -"I don't feel like it," she said. - -"Sure you do. Come on." He pulled her down and she lay next to him rigid -and watchful. He kissed her again. - -"God, you're cold tonight." - -"Well, I told you." - -"Want a drink?" - -"No." - -He tried to make her open her lips. She was stubborn and in the struggle -they both laughed and she relented a little. In a stupid, urgent way he -made love to her while she waited passively and grew more and more -irritated. He was so easy to see through. Trying to make her forget, -trying to deny all her intelligence, trying to sneak. It was worse than -when he just sort of went to sleep and breathed hard and forgot anything -except that she was a body next to him to clutch and hold tight. She -suddenly jerked away from him and sat up, patting her hair. Her cheeks -burned because his whiskers had scratched them. - -"Aw, Gin!" He lay watching her for a minute, and then he too sat up, -with his necktie all crooked. She was angry and a little disgusted. - -"Damn you," he said. - -"Well, I told you. I told you." - -He didn't answer. Feeling miserable and guilty, she walked over to her -coat and rummaged in the pocket for a comb. She primped and patted -herself with defiant jerky movements, and wished that he would speak. He -didn't. It swept over her that she didn't really know him at all. She -didn't really know anyone. She was alone in Santa Fé, in the universe. -Everybody else was hostile and stupid and silent. - -"I'm going home," she said at last. - -"I think I'd better not see you any more," he answered, as if that were -an answer. - -"All right, if you think so," she said coldly. "It's up to you." It -would be dull, not having him around to take her to parties. - -"No, it's up to you." - -"Well, then, why shouldn't we see each other? I'm not mad." - -"That isn't it," he said. "We've got to do something about it." - -"About what?" - -"Don't be dumb." He seemed to feel more cheerful now. He was filling his -pipe again, but was still sulky. - -"Well, we aren't ever going to do anything about it, then," she said -decidedly. - -He shrugged his shoulders. "Good-bye, then, I guess you can get home all -right." - -"Good-bye," she said. In a rush of remorse, she paused at the door. -"Honestly, is that the way you feel about it?" she asked. "Didn't you -ever just like me?" - -"Well, Jesus Christ, Gin," he cried. "You're a girl. How did you expect -me to feel?" - -"I don't know," she said miserably. "I thought maybe it wasn't bad, just -playing around. Can't I ever have any friends unless I sleep with them? -You pretended to like me." - -"I can't see it that way. You see," he said carefully, "I've got plenty -of _friends_. Fellows. I wanted a girl. It's too much trouble, having a -girl for a friend. That isn't what a girl is for. I mean, why take the -trouble?" - -"Oh," she said. She hesitated, looking out the open door at the road. -"Well, then...." she paused. He said nothing. "Well, then. I didn't know -that was how you felt." - -"Everybody feels that way, I should think," he said. - -"Oh! I'm sorry. Well, then ... goodbye." - -"Good-bye," he said. He didn't even stand up. "Take care of yourself," -he added suddenly, and then he looked away for as long as the door was -still open. - -She walked as fast as she could, trying to start thinking about -something. She couldn't think. She was feeling numb and stupid. If she -started to think there would be too much in her mind. But something must -be done. Something would have to happen in a minute. She almost ran down -the street, away from the house. Her own fault for going out with him at -all. She should never have gone out with him or with anybody unless she -was going to sleep with them ultimately. Letting them take her to -dinner, fooling them and riding around in their cars just on the -strength of a false promise. That was the way they all felt.... Wasn't -there anyone who just liked her? Was there anyone who felt the way she -did, just going along without making plans about getting things from -other people? Just talking and letting things happen? She stumbled on a -rock in the road, and kicked it furiously aside. Crossing a bridge at -the aqueduct, she stopped for breath, and felt tears on her cheeks. She -must have been making a noise all the way along the road. How horrible. -Everything. How shameful. As soon as he saw it was no use he didn't even -take her home. Well, if that was nature.... But what a lonely world. -_Everybody_.... Perhaps even old Mr. Dunstan. After this it wouldn't be -right for Mr. Dunstan to buy her Coca Colas when she met him in the -plaza. - -A car ran across the bridge and almost grazed her; its driver did not -see her in the dark. It was very late. She blew her nose at last and it -was as if she blew all her thoughts, too, into the handkerchief. She -tiptoed into the house, but Flo was awake, propped up in her bed, with a -book and a Hershey bar. - -"What's the matter?" said Flo. "You've been crying. Or shouldn't I -notice?" - -"I'm sore at everybody," said Gin. She walked over to her bed and began -to take off her shoes. "No," she said suddenly. "I'm damned if I'll just -go to bed. Let's go out for a walk." - -"What? You're crazy. Tell me what's happened." - -"Oh, Harvey makes me so sick. Everybody makes me sick. He said I was -just good to sleep with." - -"Um. How does he know?" - -"Don't be an idiot. He says I'm not good for anything else." - -"Oh, never mind. I always did think he was pretty low." - -"But he's right, Flo. He's right." Her voice rose to a tragic squeak. -"That's what's so terrible. That's the way things are." - -Flo put down her book and looked benign. "How many times must I tell you -about these people? You overrate everybody. You haven't any -discrimination at all. The idea of letting a taxi-driver with the brains -of a peanut get you so excited. You're shaking all over. Why, he's just -one of those people. Good Lord, Gin.... I've half a mind to go with you -and walk it off." - -"Well, come on. Put something on over your pajamas. Nobody's going to -see you." - -Flo, surprisingly, acted on the suggestion. She pulled on a skirt and a -pair of sandals, then shrouded herself in a coat. "All right, kid," she -said. "Let's go. You look like Lady Macbeth." - -This was better. Flo was decent all right. It was thrilling, walking -through the empty streets. If anyone should stop them and see those -pajama-legs dragging! She giggled. They turned to the edge of town and -walked up to the top of a hill, making a dust that was invisible in the -dark but tickled their noses. At the top they stopped to puff and to -look back at the city. There were still some lights; the square of -lights that marked the penitentiary and the dimmed lamp posts on the -plaza. As they watched, even these went out and left only the moon and a -few sparks from the windows of the houses. Now that Gin's heart had -stopped beating so fast, she could smell the night smells. - -"Oh, well," she said, "to hell with Harvey." - -"Sure," said Flo. - - - - - CHAPTER NINE - - -Walking goes in two-four time, but riding either on horse or in an -automobile makes a rhythm like a waltz. For half an hour Blake had been -thinking up waltzes and trying to hum them against the waltz that his -mind seemed to prefer. Whenever he relaxed for the shortest space of -time he would hear again, like a stubborn gramophone far back between -his ears, - - It's three o'clock in the morning: - We've danced--th' whole night through.... - -and the tick of the left rear wheel of the car kept it up. - -Talking was useless; it was impossible to talk except at certain times -of the day. Just after breakfast, when they started out, everyone was -talkative for an hour. Then they fell silent until lunch, wherever that -might happen to be. Afterwards the four people were dead quiet until -they had stopped for the night, except for little interludes when -Gwendolyn Saville-Sanders would say, - -"Do look at that hill over there. Marvelous." - -Or Mary would call, "Blake, dear. Not quite so fast. You can never tell -who's coming around the curve." When Teddy was driving she didn't worry. -Only relatives are unsafe as chauffeurs. - -The left rear wheel ticked and Blake hummed waltzes and all the time the -road was leading them farther and farther from any place that he had -ever been. He felt great. He paid no attention to gas and oil and air. -Teddy took care of all that, with the jealous love of a childless woman -who has borrowed a nephew for the week. For Blake, stopping for gas and -oil was a rude interruption. He would be far off somewhere and suddenly -the car would stop in front of a dusty little red pump sitting in the -middle of the landscape, with a man in overalls shambling out of the -dusty little house behind it. Then Gwendolyn would order soda pop all -around, and mop her face. Or she would ask for the ladies' room in a -husky whisper that made Blake ashamed to go to his side of the little -house. - -In between the road was a broad highway, not good enough to let you -forget the driving. One pass through the mountains kept Mrs. -Saville-Sanders twittering for a long time, but most of the way was on -flat ground with the mountains on either side and a long way ahead. He -liked it better that way. They were not like California mountains. They -were flat on top, and not so blue. Some of them were red and the other -colour was a dull yellow. Once they met a man on horseback who was -dressed like a Mexican but looked darker. A Navajo? Probably. Later they -saw a flock of sheep, and Gwendolyn's ecstatic cry called their eyes to -the distant figure, herding them. Yes, it was a Navajo woman in full -skirt. They passed a collection of brown buildings with huts like -bee-hives scattered around them, and flaunting signs announcing that -this was a Navajo trading-post where one could buy real genuine Navajo -blankets and silver rings made right there on the premises. At this -place they all sniffed, and Teddy stepped on the gas. - -Towards Shiprock, the road turned bad. An hour of bumping and floating -in the air above the back seat brought from Mary a flat decision that -they would stay at Shiprock, if they ever got there. - -"The Navajo may be very picturesque," she said, "but we'll do something -dreadful to the car if we treat it like this. Don't the springs give way -sometimes? Oh, Teddy, didn't you see that bump? No, Blake, we'll stay at -Shiprock. Goodness knows what we'd find beyond it, anyway." She broke -off and clutched at her hat, bouncing miserably. - -Blake was in despair. He knew that it was no use to remonstrate: -especially as even Teddy seemed to agree. Teddy was never any good in a -free-for-all; he always took Mary's side. Blake didn't think of -criticizing him for it. Teddy was simply sometimes a baffling adult and -sometimes a companion. It was all in the way you caught him. He himself, -still dependent on adult decisions, accepted his bad luck without -question. - -They found Shiprock at evening, and left Mary and Gwendolyn in their -rooms while they strolled around the town, staring. It was thus they -came across the truck-driver who was willing to take passengers into the -country with him. He was chatting with the owner of one of the -trading-posts, and he asked them about the roads. - -"They were fine until we got here," Blake said, aggrieved. "Now the -trip's over. He"--with a nod at Teddy--"backed out." - -The truck-driver pushed his hat back. "He's got sense," he said. "You -don't want to go driving these roads if you don't know 'em. Where were -you aiming to go?" - -"Oh, around," said Teddy. "To see the country. We've got a couple of -women who want to stop, that's the trouble. They think it's just as good -right here." - -"They think they've had their trip," said Blake. "They want to rest here -a few days." - -"Well, say," said the driver. "Come on with me. I'll drop you off at -Clearwater, if you like, and you can catch the mail truck back on -Wednesday. There's plenty room in the car." - -"Where's Clearwater?" Blake asked eagerly. - -"Oh, it's fifty mile out. You'll get a sight of the country going up -there. I start at ten tomorrow morning soon as I get loaded. Take it or -leave it." - -They took it immediately, and hurried home to argue with the ladies. - -It was raining when they started, and McLean swore in a cheerful -mechanical manner. "We won't make any time worth bragging about," he -said. - -For a long time they drove down a mere path across flat country, but -when the road started to climb they entered a pine wood. It was lovely -in the rain; clear spaces were bright green and under the trees the -ground was brown and clean-looking. McLean said it was bear country. -They saw no bear, but sometimes a rabbit ran ahead of them, scurrying -from side to side of the road and just missing death when he achieved -the idea of diving into the underbrush. Now and then they slowed up to -let the tail end of a flock of sheep and goats go by, scrambling and -crowding and making silly noises and poisoning the air with their -stench. Sometimes a Navajo cantered past on horseback, raising his hand -in salute and for a moment skipping the steady beat of his whip on the -horses' flanks. - -The truck panted louder, hesitated, ploughed ahead on a momentary level -and groaned in a humming falsetto above the grind of the engine. - -"She's a bitch of a hill," said McLean. - -There was a view. Hills rolled out from the cliff below them, and -dropped away to a streaked valley that showed far off where it was not -raining; where a dry butte sat placidly in the golden light. The roof of -the truck dripped dismally. Down again with dragging brakes and slow -turns; Blake caught his breath at every blind corner, forgetting that -they would not meet any other cars. The other side of the mountains sent -them spinning off into a red country lined with severe rocky hills, and -for a long time they rode through the valley, following roads with what -seemed to him an utter disregard of direction. All the roads looked -alike: two parallel strips of bare soil through the rabbit-brush. But -Mac said that any wrong turning would take them, after painful windings, -to the door of an Indian house (hogan, he called it) and then they would -have to find the way back and start over. Crossing a narrow bit of clay -land that bordered a stream, the heavy truck slipped and slid down and -churned away helplessly. Mac swore and climbed out, pulling a shovel -after him. He beckoned to the boys and they all worked furiously, -carrying stones to pack down under the wheels. After an hour they backed -out and started on. - -Panting, his hands and knees covered with drying mud, his stomach -growling in hunger, Blake nevertheless felt glad of the accident. He had -met with disaster and overcome the elements. It was his country, as it -was the country of the dark men and the garrulous cheerful truck-driver. -This was the place he had come out West for. In these quiet wild valleys -he forgot even the search. Now, riding at dusk in a muddy truck, he -forgot the boy in Santa Fé ceaselessly looking for something. - -Clearwater was three buildings square and neat in the middle of a -clearing; built partly of trimmed stone and partly of logs. The -storehouse looked like a barracks; the trader's house was the same -except that there were lights in the windows and a big dog tied to the -door and a red-haired boy standing by him. He ran towards the truck, -crying, - -"Mac, Mac! Dad killed a rattlesnake in the henhouse. It almost bit Ma. -Who's with you?" When he saw strangers he grew quiet and stood -motionless. Mac threw him a bag. - -"Catch, Buddy. Where's your Dad?" - -They pushed open the screen door, passed the growling dog, and entered a -bare ugly room with sacks piled in the corners. Beyond this was a -living-room with stiff blue plush furniture, and a woman hurrying -through the other door to meet them. - -"Evening, Mac." She rubbed her hands down her flat hips and looked shyly -at the boys. - -"Evening, Mrs. Bush. Can you put the boys up for a couple of days? I -figured Warren would stop by Wednesday, so I brought 'em along." - -"That's right. Come in and eat; Jim'll be here in a minute. He's looking -up the store. Come on in; I was just dishing supper." - -They followed her to the next room, where an oil lamp burned on a spread -table. The rest of the room was shadowy, but Blake saw a radio against -one wall. Mac sat down and they joined him. The boy lurked in the -corner, studying them. When his father came in he darted behind him. -Bush was a tall blond man with a brown face, inflexible and -expressionless. He shook hands mutely with each of the boys when they -were introduced by Mac, and they each stood up. Mrs. Bush came in with a -tray of beef stew and canned peaches and mashed potatoes and they all -started to cat, silently. - -With the food and warmth, Blake began to overcome his first feeling of -strangeness. The little-boy fear of sleeping away from home was ebbing -and he thought that perhaps he was growing up at last. He even managed -to ask for a second helping of stew, but to join in the slowly -increasing conversation was an effort too much for him. Bush asked Mac -about the trip and was regaled with detailed saga of the accident in the -mud. Buddy ate fast and kept his round green eyes fixed on the -strangers. When the meal was over they stood up without ceremony and -went their various ways. Mrs. Bush began to clear the table, scolding -Buddy steadily in a low tone. The two men went outside to the other -building, and Teddy and Blake followed at a distance, trying to think of -something to do that would take them out of the way. It was almost dark -by this time: the shadows, that in the daytime looked like pools of ink -under the brush, had been diluted and spread and run together over the -sand, melting all the brush and the rocks in one dark blanket. They -turned together down the valley, walking swiftly on the rough road. - -Tramp, tramp, tramp, with a little skipping noise when one of them -kicked a pebble. The air was cool and dry and sweet. It grew darker. -They passed a tiny fire where two Indians sat on their heels and watched -a coffee pot. A long, happy, swinging cry sounded over across the -valley, down the mountain. It was dark. - -Out of the swelling joy in his breast, Blake cried, "We're out of the -States! We're in another world." - -Teddy answered with silence. Tramp, tramp, tramp. He loved Teddy and the -Navajos and the stars, the heavy yellow stars. For one pure moment -things stood still, just like that, and then he knew that it would be -one of those moments that would come back some day when there would be -least reason to remember. Some instant of time that was waiting for him -to catch him some day, perhaps in the middle of a city street in the -summer when the asphalt oozed and rose around his heels; out of nowhere, -a reasonless ecstasy that wrapped a valley at night, with the Navajos -singing, and Teddy. - -It hurt. If he could only cry, and spoil it. - -Then Teddy caught his breath and said, "Let's not go back to Santa Fé." -He felt it too, then. Of course; he had to feel it too. He repeated, -"Let's not go back. You mustn't go back to school and I mustn't go on -shaking cocktails for hostesses. We'll go to Mexico and get away from -everything. How about it?" - -Walking swiftly, Blake said, "All right. Yes." It was a perfect thought. -He felt no impulse to make plans. Leave it at that; then going will be -simple. - -"We can drive it easily," Teddy said. "We'll get a car that we can -depend on and it'll be simple. I don't care if we never come back, -either." He slowed up in his walk, wheeled, and started back to the -trading post as though their errand had been finished. Skipping to catch -up, Blake followed in step. Tramp, tramp, tramp. - -Mexico City, with broad white streets and narrow little slums. There -would be fights. He and Teddy would frequent the little cafes ... knives -flashing ... the room full of glowering peons allied against them.... He -leaped at the swarthy man with the knife who was striking Teddy in the -back. The knife felt sharp but not very painful as it reached his heart. -Madden was shaking his shoulder and saying, "Blake! My God, he's dying." -He stirred, smiled.... Blinking the wetness from his eyes, he blushed in -the darkness and shoved his hands into his pockets. Tramp, tramp. - -Another flash; sitting in the cheapest seats in the Mexican theatre, -surrounded by grimy sweaty people, mustachioed men and mustachioed -women. They shouted as the dancer whirled out on the stage, stamping her -little red heals. But she looked straight at Teddy, and her eyes were -like Gin's, fixed on Teddy in the same mocking, hurt way. And Teddy -folded his arms and looked at her with his high little smile, the smile -that always made Blake hate him and love him too. The music played; her -little heels tapped the stage imperiously. She took the rose from her -bosom and tossed it.... - -But someone was singing; someone really was singing out there in the -dark, miles off across the rabbit-brush. Chanting, rising to a -hysterical falsetto and swooping down again to a minor note under the -one that began the song.... From the shadows back of the store-room -another man answered him, for all the world like a coyote. - - - - - CHAPTER TEN - - -Mac drove away and the store was open for business, with the boys -hanging about curiously, fingering the stock and getting into Bush's way -as he waited on customers. The big cool room was lined with shelves full -of folded overalls and canned goods and coloured handkerchiefs and -sheepskins and harness and cooking pots and candy. Three or four -Navajos, who had been lounging on the doorstep when the store was first -opened, now lounged on the hay-box and showed no signs either of buying -or of going away. When other Indians came in they greeted them, then -went on with the business of staring at the stock, or whittling little -pieces of wood. - -A short fat woman came in with a sack under her arm and two children -dragging at her skirt. She plumped the burlap down on the counter and -tugged at it until she had uncovered a blanket of a rough weave, which -she displayed to Bush's apathetic gaze. He picked up the blanket and -looked at it, then put it on the scales and weighed it. After a moment's -figuring he named a price, and by her silence she seemed to assent. -Blake, chewing cookies, watched her in fascination. - -Bush wrote down on a small paper bag, $6.20. Blake read it upside down. -The woman looked thoughtfully at the shelves and directed Bush, who put -down on the counter a small bag of flour and wrote the price on the bag. -After that she went into a deep silence, while the bystanders blinked at -the flies and Bush contemplated his toes, chewing gum. She ordered a can -of baking-powder and asked how much of the money was left. At the answer -she pondered suspiciously, but did not argue. Then she bought ten cents' -worth of candy, asked the reckoning again, and left the store with her -sack full of supplies, the children trotting at her heels. Bush wrote -the transaction down in a big black book and started to rearrange the -stock. - -Another Navajo rode up on a horse, driving two other horses ahead of -him. All three he tied to a post, where they shied at every wandering -breeze and kept their noses raised, straining at the ropes. Dusty and -cheerful, he strode in and ordered soda-pop and a box of crackers, -slamming his money down proudly. He swallowed half the soda at one pull, -with his eyes fixed on Blake. "Where you from?" he said. - -"Santa Fé," said Blake. - -"Yo-to. Good roads?" - -"Awful," said Blake. "Terrible from here to Shiprock." - -The Indian shook his head. "No, good roads. I came over them yesterday." - -"Sure they're good," said Bush. "They're all right, kid. You don't know -this country or you wouldn't be complaining about _those_ roads." - -"They have fine roads at Yo-to," said the Indian. "I was at Yo-to. I was -there seven years." - -"Where?" Teddy leaned across the counter. - -"Yo-to. Santa Fé, that is. I was in the penitentiary for seven years." -He seemed very cheerful about it. - -"What?" Blake said, in a gasp. - -"Yes. I was pretty mad then, but not any more. It is all right now." - -He put down the empty soda bottle and bit into a cracker, chatting with -his friends in Navajo. - -"Why did he go to jail?" Teddy asked Bush. - -"I dunno. It was before my time. Probably he helped burn a witch; they -always get seven years for that. One of you boys can ride over with me -to the well, if you want." - -Madden went, and Blake wandered around the house to the back porch, -where he was unwillingly drawn into conversation with Mrs. Bush. He had -felt awkward with her; she was so silent. But this morning she seemed -more talkative. He sat down on the step and listened vaguely, feeling -drowsy in the heat. He felt like brooding over the decoration he had -found on the wall of his room; a piece of burnt-leather with a picture -enameled on it of a ruddy desert mathematically arrayed beneath a -setting sun, rays outstretched in all directions. Underneath was a verse -burnt in big dancing letters, and he had memorized it: - - Welcome to Arizona - Where the beauteous cactus grows - And what was once the desert - Now is blooming like the rose. - -Teddy had been disgusted, horrified, and humourless about it, but there -was something---- - -"There's a lot of things we don't understand in this world," said Mrs. -Bush, and moved the pan in her lap to a more level position to catch the -potato-peelings. "I ain't saying that the Mormons are always right, -though. I'm not Mormon myself: Mr. Bush is. Anyway, I always think there -must be some reason for it all." - -"I guess so," said Blake. - -"When I was young," she continued, "I laughed at all that, myself. -Junior'll go through the same stage, most likely. But I've seen things." -She paused and selected another potato. "Mind you, it don't prove -anything. But it was queer. It was when I was a girl at home. Mamma and -Dad and me had gone to a camp-meeting." - -"Camp-meeting?" - -"Yes. Not here; I'm from the South originally. Arkansas. We drove over -to the meeting-grounds in a wagon and afterwards, coming back, we slept -out. It was my idea: I blame myself. It was low country and I should of -known better. Mom and Dad were getting along: they were too old to act -like that. - -"Well, we got back home all right and then we was all sick. Malaria, I -guess it was, or typhoid. I've always been as strong as a horse and in a -little while I was up and around. But Dad didn't pick up the way he -ought to and they took him to hospital. We thought Mom was all right. -She just slept all the time." She shook her head and remained silent a -moment. - -"I didn't worry about Mamma. I ought to of. But I didn't know any -better. We were all busy fretting over Dad. Then one night they said he -was better and I gave Mom her medicine and went to bed. She told me she -felt better too, on account of Dad. I went to bed. I don't excuse -myself. There must have been something I could of done. - -"Anyway when I woke up it was early morning and Mom was breathing real -loud. I called the doctor in a hurry and he came running and took one -look and sent her to hospital. He told me not to worry. He said it was a -little relapse. I said, 'Yes, but what makes Mamma look so queer?' What -it was, she was dying, and I didn't know." - -She looked at Blake with wet, horrified eyes, and he waited. - -"I went back to bed--I'll never forgive myself, but I wasn't in my right -senses yet. The fever kept coming back. I didn't sleep very well, I -_-will_ say that for myself. Even when I didn't know how bad it was I -was worried. I dreamed I was running up the steps of a big building, a -funny sort of building I hadn't ever noticed before, and it had big -pillars along the front. All the time I was running--I remember it as -plain as you are sitting here now----" - -And a lot plainer, Blake thought. - -"I kept thinking I must hold on to myself and try to expect something -nice that was waiting for me in the building. I can't quite say what it -was like. As if I was fooling myself in my dream and knew it. I kept -running and running and feeling worse." - -She picked up another potato, but held it in her hand without beginning -to peel it. - -"Then they woke me up and said it was morning and time to go to -hospital. I went over and hurried right up to her room. And there----" -she paused and stared at the henhouse. Then she started again. "There -was her bed and the mark of somebody, but she wasn't there. My legs just -gave out. I yelled, I guess, and a nurse came and _I_ said 'Where is -Mamma?' and the nurse said, 'Well, miss, we're crowded so we sent her -away.' I said, 'Where to?' Even then I didn't understand. She looked at -me queer and said, 'To the morgue.' - -"That's how I was told.... Well, I started out and I met my brother Tom, -and he said, 'Are you all right, Silvy?' - -"I said, 'Yes, I'm all right.' - -"He said--he's the sweetest thing in the world, Tom is, if he _is_ my -brother and I oughtn't to say it--'You sure you can walk?' - -"I said, 'Yes, I can walk. Where's the morgue?' - -"So we went over there together, and when I saw it----" - -"It was that building with the pillars?" asked Blake. - -"The very one," said Mrs. Bush. "And then Dad died too." - -She put her hands down among the potato peelings and thought about it -for a minute. - -"But it worries me, what she must think of me," she said. "If I had only -known she was dying. Dying, in front of my eyes, and me not doing -anything about it. I wish she'd let me tell her. Lots of times I feel -people I used to know around me, listening to me when I'm talking to -them. The way you do in your head. But I never have that feeling about -her. If she'd only let me tell her." - -Blake said, "Oh, she knows." - -"How do _you_ know?" cried Mrs. Bush, savagely. - - - - - CHAPTER ELEVEN - - -The screen-door slammed once, and Girt looked up hopefully, but decided -it was a breeze. She should have known better, for there had been no -breeze in Santa Fé for a week. But she was deep in the latest copy of -"Screenland" and could spare time only for the paper bag of chocolates -next to her. - -The door slammed three times, and Teddy called out indignantly, "Anybody -home?" - -"Teddy!" she squealed joyfully, and jumped up. "I was just wondering -when you'd come back. Come in and tell me about it. Where did you go and -what happened? You've got a swell sunburn." - -He stepped inside and kissed her perfunctorily. "I want some lemonade," -he said. "Have you got any? If you haven't I'm going down to the plaza, -and I wish you'd tell Blake when he comes----" - -"I can make some in a minute," she said. "Sit down and cool off. How did -you know I wasn't out of town?" - -"Passed by La Fonda and Margaret told me. Where are the cigarettes?" - -"On the mantel," she called from the kitchen, and began to chop ice -vigorously. "Now tell me about the Navajo country. What happened?" - -"Not much. Blake can tell you when he comes: I'm meeting him here. We -got home late last night--Mrs. Saville-Sanders wanted to stop overnight -in Albuquerque and they were having the Masonic Convention and all the -hotels were full. You should have seen her!" He giggled. "She stood up -and insisted on having rooms for all of us, and it didn't do the -slightest bit of good, naturally. So then she was crushed and wouldn't -speak for two hours on the way up, and we were all very tactful and -didn't say anything." She could hear him roaming about the room, -stopping here and there to pick things up and put them down again. When -she came back with a pitcher and glasses, he was staring disgustedly at -a small oil painting on the wall. - -"Why do you keep that kind of stuff around?" he asked. - -"It's Flo, and she said it's worth a lot of money. Here's your -lemonade." - -"Well, here's to luck." - -"Is there any left for me?" Blake came in and sat down, panting from the -heat. He held out his hand pleadingly for a glass. - -"Did you like it?" Gin asked him. "The Reservation, I mean." - -"It was grand," said Teddy. "We took a private jaunt into the country -and learned how to trade. We made plans to take out a license and start -a post of our own. Oh, but the really important plan...." - -"Look here," Blake interrupted, "you're _not_ going around talking about -that, are you?" - -"Gin's safe," Teddy argued. - -"She's not. Nobody's safe. Are you trying to ruin it? We promised we -weren't going to speak of it at all, to anyone. He's been in town four -hours," he added despairingly to Gin, "and everybody has heard all about -it!" - -"No, they haven't. I swear they haven't, Blake," Teddy said. "Don't get -all worked up. I just thought she'd be interested: she's perfectly safe, -honestly." - -"Go on, Blake," said Gin. "I won't tell. I never tell anything." - -Sulkily, he answered, "Well, it isn't very much. We're running away." - -She had a sudden pang of fear. "Running away? Where? When?" - -"We're not sure about anything: it's all very nebulous," Teddy -explained. "That's why we're not telling. It will probably be after -Fiesta, just before Blake has to go back to school. We're aiming for -Mexico, and of course Mrs. Lennard mustn't have any idea of it. You will -be careful, won't you?" - -"Certainly I will. But...." She hesitated, her mind struggling against -despair. "You make me sick. What'll I do without you?" - -"Come along," Teddy said easily. "The more the merrier." - -"Madden!" Blake was outraged again. "You don't really take it seriously -at all. I don't think you mean to come." - -She leaned forward eagerly. "But why can't I come? I'd be useful, really -I would. I'd do the cooking for you. I'll try to save up something -before we start. Please! Honest, Blake, I'm serious. I am. Couldn't I -come? Would it really spoil it all if I came?" - -"It's all right with _me_," said Teddy. "Why not, Blake?" - -"Because...." - -"Oh, you don't want me," she cried. "You _are_ afraid I'll spoil it. Let -me come. If it looks as if I'll spoil it, I'll take the next train back. -But let me try. _Please_. If you don't, I'll get up another expedition -by myself, and I'll probably be killed. Go on, Blake. Say yes." - -"Oh," he said, relenting, "I guess it doesn't make much difference if we -keep it down to three. You're not joking?" He searched her face -seriously, and she tried to look as intense as possible. "All right," he -decided, "we'll all go. But remember if anyone hears about it it's all -off." - -"I promise faithfully," she said. - -Teddy stood up and reached for his racket. "It's time we're shoving off. -Coming along, Gin? You can watch us play." - -"Not this trip. Don't you want another round of lemonade to pledge the -business?" - -"I'm full up," Blake said, and Teddy added, "Better not; we'll splash -when we play. Never mind." - -"Well then, we'll just shake on it." - -They clasped hands and she watched them from the side windows as they -drove away. After they were out of sight she stood there, staring at a -most uninteresting house across the street and thinking so deeply that -she didn't hear Flo come in. "What on earth are you looking at?" Flo -said in her ear, and she jumped. - -"Are you here already? It must be late." - -"No, I'm early. Oh, goody. Lemonade! You're an angel. Did anyone call -me?" - -"Call? Well, let's see if I can remember...." - -"You imbecile," Flo said pleasantly. "Did Russell call?" - -"Oh, Russell. Of course he did, constantly, all the time, perpetually. -_I_ wish you'd tell him to phone the office instead. I get all excited -when the phone rings, and it's always Russell for you." - -"Why not?" Flo went over to the mirror and started to comb her hair. -"Don't you like him?" - -"Oh, he's all right, I guess. Are you going to marry him?" - -"I don't know. What do you think about it?" She sat down on the couch -and put her arms around her knees. "I guess I could if I tried. He's -doing pretty well at the office. What do you think?" - -Gin said promptly, "Oh, marry him. You said you wanted to be married. I -don't know why, but you said so." - -"All right. I'll marry him." Flo laughed suddenly and picked up the -phone. "I'll tell him now." Just then it rang, and she picked up the -receiver. "Hello. Just a minute, I'll see." Covering the transmitter -with her hand, she whispered to Gin, "It's for you; it sounds like -Harvey. What'll I say?" - -"Let me talk to him.... Hello!" - -"Hello, Gin. Say, listen...." - -"How are you, Harvey?" - -"I'm all right. Listen, can't we talk this thing over? I miss you a lot. -Let's have dinner tonight." - -Suddenly, happily indifferent to all quarrels that had any connection -with Santa Fé, she answered, "All right. Come along at six-thirty." - -"Well," Flo cried, "When did all this happen?" - -"Just now." She handed the phone over. "Now call your Russell." She went -into the kitchen and started to clean up, throwing away the lemon-peels. -She sang loudly and happily, until her roommate called through the door -in protest. - - "Sing me a song of a lad that is gone: - Say, could that lad be I?..." - -On a sudden impulse, she shouted to Flo, "When you get married would you -want this apartment?" - -"Me? I'm not really getting married. Did you take me seriously?" - -"Oh, I don't know. I thought maybe you'd like to keep it." She emptied a -plate into the garbage pail, clattering it cheerfully. - -"Russell can't get married yet anyway: he hasn't enough money. Why do -you ask? Are you thinking of moving anywhere?" - -"Not at all," Gin said, and threw the dish-towel against its hook on the -wall. "Not in the _least_." - - - - - CHAPTER TWELVE - - -The car couldn't quite make the hill. Blake shifted gears carelessly, so -that they made a terrifying noise and his teeth hurt. Then he settled -down again behind the wheel and resumed his gloomy thoughts. The little -twists and turns in the road had become second nature to him and nothing -interfered with his meditations. He was occupied with a premature regret -for a beautiful day which was really just started. For him it was over. -He had hurried with his breakfast, very cheerful and making plans in his -mind to go right down to the plaza afterwards and see what was going on -in town. Probably there would be nothing, but at least he could spend a -pleasant morning talking to someone, lounging in front of the Capitol -Drug Store and having a Coca-Cola now and then. Besides, who knows? -Someone new and exciting might happen along. - -Then Mary spoiled it all. He could not blame her as much as he wished, -for after all it was simply another morning and she would have been sure -to act the same way some other day if she had postponed it this time. It -was just one of those conversations. And yet once again he was -overwhelmed with that sense of the world outside of him, expecting him -to rise up and act in some preposterous worthwhile manner. The world of -the adult was perilously close. He hated to be reminded of it. - -"Blake darling," she had said, "are you doing anything this morning?" -Harmless enough as far as it went. He answered without suspecting -anything. - -"Nothing special. Can I help you?" - -"If you would. I haven't anyone to send up to Sunmount with some flowers -I promised to Mrs. Meriwether, because Paul is busy over at the garage -overhauling the Packard, and I'll need it this afternoon. I did promise -Mrs. Meriwether, and the poor thing's so ill. Could you _possibly_----" - -"Certainly. I'll take them over now, if you like." He stood up and -pushed back his chair. - -"Wait a minute, dear. It isn't so important that it can't wait a little. -I've been waiting for a chance to talk to you." - -He hesitated, badly frightened at her tone. Something was going to -happen; something unpleasant. - -"It's about school." - -He sat down again slowly and hopelessly. "I knew it," he said. "What -about it?" - -"Well.... Here's a letter from the people in California. They're willing -to take you for the next year; isn't that nice?" - -"No, it isn't." He mused bitterly and added, "How do you know they're -willing? They haven't even seen me." - -"Well, I pointed out to them that there wasn't much time for -preparation. I explained about your last school----" - -"Did you have to?" he asked quickly. - -"Yes, darling. I was very fair to you, I think. I said that I understood -that they had a modern viewpoint, and I said I was sure they'd agree -that the preliminary meeting was a formality that wasn't really -important. I must say that they sound extremely reasonable. They seem to -agree to everything I say. In fact, I'm sure it will turn out very -well." - -He tried to answer her, but at his expression she laughed. "Oh, darling, -don't look so miserable! What a baby you are!" - -"Listen," he said desperately. "I've been talking about this place to -Phyllis and she says it's terrible." - -"Does she? I'm surprised at Phyllis. Her mother said that she was very -happy there." - -"She doesn't know how terrible it is: she's too dumb. But I could tell -from what she said. She says they understand the kids." He spoke in deep -loathing. - -"Well? Why do you object to that?" - -"Oh, what's the use?" he cried. - -"Blake! What do you propose to do with yourself if you don't go to -school? You can't go on like this." - -"Why not?" he asked, without any real hope. - -"Besides, when you grow up you won't be satisfied with yourself. You're -just a baby, really. I know you don't think of yourself that way, but -you are. An ignorant little child. I can't let you grow up without -learning any more, can I? How will you ever get into college?" - -He answered quickly, "But I keep telling you, I don't want to go to -college. I won't go." - -"You'll change your mind when the time comes," she said benevolently. - -He drew pictures on the tablecloth with a fork, and tried hard to think -of what he could say. He would feel his way. - -"Listen. Why can't I go away somewhere and have a private education? -Lots of people send their sons abroad with tutors. Couldn't you do that? -Why can't I go to a foreign country and study languages? If I studied a -language I would be learning something. Let me go to Europe or China -or----" - -"That wouldn't be possible. Not at your age." - -"What has my age got to do with it?" - -"Darling, I couldn't think of letting you go away alone." - -"But if someone should go with me?" - -She stood up and gathered her letters. "Let's not argue, dear. _I_ -wouldn't think of it. You're too young to be that far away from your -family; the Ashton boy got into a lot of trouble in Paris and I don't -want to see it happen to you. You won't understand: I can't expect you -to understand, but you must take my word for it. Hadn't you better get -the flowers and go to the sanatorium?" - -Now as he left the car in the shade of a cottonwood he reflected that it -was a good thing he hadn't told her about Mexico. He had almost said -something about it, but she had interrupted. At any rate--he rang the -bell at the white stuccoed gate--one thing was certain: he would run -away in spite of any objection that Teddy might raise at the last -minute. He trusted Teddy to come along if it should get too hot for them -in town, but he would need a little managing to crash through promptly. -Teddy or no Teddy, however, he must get out of all this or before he -knew it he would be on the train with all his text-books packed into the -baggage-car. He thought of the new school. A horrible place most likely, -with the walls as white as the gate here, whitewashed and lined with -dreadful grinning scientific instructors, all understanding him. -Understanding him! That was the limit. - -He held out the flowers to the assistant and gave the name of his -mother's friend. - -"She's a little better," the assistant said. "You may see her if you -care to." - -"No thanks. I--I'm too busy." He hurried out again and climbed into the -car. The place always made him nervous, and he could not even remember -which of his mother's sick friends was Mrs. Meriwether. He could not -face the idea of following a nurse down the corridor to find out. He was -afraid of the place; all the quiet little white rooms with windows -opening on the green patio. He had spent many hours here and there, -sitting on little straight-backed chairs while his mother visited -people. Which was Mrs. Meriwether? There was one woman who was thinner -every time they came: she always wore pink or blue voile bed-jackets and -her hands were skinny and very clean, with shining red fingernails. She -kept talking about her fingernails and her lotions and the doctors who -were in love with her. Some of the patients were in love with her too, -she said. Mary was always very gentle about her afterwards, and never -said much on the way home. - -Perhaps that was Mrs. Meriwether, or perhaps she was the other one, the -jolly one with red hair whose room always smelled sickeningly of ether. - -He looked around and found that he had driven all the way down town, and -he hadn't intended to take the car down. He started around the plaza, -meaning to go back. As he passed the Cathedral he heard an unfamiliar -voice calling; it sounded like his name. There it was again--"Blake! -Blake!" - -He stopped suddenly and the Oklahoma Ford that had been plodding along -behind him turned out so sharply that the fenders kissed and made a -ringing noise. - -"Damn fool!" called the driver from Oklahoma. Blake looked after him -nervously and then turned to see who had called. There was a line of -cars parked at the kerb, but he could see no one. Exasperated, he backed -and looked closely. - -"Blake! Here! It was me." A girl leaned from one of the autos, waving at -him. He brought the car up next to hers, but could not recognize her. It -was very confusing because she undoubtedly knew him very well. - -He tried to hide his hesitation. "Oh, hello," he said feebly. "I -couldn't see you. How have you been?" - -"I'm fine. Where were you going in such a hurry?" - -She must know him, but who was she? - -"Nowhere. Nowhere special. Would you like to come for a ride?" It was a -long shot, but there seemed to be nothing else to do. - -She obviously wanted to, but---- - -"Do you think I'd better?" She glanced over her shoulder at the church. -"I'm waiting for my mother and father. They are at mass. I didn't want -to go in and they told me to wait for them." - -"I'm sorry." He stepped on the starter, but she said quickly, - -"Just a minute. I think it will be all right, just a little ride. You -will get me back soon?" Without waiting for an answer she climbed over -the side of the battered door and stepped into his car next to him. This -activity exposed a good deal of black cotton stocking _(where_ had he -known her?) and she giggled and jerked her skirt down. - -"I don't know if we can go very far," he said doubtfully. "How long will -they be in there? Where should we drive?" - -"Let's go out to the Albuquerque road. I must be back in ten minutes. It -is safer there, because no one will see us." - -"Why shouldn't they see us?" he asked wonderingly. - -She laughed excitedly and glanced at him with black eyes that looked -like kitten's. Where on earth could they have known each other? There -was certainly something about her that seemed familiar, but who was she? -Had she ever been at the house? Perhaps she had, but if so when? And yet -he had a memory that her name was Maria. Certainly, that much he -knew--Maria. - -"I have not seen you for a long time," she told him. "I think it has -been a month." - -This was even more mystifying. He answered, "I know, I've been busy." - -"So have we," she said. "We have been very busy because Mr. Lyons has -started a beautiful big picture. I work very hard with him." - -Suddenly he knew. She was the little girl who posed for Tommy Lyons when -he did his Mexican murals. Maria Martinez: Mrs. Lyons was very fond of -her and treated her like a daughter. He'd been up at Lyons' one day with -Mary, trying to prevent her buying a picture from Tommy, and Maria had -been posing with a jar on her shoulder. That was all. He was glad that -he knew, though. - -"How is Teddy?" she was asking. "I never see him any more. I ask -Revelita why he is never at home, but she says nothing about him. I -cannot make her talk." - -"Revelita? Who is that?" - -"She works for Meester Stuart. You know--Revelita. Teddy was much in -love with her." - -"No, he wasn't," said Blake angrily. "You're crazy." - -Maria stuck her nose up in the air. "You ask him," she said. "Ask him -about Revelita and see how he looks." - -Slightly worried, Blake did not argue with her. He had an instinct about -it: if he stopped talking about it perhaps he could forget. Maria waited -for more conversation, and when it was not forthcoming she changed the -subject. - -"I see you with Teddy all the time. Every afternoon, nearly, you pass -the window when you go to play tennis. I am working every day now in the -afternoon. Mr. Lyons is very nice, I think. Mrs. Lyons too, she is a -nice lady. She says she will find work for me with the other artists -when it is time for them to go away in the fall." - -"That would be fine," Blake said absently. Teddy had never even -mentioned Revelita. - -"But my mother will not let me. Mr. Lyons she says is all right for me -to work for, but all the other artists are too young, she says. My -mother is very particular." - -She paused sadly, and he said, "That's too bad. That's a shame." - -"Yes, it is," she sighed. "I must go back to the convent in the fall, -she says." - -"You too? That's a shame." - -"It is silly. My mother thinks that the artists might want me to take -off my clothes. She has read about it. I do not want to go back to -school." - -"I know," he said eagerly. "I know just how you feel." - -"I could make so much money by my posing. It is not everyone who can -pose. Mrs. Lyons says so. She says I am a good type. What does she mean -by that? Does she mean that I am pretty? Blake, you are not listening." - -"I am too," he protested. "She means you're strange-looking: your eyes -are strange." - -"Oh, no! You mean--" her voice was hurt "you mean I am ugly. I know!" - -"No, no. You're pretty." He blurted it out, then blushed. - -"Oh. Well, my mother thinks that artists are bad and always make love to -models. It is not true. Mr. Lyons does not make love to me." - -"Of course he doesn't. People don't make love." He hit the railroad -tracks with a great bump, and slowed down. "I say, hasn't it been ten -minutes?" he asked, uneasily. He hoped that he could go back. - -"Not yet surely. Are you afraid? It is nothing to you, is it? Must you -go home?" - -"No, no." He speeded up again. It didn't matter: he couldn't ask Teddy -about it anyway. There must be some mistake. Revelita? No. It was a -mistake. - -"I think," she said, "that you tell all the girls that you meet that -they are pretty. Do you?" - -"Me? Of course not." - -"I think you do," she said. "I think we are driving too far. Let's stop -for a minute and then go back." - -"We ought to go back now," he said. - -"In a minute. I want to smoke." - -"I haven't any cigarettes," he said. "I don't smoke, I'm afraid." - -"You are a very nice little boy," said Maria. - -"Little? I'm older than you are." - -"I think not. I am fifteen." - -"I am sixteen," he said loftily. "I think it is time." - -"What do you do all day in Santa Fé?" she asked. "Do you play tennis?" - -"Most of the time, or ride. This is vacation. What else would I do?" - -She sighed and looked at the mountains. "It must be so nice, playing -tennis. Don't you have a girl? My brother has a girl. He told me. He -comes home so late at night that my father is always angry with him. It -is not fair. I must go to bed every night at ten. Sometimes I think it -is even better at the convent." - -"Are they very strict with you there?" asked Blake. - -Her exclamation was an indrawn breath. "It is terrible. It is a prison." - -"That must be awful." - -"It is terrible. My mother says that they must not know that I pose for -artists. I do not think it is bad, but she says they will think that the -artists always make love. That is silly: my father would kill anyone who -makes love to me. He says so. He would----" - -Suddenly, with no warning at all, she threw her arms around his neck -fervently and dropped her head onto his shoulder. - -Blake did not move noticeably, but his blood froze and his muscles -stiffened. He was petrified with shock. His mind registered a vague -scent of hair, black and rather oily. It tickled his cheek. He waited -for a long time, hoping that she would release him, but she did not even -relax. At last, his resistance broken by waiting, he shifted a little -and put an arm around her tentatively. He stopped again and waited to -see what it felt like. There was no change in his emotions: he simply -noticed that she felt very thin. What could he do? What should he do? He -thought of someone coming around the corner, and he grew more and more -afraid. - -"Oh, Blake," said Maria at last in a high voice, "we are being bad." She -lifted her head and he thought that her face looked very odd at close -view. She was waiting for something. Oh, yes. He struggled with the -conviction that she was waiting for him to kiss her. Would she let go? -He kissed her with a sudden little peck at her lips, and she let go. - -"You're going to be awfully late," he said. - -"Yes, we must go." - -He turned the car and started back, going as fast as he dared. He was -shaking, and so flustered that he almost ran into a tree. He wanted to -get home. He wanted to put her out as soon as possible and get home. Was -this what she meant about Revelita? Now he couldn't possibly ask Madden -anything about it: some day, perhaps---- - -"You're not very fast, are you?" she asked him, breaking the silence for -the first time. - -"Well, I could go faster, but I'm afraid of the traffic cop," he -explained. - -"That is not what I mean." - -A sudden scream rang out from the sidewalk, and Maria clutched his arm. -He pulled on the brake and looked over. - -"Maria!" someone was yelling, very stridently. There was a large crowd -on the pavement, made of children and a woman. No, there was a little -man too, standing behind the woman and pulling feebly at her dress. She -was making all the noise, and oddly enough she seemed to be angry at -him, at Blake. He blinked and looked at her again. - -As he stared, terrified, she came over to the car and jerked Maria out -by the arm. She shrieked at him in Spanish, then translated in a louder -tone than ever. - -"But Mamma...." said Maria, and was forced to stop while Mamma screamed. -"Mamma," she wailed at last, "it was all right! It was all right! It was -all right!" - -The little man approached and tried again to soothe Mamma. She swept him -aside and cried to Blake, - -"You have taken my little girl riding! She is only fifteen! I will tell -the police. I will have you put in jail. I will----" - -"It was all right, Mamma. I tell you we were gone only ten minutes. It -was all right." - -Maria turned to Blake and added softly, "Go away, quick!" - -"Her father will kill you," said Mamma loudly. "He will kill you." She -turned and seized the little man by the arm. - -Maria stamped her heel in the dust. "Go _away_," she repeated. - -Blake went. - - - - - CHAPTER THIRTEEN - - -The unexpected boon of a full afternoon holiday during Fiesta left Gin -somewhat embarrassed. She had nothing to do. The afternoon could have -been spent sleeping, for she had had little sleep the night before, what -with dancing in the streets around a bonfire; but she was too excited to -feel sleepy. Time for sleep when Santa Fé had stopped playing and the -town had taken off its costume and gaiety; plenty of time for sleep when -the carpenters would begin to tear down the platform in the corner of -the plaza, and the crepe paper ribbons would hang stretched and faded -from the trees. Now the platform was gay with flags and strewn with -confetti; last night had been a tango contest before the bonfire-dance, -and they were to use it again today for impromptu theatricals--Spanish -songs and Indian dances. All the shops were closed today; all the little -shopgirls, dressed in skimpy shawls and old family combs, filled the -streets to watch the parade. It was Pasatiempo, the day of the Pageant. - -Gin strolled through the streets where she could and paused where she -must. She watched the parade of the Conquerors; tried to listen to the -oration but had to give it up because of inadequate Spanish, and looked -on for a long time at the burlesque polo game that the young bloods were -playing with burros, spurring the unhappy little beasts towards a huge -striped beach ball and catching themselves up on the long mallets. -Afterwards she wandered towards the apartment, half planning to bring -out her own cherished shawl before the evening, when it was to be worn -at the Ball. She thought somewhat of dressing up now, to vie with the -others; she wanted to paint her lips and walk around the plaza, round -and round, while the boys walked the other way and picked out their -maidens for the evening. But she knew that she was tired of standing and -weary of the plaza. She would go riding alone and look down at Santa Fé -from a mountain top. - -She telephoned the stable. Tom was there, but, as he explained, he was -leaving to join the celebration. - -"I didn't count on no trade today," he explained. "I'm meeting a boy -down at the Capitol, but I'll tell you what we can do. I'll leave your -saddle in the hay-box in case you come around here: if not there'll be -no harm done. You catch yourself a horse. Take oats to 'em--Blanco or -the paint will come a-running for oats. Don't let the fence down; just -pick your pony." - -"Thanks, Tom," she said. "I'll be along." - -She changed quickly and walked over to the stable, avoiding the plaza -with its crowd. Blanco fell for the oats: she led him out and tied him -up while she went for the saddle. It was heavy: she had to rest twice -while she carried it back to him. She slung the saddle over his back, -cinched it up and then cinched it tighter as he let his breath out, and -adjusted the bridle. The street had a more than Sunday quiet as she rode -out toward Sunmount: everyone was downtown playing. - -Following the trail up Ferdinand, she raced with the shadow of a cloud. -There was a long smooth stretch that led up imperceptibly: she ran in -the shadow until Blanco looked warm, then she took it easy for a while. -The trail grew steeper and led through trees. She stopped to breathe the -horse, turning him and looking back. Already they were far up and Santa -Fé had begun to mark itself out in squares. She saw autos and trucks -hurrying towards the centre of town to be lost among the higher -buildings. Under the sun her face felt warm and salty; it was nice to be -up here alone. - -She pulled the rein: Blanco ducked obediently and started to climb -again, stepping carefully in the loose rock. She stopped at intervals -that grew shorter as Blanco breathed louder: the horse smell increased -and so did the balsam scent. She let the reins fall slack, twisted -around the horn of the saddle, while she tied her necktie around her -hair to keep it from falling down. The air grew more clear and Blanco's -footsteps sounded doggedly musical. It was lovely. - -At the really steep part of the ascent she paused and looked at her -watch. It was too late to go on: already she had been out an hour and -the sun was starting to fall. She knew that sun and how it gained -momentum. She dismounted and lay down on the grass, holding Blanco's -bridle and looking up at the sky. Long ago the cloud she had raced had -won and gone sailing away, but there were more. Their shadows crossed -her face and went on. Behind them the sky was a deep blue that had lost -its noon ferocity and mellowed. She stirred and rolled her head farther -back until Blanco's head appeared grotesquely in the way, calm and -cowlike as he munched grass. A dribble of green froth barely missed her -head. She rolled away. - -"You pig." - -Blanco stamped and leaned down for another mouthful, nosing her shoulder -out of his way. - -"You're a darling," she said idly and comfortably. "Aren't you an old -darling?" He blinked a huge eye and went on chewing. - -"We've got to go. Do you know that?" she asked. She stood up and looked -down at the valley for a moment. It was streaked with yellow; patches of -yellow flowers that were much more glaring now in the slanting light, -unbleached. The sun was deepening to orange: Santa Fé was almost too -small to be noticed except as part of a great scheme of colour. A breeze -stirred the pine-branches and lifted her hair-ribbon. It smelled almost -salty, as if those misty stretches beyond Jemez were indeed the sea. - -"Oh, it's lovely." She threw her arms around Blanco's neck: he was -nearer than any tree, and as unprotesting. She slapped him on the flank, -climbed up, and dug him in the ribs to start him down the slope, -jouncing uncomfortably. - -It was quite dark when she trotted into the stable yard. The streets -were quiet and lifeless. She tied up the horse and unsaddled him, then -turned him into the corral, where he shook himself and walked over to -the other side with a dignified, heavy gait. There was a light in the -living-room, so she stepped up to the screen door and peered in. Tom was -sitting on the cot with his head in his hands, and he didn't look up -when she knocked. Somewhat mystified, she called him and he raised his -head. - -"Come in," he said, as if he did not recognize her. - -It was very queer. Her clear sense of health and content evaporated. She -stepped in and glanced around, at the bottle on the table and the glass -on the floor next to his feet. Usually when Tom drank he grew jovial. -Was he sick? - -"Have a drink?" he said, dutifully. - -"Not now, thanks. Not just before dinner." Unbidden, she sat down in a -hide chair and watched him curiously. "Say, what's the matter with you? -Don't you feel well?" - -"Me? I'm all right." He leaned over and took the bottle by the neck. -"I'm all right. I just got some private news, bad news, that's all." - -"I'm sorry. Can I help?" - -He shook his head. "Somebody's dead." - -"Why? Do I know them?" - -"No." Holding the glass near the floor, he poured out most of the -contents of the bottle. "He was long before your time, Betty." - -"It's not Betty," she said. "It's Gin." - -"Gin? I beg your pardon. I surely beg your pardon." He added in a dull -tone, "Ginny, Wally's dead." - -"What?" Her hand went up to her mouth. "Wally? Wally's dead? You're -kidding me." He drooped his head again and she jumped up and shook his -arm. "Tom! Please answer me. Did you say that Wally was dead?" - -"Sure he's dead." He looked at her with red-shot eyes. "He was shot. -Them damned Indians in Mexico must a done it. Down at the border: he was -missing a couple of days and his horse came home without the saddle. -They went out looking and found a Yaqui with his outfit--saddle and gun -and all. They couldn't get anything out of him. He claimed he bought it. -Wally's dead all right, and buried." - -"God." Her eyes filled with tears, mechanical reactions. Inside her head -she did not feel ready for tears. She was only shocked and stunned; she -was inadequate. "I can't believe it," she said truthfully. "He can't be -dead. Why, I knew him!" - -"Why not? He had a good outfit and he was American." He slumped down to -the cot again and sat in an attitude of maudlin grief, almost -theatrical. "Three weeks ago, I gave him hell for leaving Pinto tied by -a rope in his mouth. He was always forgetful. I said I'd skin him alive -if he did it again while I was anywheres around. Now he's dead and -buried." - -Gin stood motionless, seeing Wally outlined in clay like the prehistoric -skeletons at the Museum. Fragments of coffin strewed the ground around -him and he lay stiff, with one arm above his head and his sunken eyes -closed and withered. She thought of his arms again. They were huge arms -that had often caught her as she jumped off her horse, they smelled of -horses and perspiration, and he was fond of a certain checked shirt that -he often wore. It was that same shirt that he was wearing now, buried in -the clay. No, he would not be wearing his shirt. The checked shirt was -in a Yaqui's bundle now, flung into the corner of a hut in Mexico, with -a bloody hole in it. Wally was naked and dead and buried. Buried. - -Tom had slipped down to the table; his head, clutched in his arms, was -sideways on the table and his eyes were closed. Asleep? She poured a -drink out for herself and swallowed it. She patted his head. - -"You go to sleep," she said. "I'm going home." - -It was only after she had walked three blocks that she began to know -Wally was dead; dead as everyone was dead that she read about in the -newspapers. It was not a new thing, after all. Wally was dead and Mother -was dead and Billy the Kid was dead. All of them, all dead and buried. -The weight of horror lifted a little and she began to think that she -would miss Wally. She could cry in earnest. - -She reached the apartment: the door was locked and she had forgotten the -key. Sobbing with increasing vigour, she lifted the screen from the -front window, raised the sash, and climbed in. She found the sofa in the -dark and lay down. - -Outside in the street an automobile passed, swishing by the wall. -Someone was carrying a Victrola in it and playing a record. She -remembered the Ball tonight and sat up, with her head throbbing. What -time was it? Had Harvey called before she got home? No, it couldn't be -that late. She leaped up and turned on the light. Eight o'clock, and the -room was in a mess of cigarette stubs and clothes flung over all the -chairs. Flo must have put on her costume in a hurry. - -The 'phone suddenly began to ring, and she picked it up. - -"Gin?" It was Harvey. "I've been calling for hours: they said at the -office you were in town all afternoon. Where've you been?" - -"Oh, I went riding." - -"Well, gosh, I thought you'd run out on me. Are you ready?" - -"Listen, Harvey, I can't go." She paused, then repeated, "I can't." - -"What? Why not? Are you sick? You sound sick. What----" - -"No, but something terrible has happened." - -"What is it?" - -"Wally's dead." - -"Who's dead?" - -"Wally, down at the stable." - -"Oh, that's a darned shame. That's too bad. What killed him?" - -"The Indians." - -"_What?_ Come off!" - -"No, the Mexican Indians. Yaquis or something. They shot him for his -horse and saddle, and he's dead." - -"That's certainly a darned shame. I don't think I ever knew him, -but----Well, why can't you come out tonight, anyway?" - -"Why, Harvey. I can't. Don't you see? I can't go." - -"No, I don't see." He sounded very irritated. "You mean because this -cowboy is dead? What's that got to do with you? Were you crazy about -this bird?" - -"No, but...." she hesitated. It was hard to express. "Don't you see, -he's dead and buried and all that. I can't go on a party. I knew him. I -used to go riding with him, and now he's----" - -"Say," he said flatly, "I don't see that at all. You're just worked up -over nothing. You're alone down there, aren't you?" - -"Ye-es." Her voice was uncertain. - -"Now I tell you what you'd better do. You wash your face and get ready -and I'll be right down, as soon as I get dressed. I've got to shave. Is -there anything to drink down there?" - -"I don't know." She spoke humbly. She was beginning to feel very foolish -and useless. - -"Well, you fix a drink and take it. That'll help you. You've just got -the blues, that's all. It's a shame he's dead, but you better take a -drink. I'll be back as soon as I can." - -He was very comforting, but she wished that he hadn't called just then. -She looked dolefully into the bathroom mirror, at her swollen streaked -face. Why did she always have to act so dramatic? She rubbed cold cream -into her cheeks and felt the tank. There was enough hot water for a -bath. - -Harvey came before she was ready and she shouted through the door that -he must come in and wait. When she came out, wrapped in a bathrobe, he -was standing at the window with his pipe in his mouth, looking -masculine. - -"I'm sorry I was so cuckoo," she murmured, sincerely. - -"That's all right. I brought something over." He waved towards the -couch, on which there were parcels--sandwiches and candy and a bunch of -red roses. - -"Oh, Harvey: you're a darling. I've been so nasty to you." - -She made him eat some chocolate and put a rose in his buttonhole. He was -not in costume, except that he had wrapped a red sash around his waist. - -"Now you make me feel that I'd better not get dressed up," she said. -"We'd look funny all different." - -"No, you go ahead. These affairs are given for the girls anyway. Go on: -I'll wait." - -She dressed in the kitchen--bouffant black skirt and purple fringed -shawl, with a high comb and a mantilla. He was pleased with her when she -came out. - -"You look swell," he said. "Regular Señorita. Give us a kiss." - -She held up her face. - -"That's the kid," he said. "Not sore at me any more?" - -"No, You've been awfully sweet." - -They drove over to the theatre and although it was half an hour late, -nothing had started. A crowd of costumed people were in the lobby. Gin -paused at the door and looked around for Flo. She was over in the corner -with Russell and a party of friends. - -"Wait a minute," she told Harvey. "I've got to talk to Flo." - -Holding her roses carefully, she wedged a way through the crowd to -Russell and plucked at her roommate's arm. - -Russell turned and greeted her. "Golly, who's your beau?" he asked. -"Flo, look at the flowers." - -Gin pulled Flo off a little way. "I've been dying to find you," she -said. What was it she had to tell? Then she remembered Wally. Even now, -soon as it was after the catastrophe, she was shamedly conscious of a -sort of pleasant anticipation, the prospect of causing a sensation with -her news, the expression that she could foresee on Flo's brightly -interested face. - -"I heard about something this afternoon," she went on. Again she was -swamped by the calamity and carried out of herself. The truth of it hit -her again, as it had on the road home. - -Dead and buried. She pictured to herself his closed eyes and the clay. - -She stopped smiling. The corners of her mouth dulled and her eyes grew -wide. - -"You know Wally...." - - - - - CHAPTER FOURTEEN - - -"Teddy! Teddy!" The call had sounded so often that to Teddy himself his -name had undergone that strange transformation where it had become a -senseless word, without end or meaning. He was sick of it. If he heard -it once more, he told himself, he would smash something--preferably the -stage scenery. One prop pulled out and there would be a splendid crash. - -But he had no time to waste, pulling props or contemplating ruin. He was -hurrying as fast as he could. He stacked a heap of gossamer costume on a -rickety chair, started off in answer to a plaintive cry, and then rushed -back just in time to keep the costume from tumbling down. "Teddy! Come -here a minute." There was no time to say "please," no time for anyone to -adopt the usual pretence that they were asking him and not ordering. He -put the costume down again, more firmly, and tore off in the direction -of the ladies' dressing-room. Mrs. Saville-Sanders wanted to be pinned -up. - -"Teddy!" That was Bob, at the other end of the stage. "I need some help -here." - -"Teddy! What in hell did you do with that foundation cream?" - -"Teddy! Come and fix my eyebrows. I look like a ruin. What's the -matter?" - -"Teddy Madden, come and tell me where to put this jar. You stand out -there and look. Do you think so? No, I'm sure you're wrong...." - -"Ted, Gwen Saville-Sanders wants you to fix the flower that goes in her -hair. Hurry up, for God's sake. She's on a rampage." - -He dashed into the dressing-room again and Phyllis Parker snatched up a -wrapper and screamed. Startled, he paused and glanced at her. Her legs -were long and bare beneath the wrapper: she clutched it to her flat -bosom like Diana surprised in the bath, and glared at him. - -"Oh, don't be such a damn fool!" he snarled, overwhelmed by the -imbecility of it. "D'you think I have _time_...." - -"Teddy! Teddee.. ee.. ee." A maliciously long-drawn wail that set his -teeth on edge. He was dripping with sweat and his face was smeared with -dust and plaster. For a quarter of an hour the audience had been -clapping spasmodically, now someone had started them off on a slow, -ominous, steady applause that beat on his ears terrifyingly. Well, what -if they did get tired and go home? Of course they wouldn't, but what if -they did? He would be glad. He wanted more than anything in the world to -go into a corner and sleep; if anyone called him he would show his teeth -like a rat. One more idiot yelling for him.... - -The stage director came in and held up his hand, spreading an area of -quiet through the crowd until it reached the outer corners. - -"Silence! Silence! please. Everyone _must_ be more quiet. I was out in -the back, the very back, and I could hear you all the way out there. -Please be more careful, even if you are excited. Now then, is everyone -ready? Are all the props in place? Madden, have you looked it all over? -All right then. I'm going to give the signal.... Curtain!" - -In the hush behind the scenes following the creaking of the curtain, -Teddy escaped and crept out into the audience through the side door. He -wiped his face and tried to relax, refusing to look about him, even at -the stage, until he should have regained his temper. The affair was well -under way when he allowed himself to look. - -Well, it seemed to be going without too much of a hitch. It was -impossible to follow it closely after so many rehearsals. Unless someone -made a new error, he wouldn't even notice the customary little slips -that they were so used to. He was fogged, worn out. His head drooped to -one side and he began to breathe with a dangerous regularity, then -caught himself up and straightened his back. The trouble was that he had -not had a drink all day. He had promised Mrs. Saville-Sanders to see to -it that no one was drunk at the opening of the Vaudeville, and in the -face of careful taboo, how could he have managed to take anything for -himself? No, it was better this way. But now it was safe: as soon as he -had a chance he'd get something. No one would be able to last through -the Ball without a little help. His head slumped down again. - -Through the uncomfortable doze he heard the long-drawn clapping that -meant the end of the first act. He sat up quickly as the lights went on. -They'd be needing him. He went back to the stage door, stopping with -Billy Trewartha, who was in charge of the curtain. - -"Got a drink?" he asked. It was an unnecessary question, since he had -stopped Billy twice from taking nips before the show started. Billy -harboured no grudge, however. He took a flask out and mounted guard -while Teddy did his best to repair his nerves. - -The second act was launched and he went back to his old seat. The -audience was taking it pretty well. Of course the people in front would -like it because it was a family affair, but these chaps didn't have to -applaud unless they meant it. The broad comedy went over much better -than the highbrow offerings. Natural enough, he reflected; it was really -much better. He craned his neck and took one glimpse of the front rows, -then sat back, satisfied with their carefully appreciative expressions. - -Next act started off awkwardly, some mix-up with the lights to begin -with, and a lot of frantic flashing--yellow and red and blue, each new -colour greeted with irreverent applause. The curtain went up before it -should have, too. Perhaps Billy had finished the flask too soon. Oh -well, it was not too bad. The light was fixed at last as it should be; a -single red beam at the corner of the stage. Then Phil Ray stepped into -it and walked slowly, or rather danced--for his step was controlled and -deliberate--to the centre. His arm was raised, covering his eyes, and he -crouched as he walked. In the centre of the stage he stopped, turned -slowly in a series of notes from the music, and paused again. The -playing was louder, working up to a crescendo. He dropped his arms, -stretched them down along his sides, then flung them back and stood with -his chest high, his ribs sharply serrated, his neck ridged with shadow -as his head fell back. The shaded half of his body looked purple in the -red light, shining from an angle. He was naked. - -There was a stir, a gathering disturbance in the audience. Suddenly the -rustling and whispering concentrated in the centre of the second row. In -the darkness Teddy thought he saw a great moving shadow. What could it -be? Someone was talking, forgetting to whisper. Someone was arguing. An -usher opened the door into the lobby and held it; someone was going out. -The electric light streamed in from the back, near Teddy, and -illuminated the majestic form of Mrs. Montgomery Pearson, walking out of -the door. She walked like a sacred elephant, and her jet necklace swung -back and forth across her armoured bosom. She moved slowly, with upheld -nose but downcast eyes, into the pure air of the outer night; after her, -blinking a little and stooping more than usual beneath the horrid burden -of so many astounded stares, Mr. Montgomery Pearson followed with her -shawl. - -The door swung shut behind them and the house was in darkness again. -Only the red light persisted, shining on the imperturbable Phil, who -went on dancing. Teddy managed to get backstage just as the act ended. - -Back there they were not taking it as humorously as he had expected. -Phil came off the stage in a fit of hysteria and everyone was comforting -him. The place was in a mess: everyone was indulging in the luxury of -indignation, and Teddy leaped into the middle of it until the -stage-manager extricated him and sent him forth to calm down the -performers. Bob was the most militant: he was all for sending the -Pearsons out of town by official order from the Mayor. - -"I can see the humour of it as quickly as anyone can, my dear boy," he -explained to Teddy, "but damn it, we must protect the colony. What's to -happen to free speech and all that if we allow the bigots to criticize -us?" - -"I'll start circulating a petition tomorrow," said Gwen. "Teddy, remind -me of it in the morning." - -"Teddy," said the stage-manager, "see if you can't make the property men -get down to work. I promised the undertaker that he can have the chairs -back in time for a bridge party tomorrow." - -"That reminds me," Mrs. Saville-Sanders said, "that I want to talk to -you when you have a moment to spare, Teddy." - -Phil plucked at his arm and asked him feebly if it would be wise to -bring action for libel. Bob thought that it would, and walked off with -him, saying, "I'll give you the address of my attorney in Albuquerque." - -"Before I forget," Mrs. Saville-Sanders persisted, "I want to ask you to -be sure to come to my bridge on the eleventh, Teddy. Don't forget, will -you? I shall count on you. And I wanted to say that you've been a dear -boy and a great help tonight. I don't know what we should have done -without you." She turned to Bob, who had come back. "That's a nice boy," -she added. - -His heart bounded in triumph. The accolade at last! - -"Teddy! Come here a minute, will you? Someone has got to help me pack up -the costumes." - -He ran gaily to obey the last order of the evening. All was well. His -face was as the face of Wellington after Waterloo. - - - - - CHAPTER FIFTEEN - - -At the door of the Gymnasium, Blake halted suddenly, peered around the -room, and swore under his breath. Hearing his own whispering voice was a -comfort to him, but it did not dispel his panic. It was embarrassing, -torturing, to be so early at the Ball. Anyone seeing him would think -that he was eager. He could not bear to be eager, or to be thought so. -No one had come but the orchestra and a few town people who had not gone -to the Vaudeville. Had they seen him? He withdrew to the darkness -outside and plucked nervously at the elastic that held the tall sombrero -on his head. If anyone should see him now they would think that he was -being kept waiting by someone. Irresolutely he turned and went to his -car, to sit there, he told himself grimly, until he had counted twenty -people going in to fill up that appalling room. - -How had he happened to be so early? He wondered what he was missing, and -had a spasm of jealousy. Now he was sorry that he had dashed so quickly -after the show. He had been so afraid that Mary would ask him to take -Phyllis or Lucy over to the Gymnasium. He had wanted to start this -evening of festival all alone and unhampered. He had gone for a short -drive, the Circle Drive up towards Taos, and had been confident he would -be late. Probably they were still at the theatre, talking about the -Pearson business. - -He crouched there smoking until he had counted his twenty people. He -decided to count ten more before risking an entrance. At twenty-seven he -saw Teddy coming with a crowd, showing the tickets of the party and -carrying coats to be checked and in general being very useful. If Teddy -had come, it would be safe. Blake stood up and went into the Gym. The -orchestra had begun to play listlessly, saving its energy for later. -Teddy greeted him impatiently. - -"Where were you? I lost everybody," he said. "I just picked this crowd -up. Gwen and the others went tooting off and I thought you'd be with -them. Where's your mother? None of them are here. What's the idea?" - -Blake explained that his mother had gone with Mrs. Saville-Sanders for -an extempore committee meeting. "I heard them say they'd have some -coffee and get the important business over with right away. I ran away. -It's probably awfully dull. I wouldn't worry about it." - -Teddy tried to thrust his hands into his pockets, but his velvet -trousers had no pockets. "It's very queer," he said. "Why didn't they -ask me too? I had a lot of things to say; I must say it's queer. Do you -think it means anything?" - -Blake thought he understood. "I hate to miss things, too," he said. "It -isn't anything, though. You weren't on the committee, that's all." - -"I suppose that's why." Teddy looked at the door. "Here they are now, -anyway. Whatever it was, it didn't take long." - -The room had filled and the officials of the party had begun to line -people up for the Grand March. Mary, loitering behind with the matrons, -tried to persuade Blake to go in, but he resisted her. - -"You go in, if you want to," he suggested. "I haven't any partner; I -don't want to go. You walk with Madden. He wants to march." - -They walked off arm in arm and he climbed to a bench and stood perched -on high, to see more clearly. It was very colourful and pleasant; the -Gymnasium did not look exactly like a palace, but it didn't look at all -like a schoolroom. In the centre, the marchers were lined up and the -orchestra began to play "La Cucha-racha." They marked time, moved, -started off, and he saw them one by one as they passed. Some of the -costumes were beautiful. Many of them had no appreciable connection with -the period of the Conquistadores, but no one cared about that. The -girls, at least, were faithful to their conceptions of Spain. There were -short-skirted women with flat black hats, and long-skirted girls very -bouffant and draped with lacy shawls. There were women with mantillas -and women who had had to tie their high combs to their heads with silver -ribbons or elastics, to hold them on in spite of their Eton crops. Some -women had dressed for evening and then had relented enough to put roses -in their hair. The men were armoured knights and cowboys and trappers -and Indians. All sorts of Indians. Some were dressed in costumer's -leather and buckskin and some were last-minute affairs of plain shirts -with tails out, and moccasins. Phil Ray had rebelled at the -indeterminate Indian tendency: in reaction he was wearing a slouch cap -and checked trousers from one of his dance costumes, and if anyone asked -him why, he retorted, "I'm an Apache." - -Everyone--men and women--had taken advantage of the Carnival to do what -they wanted to do in the matter of paint. Boys were languishing and -red-lipped, with fierce cork mustaches and Vandykes and heavy hairy -eyebrows. Girls' cheeks flamed orange and scarlet. As the room grew -warmer, everyone began to streak slightly. - -Three times they marched round the room until Blake was heartily tired -of "La Cucha-racha." So was someone else. A determined young man stepped -from the march and went up to whisper into the ear of the orchestra -leader. The signal was given, the tune changed at last, and the line -melted into a dance. Blake remembered his duty and climbed down to claim -Mary until the first intermission after the dance. Afterwards he went -back to the line of wall-flowers to watch the others. He was standing -behind a line of old women who had "just come to look on," and listened -to what they were saying while he kept his eyes fixed on the dancers. -They were amusing, but horrible. They were so spiteful and helpless. The -worst of it was that they all agreed; if one of them said something they -all nodded and added to the statement. They agreed on the prettiest -costume; they nodded in concert if one of them ventured a view on the -morals of some unfortunate girl who danced by. - -During the third dance, well on towards midnight, he plucked up courage -enough to leave the faded ladies and claim Gin for a dance. She was in -high spirits. He had watched her from across the floor; now that she was -in his arms breathing in his face he understood better why she was so -excited. Corn liquor, probably. They went twice around the room without -speaking. - -"Are you having a good time?" she asked him then. "You look glum." - -"Not very. Does anyone?" - -"Oh I do," she said. "I love crowds, don't you? Everybody in the world -is here. Even from Taos. It's simply marvelous. Have you seen Phil? -Isn't he rare?" - -He glanced at her obliquely and decided that she was pretending. No one -could be enjoying it, really. Everyone was trying too hard, as they -always did in crowds. He was depressed. Merry-making always seemed to -leave him out. Was it his own fault? Of course the wags were busy, being -clownish. Clowns were always too busy to think about enjoyment itself. -Why couldn't he be like that? If he could even stop thinking about -himself it would be more comfortable, but he couldn't. No one ever -could. Mary couldn't, or Teddy. - -The dance was ended; she took his arm and started to lead him from the -room. - -"Where are we going?" he asked suspiciously. - -"Out to the car. I want a drink, don't you? Harvey's waiting." - -"No. If you don't mind, I won't come along." He was afraid of Harvey; -afraid that he would be in the way. Harvey had danced with Gin held very -close, in a very proprietary manner. - -She tugged at him. "Come along. You don't have to drink if you don't -want to, but please come on. Please. I hate sitting out there alone with -him." - -That settled it and he stopped short. "No," he said flatly. "No I -won't." - -She cried out impatiently and began to argue, as he knew she would. But -whatever she was saying, he did not hear; he was suddenly listening to -another voice behind him, that struck him with terror. - -"There's Blake Lennard," he heard, and knew it was Maria. "Oh Blake! -turn around." - -He obeyed, but he was very fearful. Maria was hanging to the arm of Mrs. -Lyons, and she was dressed magnificently in a Spanish dress of black -lace. Inherited, probably. She narrowed her eyes as she smiled and he -thought nervously that she looked like the--was it basilisk or obelisk? -Mrs. Lyons, always stupid, now beamed at them maternally as Maria seized -his free arm. Maria ignored Gin completely. "Aren't you going to dance -with me?" she asked him. - -"Surely. See you later--just a minute." He pulled away and hurried out, -with Gin looking back wonderingly at the little girl. - -"Good heavens. Who is that little vamp? What's been going on between -you?" She was giggling. - -"Where's the car?" he asked impatiently. "I'd better stay a while." - -Harvey, when they found him packed down in the back seat of his auto, -was very jovial, and if he objected to Blake's presence he at least gave -no indication of it. He was very insistent upon sharing his bottle. - -Blake still held out. "I don't like the taste, really." - -"He's got to keep his wits about him tonight," Gin explained, and patted -his shoulder affectionately. "Don't you make him take anything if he -doesn't want to. He's saving himself for a little girl back there who's -waiting for a dance. You ought to see her, and the way she looks at -him!" She laughed heartily. "Blake's been carrying on behind our backs, -that's what the trouble is. Carrying on!" - -"Oh, stop it. Do you really think I ought to go back and dance?" - -"Ought to? How do I know what you've been doing with her? You won't get -home alive if you don't, if that's what you mean." - -He sighed unhappily. "Give me a drink," he asked pleadingly, and Harvey -shouted with laughter. - -He pounded Blake on the back as he handed him the little cup. "That's -the boy. He's all right, he is. _I_ used to think Blake was just a -sissy, but he's all right. One of the boys." - -"Of course he's all right," said Gin. "I always told you he was. Now -he's turned out to be John Gilbert besides." - -"Stop giggling!" Blake flushed with rage. "You're always giggling." - -She giggled again. Harvey put his arm around her and she made no effort -to push him away. In spite of himself, Blake had to look at them. He -couldn't make up his mind what to do. If he started to go they would -object, and insist on his staying. If he went back to the ballroom he -would have to dance with Maria; he couldn't face it. He sat still, being -miserable. He tried to keep his eyes off the shadow that was Gin and -Harvey, twined in each other's arms, but there was no help for it. In -the corridor made by the tonneaus of the cars, lined up in three -straight rows, other people were pouring drinks and sitting close -together. He heard the sounds; whisperings and laughter and soft -chinking. Any evening at the Country Club it was the same. Why did they -come all the way to Santa Fé to do it? He thought again--and again and -again--of that hint Maria had given him about Teddy and Revelita. Teddy -too? He could not believe it. Teddy, who painted so well and talked so -well and was so impatient of all this; just as impatient as he himself -had been. Teddy never mentioned it. Would he never understand the rest -of the people in the world? Was there nothing for it but to go on alone, -travelling by himself through life? He looked disgustedly at Gin, just -as she came to a late realization of his mood, and pulled herself away -from Harvey. - -"Where's Teddy?" she asked, as casually as if she were continuing a -conversation. "I want him. Harvey, go on and get him: you're falling -asleep." - -Harvey stirred and shook his head. "I don't want to. I'm sleepy." - -"Oh, don't be mean. Go and get him. I want to tell him something." - -"I'll get him," said Blake. He leaped out, disregarding her protests, -and went back to the ballroom, forgetting all about Maria until he -reached the door. Then, in a panic, he hid behind a tall girl who was -going in, and looked around fearfully before he started over to Teddy in -the corner. Janie Peabody seized him as he walked by her. He was -surprised, because Janie never noticed him any more than he noticed her. -Now she was very cordial. She insisted on making him sit next to her, -holding his arm and talking very seriously and incoherently. He knew -that she was drunk. He remembered that it was one of the things the old -ladies said when they sat against the wall at parties; Janie drinks too -much. That Peabody girl ought to have more sense. If someone would -persuade her to go to a sanatorium--so sad at her age.... He wondered -how to get away, but he couldn't think fast enough. She wanted to dance. - -Unhappily, he pulled her to her feet and started around the room. It was -unutterably difficult. He couldn't listen properly to the music, and she -was unsteady and leaned heavily on him. When she began to sing he looked -at the floor, and this naturally led to many collisions. He looked up -again, desperately, and just then Janie decided that she was tired and -slumped to the floor. She sat there, laughing. - -"This isn't happening," he thought frantically. "It's a dream." - -He persuaded her to stand up again, pulling her by the wrists, and tried -to lead her to the side of the room. Just then he caught a glimpse of -Mary, white-faced, looking the other way. He had thought that he could -not be more miserable, but when he saw her he reached the limit of his -endurance. He handed Janie over to Trewartha, and then took a deep -breath and walked across the floor to Mary. - -"I was looking for you," he said, abruptly. - -She bowed her head. What was she going to say to him? - -"You look tired," he added. "Would you like to go home? It's pretty -late." - -"Thank you, Blake," she said coldly. "I don't think that I want you to -come with me." - -"Why not?" He suddenly thought he understood. "You don't want me to come -home any more?" - -"Oh, don't be dramatic. Go away, please. Don't stop enjoying yourself." - -His anger with Janie burst out now. "You're the one who's being -dramatic. Very well, I won't come home." - -"That's your own affair." She opened her fan and started to wave it -delicately. "Mother...." - -"Blake, please. We'll talk about it in the morning." - -He muttered, "No we won't," and started away, feeling decidedly ill with -passion. On his way to the door he blundered into Mrs. Lyons, who -stopped him. - -"So you're leaving us?" She smiled down at him with her customary -indiscriminate fondness for youth. - -He managed to collect his manners, saying politely, "It's a nice party, -but I'm sleepy." - -"I didn't mean tonight," she explained. "Wednesday I mean. I understand -you're really leaving on Wednesday. Such a shame, when you're having a -good time! My boys hate to go back to school." - -His jaw dropped as if someone had hit him on the back of the head. -"Wednesday?" - -"Did I misunderstand?" she said. "I'm sure your mother said Wednesday." -"Oh, of course. Yes, Wednesday. Well, I must be going. Good-night." - -But that was in four days! He walked towards Teddy, instinctively -seeking help. Why hadn't she told him? She had been too excited, -probably; she had forgotten or put it off until she would have more time -to argue. He rallied in his despair, and grew calm. - -"Teddy," he said, over Lucy's shoulder, "I've got to talk to you." - -"Shhh." Teddy waved him to silence. Bob was talking to Lucy Parker, and -he wanted to listen. - -"It's a modern orgy," he was saying. "It's the nearest approach to a -public orgy that we'll ever have in New Mexico." - -Lucy glanced around, with her lips pursed scornfully, and remarked that -for an orgy it was very dull indeed. "Look, there's hardly anyone here -to perform. Everyone is being either very dull or most circumspect." - -"Of course," said Bob triumphantly. "That's the modern note. All the -essence of the orgy is in the aftermath. We've lost the knack for public -vice. We've----" - -"Oh, for Pete's sake," whispered Blake, "come on. This is awfully -important." - -"What is it?" They strolled off. - -"I'm in a mess. I just found out--Oh, Lord." He had caught sight of -Maria coming towards him. "Come on outside. I'll never be able to tell -you in here. It's terrible." - -They stepped out of the door and were almost knocked over by Gin, who -was in a whirl of dishevelled shawl and escaping hair. She flung herself -upon them. - -"Thank goodness you're here," she cried. "Take me home. I'm in the most -awful mess." - -"Another?" asked Teddy. "Well, tell us all about it." - -They went to Blake's car and crowded into the front seat. - -Teddy nodded to Gin. "Well, tell yours first." - -"I couldn't possibly tell you," she said. "It's too involved. It's -indecent besides. Just get me out of here before Harvey finds me, -because he's in a state and if I see him again I'll pull his hair out." -She laughed in a shrill voice. "The old sheep," she said hysterically. -"He acts exactly like a sheep." - -"Well, then, wait a minute. Blake's really in trouble." - -"Oh." She calmed down immediately. "I'm sorry. Is it serious?" - -Blake sat tragically slumped, with his chin propped on his hands over -the steering-wheel. "I just heard that Mother's shipping me off on -Wednesday," he said. - -The others gasped in chorus. - -"Wednesday!" cried Gin. "You mean to school? California? But that's just -four days from now!" - -"Three days. Today is tomorrow. I mean it's three o'clock." - -In the silence the music in the Gymnasium sounded foolish and far away. -Someone scuffled and laughed in one of the nearby automobiles. "You -can't argue with your mother?" Gin asked. - -"No. She's in a state about something. I can't even talk to her -decently." - -Teddy said, "Wait till morning. Maybe she'll be all right then." - -"No, I don't dare risk it. It wouldn't do any good. I'll just have to go -unless I get away before she catches me." - -They must have understood him, for they remained silent. A little breeze -came from the mountains. - -Gin took a quick, noisy breath and cried, "Well, why shouldn't you? -Let's all go away now. This minute, while we have a chance." - -Teddy said nothing. They looked at him imploringly, waiting, but he did -not say anything. At last Gin took him by the shoulders and shook him. - -"You're not going to back out, are you?" she begged. "You want to go -away, don't you? You said you did. Come on. Blake, you tell him." - -Blake couldn't speak. "Oh, all right," said Gin petulantly. "Neither of -you mean it. Come on, Blake, let's get out and leave him here. He can -stay in this old town till he rots. I'm going to Mexico." - -Blake's mind seemed to burn up in a quick ecstatic thought of it. He -shuddered. - -Teddy spoke at last. "Of course I'm going. Don't be an ass. I'm just -thinking." He sat still, and then said, "First we'd better get coats. -Give me the checks. It's going to be cold." - -"Oh," Gin cried impatiently, "we don't need coats. Come on." - -"Wait a minute. Give me the check, you lunatic." She handed it to him; -he took Blake's and went to the door. When he came back with the -coats----"There," he said. "We don't have to be quite half cocked, do -we? Now about money. We'll need gas, Gin: try to snap out of it. I'm -broke. Is everyone?" - -"No," said Blake, "I've got fifteen dollars." - -"I cashed my salary today," said Gin. "I have twenty. That's enough, -isn't it?" - -"It's got to be. All right, let's go. Let's see where we can be by -morning." He wrapped his coat around him and sat back. - -Blake laughed loudly. "Ready?" he called. "Everybody ready?" - -"Let's go!" - -The engine raced for a minute. Blake backed the car, then started down -the road to Albuquerque. - - - - - CHAPTER SIXTEEN - - -Before they had come to the gap that cuts a sharp high line of hills and -marks the half-way point to Albuquerque, the sun came up. It was -gloriously melodramatic over the little crawling black car; it spouted -red and orange over the sky, and the fresh midsummer wind was cool and -ethereal. Gin held up her chin and closed her eyes for a second, -sniffing. Then she opened them hastily, for she was driving and it would -not do to go to sleep. Not that she felt sleepy; she was still tingling -and wide-awake. She peered into the mirror at Blake, asleep and -white-faced in the tonneau, and wondered at his indifference. But the -poor kid had been through a rotten night: only in the last half-hour he -had stopped jerking and looking back over his shoulder at the empty -black road behind them. It was awful to be a kid. Even the law wouldn't -help. - -Thinking of the law, she felt afraid again. It was time to ask Teddy the -question she had thought of hours before, but had put out of her mind. - -"Teddy," she said in a low voice. He woke from his doze, beside her, and -cocked an eyebrow. "Teddy, are we all right with Blake?" - -"Why not?" His voice was husky: a morning voice. - -"Couldn't we get into trouble driving off with the car like this?" - -"No. It's his car. His own car." - -"I don't mean robbery; I mean the Mann act, or kidnapping, or whatever -you call it. He's a minor, isn't he?" - -She watched him and grew more uneasy, for worry appeared on his face. - -"Gosh," he murmured. "I don't know anything about the law.... You think -they might send the police after us?" - -She shrugged helplessly. He pondered for a minute, then turned around -and tugged at Blake's foot. - -"Wake up, kid--you can sleep again in a minute. Listen; how worried do -you think your mother will be?" - -Blake sat up with a guilty jerk and rubbed his eyes. He was frightened -at first; then he remembered and smiled. Watching him through the -driving mirror, Gin knew that she would fight for him no matter what the -police did. She'd keep him out of school if he didn't want to go back. -She'd take care of him. - -"What did you say?" - -"We were wondering about your mother," said Teddy. "Will she send the -police after us? You're a runaway, you know." - -The air was growing lighter, changing to pink. Blake looked around him -at the passing juniper-bushes and said slowly, "She won't think I've -gone. Not till this afternoon. I said I wouldn't be coming home; she'll -think I went with you." - -"But when she finds out?" - -"I'll tell her myself. I'll telegraph something, and then I think she'll -be too proud to send after me. Don't you worry; I'm not worried. Isn't -this great? Isn't it? Let me drive awhile." - -"We're going to wash as soon as we reach the river," Gin said flatly, -"colds or no colds." - -The sun was high when they came to the bridge and they took turns -bathing, hidden more or less from the highway by a bush. Afterwards they -had coffee in Albuquerque and sent a telegram to Mary: "GONE TO MEXICO -HEALTHY WRITING DO NOT WORRY LOVE BLAKE." - -"There," said Blake, "that looks perfectly reasonable. Now she won't -worry." - -Teddy drove out of town, while Gin sat in the back and watched him, -wondering what he was thinking about it all. Was he enjoying it, or was -he beginning to be sorry? His face reflected in the mirror was impassive -and close-lipped. She stared at it until her eyes closed under the -brightening sun, and she slept. - -They stopped at last in a field and lay down in their coats on the -ground to sleep, surrounded by stumpy bits of yellow grass growing in -the dry soil. Gin dreamed that she was back at her desk in the office in -Indiana, typing. A long complicated dream it was, with a dreary wretched -atmosphere about it. It was even worse than the real thing had been. She -woke in a bad mood; the relief that flooded through her when she found -herself lying in a field with her shoulder dented by a rock couldn't -dispel the eerie horror of it. She looked at her watch: it was only -noon. Shifting quietly, she lifted the edge of her coat and put it over -her head to keep the sun from giving her more bad dreams. A burro was -grazing a few yards away. He raised his head as she raised hers, and -they looked at each other for some seconds with similar expressions of -sun-drenched drowsiness. He sighed and dropped his head to the grass -again. Vaguely comforted, she lay down and went to sleep. - -They got up at four, because they had seen signs advertising a rodeo at -Magdalena. This meant going forty miles out of the road to El Paso, but -as Blake pointed out, they had the rest of their lives ahead of them. -They drove into town at eight o'clock, when the whole place in the -ordinary course of events would be going to bed. Tonight, however, it -was different: the dusty streets were trampled with thousands of -hoof-marks and people swarmed along the side of the road. Cowboys in -blue jeans crowded the stores and leaned against the doors, picking -their teeth. Four or five cars were parked on the main street, and in -front of the post office a group of Indians sat on the ground, waiting -for excitement. - -Gin was too stirred to sit quietly. She stood up in the seat as they -drove slowly down the road, turning her head this way and that. "It's so -_thrilling_," she said. She looked at Teddy and impatiently shoved his -shoulder. "Isn't it thrilling?" she repeated. - -"Let's find something to eat," he answered. There was a slight argument -over this. Gin and Blake wanted to cook their own food, and Teddy was in -too much of a hurry. In defence of himself, he developed a plan. He -found out where the hotel was, and after making his companions promise -not to say anything, he bargained with the proprietor for jobs for the -lot of them. Gin, he protested, was a professional waitress and he and -Blake were expert dishwashers. The man consented to take them on for the -next two days, during the rush, at wages of ten dollars among the three -of them, and meals included. Teddy tried to get rooms too, but this was -no good. The proprietor compromised by selling them three blankets for -fifty cents apiece. Afterwards they ate bowls of chili con carne and -drank coffee and condensed milk, then drove out of town to make camp. - -Rolled up in her blanket, Gin was almost comfortable. It was romantic -and satisfactory under the chilly stars. Once, towards morning, she woke -with a jerk and noticed that the world seemed much too large and quiet. -She sighed and tried to edge nearer to Blake. The air smelled of sage -and horses: she wondered dreamily why she was there, and then she -remembered and was happy before she went to sleep again. - -Breakfast and lunch next day merged in the kitchen into one long period -of torture--aching arms and weary feet for Gin, and greasy, coolish -water for Teddy and Blake. She carried trays back and forth from the -dining-room and the flies followed everywhere. But the meals were good -enough and they would need the money. After lunch, when they had rested -and felt more cheerful, they brushed themselves off and went to see the -most important part of the rodeo, the bronco-busting. All three of them -had seen rodeos, the big famous ones that went even to New York and -London, but this one was different and more fun. The horses were really -wild, and lots of them were new to the game. The men were not -professional riders, but cow-hands who spent most of the year working on -ranches. - -Gin and Blake and Teddy had never seen anything like it. The riding was -thrilling. They stood on tiptoe to watch over the heads of the people -who were so unlike the sightseers at Vegas on the Fourth of July. Town -people, the Mexicans who lived in Magdalena and Datil and Socorro and -San Antonio, were mixed up with the ranchers' families who cheered their -own punchers or watched excitedly silent when they had bet on the length -of time some man would stay on the back of his horse, watched eagerly -while he was tossed and bounced and jerked by his bronco. - -There was a race of wild mules; the animals were saddled for the first -time in their lives and the riders had to run them in a straight course -for the goal. One of the mules got there: the other three rid themselves -of their riders and then dashed round and round, kicking up wildly and -almost splitting themselves in fright at the dangling stirrups and -straps. They were caught and set free in a corral. - -The air was dusty and hot. After two hours of it, Gin had had enough. -She retired to the car and sat down there, waiting until the boys should -want to go home. She sat with her back to the field and tried not to -think at all. The only way to get anywhere, she knew, was to be an -absolute imbecile, never reflecting on the past or the future. For -instance, if she should start to worry about the trouble she had caused -at the couriers' headquarters, or if she had any qualms about leaving -Flo and Harvey, she would weaken. Instead, she stretched out in the sun -and began to recite the multiplication table. - -The boys came back in a great hurry, having looked at the time and -remembered their duties at the hotel. For the next three hours Gin -forgot everything but her legs and arms: the dining-room was jammed. -There was to be a big party at the dance hall and the boys wanted to go. -When she tried to stay behind to rest, Blake begged her to come for only -an hour, and she gave in. It wasn't that she was so tired really, she -confessed. - -"I look like a mess," she said to herself. But she borrowed a knife from -the kitchen and trimmed the fringe of her shawl, and they all polished -each others' shoes as well as they could. They were an hour late for the -beginning of the dance. - -The orchestra was pretty bad, of course, and the floor was rough. Gin -danced once with each of the boys and then suggested that they mix with -the others. They ran off thankfully and left her alone, but it was not -long before a tall cow-hand requested the honor of the next number, and -after that she was so busy that she had no time to be tired. - -The music seemed to get better. She danced often with a stocky man who -had a scar on his chin and was a better dancer than he looked. He was -foreman at a ranch, in for the celebration, and every now and then he -disappeared and came back smelling of whisky. She would have liked a -drink, but civilization had not yet reached Magdalena and no one offered -her anything. - -Another man told her that he was home-steading. She said, "But aren't -all the good lands used up? I thought----" - -"Yes, ma'am. My land ain't so good. I'm thinking of starting a sort of -store when it's settled, and making out that way. The only thing is, a -fellow gets lonesome and there aren't enough girls. I've known boys to -ride eight miles both ways, just to call on a girl." He surveyed her -morosely. "If you was thinking of locating out here, you wouldn't have -much trouble getting yourself a husband. Take me, why, I've been looking -for a wife for a couple of years. Can you cook? I seen you stepping -pretty lively with the plates, up at the hotel." - -It was at that point that she called Teddy and reminded him that they -had not danced lately. She apologized afterwards, but he said it was -just as well she had done it while he was still winner at the crap-game. - -It was late and cold when they went back to camp, but they were in good -spirits and hummed all the way. After Gin had cuddled down in her -blanket she could not go to sleep. She listened to the blood pounding -through her lips, and thought of Teddy and Blake so near her, and -wondered if anyone had ever been happier. - - - - - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - - -It was six o'clock in the evening. Blake stopped with his arms full of -all the wood he had picked up, rabbit-brush roots and twigs and a few -bigger branches hacked unscientifically from half-dead trees. He wanted -to stay out here a minute, on the other side of the hill from the fire. -Gin was busy cutting up onions, probably, and if he got back there -before Teddy did she would make him help. Anyway, there was no hurry for -the wood: the car was full of bits that they had picked up all day. -There was wood and a water can and a saucepan and there were two loaves -of bread and an assortment of knives and forks from the Magdalena hotel. -In a few minutes it would be his job to pull it all out, but not yet. - -He could see smoke from the fire hovering in the air. Probably she was -mixing the stew now. He thought pleasurably of that stew, potatoes and -onions and corned beef, most likely. Still, he would stand here until -they called him. He loved them both, but it was good to be alone. How -alone he was, even with that smoke so near him! He sighed with content -and looked in the opposite direction, at the place where the sun had -just sunk out of sight. The land was perfectly flat. A few bushes and -cholla plants stood out like giants on the plain. It was hours' since -they had passed a fence; just land and land and land, with here and -there a side road. - -Two days now until they reached Mexico; two days at the most. He could -hardly believe it. He looked up at the sky and wondered what would -happen to them. Where would they be in ten years? Still in Mexico, still -together? He hoped so. The rule of the expedition was that no one should -think of anything but the present. Teddy had made it; he had said, -"Let's not remember anything or plan for anything. Let's just go along." -Now Blake broke the rule; he wondered how they were acting at that -moment in Santa Fé, without him. Mary would be dining with Bob, perhaps, -and talking about him. Probably she was being very offhand and modern. -He could hear her saying, "He'll be back before the week is out. I know -Blake. He'll do his sulking and then come back perfectly cheerful." Oh, -he said defiantly to himself, will I? - -It occurred to him then that he had really heard her saying it. Had some -part of him been back there, waiting in the air and listening to Mary? -When he said "Will I?" perhaps she had jumped a little, thinking of him -saying it just at the time that he did. He followed the idea. Perhaps -even though he was standing here on the desert, there was a part or -shell of him in that room where he had been, telegraphing. - -He felt very clear about it, and willing to go on with the speculation. -His mind worked better these days. Every mile he went away from school -seemed to help. He was almost ready to form a theory that one learned -better if one was happy; perhaps in Mexico he might even become -interested in algebra. - -"Yoo-hoo!" Gin was calling him. "Stew-hoo!" He picked up one last twig -and went back to the fire, smiling. Teddy was measuring out -coffee-grounds to put in the boiling water, and Gin told Blake to cut -the bread. They started to eat as fast as they could, though the food -was still almost too hot. - -All of them were wind-burned and peeling, with dry lips from the dust -and the sun. They looked bigger, somehow, than they had been when they -started out. And yet it had been only four--no, five days, Blake said -aloud, since they rode out of Albuquerque. No one answered him, and for -a while there was no noise but tin spoons on tin plates. - -"Ho-ho," said Teddy, sighing, and stretching out his legs. "I ate too -much." They settled back comfortably, their heads pillowed on rolled -blankets. It was getting dark enough to show up a few pale stars. - -Gin said, "You're all wrong about not mentioning Santa Fé. It's the best -part of being out here, thinking about town and how nice it is that -we're not back there. I keep wondering how Flo is getting along with the -dudes, and then I look around and feel great." - -"That's the way it is with me," said Blake. "I want to think about it -all the time. The old plaza and all that. How do you think it turned out -with Phil and the Pearsons?" - -"Oh, I bet nothing happened at all. Nothing ever happens there. You -always think it will, but it doesn't. Something else will turn up pretty -soon that they'll be talking about instead of Phil." - -"They're talking about _us_ now," said Teddy, in a tone of deep -satisfaction. - -There was silence again. Then Blake hit the ground with his fist. "I -feel so _great_," he said. - -"We all do," said Teddy quietly. To Blake, still in that queer state -where everything was crystal clear, it came suddenly that he would never -forget any of this moment; the orange-glowing fire or the two -pastel-shadowed figures sitting beside it. Teddy's profile, with -turned-up nose and ruffled hair, was lowered to the branch he held in -his hand, poking the ashes at his feet. He would always remember that, -and the smell of burning cedar. - -Gin sighed. "If it starts raining again tonight I'll go to sleep sitting -right up in the car. I felt lousy last night." - -"Oh, it won't rain tonight," Blake promised easily. "The sky is clear." -It was his trip and he felt responsible for nature. The fire burned down -to a useful small smouldering size while the night crept up around them. - -"It's queer how easy it is not to worry out here," Gin said. "I used to -worry all the time about everything, and now nothing seems to be very -important." - -"I know," said Teddy. - -"You? You never bothered your head about anything," she said -resentfully. "Money or anything. I used to be so jealous that I could -have choked you sometimes." - -"What do you know about it? I did too worry. I didn't say anything about -it, that's all." - -Blake listened carefully to this strange talk, and now he felt impelled -to break in. - -"I don't understand either of you. Why should you have worried about -anything? You're grown up. If I ever get to be twenty-one, there won't -be another thing in my life that I can't manage. Just to think that no -one will be able to tell me what to do, after that! You don't know when -you're well off." - -"Oh, yeah?" Gin pushed a charred log farther into the fire. "Well, wait -until you get there and you'll see how easy it is." - -"People waste too much time. Always talking about little things that -don't make any difference anyway, and fussing around with people they -don't like very much. They ought to stop doing what they don't want to -do, if it doesn't make any difference to anyone. They ought to go and do -what they really want." - -"What do _you_ want to do?" asked Gin. "What things really do matter? -You act as if there were something else to _do_." - -"I don't know. It depends on who you are. Teddy really wants to paint; -it really matters to him. What do you really want to do?" - -"I don't know. I want to have a good time in Mexico, that's all, and it -looks as if I'll get it." She patted Blake's hand and smiled at him. - -"Well, if you're satisfied now it's just because there isn't anyone else -around to give you ideas," said Teddy suddenly. "We're in an artificial -state just now, the way people always are when they travel. When we get -some place in Mexico and start getting acquainted with people, things -will be complicated again for all of us." - -"I can't understand you," Blake repeated sincerely. "I used to think -that everyone knew all about things, everyone but me. I always felt like -saying to older people, 'Here, what about life? What is it like?' I -honestly thought they'd be able to tell me. Now I'm getting there -myself, and I know that I have as much sense as anybody, but it isn't -much." - -He put his hands behind his head and looked at the sky and was happy, in -spite of the ignorance of humanity. - -"We ought really to have some ready-made answer to questions about life -and all that," said Teddy. "We all fool around and fool around trying to -figure out an answer, and at the end we just take what we have." - -"We take what we have and then we quit," Gin said gloomily. - -"Whatever we have. It isn't any better than what other people have, -that's the tragedy of it. It's no nearer the real truth." - -"What truth?" asked Blake. "Is there one?" - -"Oh, yes." Gin sounded shocked. "There's got to be truth. Why, here we -are, all alive. What's it all about, if there's not some truth?" - -"It's just an accident that we're here. Look at us and then look at all -this space. Why should we have been picked out, especially?" - -"I don't say that we are, especially. I don't mean just us, just the -three of us or even the whole race. I mean the world and the universe -and so forth. Why does it keep on going?" - -"It doesn't have to have a personal manager," Blake insisted. "It all -runs by system. Science." - -"Sure. All right. But what's the system? Truth, of course." - -"Call it God while you're at it," drawled Teddy, who was almost asleep. -"That's what you're working around to, anyway. 'Some call it -Evolution'...." - -"I don't mean Evolution," said Gin scornfully. "Now you've got me all -mixed up. I'm talking about the truth, that's all. Things _are_ true. If -I didn't think so, I'd commit suicide. I wouldn't even take the trouble -to commit suicide, I'd just stop living." - -"Well then, by all means go on believing in truth," said Teddy placidly. - -"It isn't believing," she insisted. "It _is_ so." - -"I never feel like committing suicide," said Blake thoughtfully. "It -might hurt." - -"Well, that proves it," Gin said triumphantly. "You have a standard." - -"No, I haven't. That doesn't follow." He stood up and stretched, - -Teddy said, "Of course you have. You believe in painting, don't you? -Some of it is better than the rest, isn't it? Well then, you have -standards." - -"Oh, no. Those are personal preferences. What I am, not what I think. My -likes and dislikes aren't my thoughts." - -"How can you decide which is you, and which is what you think?" - -Blake was silent. It was too much like that old thing that used to -puzzle him so at breakfast; the picture of the girl on the box of -cornflakes. She held another box of cornflakes on her lap, with a -picture on it of a girl holding a box of cornflakes, with a picture of a -girl.... Once upon a time he had studied that picture until he was -nearly crazy, trying to imagine what happened after the boxes had become -so small that he couldn't see them. He grunted and rolled over with his -nose burrowed into the blanket. - -"That's why we bother our heads about little things," said Gin. "When we -try to figure out big ones, we go crazy." - -"Some people do," Teddy said. "They stop thinking about everything but -that one question, What is Truth? Scientists...." - -"I know," she said impatiently. "Arrowsmith stuff. What difference does -it all make?" She unrolled her blanket and started to take off her -shoes. - -"We're like a legend," Blake said after a moment. "Three brave people -going out into the world. It makes me feel brave to sleep next to a -fire. I don't know why." - -"It is like that," Gin said eagerly. "Like the Three Musketeers, but -there were four Musketeers really, weren't there? I always forget. -Perhaps we'll pick up a fourth somewhere." - -"I hope not," said Teddy. "Four would be too many and we'd have -trouble." - -"I don't see why." - -"If we pick up another man, he'll start making love to you; and if we -pick up another girl one of us will start making love to her." - -"I don't think so." Blake sat up. "We don't make love now, so why should -anyone else start us off? We're different." - -"Oh, you think so?" Teddy laughed in a nasty patronizing manner that -disturbed Blake. "Wait a while. We know each other too well, this crowd. -Take it from me, someone else will spoil it." - -Blake was uneasy. He hated to carry the conversation farther, but he was -too worried to let it drop. "Why should we change?" he persisted. "We -get along." - -"How do you know? How do you know Gin gets along, for instance? Or that -I do?" - -Gin interrupted, saying, "Oh, shut up, Teddy. Never mind," she added to -Blake, "he's talking through his hat. Go to sleep." - -Wonderingly, Blake looked from one to the other of his companions. They -were glaring at each other. - -"Leave him alone," said Gin. - -"Why should I? What are you trying to do; mother him? This is no -nursery." Teddy lay down with his back to the others. - -"Well then, try to act your age," she retorted, but there was no answer. - -In the next few minutes the quiet of the prairie was disturbed by -Teddy's soft snores. The atmosphere had cleared and everything was -peaceful. Blake sighed and flopped over in his cocoon. - -"Gin," he whispered experimentally. - -She lifted her head. "I can't sleep." They peered at Teddy, and she -added, "I think I'll take a walk. It's awfully early. Do you want to -come along?" - -Softly he untangled his feet and put his shoes on again; she did the -same. They tiptoed away to the road and set out at a good stride. The -starlight was blue. - -"I kept thinking of poetry," he explained, "and I couldn't get to sleep. -It kept going round and round in my head." - -"What poetry?" - -"Just little pieces that I've read. I thought this one over and over: - - "While waves far off in a pale rose twilight - Crash on a white sand shore. - -"I don't think it's right, but that's the way I remember it." - -"There's just one poem I remember," she said. "You know---- - - "From too much love of living, - From hope and fear set free.... - -"Do you like that one too?" he asked. Incredible! They stared at each -other. - -The light of a ranch house was ahead of them, and they paused. - -"Let's go back," she said. He nodded and they turned. - -"Listen, Gin," he said thoughtfully, "I know what Madden meant when you -got sore at him. You don't have to worry about me. I know what he -meant." - -"Of course you do." - -"Only I don't like to talk about it, that's all. I just don't like it -and I won't talk about it. You see? I don't want you to think...." - -"Of course I see. Never mind." - -"I don't want you or Madden to think I'm dumb, or...." - -"I don't think you're dumb at all." - -They turned up the field again towards the fire. - -"Gin," he asked, "do you think that any other three people ever had a -better time?" - -"That's what I was wondering. I don't see how they could, the way most -of them live." - -He sighed. "I wonder if we'll go on feeling like this. Sometimes I'm -afraid." - -"Afraid of what? Of course lots of things could happen. We might have an -accident, or perhaps...." - -"That isn't what I mean. I'm not sure what I do mean. But--well, if one -of us should die it would be terrible, but that isn't the most dangerous -thing." - -"What is it, then?" She was whispering now, standing near the fire. -Teddy was still snoring. - -"People change so. You might change, Gin. Even I...." - -She shook her head and he thought that she looked very sad. "I'm grown -up," she said. "I'm more grown up than you are, and I know about myself. -You're the one who will change, or Teddy. I don't want to go back; I -don't want to do anything but this." - -He believed her, and felt lighter. "Don't worry about me. I don't want -anything else either. Look at the star up there, over that tree. It's -green, isn't it?" - -Teddy tossed a little, and mumbled. - -"We'd better be quiet," whispered Gin. "Go on back to sleep." - - - - - CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - - -Teddy woke up very early in the morning. The sun had come up and had -lost its colour: it hung above the flat line of earth like a colourless -lantern, a lamp made of gold but with no light in it. He did not know -what had waked him, but there was a chattering birdlike noise from a -hummock nearby. Prairie dogs, and they had been making a terrific row, -probably. One of them put his nose out of the hole as Teddy lay on his -side with wide-open eyes, watching. He crept out slowly, his plump -little body elongated with caution. He drew up his back legs one after -the other very gently, and sat down on the top with his paws dangling -before him. His head turned slowly and he looked at the world with -squirrel-like eyes that saw no importance in anything, even in the three -prone giants around the smoking pile of ashes. Then he suddenly started -to run close to the ground, looking for something to eat. Teddy sat up, -and he squeaked and rushed down his hole again; his tail gave a last -little twitch as it disappeared. - -Gin's head was covered with her blanket against mosquitos and dew; there -was nothing visible of Gin but a wisp of hair. Blake's face was turned -to the sun, and his mouth was open. They both slept deeply. It must be -very early indeed. - -Teddy yawned, rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He propped his elbows -on his knees, and his chin on his fists, waiting for something to -happen. The day was gathering colour again, as if light from the sun -were slowly filling the air, mixing imperceptibly, sinking down from the -layer of sunshine above the clouds in little driblets, like a mixture of -drinks. The ground had dropped away from under the sun. Beyond the long -shallow swell of ground in front of him there came a ghost of a yell. -Teddy leaned back among the folds of the blanket, and watched until he -saw far off the silhouette of a man on horseback driving before him a -flock of sheep, almost invisible in the irregular ground. - -He moved nervously and looked again at Gin and Blake. He was depressed, -full of a foreboding and a loneliness. Every morning when he woke he was -uneasy until he had spoken to the others, and he was never completely at -his ease until they had stopped at a store or a gasoline station and -chatted with the attendant. It was like a feeling of guilt, the -conviction that came to him every morning that he had no right out here -under the sky. He was trespassing. Surely some day he would be waked by -a policeman, and ordered out of the desert. There must be a law about -sleeping out like this. One night he had been so uneasy that he had -waited until the others were asleep and then crept back to the curtained -car to sleep under some sort of cover, at least. It was all right unless -he woke up at night: if he slept straight through and found himself -still there in the morning, with no enemy standing beside him, he felt -triumphant and safe for the day. Just now he was nervous. That man with -the sheep--would he see them and come over to order them off? It was -ridiculous, of course. The land didn't belong to the shepherd any more -than to himself, or Gin. - -He looked at the sky. There were no clouds, and it would be a hot day. -Where were they going? Would they be in El Paso today? He twisted around -and looked at the tires of the car--no flats. The corner of the -packing-box where they kept the groceries was sticking up above the -door. He put on his shoes and stood up quietly. - -When Gin and Blake woke they found him tearing a branch into bits, -feeding the small beginnings of a fire. - -"What's the idea?" Gin asked crossly. "It's too early to get up." - -"I was cold," he answered calmly, and put one foot on the branch while -he jerked at it. - -"Cold! It's so hot that we'll be getting sunstroke." - -"Well then, get up. The coffee will be ready soon." - -They protested, but they helped him with the breakfast. It was growing -really hot and they were glad to get into the shade of the car. Blake -poured some of the water into the radiator and watched anxiously as it -disappeared. - -"We're using a lot of water," he said. "I hope we don't run out." - -"Not yet," said Teddy. "There'll be a couple of stations before we get -to town. Climb in." - -The morning was dull and dusty. They passed one or two ranch-houses and -rode through miles of flat lime country, and Teddy's depression grew -stronger. He felt as if he had forgotten something. What was it? But of -course he had forgotten something; he had forgotten everything. -Everything in the world was back in Santa Fé or Minnesota. Did it -matter? He was starting out afresh, without anything in the world but -himself. They were all doing it. It was a rebirth. He looked around at -the desolate country and wondered what the Garden of Eden had looked -like. Blake and Gin were silent and impassive, strangers. He was so -miserable that he was afraid he would start to cry, and their firm young -faces were cruelly indifferent. - -He knew what he wanted. He missed breakfast in Santa Fé, in the Eagle -Cafe. He wanted to go in and sit on a stool before the counter, the -greasy crumb-strewed coffee-splashed table that stretched the length of -the restaurant. He wanted another breakfast with the _Capital Times_ to -read; a stale roll and coffee with milk in it, and people to talk to. -People! And afterwards to stroll down De Vargas Avenue to the -barber-shop, or to sit in the taxi-stand and have a smoke with Harvey, -waiting for trade. He wanted to talk to someone, Harvey or the barber or -the Mexican who lived next door and kept a goat in the back yard. - -And the others--Bob, or Lucy, or even Phyllis Parker. Who was new in -town, he wondered? Who was being taken for the Circle Drive, or eating -lunch in the Plaza? - -The car stopped in front of a little frame shack with a green door and a -red gas pump. A Mexican came out when Blake honked the horn, and filled -the tank sullenly. Blake tried to find out something about the road -ahead. How far was El Paso? Would there be a place where they could have -lunch? Did the Mexican have an extra carrier for gasoline? The man -grunted in reply. He had no gas tank. El Paso wasn't beyond three hours' -drive. A place for lunch three miles farther on. Road pretty good. He -shuffled back into the house and slammed the door. - -There was a poster on the wall that looked new enough to be -contemporary. Curiously, Blake sauntered over to examine it and to read -it aloud: - -"Prize Fight," he said. "Between José Baca and the Montero Kid. Tonight. -Seats twenty-five cents. Reserved fifty. At the Palace Theatre...." - -"Where is it?" Gin asked eagerly. "I'd like to see one. Or is it over?" - -"It was last night, I guess. September sixth--what is today? Is it the -seventh?" - -"It doesn't matter," Gin said. "Come seven, come eleven.... Isn't it my -turn to drive?" - -They rearranged themselves and settled down. Teddy was in a daze. There -was something he had forgotten; he had certainly forgotten something. -Gin had reminded him of it. What was it? - -The morning passed slowly and the sun grew hotter. Blake was excited, -more and more so as they drew near the border. - -"What do you think the border looks like?" he asked cheerfully. "I -expect a sort of chicken-wire fence with flags on each side." - -"I think it'll be a row of milestone things," Gin said. "We can tell -better when we hear them talk. Blake, you wink at me when you hear -someone say 'Carramba!' and we'll know that we've arrived." - -They screamed with laughter. Teddy stared at the road and frowned. Come -seven, come eleven. What was it? Something was wrong: he had forgotten -something. - -"I'm off to my love with a boxing glove," sang Blake. "Whoops!" - -His voice irritated Teddy. It was too shrill, too young, too joyous. And -Gin too: Gin was a sentimental fool. Why need they talk? Couldn't they -ever be quiet? What was that thing he had forgotten? It was important, -too; very important. What was it, and what had it to do with a -prize-fight? He shook his head violently, trying to jog it. - -They had lunch in a little fly-swarmed town. He worked his way through -two pieces of leathery pie, trying to eat himself back to good humour. -They teased him about his appetite and his irritation almost broke -through. On the way to the car Blake swung himself over the door and it -was all Teddy could do to keep from striking him in the face. - -He was tired of the car and the kids; he didn't want to sleep out of -doors any more; he was worried about what they would do in Mexico. And -there was something he had forgotten. - -He was driving. All of a sudden it happened. For the first time in his -life, something came over him that was so powerful, so cleanly sweeping, -that he was utterly without strength before it: he was wax. - -He remembered. - -September seventh, September eleventh. Mrs. Saville-Sanders. The bridge -party. It was September seventh today, and on the eleventh Mrs. -Saville-Sanders was having a bridge party, and she had asked him to come -and help. - -He squeezed his eyes together and looked at Blake, sitting next to him, -and then he turned around wonderingly and peered at Gin in the back -seat. All three of them were dusty tramps, sitting in a dusty car a few -miles from El Paso, miles from Santa Fé. How perfectly appalling. How -had it happened? It was a bad dream and he couldn't wake up. Seven from -eleven left four--four days to get back. Four days to climb out of this -pit. - -Blake was kneeling and looking back at the road. They had passed a sign. -"Gin!" he cried, and his voice cracked with rapture. "Only eight miles!" - -Teddy slowed down, stopped, backed the car up and started the other way. -Back to Santa Fé and Mrs. Saville-Sanders. Out of the haze, the receding -mist, he heard a tiny babble of voices pleading with him, but they meant -nothing. He did not listen. - -"What's the matter? Where are you going? What is it?" - -Then Blake understood, and there was an anguished shriek. "Madden!" - -An incredulous, outraged cry. - -He stepped on the accelerator and his blood flowed faster as he felt the -road slipping by. Mexico was safely behind him. He was waking up. Who -were these people? He stepped on the gas. - -They fell quiet behind him. Blake had crawled over the seat and was -sitting with Gin, whispering with her. Teddy glanced at them in the -mirror, sitting with their heads together, and closed his mouth grimly, -clenching his teeth. - -It would be four days. Four days to drive with two sulking children, and -then he would be back in Santa Fé, safe. If he drove steadily it would -be shorter, maybe: three days if he had any luck. Three days if he -averaged twenty-five miles an hour. Only three days. - - - - - CHAPTER NINETEEN - - -On the back seat Blake crouched next to Gin and tried to think. He -looked out at the road, the same old road repeating itself, and tried to -know what to do. The wind blowing by his ears frightened him. He was -terrified of the stranger in the front seat. Things were happening too -fast; he could scarcely catch his breath. - -Couldn't he get Gin to help? - -He looked at her hopefully. He knew now that they must leave Teddy: the -madman in the front seat must be overpowered and left behind. He was a -traitor. The best of the adventure would be gone, with only two of them -left. It was hard, but it was not fatal. They could do it. He looked at -her, waiting for help.... - -Her eyes were fixed despairingly on Teddy's back, and she looked more -miserable than Blake himself, and as hopeless. He stared at her, and he -knew that he was alone. Something had taken the strength out of her. - -He was alone. - -He shrank back into his corner, bouncing as the car bounced. Something -was happening to his face. - -With a last spurt of defiance he flung up his arm to shield himself. - - THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Beginners Luck, by Emily Hahn - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEGINNERS LUCK *** - -***** This file should be named 43542-8.txt or 43542-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/5/4/43542/ - -Produced by Roger Frank - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Beginners Luck - -Author: Emily Hahn - -Release Date: August 23, 2013 [EBook #43542] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEGINNERS LUCK *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank - - - - - -</pre> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43542 ***</div> <hr class='pb'/> @@ -7674,379 +7641,7 @@ arm to shield himself.</p> <p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;'>THE END</p> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Beginners Luck, by Emily Hahn - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEGINNERS LUCK *** - -***** This file should be named 43542-h.htm or 43542-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/5/4/43542/ - -Produced by Roger Frank - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Beginners Luck - -Author: Emily Hahn - -Release Date: August 23, 2013 [EBook #43542] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEGINNERS LUCK *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank - - - - - BEGINNERS LUCK - - OTHER WORKS: - SEDUCTIO AD ABSURDUM - - TO - MITCHELL DAWSON - - - - - CHAPTER ONE - - -He stepped off the train at Lamy expecting nothing at all. He had no -idea of the city he was entering: what it looked like, how one passed -the time, what people one would know--it was all unexplored. He had -never in his life been west of Buffalo. Mary, his mother, had written -him a few letters about it, but she had not had time to write much, and -anyway she was very busy finding out for herself. Mary expected to -settle down in Santa Fe for a long time; it was good for her health out -here and she liked it. - -Blake, on the other hand, had no plans. He was not supposed to have any: -he was too young to have plans. Mary had plans for him, no doubt, but as -yet he had no notice of them. - -He stood for two forlorn minutes on the platform at Lamy, wondering what -to do next. A chauffeur--a stranger--found him and took him in hand and -put him away, with the baggage, in a new limousine. The limousine then -turned around and began to drive up a winding hill, toward Santa Fe, -Mary and revelation. - -It was a beautiful drive up a long hill, the road twisting and leading -up and down in an intriguing manner. Blake tried hard to appreciate it, -but his mind would not behave. It kept reverting to another theme; a -tiresome theme; a threadbare theme. His mind was an independent -disagreeable thing with a passion for theatrical revivals. Just now it -disregarded the beautiful heights of the Sangre de Cristo mountains and -devoted itself to a New England scene, the setting of an unpleasant -memory. Heedless of Blake's desire, it carried the props to the stage -and set them up. Wearily, Blake helped. Obediently he placed the -head-master's desk in the exact middle of the head-master's room, just -below the window that looked out on the front view of the school. -Doggedly he put the head-master into the chair behind the desk, and -sullenly took up his own old position before the desk, facing Dr. -Miller. Everything was ready, and with lifted hand Dr. Miller began the -dialogue: - -DR. MILLER: I regret the necessity of this more than you can possibly -realize, Lennard. Some day, I hope that you will remember this moment -and then perhaps you will understand the difficulty of my position. This -is a moment that I have been dreading, frankly, dreading for some -months. - -BLAKE: I'm very sorry, sir. - -DR. MILLER: It is a little late to be sorry. You must understand it is -too late. No amount of apology---- - -BLAKE: I wasn't apologizing, sir. I said I was sorry. I haven't -apologized. - -DR. MILLER: Very well, Lennard. I have written to your mother. I hope -she will understand that I have done my best. You will leave here in the -morning in time to catch the nine-thirty. Your mother telegraphed that -you are to go---- - -BLAKE: I know. She telegraphed me. - -DR. MILLER: I think that is all. Good-bye, Blake. - -BLAKE: Good-bye, sir. - -DR. MILLER: Once more, Lennard; I'm more sorry than I can say that this -happened. - -BLAKE: Yes, sir, good-bye, sir. - -Here, at the exit, his mind was most tiresome of all. Just here at the -original performance Blake had slipped while making his exit. He had -done his best to leave that part out of the repetitions, but the more he -struggled the more ridiculous became the by-play. Today the stumble was -worse than it had ever been: he slipped on the rug at the door, waved -wildly about as he tried to catch his balance, and ultimately, after the -most ludicrous contortions, landed on his neck in a Charles Chaplin -abandon. All of this went on just as the limousine turned from the Lamy -cut-off to the main road. Writhing in an agony of embarrassment, Blake -forgot where he was and said aloud, in protest to the tyrannical -stage-manager, "No, I didn't!" - -The chauffeur cocked an ear and Blake burrowed down hastily behind a -suit-case. He left the charade with relief and began to look at the -mountains. Up ahead there was a group of buildings that looked as if it -might be the outpost of Santa Fe. It occurred to him that he might ask -the chauffeur to point things out to him. On second thought he decided -to wait and pick up his knowledge in a different way. The effort of -breaking silence would be terrific. - -So in silence they rode down the hill into town, past the first little -adobe houses and then by way of the outskirts to his mother's house. He -liked the outside of it: irregular and old-looking, with a wall that -started at the side and enclosed--imperfectly--a garden. Mary heard the -car and came to the door, in quite a hurry. That was nice of her and it -made Blake feel better. He had expected to find the door locked. - -She kissed him and didn't mention school. She asked after his aunt in -New York, disapproved of his tie, and sent him to his room to get -acquainted. There were three pieces of furniture in it: a low bed with -straight brown posts, a light dressing-table, and a wardrobe. The walls -were painted a light yellow and he walked all the way around wondering -how to decorate them with murals. He would need a bookcase: he could -paint it himself, purple to match the mountains. But now as he looked -from the window the mountains were not purple. They were blue, a deep -expressionless color. They were like pieces of passe-partout about the -edge of the valley, cut out in great rolling curves and pasted over the -disorderly meeting of sky and land. He leaned out of the window and -sniffed. His nose expected an odor of pine and wet ground; instead there -was a faint parched perfume of burning wood and sunburnt clay. It was -almost dark. He changed his tie and went in to tea. - -Bob Stuart had come to welcome him. Sitting on the edge of a chair, -talking fast and gesticulating with his free hand while he steadied his -tea-cup on his knee, he looked all wrong out here. He was practically an -uncle and he belonged to another world. He was embarrassing to Blake; he -took from the adventure and the new world its exclusive adventurous -quality. Still, he had changed. A funny little man with all his ideas -coming in rushes, bubbling over in sudden gestures and rapid words, his -orange hair had gained a dignity and he was not just an amusing little -person. He was unique. After forty-some years of managing to hold his -own, Bob had become independent. It was as if he had waked one day and -stood in front of the mirror, probably with his stiff hair leaning the -wrong way and his nose comically pink and small above the striped -pajamas. Perhaps he had suddenly said to himself: - -"Well, that's the way I am. What are they going to do about it? I am I. -That's that." - -It must have been something like that. At any rate, immediately -thereafter other people saw a change in Bob. He had put on a velvet -shirt of vivid purple, white Mexican trousers, and brown sandals that -exposed his big toes to friends and enemies, and to hell with them. He -walked the streets of Santa Fe with his nose up, neither seeking nor -shunning mirrors. It was not at all the same old Bob who now shook hands -with Blake. - -"Well, well, well," he said as the hands went up and down. "And how's -the young rebel?" - -This was a difficult question. Blake simpered and forgot to say -anything. Bob made a benevolent groaning noise and patted him on the -shoulder. - -"You'll outgrow it; you'll outgrow it. Here, I have another young rebel -for you to meet. Teddy! Where has he gone?" - -"Huh?" Over in the corner some one was prowling about looking at the -pictures. He came out of the shadows and stood waiting. - -"This is Teddy Madden. He ran away from home and came here to find -himself and be a genius." Bob patted Teddy now, in the same fashion. -"You must be great friends. Teddy, this boy has just been expelled from -school. He's going to tell us why." - -Across the painful benevolence that trembled in the air, the boys looked -at each other and took stock. Madden was older. His legs and arms were -sure of themselves. But he was not quite grown up; his mouth was not -quite sure. - -"Teddy's a great artist," Bob said. "Artists always run away from home, -Mary. It's a law of Nature. Didn't they tell you that at school?" he -asked Blake. - -"No, sir. They never talk about artists at all." - -"Oh, come now." Bob leaned forward hopefully, with his tirade against -modern education all ready in his mouth. "Do you mean to say that you -didn't study Michelangelo?" - -"But that's not art," Blake said, in all sincerity. "That's Ancient -History." - -"And that's an epigram, my son," said Mary. - -Madden seemed pleased. "Whether it is or not, it's a good one," he said. -Very sure of himself, he stood by Mary and handed tea-cups around. - -Of all of them the tea-pot seemed to be the only one that expected -anything of the gathering. The others subsided and waited for the -tea-pot to make a remark that would start things going. Blake looked at -it almost hopefully, it was so authoritative. What would it say? Being a -member of the family, it had a good deal of license. Being of an -aristocratic and expensive shape, it would doubtless waive its right, -like Mary, and remain as composed and silent as Mary herself. This is -just what it did. - -Under his own half-developed sense of responsibility Blake squirmed. It -was all his fault. If he had not been here, the tea party would have -been an informal pleasant thing. If he had been in his own room studying -Latin or looking out of the window at the reluctant New England spring, -Mary and Bob would even now be talking smoothly, worrying about nothing -at all. If he had not been here, gripping his cup with an angry -defiance, Teddy Madden would have been free to go back into the corner -and read. Instead, here they all sat, looking at each other. - -Bob cleared his throat and said loudly, "Well, Blake, what was it all -about? Tell us what crime you committed. We're waiting." - -Mary looked distressed, but said nothing. - -"I guess Dr. Miller wrote as much as I could tell you," said Blake. - -"He wrote, of course, darling," said Mary. "He has a way of obscuring -things. We just couldn't make it out at all." - -"He writes an extraordinary letter," added Bob. "Extraordinary. Wasn't -it, Ted?" - -"Absolutely," said Madden. Blake was suddenly furious that Madden had -seen it. What business was it of Madden's? What had his mother been -thinking of? - -There were little pin-scratches on the wood of his chair. Some of them -formed designs; just next to his hand on the right chair-arm was a -lopsided fleur-de-lys. But the design in the cloth of his trousers was -different; eyed closely, it had the appearance of a family of brown -triangles turning their backs with one accord on another family of tan -triangles.... - -"Blake," said Mary gently. - -He answered, "Well, I'm just trying to think of what to say. I don't -know what the matter is. I can't get along with people, I guess." - -"What sort of people, darling?" - -"Any sort. Masters. Boys. Anybody. It's my general attitude." - -"What?" cried Bob, smiling. - -"My general attitude. That's what Dr. Miller said. He said I was -unsocial and spoiled and an irritant to the community." - -"Yes, yes, yes," said Bob. "But what did you _do_? He wouldn't have sent -you away for that. There must have been something more specific." - -"There wasn't, really. I had a row with the English master about a theme -because I left out some commas and they were putting it into the school -magazine and he edited it. He put the commas back in and ran some of the -sentences together so that they would be well-rounded, he said. I told -him he hadn't any right to do it. He didn't have, either. He said there -were certain rules of language, and I said, all right, I would make up -some more. He was sore." - -"What else?" said Mary. - -"Then there were lots of little things. Mother, I hate that place. I -told you, Christmas. I said this would happen." - -"But you promised to try, dear. Did you?" - -"I did try at first. There was a meeting in the auditorium last week and -there was a man there to talk. He used to be a friend of Roosevelt and -he was Miller's cousin. They always play the Star Spangled Banner and -you're supposed to stand at attention, and I didn't." - -"But why didn't you?" said Bob. Blake said nothing. He couldn't explain. -It had been a sudden rush of anger at everything; he couldn't put that -feeling into words for Bob. - -"Well, dear, and then?" - -"I was called up to Miller and we had a fight about everything that had -happened. There was something else; a silly old fight about making too -much noise in the library." - -Blake's eyes met Teddy's, and he thought he saw the other boy nod at -him. He was a little comforted. - -"Well, well, well," said Bob, standing up, "it's a revolutionary age. We -mustn't take these things too seriously, Mary. Remember, we all outgrow -it. I must be getting along. Come on, Ted. Remember Tuesday." - -He patted Blake's head, kissed Mary, and went out. Teddy nodded casually -and followed him. He looked a little embarrassed. - -Mary patted Blake's head, too, but she couldn't think of anything to -say. He put down a cookie on the table and said, "I'm awfully sorry. I -couldn't help it, honestly." - -"I know. But I'm a little worried. What will you do in the fall?" - -"Couldn't I stop trying to go to school? It's no use, really. Let me go -to work." - -"Don't be ridiculous, dear. What could you do?" - -"I don't know. Something. I don't want to worry you." - -"You know you don't worry me. I want you to find yourself." - -"Uh-huh." He twirled a button on his coat. - -"Well," she said, "we'll think about it. You spend the summer here and -get a good rest." - -"What's it like?" - -"Oh, I think you'll like it very much. There are plenty of people for -you to play with." - -"How are you?" - -"Better, I think. Doctor Browning says to be very quiet this summer, and -it ought to work wonders." - -"Who's Madden?" - -"That's a very nice boy. Bob says he is really talented. He's been here -since early spring; I think he worked his way out just so he could join -the art colony. So many of those boys do that sort of thing.... I think -that we might find another school for you, dear, or a tutor. It would -mean only one more year, and you'll like college." - -"No, I won't. I don't want to go. Please." - -"Well, we'll see.... I think dinner is ready." - -He almost fell asleep at the table. It was the fault of the fire, so -near his chair. He couldn't stop watching it. Along the cracks in the -charcoal, little blue flames walked up and down lapping at the air. The -room was filled with the faint parched sweet smell. - -Anxious to get to his room and to look again at the mountains, he kissed -Mary and went to bed. He undressed and lay down and turned to the -window. But now there was nothing but darkness; the sky was full of very -big bright stars and around the edge of the world there were no more -stars. Big shadows had blotted them out, but what shape the shadows had -or how far away they were, it was impossible to say. He drew his knees -up and rubbed the pillow with his cheek and closed his eyes. - -For a long time he could not go to sleep; he kept his eyes shut with an -effort, against the waiting mass of the mountains; he smiled and jerked -his pillow closer to his shoulder, with a nervous alert hand. - - - - - CHAPTER TWO - - -"And over there is Camel Rock," Gin shouted, trying to reach the far -corners of the bus with her voice. Just then the driver went into low -and made it more difficult. She sat as near the edge of her seat as she -could without falling off when the bus turned a corner and rocked a bit. -Eleven heads turned obediently towards Camel Rock. - -"See it?" she screamed. "See the hump, and the head in front?" Her voice -almost cracked. - -They all saw it at last. Those who couldn't at first were helped by the -others, standing up to look back at it while the bus went on. Gin sat -back in the seat again and relaxed, swallowing hard. There would be -nothing more to show them until Santa Clara; perhaps she could be quiet -until then. She looked around to see if anyone was nursing a grievance. -Would they expect her to keep talking in between the points of interest? -Sometimes people wanted her to, other times they preferred to sleep. -There was a fat man in the third seat who showed signs of being -difficult; the kind of tourist who wrote letters to the company after -the trip, commending and criticizing. Every courier lived in terror of -such a letter. - -"While I have nothing but praise for the courtesy and attention of your -driver, I am sorry to say that none of us were satisfied with Miss -Arnold's behaviour. She seemed distracted; she did not attend to her -duties. She seemed to lose no opportunity for disappearing from us; -whenever the occasion offered itself for her to wander off, she was -nowhere to be found. I am unwilling to complain about anything connected -with your excellent tours, but I must say that when I have paid an extra -fare of forty-seven dollars and fifty cents...." - -Gin took a deep breath and leaned forward to the fat man. - -"Do you like this road, Mr. Butts?" she asked tenderly. "It's quite -famous. The guests always like it. I do think that this is one of the -nicest trips we have, even if it _is_ included in the regular Detour. -The first and third days may be more educational, but today I think -you'll have a lovely time besides." - -Mr. Butts merely grunted, but there was a satisfactory reaction from the -old lady who sat in front of him. She turned and smiled nervously. - -"Isn't this road dangerous for the speed we're going?" she quavered. "Of -course it's perfectly beautiful. Mr. Butts, do look at that, right -behind you!" - -Mr. Butts turned his head resignedly and looked. The bus had come to a -place that gave a short glimpse of Santa Fe behind them, tiny and white -and scattered. It was immediately hidden by the dark turbulent waves of -hill around it as they drove on. - -"Pretty," said Mr. Butts in his brief way. - -Gin gave it up for the moment and settled back, fanning herself with her -hat. The bus was hot and stuffy, although all the glass windows were -open. She yawned and drifted off, thankful that she wasn't feeling -particularly nauseated today by the constant motion. Some of the girls -could never get used to it, but she seemed to be adjusted. She looked -around apathetically at the dudes and wondered if they were all as -stupid as they appeared or if it was because she needed sleep. Some -days, it was true, everyone was perfectly charming. Those were the days -that followed good healthy nights of sleep. There weren't many of them, -she thought ruefully. She often thought ruefully of her habits, but -never to the extent of changing them. No one did in Santa Fe when they -had lived there as long as she had. - -One of the crowd today wasn't so bad, she thought. She had noticed him -at the hotel office when he signed on at the last minute for the trip. -As skilful as the clerk in sizing up the tourists, she had put him -immediately in the pigeon-hole reserved for summer visitors who stayed -the season. He was no train-tripper. He probably lived in one of the big -houses outside of town, with a swimming-pool and a stable. A -nice-looking kid, just a baby, probably sixteen. Since she had not seen -him before, he must be new. Since he was wearing summer clothes of an -extreme carelessness--blue shirt and white trousers and no hat--he was -not a resident; residents of Santa Fe never admitted that it was a -summer resort; they tried to dress as if Santa Fe were New York. Well, -he'd be around now, riding around the Plaza, playing tennis with Teddy -Madden, looking scornfully at the newcomers after he had been there a -week, and talking learnedly of Indian customs. He was new, though: she -could tell it by the fact that he was taking a trip with her and looking -at everything with an ingenuous pleasure. She liked the way he looked -out of the window. He was taking it hard. - -It made her pensive and reminiscent: his youthful rapt gaze. She thought -of the first time she had driven out here, with the couriers' training -school. It had been raining; up on Baldy there was a light snow and -there was mist around Jemez. She had felt terribly excited. All the -other girls told her it was the altitude. Whatever it was, she liked it. -And then the bus had come near Espanola and the valley.... They were -almost there now; she watched the boy like a cat, to see what would -happen to him when he saw it. - -Yes, he got it. She knew it by the way his thin little shoulders jerked -and his head leaned back, closer to the window. She could just see the -back of his head, but she knew. When _she_ had first seen it, she had -cried. Probably the effect of the altitude, but why not? There was -nothing like it anywhere else. The valley was absolutely naked; bare -rock shaped in lumps on the bare sand, drowning in mists of vague -lavender and dark blue and thin brown and yellow, transparent colors. -The rock was shaped in pillars and blocks and squat cylinders, cut off -flat at the tops. It was all dead and ghostly. Nothing lived here. The -few scraggy clumps of juniper were not alive, for they were as ancient -and dusty as the rocks, and as motionless. - -It was only for a few miles. Beyond, the land lived again, flushed to -foliage by the lazy sandy river. Back of all of it were the real -mountains, with pine forests and trout streams, but now while Gin and -the boy looked at them they were too far off to be green; they were dead -dark blue. - -"My, that's gloomy," said the cheerful lady from Chicago. "Miss Arnold, -is that land good for anything? Does the government own it, or what?" - -They crossed the wide white bridge to Espanola and followed the road -through a rocky country, bearing down on the ugly round buildings that -housed the Government schools. Approaching Santa Clara, the driver -honked his horn loudly to warn the pottery-venders. By the time he came -to a stop before the church, in the dry yellow plaza surrounded by -square adobe huts, the women were filing out to the clear space in the -centre, carrying their pottery on their heads and swinging baskets of -smaller stuff--modelled animals, black-painted, and bead belts and -necklaces. They walked serene and fat, surrounded by children and yellow -dogs. They sat down in a neat half-circle before the bus and spread -their wares out, impassive or smiling in their cotton shawls and long -smocks. Eleven potential customers climbed out of the leather chairs and -looked curiously at the big black bowls and the brown faces. - -The men of the party were already saying, "That would be fine for Cousin -Sally," and the women were saying, "Now, John, be careful. We've just -packed the trunk as it is; we can't buy everything we see," when Gin -slipped away. She hurried around the corner of a house and walked down -one of the many back paths, trying to get away before someone asked her -to argue with an Indian about the price of the bowls. She stopped at one -of the screen doors and peeped in. Her friend was at home, making a bowl -in the middle of the whitewashed clay floor. - -"Oh, come in, Ginny," said Rufina, pushing a chair with her feet. "I -heard you coming. How are you? I haven't seen you here for a week. Been -sick?" - -"No, they sent me to the Canyon all of a sudden, and I just got back -yesterday. How's all the family?" A sticky little girl, pursued by -flies, climbed up in her lap. - -"Not so good. My mother is still sick, but she is getting better. Did -you bring many people today?" - -"One full load, that's all." - -"We have been busy. Yesterday there were so many. Two buses and other -people coming by themselves, all day." - -Outside the door a bulky shadow fell. It was the lady from Chicago, -reconnoitering on her own. Gin wondered if she had been walking into any -of the houses without knocking; it sometimes had an oddly infuriating -effect on the Indians. - -"Oh, there's Miss Arnold right at home in the middle of them. Come here, -Eddie, here's the cutest thing. I want you to take a picture of it. -Look, here's an Indian making a pot right in her own house. Isn't that -darling? Would you think that you were in the States?" - -"Come in," said Rufina. They stepped over the threshold and she sat back -on her heels, smiling blankly. - -"Oh, look," said the lady loudly. "A baby too, right in Miss Arnold's -lap. Perfectly adorable. Miss Arnold," she asked, whispering in a small -shout, "aren't you afraid of catching things? Her hair...." - -Gin said that it was time to go back to the bus. She held open the door, -waved good-bye to Rufina hastily, and went back to the marketplace. -Eight of the dudes were back in the car, and Blake was waiting for her -with a new purchase to show her, a turquoise ring. - -"Let's see it," she said, and he took it off and handed it over. - -"Why, it's quite nice," she said. "Did you buy it here?" - -"Yes, that man over there was wearing it and I asked him if he wanted to -sell. Is it really good? I liked the colour of the stone." - -"The green stones always look nice, I think," she said. "Nice and old. -They're not the best, of course," she added in low tones. "You probably -paid more than he expected, but it's good-looking, I think." - -It was not ethical to tell any dude that he had paid too much, but he -didn't seem to care. He liked the ring, that was all. Summer people -always collected jewelry in a serious way--they liked to have heavy -bracelets sitting around on the tables or shelves in a careless, opulent -manner. The old timers scorned it. - -Now the other ten were sitting in the bus, and on Mr. Butts' face was a -look that meant, "Must we wait all day while that hussy flirts?" - -She took her own seat, thinking that she would get Mr. Butts yet. - -They were growing a little impatient about lunch, she thought. The long -drive up to Puye, around a hairpin turn that made the Chicago lady -squeal for three minutes, distracted them a little from the idea of -food. But not much. On top of the plateau while they were exclaiming -over the view she thought of something that might get the wedge into Mr. -Butts. - -"In November," she said as they entered the forest, "there are wild -turkeys here. Lots of the boys in town shoot a couple during the -season." He grunted, but turned to look again at the neat wooded lawns. -"He's slipping," she thought hopefully. - -The cliffs of Puye were nearer: pale yellow in the pale brightness of -the air. Higher and higher they went, round big curves that pulled them -closer to the caves with every sweep. She showed them the caves---- - -"See those dark spots? Those are the cliff-dwellings we came out to see. -Yes, we'll see them much closer than this, Mrs. Jennings. We're going to -climb right up; right up there." Mrs. Jennings squealed a little. She -had them already, Gin reflected; she had all of them but Mr. Butts. How -long would he take? - -They swarmed over the rest-house when the bus came to a halt. - -"Lunch!" she cried gaily. Mr. Butts seemed unimpressed. The hostess -called her into the kitchen and whispered, "I'm at my wits' ends. Will -you please put it into your report again tonight? I simply cannot manage -without another maid. I'm sorry, Gin, but I don't think you'll have much -time for your own lunch today. Would you mind eating it afterwards?" - -Gin carried plates and glasses back and forth from the kitchen to the -living-room. Mrs. Jennings offered to help in a very sportsmanslike -Western manner, but she was refused. Gin was horrified at the idea of a -dude stepping into the kitchen. The hostess worked furiously unpacking -the lunch that had come on the back of the bus; jellied soup and salad -and apricot pie. - -"Gosh, I get sick of this soup," said Gin disconsolately in the kitchen, -talking to the cook. "It's worse when I have three trips to the same -place in succession. Some day I'll start bringing my own lunch." She -walked over to the window and watched the dudes disporting on the porch, -fully fed and happy, teasing the rest-house puppy. Mr. Butts looked -dour, however. He hadn't been able to eat the apricot pie or the -sandwiches because he was on a diet. "That fat one," she told the cook, -"is pretty bad." - -The cook looked over her shoulder and agreed heartily. "They all travel, -that kind. Nobody will keep them at home. Have some more coffee?" - -"No thanks. We'll have to be starting. Well...." With a gesture of -tightening her belt, she walked out to the porch. "Well, people, are we -ready to go?" - -"Where to?" asked Mr. Butts. - -"Right up there." She pointed to the stone-stepped hill behind the -house, with the caves at the top of a long climb. Mr. Butts seemed to -hesitate. "Curly's going," Gin added, nodding to the driver. "Aren't -you, Curly?" - -"Sure thing. I'll take care of you." - -Mrs. Jennings was the first to step forward. "All right; if Curly can -make it, I can." - -Mr. Butts' masculinity conquered, and he set out without further -discussion. Blake had evidently gone on ahead; they could see him at the -top with his hands in his pockets, looking around in a very pleased -fashion all by himself. - -There is a steep ladder at the top of the hill which leads from the -slope to the flat summit. It sometimes causes a lot of trouble to people -who have not caught their breath while they study the caves. Two of the -ladies in Gin's party looked at it fearfully and refused to climb it at -all. They proposed to go down again to the rest-house, and said that -they were satisfied with what they had seen. This feminine timidity -spurred Mr. Butts to a genial teasing attitude. He laughed at the -ladies; he taunted them; he essayed the ladder and found it easily -conquered. From the top he persuaded them to be brave and come along. -With pushing, pulling, lifting and pleading, they all managed to get -there, and they gathered in a triumphant panting group about Gin, -talking of mountain climbing in Switzerland and taking pictures of the -ladder. She gathered her flock about her on the wind-swept summit and -lectured on the glory that was Puye, waving to the piles of debris that -once were houses and pointing out the dry water-hole. They walked the -length of the village and peered into the excavations. They looked down -upon the distant top of the rest-house. They stood up straight and -breathed hard and gazed for miles over the tree-tops to the distant -mountains, which did not look so high as they had before. Blake -sauntered away and looked for bits of pottery. And Gin kept a wary eye -on the red face of Mr. Butts. - -"Yes, he's slipping," she told herself. - -Afterwards they started home, a long silent ride that was uninterrupted -except for a short visit to Tesuque. They were too tired to take much -interest in Tesuque, which after all was just another Indian village. Of -course, there was old Teofilo. Teofilo was a great help with his -professional attitude of glad-hander; he greeted all couriers with the -same glad surprise, although he saw at least one a day, and he was more -than willing to show his scarred head, which had once been scalped. He -loved to have his picture taken. - -Then, the rest of the way was quiet. The dudes arranged their cameras in -their laps, peered around at the bigger pots stored in the back of the -bus, and settled down to doze. The afternoon waned and the shadows -lengthened across the road and the mountains darkened. In town, Curly -manipulated the bus through the narrow streets and stopped before the -Palace of the Governors, now a museum. - -"We stop here to see the Museum," Gin shouted through the bus. "Indian -relics and paintings and the chair Lew Wallace wrote 'Ben Hur' in. -Afterwards we walk back to the hotel." - -"Good-bye," said Blake suddenly, and climbed out. Off across the Plaza -he sprinted; he could be seen intercepting Teddy Madden just as he was -going into the drug store. Gin looked after them and wondered if Teddy -had made any attempt to call her that morning. Perhaps she had better -call him and remind him that they had a date. He was so forgetful. -Mechanically she ushered the dudes into the Palace, then to the first -room on the right. - -"Now, here we have a model of the place we saw yesterday. See, here's -the ruined church...." - -But if she called Teddy, Harvey would answer the phone and might think -that she had called to speak to him. Had she a good enough excuse for -calling Teddy? Was she justified in assuming that they were good enough -friends? Oh, to hell with that. There was no reason why she shouldn't -call him. - -"This is the Frijoles room. Frijoles is one of the places we have for -private tours. It is very lovely and very famous: it's all excavated. We -take it in one-day trips or two: there's a hotel with cabins for rooms. -It's most interesting. It has cave-dwellings similar to what we saw -today, but they're in the walls of the canyon instead of being on a -cliff. There's a little model of the kiva; see, like the ceremonial cave -we saw today." - -With a guilty feeling, she came back to the business in hand and -listened to herself talking like a Victrola. That was no way to act. One -must put oneself over. Mr. Butts was looking at the pictures on the -walls with a thoughtful eye, a competitive eye. She smiled at him, -glowing with all the force of her personality. - -"I'll tell you what effect that has on me, Mr. Butts," she said -confidentially. "When I stand there in that canyon I get the queerest -feeling." It was true, that was the worst of all, she thought. The idea -of telling him! "When I'm there I can't help feeling that the people who -used to live in those caves are still there, in a way. They're being -very quiet, and looking at me." She paused and stared at him with wide -eyes. "It's silly of me, isn't it?" - -Yes, she had him. He looked down at her and thought about Frijoles and -the dead cave-dwellers, and he looked at her again and thought of the -lost ages when men were men, and of the ladder he had climbed today, and -of the letter he could write home about it. She knew it. She had him. - -"You do?" he asked, and there was actually a kindly glint in that fishy -eye. "So that's how it makes you feel, does it?" - -He rubbed his chin. He looked at her and saw her as a person instead of -a courier, a person who had watched him climb that ladder. There would -be no letter to the company. She had him. - -"Well, well, well," he said jovially. "Well well well." - - - - - CHAPTER THREE - - -The Madden boy was worried about his laundry. It was a week late, he -couldn't remember who was doing it for him, and besides he was having -one of those moods that made him worry about little things. It was not -so much the tragic lack of socks, he told Harvey Todd, but there were -three shirts in it that belonged to Bob Stuart. - -"I hate not returning people's clothes," he said. "I hate wearing them -in the first place but this time I couldn't help it. It's maddening." - -Harvey never rose to the heights of hysteria, and this time he was -almost phlegmatic. "It'll be along," he said. "Don't forget, some of it -was mine. I'll help you yell when the time comes. Jesus, I'm late." He -slammed down his cup on the table, between a broken tumbler and an eggy -plate, and hurried out of the door, carrying his hat. - -"Canaille," said Teddy humorously. "Cochon," he added into the mirror, -scowling fiercely. - -"Senor?" asked a tremulous voice at the door. A little girl held out a -huge bundle as he opened the screen. "Eighty-four cents," she said. "My -mother says she can't find one sock. She send tomorrow." - -"Oh, yes? Well, tell her I'll pay then." - -"Si, senor." There was boredom and cynicism in her tone as she turned -away. Teddy's eyes narrowed; he thought of challenging her, but what was -there to say? He shrugged and forgot it, sitting by the table and -looking vacantly at the unopened bundle. The sun crept up his leg and -his kneecap began to prickle pleasantly under the linen trousers. He sat -still until the bundle blurred and moved gently out of itself, -projecting a phantom bundle an inch away from its own crisp outlines, -hovering a little above the shining top of the table on which it had -lain. He dreamed; a good picture like this, with the checkered -table-cloth and the spots of sunlight.... A fly bit him savagely on the -ankle and he stood up. - -The picture waiting for him must be finished today or he would hate -himself. Last night he should not have stopped after working up to it -all day. Had he gone on, it might have been really good. Could he ever -do anything really good? Why couldn't he get immersed, and forget people -and money and his own fading flesh? He looked at the easel and felt that -he would never see it as it should be; he almost wept from exasperation. -There were so many interruptions. There was his own careless -incompetence, and his eternal itching to see people and to have people -love him, and there was money. Money.... A familiar panic began to rise. -He seized a brush and set to work. - -It wouldn't go. He moved about distractedly, trying to clean up the -room. The dirty plates were piled up in the sink; he made a few dabs at -them and changed his mind. He looked apathetically at the stiff spotted -table-cloth and hung up a leather coat that had slipped from its nail. -Then he caught a glimpse of the painting from a new angle; a real -feeling of interest persuaded him to get to work again. - -Another hour was coaxed out of eternity. The sun crept farther into the -warm house; out in the street was a growing rush of motorcars and -sometimes a clatter of hoofs; the tap in the sink dripped with a -cheerful chiming splash on the tumbled china. He whistled and painted. -Beginning to feel cramped, he took a short walk around the room, keeping -a wary eye on the canvas as if it might take flight with his spasm of -energy. It was clear again; he saw just what he wanted and perhaps he -could do it. But not just now. - -"Stale," he said aloud to his conscience, and his voice sounded choked -and rusty in the empty room. He would do something else for awhile. -Shave? The idea of putting on water to heat seemed impossible. Wait till -later; plenty of water at Bob's. He leaned to the mirror and rubbed his -chin thoughtfully, wondering how he would look with a beard. Bob -wouldn't like it. That reminded him of the shirts and he untied the -laundry, sorting it out and hesitating sometimes, sock in hand, between -the two piles of segregated underwear, his own and Harvey's. He always -gave himself the benefit of the hesitation. But it meant nothing: Harvey -would ravage his store at the first necessity. - -The work impulse was quite dead. He felt relieved, as though he had -flung a small morsel into the maw of his conscience, but otherwise there -was no twinge of energy. He tied up Bob's shirts and put the last -unbroken record on the rickety little Victrola, borrowed one evening -from Gin and still unreturned. They needed records: the Lennards had -good records. Blake kept up pretty well; he probably just walked into a -place and bought up everything. Pretty soft for him. - -Well, one could make out by snuggling up to the big houses, riding in -their cars and going to their parties and drinking their liquor. One -smothered the occasional fever of hopeless malice. They couldn't help -being lazy and easily pleased and careless. If only they wouldn't try to -be critical about painting. There must be things they couldn't have; -there must be. - -"When I am rich," he thought, and then, "but if I never am?" - -He paused with a clean towel in his hand, and looked around. The room -was still the same, small and bare and cluttered and dirty. Outside the -window was a blue mountain-peak beyond a broad dwindling stretch of -juniper-dotted sand, but around his house there were other little low -houses, mud houses sinking in the mud of the road. He turned slowly -around, looking hopelessly at the yellow walls and at the tiny -fire-place spilling pine ash out on the floor. The picture was shining -wetly and tiny knobs of paint on the canvas shed tiny shadows. He -frowned at it, stepped suddenly closer and examined it carefully. - -The letter-box outside clanged in closing, and he heard the postman -going away. More bills? Perhaps there would be something else: he -decided to see. There was a letter from home, from Minnesota. - -The very sight of the postmark sent a heavy lump to his chest. If he -didn't open it? If he dropped it into the gray ashes by accident, and -waited until Harvey had burned it in the evening? Busy with the thought, -he moved his hand up and down balancing it, weighing it. To open it -would mean the day lost, with all his work ruined. He would read it and -then flee from the close little room, searching madly all over town for -someone--anyone--who knew nothing about Minnesota or families: someone -rich and lazy and lucky and dumb; some stranger. Burn it; burn the next -one and the next and the next. Burn it. - -With a despairing glance at his mountain, a farewell glance, he tore it -open and found a check for ten dollars, blotted a little and somehow -nibbled at the edges. The letter was on blue-lined paper. From the -little square sheets rose an almost visible feeling, like smoke; the -room was steeped in Teddy's guilt. And yet it was a nice letter. - - "Dear Teddy," his mother had written, innocently enough, at the - old brown desk in the front room. "I don't want to scold you in - this letter because I know it is hard to find time to write when - you are getting started, I thought that I would have to tell you - that your father gets worried. I tell him not to be foolish as I - am sure if anything had happened we would be notified right - away. He worries about everything these days because business is - not very good. We are very well except for a cold that has run - through the family, I hope you are taking care of yourself, I - can't help thinking that you are too young to be so far away. - Tommy's report from school is a little better than it has been - especially on spelling. There is not much news, the Dibbles are - having a hard time with Kenneth, I am afraid he is a wild boy. - Tommy saw him Saturday night with that girl at the drug store - and they had been drinking. I am so sorry for Mrs. Dibble, I am - sure if a son of mine acted like that it would kill your father. - He was saying this morning he could probably speak to Mr. Larsen - about your working in the store here, I tell him it is more - likely the country that is the attraction out there, the picture - you sent is very pretty. Please write even a postcard, your - father worries. I enclose something to help out, you don't need - to mention it when you write because your father is worried - about the business. - - Lovingly, your - Mother." - -The Madden boy put the letter down on the table and walked around the -room, thinking. The first few minutes were always the hardest. He -reasoned with himself frantically, trying to get rid of that lump in his -chest. He hated himself; more than that he hated his mother. It was not -right to make him feel so guilty. It was not right. People don't stay -home. His father had not stayed home. He had run away to Minnesota; if -he happened to marry and have children, why should they stay home? - -Oh, forget it, forget it. There was the check, now. A boy in a book -would send it back with interest. He couldn't do that. He couldn't just -send it back like that and hurt her feelings. The only frank, honest, -brave thing to do was to keep it, in the face of all families, all -feelings, all outworn nests and prisons. This was his city, these his -mountains. Somewhere in America there was a woman who had borne him, but -everywhere there were children being born. What about it? He asked his -mother that. What about it? Oh, damn. - -Someone threw a rock against the door. Furiously he tore it open and -looked out. - -"Oh," he said, "it's you. Come in." - -Blake Lennard, it was, sitting on a norse and wearing a huge Stetson. He -looked light-hearted and absurd, but shy. He started to climb down. - -"You're up?" he said. "No one else seems to be. I've been riding all -over town trying to find my way. What I thought was that maybe you would -like to ride; there is another horse up at the house. I had it saddled -in case I found anyone. I want to see what it's like around here. Are -you too busy?" - -"Fine, no, come on in. I'll be ready in a second." The hysteria had -departed. Until the next letter. Meantime there were all the playboys -and the parties. - -Blake stepped in, looking around with equal interest in everything, the -bed with colored blankets tossed in the middle and the dusty bits of -art. - -"Is it yours?" he asked, looking at the picture. "I like it. Don't you? -It's almost finished: weren't you working on it? Didn't I really -interrupt?" - -"No," said the Madden boy, crushing a piece of paper and throwing it -into the fire, "I wasn't going to finish it. Chuck me that boot, will -you?" - - - - - CHAPTER FOUR - - -Gin dropped her suitcase to the porch with a loud sigh, fished in the -rusty mailbox to no avail, and fumbled with her key at the lock. The -door swung open at her touch. She stared at Flo, who was garbed in the -green kimono that was signal of a rest-day, and who stared back in -gloomy impassivity. Her lips were puffed and her eyes were red. - -"Hello!" cried Gin. "Why are you here?" - -"Well, guess." Flo shuffled over to the sofa and a pile of stockings -that needed darning. "I got up early this morning and went down to the -office, all ready and waiting. I've been packed for two days, I was so -excited." - -"I know." - -"Well, the cars all lined up and everybody came except three of my -dudes. They were a family. I guess they just decided not to come, -without any notice. It was so late that Mr. God just put the other one -into Rita's car instead, and they sent her, and told me to go home. That -means the third year running that I've missed out on the Hopi country." - -"Oh, you poor thing!" In all Gin's rush of indignation she was afraid to -say more. With her mouth open, waiting to pour forth incitement to -rebellion, she looked at Flo's miserable face and turned instead to her -suit-case. The purple velvet blouse went into the rickety wardrobe, but -after a quick survey of the rest of the contents she closed the bag and -pushed it into the corner, ready for tomorrow. - -"Gee, I'm sorry," she added over her shoulder, draping her suit-coat on -a hanger. - -"Oh, well," said Flo heavily, "I'll be over all this by tomorrow, I -suppose. I've been as sore as this before. I'm just mad because I turned -down a date for tomorrow night and now I'll be in town after all, -probably." - -"It's a rotten deal. Call up and say your plans have changed. Where are -the cigarettes?" - -"On the table behind you. No, I'm not going to call up now. I'm ashamed -to do it; I talked too much about the Hopi trip. I might as well give up -trying to keep any contacts in this damned town. They're always being -mixed up. What sort of crowd did you have?" - -"Ghastly." Gin sat down on the couch and propped her feet up, taking a -long comfortable puff. "It was a married couple with a kid and an old -lady who kept saying, 'Now, young woman, tell me what I'm going to see!' -Whenever I tried to tell her she'd look over my head with a patient -expression." - -"I can just see her. They come in packages." Flo picked up another -stocking and spread her fingers out in the heel. "Gin, I'm fed up. -Really." - -"Naturally," said Gin, as comfortingly as possible. - -"No, it isn't just that. I've been thinking over the whole situation. -I've been here since the beginning of the Detour: I've had three years -of it. Where am I? What have I got out of it?" - -"What have you got?" Gin smiled and watched the smoke. "Oh, you've got a -swell Navajo belt." - -"Yes, a belt and a half dozen shirts I wouldn't dream of wearing if they -weren't part of the uniform, and a lot of silver junk that I'm sick of -looking at. I'd sell it if I didn't need it for the effect." - -"But of course there's the experience. Many a girl of your age is -hanging around in New York or Chicago trying to catch a husband so she -can stop playing the typewriter eight hours a day. This is fun. Honestly -it is: think of the city, and the dirt!" - -"Experience." Flo pronounced it carefully, with a burlesque tone of -rapture. "You like that word. It's the same thing as adventure, isn't -it?" - -"Just about." - -"Yeah. I used to have ideas about adventure, too." - -"Oh, you're old and weary. Forget it." - -"No, I'm telling you an idea. I think that adventure isn't worth a damn -unless you can talk about it afterwards. It's all in the story. I know." - -"Well, go ahead and tell the story. Who's stopping you?" - -"Who wants to hear it? The couriers don't want to hear about it; they -have the same thing every day. I can't talk to the dudes about it. They -just want to hear how many Indians are born every year." - -"Or if the couriers aren't Mexican, really. Or how many stamps to use on -letters to Chicago. Well, tell your friends. They enjoy it." - -"What friends? I haven't any." - -Gin was tired of it. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Flo. Snap out of it." - -"But I haven't. Who on earth would take the trouble to go on being a -friend of any of us when we're always leaving town? It takes too much -energy. As soon as I make a dinner date the office deadheads me to -Albuquerque to wait for some railroad official who's taking a free -vacation to the canyon or something. People get tired of that. No one -ever asks me for bridge any more. I never have time to write letters: I -don't even feel like it. I bet a soldier gets just this way, living in -training camp.... The only people I ever see in any connected way are -the other girls and the drivers and the Indians. And the nigger in the -lavatory on the Chief, when I'm on the trains." She broke off the thread -and rolled up two stockings. "We're pathetic figures. Don't you realize -it? I've been realizing it all day." - -"Have it your own way," said Gin. "In my artless fashion I thought I was -enjoying myself, but have it your own way. Have a drink." - -"I don't care if I do." - -Gin went into the kitchen, knelt down before a cabinet that was shrouded -in a cretonne curtain, and pulled out a glass keg of corn liquor. She -poured out two small glasses and went back to the living room. - -Flo tasted hers and said again, "I'm fed up." Gin watched her curiously -and felt a little depressed. Sometimes she too had a feeling of -hopelessness; it was probably the same thing now with Flo. Were they -coming to her more often lately? Would she too become chronically tired -and aggrieved? How long before she began to indulge in that dangerous -game of wondering what it was all about? She drank the corn -thoughtfully, thinking about her first days here. It had all been fun, -but most especially, she remembered the party the old girls had given -for the new, when they had begun to tell their favorite stories about -dudes. There was the girl who gave them the list of W. C.'s available -for every trip, and made them practice how to ask the gentlemen if they -needed them. - -"You don't really need to say anything to them. You just say to the -nearest woman in a loud whisper, 'Would you like to...?' and they'll -watch where you go, if they have any sense." - -Then there had been the last lecture, when Mr. God gave them a little -talk on the aims of the company and ended his address with a delicate -plea for--well, for what? Sobriety and morality, probably. What he said -was, "I need hardly add that we assume that every girl is a _lady_, in -the best sense of the word...." - -They had giggled at that, all the way back to the apartment. It _was_ -fun, the whole idea; tearing over the countryside all day and not -knowing every evening where you would be the next night. Flo was tired, -that was all: it would pass---- - -"We might cut up tonight," she said aloud. "There's a new movie isn't -there? Or would you like to hire a car and go out of town somewhere? -Come on, let's do that." - -"Don't be an idiot," Flo grumbled. "It costs too much. I don't know if -I'll last till next pay day as it is. I tell you, though, we might get -dressed up and eat at the hotel instead of fixing something here." - -"Yes, that wouldn't be bad. Is there any hot water? Oh, wait a minute." -The phone was ringing: she ran to answer it and called back, "Flo, it's -Tom and he says it's going to be moonlight. He and Wally want us to go -up the canyon for a picnic. Should I tell him we'll fix the supper?" - -Flo frowned, as usual, and protested. "But there's nothing in the -house...." - -"Now, don't be that way. We can send for something. It'll do us good. -Come on." - -"Oh, all right. Who's going?" - -"Just us and the cowboys. Tom says he can have the horses here by seven. -Hurry and make up your mind, he's waiting." - -"It's all right with me." She hesitated, struggling with her woe, then -hurried into the kitchen and started to slice bread. - -They were well on the way by the time the moon appeared over a dip in -the range of hills to the east. The night air was warm; in the moonlit -darkness their shadows were grotesquely different in size. Tom's hat was -the largest thing about him; it swept in a beautiful curve above his -sharp face. He rode ahead of the others, glancing around to talk to Flo, -who followed stiff and a little ill at ease in the saddle, perpetually -thinking and talking of her horse. Gin and Wally rode side by side, but -Wally was immense and the horse he rode was also immense: when Gin said -anything to him she had to look up. She didn't say much: Wally was in a -reminiscent mood and kept the conversation going without any help. - -"I mind at one of the shows at Cheyenne," he said, "the judges was just -beginning to catch on the wild cow milking trick. I won out because they -caught everybody else." - -"What is the trick? I never heard of it." - -"No, they don't do it no more. You've got to show milk in the bottle to -win: the first one who gets to the stand with milk in the bottle wins -the money. The boys used to carry milk right along with them, in the -bottle, in their pocket, and make a few motions at the cow with it and -then run along to the judges' stand. It was just a race really. This -time the judges was watching out and they felt the bottles and the milk -was cold so that let them out." - -"And yours wasn't cold?" - -"Oh no," said Wally. "I'd been carrying the milk in my mouth: it was -right warm. That was the only money I took at that show." - -The creaking of the saddles and the mixed beat of the horses' hoofs -added to a peaceful rhythm of night noises. Passing a farmyard, a little -black dog darted out with fierce yaps and Gin's horse jumped nervously -and started to trot. The other three fell into the stride; gathering -speed, they cantered up a rise in the road and swung around a bend into -the canyon itself. A light breeze met them. Gin closed her eyes, giving -herself up to the feeling. She was thinking about Teddy. It was a good -thing she had managed to get out of the house tonight. She'd been -spending too many evenings waiting for him to call up. - -"Probably this is one of the evenings he'll decide to call," she -thought, and tried to be glad that she wouldn't be there to answer the -phone. "When I see him again I'll tell him I was in town, and that'll -show him that I don't always wait for him." But would it do any good? -Would it have any effect, and if so, what effect did she want it to -have? She couldn't figure out how she felt about him. He exasperated -her: she always made up her mind to quarrel with him next time she saw -him--perhaps a quarrel would break down his easy, lazy indifference to -everything--and then when she saw him, she always forgot. It was only -when she wasn't with him that she was so exasperated. Silly to feel -anything about him at all. They didn't know each other very well: they -hardly ever saw each other. She wondered whether to speak to Flo about -it. But Flo had no use for the Camino crowd at all: she refused to -consider them human. "Nuts," she called them, and forgot all about them. - -The soft ceaseless flow of words from Wally and the loping horses pushed -Gin into an exaltation, after a little. She was part of the Western -world at last: not the West of the daytime where people brushed their -teeth and went to offices, but the real West that existed in the -fifteen-cent magazines on drugstore racks and the old films that were -shown at the theatre Saturday nights. - -Baldy slowed down suddenly to a walk, stopped by the horses ahead of -him. They all hesitated a moment, then followed Tom's lead and turned -down a path that led to the canyon river. - -"I remember a good place along here," he said, and they splashed and -waded to a flat plot of ground with a few bushes leaning over from the -slope. Here they swung off and tied the horses, gathering a few small -logs and sticks. - -"We brought coffee," Wally said, "so as to have a fire." They had -brought something else too: a bottle of milky liquor that Tom claimed -was tequila. - -Gin disagreed on principle. "You're crazy. There never is any tequila in -Santa Fe. Every time some bootlegger goes wrong on his gin he sells the -batch to cowboys and calls it tequila." - -"I brought it myself from Juarez," said Tom. "It ain't gin. If you don't -want it, pass it up. I can use it." - -Flo said bravely, "Well, I'll try it. I need something new to get -cheered up. I don't care what it is. If I get sick they'll have to let -me off the trip tomorrow." - -"Oh," said Gin, "I didn't say I didn't want it. Hand it over." - -They munched sandwiches and cake in silence. Gin tasted the drink and -silently admitted that she was wrong. It might not be tequila, but it -was something very strange. It had a chilling effect at first, and after -each swallow settled down in her stomach like a stubborn little lump of -lead before it seemed to melt and spread. The others finished the food -before she noticed: there were only three limp jelly sandwiches left. - -"You made them," said Flo, unkindly. "Eat 'em. I told you not to. Have -more coffee." - -"She don't want coffee," Tom interposed. "Give her the bottle." - -Flo said in a discouraged tone, "It's having no effect whatever. I -thought I could get happy tonight and forget my troubles, but I'm just -the same, only worse." - -"It always acts like that when you set out for a good one," said Wally. -"One night last year I started out for a three-day party and I kept -going all night and went to bed in the morning cold sober." - -"It's a strange life," Gin suddenly said. She hugged her knees and -rocked backward, staring at the sky. "People trying to make themselves -crazy with bottles of poison, when everything is all right as it is." - -"What's that?" Wally looked worried. - -"It's a strange life," she repeated. "Everything is peculiar. Don't you -think so? Really, don't you?" - -Flo sighed audibly. "Leave her alone; she's off again." - -"But it is," Gin persisted. A messianic zeal possessed her: she must -convey the message in her soul or die unappeased. The moon, the bushes, -the beautiful silent horses, all waited with an understanding patience -while she spoke to these scoffers. "It is," she said again. "Here I am -sitting by a fire out in the middle of Nature, wearing pants and -drinking tequila. I mean here I am, and ten years ago--five years ago--I -was living in cities and wearing skirts and now here I am. It's -wonderful." - -"That's all right," said Tom. "Of course it's wonderful." - -"It's so peculiar. Can't you see?" Her eyes filled with tears; her soul -filled with a passionate sensibility of life and all its lovely factors; -the moon, the fire, the horses.... She stretched out on the ground and -put her head on her arm, thinking it over. - -Tom rose to his feet, leaned over her, and pulled her gently by the arm. -"Come on, Gin. Come on back to town with me and we'll get some more -funny thoughts." - -She stumbled after him in the dark and let him untie the horse and help -her up to the saddle. They cantered most of the way home; as they swung -through the narrow streets at the edge of town she peered through the -windows, catching quick flashes of lit rooms with quiet women sewing, or -standing at stoves, or washing dishes. Suddenly she felt desolate and -lonely, envious of these people who had homes and dull quiet duties. - -Tom waved her in to the living-room while he led the horses to the -corral. "You wait there and think about life." - -She sat on his camp cot and reflected. It was a big bare room, with a -bearskin and a beaded vest on the wall for decoration. There was a table -with a Victrola and several bottles, and on the window-sill there were -stacks of the little fifteen-cent magazines with pictures on them of -bucking broncos and cheering cowboys in furry chaps. The last of the -West was here, in these dude-wranglers with their tall stories and their -horses. Now she was sad with a tender melancholy, and somewhat sleepy. -What were they all looking for here in the mountains? Why did they come? -She shook her head. - -"Now," said Tom in the doorway. "What's it all about?" He handed her a -glass. "You ought to feel better with this," he said. He sat down next -to her on the bed and put his arm around her. "What's eating you?" he -asked gently. "Tell me about it and you'll feel better." - -Her face buried in his shoulder, she answered, "Nothing. I feel sleepy. -I'm all right." - -"Sure nothing's the matter?" - -Again she shook her head. - -"Well," he said, "I think there is. You don't come around as much as you -used to. You've been running around with that funny crowd, the queer -ones." - -"Why, Tom!" With exaggerated indignation, she sat erect and stared at -him. - -"Sure you are. I saw you at the show the other night with Madden." - -"He's not queer," she protested. - -"He ain't? Then I don't know anything about queer ones. Take your -medicine there." - -An hour or so passed in jerks; quick lovely spaces of time with the -Victrola playing and short horrible periods that dragged on for years, -when she relapsed into stupidity and stared at the beaded vest and tried -not to talk about life. She saw Tom once in a while, as it were, looking -at her and grinning in a monotonous way: she leaned against his shoulder -in an unpleasant spell of dizziness, and it was there that Flo found her -when she came stamping in with Wally. She heard Flo's sharp voice. - -"Look at that! Did you ever? We'd better get a taxi." And in the car -that crept through the dark streets she sat up suddenly and said, "Well, -I seem to have done it instead of you." - -"You did," said Flo. "Lie down." - -"I'm all right." She sat up and tried to put off her remorse until next -morning. "Where are the boys?" - -"I made them stay at the stable. It's too late for them to come out." - -"What time is it?" - -"Three o'clock, I think." - -The house was squat and ominous in the dark; the moon had long since -set. Gin crept to bed by the light of the reading-lamp; she felt somehow -that the bright light would outrage the hour. Her head felt very light. -It wouldn't next day. - -"Flo," she called across the room, after she had settled down. There was -something to talk over with Flo. What was it? Too much trouble.... - -"Oh, for heaven's sake! What is it?" - -"I'm perfectly sober," Gin said. There was no challenge and she -continued, "But just the same, life's peculiar." - - - - - CHAPTER FIVE - - -Mary and the camp-chair sank down together for two inches. Then the -chair squeaked and stopped giving in: it stayed where it was in space, -poised above the throng of Santo Domingo Indians and dusty crabby -tourists like a throne, disregarded on the pueblo roof. - -"Well," she continued, when she was sure the chair had come to rest, "I -do know that I'm at my wits' ends. I'm desperate." Casually, she drew a -handkerchief out of her raffia bag and folded it over her nose, against -the dust. - -Bob answered, "You wait until you've talked to Lucy Parker. Don't give -up hope at this stage. There's such good material in the boy; you -mustn't give up hope." He felt that he hadn't said quite enough, but he -was tired. Mary was exactly like a sack when she was in a crowd, he -thought a little furtively: limp and useless. Dragging Mary and a -camp-chair was very fatiguing. His eyes hurt in the sun but he fought -against the impulse to put on the sun-glasses in his vest pocket. Mary -looked so odd in hers. - -From the plaza beneath there came a confused roaring: a mixture of -singing and soft-beating drums where the Indians were dancing to the -music of the chorus, heavily overlaid and swamped by a loud conversation -going on between people squatting before the house. Bob craned his neck -to see over the heads of the Indians who blocked the view. He was trying -to find Teddy. - -"It's Blake's fault," said Mary, understanding him. "He's always running -off like that: this time he's taken Teddy with him. It's very rude of -him. I must speak to him again." She readjusted the handkerchief and -settled the glasses on her nose. "This dust. I think he's a schizoid -personality, don't you? I spoke to Brill about him. If I sell that -Patterson property perhaps I might have him analyzed. But he seems so -prejudiced against it, and I don't want to force the child. What do you -think?" - -"Brill? Analysis is a wonderful thing. Yes, that might help." He broke -off and waved violently. "There's Lucy now. Lucy! Confound these drums. -There, she's coming over." He settled back in relief. He was never at -his best with a surrounding audience of less than three or four. He -loved people and more people; the more the better. There was no limit to -his capacity for company; if he should ever have to live completely -alone he would go mad. The frantic boredom that had possessed him with -Mary grew more peaceful; slowly and completely died as he watched Lucy -pushing a way toward the ladder that leant against their roof. She was -followed by her daughter Phyllis and her daughter Phyllis' friend Janie -Peabody. Good! Soon there would be activity and noise on the roof around -him, and other people would look up to the chattering crowd and say to -each other, "That's Bob Stuart." - -The three women climbed the ladder carefully, with upheld skirts and -cautious feeling of the toes. - -"Ah-h-h, Lucy," said Bob lovingly, lending a hand at the last rung. -"Phyllis. Miss Peabody. Lucy darling, we were just talking about you. -You are to tell Mrs. Lennard everything you know about the California -school. She wants to find a school for Blake--you know, Blake." - -"My school?" Lucy sat down cross-legged on the roof and lit a cigarette. -"Certainly. Tell me if you want it and I'll write you a letter tonight. -I should think it would be just the thing for you. Phyllis was such a -problem before I sent her there. They always are difficult at a certain -age, don't you think?" She turned and flicked an ash at Phyllis, who -ignored her by chatting with Janie. - -The singing fell to an abrupt end and in the silence shuffling feet were -heard. Over an array of backs, fidgeting sweaty backs, they saw green -branches jogging, being carried out of the plaza. A fluttering wisp of -red shirt moved in the same direction, seen in little jerks as it passed -between two fat ladies in khaki hats. - -"Oh," cried Mary, "it's over, isn't it? I haven't really seen anything -of it." - -"No, no," Bob said soothingly. "They start again in a minute. What was -all that at your school about psychoanalysis, Lucy? Tell her about it." - -"Won't she be bored? I always forget the other people may want to watch -the dance. It seems impossible that anyone here could be seeing it for -the first time. How many times have we seen it, Bob?" - -"Oh, I couldn't say. It's nothing to what it used to be. I remember a -dance at Jemez that I stumbled on by sheer accident. It was in the old -days when I was collecting. I was taking a trip to San Ysidro to get a -blanket--you could still pick up good things in those days. I was -driving with poor old Gertrude and we suddenly turned into the village -and there it was. Very shocking." - -Lucy leaned forward and ground out her cigarette against a stone. The -sun was paling as if the air had grown suddenly thick. Behind a high -yellow sandy cone back of the town, a black cloud peeped. - -"Tell us about it," said Lucy. Down in the plaza the singing swelled -triumphantly. - -"I couldn't really. They were having something ceremonial and private--I -don't know just what. There were baskets of fruit and plates of food; -the men made obscene gestures with the bananas. Fertility and all that, -I suppose. Gertrude was as white as a sheet; she screamed and drove away -as fast as she could, but they didn't pay any attention to us. I was -helpless with laughter. You can imagine Gertrude." - -"It's a wonderful story," said Lucy. "I should have heard it before. -Gertrude never mentioned it to me, but naturally she wouldn't. Well, -Mrs. Lennard...." - -The singing stopped again. - -"Now is it over?" - -"No, that's just the end of the first clan's turn. There'll be a lot -more before they call it a day.... It's a small school; only a hundred -or so, and they have a staff psychoanalyst and all the masters really -make a specialty of _understanding_ the students. Very modern, of -course--you must see the art work. It's coeducational but not in any -silly communist way. I mean it's individual. Do you understand what I'm -trying to say?" - -"I think so. It's very interesting to me, because Blake is such a -special case...." - -Lucy nodded deeply. "It's a school for special cases; that's the real -idea that's behind it all. The woman who founded it is wonderful. I'll -give you a letter for her. Oh, look, there's Teddy. Teddy!" She -scrambled up and stood on tiptoe, waving. "Of course he'll never be able -to hear me with all this noise." The singers were chanting in a high -falsetto. - -"He's too busy with the courier, mother," said Phyllis. "He can't hear -you over all those people. Well, my dear, he was quite angry with me. -Have you ever seen him really angry?" - -"Never," said Janie. - -"I was almost frightened," said Phyllis. "Of course I don't really care -what he thinks of me, but it was unpleasant for a few minutes. Tell me -what you heard about him in New York." - -"Oh, it wasn't anything definite. They talk so in New York, I think. -They always say the same thing. I just heard that he gives terribly -amusing parties, my dear, with all of that crowd. And no one is quite -sure about him because he's seen with people like that all the time: of -course no one thinks anything of it any more, and I do think that if a -person is amusing I don't think a person's private life ought to have -anything to do with it, but what I heard was." - -"This atmosphere is simply marvelous for young people," Lucy was telling -Mary. "The combination of healthy outdoor life and the peculiar feeling -one gets out here of history--the Spaniards, and the Western pioneers, -and all that. And the wonderful Indian culture. They imbibe something. -Everybody here is so unusually appreciative, haven't you found it so?" - -"The only flaw is that we're getting to be so famous," Bob added. "It's -ruining the place. I wish the authorities would pass a law prohibiting -all these buses and trippers and outsiders. Nothing kills a place as -much as the outsiders." - -"I feel the same way," said Lucy. "I'm afraid I'm really snobbish about -all those visitors. What can they get out of it?" - -Jane was saying, "But I'm just going to hold out with what I have until -I get back East. You can't tell what people are going to be wearing this -fall until you look around. It doesn't matter so much here, but...." - -"Do you see Blake anywhere, Bob?" said Mary. - -"Don't worry, he'll turn up at the car. He doesn't seem to be with -Madden just now." - -The crowd was growing sparse. Over the hill beyond the houses cars were -leaving in streams, each one silhouetted against the green sky before it -crossed the mound and disappeared. As the day faded the land grew wider, -more desolate. Under the threatening rain-heavy sky it looked parched -and ferocious. Irritated squawks of automobile horns mingled with the -thrumming singing voices in the plaza. - -Lucy looked down at the people who were hurrying to the cars. "There's -Isobel. How very badly she dresses. Have you heard what they're saying -about her engagement? Gwen was telling me...." - -"Mother says I can go in August if I insist," said Phyllis. "I'm not -sure I want to go at all: it's a very dull season, I believe." - -"Oh, you _lucky_." - -Now there were such a few people left that Blake was in sight, leaning -against a ladder at the far corner of the plaza and gazing ahead of him -in a bemused way. The dancers were filing out, going in a listless -straggling line to the kiva beyond a row of irregularly outlined houses -on the other side. The sun was setting behind the clouds and in a few -minutes the prayer for rain would be answered. A fresh damp wind was -blowing down upon the village. - -Green branches and dry rattles carried by the koshare. They walked -slowly, now that their work was done, towards the kiva. Beyond the -houses they came into sight again, climbing the hard white steps to the -roof, pausing against that green sky as they started down the ladder -into the round little house. Red shirts and blue shirts followed with -the drums, and a low singing went with them. - -"But as Gwen says," Lucy finished, "there are times when Isobel is so -vague that God knows what really did happen. _She'll_ never tell the -real story." - -Mary stood up and put her glasses back into her bag. - -"I'll never forget it," she said. "A most beautiful picture. Absolutely -inspiring." - - - - - CHAPTER SIX - - -Again evening had overtaken Santa Fe before anything happened. Every -morning Blake woke with a furious desire to get out of the house and -down to town, so that he would not miss anything. He never knew what it -was that he expected, and day after day developed into the same -uneventful solar round. Nevertheless every morning brought with it a -tense expectation, a silent waiting. - -Tonight he wondered fretfully why the fever was not allayed. It had been -a full day, exciting and tiring. The whole town was tired. The drums -were still beating in his ears: when he closed his eyes he tried to see -the rows of stamping people and the waving branches: but instead he kept -thinking of the crowds that filled the village _plaza_; old ladies in -felt hats sitting on the roofs, their fat legs dangling over, their fat -hands waving to other old ladies on the opposite roofs.... - -"Missing so much and so much," he murmured, and felt a little revenged. - -And the keen young people so greatly to be envied, who knew -everything--hatless, collar-less, sparsely bearded young men with folded -arms and languid looks; wispy, eager young women; officious, anxious, -sweating couriers in jangling silver. And the broad khaki backs of the -motor tourists. Around and between them the frantic, shocking, stunning -leaps of the ghost-men appearing through the gaps. The drumming in his -ears; he was shaken and irritated and cheated: he wanted to cry. - -"But our lot crawls between dry ribs to keep its metaphysics warm." Did -that have anything to do with it? "Always the appropriate thing." In a -gust of fury he kicked a pebble far up the pavement, spinning and -skipping. - -The waiting was not satisfied. Perhaps he was not, after all, the only -one to feel that way. The plaza, dark in the centre but lighted around -the sidewalk, was full of people looking for something. It was a small -plaza, insufficient for so many prowling people, walking round and -round. - -In the shadows of the north side he found Madden, lounging on a bench -and more or less waiting for him. - -"We'll have to go to the cafe," he said, as Blake came up. "Everything -else is jammed. I'm not hungry, are you?" - -"No. I ate dust all day. Did you smell that jerked meat?" - -"Oh, that. You'll get used to that." - -They crossed the plot of grass and elbowed through the procession on the -walk. The cafe was crowded too. Only half disappointed, they loitered at -the door, peering in at the restaurant until they drew a hail from -Harvey and Gin, who had a booth. - -"Come on over," Harvey said. "Plenty of room." Gin gathered her skirts -and edged to the wall invitingly. Blake glowered at her, representative -as she was of the whole jostling day. - -"I saw you there," she told him, "looking very fierce. I'm sorry. You -might have pitied me a little, and you didn't. I know you didn't: I see -it in your eye." She smiled teasingly and he felt a little mollified. - -Harvey moved his knife and fork to make room for Blue Plate Number -Three, and said, "What're you kids doing tonight? We're looking for -excitement. Come along? I've got the car." - -Teddy suggested the movies. Blake demurred; he tried to explain that he -had wasted far too many of his evenings in the movies, but the others -didn't understand. He couldn't tell them that the evenings would be rare -and strange and historical if they could only manage them properly. -Defeated, he followed them to the theatre and watched an ancient -railroad cinema. - -Oddly enough, it was Harvey who was tainted by his discontent. As they -straggled into the street afterwards he said: - -"It's always the same thing. Let's get out of the old town. Let's...." -he paused. - -"Let's go for a ride," Gin said. "There's nothing else." - -Certainly there was some surcease in going fast and having nothing to -do. Blake sat on the back of the seat, perched on the rolled-up top; the -wind was strong with a little bite to it, and he closed his ears and -tried to listen without seeing. It was almost perfect. The little lurch -his body gave for no apparent reason--that would be a curve in the road. -The roaring in his ears that came and went and came again--that must be -a canyon. The louder the hum of the car, and a slowing-down of wind that -was a hill, and there was a scent the wind that could not be anything -but pines growing on the mountain side. Now they turned off on a rough -road; he swayed and would have fallen if he had not opened his eyes. - -Madden saved him by grabbing his arm; they called to Harvey to go easy. - -"We're trying to find our way," Gin shouted over her shoulder. "We're -lost." - -"I know that already. Say, for Christ's sake...." Madden stopped and -seized the side of the car as a bump almost threw him out. Blake slid -down to the floor with a jerk, and the engine stopped of its own -fatigue. - -"Something's wrong," said Harvey. "Something certainly is wrong." He got -out and stooped down in front. "High centre. We'll have to dig out. I'm -glad I brought the shovel. Where are we anyway?" - -No one knew. It was late and getting cold: they huddled down in blankets -and decided to wait for the moon before trying to get out. - -"This is better than town, anyway," Gin said. - -Madden cried indignantly, "What do you mean, anyway? This is _great_. -Look at the stars." - -It was very quiet. Closing their eyes, they tried to stop shivering. -Harvey searched in the side-pockets and found a half bottle of corn, -which helped a little. In a sentimental voice, Gin began to sing: - -Once in the dear dead days beyond recall When on the world a mist began -to fall.... - -The others joined in, howling away in a canine ecstasy of grief. They -were silent afterwards, revelling in a misty regret. Then Madden began, - - Tu eres Lupita divina, - Como los rayos del sol. - -Blake hummed along with him, filling in the gaps in his memory with an -ambiguous gibberish. Harvey contributed, - - She'd a dark and roving eye, - And her hair hung down in ringlets, - A NICE girl, a DECENT girl (here his voice cracked) - But one of the rakish kind. - -Then they had "Lord Geoffrey Amherst," and in spite of many protests, -Gin sang doggedly to the end of "The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi." - -To the east there was a pale white glow in the sky, outlining the hills. -Blake saw a glimpse of the moon. He cried out his discovery, and the -heavy white ball lifted into the sky to the accompaniment of four fresh -young voices rising out of the valley, chanting, - -"God bless the bastard king of dear old England." - -They stirred themselves and began to dig in the sand. After a while they -freed the car and it seemed to work all right. Harvey backed it out and -retraced his wheel-tracks to the edge of the main road. - -"Now where?" - -"Anywhere," said Madden, waving grandly. "Out into the world." He -hoisted himself up to the back again: Gin followed suit in the front -seat, and the three balancing figures jogged and reeled as Harvey drove -on toward Taos. It was almost as light as day. They passed one other -machine: driving on in the path of the headlight glow they waved and -shrieked until a curve cut it off. Blake drummed with his heels on the -leather cushion in a burst of exhilaration. - -They left the main road and followed the way to Frijoles Canyon. The car -went slower, going through rivers with a cautious swoop and turning -corners on all four wheels. Long shadows lay across the silver-splashed -fields. It seemed impossible that all the light could be coming from the -moon, that was now only a little ball swimming in clouds up toward the -centre of the sky. Everything but the car was motionless and asleep. -Houses with blank dead eyes crouched by the road. No dogs ran out to -race with the wheels. - -Blake sank back into the corner of the seat. His head dropped: the -shadows blurred and the sound of the engine was more stupefying than -silence. He reached with stiff fingers for a blanket, curled up in it -and fell into a sort of sleep, his elbows braced against shock. In his -dream he was still in the car, riding steadily through the river at -school or across baked yellow plains, arguing with Dr. Miller. Sometimes -he jerked and waked up, glanced worriedly at Gin's head against the -cushion ahead of him, and closed his eyes again. The night was fading. - -The car stopped and he woke up completely. He sat up, blinking, and -stared at Madden, who was kneeling by the ditch and fishing in the water -with a hat. - -"What is it?" - -"We need water," Gin explained. Her bare knees were propped up over the -door, and she powdered her nose vigorously. "We couldn't find anything -to use for it. I hope that's not your hat?" - -"No," he assured her. "It's been kicking around in this car for a long -time, I think." - -Making no effort to climb out, he watched Harvey pour what water he -still had after crossing the road into the radiator. Sullen and -efficient, the other two climbed back and sat still. They all looked -drowsily at the sky. The moon had faded from silver to white: down on -the earth the glow had disappeared and there was no colour anywhere in -the rocks. Everything was black or white or grey. - -"Like a steel engraving," said Teddy, "but much more so." - -They were in a jumble of rock, chalky-white rock that was broken off in -great chunks and piled up into mountains. The ditch emptied into a river -that crossed the road farther down and crept off into a ravine of -thick-growing juniper, black in the thin light. - -Gin blurted, "It looks awful. I hate being in canyons." - -They agreed not to drive any more. Blake suggested climbing something. -They aimlessly picked out a hill and began to crawl up the side, leaving -the car somewhat askew in the road. It was easy to get half-way up; -there the climb grew steep and difficult. For a little while no one said -anything; they worked in deep silence, holding out their hands to help -each other whenever they could. When they climbed over the last boulder, -they were puffing. They walked to a ledge that faced the east and sat -down to wait for the sun, shivering in the wind. - -Gin sighed ponderously, lay down with her arm under her head, and went -to sleep. Harvey curled up next to her with his arm protectingly over -her head. He snored and rubbed his cheek softly against the rock. - -"I wonder what time it is," Teddy said to Blake. "I've never felt more -awake." - -They sat in silence for a time that felt like a century. Their legs hung -over the sharp edge of the flat hilltop. Blake kicked softly against the -rock and a fine powder sifted down. - -"This is swell," he said. - -"You bet." - -He looked at the cruel edges of the hills and the shadows between them, -sinking deeper and deeper in the clefts, and he thought, - -"I have only two months." He pushed the shadowy hills out of his mind -and thought of the train-ride East, the smell of rooms that had been -closed all summer with school books locked up inside, the first classes -with roll-calls and reading lists in mimeographed sheets. He felt a -little nauseated. - -"Mother says I've got to go to some school in September," he said aloud. -Before him were the hills again, and Teddy sitting next to him. - -"Oh, well," said Teddy, "start worrying in September. This is July." - -"That's only two months. I won't go, that's all. I won't." - -"Well, don't. Don't ever do anything you don't want to do. Look at me." - -"Yes, but you're different. No family." - -Teddy was silent a minute and then said, "That's so. It shouldn't make -any difference, though, if you really know what you want." - -"But I don't. Does anybody? Do you? I just know what I don't want. I'll -blow up if I go back to school." - -"Sure, I know what I want. I want...." he hesitated, chewing on a -pine-needle. "I want time to work in peace, and a chance to see new -places. I guess I want money. That would fix things. Then I could really -do everything I haven't time for." - -"What sort of places would you like to see? India?" - -"Yes, and some of Europe, and North Africa. I've always wanted to paint -in Algeria." - -Feeling guilty, Blake said, "Oh, I've been there. It's not so -wonderful." - -"You've been there?" said Teddy angrily. "Why, you lucky little fool." - -"But of course I've been there. Mother had to go for her health, and of -course...." - -Madden, oddly excited, shook his fist at the air. "Of course, of course, -of course. You people who say 'of course.'" - -Blake stared at him, mystified. For a cold moment he thought that -perhaps Madden hated him. Then everything seemed to calm down: Teddy -laughed and spit the pine-needle down between his dangling feet. - -"Come with me when I go away, then," he said, "and see if you can get a -kick out of that." - -"When?" Blake was eager. - -"Oh, I don't know. September's a good time. Call it September. We'll -drive somewhere." He shook his head and laughed again. "I'm getting -nutty. How can I dig myself out of this hole? Damned cesspool." He -closed his eyes against the black and white panorama and went to sleep. - -The sky was getting red. In a minute there would be a sunrise: Blake -tried to concentrate on it. People never saw the sunrise: people ought -to look oftener at sunrises. Even one a month would be better than none -at all. Some day he would change the system and live at night: he would -finish his day with a sunrise and then go to bed immediately. - -Like this. Was it going to be red-orange, or gold? The clouds across the -sky, on the other side, were beginning to flush near the sun. Where was -the sun? Everything was waiting for it. Somewhere a few miles farther -east there must be someone looking at it right now. All day there were -sunrises somewhere in the world. A few hours ago there had been one in -Algeria, and none of the people in the hotel there would have seen it. -There would be a few servants coming to work in white robes growing pink -in the red light. But here on this rock in New Mexico one person would -watch it. Blake Lennard Watches Sunrise. He pulled his feet up and lay -down facing east. - -Suddenly the sun was there, but the four huddled bodies on the high rock -did not move. - - - - - CHAPTER SEVEN - - -They all woke at once, perhaps because a bird screamed as it flew over -them. Teddy sat up so swiftly that he almost toppled off the edge. He -stared wildly about him, trying to remember. The other three propped -themselves up on their arms, with tousled hair, and faces marked by the -rock. It was as if they had been carried to another place while they -slept; this was a green country with another sun shining down on it, a -second cousin to their sun; small and high and cheerful. He had a -confused feeling that he must have been drunk. No one spoke: they were -all waiting. Then, as if she could not control herself any longer, Gin -giggled. - -"Gee, we look funny," she said, and broke the spell. "What time is it?" - -No one had a watch. They stood up, groaning and helping each other. One -by one, with grim sensible expressions, they disappeared behind a rocky -crag. They all used Harvey's little black comb, and slowly worked up -enough concerted impulse to climb down the hill. It was not so easy as -it had been to climb up. - -His shoes scuffed, his toes jammed into the ends of them, Teddy walked -blindly over the sand, leading the straggling procession. A luminous -exaltation possessed them all, shining from their faces, defying hunger -and sleepiness. He tried to put it into words in his mind, in a -hysterical stream of phrases.... "Companions of the night ... black wind -and the freedom of motion.... Away from the earth, here in fresh-born -sunlight, we are new again and shining. The true artist, the true man -lies down where he happens to be, like an animal, and sleeps as he -wishes...." He stumbled on a sandy hummock and felt a little dizzy. - -They climbed stiffly into the car. Gin was obsessed with chatter: she -talked of her hunger, her disordered clothes, her lame shoulder, in a -gay high voice that had nothing to do with what she was saying. Harvey -watched her sombrely and silently. Her hair hung loose around her -shoulders: she tried once to twist it up but it fell again: in the wind -it streamed out sideways when they started to move, and whipped back, -catching Harvey on the cheek. She was beautiful, Teddy thought. He said, - -"If you wouldn't turn out to be such a 'Saturday Evening Post' girl, I'd -paint you." - -"I will anyway," cried Blake. "I'll paint all of us. It will be a -frontispiece to 'Treasure Island' and we'll all be disgraced." - -"We are disgraced," she cried joyfully. "Paint us, paint us." She leaned -over the side as limply as she could, imitating a corpse. "Dead, dead, -dead," she murmured. A roadster full of staring tourists passed in the -other direction, and swerved as the driver turned for a last look. - -"Wheeee, it's late," said Teddy. "When do we eat? How far are we? Where -are we?" - -Suddenly Gin screamed and then sat still with her fist to her open -mouth. - -"What's the matter?" they all asked. - -"My job! I forgot. How could I?" - -"Ooo," said Blake. "And it's late." - -"How could I?" - -"I think it's charming," Madden answered. "It's darling of you. I love -to have people forget important things. It's good for your soul." - -She shook her head impatiently, her eyes wet. They were all subdued. - -"Take me to a phone," she said suddenly. "As soon as we get to town I'll -call the office." - -"Don't worry," said Harvey, "Flo probably had a brainstorm and called -them already. Is she in town today?" - -"I don't know. Well, never mind. Breakfast!" - -They came into town with a wild swoop. At the little cafe Gin rushed for -the telephone and found that Flo had committed the necessary perjury. -She returned radiant to her coffee and fried eggs. - -"I've been trying to do a poem all night, I think," Blake was telling -Teddy. "I dreamed the beginning of it and added a lot and it was very -good. Now I've forgotten most of it." He laughed. "There are just two -lines." - -Teddy ordered, "Let's have them." - -"They're silly. They don't mean anything." - -"Well, let's see." - -"Just this. - - "Your narrow eyes roaming desireless - Skim cruelly the arid desert sands. - -"There was a picture that went with it of a figure on a mountain top." - -"I'll draw it," said Madden. - -Harvey snuffled in scorn and looked side-wise at Blake. - -"I don't feel at all like going home," said Blake. "We ought to do -something else now." - -"Let's go to Taos," said Teddy. - -Gin cried out in alarm. "You do what you like, but take me home first. -I'm down for Lamy this afternoon. Are you trying to ruin me?" - -"I'm going to work," Harvey said decidedly. "Let's get going." - -They put Gin down first, while she tried feebly to tuck her hair up -before she ran into her house. From the depths of the house they heard -Flo, shrill and abusive, as they turned the car in the narrow street and -headed for the Lennards'. Blake fell silent and thoughtful as they drew -near home. - -"On second thought," he told Harvey, "it might be wise for me to walk -the last few steps. Mother may be excited. I hope she went to sleep." He -stepped lightly over the door and advanced bravely to the house: the car -turned discreetly and went toward town again. - -Harvey was grumpy on the way back. He dumped Teddy at the door of their -house and drove away again silently. Already the day seemed tired. -Languid and a little depressed, Madden unlocked the door, carried in the -warm bottle of milk, and lay down on his bed. - -His telephone rang late in the afternoon and woke him. Confused and -feeling guilty, he stumbled over to it and answered the call in a -cracked, sleepy voice. - -"Hello, Hello? Teddy Madden? Dear boy, where have you been? This is -Bob." - -"Oh, I was asleep. Just a minute----?" he lit a cigarette. "I say, am I -due up there tonight? I've lost track of time." - -He was, Bob assured him a little indignantly. Moreover, he was late for -tea. - -"I'll be right up," he said. He hung up the receiver and before doing -anything else, sat quietly in the half-dark, his head in his hands. - -"Gosh...." Waves of gloom had overtaken him at last; after being outrun -for a week they had caught him. Reasonless, they were; or at any rate he -had too many reasons to worry; none at all for this persistent -depression. Bills, conscience, perpetual hangover--he ran them over in -his mind, but there was no answering twinge as he called them out. It -was something else; something that followed every jag of happiness. It -was as much a part of this play town as the other, pleasant, excitement: -a gnawing whimpering nameless anxiety that was waiting for him whenever -he sat alone in the dark. It took gigantic effort to call the cab-stand. - -"Harv? Madden calling. Listen, Harv, send a car round right away, will -you? Here, of course. No, home. Oh, charge it." - -Harvey expostulated in a mechanical, hopeless manner. "I got to tighten -up on you, Madden. Listen to reason. Do you know what you owe here?... -All right, but if you wait ten minutes, I'll be home and run you up -myself. Oh, all right. I'll send Ben: he's turning into the yard now." - -"Thanks. Look, I'll pay right now." - -"You and who else?" asked his room-mate wearily. - -Turning into the Stuart driveway, however, he solved the problem. Bob -was standing on the porch superintending the parking of another car, and -strolled down to meet the taxi. - -"Got any change, Bob?" asked Madden: and the two bits were forthcoming. -He walked into the house with a virtuous feeling, into a small crowd of -people. Mrs. Saville-Sanders was perched on a window-seat, holding forth -to Mrs. Lyons and a strange woman in a hat. Mrs. Lennard was talking to -Phil Ray and stopped to smile at Teddy as he entered. Nothing wrong in -that quarter, then: Blake was all right. There were other people just -coming in; not very good friends of Bob, to judge by his attitude. Teddy -poured himself a drink and sat down by Mrs. Lyons, who patted his arm in -greeting. - -She was a nice old thing, he told himself again. She was one of the few -stands he took against public opinion. Most of the people in Santa Fe, -that is, the people he ran with, made fun of her. She was not quite -bright, they argued. It was always just a few minutes before they said -anything really serious that Teddy would protest, - -"Well, I like old Ruth." - -He really did. She was kindly, credulous and restful. She was generous. -She was maternal. If she was a little smug, the only difference between -her attitude and Mrs. Saville-Sanders', he said to himself, was that she -had less money to be smug about. The other thing was that she was a -native daughter and had a tangible husband. He was a popular artist who -took himself quite seriously and made a cottage-and-garden living by -executing big colourful murals of Indians wearing the wrong kind of -moccasins and shooting arrows at conventionalized mesas with all of the -shadows on the same side. - -Teddy would say, "Of course, Tommy's _work_--but I like old Ruth." - -Gwendolyn Saville-Sanders was busy getting people to do something about -Santa Fe. Gwendolyn, unlike old Ruth, had been coming out here for only -three years. Before the war did so many horrible things to it, she had -spent her leisure and a lot more in Fiesole: before she was told about -Fiesole it had been Switzerland. But Gwendolyn had begun to take up -America in a serious manner. She was a little behind other people in -doing it: many others had brought back treasures of Indian handicraft to -their Eastern homes before she had seen the writing on the wall and -hastened out to Art's new headquarters. Now that she had found it, -though, she was making the most of it. Gwendolyn was slow on the uptake, -but thorough. Her three years of discovery had been swift and ferocious: -already her collection of Navajo silver was the largest in America (not -counting the museums) and her Chimayo blankets were famous. As for the -tin candle-sconces, it was no less than wonderful, the number she had -salvaged in the short time she had had. - -No necessity here for Teddy to say, "Well, I don't care, I like old -Gwen." One liked Gwen as a matter of course. As soon as she left a room, -becomingly cheerful in farewell, one murmured, "Isn't she marvelous?" -or, "Isn't she perfectly grand?" The thing that counted in this matter -was that Gwendolyn should say after you yourself had left the room, - -"I like that Teddy. He's a nice boy." - -As yet she had not said it, at least Bob had not reported it. So Teddy -sat down next to Ruth Lyons and listened. - -She was steamed up about Fiesta. - -"I think that we need something for the last night, to raise the curtain -on the Ball," she was saying. "I think that a bazaar might be the thing, -or a play. Why don't you write a play, Teddy?" Her voice, terrifyingly -loud, rang out through the room and everyone turned to listen. That was -what she wanted. "Write a play," she insisted. "You bright young people! -You can do it. Write a play and I'll put it on in my garden." - -"Your wish is my command, old thing," he said. Bob walked over and swung -an arm around his shoulders, saying, - -"That's the right spirit, Teddy. We'll all help." - -Gwen smiled and changed her mind. "Or a vaudeville. A vaudeville would -be easier and we'd please more people. Ruth, you must tell Tommy to do -the sets--we'll get _all_ the artists to do the sets. And the Native -Element will be able to help. They're so histrionic. The Indians and the -Spaniards and all that. Is that settled? Good: I must go. Bob darling, -pick out a committee. I must go. Where did I put my bag? It's all -settled then; a play. No, a vaudeville. I _must_ go. Teddy, come to -lunch tomorrow. Good-night, Ruth. Goodbye, everybody, I must simply -fly." - -They all flew except Teddy and Philip and the stranger with the hat. -They were going to dine, Bob said, and then play bridge. The stranger -was a puzzled frightened woman from Austria who had come over to paint -Indians. She was going on to Japan to paint cherry-blossoms. The Indians -were an interlude between cherry-blossoms in Japan and chestnut blossoms -in Paris. Teddy remembered seeing some of her work in the Modern Wing of -the Museum; he had thought then for a few stormy moments that they had -no business being there, and now, looking at her, he was sure of it. She -was open-mouthed and passive under an onslaught of information. Bob -loved to give information about his country. - -In the dining-room they chatted thus: Bob shining with happiness. His -dour Mexican maid served the soup. - -"You have mountains too, of course," he said, and Miss Kolbenhayer -nodded. "But I always think that it is not the mere rocks and stones and -trees that make the mountains. Here we have something else to contend -with: the smouldering forces of the American Indian." - -Miss Kolbenhayer's soup-spoon stopped at the edge of her plate. "But -here they are quite tame, is it not so?" - -"Unfortunately they are, for the most part," he admitted. "It is the -mixed breed that is prone to strange outbursts. Things go on here ... -religious frenzies ... crimes of innocence.... I suppose no one had told -you of the Red River crime?" - -No one had. - -"Now, there's an instance." Bob gave up the soup proposition for the -evening. "A girl from the East with her newly married husband and a -guide went on a hunting north of here. They met a sheep-herder, a -Mexican. A mere boy; sixteen, I think. He came up to their camp-fire one -night. It is the law of the mountains: they gave him food. The next -morning he went on with them and they gave him a gun to carry. Now, he -had noticed the girl, and he wanted her." Bob bit ferociously into the -cracker and repeated, "Wanted her. So he shot the husband." He stared at -Miss Kolbenhayer. - -Flo twisted around and looked, "Hmmm. Shot the husband and the guide. -They died immediately." - -"Oh!" - -"Immediately. The girl ran seven miles to Red River, where she sobbed -out her story and fainted." Bob's round little face beamed with pride. -"The strangest thing is what the sheep-herder said at the trial. When -they asked him if he had anything to offer in defence he said that the -devil had entered his soul. In a way he was right, poor chap." - -Miss Kolbenhayer shuddered. "It's like your Chicago." - -"Oh, Chicago," said Bob in scorn. "That is a commercial city. The crimes -are commercial and stupid. Here we are faced with a mysterious people." - -He hesitated as Revelita changed the plates, and Teddy fell into a -revery that had to do with the mysterious people. In the old foolish -days when he had first come and had been overwhelmed by the place, he -had tried to plunge headlong into the native life of the town. There had -been dances in the little halls at the edge of the city: colourful but -stiff affairs with little skinny girls wearing pink ribbons in their -hair, dancing with swarthy little boys. He had eaten by preference in -the Mexican restaurants--not that there were many; the native -townspeople liked to eat at home--where he had tried to burn out his -guts, as he expressed it, with chile in various forms. Here and there he -met and danced with Revelita. - -Then came the new phase, when he began to go uptown to the big houses. -He had almost forgotten the queer triumphant feeling he had when -Revelita first appeared at his elbow at Bob's, wearing a white apron and -offering him a cocktail from a tray, eyes downcast, and lips composed. -Then the climax, a few nights later, when he was alone in Bob's house, -drawing upon his new pleasant intimacy by reading in the library while -Bob was out at Sanford's. The hurried step outside, the Spanish -recriminations, and Revelita's startled face when she found him in a -supposedly empty house; her face still twisted in anger and fear of her -father, who had beaten her after a quarrel, and driven her up to Bob's -strap in hand. Of course, something had to be done to quiet her. -Together, amused by the piquancy of it, they raided the liquor-chest. -Revelita was reckless, drunk, excited out of her usual reserve. Followed -the usual row of asterisks, he told himself. And then the next day she -appeared once more at his elbow in the white apron, eyes downcast, lips -composed. He still remembered the thrill of power that little incident -had given him. It was a wonderful town. - -"A mysterious people." Bob repeated as Revelita's stocky figure passed -out through the door. "Who knows what they are thinking?" - -They had coffee in the living-room before beginning to play. Teddy -looked around at the calm well-fed faces, the heavy blankets that -curtained the windows, the polished floor and all the big permanent -things that Stuart lived with, among which he had his leisurely thoughts -of people and poetry and music. - -Quietly, he stretched out his legs and settled back to sip the coffee. -For the first time that day, he was really happy. Safe. - - - - - CHAPTER EIGHT - - -"I think I'm going crazy," Flo remarked in a pleased tone. "I've thought -so several times lately and there's no possible doubt." - -"Huh?" said Gin. She turned a page of the new "Photoplay" and cried -suddenly, "_Look_ at this! I'll never speak to him again!" - -"Who?" - -"Clive Brook. Oh, dear, he's wearing the most godawful waistcoat. Look." - -"Tasty, I think. Pour me some tea, that's a good girl." - -"Why do you think you are going crazy? I want some more chocolate cake. -Where is that girl?" - -"She'll be here in a minute.... Because I keep forgetting things: today -I forgot to say anything to my people all the way back to Puye. I didn't -go to sleep exactly: I just forgot. I didn't tell them to turn their -tickets in to the office and Margaret was furious because she had to -call up all the rooms, and some of them weren't in their rooms and she -had to write dozens of notes." - -"Lazy old thing. It'll do her good. I get those vague streaks sometimes -myself." - -"Oh, _you_, it's always a hangover with you.... Who's that across the -street?" - -Gin stood up to see over the drapes. "It's that new fiancee of Bill -Trewarth's. She comes from Carolina or somewhere." - -"She looks cute. I wonder what it would be like to go visiting for a -whole summer just because you are somebody's fiancee." - -"I think it would feel very musty. You would be going to teas with his -mother most of the time and on Sunday if you were very good he'd take -you out to watch the polo." - -Flo powdered her nose and considered. "I think it would be nice," she -said. "No responsibility." - -"My God! You don't mean it.... Hey, you, I want another piece of cake. -You can't mean it. Did you ever hear them talking?" - -"Sure I have. Well, what _else_ is there to do?" - -"This, or something like this in some other place. Why not?" - -"But then what about men?" - -"Haven't you enough men, for heavens' sake? _Those_ dumb brutes." - -"No, I haven't, and neither have you. You know perfectly well I haven't: -there aren't enough to go round in this town." - -Gin admitted that there were not enough men. "But," she added, "it's a -law of nature in resort places. You can always go somewhere else if -that's all that's worrying you. The question is, what do you really -want?" - -"Oh," said Flo, passionately, "I want a lot. I want to be rich and -stupid like that little beast over there, and I want to be intelligent -and interesting and comfortable like lots of the people around, and I'd -very much like to be wicked and always wear black. The question is, what -am I going to get? I'm tired of this sort of thing. At this rate I'll -start looking for Life, and then I'll be a dirty little pushover like -Rita." - -"Why, Flo. Such language. You couldn't be anyway, you're not the type; -you're older than Rita. Anyway, she's not a dirty little pushover. She -just doesn't worry about things. She has a good time." - -"Really. I suppose you'd say I'd be better off if I _were_ the type?" - -"Good heavens," said Gin impatiently. "I'm not advising you. I feel like -a mess myself, lots of times. I hate Rita as much as you do, and you -know it. Even if I could act that way I wouldn't: I'm not sure I even -want to. But what can you do about it? The trouble with you is----" - -"Your cigarette went out," said Flo. "Yes, darling, what _is_ the -trouble with me?" - -"You're feeling your oats," said Gin. "It makes you expect too much of -the world, feeling your oats. You can't help thinking there must be -something to do about it. There isn't; because whatever you do about it, -it's not settled." - -"Where did you find all this out, Grandma?" - -"Well," said Gin. "I tried a lot of things and what I didn't try, -somebody else did. This town is full of people who try to do something -about it. Only the dumb ones have a good time at all. People who believe -they are being noble, like Rex and Ada living together. Just the idea -that they are being bad keeps them going: they won't have to do another -thing all their lives. They're living up to a principle." - -"But nobody cares." - -"Well, how do they know that? They're happy and they give us something -to tell the dudes about. I've got to go home. Where do you go tomorrow? -Have you looked at the chart?" - -"They haven't decided yet about Mesa Verde. If I do go, I won't have -enough clean shirts. How many could you lend me in an emergency?" - -"Only one. Don't let me catch you taking more. I may be sent somewhere -myself." - -They paid the bill, scrupulously dividing it, and walked home in -silence. As they turned in the gate Flo said, - -"Well, I'm going to do something. I'm going to get engaged." - -"Yes? Who to?" - -"I don't know. I probably haven't met him yet, but I'm going to get -engaged pretty soon. What's more, I'm going to get married." She threw -her hat into the closet. "To the next man I meet, if I can. There must -be something in it because so many people do it." - -"Well," Gin said, "it's a big risk, I think. But I guess it's your own -business." She thought about it for a long time while she rubbed cold -cream on her face, in the bathroom. "Are you going to get a man with a -mother, so you can visit her next summer?" she called through the open -door. - -"If I can," was the candid retort. Gin frowned into the mirror and began -to apply a waver to her hair. After a tense moment of arranging the lock -over the left temple she shouted, - -"Try to get a dude." - -"I've never yet had an unmarried man on the Detour," said Flo solemnly. - -"Well, then, a driver. Keep it in the family. There's always at least -one who has just had a divorce." There was no answer to this. She tried -again: "Write to the papers." - -"Oh, shut up. I'm serious, I tell you." - -"Well, you should be. It's no laughing matter. Can I borrow a -brassiere?" - -"No." - -"Oh, go on and get married. I think it's a swell idea. Name the first -one after me and I'll send it a rattle. Can I borrow a brassiere?" - -"There's one in the bottom drawer." - -"You'd better start buying a lot of brassieres," Gin called, after -inspecting the supply in the lower drawer. "Most of yours aren't the -right kind." - -"What do you mean?" - -"You'd better buy a lot because girls who get engaged always wear very -tight ones. Haven't you noticed? They never flop. They don't have to." - -"You're vulgar," said Flo. - -"No, really. It ought to be one of the first things into the hope -chest." - -There was a disgusted silence. She finished dressing, though one of her -stockings had a run and it took a long time to find another pair. She -felt jumpy, and it wasn't nearly seven, when Harvey was to call for her. -Swishing into the living room, she picked up a "Photoplay" and tried to -settle down, but she kept thinking of Flo. Flo was smoking and reading -and looking very determined. - -"You're all dressed up too," Gin said at last, trying to ignore the -chill in the room. She thought that she sounded much too bright and -conciliatory, but something had to be done. "What's on?" - -"Beetie wants me to come up and play bridge," Flo said. "I don't know -who else is going to be there--one is Russell somebody, the new real -estate man--but I didn't want to take chances on looking tacky." - -There now: things were more comfortable. Gin turned back to her magazine -in peace. Harvey was five minutes early, and in a jovial mood. The door -was open, but he rang the shrill bell and called, - -"Hello, hello!" - -When he saw Flo he calmed down a little; he never seemed to like her. -Gin was always nervous when they had to talk to each other; they both -acted too polite. Perhaps she shouldn't have told Flo so much about him. -Flo was a prude. Now she put on her coat and hurried him out as fast as -she could. - -"What's new?" asked Harvey. He turned off on the Vegas road and speeded -up. - -"Oh, nothing, I think they'll send me to Albuquerque tomorrow: that -means I'll stay down overnight to meet the morning trains. I hope it -won't be too hot to sleep." - -"Overnight? I hope you don't go. The Summerses are throwing a party -tomorrow night and told me to bring you." - -"Oh, I don't mind missing it. I get bored at those parties. The same old -jokes and the same old people getting tight. Now where are we going?" - -"Pecos," he said. "I feel like having a steak. Do you mind?" - -"Nope. Go ahead." - -Absorbed in speeding, he grew taciturn, but Gin didn't care. She sat -back and stared at the road, trying to stop watching for bumps. That was -the trouble with learning to drive; it ruined you as a passenger. With -an effort she looked away from the spot of light that the car was -pursuing, and stared at the side of the road. They were running by the -railroad track. In the daytime, riding in the big passenger buses, the -road was so familiar that she hated it, but now it was too dark to be -anything but a dangerous path that might at any minute lurch towards the -train tracks and carry them straight into the way of destruction. Once a -bus had driven out too far on a soft shoulder, and had toppled over. The -courier's leg was hurt and a passenger broke a rib. If a train had come -by.... She could hear a train chugging up the mountain. She half turned -and saw a far-off glow. The road curved and looped and swept towards the -track, and then away from it. The train was coming close ... closer ... -closer ... perhaps now, just before it reached them, they would drive -into its path. Harvey didn't care. He went on just as fast as before. - -A straining moment, then they were out of danger and the monster was -neck and neck with them, puffing, shrieking, grinding, giving her a -horrible close glimpse of its insides and an idea of what might have -happened. Harvey stepped on the gas and for a moment they stayed -together, then the train pulled ahead slowly, seemed to gather speed, -marched by dragging a long tail spotted with square windows, and swung -around a curve ahead to vanish forever. Only the smoke hung in the air -and mixed with the smell of gasoline and burning cedar. - -"What's the matter with you?" said Harvey. "You're pinching my arm." - -"Just playing," she said, and moved over to her own side of the car -again. - -They reached Pecos hungry and a little chilled. There was a roadhouse -nearby where people would stop for gas and, if they knew anything about -the country, for food. They ate a leisurely dinner, chatting with the -waitress and playing the two records that were not warped or -cracked--"The Big Rock Candy Mountain" and "Two Black Crows, Part III." -Driving home afterwards, Harvey went slower, surfeited with beefsteak. -He slowed up outside of Beetie's house, at Gin's suggestion, and they -peered through the windows to see if there was any possibility of -joining in. Beetie and Flo had their noses in their cards, and their -partners were two young men that Gin had never seen before. - -"Do you want to crash it?" asked Harvey. "It looks dead. I can't get -very thrilled about it myself. Let's go home and see what Madden's up -to." - -"Oh, he'll be up at Stuart's." - -"Maybe not. We'll look." - -There was no one in the little house, but a log was still burning in the -fireplace and Teddy had left dirty dishes on the table. A new unframed -picture was hanging on the wall. Gin examined it. There were two -mountains, one leaning over the other, and three adobe houses with red -chile hanging from the roofs, making bands of red. - -"Oh, did you hear about that?" said Harvey. "Mrs. Lennard is buying it -for a hundred dollars. At least I think that's the one. There are so -many like it, around here." - -"How marvelous for Teddy!" - -"Yeah, Madden owes about three times that much. I don't see why he -doesn't get a little sense and go to work. This new vaudeville business -will keep him going for another month if they pay him anything." - -"Well, they ought to," said Gin. "He'll probably work his head off -fixing it up." She kicked a coal farther into the fire and stood on the -hearth, musing. How did people keep going when they owed money that way? -It worried her to owe money. Once when she forgot the bill for kindling -they wouldn't send the next order and she had to find another coal -company until it was fixed up. It had been awfully embarrassing. Madden -just went on charging things and charging things. If she could go on -like that without worrying, she might enjoy things a lot more. It was -partly Flo's fault that she was that way: Flo was scared of getting into -debt: she actually kept money in the bank. - -"I couldn't ever be an artist," she said. "I'd be too worried all the -time." - -"Oh, he gets along." Harvey sat down on the camp cot nearest the fire; -the one with the Yeibichai design on the blanket. "Sit down and be -sociable." - -She sat next to him and he put one arm around her while he held on to -his pipe with the other hand, puffing steadily. - -"Slow place, isn't it?" he said. - -"I guess so. I don't mind much. I like the country." - -"Yeah, I do too. But you ought to see Colorado; it's got this skinned a -mile." - -"You come from Colorado, don't you?" - -He nodded. "Dad's there now. I've got an old horse that I broke in -myself; he's still up there." He took his arm away to light his pipe -again, then put it back and squeezed her under the arm with his hand. As -if he didn't notice.... "When I go back he always knows me. I taught him -to dance: I used to have ideas about taking him on the stage. He sure -was a pretty pony. Getting old now." - -She was drowsy from looking so long at the fire. There was nothing to -say anyway. Harvey had told all the stories that you tell people you've -just met; they knew each other too well to have any conversation. Unless -they talked about philosophy, and he didn't like to do that. He always -said she thought too much, probably because he didn't want to bother -about thinking. She yawned; he went on smoking. The room was getting -warm and pleasantly stuffy. - -When his pipe was finished he knocked it out on the edge of the -fireplace and put both arms around her. They kissed, and he hugged her -tighter and tighter and then, just as their lips separated, he tried to -make her lie down. - -"No," she said uneasily, and pushed him away. He stopped and she felt -ridiculously stiff and upright. She leaned forward with her elbows on -her knees. - -"What's the matter with you tonight?" he asked, not unreasonably. She -didn't say anything because she didn't want to explain this sensation of -wariness. Two or three times before she had spent the whole evening -lying with him on the couch, fondling more or less innocuously. She felt -now--she didn't say it even to herself, but she felt that it was time -for something more to happen. She had been brought up in the belief that -it was up to her, as the control element in the game, to keep a watchful -eye on developments and to manage when it came to necking. They started -it and did their best to let it run its own course. They deliberately -forgot what they were doing. And then if anything definite happened, -everybody knew they always felt sorry and wished it hadn't happened. So -it was up to her to remember. - -"Well?" said Harvey. - -"I don't feel like it," she said. - -"Sure you do. Come on." He pulled her down and she lay next to him rigid -and watchful. He kissed her again. - -"God, you're cold tonight." - -"Well, I told you." - -"Want a drink?" - -"No." - -He tried to make her open her lips. She was stubborn and in the struggle -they both laughed and she relented a little. In a stupid, urgent way he -made love to her while she waited passively and grew more and more -irritated. He was so easy to see through. Trying to make her forget, -trying to deny all her intelligence, trying to sneak. It was worse than -when he just sort of went to sleep and breathed hard and forgot anything -except that she was a body next to him to clutch and hold tight. She -suddenly jerked away from him and sat up, patting her hair. Her cheeks -burned because his whiskers had scratched them. - -"Aw, Gin!" He lay watching her for a minute, and then he too sat up, -with his necktie all crooked. She was angry and a little disgusted. - -"Damn you," he said. - -"Well, I told you. I told you." - -He didn't answer. Feeling miserable and guilty, she walked over to her -coat and rummaged in the pocket for a comb. She primped and patted -herself with defiant jerky movements, and wished that he would speak. He -didn't. It swept over her that she didn't really know him at all. She -didn't really know anyone. She was alone in Santa Fe, in the universe. -Everybody else was hostile and stupid and silent. - -"I'm going home," she said at last. - -"I think I'd better not see you any more," he answered, as if that were -an answer. - -"All right, if you think so," she said coldly. "It's up to you." It -would be dull, not having him around to take her to parties. - -"No, it's up to you." - -"Well, then, why shouldn't we see each other? I'm not mad." - -"That isn't it," he said. "We've got to do something about it." - -"About what?" - -"Don't be dumb." He seemed to feel more cheerful now. He was filling his -pipe again, but was still sulky. - -"Well, we aren't ever going to do anything about it, then," she said -decidedly. - -He shrugged his shoulders. "Good-bye, then, I guess you can get home all -right." - -"Good-bye," she said. In a rush of remorse, she paused at the door. -"Honestly, is that the way you feel about it?" she asked. "Didn't you -ever just like me?" - -"Well, Jesus Christ, Gin," he cried. "You're a girl. How did you expect -me to feel?" - -"I don't know," she said miserably. "I thought maybe it wasn't bad, just -playing around. Can't I ever have any friends unless I sleep with them? -You pretended to like me." - -"I can't see it that way. You see," he said carefully, "I've got plenty -of _friends_. Fellows. I wanted a girl. It's too much trouble, having a -girl for a friend. That isn't what a girl is for. I mean, why take the -trouble?" - -"Oh," she said. She hesitated, looking out the open door at the road. -"Well, then...." she paused. He said nothing. "Well, then. I didn't know -that was how you felt." - -"Everybody feels that way, I should think," he said. - -"Oh! I'm sorry. Well, then ... goodbye." - -"Good-bye," he said. He didn't even stand up. "Take care of yourself," -he added suddenly, and then he looked away for as long as the door was -still open. - -She walked as fast as she could, trying to start thinking about -something. She couldn't think. She was feeling numb and stupid. If she -started to think there would be too much in her mind. But something must -be done. Something would have to happen in a minute. She almost ran down -the street, away from the house. Her own fault for going out with him at -all. She should never have gone out with him or with anybody unless she -was going to sleep with them ultimately. Letting them take her to -dinner, fooling them and riding around in their cars just on the -strength of a false promise. That was the way they all felt.... Wasn't -there anyone who just liked her? Was there anyone who felt the way she -did, just going along without making plans about getting things from -other people? Just talking and letting things happen? She stumbled on a -rock in the road, and kicked it furiously aside. Crossing a bridge at -the aqueduct, she stopped for breath, and felt tears on her cheeks. She -must have been making a noise all the way along the road. How horrible. -Everything. How shameful. As soon as he saw it was no use he didn't even -take her home. Well, if that was nature.... But what a lonely world. -_Everybody_.... Perhaps even old Mr. Dunstan. After this it wouldn't be -right for Mr. Dunstan to buy her Coca Colas when she met him in the -plaza. - -A car ran across the bridge and almost grazed her; its driver did not -see her in the dark. It was very late. She blew her nose at last and it -was as if she blew all her thoughts, too, into the handkerchief. She -tiptoed into the house, but Flo was awake, propped up in her bed, with a -book and a Hershey bar. - -"What's the matter?" said Flo. "You've been crying. Or shouldn't I -notice?" - -"I'm sore at everybody," said Gin. She walked over to her bed and began -to take off her shoes. "No," she said suddenly. "I'm damned if I'll just -go to bed. Let's go out for a walk." - -"What? You're crazy. Tell me what's happened." - -"Oh, Harvey makes me so sick. Everybody makes me sick. He said I was -just good to sleep with." - -"Um. How does he know?" - -"Don't be an idiot. He says I'm not good for anything else." - -"Oh, never mind. I always did think he was pretty low." - -"But he's right, Flo. He's right." Her voice rose to a tragic squeak. -"That's what's so terrible. That's the way things are." - -Flo put down her book and looked benign. "How many times must I tell you -about these people? You overrate everybody. You haven't any -discrimination at all. The idea of letting a taxi-driver with the brains -of a peanut get you so excited. You're shaking all over. Why, he's just -one of those people. Good Lord, Gin.... I've half a mind to go with you -and walk it off." - -"Well, come on. Put something on over your pajamas. Nobody's going to -see you." - -Flo, surprisingly, acted on the suggestion. She pulled on a skirt and a -pair of sandals, then shrouded herself in a coat. "All right, kid," she -said. "Let's go. You look like Lady Macbeth." - -This was better. Flo was decent all right. It was thrilling, walking -through the empty streets. If anyone should stop them and see those -pajama-legs dragging! She giggled. They turned to the edge of town and -walked up to the top of a hill, making a dust that was invisible in the -dark but tickled their noses. At the top they stopped to puff and to -look back at the city. There were still some lights; the square of -lights that marked the penitentiary and the dimmed lamp posts on the -plaza. As they watched, even these went out and left only the moon and a -few sparks from the windows of the houses. Now that Gin's heart had -stopped beating so fast, she could smell the night smells. - -"Oh, well," she said, "to hell with Harvey." - -"Sure," said Flo. - - - - - CHAPTER NINE - - -Walking goes in two-four time, but riding either on horse or in an -automobile makes a rhythm like a waltz. For half an hour Blake had been -thinking up waltzes and trying to hum them against the waltz that his -mind seemed to prefer. Whenever he relaxed for the shortest space of -time he would hear again, like a stubborn gramophone far back between -his ears, - - It's three o'clock in the morning: - We've danced--th' whole night through.... - -and the tick of the left rear wheel of the car kept it up. - -Talking was useless; it was impossible to talk except at certain times -of the day. Just after breakfast, when they started out, everyone was -talkative for an hour. Then they fell silent until lunch, wherever that -might happen to be. Afterwards the four people were dead quiet until -they had stopped for the night, except for little interludes when -Gwendolyn Saville-Sanders would say, - -"Do look at that hill over there. Marvelous." - -Or Mary would call, "Blake, dear. Not quite so fast. You can never tell -who's coming around the curve." When Teddy was driving she didn't worry. -Only relatives are unsafe as chauffeurs. - -The left rear wheel ticked and Blake hummed waltzes and all the time the -road was leading them farther and farther from any place that he had -ever been. He felt great. He paid no attention to gas and oil and air. -Teddy took care of all that, with the jealous love of a childless woman -who has borrowed a nephew for the week. For Blake, stopping for gas and -oil was a rude interruption. He would be far off somewhere and suddenly -the car would stop in front of a dusty little red pump sitting in the -middle of the landscape, with a man in overalls shambling out of the -dusty little house behind it. Then Gwendolyn would order soda pop all -around, and mop her face. Or she would ask for the ladies' room in a -husky whisper that made Blake ashamed to go to his side of the little -house. - -In between the road was a broad highway, not good enough to let you -forget the driving. One pass through the mountains kept Mrs. -Saville-Sanders twittering for a long time, but most of the way was on -flat ground with the mountains on either side and a long way ahead. He -liked it better that way. They were not like California mountains. They -were flat on top, and not so blue. Some of them were red and the other -colour was a dull yellow. Once they met a man on horseback who was -dressed like a Mexican but looked darker. A Navajo? Probably. Later they -saw a flock of sheep, and Gwendolyn's ecstatic cry called their eyes to -the distant figure, herding them. Yes, it was a Navajo woman in full -skirt. They passed a collection of brown buildings with huts like -bee-hives scattered around them, and flaunting signs announcing that -this was a Navajo trading-post where one could buy real genuine Navajo -blankets and silver rings made right there on the premises. At this -place they all sniffed, and Teddy stepped on the gas. - -Towards Shiprock, the road turned bad. An hour of bumping and floating -in the air above the back seat brought from Mary a flat decision that -they would stay at Shiprock, if they ever got there. - -"The Navajo may be very picturesque," she said, "but we'll do something -dreadful to the car if we treat it like this. Don't the springs give way -sometimes? Oh, Teddy, didn't you see that bump? No, Blake, we'll stay at -Shiprock. Goodness knows what we'd find beyond it, anyway." She broke -off and clutched at her hat, bouncing miserably. - -Blake was in despair. He knew that it was no use to remonstrate: -especially as even Teddy seemed to agree. Teddy was never any good in a -free-for-all; he always took Mary's side. Blake didn't think of -criticizing him for it. Teddy was simply sometimes a baffling adult and -sometimes a companion. It was all in the way you caught him. He himself, -still dependent on adult decisions, accepted his bad luck without -question. - -They found Shiprock at evening, and left Mary and Gwendolyn in their -rooms while they strolled around the town, staring. It was thus they -came across the truck-driver who was willing to take passengers into the -country with him. He was chatting with the owner of one of the -trading-posts, and he asked them about the roads. - -"They were fine until we got here," Blake said, aggrieved. "Now the -trip's over. He"--with a nod at Teddy--"backed out." - -The truck-driver pushed his hat back. "He's got sense," he said. "You -don't want to go driving these roads if you don't know 'em. Where were -you aiming to go?" - -"Oh, around," said Teddy. "To see the country. We've got a couple of -women who want to stop, that's the trouble. They think it's just as good -right here." - -"They think they've had their trip," said Blake. "They want to rest here -a few days." - -"Well, say," said the driver. "Come on with me. I'll drop you off at -Clearwater, if you like, and you can catch the mail truck back on -Wednesday. There's plenty room in the car." - -"Where's Clearwater?" Blake asked eagerly. - -"Oh, it's fifty mile out. You'll get a sight of the country going up -there. I start at ten tomorrow morning soon as I get loaded. Take it or -leave it." - -They took it immediately, and hurried home to argue with the ladies. - -It was raining when they started, and McLean swore in a cheerful -mechanical manner. "We won't make any time worth bragging about," he -said. - -For a long time they drove down a mere path across flat country, but -when the road started to climb they entered a pine wood. It was lovely -in the rain; clear spaces were bright green and under the trees the -ground was brown and clean-looking. McLean said it was bear country. -They saw no bear, but sometimes a rabbit ran ahead of them, scurrying -from side to side of the road and just missing death when he achieved -the idea of diving into the underbrush. Now and then they slowed up to -let the tail end of a flock of sheep and goats go by, scrambling and -crowding and making silly noises and poisoning the air with their -stench. Sometimes a Navajo cantered past on horseback, raising his hand -in salute and for a moment skipping the steady beat of his whip on the -horses' flanks. - -The truck panted louder, hesitated, ploughed ahead on a momentary level -and groaned in a humming falsetto above the grind of the engine. - -"She's a bitch of a hill," said McLean. - -There was a view. Hills rolled out from the cliff below them, and -dropped away to a streaked valley that showed far off where it was not -raining; where a dry butte sat placidly in the golden light. The roof of -the truck dripped dismally. Down again with dragging brakes and slow -turns; Blake caught his breath at every blind corner, forgetting that -they would not meet any other cars. The other side of the mountains sent -them spinning off into a red country lined with severe rocky hills, and -for a long time they rode through the valley, following roads with what -seemed to him an utter disregard of direction. All the roads looked -alike: two parallel strips of bare soil through the rabbit-brush. But -Mac said that any wrong turning would take them, after painful windings, -to the door of an Indian house (hogan, he called it) and then they would -have to find the way back and start over. Crossing a narrow bit of clay -land that bordered a stream, the heavy truck slipped and slid down and -churned away helplessly. Mac swore and climbed out, pulling a shovel -after him. He beckoned to the boys and they all worked furiously, -carrying stones to pack down under the wheels. After an hour they backed -out and started on. - -Panting, his hands and knees covered with drying mud, his stomach -growling in hunger, Blake nevertheless felt glad of the accident. He had -met with disaster and overcome the elements. It was his country, as it -was the country of the dark men and the garrulous cheerful truck-driver. -This was the place he had come out West for. In these quiet wild valleys -he forgot even the search. Now, riding at dusk in a muddy truck, he -forgot the boy in Santa Fe ceaselessly looking for something. - -Clearwater was three buildings square and neat in the middle of a -clearing; built partly of trimmed stone and partly of logs. The -storehouse looked like a barracks; the trader's house was the same -except that there were lights in the windows and a big dog tied to the -door and a red-haired boy standing by him. He ran towards the truck, -crying, - -"Mac, Mac! Dad killed a rattlesnake in the henhouse. It almost bit Ma. -Who's with you?" When he saw strangers he grew quiet and stood -motionless. Mac threw him a bag. - -"Catch, Buddy. Where's your Dad?" - -They pushed open the screen door, passed the growling dog, and entered a -bare ugly room with sacks piled in the corners. Beyond this was a -living-room with stiff blue plush furniture, and a woman hurrying -through the other door to meet them. - -"Evening, Mac." She rubbed her hands down her flat hips and looked shyly -at the boys. - -"Evening, Mrs. Bush. Can you put the boys up for a couple of days? I -figured Warren would stop by Wednesday, so I brought 'em along." - -"That's right. Come in and eat; Jim'll be here in a minute. He's looking -up the store. Come on in; I was just dishing supper." - -They followed her to the next room, where an oil lamp burned on a spread -table. The rest of the room was shadowy, but Blake saw a radio against -one wall. Mac sat down and they joined him. The boy lurked in the -corner, studying them. When his father came in he darted behind him. -Bush was a tall blond man with a brown face, inflexible and -expressionless. He shook hands mutely with each of the boys when they -were introduced by Mac, and they each stood up. Mrs. Bush came in with a -tray of beef stew and canned peaches and mashed potatoes and they all -started to cat, silently. - -With the food and warmth, Blake began to overcome his first feeling of -strangeness. The little-boy fear of sleeping away from home was ebbing -and he thought that perhaps he was growing up at last. He even managed -to ask for a second helping of stew, but to join in the slowly -increasing conversation was an effort too much for him. Bush asked Mac -about the trip and was regaled with detailed saga of the accident in the -mud. Buddy ate fast and kept his round green eyes fixed on the -strangers. When the meal was over they stood up without ceremony and -went their various ways. Mrs. Bush began to clear the table, scolding -Buddy steadily in a low tone. The two men went outside to the other -building, and Teddy and Blake followed at a distance, trying to think of -something to do that would take them out of the way. It was almost dark -by this time: the shadows, that in the daytime looked like pools of ink -under the brush, had been diluted and spread and run together over the -sand, melting all the brush and the rocks in one dark blanket. They -turned together down the valley, walking swiftly on the rough road. - -Tramp, tramp, tramp, with a little skipping noise when one of them -kicked a pebble. The air was cool and dry and sweet. It grew darker. -They passed a tiny fire where two Indians sat on their heels and watched -a coffee pot. A long, happy, swinging cry sounded over across the -valley, down the mountain. It was dark. - -Out of the swelling joy in his breast, Blake cried, "We're out of the -States! We're in another world." - -Teddy answered with silence. Tramp, tramp, tramp. He loved Teddy and the -Navajos and the stars, the heavy yellow stars. For one pure moment -things stood still, just like that, and then he knew that it would be -one of those moments that would come back some day when there would be -least reason to remember. Some instant of time that was waiting for him -to catch him some day, perhaps in the middle of a city street in the -summer when the asphalt oozed and rose around his heels; out of nowhere, -a reasonless ecstasy that wrapped a valley at night, with the Navajos -singing, and Teddy. - -It hurt. If he could only cry, and spoil it. - -Then Teddy caught his breath and said, "Let's not go back to Santa Fe." -He felt it too, then. Of course; he had to feel it too. He repeated, -"Let's not go back. You mustn't go back to school and I mustn't go on -shaking cocktails for hostesses. We'll go to Mexico and get away from -everything. How about it?" - -Walking swiftly, Blake said, "All right. Yes." It was a perfect thought. -He felt no impulse to make plans. Leave it at that; then going will be -simple. - -"We can drive it easily," Teddy said. "We'll get a car that we can -depend on and it'll be simple. I don't care if we never come back, -either." He slowed up in his walk, wheeled, and started back to the -trading post as though their errand had been finished. Skipping to catch -up, Blake followed in step. Tramp, tramp, tramp. - -Mexico City, with broad white streets and narrow little slums. There -would be fights. He and Teddy would frequent the little cafes ... knives -flashing ... the room full of glowering peons allied against them.... He -leaped at the swarthy man with the knife who was striking Teddy in the -back. The knife felt sharp but not very painful as it reached his heart. -Madden was shaking his shoulder and saying, "Blake! My God, he's dying." -He stirred, smiled.... Blinking the wetness from his eyes, he blushed in -the darkness and shoved his hands into his pockets. Tramp, tramp. - -Another flash; sitting in the cheapest seats in the Mexican theatre, -surrounded by grimy sweaty people, mustachioed men and mustachioed -women. They shouted as the dancer whirled out on the stage, stamping her -little red heals. But she looked straight at Teddy, and her eyes were -like Gin's, fixed on Teddy in the same mocking, hurt way. And Teddy -folded his arms and looked at her with his high little smile, the smile -that always made Blake hate him and love him too. The music played; her -little heels tapped the stage imperiously. She took the rose from her -bosom and tossed it.... - -But someone was singing; someone really was singing out there in the -dark, miles off across the rabbit-brush. Chanting, rising to a -hysterical falsetto and swooping down again to a minor note under the -one that began the song.... From the shadows back of the store-room -another man answered him, for all the world like a coyote. - - - - - CHAPTER TEN - - -Mac drove away and the store was open for business, with the boys -hanging about curiously, fingering the stock and getting into Bush's way -as he waited on customers. The big cool room was lined with shelves full -of folded overalls and canned goods and coloured handkerchiefs and -sheepskins and harness and cooking pots and candy. Three or four -Navajos, who had been lounging on the doorstep when the store was first -opened, now lounged on the hay-box and showed no signs either of buying -or of going away. When other Indians came in they greeted them, then -went on with the business of staring at the stock, or whittling little -pieces of wood. - -A short fat woman came in with a sack under her arm and two children -dragging at her skirt. She plumped the burlap down on the counter and -tugged at it until she had uncovered a blanket of a rough weave, which -she displayed to Bush's apathetic gaze. He picked up the blanket and -looked at it, then put it on the scales and weighed it. After a moment's -figuring he named a price, and by her silence she seemed to assent. -Blake, chewing cookies, watched her in fascination. - -Bush wrote down on a small paper bag, $6.20. Blake read it upside down. -The woman looked thoughtfully at the shelves and directed Bush, who put -down on the counter a small bag of flour and wrote the price on the bag. -After that she went into a deep silence, while the bystanders blinked at -the flies and Bush contemplated his toes, chewing gum. She ordered a can -of baking-powder and asked how much of the money was left. At the answer -she pondered suspiciously, but did not argue. Then she bought ten cents' -worth of candy, asked the reckoning again, and left the store with her -sack full of supplies, the children trotting at her heels. Bush wrote -the transaction down in a big black book and started to rearrange the -stock. - -Another Navajo rode up on a horse, driving two other horses ahead of -him. All three he tied to a post, where they shied at every wandering -breeze and kept their noses raised, straining at the ropes. Dusty and -cheerful, he strode in and ordered soda-pop and a box of crackers, -slamming his money down proudly. He swallowed half the soda at one pull, -with his eyes fixed on Blake. "Where you from?" he said. - -"Santa Fe," said Blake. - -"Yo-to. Good roads?" - -"Awful," said Blake. "Terrible from here to Shiprock." - -The Indian shook his head. "No, good roads. I came over them yesterday." - -"Sure they're good," said Bush. "They're all right, kid. You don't know -this country or you wouldn't be complaining about _those_ roads." - -"They have fine roads at Yo-to," said the Indian. "I was at Yo-to. I was -there seven years." - -"Where?" Teddy leaned across the counter. - -"Yo-to. Santa Fe, that is. I was in the penitentiary for seven years." -He seemed very cheerful about it. - -"What?" Blake said, in a gasp. - -"Yes. I was pretty mad then, but not any more. It is all right now." - -He put down the empty soda bottle and bit into a cracker, chatting with -his friends in Navajo. - -"Why did he go to jail?" Teddy asked Bush. - -"I dunno. It was before my time. Probably he helped burn a witch; they -always get seven years for that. One of you boys can ride over with me -to the well, if you want." - -Madden went, and Blake wandered around the house to the back porch, -where he was unwillingly drawn into conversation with Mrs. Bush. He had -felt awkward with her; she was so silent. But this morning she seemed -more talkative. He sat down on the step and listened vaguely, feeling -drowsy in the heat. He felt like brooding over the decoration he had -found on the wall of his room; a piece of burnt-leather with a picture -enameled on it of a ruddy desert mathematically arrayed beneath a -setting sun, rays outstretched in all directions. Underneath was a verse -burnt in big dancing letters, and he had memorized it: - - Welcome to Arizona - Where the beauteous cactus grows - And what was once the desert - Now is blooming like the rose. - -Teddy had been disgusted, horrified, and humourless about it, but there -was something---- - -"There's a lot of things we don't understand in this world," said Mrs. -Bush, and moved the pan in her lap to a more level position to catch the -potato-peelings. "I ain't saying that the Mormons are always right, -though. I'm not Mormon myself: Mr. Bush is. Anyway, I always think there -must be some reason for it all." - -"I guess so," said Blake. - -"When I was young," she continued, "I laughed at all that, myself. -Junior'll go through the same stage, most likely. But I've seen things." -She paused and selected another potato. "Mind you, it don't prove -anything. But it was queer. It was when I was a girl at home. Mamma and -Dad and me had gone to a camp-meeting." - -"Camp-meeting?" - -"Yes. Not here; I'm from the South originally. Arkansas. We drove over -to the meeting-grounds in a wagon and afterwards, coming back, we slept -out. It was my idea: I blame myself. It was low country and I should of -known better. Mom and Dad were getting along: they were too old to act -like that. - -"Well, we got back home all right and then we was all sick. Malaria, I -guess it was, or typhoid. I've always been as strong as a horse and in a -little while I was up and around. But Dad didn't pick up the way he -ought to and they took him to hospital. We thought Mom was all right. -She just slept all the time." She shook her head and remained silent a -moment. - -"I didn't worry about Mamma. I ought to of. But I didn't know any -better. We were all busy fretting over Dad. Then one night they said he -was better and I gave Mom her medicine and went to bed. She told me she -felt better too, on account of Dad. I went to bed. I don't excuse -myself. There must have been something I could of done. - -"Anyway when I woke up it was early morning and Mom was breathing real -loud. I called the doctor in a hurry and he came running and took one -look and sent her to hospital. He told me not to worry. He said it was a -little relapse. I said, 'Yes, but what makes Mamma look so queer?' What -it was, she was dying, and I didn't know." - -She looked at Blake with wet, horrified eyes, and he waited. - -"I went back to bed--I'll never forgive myself, but I wasn't in my right -senses yet. The fever kept coming back. I didn't sleep very well, I -_-will_ say that for myself. Even when I didn't know how bad it was I -was worried. I dreamed I was running up the steps of a big building, a -funny sort of building I hadn't ever noticed before, and it had big -pillars along the front. All the time I was running--I remember it as -plain as you are sitting here now----" - -And a lot plainer, Blake thought. - -"I kept thinking I must hold on to myself and try to expect something -nice that was waiting for me in the building. I can't quite say what it -was like. As if I was fooling myself in my dream and knew it. I kept -running and running and feeling worse." - -She picked up another potato, but held it in her hand without beginning -to peel it. - -"Then they woke me up and said it was morning and time to go to -hospital. I went over and hurried right up to her room. And there----" -she paused and stared at the henhouse. Then she started again. "There -was her bed and the mark of somebody, but she wasn't there. My legs just -gave out. I yelled, I guess, and a nurse came and _I_ said 'Where is -Mamma?' and the nurse said, 'Well, miss, we're crowded so we sent her -away.' I said, 'Where to?' Even then I didn't understand. She looked at -me queer and said, 'To the morgue.' - -"That's how I was told.... Well, I started out and I met my brother Tom, -and he said, 'Are you all right, Silvy?' - -"I said, 'Yes, I'm all right.' - -"He said--he's the sweetest thing in the world, Tom is, if he _is_ my -brother and I oughtn't to say it--'You sure you can walk?' - -"I said, 'Yes, I can walk. Where's the morgue?' - -"So we went over there together, and when I saw it----" - -"It was that building with the pillars?" asked Blake. - -"The very one," said Mrs. Bush. "And then Dad died too." - -She put her hands down among the potato peelings and thought about it -for a minute. - -"But it worries me, what she must think of me," she said. "If I had only -known she was dying. Dying, in front of my eyes, and me not doing -anything about it. I wish she'd let me tell her. Lots of times I feel -people I used to know around me, listening to me when I'm talking to -them. The way you do in your head. But I never have that feeling about -her. If she'd only let me tell her." - -Blake said, "Oh, she knows." - -"How do _you_ know?" cried Mrs. Bush, savagely. - - - - - CHAPTER ELEVEN - - -The screen-door slammed once, and Girt looked up hopefully, but decided -it was a breeze. She should have known better, for there had been no -breeze in Santa Fe for a week. But she was deep in the latest copy of -"Screenland" and could spare time only for the paper bag of chocolates -next to her. - -The door slammed three times, and Teddy called out indignantly, "Anybody -home?" - -"Teddy!" she squealed joyfully, and jumped up. "I was just wondering -when you'd come back. Come in and tell me about it. Where did you go and -what happened? You've got a swell sunburn." - -He stepped inside and kissed her perfunctorily. "I want some lemonade," -he said. "Have you got any? If you haven't I'm going down to the plaza, -and I wish you'd tell Blake when he comes----" - -"I can make some in a minute," she said. "Sit down and cool off. How did -you know I wasn't out of town?" - -"Passed by La Fonda and Margaret told me. Where are the cigarettes?" - -"On the mantel," she called from the kitchen, and began to chop ice -vigorously. "Now tell me about the Navajo country. What happened?" - -"Not much. Blake can tell you when he comes: I'm meeting him here. We -got home late last night--Mrs. Saville-Sanders wanted to stop overnight -in Albuquerque and they were having the Masonic Convention and all the -hotels were full. You should have seen her!" He giggled. "She stood up -and insisted on having rooms for all of us, and it didn't do the -slightest bit of good, naturally. So then she was crushed and wouldn't -speak for two hours on the way up, and we were all very tactful and -didn't say anything." She could hear him roaming about the room, -stopping here and there to pick things up and put them down again. When -she came back with a pitcher and glasses, he was staring disgustedly at -a small oil painting on the wall. - -"Why do you keep that kind of stuff around?" he asked. - -"It's Flo, and she said it's worth a lot of money. Here's your -lemonade." - -"Well, here's to luck." - -"Is there any left for me?" Blake came in and sat down, panting from the -heat. He held out his hand pleadingly for a glass. - -"Did you like it?" Gin asked him. "The Reservation, I mean." - -"It was grand," said Teddy. "We took a private jaunt into the country -and learned how to trade. We made plans to take out a license and start -a post of our own. Oh, but the really important plan...." - -"Look here," Blake interrupted, "you're _not_ going around talking about -that, are you?" - -"Gin's safe," Teddy argued. - -"She's not. Nobody's safe. Are you trying to ruin it? We promised we -weren't going to speak of it at all, to anyone. He's been in town four -hours," he added despairingly to Gin, "and everybody has heard all about -it!" - -"No, they haven't. I swear they haven't, Blake," Teddy said. "Don't get -all worked up. I just thought she'd be interested: she's perfectly safe, -honestly." - -"Go on, Blake," said Gin. "I won't tell. I never tell anything." - -Sulkily, he answered, "Well, it isn't very much. We're running away." - -She had a sudden pang of fear. "Running away? Where? When?" - -"We're not sure about anything: it's all very nebulous," Teddy -explained. "That's why we're not telling. It will probably be after -Fiesta, just before Blake has to go back to school. We're aiming for -Mexico, and of course Mrs. Lennard mustn't have any idea of it. You will -be careful, won't you?" - -"Certainly I will. But...." She hesitated, her mind struggling against -despair. "You make me sick. What'll I do without you?" - -"Come along," Teddy said easily. "The more the merrier." - -"Madden!" Blake was outraged again. "You don't really take it seriously -at all. I don't think you mean to come." - -She leaned forward eagerly. "But why can't I come? I'd be useful, really -I would. I'd do the cooking for you. I'll try to save up something -before we start. Please! Honest, Blake, I'm serious. I am. Couldn't I -come? Would it really spoil it all if I came?" - -"It's all right with _me_," said Teddy. "Why not, Blake?" - -"Because...." - -"Oh, you don't want me," she cried. "You _are_ afraid I'll spoil it. Let -me come. If it looks as if I'll spoil it, I'll take the next train back. -But let me try. _Please_. If you don't, I'll get up another expedition -by myself, and I'll probably be killed. Go on, Blake. Say yes." - -"Oh," he said, relenting, "I guess it doesn't make much difference if we -keep it down to three. You're not joking?" He searched her face -seriously, and she tried to look as intense as possible. "All right," he -decided, "we'll all go. But remember if anyone hears about it it's all -off." - -"I promise faithfully," she said. - -Teddy stood up and reached for his racket. "It's time we're shoving off. -Coming along, Gin? You can watch us play." - -"Not this trip. Don't you want another round of lemonade to pledge the -business?" - -"I'm full up," Blake said, and Teddy added, "Better not; we'll splash -when we play. Never mind." - -"Well then, we'll just shake on it." - -They clasped hands and she watched them from the side windows as they -drove away. After they were out of sight she stood there, staring at a -most uninteresting house across the street and thinking so deeply that -she didn't hear Flo come in. "What on earth are you looking at?" Flo -said in her ear, and she jumped. - -"Are you here already? It must be late." - -"No, I'm early. Oh, goody. Lemonade! You're an angel. Did anyone call -me?" - -"Call? Well, let's see if I can remember...." - -"You imbecile," Flo said pleasantly. "Did Russell call?" - -"Oh, Russell. Of course he did, constantly, all the time, perpetually. -_I_ wish you'd tell him to phone the office instead. I get all excited -when the phone rings, and it's always Russell for you." - -"Why not?" Flo went over to the mirror and started to comb her hair. -"Don't you like him?" - -"Oh, he's all right, I guess. Are you going to marry him?" - -"I don't know. What do you think about it?" She sat down on the couch -and put her arms around her knees. "I guess I could if I tried. He's -doing pretty well at the office. What do you think?" - -Gin said promptly, "Oh, marry him. You said you wanted to be married. I -don't know why, but you said so." - -"All right. I'll marry him." Flo laughed suddenly and picked up the -phone. "I'll tell him now." Just then it rang, and she picked up the -receiver. "Hello. Just a minute, I'll see." Covering the transmitter -with her hand, she whispered to Gin, "It's for you; it sounds like -Harvey. What'll I say?" - -"Let me talk to him.... Hello!" - -"Hello, Gin. Say, listen...." - -"How are you, Harvey?" - -"I'm all right. Listen, can't we talk this thing over? I miss you a lot. -Let's have dinner tonight." - -Suddenly, happily indifferent to all quarrels that had any connection -with Santa Fe, she answered, "All right. Come along at six-thirty." - -"Well," Flo cried, "When did all this happen?" - -"Just now." She handed the phone over. "Now call your Russell." She went -into the kitchen and started to clean up, throwing away the lemon-peels. -She sang loudly and happily, until her roommate called through the door -in protest. - - "Sing me a song of a lad that is gone: - Say, could that lad be I?..." - -On a sudden impulse, she shouted to Flo, "When you get married would you -want this apartment?" - -"Me? I'm not really getting married. Did you take me seriously?" - -"Oh, I don't know. I thought maybe you'd like to keep it." She emptied a -plate into the garbage pail, clattering it cheerfully. - -"Russell can't get married yet anyway: he hasn't enough money. Why do -you ask? Are you thinking of moving anywhere?" - -"Not at all," Gin said, and threw the dish-towel against its hook on the -wall. "Not in the _least_." - - - - - CHAPTER TWELVE - - -The car couldn't quite make the hill. Blake shifted gears carelessly, so -that they made a terrifying noise and his teeth hurt. Then he settled -down again behind the wheel and resumed his gloomy thoughts. The little -twists and turns in the road had become second nature to him and nothing -interfered with his meditations. He was occupied with a premature regret -for a beautiful day which was really just started. For him it was over. -He had hurried with his breakfast, very cheerful and making plans in his -mind to go right down to the plaza afterwards and see what was going on -in town. Probably there would be nothing, but at least he could spend a -pleasant morning talking to someone, lounging in front of the Capitol -Drug Store and having a Coca-Cola now and then. Besides, who knows? -Someone new and exciting might happen along. - -Then Mary spoiled it all. He could not blame her as much as he wished, -for after all it was simply another morning and she would have been sure -to act the same way some other day if she had postponed it this time. It -was just one of those conversations. And yet once again he was -overwhelmed with that sense of the world outside of him, expecting him -to rise up and act in some preposterous worthwhile manner. The world of -the adult was perilously close. He hated to be reminded of it. - -"Blake darling," she had said, "are you doing anything this morning?" -Harmless enough as far as it went. He answered without suspecting -anything. - -"Nothing special. Can I help you?" - -"If you would. I haven't anyone to send up to Sunmount with some flowers -I promised to Mrs. Meriwether, because Paul is busy over at the garage -overhauling the Packard, and I'll need it this afternoon. I did promise -Mrs. Meriwether, and the poor thing's so ill. Could you _possibly_----" - -"Certainly. I'll take them over now, if you like." He stood up and -pushed back his chair. - -"Wait a minute, dear. It isn't so important that it can't wait a little. -I've been waiting for a chance to talk to you." - -He hesitated, badly frightened at her tone. Something was going to -happen; something unpleasant. - -"It's about school." - -He sat down again slowly and hopelessly. "I knew it," he said. "What -about it?" - -"Well.... Here's a letter from the people in California. They're willing -to take you for the next year; isn't that nice?" - -"No, it isn't." He mused bitterly and added, "How do you know they're -willing? They haven't even seen me." - -"Well, I pointed out to them that there wasn't much time for -preparation. I explained about your last school----" - -"Did you have to?" he asked quickly. - -"Yes, darling. I was very fair to you, I think. I said that I understood -that they had a modern viewpoint, and I said I was sure they'd agree -that the preliminary meeting was a formality that wasn't really -important. I must say that they sound extremely reasonable. They seem to -agree to everything I say. In fact, I'm sure it will turn out very -well." - -He tried to answer her, but at his expression she laughed. "Oh, darling, -don't look so miserable! What a baby you are!" - -"Listen," he said desperately. "I've been talking about this place to -Phyllis and she says it's terrible." - -"Does she? I'm surprised at Phyllis. Her mother said that she was very -happy there." - -"She doesn't know how terrible it is: she's too dumb. But I could tell -from what she said. She says they understand the kids." He spoke in deep -loathing. - -"Well? Why do you object to that?" - -"Oh, what's the use?" he cried. - -"Blake! What do you propose to do with yourself if you don't go to -school? You can't go on like this." - -"Why not?" he asked, without any real hope. - -"Besides, when you grow up you won't be satisfied with yourself. You're -just a baby, really. I know you don't think of yourself that way, but -you are. An ignorant little child. I can't let you grow up without -learning any more, can I? How will you ever get into college?" - -He answered quickly, "But I keep telling you, I don't want to go to -college. I won't go." - -"You'll change your mind when the time comes," she said benevolently. - -He drew pictures on the tablecloth with a fork, and tried hard to think -of what he could say. He would feel his way. - -"Listen. Why can't I go away somewhere and have a private education? -Lots of people send their sons abroad with tutors. Couldn't you do that? -Why can't I go to a foreign country and study languages? If I studied a -language I would be learning something. Let me go to Europe or China -or----" - -"That wouldn't be possible. Not at your age." - -"What has my age got to do with it?" - -"Darling, I couldn't think of letting you go away alone." - -"But if someone should go with me?" - -She stood up and gathered her letters. "Let's not argue, dear. _I_ -wouldn't think of it. You're too young to be that far away from your -family; the Ashton boy got into a lot of trouble in Paris and I don't -want to see it happen to you. You won't understand: I can't expect you -to understand, but you must take my word for it. Hadn't you better get -the flowers and go to the sanatorium?" - -Now as he left the car in the shade of a cottonwood he reflected that it -was a good thing he hadn't told her about Mexico. He had almost said -something about it, but she had interrupted. At any rate--he rang the -bell at the white stuccoed gate--one thing was certain: he would run -away in spite of any objection that Teddy might raise at the last -minute. He trusted Teddy to come along if it should get too hot for them -in town, but he would need a little managing to crash through promptly. -Teddy or no Teddy, however, he must get out of all this or before he -knew it he would be on the train with all his text-books packed into the -baggage-car. He thought of the new school. A horrible place most likely, -with the walls as white as the gate here, whitewashed and lined with -dreadful grinning scientific instructors, all understanding him. -Understanding him! That was the limit. - -He held out the flowers to the assistant and gave the name of his -mother's friend. - -"She's a little better," the assistant said. "You may see her if you -care to." - -"No thanks. I--I'm too busy." He hurried out again and climbed into the -car. The place always made him nervous, and he could not even remember -which of his mother's sick friends was Mrs. Meriwether. He could not -face the idea of following a nurse down the corridor to find out. He was -afraid of the place; all the quiet little white rooms with windows -opening on the green patio. He had spent many hours here and there, -sitting on little straight-backed chairs while his mother visited -people. Which was Mrs. Meriwether? There was one woman who was thinner -every time they came: she always wore pink or blue voile bed-jackets and -her hands were skinny and very clean, with shining red fingernails. She -kept talking about her fingernails and her lotions and the doctors who -were in love with her. Some of the patients were in love with her too, -she said. Mary was always very gentle about her afterwards, and never -said much on the way home. - -Perhaps that was Mrs. Meriwether, or perhaps she was the other one, the -jolly one with red hair whose room always smelled sickeningly of ether. - -He looked around and found that he had driven all the way down town, and -he hadn't intended to take the car down. He started around the plaza, -meaning to go back. As he passed the Cathedral he heard an unfamiliar -voice calling; it sounded like his name. There it was again--"Blake! -Blake!" - -He stopped suddenly and the Oklahoma Ford that had been plodding along -behind him turned out so sharply that the fenders kissed and made a -ringing noise. - -"Damn fool!" called the driver from Oklahoma. Blake looked after him -nervously and then turned to see who had called. There was a line of -cars parked at the kerb, but he could see no one. Exasperated, he backed -and looked closely. - -"Blake! Here! It was me." A girl leaned from one of the autos, waving at -him. He brought the car up next to hers, but could not recognize her. It -was very confusing because she undoubtedly knew him very well. - -He tried to hide his hesitation. "Oh, hello," he said feebly. "I -couldn't see you. How have you been?" - -"I'm fine. Where were you going in such a hurry?" - -She must know him, but who was she? - -"Nowhere. Nowhere special. Would you like to come for a ride?" It was a -long shot, but there seemed to be nothing else to do. - -She obviously wanted to, but---- - -"Do you think I'd better?" She glanced over her shoulder at the church. -"I'm waiting for my mother and father. They are at mass. I didn't want -to go in and they told me to wait for them." - -"I'm sorry." He stepped on the starter, but she said quickly, - -"Just a minute. I think it will be all right, just a little ride. You -will get me back soon?" Without waiting for an answer she climbed over -the side of the battered door and stepped into his car next to him. This -activity exposed a good deal of black cotton stocking _(where_ had he -known her?) and she giggled and jerked her skirt down. - -"I don't know if we can go very far," he said doubtfully. "How long will -they be in there? Where should we drive?" - -"Let's go out to the Albuquerque road. I must be back in ten minutes. It -is safer there, because no one will see us." - -"Why shouldn't they see us?" he asked wonderingly. - -She laughed excitedly and glanced at him with black eyes that looked -like kitten's. Where on earth could they have known each other? There -was certainly something about her that seemed familiar, but who was she? -Had she ever been at the house? Perhaps she had, but if so when? And yet -he had a memory that her name was Maria. Certainly, that much he -knew--Maria. - -"I have not seen you for a long time," she told him. "I think it has -been a month." - -This was even more mystifying. He answered, "I know, I've been busy." - -"So have we," she said. "We have been very busy because Mr. Lyons has -started a beautiful big picture. I work very hard with him." - -Suddenly he knew. She was the little girl who posed for Tommy Lyons when -he did his Mexican murals. Maria Martinez: Mrs. Lyons was very fond of -her and treated her like a daughter. He'd been up at Lyons' one day with -Mary, trying to prevent her buying a picture from Tommy, and Maria had -been posing with a jar on her shoulder. That was all. He was glad that -he knew, though. - -"How is Teddy?" she was asking. "I never see him any more. I ask -Revelita why he is never at home, but she says nothing about him. I -cannot make her talk." - -"Revelita? Who is that?" - -"She works for Meester Stuart. You know--Revelita. Teddy was much in -love with her." - -"No, he wasn't," said Blake angrily. "You're crazy." - -Maria stuck her nose up in the air. "You ask him," she said. "Ask him -about Revelita and see how he looks." - -Slightly worried, Blake did not argue with her. He had an instinct about -it: if he stopped talking about it perhaps he could forget. Maria waited -for more conversation, and when it was not forthcoming she changed the -subject. - -"I see you with Teddy all the time. Every afternoon, nearly, you pass -the window when you go to play tennis. I am working every day now in the -afternoon. Mr. Lyons is very nice, I think. Mrs. Lyons too, she is a -nice lady. She says she will find work for me with the other artists -when it is time for them to go away in the fall." - -"That would be fine," Blake said absently. Teddy had never even -mentioned Revelita. - -"But my mother will not let me. Mr. Lyons she says is all right for me -to work for, but all the other artists are too young, she says. My -mother is very particular." - -She paused sadly, and he said, "That's too bad. That's a shame." - -"Yes, it is," she sighed. "I must go back to the convent in the fall, -she says." - -"You too? That's a shame." - -"It is silly. My mother thinks that the artists might want me to take -off my clothes. She has read about it. I do not want to go back to -school." - -"I know," he said eagerly. "I know just how you feel." - -"I could make so much money by my posing. It is not everyone who can -pose. Mrs. Lyons says so. She says I am a good type. What does she mean -by that? Does she mean that I am pretty? Blake, you are not listening." - -"I am too," he protested. "She means you're strange-looking: your eyes -are strange." - -"Oh, no! You mean--" her voice was hurt "you mean I am ugly. I know!" - -"No, no. You're pretty." He blurted it out, then blushed. - -"Oh. Well, my mother thinks that artists are bad and always make love to -models. It is not true. Mr. Lyons does not make love to me." - -"Of course he doesn't. People don't make love." He hit the railroad -tracks with a great bump, and slowed down. "I say, hasn't it been ten -minutes?" he asked, uneasily. He hoped that he could go back. - -"Not yet surely. Are you afraid? It is nothing to you, is it? Must you -go home?" - -"No, no." He speeded up again. It didn't matter: he couldn't ask Teddy -about it anyway. There must be some mistake. Revelita? No. It was a -mistake. - -"I think," she said, "that you tell all the girls that you meet that -they are pretty. Do you?" - -"Me? Of course not." - -"I think you do," she said. "I think we are driving too far. Let's stop -for a minute and then go back." - -"We ought to go back now," he said. - -"In a minute. I want to smoke." - -"I haven't any cigarettes," he said. "I don't smoke, I'm afraid." - -"You are a very nice little boy," said Maria. - -"Little? I'm older than you are." - -"I think not. I am fifteen." - -"I am sixteen," he said loftily. "I think it is time." - -"What do you do all day in Santa Fe?" she asked. "Do you play tennis?" - -"Most of the time, or ride. This is vacation. What else would I do?" - -She sighed and looked at the mountains. "It must be so nice, playing -tennis. Don't you have a girl? My brother has a girl. He told me. He -comes home so late at night that my father is always angry with him. It -is not fair. I must go to bed every night at ten. Sometimes I think it -is even better at the convent." - -"Are they very strict with you there?" asked Blake. - -Her exclamation was an indrawn breath. "It is terrible. It is a prison." - -"That must be awful." - -"It is terrible. My mother says that they must not know that I pose for -artists. I do not think it is bad, but she says they will think that the -artists always make love. That is silly: my father would kill anyone who -makes love to me. He says so. He would----" - -Suddenly, with no warning at all, she threw her arms around his neck -fervently and dropped her head onto his shoulder. - -Blake did not move noticeably, but his blood froze and his muscles -stiffened. He was petrified with shock. His mind registered a vague -scent of hair, black and rather oily. It tickled his cheek. He waited -for a long time, hoping that she would release him, but she did not even -relax. At last, his resistance broken by waiting, he shifted a little -and put an arm around her tentatively. He stopped again and waited to -see what it felt like. There was no change in his emotions: he simply -noticed that she felt very thin. What could he do? What should he do? He -thought of someone coming around the corner, and he grew more and more -afraid. - -"Oh, Blake," said Maria at last in a high voice, "we are being bad." She -lifted her head and he thought that her face looked very odd at close -view. She was waiting for something. Oh, yes. He struggled with the -conviction that she was waiting for him to kiss her. Would she let go? -He kissed her with a sudden little peck at her lips, and she let go. - -"You're going to be awfully late," he said. - -"Yes, we must go." - -He turned the car and started back, going as fast as he dared. He was -shaking, and so flustered that he almost ran into a tree. He wanted to -get home. He wanted to put her out as soon as possible and get home. Was -this what she meant about Revelita? Now he couldn't possibly ask Madden -anything about it: some day, perhaps---- - -"You're not very fast, are you?" she asked him, breaking the silence for -the first time. - -"Well, I could go faster, but I'm afraid of the traffic cop," he -explained. - -"That is not what I mean." - -A sudden scream rang out from the sidewalk, and Maria clutched his arm. -He pulled on the brake and looked over. - -"Maria!" someone was yelling, very stridently. There was a large crowd -on the pavement, made of children and a woman. No, there was a little -man too, standing behind the woman and pulling feebly at her dress. She -was making all the noise, and oddly enough she seemed to be angry at -him, at Blake. He blinked and looked at her again. - -As he stared, terrified, she came over to the car and jerked Maria out -by the arm. She shrieked at him in Spanish, then translated in a louder -tone than ever. - -"But Mamma...." said Maria, and was forced to stop while Mamma screamed. -"Mamma," she wailed at last, "it was all right! It was all right! It was -all right!" - -The little man approached and tried again to soothe Mamma. She swept him -aside and cried to Blake, - -"You have taken my little girl riding! She is only fifteen! I will tell -the police. I will have you put in jail. I will----" - -"It was all right, Mamma. I tell you we were gone only ten minutes. It -was all right." - -Maria turned to Blake and added softly, "Go away, quick!" - -"Her father will kill you," said Mamma loudly. "He will kill you." She -turned and seized the little man by the arm. - -Maria stamped her heel in the dust. "Go _away_," she repeated. - -Blake went. - - - - - CHAPTER THIRTEEN - - -The unexpected boon of a full afternoon holiday during Fiesta left Gin -somewhat embarrassed. She had nothing to do. The afternoon could have -been spent sleeping, for she had had little sleep the night before, what -with dancing in the streets around a bonfire; but she was too excited to -feel sleepy. Time for sleep when Santa Fe had stopped playing and the -town had taken off its costume and gaiety; plenty of time for sleep when -the carpenters would begin to tear down the platform in the corner of -the plaza, and the crepe paper ribbons would hang stretched and faded -from the trees. Now the platform was gay with flags and strewn with -confetti; last night had been a tango contest before the bonfire-dance, -and they were to use it again today for impromptu theatricals--Spanish -songs and Indian dances. All the shops were closed today; all the little -shopgirls, dressed in skimpy shawls and old family combs, filled the -streets to watch the parade. It was Pasatiempo, the day of the Pageant. - -Gin strolled through the streets where she could and paused where she -must. She watched the parade of the Conquerors; tried to listen to the -oration but had to give it up because of inadequate Spanish, and looked -on for a long time at the burlesque polo game that the young bloods were -playing with burros, spurring the unhappy little beasts towards a huge -striped beach ball and catching themselves up on the long mallets. -Afterwards she wandered towards the apartment, half planning to bring -out her own cherished shawl before the evening, when it was to be worn -at the Ball. She thought somewhat of dressing up now, to vie with the -others; she wanted to paint her lips and walk around the plaza, round -and round, while the boys walked the other way and picked out their -maidens for the evening. But she knew that she was tired of standing and -weary of the plaza. She would go riding alone and look down at Santa Fe -from a mountain top. - -She telephoned the stable. Tom was there, but, as he explained, he was -leaving to join the celebration. - -"I didn't count on no trade today," he explained. "I'm meeting a boy -down at the Capitol, but I'll tell you what we can do. I'll leave your -saddle in the hay-box in case you come around here: if not there'll be -no harm done. You catch yourself a horse. Take oats to 'em--Blanco or -the paint will come a-running for oats. Don't let the fence down; just -pick your pony." - -"Thanks, Tom," she said. "I'll be along." - -She changed quickly and walked over to the stable, avoiding the plaza -with its crowd. Blanco fell for the oats: she led him out and tied him -up while she went for the saddle. It was heavy: she had to rest twice -while she carried it back to him. She slung the saddle over his back, -cinched it up and then cinched it tighter as he let his breath out, and -adjusted the bridle. The street had a more than Sunday quiet as she rode -out toward Sunmount: everyone was downtown playing. - -Following the trail up Ferdinand, she raced with the shadow of a cloud. -There was a long smooth stretch that led up imperceptibly: she ran in -the shadow until Blanco looked warm, then she took it easy for a while. -The trail grew steeper and led through trees. She stopped to breathe the -horse, turning him and looking back. Already they were far up and Santa -Fe had begun to mark itself out in squares. She saw autos and trucks -hurrying towards the centre of town to be lost among the higher -buildings. Under the sun her face felt warm and salty; it was nice to be -up here alone. - -She pulled the rein: Blanco ducked obediently and started to climb -again, stepping carefully in the loose rock. She stopped at intervals -that grew shorter as Blanco breathed louder: the horse smell increased -and so did the balsam scent. She let the reins fall slack, twisted -around the horn of the saddle, while she tied her necktie around her -hair to keep it from falling down. The air grew more clear and Blanco's -footsteps sounded doggedly musical. It was lovely. - -At the really steep part of the ascent she paused and looked at her -watch. It was too late to go on: already she had been out an hour and -the sun was starting to fall. She knew that sun and how it gained -momentum. She dismounted and lay down on the grass, holding Blanco's -bridle and looking up at the sky. Long ago the cloud she had raced had -won and gone sailing away, but there were more. Their shadows crossed -her face and went on. Behind them the sky was a deep blue that had lost -its noon ferocity and mellowed. She stirred and rolled her head farther -back until Blanco's head appeared grotesquely in the way, calm and -cowlike as he munched grass. A dribble of green froth barely missed her -head. She rolled away. - -"You pig." - -Blanco stamped and leaned down for another mouthful, nosing her shoulder -out of his way. - -"You're a darling," she said idly and comfortably. "Aren't you an old -darling?" He blinked a huge eye and went on chewing. - -"We've got to go. Do you know that?" she asked. She stood up and looked -down at the valley for a moment. It was streaked with yellow; patches of -yellow flowers that were much more glaring now in the slanting light, -unbleached. The sun was deepening to orange: Santa Fe was almost too -small to be noticed except as part of a great scheme of colour. A breeze -stirred the pine-branches and lifted her hair-ribbon. It smelled almost -salty, as if those misty stretches beyond Jemez were indeed the sea. - -"Oh, it's lovely." She threw her arms around Blanco's neck: he was -nearer than any tree, and as unprotesting. She slapped him on the flank, -climbed up, and dug him in the ribs to start him down the slope, -jouncing uncomfortably. - -It was quite dark when she trotted into the stable yard. The streets -were quiet and lifeless. She tied up the horse and unsaddled him, then -turned him into the corral, where he shook himself and walked over to -the other side with a dignified, heavy gait. There was a light in the -living-room, so she stepped up to the screen door and peered in. Tom was -sitting on the cot with his head in his hands, and he didn't look up -when she knocked. Somewhat mystified, she called him and he raised his -head. - -"Come in," he said, as if he did not recognize her. - -It was very queer. Her clear sense of health and content evaporated. She -stepped in and glanced around, at the bottle on the table and the glass -on the floor next to his feet. Usually when Tom drank he grew jovial. -Was he sick? - -"Have a drink?" he said, dutifully. - -"Not now, thanks. Not just before dinner." Unbidden, she sat down in a -hide chair and watched him curiously. "Say, what's the matter with you? -Don't you feel well?" - -"Me? I'm all right." He leaned over and took the bottle by the neck. -"I'm all right. I just got some private news, bad news, that's all." - -"I'm sorry. Can I help?" - -He shook his head. "Somebody's dead." - -"Why? Do I know them?" - -"No." Holding the glass near the floor, he poured out most of the -contents of the bottle. "He was long before your time, Betty." - -"It's not Betty," she said. "It's Gin." - -"Gin? I beg your pardon. I surely beg your pardon." He added in a dull -tone, "Ginny, Wally's dead." - -"What?" Her hand went up to her mouth. "Wally? Wally's dead? You're -kidding me." He drooped his head again and she jumped up and shook his -arm. "Tom! Please answer me. Did you say that Wally was dead?" - -"Sure he's dead." He looked at her with red-shot eyes. "He was shot. -Them damned Indians in Mexico must a done it. Down at the border: he was -missing a couple of days and his horse came home without the saddle. -They went out looking and found a Yaqui with his outfit--saddle and gun -and all. They couldn't get anything out of him. He claimed he bought it. -Wally's dead all right, and buried." - -"God." Her eyes filled with tears, mechanical reactions. Inside her head -she did not feel ready for tears. She was only shocked and stunned; she -was inadequate. "I can't believe it," she said truthfully. "He can't be -dead. Why, I knew him!" - -"Why not? He had a good outfit and he was American." He slumped down to -the cot again and sat in an attitude of maudlin grief, almost -theatrical. "Three weeks ago, I gave him hell for leaving Pinto tied by -a rope in his mouth. He was always forgetful. I said I'd skin him alive -if he did it again while I was anywheres around. Now he's dead and -buried." - -Gin stood motionless, seeing Wally outlined in clay like the prehistoric -skeletons at the Museum. Fragments of coffin strewed the ground around -him and he lay stiff, with one arm above his head and his sunken eyes -closed and withered. She thought of his arms again. They were huge arms -that had often caught her as she jumped off her horse, they smelled of -horses and perspiration, and he was fond of a certain checked shirt that -he often wore. It was that same shirt that he was wearing now, buried in -the clay. No, he would not be wearing his shirt. The checked shirt was -in a Yaqui's bundle now, flung into the corner of a hut in Mexico, with -a bloody hole in it. Wally was naked and dead and buried. Buried. - -Tom had slipped down to the table; his head, clutched in his arms, was -sideways on the table and his eyes were closed. Asleep? She poured a -drink out for herself and swallowed it. She patted his head. - -"You go to sleep," she said. "I'm going home." - -It was only after she had walked three blocks that she began to know -Wally was dead; dead as everyone was dead that she read about in the -newspapers. It was not a new thing, after all. Wally was dead and Mother -was dead and Billy the Kid was dead. All of them, all dead and buried. -The weight of horror lifted a little and she began to think that she -would miss Wally. She could cry in earnest. - -She reached the apartment: the door was locked and she had forgotten the -key. Sobbing with increasing vigour, she lifted the screen from the -front window, raised the sash, and climbed in. She found the sofa in the -dark and lay down. - -Outside in the street an automobile passed, swishing by the wall. -Someone was carrying a Victrola in it and playing a record. She -remembered the Ball tonight and sat up, with her head throbbing. What -time was it? Had Harvey called before she got home? No, it couldn't be -that late. She leaped up and turned on the light. Eight o'clock, and the -room was in a mess of cigarette stubs and clothes flung over all the -chairs. Flo must have put on her costume in a hurry. - -The 'phone suddenly began to ring, and she picked it up. - -"Gin?" It was Harvey. "I've been calling for hours: they said at the -office you were in town all afternoon. Where've you been?" - -"Oh, I went riding." - -"Well, gosh, I thought you'd run out on me. Are you ready?" - -"Listen, Harvey, I can't go." She paused, then repeated, "I can't." - -"What? Why not? Are you sick? You sound sick. What----" - -"No, but something terrible has happened." - -"What is it?" - -"Wally's dead." - -"Who's dead?" - -"Wally, down at the stable." - -"Oh, that's a darned shame. That's too bad. What killed him?" - -"The Indians." - -"_What?_ Come off!" - -"No, the Mexican Indians. Yaquis or something. They shot him for his -horse and saddle, and he's dead." - -"That's certainly a darned shame. I don't think I ever knew him, -but----Well, why can't you come out tonight, anyway?" - -"Why, Harvey. I can't. Don't you see? I can't go." - -"No, I don't see." He sounded very irritated. "You mean because this -cowboy is dead? What's that got to do with you? Were you crazy about -this bird?" - -"No, but...." she hesitated. It was hard to express. "Don't you see, -he's dead and buried and all that. I can't go on a party. I knew him. I -used to go riding with him, and now he's----" - -"Say," he said flatly, "I don't see that at all. You're just worked up -over nothing. You're alone down there, aren't you?" - -"Ye-es." Her voice was uncertain. - -"Now I tell you what you'd better do. You wash your face and get ready -and I'll be right down, as soon as I get dressed. I've got to shave. Is -there anything to drink down there?" - -"I don't know." She spoke humbly. She was beginning to feel very foolish -and useless. - -"Well, you fix a drink and take it. That'll help you. You've just got -the blues, that's all. It's a shame he's dead, but you better take a -drink. I'll be back as soon as I can." - -He was very comforting, but she wished that he hadn't called just then. -She looked dolefully into the bathroom mirror, at her swollen streaked -face. Why did she always have to act so dramatic? She rubbed cold cream -into her cheeks and felt the tank. There was enough hot water for a -bath. - -Harvey came before she was ready and she shouted through the door that -he must come in and wait. When she came out, wrapped in a bathrobe, he -was standing at the window with his pipe in his mouth, looking -masculine. - -"I'm sorry I was so cuckoo," she murmured, sincerely. - -"That's all right. I brought something over." He waved towards the -couch, on which there were parcels--sandwiches and candy and a bunch of -red roses. - -"Oh, Harvey: you're a darling. I've been so nasty to you." - -She made him eat some chocolate and put a rose in his buttonhole. He was -not in costume, except that he had wrapped a red sash around his waist. - -"Now you make me feel that I'd better not get dressed up," she said. -"We'd look funny all different." - -"No, you go ahead. These affairs are given for the girls anyway. Go on: -I'll wait." - -She dressed in the kitchen--bouffant black skirt and purple fringed -shawl, with a high comb and a mantilla. He was pleased with her when she -came out. - -"You look swell," he said. "Regular Senorita. Give us a kiss." - -She held up her face. - -"That's the kid," he said. "Not sore at me any more?" - -"No, You've been awfully sweet." - -They drove over to the theatre and although it was half an hour late, -nothing had started. A crowd of costumed people were in the lobby. Gin -paused at the door and looked around for Flo. She was over in the corner -with Russell and a party of friends. - -"Wait a minute," she told Harvey. "I've got to talk to Flo." - -Holding her roses carefully, she wedged a way through the crowd to -Russell and plucked at her roommate's arm. - -Russell turned and greeted her. "Golly, who's your beau?" he asked. -"Flo, look at the flowers." - -Gin pulled Flo off a little way. "I've been dying to find you," she -said. What was it she had to tell? Then she remembered Wally. Even now, -soon as it was after the catastrophe, she was shamedly conscious of a -sort of pleasant anticipation, the prospect of causing a sensation with -her news, the expression that she could foresee on Flo's brightly -interested face. - -"I heard about something this afternoon," she went on. Again she was -swamped by the calamity and carried out of herself. The truth of it hit -her again, as it had on the road home. - -Dead and buried. She pictured to herself his closed eyes and the clay. - -She stopped smiling. The corners of her mouth dulled and her eyes grew -wide. - -"You know Wally...." - - - - - CHAPTER FOURTEEN - - -"Teddy! Teddy!" The call had sounded so often that to Teddy himself his -name had undergone that strange transformation where it had become a -senseless word, without end or meaning. He was sick of it. If he heard -it once more, he told himself, he would smash something--preferably the -stage scenery. One prop pulled out and there would be a splendid crash. - -But he had no time to waste, pulling props or contemplating ruin. He was -hurrying as fast as he could. He stacked a heap of gossamer costume on a -rickety chair, started off in answer to a plaintive cry, and then rushed -back just in time to keep the costume from tumbling down. "Teddy! Come -here a minute." There was no time to say "please," no time for anyone to -adopt the usual pretence that they were asking him and not ordering. He -put the costume down again, more firmly, and tore off in the direction -of the ladies' dressing-room. Mrs. Saville-Sanders wanted to be pinned -up. - -"Teddy!" That was Bob, at the other end of the stage. "I need some help -here." - -"Teddy! What in hell did you do with that foundation cream?" - -"Teddy! Come and fix my eyebrows. I look like a ruin. What's the -matter?" - -"Teddy Madden, come and tell me where to put this jar. You stand out -there and look. Do you think so? No, I'm sure you're wrong...." - -"Ted, Gwen Saville-Sanders wants you to fix the flower that goes in her -hair. Hurry up, for God's sake. She's on a rampage." - -He dashed into the dressing-room again and Phyllis Parker snatched up a -wrapper and screamed. Startled, he paused and glanced at her. Her legs -were long and bare beneath the wrapper: she clutched it to her flat -bosom like Diana surprised in the bath, and glared at him. - -"Oh, don't be such a damn fool!" he snarled, overwhelmed by the -imbecility of it. "D'you think I have _time_...." - -"Teddy! Teddee.. ee.. ee." A maliciously long-drawn wail that set his -teeth on edge. He was dripping with sweat and his face was smeared with -dust and plaster. For a quarter of an hour the audience had been -clapping spasmodically, now someone had started them off on a slow, -ominous, steady applause that beat on his ears terrifyingly. Well, what -if they did get tired and go home? Of course they wouldn't, but what if -they did? He would be glad. He wanted more than anything in the world to -go into a corner and sleep; if anyone called him he would show his teeth -like a rat. One more idiot yelling for him.... - -The stage director came in and held up his hand, spreading an area of -quiet through the crowd until it reached the outer corners. - -"Silence! Silence! please. Everyone _must_ be more quiet. I was out in -the back, the very back, and I could hear you all the way out there. -Please be more careful, even if you are excited. Now then, is everyone -ready? Are all the props in place? Madden, have you looked it all over? -All right then. I'm going to give the signal.... Curtain!" - -In the hush behind the scenes following the creaking of the curtain, -Teddy escaped and crept out into the audience through the side door. He -wiped his face and tried to relax, refusing to look about him, even at -the stage, until he should have regained his temper. The affair was well -under way when he allowed himself to look. - -Well, it seemed to be going without too much of a hitch. It was -impossible to follow it closely after so many rehearsals. Unless someone -made a new error, he wouldn't even notice the customary little slips -that they were so used to. He was fogged, worn out. His head drooped to -one side and he began to breathe with a dangerous regularity, then -caught himself up and straightened his back. The trouble was that he had -not had a drink all day. He had promised Mrs. Saville-Sanders to see to -it that no one was drunk at the opening of the Vaudeville, and in the -face of careful taboo, how could he have managed to take anything for -himself? No, it was better this way. But now it was safe: as soon as he -had a chance he'd get something. No one would be able to last through -the Ball without a little help. His head slumped down again. - -Through the uncomfortable doze he heard the long-drawn clapping that -meant the end of the first act. He sat up quickly as the lights went on. -They'd be needing him. He went back to the stage door, stopping with -Billy Trewartha, who was in charge of the curtain. - -"Got a drink?" he asked. It was an unnecessary question, since he had -stopped Billy twice from taking nips before the show started. Billy -harboured no grudge, however. He took a flask out and mounted guard -while Teddy did his best to repair his nerves. - -The second act was launched and he went back to his old seat. The -audience was taking it pretty well. Of course the people in front would -like it because it was a family affair, but these chaps didn't have to -applaud unless they meant it. The broad comedy went over much better -than the highbrow offerings. Natural enough, he reflected; it was really -much better. He craned his neck and took one glimpse of the front rows, -then sat back, satisfied with their carefully appreciative expressions. - -Next act started off awkwardly, some mix-up with the lights to begin -with, and a lot of frantic flashing--yellow and red and blue, each new -colour greeted with irreverent applause. The curtain went up before it -should have, too. Perhaps Billy had finished the flask too soon. Oh -well, it was not too bad. The light was fixed at last as it should be; a -single red beam at the corner of the stage. Then Phil Ray stepped into -it and walked slowly, or rather danced--for his step was controlled and -deliberate--to the centre. His arm was raised, covering his eyes, and he -crouched as he walked. In the centre of the stage he stopped, turned -slowly in a series of notes from the music, and paused again. The -playing was louder, working up to a crescendo. He dropped his arms, -stretched them down along his sides, then flung them back and stood with -his chest high, his ribs sharply serrated, his neck ridged with shadow -as his head fell back. The shaded half of his body looked purple in the -red light, shining from an angle. He was naked. - -There was a stir, a gathering disturbance in the audience. Suddenly the -rustling and whispering concentrated in the centre of the second row. In -the darkness Teddy thought he saw a great moving shadow. What could it -be? Someone was talking, forgetting to whisper. Someone was arguing. An -usher opened the door into the lobby and held it; someone was going out. -The electric light streamed in from the back, near Teddy, and -illuminated the majestic form of Mrs. Montgomery Pearson, walking out of -the door. She walked like a sacred elephant, and her jet necklace swung -back and forth across her armoured bosom. She moved slowly, with upheld -nose but downcast eyes, into the pure air of the outer night; after her, -blinking a little and stooping more than usual beneath the horrid burden -of so many astounded stares, Mr. Montgomery Pearson followed with her -shawl. - -The door swung shut behind them and the house was in darkness again. -Only the red light persisted, shining on the imperturbable Phil, who -went on dancing. Teddy managed to get backstage just as the act ended. - -Back there they were not taking it as humorously as he had expected. -Phil came off the stage in a fit of hysteria and everyone was comforting -him. The place was in a mess: everyone was indulging in the luxury of -indignation, and Teddy leaped into the middle of it until the -stage-manager extricated him and sent him forth to calm down the -performers. Bob was the most militant: he was all for sending the -Pearsons out of town by official order from the Mayor. - -"I can see the humour of it as quickly as anyone can, my dear boy," he -explained to Teddy, "but damn it, we must protect the colony. What's to -happen to free speech and all that if we allow the bigots to criticize -us?" - -"I'll start circulating a petition tomorrow," said Gwen. "Teddy, remind -me of it in the morning." - -"Teddy," said the stage-manager, "see if you can't make the property men -get down to work. I promised the undertaker that he can have the chairs -back in time for a bridge party tomorrow." - -"That reminds me," Mrs. Saville-Sanders said, "that I want to talk to -you when you have a moment to spare, Teddy." - -Phil plucked at his arm and asked him feebly if it would be wise to -bring action for libel. Bob thought that it would, and walked off with -him, saying, "I'll give you the address of my attorney in Albuquerque." - -"Before I forget," Mrs. Saville-Sanders persisted, "I want to ask you to -be sure to come to my bridge on the eleventh, Teddy. Don't forget, will -you? I shall count on you. And I wanted to say that you've been a dear -boy and a great help tonight. I don't know what we should have done -without you." She turned to Bob, who had come back. "That's a nice boy," -she added. - -His heart bounded in triumph. The accolade at last! - -"Teddy! Come here a minute, will you? Someone has got to help me pack up -the costumes." - -He ran gaily to obey the last order of the evening. All was well. His -face was as the face of Wellington after Waterloo. - - - - - CHAPTER FIFTEEN - - -At the door of the Gymnasium, Blake halted suddenly, peered around the -room, and swore under his breath. Hearing his own whispering voice was a -comfort to him, but it did not dispel his panic. It was embarrassing, -torturing, to be so early at the Ball. Anyone seeing him would think -that he was eager. He could not bear to be eager, or to be thought so. -No one had come but the orchestra and a few town people who had not gone -to the Vaudeville. Had they seen him? He withdrew to the darkness -outside and plucked nervously at the elastic that held the tall sombrero -on his head. If anyone should see him now they would think that he was -being kept waiting by someone. Irresolutely he turned and went to his -car, to sit there, he told himself grimly, until he had counted twenty -people going in to fill up that appalling room. - -How had he happened to be so early? He wondered what he was missing, and -had a spasm of jealousy. Now he was sorry that he had dashed so quickly -after the show. He had been so afraid that Mary would ask him to take -Phyllis or Lucy over to the Gymnasium. He had wanted to start this -evening of festival all alone and unhampered. He had gone for a short -drive, the Circle Drive up towards Taos, and had been confident he would -be late. Probably they were still at the theatre, talking about the -Pearson business. - -He crouched there smoking until he had counted his twenty people. He -decided to count ten more before risking an entrance. At twenty-seven he -saw Teddy coming with a crowd, showing the tickets of the party and -carrying coats to be checked and in general being very useful. If Teddy -had come, it would be safe. Blake stood up and went into the Gym. The -orchestra had begun to play listlessly, saving its energy for later. -Teddy greeted him impatiently. - -"Where were you? I lost everybody," he said. "I just picked this crowd -up. Gwen and the others went tooting off and I thought you'd be with -them. Where's your mother? None of them are here. What's the idea?" - -Blake explained that his mother had gone with Mrs. Saville-Sanders for -an extempore committee meeting. "I heard them say they'd have some -coffee and get the important business over with right away. I ran away. -It's probably awfully dull. I wouldn't worry about it." - -Teddy tried to thrust his hands into his pockets, but his velvet -trousers had no pockets. "It's very queer," he said. "Why didn't they -ask me too? I had a lot of things to say; I must say it's queer. Do you -think it means anything?" - -Blake thought he understood. "I hate to miss things, too," he said. "It -isn't anything, though. You weren't on the committee, that's all." - -"I suppose that's why." Teddy looked at the door. "Here they are now, -anyway. Whatever it was, it didn't take long." - -The room had filled and the officials of the party had begun to line -people up for the Grand March. Mary, loitering behind with the matrons, -tried to persuade Blake to go in, but he resisted her. - -"You go in, if you want to," he suggested. "I haven't any partner; I -don't want to go. You walk with Madden. He wants to march." - -They walked off arm in arm and he climbed to a bench and stood perched -on high, to see more clearly. It was very colourful and pleasant; the -Gymnasium did not look exactly like a palace, but it didn't look at all -like a schoolroom. In the centre, the marchers were lined up and the -orchestra began to play "La Cucha-racha." They marked time, moved, -started off, and he saw them one by one as they passed. Some of the -costumes were beautiful. Many of them had no appreciable connection with -the period of the Conquistadores, but no one cared about that. The -girls, at least, were faithful to their conceptions of Spain. There were -short-skirted women with flat black hats, and long-skirted girls very -bouffant and draped with lacy shawls. There were women with mantillas -and women who had had to tie their high combs to their heads with silver -ribbons or elastics, to hold them on in spite of their Eton crops. Some -women had dressed for evening and then had relented enough to put roses -in their hair. The men were armoured knights and cowboys and trappers -and Indians. All sorts of Indians. Some were dressed in costumer's -leather and buckskin and some were last-minute affairs of plain shirts -with tails out, and moccasins. Phil Ray had rebelled at the -indeterminate Indian tendency: in reaction he was wearing a slouch cap -and checked trousers from one of his dance costumes, and if anyone asked -him why, he retorted, "I'm an Apache." - -Everyone--men and women--had taken advantage of the Carnival to do what -they wanted to do in the matter of paint. Boys were languishing and -red-lipped, with fierce cork mustaches and Vandykes and heavy hairy -eyebrows. Girls' cheeks flamed orange and scarlet. As the room grew -warmer, everyone began to streak slightly. - -Three times they marched round the room until Blake was heartily tired -of "La Cucha-racha." So was someone else. A determined young man stepped -from the march and went up to whisper into the ear of the orchestra -leader. The signal was given, the tune changed at last, and the line -melted into a dance. Blake remembered his duty and climbed down to claim -Mary until the first intermission after the dance. Afterwards he went -back to the line of wall-flowers to watch the others. He was standing -behind a line of old women who had "just come to look on," and listened -to what they were saying while he kept his eyes fixed on the dancers. -They were amusing, but horrible. They were so spiteful and helpless. The -worst of it was that they all agreed; if one of them said something they -all nodded and added to the statement. They agreed on the prettiest -costume; they nodded in concert if one of them ventured a view on the -morals of some unfortunate girl who danced by. - -During the third dance, well on towards midnight, he plucked up courage -enough to leave the faded ladies and claim Gin for a dance. She was in -high spirits. He had watched her from across the floor; now that she was -in his arms breathing in his face he understood better why she was so -excited. Corn liquor, probably. They went twice around the room without -speaking. - -"Are you having a good time?" she asked him then. "You look glum." - -"Not very. Does anyone?" - -"Oh I do," she said. "I love crowds, don't you? Everybody in the world -is here. Even from Taos. It's simply marvelous. Have you seen Phil? -Isn't he rare?" - -He glanced at her obliquely and decided that she was pretending. No one -could be enjoying it, really. Everyone was trying too hard, as they -always did in crowds. He was depressed. Merry-making always seemed to -leave him out. Was it his own fault? Of course the wags were busy, being -clownish. Clowns were always too busy to think about enjoyment itself. -Why couldn't he be like that? If he could even stop thinking about -himself it would be more comfortable, but he couldn't. No one ever -could. Mary couldn't, or Teddy. - -The dance was ended; she took his arm and started to lead him from the -room. - -"Where are we going?" he asked suspiciously. - -"Out to the car. I want a drink, don't you? Harvey's waiting." - -"No. If you don't mind, I won't come along." He was afraid of Harvey; -afraid that he would be in the way. Harvey had danced with Gin held very -close, in a very proprietary manner. - -She tugged at him. "Come along. You don't have to drink if you don't -want to, but please come on. Please. I hate sitting out there alone with -him." - -That settled it and he stopped short. "No," he said flatly. "No I -won't." - -She cried out impatiently and began to argue, as he knew she would. But -whatever she was saying, he did not hear; he was suddenly listening to -another voice behind him, that struck him with terror. - -"There's Blake Lennard," he heard, and knew it was Maria. "Oh Blake! -turn around." - -He obeyed, but he was very fearful. Maria was hanging to the arm of Mrs. -Lyons, and she was dressed magnificently in a Spanish dress of black -lace. Inherited, probably. She narrowed her eyes as she smiled and he -thought nervously that she looked like the--was it basilisk or obelisk? -Mrs. Lyons, always stupid, now beamed at them maternally as Maria seized -his free arm. Maria ignored Gin completely. "Aren't you going to dance -with me?" she asked him. - -"Surely. See you later--just a minute." He pulled away and hurried out, -with Gin looking back wonderingly at the little girl. - -"Good heavens. Who is that little vamp? What's been going on between -you?" She was giggling. - -"Where's the car?" he asked impatiently. "I'd better stay a while." - -Harvey, when they found him packed down in the back seat of his auto, -was very jovial, and if he objected to Blake's presence he at least gave -no indication of it. He was very insistent upon sharing his bottle. - -Blake still held out. "I don't like the taste, really." - -"He's got to keep his wits about him tonight," Gin explained, and patted -his shoulder affectionately. "Don't you make him take anything if he -doesn't want to. He's saving himself for a little girl back there who's -waiting for a dance. You ought to see her, and the way she looks at -him!" She laughed heartily. "Blake's been carrying on behind our backs, -that's what the trouble is. Carrying on!" - -"Oh, stop it. Do you really think I ought to go back and dance?" - -"Ought to? How do I know what you've been doing with her? You won't get -home alive if you don't, if that's what you mean." - -He sighed unhappily. "Give me a drink," he asked pleadingly, and Harvey -shouted with laughter. - -He pounded Blake on the back as he handed him the little cup. "That's -the boy. He's all right, he is. _I_ used to think Blake was just a -sissy, but he's all right. One of the boys." - -"Of course he's all right," said Gin. "I always told you he was. Now -he's turned out to be John Gilbert besides." - -"Stop giggling!" Blake flushed with rage. "You're always giggling." - -She giggled again. Harvey put his arm around her and she made no effort -to push him away. In spite of himself, Blake had to look at them. He -couldn't make up his mind what to do. If he started to go they would -object, and insist on his staying. If he went back to the ballroom he -would have to dance with Maria; he couldn't face it. He sat still, being -miserable. He tried to keep his eyes off the shadow that was Gin and -Harvey, twined in each other's arms, but there was no help for it. In -the corridor made by the tonneaus of the cars, lined up in three -straight rows, other people were pouring drinks and sitting close -together. He heard the sounds; whisperings and laughter and soft -chinking. Any evening at the Country Club it was the same. Why did they -come all the way to Santa Fe to do it? He thought again--and again and -again--of that hint Maria had given him about Teddy and Revelita. Teddy -too? He could not believe it. Teddy, who painted so well and talked so -well and was so impatient of all this; just as impatient as he himself -had been. Teddy never mentioned it. Would he never understand the rest -of the people in the world? Was there nothing for it but to go on alone, -travelling by himself through life? He looked disgustedly at Gin, just -as she came to a late realization of his mood, and pulled herself away -from Harvey. - -"Where's Teddy?" she asked, as casually as if she were continuing a -conversation. "I want him. Harvey, go on and get him: you're falling -asleep." - -Harvey stirred and shook his head. "I don't want to. I'm sleepy." - -"Oh, don't be mean. Go and get him. I want to tell him something." - -"I'll get him," said Blake. He leaped out, disregarding her protests, -and went back to the ballroom, forgetting all about Maria until he -reached the door. Then, in a panic, he hid behind a tall girl who was -going in, and looked around fearfully before he started over to Teddy in -the corner. Janie Peabody seized him as he walked by her. He was -surprised, because Janie never noticed him any more than he noticed her. -Now she was very cordial. She insisted on making him sit next to her, -holding his arm and talking very seriously and incoherently. He knew -that she was drunk. He remembered that it was one of the things the old -ladies said when they sat against the wall at parties; Janie drinks too -much. That Peabody girl ought to have more sense. If someone would -persuade her to go to a sanatorium--so sad at her age.... He wondered -how to get away, but he couldn't think fast enough. She wanted to dance. - -Unhappily, he pulled her to her feet and started around the room. It was -unutterably difficult. He couldn't listen properly to the music, and she -was unsteady and leaned heavily on him. When she began to sing he looked -at the floor, and this naturally led to many collisions. He looked up -again, desperately, and just then Janie decided that she was tired and -slumped to the floor. She sat there, laughing. - -"This isn't happening," he thought frantically. "It's a dream." - -He persuaded her to stand up again, pulling her by the wrists, and tried -to lead her to the side of the room. Just then he caught a glimpse of -Mary, white-faced, looking the other way. He had thought that he could -not be more miserable, but when he saw her he reached the limit of his -endurance. He handed Janie over to Trewartha, and then took a deep -breath and walked across the floor to Mary. - -"I was looking for you," he said, abruptly. - -She bowed her head. What was she going to say to him? - -"You look tired," he added. "Would you like to go home? It's pretty -late." - -"Thank you, Blake," she said coldly. "I don't think that I want you to -come with me." - -"Why not?" He suddenly thought he understood. "You don't want me to come -home any more?" - -"Oh, don't be dramatic. Go away, please. Don't stop enjoying yourself." - -His anger with Janie burst out now. "You're the one who's being -dramatic. Very well, I won't come home." - -"That's your own affair." She opened her fan and started to wave it -delicately. "Mother...." - -"Blake, please. We'll talk about it in the morning." - -He muttered, "No we won't," and started away, feeling decidedly ill with -passion. On his way to the door he blundered into Mrs. Lyons, who -stopped him. - -"So you're leaving us?" She smiled down at him with her customary -indiscriminate fondness for youth. - -He managed to collect his manners, saying politely, "It's a nice party, -but I'm sleepy." - -"I didn't mean tonight," she explained. "Wednesday I mean. I understand -you're really leaving on Wednesday. Such a shame, when you're having a -good time! My boys hate to go back to school." - -His jaw dropped as if someone had hit him on the back of the head. -"Wednesday?" - -"Did I misunderstand?" she said. "I'm sure your mother said Wednesday." -"Oh, of course. Yes, Wednesday. Well, I must be going. Good-night." - -But that was in four days! He walked towards Teddy, instinctively -seeking help. Why hadn't she told him? She had been too excited, -probably; she had forgotten or put it off until she would have more time -to argue. He rallied in his despair, and grew calm. - -"Teddy," he said, over Lucy's shoulder, "I've got to talk to you." - -"Shhh." Teddy waved him to silence. Bob was talking to Lucy Parker, and -he wanted to listen. - -"It's a modern orgy," he was saying. "It's the nearest approach to a -public orgy that we'll ever have in New Mexico." - -Lucy glanced around, with her lips pursed scornfully, and remarked that -for an orgy it was very dull indeed. "Look, there's hardly anyone here -to perform. Everyone is being either very dull or most circumspect." - -"Of course," said Bob triumphantly. "That's the modern note. All the -essence of the orgy is in the aftermath. We've lost the knack for public -vice. We've----" - -"Oh, for Pete's sake," whispered Blake, "come on. This is awfully -important." - -"What is it?" They strolled off. - -"I'm in a mess. I just found out--Oh, Lord." He had caught sight of -Maria coming towards him. "Come on outside. I'll never be able to tell -you in here. It's terrible." - -They stepped out of the door and were almost knocked over by Gin, who -was in a whirl of dishevelled shawl and escaping hair. She flung herself -upon them. - -"Thank goodness you're here," she cried. "Take me home. I'm in the most -awful mess." - -"Another?" asked Teddy. "Well, tell us all about it." - -They went to Blake's car and crowded into the front seat. - -Teddy nodded to Gin. "Well, tell yours first." - -"I couldn't possibly tell you," she said. "It's too involved. It's -indecent besides. Just get me out of here before Harvey finds me, -because he's in a state and if I see him again I'll pull his hair out." -She laughed in a shrill voice. "The old sheep," she said hysterically. -"He acts exactly like a sheep." - -"Well, then, wait a minute. Blake's really in trouble." - -"Oh." She calmed down immediately. "I'm sorry. Is it serious?" - -Blake sat tragically slumped, with his chin propped on his hands over -the steering-wheel. "I just heard that Mother's shipping me off on -Wednesday," he said. - -The others gasped in chorus. - -"Wednesday!" cried Gin. "You mean to school? California? But that's just -four days from now!" - -"Three days. Today is tomorrow. I mean it's three o'clock." - -In the silence the music in the Gymnasium sounded foolish and far away. -Someone scuffled and laughed in one of the nearby automobiles. "You -can't argue with your mother?" Gin asked. - -"No. She's in a state about something. I can't even talk to her -decently." - -Teddy said, "Wait till morning. Maybe she'll be all right then." - -"No, I don't dare risk it. It wouldn't do any good. I'll just have to go -unless I get away before she catches me." - -They must have understood him, for they remained silent. A little breeze -came from the mountains. - -Gin took a quick, noisy breath and cried, "Well, why shouldn't you? -Let's all go away now. This minute, while we have a chance." - -Teddy said nothing. They looked at him imploringly, waiting, but he did -not say anything. At last Gin took him by the shoulders and shook him. - -"You're not going to back out, are you?" she begged. "You want to go -away, don't you? You said you did. Come on. Blake, you tell him." - -Blake couldn't speak. "Oh, all right," said Gin petulantly. "Neither of -you mean it. Come on, Blake, let's get out and leave him here. He can -stay in this old town till he rots. I'm going to Mexico." - -Blake's mind seemed to burn up in a quick ecstatic thought of it. He -shuddered. - -Teddy spoke at last. "Of course I'm going. Don't be an ass. I'm just -thinking." He sat still, and then said, "First we'd better get coats. -Give me the checks. It's going to be cold." - -"Oh," Gin cried impatiently, "we don't need coats. Come on." - -"Wait a minute. Give me the check, you lunatic." She handed it to him; -he took Blake's and went to the door. When he came back with the -coats----"There," he said. "We don't have to be quite half cocked, do -we? Now about money. We'll need gas, Gin: try to snap out of it. I'm -broke. Is everyone?" - -"No," said Blake, "I've got fifteen dollars." - -"I cashed my salary today," said Gin. "I have twenty. That's enough, -isn't it?" - -"It's got to be. All right, let's go. Let's see where we can be by -morning." He wrapped his coat around him and sat back. - -Blake laughed loudly. "Ready?" he called. "Everybody ready?" - -"Let's go!" - -The engine raced for a minute. Blake backed the car, then started down -the road to Albuquerque. - - - - - CHAPTER SIXTEEN - - -Before they had come to the gap that cuts a sharp high line of hills and -marks the half-way point to Albuquerque, the sun came up. It was -gloriously melodramatic over the little crawling black car; it spouted -red and orange over the sky, and the fresh midsummer wind was cool and -ethereal. Gin held up her chin and closed her eyes for a second, -sniffing. Then she opened them hastily, for she was driving and it would -not do to go to sleep. Not that she felt sleepy; she was still tingling -and wide-awake. She peered into the mirror at Blake, asleep and -white-faced in the tonneau, and wondered at his indifference. But the -poor kid had been through a rotten night: only in the last half-hour he -had stopped jerking and looking back over his shoulder at the empty -black road behind them. It was awful to be a kid. Even the law wouldn't -help. - -Thinking of the law, she felt afraid again. It was time to ask Teddy the -question she had thought of hours before, but had put out of her mind. - -"Teddy," she said in a low voice. He woke from his doze, beside her, and -cocked an eyebrow. "Teddy, are we all right with Blake?" - -"Why not?" His voice was husky: a morning voice. - -"Couldn't we get into trouble driving off with the car like this?" - -"No. It's his car. His own car." - -"I don't mean robbery; I mean the Mann act, or kidnapping, or whatever -you call it. He's a minor, isn't he?" - -She watched him and grew more uneasy, for worry appeared on his face. - -"Gosh," he murmured. "I don't know anything about the law.... You think -they might send the police after us?" - -She shrugged helplessly. He pondered for a minute, then turned around -and tugged at Blake's foot. - -"Wake up, kid--you can sleep again in a minute. Listen; how worried do -you think your mother will be?" - -Blake sat up with a guilty jerk and rubbed his eyes. He was frightened -at first; then he remembered and smiled. Watching him through the -driving mirror, Gin knew that she would fight for him no matter what the -police did. She'd keep him out of school if he didn't want to go back. -She'd take care of him. - -"What did you say?" - -"We were wondering about your mother," said Teddy. "Will she send the -police after us? You're a runaway, you know." - -The air was growing lighter, changing to pink. Blake looked around him -at the passing juniper-bushes and said slowly, "She won't think I've -gone. Not till this afternoon. I said I wouldn't be coming home; she'll -think I went with you." - -"But when she finds out?" - -"I'll tell her myself. I'll telegraph something, and then I think she'll -be too proud to send after me. Don't you worry; I'm not worried. Isn't -this great? Isn't it? Let me drive awhile." - -"We're going to wash as soon as we reach the river," Gin said flatly, -"colds or no colds." - -The sun was high when they came to the bridge and they took turns -bathing, hidden more or less from the highway by a bush. Afterwards they -had coffee in Albuquerque and sent a telegram to Mary: "GONE TO MEXICO -HEALTHY WRITING DO NOT WORRY LOVE BLAKE." - -"There," said Blake, "that looks perfectly reasonable. Now she won't -worry." - -Teddy drove out of town, while Gin sat in the back and watched him, -wondering what he was thinking about it all. Was he enjoying it, or was -he beginning to be sorry? His face reflected in the mirror was impassive -and close-lipped. She stared at it until her eyes closed under the -brightening sun, and she slept. - -They stopped at last in a field and lay down in their coats on the -ground to sleep, surrounded by stumpy bits of yellow grass growing in -the dry soil. Gin dreamed that she was back at her desk in the office in -Indiana, typing. A long complicated dream it was, with a dreary wretched -atmosphere about it. It was even worse than the real thing had been. She -woke in a bad mood; the relief that flooded through her when she found -herself lying in a field with her shoulder dented by a rock couldn't -dispel the eerie horror of it. She looked at her watch: it was only -noon. Shifting quietly, she lifted the edge of her coat and put it over -her head to keep the sun from giving her more bad dreams. A burro was -grazing a few yards away. He raised his head as she raised hers, and -they looked at each other for some seconds with similar expressions of -sun-drenched drowsiness. He sighed and dropped his head to the grass -again. Vaguely comforted, she lay down and went to sleep. - -They got up at four, because they had seen signs advertising a rodeo at -Magdalena. This meant going forty miles out of the road to El Paso, but -as Blake pointed out, they had the rest of their lives ahead of them. -They drove into town at eight o'clock, when the whole place in the -ordinary course of events would be going to bed. Tonight, however, it -was different: the dusty streets were trampled with thousands of -hoof-marks and people swarmed along the side of the road. Cowboys in -blue jeans crowded the stores and leaned against the doors, picking -their teeth. Four or five cars were parked on the main street, and in -front of the post office a group of Indians sat on the ground, waiting -for excitement. - -Gin was too stirred to sit quietly. She stood up in the seat as they -drove slowly down the road, turning her head this way and that. "It's so -_thrilling_," she said. She looked at Teddy and impatiently shoved his -shoulder. "Isn't it thrilling?" she repeated. - -"Let's find something to eat," he answered. There was a slight argument -over this. Gin and Blake wanted to cook their own food, and Teddy was in -too much of a hurry. In defence of himself, he developed a plan. He -found out where the hotel was, and after making his companions promise -not to say anything, he bargained with the proprietor for jobs for the -lot of them. Gin, he protested, was a professional waitress and he and -Blake were expert dishwashers. The man consented to take them on for the -next two days, during the rush, at wages of ten dollars among the three -of them, and meals included. Teddy tried to get rooms too, but this was -no good. The proprietor compromised by selling them three blankets for -fifty cents apiece. Afterwards they ate bowls of chili con carne and -drank coffee and condensed milk, then drove out of town to make camp. - -Rolled up in her blanket, Gin was almost comfortable. It was romantic -and satisfactory under the chilly stars. Once, towards morning, she woke -with a jerk and noticed that the world seemed much too large and quiet. -She sighed and tried to edge nearer to Blake. The air smelled of sage -and horses: she wondered dreamily why she was there, and then she -remembered and was happy before she went to sleep again. - -Breakfast and lunch next day merged in the kitchen into one long period -of torture--aching arms and weary feet for Gin, and greasy, coolish -water for Teddy and Blake. She carried trays back and forth from the -dining-room and the flies followed everywhere. But the meals were good -enough and they would need the money. After lunch, when they had rested -and felt more cheerful, they brushed themselves off and went to see the -most important part of the rodeo, the bronco-busting. All three of them -had seen rodeos, the big famous ones that went even to New York and -London, but this one was different and more fun. The horses were really -wild, and lots of them were new to the game. The men were not -professional riders, but cow-hands who spent most of the year working on -ranches. - -Gin and Blake and Teddy had never seen anything like it. The riding was -thrilling. They stood on tiptoe to watch over the heads of the people -who were so unlike the sightseers at Vegas on the Fourth of July. Town -people, the Mexicans who lived in Magdalena and Datil and Socorro and -San Antonio, were mixed up with the ranchers' families who cheered their -own punchers or watched excitedly silent when they had bet on the length -of time some man would stay on the back of his horse, watched eagerly -while he was tossed and bounced and jerked by his bronco. - -There was a race of wild mules; the animals were saddled for the first -time in their lives and the riders had to run them in a straight course -for the goal. One of the mules got there: the other three rid themselves -of their riders and then dashed round and round, kicking up wildly and -almost splitting themselves in fright at the dangling stirrups and -straps. They were caught and set free in a corral. - -The air was dusty and hot. After two hours of it, Gin had had enough. -She retired to the car and sat down there, waiting until the boys should -want to go home. She sat with her back to the field and tried not to -think at all. The only way to get anywhere, she knew, was to be an -absolute imbecile, never reflecting on the past or the future. For -instance, if she should start to worry about the trouble she had caused -at the couriers' headquarters, or if she had any qualms about leaving -Flo and Harvey, she would weaken. Instead, she stretched out in the sun -and began to recite the multiplication table. - -The boys came back in a great hurry, having looked at the time and -remembered their duties at the hotel. For the next three hours Gin -forgot everything but her legs and arms: the dining-room was jammed. -There was to be a big party at the dance hall and the boys wanted to go. -When she tried to stay behind to rest, Blake begged her to come for only -an hour, and she gave in. It wasn't that she was so tired really, she -confessed. - -"I look like a mess," she said to herself. But she borrowed a knife from -the kitchen and trimmed the fringe of her shawl, and they all polished -each others' shoes as well as they could. They were an hour late for the -beginning of the dance. - -The orchestra was pretty bad, of course, and the floor was rough. Gin -danced once with each of the boys and then suggested that they mix with -the others. They ran off thankfully and left her alone, but it was not -long before a tall cow-hand requested the honor of the next number, and -after that she was so busy that she had no time to be tired. - -The music seemed to get better. She danced often with a stocky man who -had a scar on his chin and was a better dancer than he looked. He was -foreman at a ranch, in for the celebration, and every now and then he -disappeared and came back smelling of whisky. She would have liked a -drink, but civilization had not yet reached Magdalena and no one offered -her anything. - -Another man told her that he was home-steading. She said, "But aren't -all the good lands used up? I thought----" - -"Yes, ma'am. My land ain't so good. I'm thinking of starting a sort of -store when it's settled, and making out that way. The only thing is, a -fellow gets lonesome and there aren't enough girls. I've known boys to -ride eight miles both ways, just to call on a girl." He surveyed her -morosely. "If you was thinking of locating out here, you wouldn't have -much trouble getting yourself a husband. Take me, why, I've been looking -for a wife for a couple of years. Can you cook? I seen you stepping -pretty lively with the plates, up at the hotel." - -It was at that point that she called Teddy and reminded him that they -had not danced lately. She apologized afterwards, but he said it was -just as well she had done it while he was still winner at the crap-game. - -It was late and cold when they went back to camp, but they were in good -spirits and hummed all the way. After Gin had cuddled down in her -blanket she could not go to sleep. She listened to the blood pounding -through her lips, and thought of Teddy and Blake so near her, and -wondered if anyone had ever been happier. - - - - - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - - -It was six o'clock in the evening. Blake stopped with his arms full of -all the wood he had picked up, rabbit-brush roots and twigs and a few -bigger branches hacked unscientifically from half-dead trees. He wanted -to stay out here a minute, on the other side of the hill from the fire. -Gin was busy cutting up onions, probably, and if he got back there -before Teddy did she would make him help. Anyway, there was no hurry for -the wood: the car was full of bits that they had picked up all day. -There was wood and a water can and a saucepan and there were two loaves -of bread and an assortment of knives and forks from the Magdalena hotel. -In a few minutes it would be his job to pull it all out, but not yet. - -He could see smoke from the fire hovering in the air. Probably she was -mixing the stew now. He thought pleasurably of that stew, potatoes and -onions and corned beef, most likely. Still, he would stand here until -they called him. He loved them both, but it was good to be alone. How -alone he was, even with that smoke so near him! He sighed with content -and looked in the opposite direction, at the place where the sun had -just sunk out of sight. The land was perfectly flat. A few bushes and -cholla plants stood out like giants on the plain. It was hours' since -they had passed a fence; just land and land and land, with here and -there a side road. - -Two days now until they reached Mexico; two days at the most. He could -hardly believe it. He looked up at the sky and wondered what would -happen to them. Where would they be in ten years? Still in Mexico, still -together? He hoped so. The rule of the expedition was that no one should -think of anything but the present. Teddy had made it; he had said, -"Let's not remember anything or plan for anything. Let's just go along." -Now Blake broke the rule; he wondered how they were acting at that -moment in Santa Fe, without him. Mary would be dining with Bob, perhaps, -and talking about him. Probably she was being very offhand and modern. -He could hear her saying, "He'll be back before the week is out. I know -Blake. He'll do his sulking and then come back perfectly cheerful." Oh, -he said defiantly to himself, will I? - -It occurred to him then that he had really heard her saying it. Had some -part of him been back there, waiting in the air and listening to Mary? -When he said "Will I?" perhaps she had jumped a little, thinking of him -saying it just at the time that he did. He followed the idea. Perhaps -even though he was standing here on the desert, there was a part or -shell of him in that room where he had been, telegraphing. - -He felt very clear about it, and willing to go on with the speculation. -His mind worked better these days. Every mile he went away from school -seemed to help. He was almost ready to form a theory that one learned -better if one was happy; perhaps in Mexico he might even become -interested in algebra. - -"Yoo-hoo!" Gin was calling him. "Stew-hoo!" He picked up one last twig -and went back to the fire, smiling. Teddy was measuring out -coffee-grounds to put in the boiling water, and Gin told Blake to cut -the bread. They started to eat as fast as they could, though the food -was still almost too hot. - -All of them were wind-burned and peeling, with dry lips from the dust -and the sun. They looked bigger, somehow, than they had been when they -started out. And yet it had been only four--no, five days, Blake said -aloud, since they rode out of Albuquerque. No one answered him, and for -a while there was no noise but tin spoons on tin plates. - -"Ho-ho," said Teddy, sighing, and stretching out his legs. "I ate too -much." They settled back comfortably, their heads pillowed on rolled -blankets. It was getting dark enough to show up a few pale stars. - -Gin said, "You're all wrong about not mentioning Santa Fe. It's the best -part of being out here, thinking about town and how nice it is that -we're not back there. I keep wondering how Flo is getting along with the -dudes, and then I look around and feel great." - -"That's the way it is with me," said Blake. "I want to think about it -all the time. The old plaza and all that. How do you think it turned out -with Phil and the Pearsons?" - -"Oh, I bet nothing happened at all. Nothing ever happens there. You -always think it will, but it doesn't. Something else will turn up pretty -soon that they'll be talking about instead of Phil." - -"They're talking about _us_ now," said Teddy, in a tone of deep -satisfaction. - -There was silence again. Then Blake hit the ground with his fist. "I -feel so _great_," he said. - -"We all do," said Teddy quietly. To Blake, still in that queer state -where everything was crystal clear, it came suddenly that he would never -forget any of this moment; the orange-glowing fire or the two -pastel-shadowed figures sitting beside it. Teddy's profile, with -turned-up nose and ruffled hair, was lowered to the branch he held in -his hand, poking the ashes at his feet. He would always remember that, -and the smell of burning cedar. - -Gin sighed. "If it starts raining again tonight I'll go to sleep sitting -right up in the car. I felt lousy last night." - -"Oh, it won't rain tonight," Blake promised easily. "The sky is clear." -It was his trip and he felt responsible for nature. The fire burned down -to a useful small smouldering size while the night crept up around them. - -"It's queer how easy it is not to worry out here," Gin said. "I used to -worry all the time about everything, and now nothing seems to be very -important." - -"I know," said Teddy. - -"You? You never bothered your head about anything," she said -resentfully. "Money or anything. I used to be so jealous that I could -have choked you sometimes." - -"What do you know about it? I did too worry. I didn't say anything about -it, that's all." - -Blake listened carefully to this strange talk, and now he felt impelled -to break in. - -"I don't understand either of you. Why should you have worried about -anything? You're grown up. If I ever get to be twenty-one, there won't -be another thing in my life that I can't manage. Just to think that no -one will be able to tell me what to do, after that! You don't know when -you're well off." - -"Oh, yeah?" Gin pushed a charred log farther into the fire. "Well, wait -until you get there and you'll see how easy it is." - -"People waste too much time. Always talking about little things that -don't make any difference anyway, and fussing around with people they -don't like very much. They ought to stop doing what they don't want to -do, if it doesn't make any difference to anyone. They ought to go and do -what they really want." - -"What do _you_ want to do?" asked Gin. "What things really do matter? -You act as if there were something else to _do_." - -"I don't know. It depends on who you are. Teddy really wants to paint; -it really matters to him. What do you really want to do?" - -"I don't know. I want to have a good time in Mexico, that's all, and it -looks as if I'll get it." She patted Blake's hand and smiled at him. - -"Well, if you're satisfied now it's just because there isn't anyone else -around to give you ideas," said Teddy suddenly. "We're in an artificial -state just now, the way people always are when they travel. When we get -some place in Mexico and start getting acquainted with people, things -will be complicated again for all of us." - -"I can't understand you," Blake repeated sincerely. "I used to think -that everyone knew all about things, everyone but me. I always felt like -saying to older people, 'Here, what about life? What is it like?' I -honestly thought they'd be able to tell me. Now I'm getting there -myself, and I know that I have as much sense as anybody, but it isn't -much." - -He put his hands behind his head and looked at the sky and was happy, in -spite of the ignorance of humanity. - -"We ought really to have some ready-made answer to questions about life -and all that," said Teddy. "We all fool around and fool around trying to -figure out an answer, and at the end we just take what we have." - -"We take what we have and then we quit," Gin said gloomily. - -"Whatever we have. It isn't any better than what other people have, -that's the tragedy of it. It's no nearer the real truth." - -"What truth?" asked Blake. "Is there one?" - -"Oh, yes." Gin sounded shocked. "There's got to be truth. Why, here we -are, all alive. What's it all about, if there's not some truth?" - -"It's just an accident that we're here. Look at us and then look at all -this space. Why should we have been picked out, especially?" - -"I don't say that we are, especially. I don't mean just us, just the -three of us or even the whole race. I mean the world and the universe -and so forth. Why does it keep on going?" - -"It doesn't have to have a personal manager," Blake insisted. "It all -runs by system. Science." - -"Sure. All right. But what's the system? Truth, of course." - -"Call it God while you're at it," drawled Teddy, who was almost asleep. -"That's what you're working around to, anyway. 'Some call it -Evolution'...." - -"I don't mean Evolution," said Gin scornfully. "Now you've got me all -mixed up. I'm talking about the truth, that's all. Things _are_ true. If -I didn't think so, I'd commit suicide. I wouldn't even take the trouble -to commit suicide, I'd just stop living." - -"Well then, by all means go on believing in truth," said Teddy placidly. - -"It isn't believing," she insisted. "It _is_ so." - -"I never feel like committing suicide," said Blake thoughtfully. "It -might hurt." - -"Well, that proves it," Gin said triumphantly. "You have a standard." - -"No, I haven't. That doesn't follow." He stood up and stretched, - -Teddy said, "Of course you have. You believe in painting, don't you? -Some of it is better than the rest, isn't it? Well then, you have -standards." - -"Oh, no. Those are personal preferences. What I am, not what I think. My -likes and dislikes aren't my thoughts." - -"How can you decide which is you, and which is what you think?" - -Blake was silent. It was too much like that old thing that used to -puzzle him so at breakfast; the picture of the girl on the box of -cornflakes. She held another box of cornflakes on her lap, with a -picture on it of a girl holding a box of cornflakes, with a picture of a -girl.... Once upon a time he had studied that picture until he was -nearly crazy, trying to imagine what happened after the boxes had become -so small that he couldn't see them. He grunted and rolled over with his -nose burrowed into the blanket. - -"That's why we bother our heads about little things," said Gin. "When we -try to figure out big ones, we go crazy." - -"Some people do," Teddy said. "They stop thinking about everything but -that one question, What is Truth? Scientists...." - -"I know," she said impatiently. "Arrowsmith stuff. What difference does -it all make?" She unrolled her blanket and started to take off her -shoes. - -"We're like a legend," Blake said after a moment. "Three brave people -going out into the world. It makes me feel brave to sleep next to a -fire. I don't know why." - -"It is like that," Gin said eagerly. "Like the Three Musketeers, but -there were four Musketeers really, weren't there? I always forget. -Perhaps we'll pick up a fourth somewhere." - -"I hope not," said Teddy. "Four would be too many and we'd have -trouble." - -"I don't see why." - -"If we pick up another man, he'll start making love to you; and if we -pick up another girl one of us will start making love to her." - -"I don't think so." Blake sat up. "We don't make love now, so why should -anyone else start us off? We're different." - -"Oh, you think so?" Teddy laughed in a nasty patronizing manner that -disturbed Blake. "Wait a while. We know each other too well, this crowd. -Take it from me, someone else will spoil it." - -Blake was uneasy. He hated to carry the conversation farther, but he was -too worried to let it drop. "Why should we change?" he persisted. "We -get along." - -"How do you know? How do you know Gin gets along, for instance? Or that -I do?" - -Gin interrupted, saying, "Oh, shut up, Teddy. Never mind," she added to -Blake, "he's talking through his hat. Go to sleep." - -Wonderingly, Blake looked from one to the other of his companions. They -were glaring at each other. - -"Leave him alone," said Gin. - -"Why should I? What are you trying to do; mother him? This is no -nursery." Teddy lay down with his back to the others. - -"Well then, try to act your age," she retorted, but there was no answer. - -In the next few minutes the quiet of the prairie was disturbed by -Teddy's soft snores. The atmosphere had cleared and everything was -peaceful. Blake sighed and flopped over in his cocoon. - -"Gin," he whispered experimentally. - -She lifted her head. "I can't sleep." They peered at Teddy, and she -added, "I think I'll take a walk. It's awfully early. Do you want to -come along?" - -Softly he untangled his feet and put his shoes on again; she did the -same. They tiptoed away to the road and set out at a good stride. The -starlight was blue. - -"I kept thinking of poetry," he explained, "and I couldn't get to sleep. -It kept going round and round in my head." - -"What poetry?" - -"Just little pieces that I've read. I thought this one over and over: - - "While waves far off in a pale rose twilight - Crash on a white sand shore. - -"I don't think it's right, but that's the way I remember it." - -"There's just one poem I remember," she said. "You know---- - - "From too much love of living, - From hope and fear set free.... - -"Do you like that one too?" he asked. Incredible! They stared at each -other. - -The light of a ranch house was ahead of them, and they paused. - -"Let's go back," she said. He nodded and they turned. - -"Listen, Gin," he said thoughtfully, "I know what Madden meant when you -got sore at him. You don't have to worry about me. I know what he -meant." - -"Of course you do." - -"Only I don't like to talk about it, that's all. I just don't like it -and I won't talk about it. You see? I don't want you to think...." - -"Of course I see. Never mind." - -"I don't want you or Madden to think I'm dumb, or...." - -"I don't think you're dumb at all." - -They turned up the field again towards the fire. - -"Gin," he asked, "do you think that any other three people ever had a -better time?" - -"That's what I was wondering. I don't see how they could, the way most -of them live." - -He sighed. "I wonder if we'll go on feeling like this. Sometimes I'm -afraid." - -"Afraid of what? Of course lots of things could happen. We might have an -accident, or perhaps...." - -"That isn't what I mean. I'm not sure what I do mean. But--well, if one -of us should die it would be terrible, but that isn't the most dangerous -thing." - -"What is it, then?" She was whispering now, standing near the fire. -Teddy was still snoring. - -"People change so. You might change, Gin. Even I...." - -She shook her head and he thought that she looked very sad. "I'm grown -up," she said. "I'm more grown up than you are, and I know about myself. -You're the one who will change, or Teddy. I don't want to go back; I -don't want to do anything but this." - -He believed her, and felt lighter. "Don't worry about me. I don't want -anything else either. Look at the star up there, over that tree. It's -green, isn't it?" - -Teddy tossed a little, and mumbled. - -"We'd better be quiet," whispered Gin. "Go on back to sleep." - - - - - CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - - -Teddy woke up very early in the morning. The sun had come up and had -lost its colour: it hung above the flat line of earth like a colourless -lantern, a lamp made of gold but with no light in it. He did not know -what had waked him, but there was a chattering birdlike noise from a -hummock nearby. Prairie dogs, and they had been making a terrific row, -probably. One of them put his nose out of the hole as Teddy lay on his -side with wide-open eyes, watching. He crept out slowly, his plump -little body elongated with caution. He drew up his back legs one after -the other very gently, and sat down on the top with his paws dangling -before him. His head turned slowly and he looked at the world with -squirrel-like eyes that saw no importance in anything, even in the three -prone giants around the smoking pile of ashes. Then he suddenly started -to run close to the ground, looking for something to eat. Teddy sat up, -and he squeaked and rushed down his hole again; his tail gave a last -little twitch as it disappeared. - -Gin's head was covered with her blanket against mosquitos and dew; there -was nothing visible of Gin but a wisp of hair. Blake's face was turned -to the sun, and his mouth was open. They both slept deeply. It must be -very early indeed. - -Teddy yawned, rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He propped his elbows -on his knees, and his chin on his fists, waiting for something to -happen. The day was gathering colour again, as if light from the sun -were slowly filling the air, mixing imperceptibly, sinking down from the -layer of sunshine above the clouds in little driblets, like a mixture of -drinks. The ground had dropped away from under the sun. Beyond the long -shallow swell of ground in front of him there came a ghost of a yell. -Teddy leaned back among the folds of the blanket, and watched until he -saw far off the silhouette of a man on horseback driving before him a -flock of sheep, almost invisible in the irregular ground. - -He moved nervously and looked again at Gin and Blake. He was depressed, -full of a foreboding and a loneliness. Every morning when he woke he was -uneasy until he had spoken to the others, and he was never completely at -his ease until they had stopped at a store or a gasoline station and -chatted with the attendant. It was like a feeling of guilt, the -conviction that came to him every morning that he had no right out here -under the sky. He was trespassing. Surely some day he would be waked by -a policeman, and ordered out of the desert. There must be a law about -sleeping out like this. One night he had been so uneasy that he had -waited until the others were asleep and then crept back to the curtained -car to sleep under some sort of cover, at least. It was all right unless -he woke up at night: if he slept straight through and found himself -still there in the morning, with no enemy standing beside him, he felt -triumphant and safe for the day. Just now he was nervous. That man with -the sheep--would he see them and come over to order them off? It was -ridiculous, of course. The land didn't belong to the shepherd any more -than to himself, or Gin. - -He looked at the sky. There were no clouds, and it would be a hot day. -Where were they going? Would they be in El Paso today? He twisted around -and looked at the tires of the car--no flats. The corner of the -packing-box where they kept the groceries was sticking up above the -door. He put on his shoes and stood up quietly. - -When Gin and Blake woke they found him tearing a branch into bits, -feeding the small beginnings of a fire. - -"What's the idea?" Gin asked crossly. "It's too early to get up." - -"I was cold," he answered calmly, and put one foot on the branch while -he jerked at it. - -"Cold! It's so hot that we'll be getting sunstroke." - -"Well then, get up. The coffee will be ready soon." - -They protested, but they helped him with the breakfast. It was growing -really hot and they were glad to get into the shade of the car. Blake -poured some of the water into the radiator and watched anxiously as it -disappeared. - -"We're using a lot of water," he said. "I hope we don't run out." - -"Not yet," said Teddy. "There'll be a couple of stations before we get -to town. Climb in." - -The morning was dull and dusty. They passed one or two ranch-houses and -rode through miles of flat lime country, and Teddy's depression grew -stronger. He felt as if he had forgotten something. What was it? But of -course he had forgotten something; he had forgotten everything. -Everything in the world was back in Santa Fe or Minnesota. Did it -matter? He was starting out afresh, without anything in the world but -himself. They were all doing it. It was a rebirth. He looked around at -the desolate country and wondered what the Garden of Eden had looked -like. Blake and Gin were silent and impassive, strangers. He was so -miserable that he was afraid he would start to cry, and their firm young -faces were cruelly indifferent. - -He knew what he wanted. He missed breakfast in Santa Fe, in the Eagle -Cafe. He wanted to go in and sit on a stool before the counter, the -greasy crumb-strewed coffee-splashed table that stretched the length of -the restaurant. He wanted another breakfast with the _Capital Times_ to -read; a stale roll and coffee with milk in it, and people to talk to. -People! And afterwards to stroll down De Vargas Avenue to the -barber-shop, or to sit in the taxi-stand and have a smoke with Harvey, -waiting for trade. He wanted to talk to someone, Harvey or the barber or -the Mexican who lived next door and kept a goat in the back yard. - -And the others--Bob, or Lucy, or even Phyllis Parker. Who was new in -town, he wondered? Who was being taken for the Circle Drive, or eating -lunch in the Plaza? - -The car stopped in front of a little frame shack with a green door and a -red gas pump. A Mexican came out when Blake honked the horn, and filled -the tank sullenly. Blake tried to find out something about the road -ahead. How far was El Paso? Would there be a place where they could have -lunch? Did the Mexican have an extra carrier for gasoline? The man -grunted in reply. He had no gas tank. El Paso wasn't beyond three hours' -drive. A place for lunch three miles farther on. Road pretty good. He -shuffled back into the house and slammed the door. - -There was a poster on the wall that looked new enough to be -contemporary. Curiously, Blake sauntered over to examine it and to read -it aloud: - -"Prize Fight," he said. "Between Jose Baca and the Montero Kid. Tonight. -Seats twenty-five cents. Reserved fifty. At the Palace Theatre...." - -"Where is it?" Gin asked eagerly. "I'd like to see one. Or is it over?" - -"It was last night, I guess. September sixth--what is today? Is it the -seventh?" - -"It doesn't matter," Gin said. "Come seven, come eleven.... Isn't it my -turn to drive?" - -They rearranged themselves and settled down. Teddy was in a daze. There -was something he had forgotten; he had certainly forgotten something. -Gin had reminded him of it. What was it? - -The morning passed slowly and the sun grew hotter. Blake was excited, -more and more so as they drew near the border. - -"What do you think the border looks like?" he asked cheerfully. "I -expect a sort of chicken-wire fence with flags on each side." - -"I think it'll be a row of milestone things," Gin said. "We can tell -better when we hear them talk. Blake, you wink at me when you hear -someone say 'Carramba!' and we'll know that we've arrived." - -They screamed with laughter. Teddy stared at the road and frowned. Come -seven, come eleven. What was it? Something was wrong: he had forgotten -something. - -"I'm off to my love with a boxing glove," sang Blake. "Whoops!" - -His voice irritated Teddy. It was too shrill, too young, too joyous. And -Gin too: Gin was a sentimental fool. Why need they talk? Couldn't they -ever be quiet? What was that thing he had forgotten? It was important, -too; very important. What was it, and what had it to do with a -prize-fight? He shook his head violently, trying to jog it. - -They had lunch in a little fly-swarmed town. He worked his way through -two pieces of leathery pie, trying to eat himself back to good humour. -They teased him about his appetite and his irritation almost broke -through. On the way to the car Blake swung himself over the door and it -was all Teddy could do to keep from striking him in the face. - -He was tired of the car and the kids; he didn't want to sleep out of -doors any more; he was worried about what they would do in Mexico. And -there was something he had forgotten. - -He was driving. All of a sudden it happened. For the first time in his -life, something came over him that was so powerful, so cleanly sweeping, -that he was utterly without strength before it: he was wax. - -He remembered. - -September seventh, September eleventh. Mrs. Saville-Sanders. The bridge -party. It was September seventh today, and on the eleventh Mrs. -Saville-Sanders was having a bridge party, and she had asked him to come -and help. - -He squeezed his eyes together and looked at Blake, sitting next to him, -and then he turned around wonderingly and peered at Gin in the back -seat. All three of them were dusty tramps, sitting in a dusty car a few -miles from El Paso, miles from Santa Fe. How perfectly appalling. How -had it happened? It was a bad dream and he couldn't wake up. Seven from -eleven left four--four days to get back. Four days to climb out of this -pit. - -Blake was kneeling and looking back at the road. They had passed a sign. -"Gin!" he cried, and his voice cracked with rapture. "Only eight miles!" - -Teddy slowed down, stopped, backed the car up and started the other way. -Back to Santa Fe and Mrs. Saville-Sanders. Out of the haze, the receding -mist, he heard a tiny babble of voices pleading with him, but they meant -nothing. He did not listen. - -"What's the matter? Where are you going? What is it?" - -Then Blake understood, and there was an anguished shriek. "Madden!" - -An incredulous, outraged cry. - -He stepped on the accelerator and his blood flowed faster as he felt the -road slipping by. Mexico was safely behind him. He was waking up. Who -were these people? He stepped on the gas. - -They fell quiet behind him. Blake had crawled over the seat and was -sitting with Gin, whispering with her. Teddy glanced at them in the -mirror, sitting with their heads together, and closed his mouth grimly, -clenching his teeth. - -It would be four days. Four days to drive with two sulking children, and -then he would be back in Santa Fe, safe. If he drove steadily it would -be shorter, maybe: three days if he had any luck. Three days if he -averaged twenty-five miles an hour. Only three days. - - - - - CHAPTER NINETEEN - - -On the back seat Blake crouched next to Gin and tried to think. He -looked out at the road, the same old road repeating itself, and tried to -know what to do. The wind blowing by his ears frightened him. He was -terrified of the stranger in the front seat. Things were happening too -fast; he could scarcely catch his breath. - -Couldn't he get Gin to help? - -He looked at her hopefully. He knew now that they must leave Teddy: the -madman in the front seat must be overpowered and left behind. He was a -traitor. The best of the adventure would be gone, with only two of them -left. It was hard, but it was not fatal. They could do it. He looked at -her, waiting for help.... - -Her eyes were fixed despairingly on Teddy's back, and she looked more -miserable than Blake himself, and as hopeless. He stared at her, and he -knew that he was alone. Something had taken the strength out of her. - -He was alone. - -He shrank back into his corner, bouncing as the car bounced. Something -was happening to his face. - -With a last spurt of defiance he flung up his arm to shield himself. - - THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Beginners Luck, by Emily Hahn - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEGINNERS LUCK *** - -***** This file should be named 43542.txt or 43542.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/5/4/43542/ - -Produced by Roger Frank - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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