Jessica, the Heiress Part 20

"Hurrah! If that's my warble I never heard it before! It's a marvelous atmosphere that makes a rag time tune sound like a nightingale's music. If 'Forty-niner' would join it----h.e.l.lo! what's up? What in--the name--of--all things!"

CHAPTER XV.

NINIAN'S GREETING

Suddenly, out of the moonlit distance before them, appeared a strange vision. A horse and his rider, as spotlessly white and gleaming as the snow on the distant mountaintops, moving toward them as swift as the wind and in supernatural silence. The eyes of the steed and its master glowed with a wicked light that startled both the old frontiersman and the modern scribe, and set Prince and Nimrod into paroxysms of terror.

Rearing, plunging and backing, Ninian's mount had him soon on the ground; and though Ephraim stuck to his saddle like a burr; he could not hold his horse and get at his revolver in that one instant of the appearance and disappearance of this strange "specter." It was coming--it was upon them--it was gone; and the blast of cold air with which it pa.s.sed them set the horses shivering in an ague of fear, and tied the men's tongues.

It seemed an age that they halted there in the open solitude, silently stroking and soothing their frightened beasts, before either could speak. Then "Forty-niner" found his voice and burst forth, absurdly:

"Drat--that--pocket!"

Ninian laughed; nervously, almost hysterically at first; then with honest merriment, exclaiming:

"Oh, what a chance was lost there, comrade!"

"Whoa, boy, whoa, I tell you! There, there, steady now. Well, you needn't throw it in my teeth if it was!" retorted the sharpshooter, furiously. "Hang new pants!"

Ninian rolled on the ground and laughed afresh; then feebly observed: "That's what I generally do with mine. But pockets! What of them?"

"Huh! it's all very well for you to lie there and snicker. I lost the chance of my life that time. What's the use of a repertation for hittin' a pin at the distance I have if you can't hit a fool when he's close alongside?"

"Referring to me?" asked the reporter, sweetly.

"Yes, if the coat fits. Drat that pocket!"

"Poor pocket! Who made it?"

"That pesky Sally Benton. The one was in burst right through, and she sewed this one so tight at the top----Huh! I believe she done it a-purpose."

"To be sure she did. If I remember correctly that estimable woman was opposed to bloodshed and preferred corporal punishment. I suppose she feared you might do what you attempted to do and----"

"Shut up your shallow talk, young man!" ordered Ephraim, with so much venom that the other realized his mirth was ill-timed and grew serious.

"What was the thing, anyway, Marsh?"

"That's more than I know, but just what I would have known if I'd hit it with a bullet. That's the 'spook' Aleck warned us of. It's been kitin' round the country ever since that first night after Pedro died.

Some say it's the ghost. It 'pears to be wrapped in a white blanket and wears it same as he did. He had a white horse once that had outlived all the horses ever was, I reckon; and the Simple Simons all about us claim that it's the Indian's spirit on the Indian's horse, a-ridin' round 'count of some trouble why he can't rest. There was a letter thrown into our settin' room night before last, in poor printing enough, too; and it said that Pedro had been banished from the happy hunting grounds on account of a secret he'd told; and a warning everybody not to touch to try and find the place the secret told about. It scared the mistress pretty bad, though she didn't let on much. The captain laughed, of course. She always laughs at everything; and Mrs. Benton--well, she just pinned the paper in her bosom, and says she: 'I'll know where that is when it's needed.' She's some sense, Sally has, though nothing to boast of, and she's a mighty good sewer of patchwork, though she's no good at pistol pockets. Well, shall we go on?"

Ninian had remounted his horse, which still was restless and ill to manage, and Prince was capering about in a fantastic fashion that, however, was not greatly different from his behavior earlier in the evening; and the reporter had satisfied himself that there was nothing now to be seen of the apparition which had flashed upon them and disappeared on the road back to Marion.

"Yes, let's go on. And I hope the least that will happen will be the arrival of that 'spook' at Aleck McLeod's cheerful inn. I'd give much to see his face if it did appear."

"Oh! it's been there already; last night. The kitchen window was raised so softly none but Janet could have heard it, and before she could get to it, a white, skinny hand came through and s.n.a.t.c.hed up a quail pie she'd baked for breakfast and off sooner'n she could catch it. She was so mad about the pie that, for a minute, she forgot to be scared; then it came over her that she'd been cookin' ghost's victuals, and she shivered all the rest the night. She wouldn't ever let Aleck far out of sight, she's so fond of him, but now he can't stir three foot away. Every man I met has something fresh to tell of how his women folks have been worried by the thing; and if somebody doesn't settle his spookship mighty sudden, we'll have all the females in hysterics; and something we've never needed in this valley yet, and that's a doctor. There won't be a nerve left anywhere."

Ninian laughed again; adding, a moment later: "Not just the sort of place to send a nervous-prostration patient, is it, after all? But what's your own speculation concerning the nuisance?"

"Let me tell you the whole business, so far forth as I've heerd it since I came home. Then you can form your own mind on it and see how best to help my folks out their troubles; 'cause I ain't trying to hide that was my reason for wanting you to come. You'd helped us so much with the t.i.tle affair I knew you'd unravel this skein. But I'm powerful glad to see you, all the same, and I do hope you'll get as much good for yourself out the visit as I want the mistress to get."

The horses were now somewhat quieted by a long stretch of the level road, over which they had been allowed to travel at their own pace, and talking was easier. Ephraim gave in detail the story of Pedro's visit and gift of the wand; of the many strange incidents of the last few days; of Ned's serious illness, caused by fright, Aunt Sally declared, but, as his mother thought, by too much rich food and an overdose of candy; and how, though he had repeatedly been heard about the premises, n.o.body had as yet actually seen Antonio Bernal. However, at present, little was thought of but the suffering children; for Luis had remained true to his character of "echo" and had himself, that very day, been put to bed with the same high fever which was tormenting Ned.

"You see, though it's getting Christmas time and everything ought to be lovely, we're about as badly off as a family can be. All the same, if anybody in this world can cheer the mistress it'll be yourself, Mr.

Sharp, and I'm powerful glad you've come."

For the rest of the ride they were mostly silent; each man revolving in his mind the most plausible explanation of Antonio's behavior, in his would-be mysterious hiding, and his terrorizing of the little lads.

Finally, Ninian expressed his own opinion:

"It's perfectly natural he should drift back to Sobrante, even with all the opprobrium that would attach to him there. It is his home. He believed or pretended to believe, that it was also his birthright. He knows nothing that would bring him a livelihood in the city----"

"Except gambling," interrupted Ephraim, contemptuously.

"If he tried his hand at that even, he'd fail. He hasn't the head to plot deeply. His maneuvers are all childishly transparent, and this last one--h'm! Have you connected his 'highness' with this spook business?"

"No, sir; and you needn't. That Antonio Bernal is the biggest coward above ground. Why, bless me! even if he'd had gumption enough to concoct such a scheme he wouldn't have the nerve to carry it out.

He'd be afraid of himself! Fact! No, siree. Top-lofty never had a hand in this," answered the elder man.

Ninian said no more but kept his suspicions revolving in his own mind; yet was far more absorbed in the possibility that "Forty-niner" had suggested, of the copper vein in the canyon, than by anything else he had heard. They had ridden on again, each silent, till the lights of Sobrante came into view; then Ephraim remarked:

"Reckon the little tackers ain't much better. The mistress don't gen'ally keep lamps lit as late as this, 'less something's wrong. Oh!

I hope there's no more death and disappointment on our road. 'Twould break Mrs. Trent's heart, indeed, if she lost Ned."

Ninian roused himself from his reverie, and answered, lightly:

"For such a cheerful fellow as I remember you, even when you were first laid up in hospital, you're degenerated sadly. What in the name of common sense is the use of prognosticating evil, when good is just as likely to come?"

"Huh! I'm consid'able older than you, young man," retorted the sharpshooter, perversely.

"All the more reason you should be more hopeful. What's happened to you besides these external troubles? Something on your own account, eh? If so, believe me you have my hearty sympathy and my right hand to help you, if you need it."

Ephraim checked Prince so shortly that the animal reared on his haunches, and pushing his hat from his brow regarded the visitor with a sad but grateful countenance. Then he spoke, and his tones were husky with subdued emotion:

"Thanks, friend. I took to you the first time my old eyes lit on you and I've leaned on you, in my mind, ever since. There is something 'at worries me, but it's so slight I shan't put it into words--yet. I've got work to do still for them I love and that love me. Which I might maybe sum up in one small person--my precious Lady Jess. G.o.d bless her! Ay, G.o.d bless her! From the crown of her sunny head to the tips of her dainty feet, she's the truest, squarest, tenderest creature the Lord ever sent to lighten this dark world. They all love her, every one of them rough, hard-handed sons of toil whom she calls her 'boys'; but there isn't one, not one, can begin to love her as I do. Not one.

It is she that makes me still keep a little faith----There, there!

what an old fool I am! But, thanks, all the same, and don't you forget I'm your own to command if need comes. Shake, neighbor, and may your age be----Giddap there, Prince! Let'son, lad; let's get on."

Ninian did get on, but again silently pondering that here again was something mysterious in this honest octogenarian's mood. There was an undercurrent of sorrow which, he was sure, was wholly distinct from the anxieties of his mistress and her household, and he wondered what it might be. Surely, for an old man, though wifeless and childless he had much to make him happy. The devotion of the family in which he had lived for so long, his comfortable home, his freedom from care concerning his future--to the young man struggling amidst a crowd of compet.i.tors to make a place for himself in the world, it seemed as if the venerable sharpshooter had cause for nothing but rejoicing.

However, these might be mere imaginations, and best banished for the present.

Ephraim made straight for the house, and the sound of the horses'

footfalls brought figures flying to the open doors; most welcome of these in the eyes of the two men, the small one of Jessica herself, her head stretched forth as she peered into the night, and the lamplight behind her making a radiance about her golden head and slender gracefulness. But she poised there on the threshold only for an instant, till she was sure what animals these were, then darted toward them with uplifted hands and a cry of delight:

"They've come! Oh, mother, they've come!--they've come!"