The Dual Alliance Part 10

He laughed, came to the rescue with a flask, and led her to the place where Bill had spread her blankets.

"Good-night, Undine Goldfish," said Paul, and left her.

Presently, wrapped in her steamer rugs, she slid into sleep, like a mermaid into the sea. About three o'clock Paul turned over to throw a log on the fire, when a small figure, dragging blankets, came into view.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, the night is so big and there's so much sky, it scares me."

"Is the night sapping you up?"

"Yes. I want to lie near the fire and you."

"Poor kid, she wants the lights o' home. Lie here where it's warm."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "He tended the fire that was between them"]

So until morning she lay on one side, and Paul on the other, while he tended the fire that was between them.

PART III

All days are alike in the mountains, all days are marvellously different. It seems sometimes as if a giant hand must push the great hills into new positions and relationships. Then the sky artist makes such daring experiments in shape and colour, as no Cubist ever dreamed of. People say they tire of the mountains and prefer the sea, because it is ever changing, but no man with the seeing eye ever makes that mistake. The sea soothes or irritates, but the mountains rouse the spiritual sources of your being--they are vision makers; they stretch you to your fullest measure, if you go to them with yearning.

The second day of their first expedition they jogged back to the ranch after an early supper on the heights. Barbara went on to the main house to see if hot water could be gotten for a bath, and came back chuckling.

"The bath-tubs are in the laundry house. You get a ticket. I'm thirteen.

I hope this isn't a popular hour."

When she set forth laden with towels and soap Paul laughed.

"The luxury-loving idol of Broadway makes for the distant laundry!"

"I'd walk a mile for hot water to take this soreness out of my bones.

You'd better get yourself a ticket."

"Thanks, I'll go into the river."

An hour later, in a soft frilly neglige, she joined him on the tiny veranda, where he sat smoking. He rose and bowed formally.

"How did you leave New York, Madam? I'd no idea we had guests."

"I'm only stopping over night," she retorted. "Are you alone in this wilderness?"

"No, I have a boy with me named Bob--a most engaging companion. He is away this evening.... How were the laundry tubs?"

She chuckled.

"I had to do battle for mine. A man was just going into my bathroom when I appeared. I claimed it, I presented my check as proof; he said I had forfeited my chance by being late."

"Western gallantry!"

"He was from New England, on the contrary!"

"What did you do?"

"I bowed low and quoted Sir Philip Sydney: 'Sir,' said I, 'thy need is greater than mine.'"

"Wasted, I'll warrant," laughed Trent. "Then what?"

"There was another vacant tub, so I took that and we splashed in unison, in adjoining booths. The water was hot and I feel too good to be true.

How was the river?"

"Icy."

"Isn't it wonderful to feel all of yourself like this?"

"All of yourself?"

"Yes, most of the time you only feel the part of yourself that hurts.

Now I feel my blood jumping in my veins, my heart pumping, my lungs expanding. I have eyes and ears in my skin. I'm using all of me."

"You've said it," he nodded appreciatively.

"Let's spend most of our time in the hills, Paul. I like it better than this, don't you?"

"Is this too domestic for you?" he teased.

"I suppose so. I don't want to be too intimate with you."

"You don't like me, on closer a.s.sociation?"

"I didn't say that."

"This kind of life is the ultimate test, I grant you that."

"Yes, it is. It's a good place to get acquainted." She turned her eyes on him. "I've just met you up here."

"Think you're going to like me?"

"I don't know."

"It is an awful responsibility."

"What is--liking you?"