The Forbidden Trail Part 27

A moment of this and then the instinct that has lifted man above the brutes spoke in him again. He would not belong to life only through children. He would make himself immortal through his work, work by which men should live and think and have their being for ages to come.

With a long sigh, Roger tossed his black hair back from his face and returned to his brick making.

CHAPTER VII

THE RUNAWAY

The three men toiled arduously for two days on the brick making. At the end of that time the desert all about the camp was paved with adobe brick, baking in the sun until d.i.c.k should come to start them on their house building. On the evening of the second day, Roger tramped up to the ranch house and proposed to d.i.c.k that they exchange work for half a day; Roger to finish d.i.c.k's grading, while d.i.c.k instructed Gustav and Ernest in the gentle art of adobe laying.

But d.i.c.k would not strike the bargain. "I've only an hour's work before I'm ready to start the seeding," he said, "and I won't trust any one to attend to that but myself. I'll just ride over to the Sun Plant in the morning and it won't take half an hour to teach you fellows all I know about putting up the house."

"I'm going too," said Felicia. She was sitting, cuddling her doll before the fire, for the nights were still cool.

"Almost your bedtime, Felicia," warned Charley.

The child gave Roger an agonized look.

"I brought you a present, Felicia," he said, and pulled the tiny olla out of his pocket.

"Oh, a water jar! Just like yours, Charley!" shrieked Felicia, taking the little bowl carefully in her slender childish fingers. "Where did you get it, Roger?"

Roger described his meeting with the squaws, and d.i.c.k added, "The whole outfit is camping on a canyon the other side of the range. Old Rabbit Tail told me this morning when he brought down the wood. It's there they find the rock they make these ollas of. It's a kind of decomposed granite. They pulverize it with their metates, add boiling water and get a very fair clay. Qui-tha is up there with them and his strong medicine has made a hit."

"Do they make dishes cheap, d.i.c.ky?" asked Felicia, crowding close to her brother's knee. "Would they make me some doll dishes cheap, do you think?"

d.i.c.k lifted the little girl to his knee and kissed her. "Why cheap, little old chick-a-biddy?"

"Because I heard you tell Charley funds were getting awful low now you'd sold the last of the turquoise. But this doll will starve, d.i.c.ky, if she doesn't have dishes to eat off of."

"She looks fairly well fed," suggested Charley, shaking her head a little helplessly over the frank statement of the family finances.

"She mustn't get run down, though," said d.i.c.k. "When I see one of the squaws, I'll order some dishes, money or no money."

"I don't see why Aunt May didn't send along more of her toys," sighed Charley. "It was so stupid of her! There is nothing at Archer's Springs."

"Don't you worry, Charley!" cried Felicia. "The squaws will make me some. I'll ask 'em."

"That's a good sport," said d.i.c.k, hugging the child against his broad chest. He was Felicia's devoted slave, and Charley had no help from him in maintaining discipline. It was she who said now:

"Look at the clock, Felicia, dear."

"I'd rather not," answered Felicia. Nevertheless, she slid off d.i.c.k's lap and with the doll and the olla in her arms, kissed each of the grown-ups in turn, and went off to bed.

"She's the best kid I ever saw," said d.i.c.k, after her bedroom door had closed.

"And the prettiest," added Roger.

"You men spoil her," protested Charley, "and it's too bad because she really is unusual."

"Pshaw! You were just like her," grunted d.i.c.k, "and we all petted you.

And heaven knows, you aren't spoiled. Of course, you're much too strict with Felicia--and me."

Charley flushed. "You don't really think so, do you, d.i.c.k?" she asked.

Roger joined d.i.c.k in a chuckle at this. Charley's adoration of her brother was obvious to the most casual observer. She laughed a little herself and it occurred to Roger that her laugh was much like Felicia's, just as innocent and spontaneous.

"I can always get a rise that way, eh, old girl," cried d.i.c.k. "And I know why you're blushing. You hate on top of this, to remind me that I haven't bedded the horses. Well, I'll attend to it instantly and relieve your embarra.s.sment. I'll be back in a moment, Roger."

"d.i.c.k is in good trim again," said Roger.

"Oh, I do so hope he'll stay well!" exclaimed Charley with a sudden fervor that surprised Roger. "He's such a dear and he's been so handicapped! I think it's going to make a big difference to him, having Felicia and you people here. He's been so lonely."

"Haven't you been lonely?" asked Roger.

"Yes," replied Charley. Then after a pause, "How does your work go?"

"Very slowly! I get half crazy with impatience. Even after all the warnings I received, I had no idea of the difficulties in the desert. I realize now that I'm only about half equipped, for desert building."

"You mean mentally or financially?" asked Charley with a quick look.

"Financially, of course--or--what made you ask me that?" Roger's voice was a little indignant.

"Well, you see," answered Charley, "I've been in the desert longer than you and I know that impatience leads to madness. And you're an impatient sort of person."

"Impatient!" Roger burst out. "Impatient! When for ten years I've clung to one idea, hoping against hope, believing that the impossible would happen."

"You poor boy! Don't you suppose I know? But now that you're down here at work, you've got to be even more patient. The desert is cussed mean.

You and d.i.c.k have both got to contend with the old vixen for a long time before you put your dreams through."

"Don't you worry about my impatience," replied Roger. "My middle name is patience. You'll see!"

d.i.c.k's cheerful whistle came up the trail. Charley looked at Roger as he thoughtfully relighted his pipe. His bronze black hair was ruddy in the firelight, Charley liked his hair and she liked his square jaw and deep gray eyes, though they seemed to her a little cold and selfish as were his lips. Charley had been educated with boys in the big middle western town whither the Prebles had moved. From the time that she had entered kindergarten at four until she graduated from college at twenty-two she had buffeted through life shoulder to shoulder with boys. Charley knew men and she had read Roger as clearly as though his mind were an open book. She knew that the desert would either make or ruin a man of Roger's temperament.

d.i.c.k swung open the kitchen door. Roger rose, slowly.

"You folks had better have supper with us, to-morrow night," he suggested.

The Prebles accepted with alacrity and Roger wandered slowly home across the desert. He liked the Prebles, better than he had ever liked any family but Ernest's. Patience! He'd show that tall, dark-eyed girl that his fund was limitless.

Schmidt was worth two ordinary men, in spite of the fact that he was not in full health, and that he was deliberate in all his movements. His deliberation meant that he used his head to guide his hands. What with his steady persistent following of Roger's rapid, feverish energy and of Ernest's cheerful conscientious poddering, by mid-afternoon the engine house walls were half finished. When Charley, carrying a great basket, reached them about sundown, the door frames were almost covered in.

Ernest introduced Schmidt, who laughingly showed his muddy hands.

"I never saw three people who more evidently needed baths," Charley laughed in turn. "I suppose Felicia is the worst of the lot. Where is the child?"