Part 46 (1/2)

”I don't know. Down along the cliff perhaps. I may see another deer.”

”Yes. You might as well. Deer meat will keep--longer than we--”

He checked the unnecessary speech. She rewarded him with a smile and left him.

And now he faced a curious situation within himself. He saw clearly, but strangely without sensation, that it was too late for Marion to attempt the pa.s.sage of the mountain. Whatever chance she might have had before--and that was perhaps even less than the one in a thousand of which he had spoken--she had now no chance at all, supposing that he should force her to seek it by measures of desperation. And why had he delayed? He did not know. Had he weakened? Had his injuries taken something from his courage? He drew his treasured knife from his pocket, opened the largest of the three keen blades, and pa.s.sed it slowly but lightly across his wrist. No; his hand was steady; he could do it without a tremor. He could have done it yesterday, the day before, or any day. Well, then; had he become sceptical of such a solution of his problem? Perhaps. Six times in his life he had attempted that solution, and always he had failed. And yet, what could have thwarted him when Marion was far away in the forest, and he lay quiet and undisturbed on his blankets, in full possession of his faculties?

By such process of elimination he arrived at the final question: was it she? Was it this girl that now stayed his hand, in spite of all his logic and clear vision and resolution? This girl, with her foolish faith, and misplaced love, and futile talk of miracles? Was it written that they should die together--written in some volume of the book of life into which he had never looked? Or was she right? And would there be--

He looked out again upon the gleaming whiteness of the meadow, at the snow line on the pines, at the remorseless mountain. He pa.s.sed slowly in review again the chances of a rescue, the chances of their wintering in that (soon-to-be) s...o...b..und valley, the chances of a--miracle. And he shook his head. The odds were beyond all reckoning; their fate was now as certain as if the cliff yonder, rent by another cataclysm, had tumbled down upon them while they slept. But he had known this in the very hour of his awakening to find her kneeling at his side; he had delayed giving her the one chance of escape. And so, was it because she had commanded him and he had unconsciously obeyed?

It was mystery; it was enigma. He tried to think if he had erred in any way, if there was any fault to be attributed to him. No; he had dealt more than fairly with this girl; he had spoken frankly and brutally; he had never once consciously, by word or look, enticed her.

Unconsciously, perhaps; but how could he ever have foreseen such consequences of the infatuation of which he had become slowly and incredulously informed? He would have gone raging out of the Park, between two suns (and Thursby be d.a.m.ned!), if he had ever dreamt of this tragic end of her midsummer madness.

For two hours he lay thinking, torturing his brain for an explanation of this mystery, an understanding of this coil. And he was no nearer a solution than at the beginning, when his thoughts were interrupted by Marion. She came running out of the forest--not running, but fairly bounding, as if her feet were too light to rest on earth. Her face was flushed, her eyes danced with excitement. But then, seeing his grave and questioning face, she stopped short in front of him, suddenly embarra.s.sed.

”Well?” he asked gently.

”Would--a cave do?”

Her voice trembled between timidity and shortness of breath.

”A cave?”

”Yes.”

”What kind of a cave?”

”A big cave--really two caves joined together.”

”Where?”

”In the cliff--down there.”

She pointed in the direction from which she had come at full speed.

”How high above the level of the valley?”

She stared at him, and was again embarra.s.sed.

”I forgot that!” she said, in deep chagrin. ”But wait, please!” She looked around her. ”I think--I know what you mean! It's higher up than the marks on the trees there, surely it is!”

”Tell me about it!”

”It's only a little way from here. There's a narrow, clear s.p.a.ce all along between the forest and the cliff, where the gra.s.s grows high.

But there's one place--I missed it before, when I was just looking for deer--where the cliff--How can I describe it? It sinks in, and there's a slope up to it, solid rock. And at the top of the slope I saw a black hole, and got off my pony to look in. The slope is easy to climb. Tuesday climbed it with me. The mouth of the cave is partly hidden by a rock that sticks out so that you can see the opening only from one side. The entrance is no bigger than the door of your stable.

I was afraid at first, but--”

”You thought of your miracle,” he suggested, with a smile.