Yes, said the boy, scornful of this feeble, grown-up repetition.
Come here.
The boy came doggedly forward. The man pushed back the well-worn straw hat from Clarences forehead and looked into his lowering face. With his hand still on the boys head he turned him round to the others, and said quietly,
Suthin of a pup, eh?
You bet, they responded.
The voice was not unkindly, although the speaker had thrown his lower jaw forward as if to pronounce the word pup with a humorous suggestion of a mastiff. Before Clarence could make up his mind if the epithet was insulting or not, the man put out his stirruped foot, and, with a gesture of invitation, said, Jump up.
But Susy, said Clarence, drawing back.
Look; shes making up to Phil already.
Clarence looked. Susy had crawled out of the mesquite, and with her sun-bonnet hanging down her back, her curls tossed around her face, still flushed with sleep, and Clarences jacket over her shoulders, was gazing up with grave satisfaction in the laughing eyes of one of the men who was with outstretched hands bending over her. Could he believe his senses? The terror-stricken, willful, unmanageable Susy, whom he would have translated unconsciously to safety without this terrible ordeal of being awakened to the loss of her home and parents at any sacrifice to himselfthis ingenuous infant was absolutely throwing herself with every appearance of forgetfulness into the arms of the first new-comer! Yet his perception of this fact was accompanied by no sense of ingratitude. For her sake he felt relieved, and with a boyish smile of satisfaction and encouragement vaulted into the saddle before the stranger.
CHAPTER IV
The dash forward to the train, securely held in the saddle by the arms of their deliverers, was a secret joy to the children that seemed only too quickly over. The resistless gallop of the fiery mustangs, the rush of the night wind, the gathering darkness in which the distant wagons, now halted and facing them, looked like domed huts in the horizonall these seemed but a delightful and fitting climax to the events of the day. In the sublime forgetfulness of youth, all they had gone through had left no embarrassing record behind it; they were willing to repeat their experiences on the morrow, confident of some equally happy end. And when Clarence, timidly reaching his hand towards the horse-hair reins lightly held by his companion, had them playfully yielded up to him by that hold and confident rider, the boy felt himself indeed a man.
But a greater surprise was in store for them. As they neared the wagons, now formed into a circle with a certain degree of military formality, they could see that the appointments of the strange party were larger and more liberal than their own, or indeed anything they had ever known of the kind. Forty or fifty horses were tethered within the circle, and the camp fires were already blazing. Before one of them a large tent was erected, and through the parted flaps could be seen a table actually spread with a white cloth. Was it a school feast, or was this their ordinary household arrangement? Clarence and Susy thought of their own dinners, usually laid on bare boards beneath the sky, or under the low hood of the wagon in rainy weather, and marveled. And when they finally halted, and were lifted from their horses, and passed one wagon fitted up as a bedroom and another as a kitchen, they could only nudge each other with silent appreciation. But here again the difference already noted in the quality of the sensations of the two children was observable. Both were equally and agreeably surprised. But Susys wonder was merely the sense of novelty and inexperience, and a slight disbelief in the actual necessity of what she saw; while Clarence, whether from some previous general experience or peculiar temperament, had the conviction that what he saw here was the usual custom, and what he had known with the Silsbees was the novelty. The feeling was attended with a slight sense of wounded pride for Susy, as if her enthusiasm had exposed her to ridicule.
The man who had carried him, and seemed to be the head of the party, had already preceded them to the tent, and presently reappeared with a lady with whom he had exchanged a dozen hurried words. They seemed to refer to him and Susy; but Clarence was too much preoccupied with the fact that the lady was pretty, that her clothes were neat and thoroughly clean, that her hair was tidy and not rumpled, and that, although she wore an apron, it was as clean as her gown, and even had ribbons on it, to listen to what was said. And when she ran eagerly forward, and with a fascinating smile lifted the astonished Susy in her arms, Clarence, in his delight for his young charge, quite forgot that she had not noticed him. The bearded man, who seemed to be the ladys husband, evidently pointed out the omission, with some additions that Clarence could not catch; for after saying, with a pretty pout, Well, why shouldnt he? she came forward with the same dazzling smile, and laid her small and clean white hand upon his shoulder.
And so you took good care of the dear little thing? Shes such an angel, isnt she? and you must love her very much.
Clarence colored with delight. It was true it had never occurred to him to look at Susy in the light of a celestial visitant, and I fear he was just then more struck with the fair complimenter than the compliment to his companion, but he was pleased for her sake. He was not yet old enough to be conscious of the sexs belief in its irresistible domination over mankind at all ages, and that Johnny in his check apron would be always a hopeless conquest of Jeannette in her pinafore, and that he ought to have been in love with Susy.
Howbeit, the lady suddenly whisked her away to the recesses of her own wagon, to reappear later, washed, curled, and beribboned like a new doll, and Clarence was left alone with the husband and another of the party.
Well, my boy, you havent told me your name yet.
Clarence, sir.
So Susy calls you, but what else?
Clarence Brant.
Any relation to Colonel Brant? asked the second man carelessly.
He was my father, said the boy, brightening under this faint prospect of recognition in his loneliness.
The two men glanced at each other. The leader looked at the boy curiously, and said,
Are you the son of Colonel Brant, of Louisville?
Yes, sir, said the boy, with a dim stirring of uneasiness in his heart. But hes dead now, he added finally.
Ah, when did he die? said the man quickly.
Oh, a long time ago. I dont remember him much. I was very little, said the boy, half apologetically.
Ah, you dont remember him?
No, said Clarence shortly. He was beginning to fall back upon that certain dogged repetition which in sensitive children arises from their hopeless inability to express their deeper feelings. He also had an instinctive consciousness that this want of a knowledge of his father was part of that vague wrong that had been done him. It did not help his uneasiness that he could see that one of the two men, who turned away with a half-laugh, misunderstood or did not believe him.
How did you come with the Silsbees? asked the first man.
Clarence repeated mechanically, with a childs distaste of practical details, how he had lived with an aunt at St. Jo, and how his stepmother had procured his passage with the Silsbees to California, where he was to meet his cousin. All this with a lack of interest and abstraction that he was miserably conscious told against him, but he was yet helpless to resist.
The first man remained thoughtful, and then glanced at Clarences sunburnt hands. Presently his large, good-humored smile returned.
Well, I suppose you are hungry?
Yes, said Clarence shyly. But
But what?
I should like to wash myself a little, he returned hesitatingly, thinking of the clean tent, the clean lady, and Susys ribbons.
Certainly, said his friend, with a pleased look. Come with me. Instead of leading Clarence to the battered tin basin and bar of yellow soap which had formed the toilet service of the Silsbee party, he brought the boy into one of the wagons, where there was a washstand, a china basin, and a cake of scented soap. Standing beside Clarence, he watched him perform his ablutions with an approving air which rather embarrassed his protege. Presently he said, almost abruptly,
Do you remember your fathers house at Louisville?
Yes, sir; but it was a long time ago.
Clarence remembered it as being very different from his home at St. Josephs, but from some innate feeling of diffidence he would have shrunk from describing it in that way. He, however, said he thought it was a large house. Yet the modest answer only made his new friend look at him the more keenly.
Your father was Colonel Hamilton Brant, of Louisville, wasnt he? he said, half-confidentially.
Yes, said Clarence hopelessly.
Well, said his friend cheerfully, as if dismissing an abstruse problem from his mind, Lets go to supper.
When they reached the tent again, Clarence noticed that the supper was laid only for his host and wife and the second manwho was familiarly called Harry, but who spoke of the former always as Mr. and Mrs. Peytonwhile the remainder of the party, a dozen men, were at a second camp fire, and evidently enjoying themselves in a picturesque fashion. Had the boy been allowed to choose, he would have joined them, partly because it seemed more manly, and partly that he dreaded a renewal of the questioning.
But here, Susy, sitting bolt upright on an extemporized high stool, happily diverted his attention by pointing to the empty chair beside her.
Klauns, she said suddenly, with her usual clear and appalling frankness, they is chickens, and hamanaigs, and hot biksquits, and lasses, and Mister Peyton says I kin have em all.
Clarence, who had begun suddenly to feel that he was responsible for Susys deportment and was balefully conscious that she was holding her plated fork in her chubby fist by its middle, and, from his previous knowledge of her, was likely at any moment to plunge it into the dish before her, said softly,
Hush!
Yes, you shall, dear, said Mrs. Peyton, with tenderly beaming assurance to Susy and a half-reproachful glance at the boy. Eat what you like, darling.
Its a fork, whispered the still uneasy Clarence, as Susy now seemed inclined to stir her bowl of milk with it.
Taint, now, Klauns, its only a split spoon, said Susy.
But Mrs. Peyton, in her rapt admiration, took small note of these irregularities, plying the child with food, forgetting her own meal, and only stopping at times to lift back the forward straying curls on Susys shoulders. Mr. Peyton looked on gravely and contentedly. Suddenly the eyes of husband and wife met.
Shed have been nearly as old as this, John, said Mrs. Peyton, in a faint voice.
John Peyton nodded without speaking, and turned his eyes away into the gathering darkness. The man Harry also looked abstractedly at his plate, as if he was saying grace. Clarence wondered who she was, and why two little tears dropped from Mrs. Peytons lashes into Susys milk, and whether Susy might not violently object to it. He did not know until later that the Peytons had lost their only child, and Susy comfortably drained this mingled cup of a mothers grief and tenderness without suspicion.
I suppose well come up with their train early tomorrow, if some of them dont find us to-night, said Mrs. Peyton, with a long sigh and a regretful glance at Susy. Perhaps we might travel together for a little while, she added timidly.
Harry laughed, and Mr. Peyton replied gravely, I am afraid we wouldnt travel with them, even for companys sake; and, he added, in a lower and graver voice, its rather odd the search party hasnt come upon us yet, though Im keeping Pete and Hank patrolling the trail to meet them.
Its heartlessso it is! said Mrs. Peyton, with sudden indignation. It would be all very well if it was only this boy, who can take care of himself; but to be so careless of a mere baby like this, its shameful!
For the first time Clarence tasted the cruelty of discrimination. All the more keenly that he was beginning to worship, after his boyish fashion, this sweet-faced, clean, and tender-hearted woman. Perhaps Mr. Peyton noticed it, for he came quietly to his aid.
Maybe they knew better than we in what careful hands they had left her, he said, with a cheerful nod towards Clarence. And, again, they may have been fooled as we were by Injin signs and left the straight road.
This suggestion instantly recalled to Clarence his vision in the mesquite. Should he dare tell them? Would they believe him, or would they laugh at him before her? He hesitated, and at last resolved to tell it privately to the husband. When the meal was ended, and he was made happy by Mrs. Peytons laughing acceptance of his offer to help her clear the table and wash the dishes, they all gathered comfortably in front of the tent before the large camp fire. At the other fire the rest of the party were playing cards and laughing, but Clarence no longer cared to join them. He was quite tranquil in the maternal propinquity of his hostess, albeit a little uneasy as to his reticence about the Indian.
Klauns, said Susy, relieving a momentary pause, in her highest voice, knows how to speak. Speak, Klauns!
It appearing from Clarences blushing explanation that this gift was not the ordinary faculty of speech, but a capacity to recite verse, he was politely pressed by the company for a performance.
Speak em, Klauns, the boy what stood unto the burnin deck, and said, The boy, oh, where was he? said Susy, comfortably lying down on Mrs. Peytons lap, and contemplating her bare knees in the air. Its bout a boy, she added confidentially to Mrs. Peyton, whose father wouldnt never, never stay with him on a burnin ship, though he said, Stay, father, stay, ever so much.
With this clear, lucid, and perfectly satisfactory explanation of Mrs. Hemanss Casabianca, Clarence began. Unfortunately, his actual rendering of this popular school performance was more an effort of memory than anything else, and was illustrated by those wooden gestures which a Western schoolmaster had taught him. He described the flames that roared around him, by indicating with his hand a perfect circle, of which he was the axis; he adjured his father, the late Admiral Casabianca, by clasping his hands before his chin, as if wanting to be manacled in an attitude which he was miserably conscious was unlike anything he himself had ever felt or seen before; he described that father faint in death below, and the flag on high, with one single motion. Yet something that the verses had kindled in his active imagination, perhaps, rather than an illustration of the verses themselves, at times brightened his gray eyes, became tremulous in his youthful voice, and I fear occasionally incoherent on his lips. At times, when not conscious of his affected art, the plain and all upon it seemed to him to slip away into the night, the blazing camp fire at his feet to wrap him in a fateful glory, and a vague devotion to somethinghe knew not whatso possessed him that he communicated it, and probably some of his own youthful delight in extravagant voice, to his hearers, until, when he ceased with a glowing face, he was surprised to find that the card players had deserted their camp fires and gathered round the tent.