"No.You see the mill was filled with them fellers as the sheriff was arter,and it went over with 'em--and I"--"Alice,"said Key,with a white face,"would you mind going to my horse,which you will find somewhere near yours,and bringing me a medicine case from my saddle-bags?"The innocent girl glanced quickly at her companion,saw the change in his face,and,attributing it to the imminent danger of the injured man,at once glided away.When she was out of hearing,Key leaned gravely over him:--"Collinson,I must trust you with a secret.I am afraid that this poor girl who helped you is the sister of the leader of that gang the sheriff was in pursuit of.She has been kept in perfect ignorance of her brother's crimes.She must NEVER know them--nor even know his fate!If he perished utterly in this catastrophe,as it would seem--it was God's will to spare her that knowledge.Itell you this,to warn you in anything you say before her.She MUST believe,as I shall try to make her believe,that he has gone back to the States--where she will perhaps,hereafter,believe that he died.Better that she should know nothing--and keep her thought of him unchanged.""I see--I see--I see,Mr.Key,"murmured the injured man."Thet's wot I've been sayin'to myself lyin'here all night.Thet's wot Ibin sayin'o'my wife Sadie,--her that I actooally got to think kem back to me last night.You see I'd heerd from one o'those fellars that a woman like unto her had been picked up in Texas and brought on yere,and that mebbe she was somewhar in Californy.I was that foolish--and that ontrue to her,all the while knowin',as I once told you,Mr.Key,that ef she'd been alive she'd bin yere--that Ibelieved it true for a minit!And that was why,afore this happened,I had a dream,right out yer,and dreamed she kem to me,all white and troubled,through the woods.At first I thought it war my Sadie;but when I see she warn't like her old self,and her voice was strange and her laugh was strange--then I knowed it wasn't her,and I was dreamin'.You're right,Mr.Key,in wot you got off just now--wot was it?Better to know nothin'--and keep the old thoughts unchanged.""Have you any pain?"asked Key after a pause.
"No;I kinder feel easier now."
Key looked at his changing face."Tell me,"he said gently,"if it does not tax your strength,all that has happened here,all you know.It is for HER sake."Thus adjured,with his eyes fixed on Key,Collinson narrated his story from the irruption of the outlaws to the final catastrophe.
Even then he palliated their outrage with his characteristic patience,keeping still his strange fascination for Chivers,and his blind belief in his miserable wife.The story was at times broken by lapses of faintness,by a singular return of his old abstraction and forgetfulness in the midst of a sentence,and at last by a fit of coughing that left a few crimson bubbles on the corners of his month.Key lifted his eyes anxiously;there was some grave internal injury,which the dying man's resolute patience had suppressed.Yet,at the sound of Alice's returning step,Collinson's eyes brightened,apparently as much at her coming as from the effect of the powerful stimulant Key had taken from his medicine case.
"I thank ye,Mr.Key,"he said faintly;"for I've got an idea Iain't got no great time before me,and I've got suthin'to say to you,afore witnesses"--his eyes sought Alice's in half apology--"afore witnesses,you understand.Would you mind standin'out thar,afore me,in the light,so I kin see you both,and you,miss,rememberin',ez a witness,suthin'I got to tell to him?You might take his hand,miss,to make it more regular and lawlike."The two did as he bade them,standing side by side,painfully humoring what seemed to them to be wanderings of a dying man.
"Thar was a young fellow,"said Collinson in a steady voice,"ez kem to my shanty a night ago on his way to the--the--valley.He was a sprightly young fellow,gay and chipper-like,and he sez to me,confidential-like,'Collinson,'sez he,'I'm off to the States this very night on business of importance;mebbe I'll be away a long time--for years!You know,'sez he,'Mr.Key,in the Hollow!
Go to him,'sez he,'and tell him ez how I hadn't time to get to see him;tell him,'sez he,'that RIVERS'--you've got the name,Mr.
Key?--you've got the name,miss?--'that RIVERS wants him to say this to his little sister from her lovin'brother.And tell him,sez he,this yer RIVERS,'to look arter her,being alone.'You remember that,Mr.Key?you remember it,miss?You see,Iremembered it,too,being,so to speak,alone myself"--he paused,and added in a faint whisper--"till now."Then he was silent.That innocent lie was the first and last upon his honest lips;for as they stood there,hand in hand,they saw his plain,hard face take upon itself,at first,the gray,ashen hues of the rocks around him,and then and thereafter something of the infinite tranquillity and peace of that wilderness in which he had lived and died,and of which he was a part.
Contemporaneous history was less kindly.The "Bald Top Sentinel"congratulated its readers that the late seismic disturbance was accompanied with very little loss of life,if any."It is reported that the proprietor of a low shebeen for emigrants in an obscure hollow had succumbed from injuries;but,"added the editor,with a fine touch of Western humor,"whether this was the result of his being forcibly mixed up with his own tanglefoot whiskey or not,we are unable to determine from the evidence before us."For all that,a small stone shaft was added later to the rocks near the site of the old mill,inscribed to the memory of this obscure proprietor,"with the singular legend:"Have ye faith like to him?"And those who knew only of the material catastrophe looking around upon the scene of desolation it commemorated,thought grimly that it must be faith indeed,and--were wiser than they knew.
"You smiled,Don Preble,"said the Lady Superior to Key a few weeks later,"when I told to you that many caballeros thought it most discreet to intrust their future brides to the maternal guardianship and training of the Holy Church;yet,of a truth,Imeant not YOU.And yet--eh!well,we shall see."
