XXX
When they came to their tents he went into hers, slung her hammock properly, shook a scorpion out of her slippers, and set his heel on it; drove a non-poisonous but noisy puff-adder from under her foot-rug, the creature hissing like a boiling kettle and distending its grey and black neck.
Terrified but outwardly calm, she stood beside him, now clutching his arm very closely; and at last her tent was in order, the last spider and lizard hustled out, the oil cook-stove burning, the tinned goods ready, the aluminum batterie-de-cuisine ranged at her elbow.
"I wonder," he said, hesitating, "whether I[305] dare leave you long enough to go and dig some holes with a crow-bar."
"Why, of course!" she said. "You can't have me tagging at your heels every minute, you know."
He laughed: "It's I who do the tagging."
"It isn't disagreeable," she said shyly.
"I don't mean to dog every step you take," he continued, "but now, when you are out of my sight, I—I can't help feeling a trifle anxious."
"But you mustn't feel responsible for me. I came down here on my own initiative. I certainly deserve whatever happens to me. Don't I?"
"What comfort would that be to me if anything unpleasant did happen to you?"
"Why," she asked frankly, "should you feel as responsible for my welfare as that? After all, I am only a stranger, you know."
He said: "Do you really feel like a stranger? Do you really feel that I am one?"
She considered the proposition for a few moments.
"No," she said, "I don't. And perhaps it is natural for us to take a friendly interest in each other."
"It comes perfectly natural to me to take a v-very v-vivid interest in you," he said. "What[306] with snakes and scorpions and wood-ticks and unboiled water and the actinic rays of the sun, I can't very well help worrying about you. After all," he added lucidly, "you're a girl, you know."
She admitted the accusation with a smile so sweet that there could be no doubt of her sex.
"However," she said, "you should entertain no apprehensions concerning me. I have none concerning you. I think you know your business."
"Of course," he said, going into his tent and returning loaded with crow-bar, pick-axe, dynamite, battery, and wires.
She laid aside the aluminum cooking-utensils with which she had been fussing and rose from her knees as he passed her with a pleasant nod of au revoir.
"You'll be careful with that dynamite, won't you?" she said anxiously. "You know it goes off at all sorts of unexpected moments."
"I think I understand how to handle it," he reassured her.
"Are you quite certain?"
"Oh, yes. But perhaps you'd better not come any nearer——"
"Mr. White!"
"What!"
"It is dangerous! I don't like to have you go[307] away alone with that dynamite. You make me very anxious."
"You needn't be. If—in the very remote event of anything going wrong—now don't forget what I say!—but in case of an accident to me, you'll be all right if you start back to Verbena at once—instantly—and take the right-hand road——"
"Mr. White!"
"Yes?"
"I was not thinking of myself! I was concerned about you!"
"Me?—personally?"
"Of course! You say you have me on your mind. Do you think I am devoid of human feeling?"
"Were you—really—thinking about me?" he repeated slowly. "That was very nice of you.... I didn't quite understand.... I'll be careful with the dynamite."
"Perhaps I'd better go with you," she suggested irresolutely.
"Why?"
"I could hold a green umbrella over you while you are digging holes. You yourself say that the sun is dangerous."
"My sun-helmet makes it all right," he said, deeply touched.[308]
"You won't take it off, will you?"
"No."
"And you'll look all around you for snakes before you take the next step, won't you?" she insisted.
He promised, thrilled by her frank solicitude.
A little way up the path he paused, looked around, and saw her standing there looking after him.
"You're sure you'll be all right?" he called back to her.
"Yes. Are you sure you will be?"
"Oh, yes!"
They made two quick gestures of adieu, and he resumed the path. Presently he turned again. She was still standing there looking after him. They made two gestures of farewell and he resumed the path. After a while he looked back. She—but what's the use!
When he came to the spot marked for destruction, he laid down his paraphernalia, seized the crow-bar, and began to dig, scarcely conscious of what he was about because he had become so deeply absorbed in other things—in an-other thing—a human one with red hair and otherwise divinely endowed.
The swift onset of this heavenly emotion was[309] making him giddy—or perhaps it was unaccustomed manual labor under a semi-tropical sun.
Anyway he went about his work blindly but vigorously, seeing nothing of the surrounding landscape or of the immediate ground into which he rammed his crow-bar, so constantly did the charming vision of her piquant features shut out all else.
And all the time he was worrying, too. He thought of snakes biting her distractingly pretty ankles; he thought of wood-ticks and of her snowy neck; of scorpions and of the delicate little hands.
How on earth was he ever going to endure the strain if already, in these few hours, his anxiety about her welfare was assuming such deep and portentous proportions! How was he going to stand the worry until she was safe in the snakeless, tickless North again!
She couldn't remain here! She must go North. His mind seemed already tottering under its new and constantly increasing load of responsibility; and he dug away fiercely with his bar, making twice as many holes as he had meant to.
For he had suddenly determined to be done with the job and get her into some safe place, and he[310] meant to set off a charge of dynamite that would do the business without fail.
Charging and tamping the holes, he used caution, even in spite of his increasing impatience to return and see how she was; arguing very justly with himself that if he blew himself up he couldn't very well learn how she was.
So he attached the wires very carefully, made his connections, picked up the big reel and the remainder of his tools, and walked toward the distant tents, unreeling his wire as he moved along.
She was making soup, but she heard the jangle of his equipment, sprang to her feet, and ran out to meet him.
He let fall everything and held out both hands. In them she laid her own.
"I'm so glad to see you!" he said warmly. "I'm so thankful that you're all right!"
"I'm so glad you came back," she said frankly. "I have been most uneasy about you."
"I've been very anxious, too," he said. Then, drawing an unfeigned sigh of relief: "It does seem good to get back again!" He had been away nearly half an hour.
She examined the wire and the battery gingerly, asking him innumerable questions about it.
"Do you suppose," she ended, "that it will be[311] safe for you to set off the charge from this camp?"
"Oh, perfectly," he nodded.
"Of course," she said, half to herself, "we'll both be blown up if it isn't safe. And that is something!"
And she came up very close when he said he was ready to fire, and laid her hand on his arm. The hand was steady enough. But when he glanced at her he saw how white she had become.
"Why, Jean!" he said gently. "Are you frightened?"
"No.... I won't mind it if I may stand rather near you." And she closed her eyes and placed both hands over her ears.
"Do you think I'd fire this charge," he demanded warmly, "if there was the slightest possible danger to you? Take down your hands and listen."
Her closed eyelids quivered: "We'll both—there won't be anything left of either of us if anything does happen," she said tremulously. "I am not afraid.... Only tell me when to close my ears."
"Do you really think there is danger?"
"I don't know."
He looked at her standing there, pale, plucky,[312] eyes tightly shut, her pretty fingers resting lightly on her ears.
He said: "Would you think me crazy if I tell you something?"
"W-What?"
"Would you think me insane, Jean?"
"I don't think I would."
"You wouldn't consider me utterly mad?"
"N-no."
"No—what?"
"No, I wouldn't consider you mad——"
"No—what?" he persisted.
And after a moment her pallor was tinted with a delicate rose.
"No—what?" he insisted again.
"No—Jim," she answered under breath.
"Then—close your ears, Jean, dear."
She closed them; his arm encircled her waist. She bore it nobly.
"You may fire when you are ready—James!" she said faintly.
A thunder-clap answered her; the Causeway seemed to spring up under their feet; the world reeled.
Presently she heard his voice sounding calmly: "Are you all right, Jean?"
"Yes.... I was thinking of you—as long as[313] I could think at all. I was ready to go—anywhere—with you."
"I have been ready for that," he said unsteadily, "from the moment I heard your voice. But it is—is wonderful of you!"
She opened her blue eyes, dreamily looking up into his. Then the colour surged into her face.
"If—if you had spoken to me across the aisle," she said, "it would have begun even sooner, I think.... Because I can't imagine myself not—caring for you."
He took her into his arms:
"Don't worry," he said, "I'll make a place for you in the world, even if that Maltese cross means nothing."
She looked into his eyes fearlessly: "I know you will," she said.
Then he kissed her and she put both arms around his neck and offered her fresh, young lips again.[314]
