CHAPTER XXV A PREHISTORIC HEARTH
When Stephens took his way through the moonlight, carrying the spade before him on the saddle, his heart was lighter than it had been for days. He was so used to living alone that this novel experience of being constantly in the company of others, night and day, without interruption, ever since the hour when he had rescued Josefa from the cacique, had tired him out. Also he disliked the sense of having others dependent on him, and during the whole of that time he had been burdened with responsibility, first for Josefa and then for the Mexican girl. At last, thank goodness, that was all over and done with. Josefa was secure in Reyna's keeping, and Manuelita was safe at home, while Mahletonkwa had been paid his money and dismissed; now John Stephens was his own man again, and not bound to see after other people's affairs any longer. He could go about his proper business by himself in his own independent way, and that was precisely what he liked better than anything else in the world. As for this matter of finding and burying the dead man's bones, it was one for which he was answerable to nobody but himself. Of his own free will and pleasure he had decided that it should be done, and, accordingly, here he was doing it. And what a useful pretext it had supplied him with for getting away from the fuss and flummery at San Remo. When he thought of those two stout, elderly dames falling upon him like a pair of animated feather-beds, and giving him their blessing, he felt weak; what a mercy he had this excuse of the burial to help him escape from it all! And then his mind reverted to Manuelita sitting there in the midst of the fuss, her eyes bright as ever in spite of fatigue and of the tears of joy she had shed at getting home, her cheeks pink with excitement, and her lively tongue going sixteen to the dozen. Was he, after all, so particularly glad to be off by himself once more? He hated a mob of people on principle, but was he so particularly glad to get away from her? Well, come to think of it, in a manner he was, and yet, again, he wasn't. Looking at it in one way, he wouldn't care much to be planted down there again in that crowded room with those cousins and aunts all round her, but suppose, now, that he had her once again with him up here in the sierra, alone together the two of them. He thought of how they had watched over one another, turn about, in the camp, and how she had mocked at his simple cookery, and the fun they had really had with one another. What a good time it had been; and yet when he was having it, so it seemed to him now, he had not been aware of the fact. Perhaps he had been too anxious about her then to realise it, but it was God's truth all the same, and they had had a good time. What was more, he knew it now and no mistake, and he wondered how it had come about that it was so good. By George! but he did wish he had her along right here and now, she riding on the horse, with him running alongside just as he had done that afternoon. She was good to talk to, and no mistake, and when he pointed things out to her and told her about them, everything seemed to have an unwonted zest which was lacking now in her absence, although he was riding over the very same ground he had traversed with her only a few hours ago. Every turn in the trail recalled to his mind something he had said to her or she had said to him. And how they had laughed, to be sure! He sighed at the recollection without having the least idea that he sighed, but he did not shake off the idea of how good it would be to have her with him. Strange to say he began to discover that he did not seem to quite care for his own company as he used to do. Unconsciously he lost himself in a reverie, until his horse stumbled over a stone, and he jerked the rein and struck him indignantly with the spur.
And all the time Felipe, with the revolver in his belt, was tracking him like a sleuth-hound.
Stephens reached the camp where they had passed the night in the little park, and the recollection of it all came back vividly; he remembered how startled he had been when she woke him, and he had sprung up with his rifle cocked, ready to shoot; he remembered his surprise and pleasure at seeing how neat and trim she had made herself while he slept, in spite of all the rough and discomposing experiences her involuntary journey had involved. "Grit! Yes, by George! she had lots of it, sure; and endurance too. She was just about as brave as they make 'em."
Through the little park he passed, and out of it again on the other side. Now he must begin to think about his destination; somewhere along here he meant to turn off to the left in order to cut in upon the head of that little cañon where he had killed the deer. That would save quite a lot of travelling. There was a good moon, and there was no need to retrace the whole trail back to the exact spot where he had fired the shot. "If I only had Faro along now," he said, "he could take me to the place where I killed the deer, blindfold, if I wanted him to." But Faro was far away at Don Nepomuceno's; he was a little footsore after the long journey he had made, so his master left him behind under the care of Manuelita. After a time Stephens noticed a favourable place for turning off among the pines, at what he judged would be about the right distance to strike the cañon. He wheeled his horse sharp to the left, and pushed steadily on over the carpet of pine-needles in the new direction.
And Felipe, following ever like a sleuth-hound, here overran the track just as did Backus half an hour later. But, unlike Backus, the acuter Indian boy had not overrun it many minutes before his quick instincts told him what he had done; he at once retraced his steps, and quickly succeeded in finding the place where Stephens had wheeled so sharp. He followed this new direction through the pines for a little way, but the horse-tracks on the dry pine-needles were practically invisible at night, and he soon became conscious that he had lost them, and that it was doubtful whether he could succeed in recovering them again. Nevertheless, with the tireless determination of his race, he persevered, more like a hound than ever as he quested now to right and now to left and now making a bold cast forward, in the hope that by a lucky chance he might stumble upon them. He passed thus through the belt of pine timber and out into the open park country beyond it. But casting about for a lost trail at night is a slow business, and the moon was already low in the west when his eye ranging around caught the light of a fire against a distant cliff. "That must be he," cried the boy, grasping the pistol with his left hand; "I'll get him now."
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Stephens had a good eye for country; he had judged his distance correctly, and he hit the head of the little cañon he was searching for with singular accuracy. The country that he had here got into was beautifully open and park-like, only with some rough, rocky ridges intersecting it here and there, and he searched around freely and easily, keeping the moon on his left hand. Through the mountain glades he wandered, in the bright, mysterious light which seems so clear and yet which shows nothing as it really is.