“Guess ther’s nothing weird outside the mind of man,” he said. “Anyway, nothing that needs to scare folk.” He turned and surveyed the hill and the wonderful green country surrounding them. “Get a look around,” he went on, with a comprehensive gesture. “This rock—it’s just rock, natural rock; it’s rock you’ll find most anywhere. It’s got dumped down right here wher’ most things are green, an’ dandy, an’ beautiful to the eye; so it looks queer, an’ sets your thoughts gropin’ among the cobwebs of mystery. Ther’s sure no life to it but the life of rock. This great overhang has just been cut by washouts of centuries in spring, when the creek’s in flood, an’ it just happens ther’s a hot sulphur lake on top, fed by a spring. I’ve known it these years an’ years. Guess it’s sure always been the same. It ain’t got enough to it to scare a jack-rabbit.”
Joan shook her head. But the man was glad to see the return of her natural expression, and that her smiling eyes were filled with a growing interest He knew that her strange mood was passing.
He went on at once in his most deliberate fashion.
“You needn’t to shake your head,” he said, with a smile of confidence. “It’s jest the same with everything. It sure is. We make life what it is for ourselves. It’s the same for everybody, an’ each feller gets busy makin’ it different. The feller that gets chasin’ trouble don’t need to run. He only needs to set around and shout. Guess it’ll come along if he’s yearnin’ for it. But it don’t come on its own. That’s sure as sure. Keep brain an’ body busy doin’ the things that lie handy, an’ when you got to make good among the rocks of life, why, I sure guess you won’t find a rock half big enough to stop you.”
Watching the deep glowing eyes of the man Joan felt that his confidence was not merely the confidence of brave words. A single glance into his purposeful face left the definite impression that his was a strength that is given to few. It was the strength of a simple, honest mind as yet unfouled by the grosser evils of an effete civilization. His was the force and courage of the wild—the impulse which governs all creatures who live in the midst of Nature’s battle-grounds.
“That’s—that’s because you’re so strong you feel that way,” she said, making no attempt to disguise the admiration she felt. “The burden of life does not always fall so easily. There are things, too, in spite of what you say, that we cannot control—evils, I mean evils which afflict us.”
Buck glanced away down the creek. Then his eyes came back to her, and a new resolve lay behind them.
“I’m no stronger than others,” he said. “Guess I haven’t ha’f the strength of some. I’d say——” he paused. Then he went on, his eyes gazing fearlessly into hers: “I’d say I haven’t ha’f the strength of a gal who gives up the city—a young gal jest beginning a woman’s life with ’most everything in her favor—an’ comes right out here to farm without a livin’ soul to pass her a hand. I ain’t got ha’f the courage of a gal who does that jest because she’s chased by thoughts that worry her an’ make her days no better than to set her—hatin’ them. Strength? Say, when you ken laff an’ all the time feel that life ain’t ha’f so pleasant as death, why, I’d sure say ther’ ain’t no greater strength this side of the check-taker’s box.”
Joan could hardly believe her ears as she listened. Astonishment, resentment, helplessness, incredulity, all struggled for place. How had this man discovered her secret? How? How? What did he know besides? For a moment her feelings robbed her of speech and betrayed themselves in her expressive face.