The Angel of the Gila Part 30

Then Esther talked to him till he buried his face in his arms and sobbed. She probed down into his heart. At last she asked him what he thought he should do. Still silence. She waited. The clock ticked louder and louder in the ears of the child: "Say it! Say it! Say it!"

At last he spoke.

"I ought tae tell Wathemah I lied; but I dinna want tae tell him afore the lads."

"Ah!" she said, "but you said your untruthful words before them; and unless you are a coward, your apology ought to be before them."

"I am nae coward," he said, lifting his head.

"Then you must apologize to Wathemah before the children to-morrow."

"Yes, mum."

Then she dismissed him, telling him to remember what he had done, when he prayed to G.o.d that night.

"Did G.o.d hear me lie?" he asked.

"I think so, Donald."

The child looked troubled.

"I didna think o' that. I'll tell Him I'm sorry," he said as he left the schoolroom.

He began to search for Wathemah, that he might make peace with him.

At first Carla's search was fruitless. Then she sought him in a place she knew he loved, away up the canyon. There, sure enough, she found him. He sat on a bowlder near a cascade with his back toward her.

Beyond him, on the other side of the stream, rose the overhanging cliffs. He did not hear her step as he listened to the music of the waters.

"Wathemah!" she called. He started, then turned toward her. She saw that he had been crying. She climbed up on the bowlder and sat down beside him.

"Donald lie!" he said, angrily.

"Yes, Wathemah, but he is sorry for it, and I am sure will tell you so."

She saw tears roll down the dirty little face. She had the wisdom to leave him alone; and walking a short distance up the canyon, sent pebbles skipping the water. After a while this drew him to her.

"Shall we go up stream?" she asked.

He nodded. They jumped from bowlder to bowlder, and at last stopped where the waters go softly, making a soothing music for the ear.

"Carla!"

"Yes, Wathemah."

"Jesus forgive?"

"Yes, dear, He does." Then Carla's self-control gave way, and she sobbed out her long-suppressed grief. Instantly the child's arms were around her neck.

"No cry, Carla!" he said. "No cry, Carla!" patting her cheek.

Then, putting his tear-stained cheek close to hers, he said:

"Jesus love Carla."

She gathered the little comforter in her arms; and though her tears fell fast, they brought relief to her heart.

At last she persuaded him to return to school the following day, and to do all he could to atone for leaving it without permission.

On their return, they sought the teacher in the schoolhouse, but she was gone, and the door was locked; neither was she to be found at the Clayton ranch. The little penitent lingered a long time, but his Beloved did not come. At last he walked reluctantly in to camp.

Away up the mountain road, Esther Bright and Kenneth Hastings drew rein. The Englishman sat his horse well; but it was evident his companion was not a horsewoman. She might s.h.i.+ne in a drawing-room or in a home, but not on a horse's back. If she had not been riding one of the finest saddle horses in the country, she would have appeared to greater disadvantage.

The canter up the mountain road had brought the color to her cheeks.

It had also shaken out her hairpins; and now her wavy brown hair, with its glint of gold, tumbled about her shoulders.

"You look like a gypsy," Kenneth was saying.

She laughed.

"The last gypsies I ever saw," she said merrily, "were encamped along the road through Beekman's Woods, as you approach Tarrytown-on-Hudson from the north. The gypsy group was picturesque, but the individuals looked villainous. I hope I do not strongly resemble them," she said still laughing; then added, "They wanted to tell our fortunes."

"Did you let them tell yours?"

"Yes, just for fun."

"What did they tell you?"

"Oh, just foolishness."

"Come, tell _me_ just for fun."

"Well,"--here she blushed--"the old gypsy told me that an Englishman would woo me, that I'd not know my own mind, and that I would reject him."

"Interesting! Go on."

"That something dreadful would happen to the suitor; that I'd help take care of him, and after that, all was cloudland."

"Really, this grows more interesting. The fortune teller realized how hard-hearted you were. Didn't she ask you to join their caravan? You'd make an ideal gypsy princess."

Esther touched her horse with her whip. He gave a sudden lunge, and sped onward like mad. It was all she could do to sit her horse. Before her, to her dismay, yawned a deep gulch. She could not stop her horse now, of that she was sure. She tightened her grip, and waited. She heard the sound of hoofs behind her, and Kenneth's voice shouting "Whoa!" As well shriek at a tornado to stop. She seemed to catch the spirit of the horse. The pupils of her eyes dilated. She felt the quivering of the beast when, for a moment, he reared on his haunches.

Then she felt herself borne through the air, as the animal took the gulch; then she knew that he was struggling up the bank. In a moment the beast stopped, quivering all through his frame; his nostrils were dilated, and his breath came hard.

In a few minutes Kenneth Hastings overtook her. It was evident he had been alarmed.

"You have done a perilous thing for an inexperienced rider," he said.

"It is dumb luck that you have escaped unhurt. I expected to find you injured or dead."

"I was dreadfully scared when we came to the gulch. I didn't know about it, you know; but I couldn't stop the horse then."