The Sun Maid Part 28

Gaspar's face had paled at the mention of the Sun Maid to such a grayness beneath its brown that Mercy reached her hand to stay him from falling; but at his second question her womanly intuition told her something of the truth.

"Yes, Gaspar, boy. Your Kitty, and ours. We hadn't seen her till to-day, neither; not since that harvestin'. But the longing got too strong and, when we was burnt out, we came straight for her. Didn't you know she was here yet? Or didn't you know she was still alive?"

"No. No, I didn't. That very next winter after I went away--and that was the next day after we came here together--an Indian pa.s.sed where I was hunting with my master and told me she had died. He was one we had known at Muck-otey-pokee--the White Pelican. He said a scourge of smallpox had swept the Fort and this settlement and that my little maid had pa.s.sed out of the world forever. But you tell me--_she is alive_? After all these years of sorrow for her, she is still alive?

I--it is hard to believe it."

Mercy laid her hand upon the strong shoulder that now trembled in excitement.

"There, there, son; take it quiet. Yes, she's alive, and the most beautiful woman the good Lord ever made. Never, even in the East, where girls had time to grow good-looking, was there ever anybody like her. I ain't used to it myself, yet. I can't realize it. She's that well growed, and eddicated, and masterful. Why, child, the whole community looks up to her as if she were a sort of queen. I've found that out in just the few hours I've been here, and from just the few I've met. Even Wahneeny--she's here, too; has been most all the time.

The Black Partridge, Indian chief, he that was her brother, that took care of you two children when the ma.s.sacre was, he didn't expect she'd ever come again; but still, it appears, just on the chance of it, he rode off up country somewhere, and he happened to strike her trail, and that Osceolo's--the scamp--that had run off with Kitty's white horse, and fetched 'em all back. The women in the Fort was tellin' me the whole story just now. I hain't got a word out of Wahneeny, yet.

She's as close-mouthed as she ever was; but there's more to hear than you could hark to in a day's ride, and--Where you going, Gaspar?"

"To find my Kitty."

"Well, you needn't. And I don't know as she's any more yours than she is ours, seein' we really had the credit of raisin' her. For she's took her life in her hand, and has gone alone, without ary man to protect her, out across the prairie to face five hunderd Indians on the war-path, and--Hold on! What you up to?"

The sailor, or hunter, whichever he might be, had started along the footpath to the Fort, and halted, half angrily, at this interruption.

"Well? What? I'll see you by and by. I must find Kitty!"

"Right you are, lad. Find her, and fetch her back. And, say! Mercy says your own old Tempest horse is in the stable at the Fort; that it now belongs to the Sun Maid, and she's the only one who ever rides it.

The Captain gave it to her because she grieved so about you. I wouldn't wonder if he'd travel nigh as fast as he used--when he run away before. I never saw the beat of you two young ones! As fast as a body catches up to you, off you run!"

Even amid the anxiety now renewed in Abel's mind regarding Kitty, the humorous side of the situation appealed to him; but there was no answering smile on Gaspar's face; only an anxiety and yearning beyond the comprehension of either of these honest, simple souls.

"Well, go on, then. Run your beatingest, in a bee line, due west.

That's the way she took, and that's the trail you'll find her on, if so be you find her at all."

Those at the Fort looked, wondered, but did not object, as this dark _voyageur_ strode straight into the stables and to a box stall where Tempest enjoyed a life of pampered indolence. They realized that this was no stranger, but one to whom all things were familiar--even the animal which answered so promptly to the cry:

"Tempest, old fellow!"

It was a voice he had never forgotten. The black gelding's handsome head tossed in a thrill of delight, and the answering neigh to that love call was good to hear. In a moment Gaspar had found a saddle, slipped it into place, and, scarcely waiting to tighten its girth, had leaped upon the animal's back.

"Forward, Tempest! Be true to your name!"

Those who saw the rush of the gallant creature through the open gates of the stockade acknowledged that he would be.

CHAPTER XVIII.

WESTWARD AND EASTWARD OVER THE PRAIRIE.

"Fast, Tempest, fast!"

The suns.h.i.+ne was in his eyes, and a warmer suns.h.i.+ne in his heart, as Gaspar urged the gelding forward.

Fast it was. The faithful creature recognized the burden he carried, and his clean, small feet reeled off the distance like magic, till the village by the lake was left far behind, and only the limitless prairie stretched beyond. Yet still there was no sign of the s...o...b..rd along the horizon, nor any point discernible where an Indian encampment might be.

At length the rider paused to consider the matter.

"It's strange I don't see her. If she were crossing the level, anywhere, I should, for my eyes are trained to long distances. It must be that Abel gave me the wrong direction. I'll turn north, and try."

But, keen-sighted though he was, for once the woodsman blundered.

Between him and the lowering sun the prairie dipped and rose again, the two borders of the hidden valley seeming to meet in one unbroken plain. It was in this little depression that the wigwams were pitched, and among them the Sun Maid was already moving and pleading with her friends for patience and peace.

Meanwhile, Gaspar continued on his chosen route, at a direct right angle from that he should have followed, till the twilight came down and the whole landscape was swathed in mist. For there had been heavy rains of late, and the vapor rose from the soaked and sun-warmed earth like a great white pall, filling the hunter's nostrils and blinding his sight.

"Well, this is hopeless. I might ride over her and not find her in this fog. But I can't stay here. It's choking. Heaven grant my Kitty's safe under shelter somewhere. My own safety is to keep moving. Good boy, Tempest! Take it easy, but don't stop."

After that, there was nothing to do but trust the horse's instinct to find a path through the mist and to be grateful that the ground was so level.

"It's a long lane that has no turning. It must be that we'll strike something different after a while; if not a settler's house, at least a clump of trees. Any shelter would be better than none, in this creeping moisture. It would be easy to get lost; and what a situation!

Oh! if I knew that she was out of it. A messenger to the Indians, eh?

My little Kit, my dainty foster-sister!"

The gelding's nose was to the ground and, as a dog would have done, he picked his way, cautiously, yet surely, straight north where lay, though Gaspar did not know it, a settler's clearing and comfortable cabin. The rider's thoughts pa.s.sed from his present surroundings back to the past and forward to the future; and when there sounded, almost at his feet, a cry of distress he did not hear it in his absorption.

But Tempest did. At the second wail he stopped short, and it was this that roused Gaspar from his reverie.

"Tired, old Tempest, boy? It won't do to rest here. Take a breath, if you like, and get on again. Keeping at it is salvation."

"Mamma! I want--my--mamma!"

"Whew! What's that? h.e.l.lo!"

The sound was not repeated, and yet Tempest would not advance.

"h.e.l.lo!" shouted Gaspar; and after a moment of strained listening, again he caught the echo of a child's sob.

"My G.o.d! A baby--here! Lost in this fog!"

He was off his horse and down upon his knees, reaching, feeling, creeping--calling gently, and finally touching the cold, drenched garment of the child he could not see.

In its terror at this fresh danger the little one shrieked and rolled away; but the man lifted it tenderly, and soothed it with kind words till its shrieks ceased and it clung close to its rescuer.

"There, there, poor baby! How came you here? Don't be afraid. I'll take you home. Tempest will find the way. Feel--the good horse knows.

It was he that found you; we'll get on his back and ride straight to mamma, for whom you called."

Climbing slowly back into his saddle, because of the little one he held so carefully, Gaspar laid its cold hand upon the gelding's neck, but it slid listlessly aside and he realized that he had come not a moment too soon.

All night they wandered, the child lying on Gaspar's breast wrapped in his coat, while the mist penetrated his own clothing and seemed to creep into his very thoughts, numbing them to a sort of despair that no effort could cast off. The wail of the child lost in that dreariness had brought back, like a lightning's flash, the earliest memories of his life and revived his never-dying hatred of his parent's slayers.

"An Indian's hand was in this work!" he mused. "Doubtless, the mother for whom it grieved has met the fate which befell my own. And Abel said that it was among such as these my Sun Maid had gone!"