Starr, of the Desert Page 15

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HELEN MAY UNDERSTANDS

  Pat, lying at her feet and licking his lips contentedly after his boneand the crusts of her sandwich, raised his head suddenly and rumbled agrowl somewhere deep in his chest. His upper lip lifted and showed histeeth wickedly, and the hair on the back of his neck stood out in a ruffthat made him look a different dog.

  Helen May felt a cold shiver all up and down her spine. She had neverseen Pat, nor any other dog for that matter, look like that. It was muchmore terrifying than that mysterious shot which had effected Starr sostrangely. Pat was staring directly behind her, and his eyes had agreenish tinge in the iris, and the white part was all pink andbloodshot. Helen May thought he must have rabies or something; or else arabid coyote was up on the ridge behind her. She wanted to scream, butshe was afraid; she was afraid to look behind her, even.

  Pat got up and stood digging his toe nails into the earth in the mosthorribly suggestive way imaginable. The green light in his eyesterrified her. His ruff bristled bigger on his neck. He looked ready tospring at something. Helen May was too scared to move so much as afinger. She waited, and her heart began beating so hard in her throatthat it nearly suffocated her. She never once thought of the six-shooterwhich Starr had given her. She did not think of anything, except that arabid coyote was right behind her, and in a minute Pat would jump at it,if it did not first jump at her! And then Pat would be bitten, and wouldgo mad and bite her and Vic, and they'd all die horribly of hydrophobia.

  "Ah--is this a modern, dramatic version of Beauty and the Beast? If so,it is a masterpiece in depicting perfect repose on the part of Beauty,while the Beast vivifies the protective instinct of the stronger towardthe weaker. Speaking in the common parlance, if you will call off yourdog, Miss Stevenson, I might be persuaded to venture within hand-shakingdistance." A little laugh, that was much more humorous than the words,followed the speech.

  Helen May felt as though she were going to faint. "Pat!" she tried to sayadmonishingly; but her voice was a weak whisper that did not carry tenfeet. She pulled herself together and tried again. "Pat, lie down!"

  Pat turned his bead a trifle and sent her a tolerant glance, but thehair did not lie down on his neck, and the growl did not cease to rumblein his throat.

  "Pat!" Helen May began to recover a little from the reaction. "Come hereto me! I--don't think he'll bite you, Mr. Sommers. It's--it's onlyMexicans that he's supposed to hate. I--I didn't know it was you."

  Holman Sommers, being careful to keep a safe distance between himself andPat, came around to where he could see her face. "As a matter of fact,"he began, "it's really my sister who came to visit you. Your brotherinformed us that you were out here, and I came to tell you. Why, did Ifrighten you so badly, Miss Stevenson? Your face is absolutely colorless.What did I do to so terrify you? I surely never intended--" His eyes wereremorseful as he stood and looked at her.

  "It was just the way Pat acted. I--I'd been hearing about rabid coyotes,and I thought one was behind me, Pat acted so queer. Lie down, Pat!"

  Holman Sommers spoke to the dog ingratiatingly, but Pat did not exhibitany tail-wagging desire for friendly acquaintance. He slunk over toHelen May and flattened himself on his belly with his nose on his paws,and his eyes, that still showed greenish lights and bloodshot whites,fixed on the man.

  "It may be," said Sommers judgmatically, "that he has been taught toresent strangers coming in close proximity to the animals he has incharge. A great many dogs are so trained, and are therefore in no wise toblame for exhibiting a certain degree of ferocity. The canine mind iswholly lacking in the power of deduction, its intelligence consistingrather of a highly developed instinctive faculty for retainingimpressions which invariably express themselves in some concrete formsuch as hate, fear, joy, affection and like primitive emotions. Pat, forinstance, has been taught to regard strangers as interlopers. Hetherefore resents the presence of all strangers, and has no mentalfaculty for distinguishing between strangers, as such, and actualintruders whose presence is essentially undesirable."

  Helen May gave a little, half-hysterical laugh, and Holman Sommers lookedat her keenly, as a doctor sometimes looks at a patient.

  "I am intensely sorry that my coming frightened you," he said gently.Then he laughed. "I am also deeply humiliated at the idea of beingmistaken, in the broad light of midday, for a rabid coyote. May I askjust wherein lies the resemblance?"

  Helen May looked at him, saw the dancing light in his eyes and a mirthfulquirk of his lips, and blushed while she smiled.

  "It's just that I happened to be thinking about them," she said,instinctively belittling her fear. "And then I never saw Pat act the wayhe's acting now."

  Holman Sommers regarded the dog with the same keen, studying look he hadgiven Helen May. Pat did not take it as calmly, however, as Helen May haddone. Pat lifted his upper lip again and snarled with an extremelyconcrete depiction of the primitive emotion, hate.

  "There _are_ such things as rabid coyotes, aren't there? Just--do youknow how they act, and how a person could tell when something has caughtthe disease from them?"

  "I think I may safely assert that there undoubtedly are rabid coyotes inthe country. As a matter of fact, and speaking relatively, they havebeen, and probably still are, somewhat of a menace to stock runningabroad without a herder amply provided with the means of protecting hischarge. At the same time I may point with pardonable pride to theconcerted action of both State and Stock Association to rid the countryof these pests. So far we feel highly gratified at the success which hasattended our efforts. I gravely doubt whether you would now find, in thiswhole county, a single case of infection. But on the other hand, I couldnot, of course, venture to state unqualifiedly that there may not becertain isolated cases--"

  "Pat! Do stop that growling! What ails you, anyway? I never saw him actthat way before. I wonder if he could possibly be--" She looked atSommers questioningly.

  "Infected?" he finished for her understandingly. "As a matter of fact,that may be possible, though I should not consider it altogetherprobable. Since the period of incubation varies from three weeks to sixmonths, as in man, the dog may possibly have been infected before cominginto your possession. If that were true, you would have no means ofdiscovering the fact until he exhibits certain premonitory symptoms,which may or may not form in themselves conclusive evidence of thepresence of the disease."

  Helen May got up from the rock and moved away, eyeing Pat suspiciously.Pat got up and followed her, keeping a watchful eye on Sommers.

  "What are the symptoms, for gracious sake?" she demanded fretfully,worried beyond caring how she chose her words for Holman Sommers. "Hiseyes look queer, don't you think?"

  "Since you ask me, and since the subject is not one to be dismissedlightly, I will say that I have been studying the dog's attitude withsome slight measure of concern," Holman Sommers admitted guardedly. "Thesuffused eyeball is sometimes found in the premonitory stage of thedisease, after incubation has progressed to a certain degree. Alsoirritability, nervousness, and depression are apt to be present. Has thedog exhibited any tendency toward sluggishness, Miss Stevenson?"

  "Well, he's been lying around most of the time to-day," Helen Mayconfessed, staring at Pat apprehensively. "Of course, there hasn't beenanything much for him to do. But he certainly does act queer, just sinceyou came."

  Holman Sommers spoke with the prim decision of a teacher instructing aclass, but that seemed to be only his way, and Helen May was growing usedto it. "His evidencing a tendency toward sluggishness to-day, and hissubsequent irritability, may or may not be significant of an abnormality.If, however, the dog progresses to the stage of hyperaesthesia, and themuscles of deglutition become extremely rigid, so that he cannot swallow,convulsions will certainly follow. There will also appear in the mouthand throat a secretion of thick, viscid mucus, with thickened saliva,which will be an undubitable proof of rabies."

  Having thus innocently damned poor Pat with the suspicion of a dreadfulma
lady, Sommers made a scientific attempt to soothe Helen May's fears.He advised, with many words and much kind intent, that Pat be muzzleduntil the "hyperaesthesia" did or did not develop. Helen May thought thatthe terribly-termed symptoms might develop before they could get a muzzlefrom town, but she did not like to say so.

  Partly to be hospitable, and partly to get away from Pat, she mounted thepinto, told Pat to watch the goats, and rode down to the house to seeMartha Sommers. She did not anticipate any pleasure in the visit, much asshe had longed for the sound of a woman's voice. She was really worriedhalf to death over Starr, and the rabies, and Pat, and the naggingconsciousness that she had not accomplished as much copying of manuscriptas Holman Sommers probably expected.

  She did not hear half of what Sommers was saying on the way to the cabin.His very amiability jarred upon her nervous depression. She had alwaysliked him, and respected his vast learning, but to-day she certainly didnot get much comfort out of his converse. She wondered why she had beenso light-hearted while Starr was with her showing her how to shoot, andlecturing her about the danger of going gunless abroad; and why she wasso perfectly dejected when Holman Sommers talked to her about the verysame thing. Starr had certainly painted things blacker than Holman haddone, but it did not seem to have the same effect.

  "I don't see what we're going to do for a muzzle," she launched suddenlyinto the middle of Holman Sommers' scientific explanation of mirages.

  "Vic can undoubtedly construct one out of an old strap," Holman Sommersretorted impatiently, and went on discoursing about refraction andreflection and the like.

  Helen May tried to follow him, and gave it up. When they werealmost to the spring she again unwittingly jarred Holman Sommersout of his subject.

  "Did all those words you used mean that Pat will foam at the mouth likemad dogs you read about?" she asked abruptly.

  Holman Sommers, tramping along beside the pinto, looked at her queerly."If Pat does not, I strongly suspect that I shall," he told herweightily, but with a twinkle in his eyes. "I have been endeavoring, MissStevenson, to wean your thoughts away from so unhappy a subject. Whypermit yourself to be worried? The thing will happen, or it will nothappen. If it does happen, you will be powerless to prevent. If it doesnot, you will have been anxious over a chimera of the imagination."

  "Chimera of the imagination is a good line," laughed Helen Mayflippantly. "All the same, if Pat is going to gallop all over thescenery, foaming at the mouth and throwing fits at the sight of water--"

  "As a matter of fact," Holman Sommers was beginning again in his mostinstructive tone, when a whoop from the spring interrupted him.

  Vic had hobbled obligingly down there to get cool water for the plumplady who was Holman Sommers' sister, and he had nearly stepped on asleepy rattler stretched out in the sun. Vic was making a collection ofrattles. He had one set, so far, of five rattles and a "button." Hewanted to get these which were buzzing stridently enough for threesnakes, it seemed to Vic. He was hopping around on his good foot andthrowing rocks; and the snake, having retreated to a small heap of loosecobblestones, was thrusting his head out in vicious little strikinggestures, and keeping the scaly length of him bidden.

  "Wait a minute, I'll get him, Vic," called Helen May, suddenly anxious toshow off her newly acquired skill with firearms. Starr had told her thatlots of people killed rattlesnakes by shooting their heads off. Shewanted to try it, anyway, and show Vic a thing or two. So she rode up asclose as she dared, though the pinto shied away from the ominous sound;pulled her pearl-handled six-shooter from its holster, aimed, and firedat the snake's head.

  You have heard, no doubt, of "fool's luck." Helen May actually tore thewhole top off that rattlesnake's head (though I may as well say righthere that she never succeeded in shooting another snake) and rodenonchalantly on to the cabin as though she had done nothing at allunusual, but smiling to herself at Vic's slack-jawed amazement at seeingher on horseback, with a gun and such uncanny skill in the use of it.

  She felt better after that, and she rather enjoyed the plump sister ofHolman Sommers. The plump sister called him Holly, and seemed to beinordinately proud of his learning and inordinately fond of nagging athim over little things. She was what Helen May called a vegetable type ofwoman. She did not seem to have any great emotions in her make-up. Shesat in the one rocking-chair under the mesquite tree and crocheted laceand talked comfortably about Holly and her chickens in the same breath,and frankly admired Helen May's "spunk" in living out alone like that.

  "Don't overlook Vic, though," Helen May put in generously. "I honestlydon't believe I could stand it without Vic."

  The plump sister seemed unimpressed. "In this country," she said with acertain snug positiveness that was the keynote of her personality, "it'sthe women that have the courage. They wouldn't be here if they didn'thave. Think how close we are to the Mexican border, for instance.Anything that is horrible to woman can come out of Mexico. Not that Ilook down on them over there," she added, with a complacent tolerance inher tone. "They are victims of the System that has kept them degraded andignorant. But until they are lifted up and educated and raised to ourstandards they are bad.

  "You can't get around it, Holly, those ignorant Mexicans are _bad_!" Shehad lifted her eyes accusingly to where Holman Sommers sat on the groundwith his knees drawn up and his old Panama hat hung upon them. He wassmoking a pipe, and he did not remove it from his mouth; but Helen Maysaw that amused quirk of the lips just the same.

  "You can't get around it. You know it as well as I do," she reiterated."Cannibals are worth saving, but before they are saved they are liable toeat the missionary. And it's the same thing with your Mexicans. You wantto educate them and raise them to your standards, and that's all right asfar as it goes. But in the meantime they're bad. And if Miss Stevensonwasn't such a good shot, I wouldn't be able to sleep nights, thinking ofher living up here alone, with just a boy for protection."

  "Why, I never heard of such a thing as any danger from Mexicans!" HelenMay looked inquiringly from plump sister to cynical brother.

  "Well, you needn't wonder at Holly not telling you," said the plumpsister,--her name was Maggie. "Holly's a fool about some things. Hollyis trying the Uplift, and he shuts his eyes to things that don't fit inwith his theories. If you've copied much of that stuff he's beenwriting, you ought to know how impractical he is. Holly's got his headin the clouds, and he won't look at what's right under his feet." Againshe looked reproof at Holly, and again Holly's lips quirked around thestem end of his pipe.

  "You just keep your eyes open, Miss Stevenson," she admonished, in apurring, comfortable voice. "I ain't afraid, myself, because I've gotHolly and my cousin Todd, when he's at home. And besides, Holly's alwaysdoing missionary stunts, and the Mexicans like him because he'll let themrob him right and left and come back and take what they forgot the firsttime, and Holly won't do a thing to them. But you don't want to take anychances, away off here like you are. You lock your door good at night,and you sleep with a gun under your pillow. And don't go off anywherealone. My, even with a gun you ain't any too safe!"

  Helen May gave a gasp. But Holman Sommers laughed outright--an easy,chuckling laugh that partly reassured her. "Danger is Maggie's favoritejoke," he said tolerantly. "As a matter of fact, and speaking from aclose, personal knowledge of the people hereabouts, I can assure you,Miss Stevenson, that you are in no danger whatever from the source mysister indicates."

  "Well, but Holly, I've said it, and I'll say it again; you can't tell_what_ may come up out of Mexico." Plump Maggie rolled up her lace andjabbed the ball decisively with the crochet hook, "We'll have to go now,or the chickens will be wondering where their supper is coming from. Youdo what I say, and lock your doors at night, and have your gun handy,Miss Stevenson. Things may look calm enough on the surface, but theyain't, I can tell you that!"

  "Woman, cease!" cried Holly banteringly, while he dusted his baggytrousers with his palms. "Miss Stevenson will be haunted by nightmares ifyou keep on."

>   Once they were gone, Helen May surrendered weakly to one fear, to theextent that she let Vic take the carbine and the pinto and ride over towhere she had left Pat and the goats, for the simple reason that shedreaded to face alone that much maligned dog. Vic, to be sure, would havequarreled with her if necessary, to get a ride on the pinto, and he was agood deal astonished at Helen May's sweet consideration of a boy'shunger for a horse. But she tempered his joy a bit by urging him to keepan eye on Pat, who had been acting very queer.

  "He kept ruining up his back and showing his teeth at Mr. Sommers," sheexplained nervously. "If he does it when you go, Vic, and if he foams atthe mouth, you'd better shoot him before he bites something. If a mad dogbites you, you'll get hydrophobia, and bark and growl like a dog, andhave fits and die."

  "G-oo-d _night_!" Vic ejaculated fervently, and went loping awkwardlydown the trail past the spring.

  That left Helen May alone and free to think about the horrors that mightcome up out of Mexico, and about the ignorant Mexicans who, until theyare uplifted, are bad. It seemed strange that, if this were true, Starrhad never mentioned the danger. And yet--

  "I'll bet anything that's just what Starr-of-the-Desert did mean!" sheexclaimed aloud, her eyes fixed intently on the toes of her scuffedboots. "He just didn't want to scare me too much and make me suspiciousof everybody that came along, and so he talked mad coyotes at me. But itwas Mexicans he meant; I'll bet anything it was!"

  If that was what Starr meant, then the shot from the pinnacle, andStarr's crafty, Indian-like method of getting away unseen, took on anew and sinister meaning. Helen May shivered at the thought of Starrriding away in search of the man who had tried to kill him, and of therisk he must be taking. And what if the fellow came back, sneaking backin the dark, and tried to get in the house, or something? It surely waslucky that Starr-of-the-Desert had just happened to bring those guns.

  But had he just _happened_ to bring them? Helen May was not stupid, evenif she were ignorant of certain things she ought to know, living outalone in the wild. She began to see very clearly just what Starr hadmeant; just how far he had _happened_ to have extra guns in his shack,and had just _happened_ to get hold of a horse that she and Vic coulduse; and the dog, too, that hated Mexicans!

  "That's why he hates to have me stay on the claim!" she deduced at last."Only he just wouldn't tell me right out that it isn't safe. That's whathe meant by asking if dad knew the chances I'd have to take. Well, daddidn't know, but after the price dad paid, why--I've got to stay, andmake good. There's no sense in being a coward about it. Starr wouldn'twant me to be a coward. He's just scheming around to make it as safe ashe can, without making me cowardly."

  A slow, half-tender smile lit her chestnut-tinted eyes, and tilted herlips at the corners. "Oh, you desert man o' mine, I see through younow!" she said under her breath, and kept on smiling afterwards, sincethere was not a soul near to guess her thoughts. "Desert man o' mine"was going pretty strong, if you stop to think of it; but Helen May wouldhave died--would have lied--would have gone to any lengths to keep Starrfrom guessing she had ever thought such a thing about him. That was thewoman of her.

  The woman of her it was too that kept her dwelling pleasedly on Starr'sshy, protective regard for her, instead of watching the peaks in fear andtrembling lest another bad, un-uplifted Mexican should be watching achance to send another bullet zipping down into the Basin on its missionof wanton wickedness.