The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista. Altsheler Joseph Alexander

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СКАЧАТЬ isreal, and the air is so good that one might even bite achip with a certain pleasure. Excuse me, Sir Philip ofthe Forest, while I even drain the coffee-cup."

      He took it all down at one draught, and a beatificglow overspread his face. Arenberg regarded him withadmiration.

      "Ach, Mein Herr Breakstone, but you are one cheerfulman!" he said. "You never do any harm, becausenone iss meant. When you drink the coffee you makeme think of the German in the old country drinking beer, and you like it as well."

      "I snatch the joys of the flying day, or, rather, night, and think not of the ills of the morrow," repliedBreakstone. "Somebody somewhere said something like that, and, whoever he was, he was a good talker. To-morrow,Phil, I think I may get a chance to show you how toshoot a deer."

      "I hope so," said Phil eagerly. He, too, was luxuriating, and he was fully as cheerful as Bill Breakstone.The great beds of coal threw a warm, luminous glow overall the circle enveloped by the wagons. Everybody ateand felt good. The pleasant hum of pleasant talk arose.Outside the wagons the tethered horses cropped the shortyoung grass, and they, too, were content. Not far awaythe forest of magnolia, poplar, and many kinds of oakrustled before the slight wind, and the note that camefrom it was also of content.

      Phil, after he had eaten and drunk all that he wished, and it was much, lay on the ground with his back againstthe log and listened to the talk. He heard wonderfultales of adventure in the West Indies and on the SouthAmerican coast, of fights in Mexico and Texas, when thelittle bands of Texans won their independence, ofencounters with raiding Comanches, and of strange stone ruinsleft by vanished races in the deserts of the Far West.He was fascinated as he listened. The spirit of romancewas developed strongly within him. It was, indeed, amost adventurous search upon which he was embarked, and this spirit, strong, enduring, hardened to meet allthings, was what he needed most.

      As the fires died down, and the warmth decreased, hewrapped his blanket around himself, and now and thendozed a little. But he still felt very content. It seemedto him that it was uncommon fortune to have joinedsuch an expedition, and it was a good omen. He mustsucceed in his great search.

      "Well, Sir Roland, what is it?" said Bill Breakstoneat last. "Do you want to sleep in the wagon or on theground here? The good Knight Orlando, who for thepresent is myself, means to choose the ground."

      "No stuffy wagon for me on a night like this," rejoinedPhil sleepily. "I am going to sleep just where I lie."

      He settled back more comfortably, put his arm underhis head, and in a few moments was in the deep, dreamlesssleep of youth and health. Bill Breakstone quicklyfollowed him to that pleasant land of Nowhere. ThenArenberg and the Captain were soon entering the sameregion. The fires sank lower and lower, the sound ofbreathing from many men arose, the horses outsidebecame quiet, and peace settled over the wildernesscamp.

      Phil slept far into the night, he never knew how far, but he believed it was about half way between midnightand morning. When he awoke it was very dark, andthere was no noise but that of the breathing men and therustling wind. Just why he, a sound sleeper, hadawakened at that time he could not say. But he had eatenlargely, and he was conscious of thirst, a thirst thatcould be quenched easily at a little spring in the wood.

      The boy rose, letting his blanket drop to the ground, and glanced over the sleeping camp. Despite thedarkness, he saw the forms of recumbent men, and some coalsthat yet glimmered faintly. Around them was the darkcircling line of the wagons. No regular watch was keptas they were yet far from dangerous country, and, passingbetween two of the wagons, Phil went toward the spring, which was about three hundred yards away.

      It was a nice cold spring, rising at the base of a rock, and running away in a tiny stream among the poplars.Phil knelt and drank, and then sat upon an upthrustroot. The desire for sleep had left him, and his mindturned upon his great search. He took the paper from theinside pocket of his coat, unfolded it, and smoothed itout with his fingers. It was too dark for him to read it, but he held it there a little while, then folded it upagain, and returned it to its resting place. He wasabout to rise again and return to the camp, butsomething moved in the thicket. It might have been a lizard,or it might have been the wind, but he was sure it wasneither. The sound was wholly out of harmony with thenote of the night.

      Phil remained sitting on the upthrust root, but leanedagainst the trunk to which the root belonged. His figureblended darkly against the bark. Only an eye ofuncommon acuteness would note him. The slight stirring, somuch out of tune with all the wilderness noises, cameagain, and, despite his strength and will, both of whichwere great, Phil felt ice pass along his spine, and hishair rose slightly. That uncanny hour at which evildeeds happen held him in its spell. But he did not move, except for the slipping of his hand to the pistol in hisbelt, and he waited.

      Slowly a dark face formed itself in the bushes, andbeneath it was the faint outline of a human figure. Theface was malignant and cruel, a reddish copper in color, with a sharp, strong chin, high cheek-bones, and blackglowing eyes. These eyes were bent in a fierce gaze uponthe circle of wagons. They did not turn in Phil'sdirection at all, but the face held him fascinated.

      It seemed to Phil that he had seen that countenancebefore, and as he gazed he remembered. It was surelythat of Black Panther, the Comanche, but what astartling change. The crouching, fuddled lump of a man intattered clothes, whom he had seen in New Orleans, hadbeen transformed when the breath of the wildernesspoured into his lungs. He fitted thoroughly into thisdark and weird scene, and the hair on Phil's head rosea little more. Then the head, and the figure with it, suddenly melted away and were gone. There was nostrange stirring in the thicket, nothing that was not inaccord with the night.

      The ice left Phil's spine, the hair lay down peacefullyonce more on his head, and his hand moved away fromthe pistol at his belt. It was like a dream in the dark, the sudden appearance of that Medusa head in the bushes, and he was impressed with all the weight of convictionthat it was an omen of bad days to come. The windwhispered it, and the quiver in his blood answered. Butthe men in the train might laugh at him if he told thathe had merely seen an Indian's face in the bushes. Thething itself would be slight enough in the telling, and hedid not wish to be ridiculed as a boy whose fears hadpainted a picture of that which was not. But he walkedwarily back, and he was glad enough when he repassedbetween two of the wagons, and resumed his old place.Middleton, Arenberg, and Bill Breakstone all sleptsoundly, and Phil, wrapped in his blanket, sought toimitate them. But he could not. He lay there thinkinguntil the low band of scarlet in the east foreshadowed theday. He rose and looked once more over the camp. Thelast coal had died, and the dark forms, wrapped in theirblankets, looked chill and cold. But the red dawn wasadvancing, and warmth came with it. One by one themen awoke. The horses stirred. Phil stood up andstretched his arms. Middleton, Bill Breakstone, andArenberg awoke. They had slept soundly and pleasantlyall through the night.

      "'Tis a fine couch, this Mother Earth," said BillBreakstone, "finer than cloth of gold, if it be not rainingor snowing, or the winds be not nipping. Then, in suchevent, I should take the cloth of gold, with a snug tentover it."

      "I have slept well, and I awake strong and refreshed,"said Arenberg simply. "It iss all I ask of a night."

      "I have not slept well," said Phil, "at least I didnot during the latter part of the night."

      There was a certain significance in his tone, and theothers looked at him. Only they were near, and Philsaid in a low tone:

      "I awoke in the night, and I was restless. I walkeddown to the spring for a drink, and I saw a face in thebushes, the face of a man who was watching us."

      "Ah!" said Middleton, a single monosyllable, longdrawn. But his tone expressed interest, not surprise.He looked at the boy as if he expected to hear more.

      "I saw the face clearly," continued Phil. "It waschanged, wonderfully changed in expression, but I knewit. I could not be mistaken. СКАЧАТЬ