The San Rosario Ranch
Millicent thought him decidedly the most attractive of their hosts; but
her quick intuition had already told her that Graham felt little
cordiality towards him, and she spoke chiefly to Hartley, the rather
insignificant "beauty man" of the camp. From him she learned that for
several years the trio of friends had passed the summer months in
camping out at some spot not far distant from the railroad, which
carried them every morning to San Francisco, and which brought them back
as early in the afternoon as might be. Their one henchman (of course a
Chinaman) was left in charge of the camp during the day, and performed
the household work necessary to so primitive a _menage_. Not far
distant from the camp, the stream whose course they had followed spread
out into a wide, deep pool, affording an opportunity for a refreshing
plunge, with which the three friends were wont to begin the proceedings
of the day. A breakfast eaten at the tent door was followed by a walk
to the station, half a mile distant, when they bade good-by to their
sylvan home. Four o'clock, or at latest five, saw them on their way
from the city; and an hour or two of angling in the cool stream, wherein
swam delicious trout, or a tramp through the woods with a gun, brought
them to the dinner hour. Just at this point in Hartley's chronicle of
their daily life, Ah Lam, who had been brought to assist the one servant
of the camp in his preparations, announced that dinner was served.
Millicent never learned how the evenings were passed in camp, for there
was a general move towards the dining-room, another triumph of sylvan
architecture. A few paces distant from the green parlor, but hidden
from it by the thick intervening bushes, was a great fig-tree with
wide-spreading branches laden with delicious purple fruit. At the foot
of the tree stood a table laid with plates, knives and forks, and other
appurtenances of civilized life. Millicent gave a little cry of delight
at the prettily decorated board, which was wreathed with a garland of
green leaves and covered with bright flowers. Barbara, who had been
reading Dumas with that intense delight to which the first acquaintance
with French romance gives rise, said that the banquet surpassed the one
spread by Joseph Bassano for the Dauphine of France in the old Chateau.
Millicent found herself at the table between Graham and the good-natured
Irishman, O'Neil. Her lover seemed to her handsomer to-day among this
band of his contemporaries than ever before; and she looked at him with
her whole soul in her eyes, forgetting all in the world beside or beyond
him. O'Neil, who was the wit of the camp, told funny stories at which
every one laughed; but when Graham spoke, the men all listened, like
soldiers waiting the words of their superior. Before they had come to
the table, the artist had twined a girdle for Millicent's slender waist
of some feathery green creeper, a spray of which she had wreathed about
her head. When the red wine was poured, Graham spilled from his glass,
as if by accident, a few drops upon the earth, then, touching his goblet
to hers, he said in an undertone,--
"We will drink the old toast, my nymph, to Pan, _evoe, evoe_!"
Galbraith devoted himself to Barbara; and after dinner, when all justice
had been done to the woodland fare, and the great warm figs had been
eaten with the sunshine in them, the party broke up into groups.
Graham, who had brought his colors, made a sketch of the view from the
hilltops, Millicent sitting silently beside him, handing him the brushes
as he required them, then squeezing the little tubes of paint with a
childish delight. Barbara and Galbraith made their way to the pool,
where Miss Deering angled successfully, landing four good-sized trout
within the hour. Hal Deering and O'Neil employed the time in firing at
an ace of hearts pinned to a tree; while Hartley and Mrs. Deering sat in
the green parlor, where the thoughtful, motherly woman put a very
necessary patch on one of Galbraith's coats, in which her quick glance
had descried a rent, as it hung on a peg in his tent.
As the afternoon shadows lengthened, and his sketch drew near its
completion, Graham found time occasionally to speak to his companion
sitting so quietly and contentedly at his side. The absolute ignoring
of self possible to this intelligent girl, with her strong mind and
latent talents, was incomprehensible to him. She was perfectly happy to
forget her individual existence in a sympathetic interest in his work.
He felt sure that should it please him she would give up her music, her
studies, every other interest in life and be content to sit always as
now, watching his work, giving a word of intelligent criticism when
asked to do so, stifling every thought which should cloud the mirror of
her mind in which he might see himself ever reflected. To the sensitive
man, who had passed most of his life in solitude, this absolute,
unreasoning devotion had something intensely painful about it. If he
had known how to frame his thought he would have begged her to care less
for him. He felt himself an ingrate, so poor a return could he make for
this wealth of love poured out at his feet. Her presence was a pleasure
to him; he loved to watch her graceful motions as she walked, and the
beautiful poses which she all unconsciously took in sitting, standing,
or moving. Her appreciation of his work, her understanding of himself,
were truer than ever man or woman had shown before; and yet he sometimes
was annoyed by the irksome feeling that what he had to give her was but
a bankrupt's portion of love. Times there were when this feeling did
not intrude itself upon him; and the day which was now drawing to its
close was one of those precious ones wherein had been no slightest
misunderstanding betwixt them. When Hal came to tell them that it was
time to return, Graham put up his work with a sigh that it must be so
soon finished, and the two lovers lingered for a moment, taking a last
look over the little camp.
After bidding their hosts farewell the guests turned their horses toward
home, the larger wagon with Mrs. Deering and Barbara leading the way.
Sphinx, whose best days were over, was tired; and Millicent soon lost
sight of the swift mule team. Graham rode a little in advance of the
carriage, leaving the place at Millicent's side to Mr. Galbraith, who
had volunteered to accompany them for a part of the journey. She found
him a most attractive person, and was much interested in his
conversation. He told her anecdotes of the primitive justice which
prevailed in certain remote districts of the State, and gave some
personal reminiscences of his earliest cases, in which he had been
called upon to defend or accuse criminals of the most desperate class.
Galbraith talked with that sort of brilliancy which requires sympathetic
attention from his hearers, and for the first three miles of the road he
was able to win this from Miss Almsford. When, however, the girl's eyes
wandered from his intelligent face to the man on horseback half a dozen
rods in advance, and she mentally compared the strong, elastic figure of
the distant horseman to the man at her side, Galbraith found that it was
time to return to the camp and "leave them to their own fate."
Millicent's parting words were doubly gracious to the young lawyer, from
the fact that she thought his departure would bring her lover to her.
In this hope she was however disappointed, for Graham was in one of
those moods when silence was more attractive to him than Hal's amusing
companionship. He would have liked to have Millicent all to himself on
that pleasant homeward ride; but Millicent with the inevitable addition
of Deering could not win him to her side. Suddenly the two in the
carriage saw Graham's horse give a wild rear and plunge, after which he
shied at some unseen object by the roadside with a force which would
have unseated any ordinary horseman. The animal now stood for an
instant trembling in every limb, and then seemed to fling himself and
his rider in a perfect agony of terror down the high-road, his four feet
beating out the startling measure of a break-neck gallop to Millicent's
horrified ears. From the cloud of dust, and through the cadence of the
mustang's hoofs, these words were shouted back to them,--
"Look out for rattlesnakes!"
They had by this time reached the spot where Graham's horse had taken
fright; and old Sphinx shivered violently, tossing his head and snorting
loudly. In a few moments, it seemed to Millicent an eternity, Graham
rejoined them, having regained control over his fiery horse.
"Deering, stand by Sphinx's head and hold my horse, will you?"
As he spoke John Graham dismounted, pulled his high boots over his
knees, and seizing the heavy whip from the carriage, advanced cautiously
to the edge of the road, while Hal soothed the startled horses.
Millicent, left alone in the wagon, gave a low cry of terror. Graham
was at her side in an instant.
"Dear one, you must help me with your courage; do not be afraid, there
is really no danger," he murmured. She was silent, and tried to smile
an answer.
Graham now walked slowly along the road, looking intently into the grass
which lined the highway. Suddenly the dread sound of the rattle was
heard, awful alike to man and beast. Sphinx started again, but was soon
quieted, while Tasso reared and gave a shriek of terror. Graham, raising
his heavy whip, brought the thong with a tremendous force across the
snake's body. The creature reared itself with blazing eyes and sprang
towards its pursuer, who dealt it another blow; and before it could coil
itself for a second spring, Graham ran forward, and with his iron
boot-heel crushed the reptile's head into the dust. He soon despatched
the writhing creature, and was stooping to cut the rattles from its
lifeless body, when a warning cry from Millicent told him that the
battle was not over. The mate of the dead snake was close beside him,
ready to spring upon his stooping body. He straightened himself, and
ran backwards, firing his revolver as he went. The shot missed the
snake, whose rattle rang out a very death-knell. It leaped savagely
towards him. Graham had dropped his whip, most efficient of weapons
with which to meet these dangerous animals, and hastily tearing off his
coat he threw it over the snake. He sprang upon the garment and stamped
in every direction; finally pinning the creature low down in the body,
the bristled head, with its awful tongue, reared itself from beneath the
folds of the coat, wounded but furious to avenge its mate. The horrible
hiss chilled Millicent's blood. She saw the forked tongue dart out and
strike Graham's leg. Mercifully it struck below the knee, the fang
failing to penetrate the thick leather of the boot. The creature
wreathed another coil of its length from beneath the iron heel, and
again made ready to strike. Graham cocked his revolver, and while the
angry red throat, with its death-dealing jaws, yawned before him, he
poured a volley of hot lead into the writhing body. One, two, three
shots Millicent counted; and then after a pause Graham's voice rang out
brisk and clear: "All right, my girl, if there are no more of the
beasts." The still quivering bodies of the snakes lay in the dust of
the road, and Graham, recovering his whip, carefully examined the
locality from which they had emerged, to see if by chance a nest of eggs
or young ones was to be found. His search was unsuccessful; and after
securing the second rattle, which was a long one, proving how powerful
the reptile had been, he measured the bodies of the dead snakes, and
rejoined Millicent. She held out her hand to him; and Deering, who had