charmian did not begin sobbing until, standing at the edge of the grove that surrounded the ruins of the ancient village, she saw a tiny speck moving slowly up the narrow trail which zigzagged along the sides of the cliffs from the valley of arcana. the moving speck was dr. shonto, and he was leaving her alone in a vast wilderness, filled with doubts and dread and loneliness and grave forebodings. she sank to the ground, laid her arms on a fallen tree, and drenched them with her tears.
he had held her hand a long time in parting, smiling at her in his patient, benign way. his smile had been encouraging, though he had not told her to be brave. it was a compliment to her courage, she thought, that he had taken it for granted that she would be intrepid and had considered mere words of emboldenment as idle. he realized, she reasoned, that a girl who would set out to accomplish such an enormous task as hunting for an unexplored valley in an unmapped wilderness would have the bravery to meet with cheerfulness any unforeseen emergency that might arise.
when her cry was over she returned to camp and began to work as the surest way of overcoming her loneliness. not many provisions were left, as shonto had been obliged to take something along with him to[191] sustain life between the valley and the waiting pair in the cañon. charmian searched for and found a huckleberry patch, black with fruit which so far had resisted frost. she spent the remainder of the morning gathering berries, but realized as she worked that, since she had no way of preserving them, they represented food only for temporary use. she was not fond of fruit, either, but she forced herself to eat quantities of the juicy huckleberries at noon in order to save the staples in her pack.
that afternoon, wandering through the grove, she came upon a hut which was fairly well preserved. the construction was typically indian. ordinarily such huts are made by first sinking in the ground a hole about five feet in depth. around this pit stout poles are planted deep. these are bent in at the tops until they nearly touch, and are bound about with bark or strips of hide. the hole at the top allows the smoke to go through, and it also serves as an entrance. a short ladder or notched pole on the inside leads to the hole, and leaning against the structure on the outside is a corresponding pole or ladder. the entire framework of poles is covered with earth to a depth of several inches.
in this instance, however, the pit was a natural one, formed in solid rock. it probably had been a pothole in an ancient creek-bed. with this substantial beginning, the builder of the hut had constructed the above-ground portion along sturdier lines. instead of poles he had used the trunks of small redwood trees ten inches in diameter, and no other soft wood resists the[192] ravages of time so well. unable to sink the butts in the solid stone, he had dragged great slabs of rock and piled them about the base of his dwelling as anchors and had covered the whole with earth in far greater quantities than are commonly employed.
the result was that he had left a monument to his diligence and sound constructive principles, and it gave promise of a sheltered home for charmian.
she noted most of the details when she had found an ancient notched pole and used it as a ladder to climb to the entrance in the roof. shonto had explained the construction of these huts to her, so she knew how to go about getting into the seemingly doorless hovel. there was not much earth left on the sloping sides, but the straight, peeled redwood logs were close together, and the cracks between were narrow ones.
the light filtering in between these cracks revealed the interior as she clung to the top of the crude ladder and looked down through the hole.
as she had shudderingly expected, the first things that she saw were human skeletons, yellow rather than bleached, on the stone floor below her. the notched pole of the interior had broken off at the middle, and the two parts, old and decayed, lay prone. she dreaded to enter, but she thought that she must find a better refuge than the broad, unprotected outdoors. there probably were mountain lions in the valley, and maybe grizzlies were not altogether extinct in this remote region. she sat astride the upper ends of the logs and contrived to drag her notched pole up the side and lower it through the hole. to live in there she must[193] remove the skeletons, and she dreaded to touch them as she had never before dreaded anything in her life.
she clambered down to the rock bench surrounding the hole. she crawled over the edge and lowered herself backward into the five-foot pit. there were three skeletons, the bones of which were unscattered. dry, brown skin clung to them, wrinkled and harder than a drum-head. mats of black hair had slipped from the skulls and made cushions under them. with a feeling of deep repugnance she set about her inevitable task and began lifting the dry bones to the bench above. many of them she later was able to pitch through the hole in the roof, to hear them clattering down the redwood logs to the ground outside. larger portions that persisted in hanging together she laboriously carried to the top and dropped.
when this disagreeable task had been finished she gave more attention to the interior.
dirt had sifted in, of course, and the stone floor was partially covered with it. rain also would enter at every crack and settle in a pool in the rocky pit. she wondered if, when the hut was in shape, the earth thrown over it had kept it dry. if it were to snow before it rained, she thought, the snow covering might be effective in that respect. she knew that eskimos lived in huts of snow, but she did not know what held them up.
she found red pottery, crude and interesting—water ollas and great bowls and smaller dishes. she found a skin garment, well tanned and well preserved. it had been inlaid with brilliant duck scalps, the greater part[194] of which had succumbed to the erosive hand of time. she found nose rings and goose-quill ornaments and arrowheads of flint and obsidian and a bowl-shaped basketwork cap which once had been adorned with the bright feathers of woodpeckers and jays, for the remnants of them lay all about it. there were elk-horn knives and hatchets and awls of the sharpened bones of mule deer. and on a slab of bone, taken from the skeleton of some large animal and cut square, she found a crude carving unmistakably depicting the rather revolting episode of a woman vomiting up a frog.
she forgot her troubles, digging in the dirt for more relics with the primitive tools of the dead. she found a fish spear with a yew-wood shaft and a head of volcanic glass—a veritable treasure. she did not notice the darkening of the hut as the ephemeral winter sun sank swiftly nearer to the saw-tooth cliffs that towered about the valley of arcana. then of a sudden almost no light at all streamed in through the cracks, and the hut was dark and cold. she shuddered, scrambled to the bench, climbed the notched pole as hurriedly as possible, and, not stopping to drag it out after her, slid down the sloping side and landed in a heap on the ground.
twilight had come. night would follow soon, with the tall cliffs to shut off the last remnants of the sunlight from the valley. she hurried to her camp, spread her blankets, and pondered over what she would eat for supper.
there was not much choice. she had a little bacon,[195] a little flour, a little coffee, a quantity of salt, and a can of baking powder. her huckleberries were heaped upon the ground, and she looked at them askance. she had dined on huckleberries at noon—had forced herself to do so. she decided to fry some bacon for the resulting grease, to be used in making biscuits. the bacon she would not eat then, but would have it cold for supper to-morrow evening. one meal a day of staples was all that she could afford, she told herself, until andy came with more supplies. if he came!
she strove to keep andy from her thoughts. to think of him was to worry—and she must not worry. time for that when he came to her—when they could worry together and he could comfort her. she was going to fight her way bravely through the ordeal until he came—and then she would relax and let him take the initiative and relieve her of the strain. but how long could he hold out? and what dread thing was threatening him? but there! she must not think of that. dr. shonto had consoled her with the repeated remark that perhaps nothing would happen at all, provided he—shonto—was able to get back soon enough. provided! but she shook her head resolutely and went to work at getting supper while the shadows of night enshrouded the valley and coyotes began their evening concert in the hills.
the days and nights that passed until the coming of the expected one were fraught with torture. charmian was not afraid in the general meaning of the word, but the mysterious sink, so serene and quiet and remote, awed her and filled her with strange forebodings that[196] she could not shuffle off. she spent the days at gathering acorns, scolded at frequently by douglas squirrels who claimed the entire crop between the valley walls. the piñon nuts, too, they considered theirs, and told her so with angry chatterings, made more emphatic by the gestures of their jerking tails. a slight midnight rain brought to life near the river a bed of mushrooms of a variety which she had often gathered on the marin hills across the bay from san francisco. these she garnered eagerly, and they grew in quantities. she feasted on fresh ones for several meals, dipping them in thin batter and frying them in bacon grease, or stewing them. many she dried. and then she bethought herself to dry wild grapes and huckleberries, whereupon a new and engrossing task took form. all day long she managed to keep busy. this helped to keep away the blues, and at night she found herself so weary that sleep came easily.
she had lighted her signal fire, heaping on green boughs to make dense smoke. there was little wind in the valley, and the smoke streamed aloft in a graceful spiral above the treetops. every morning she rebuilt the fire and heaped on boughs when it was burning brightly. and now came a day when she stood often at the edge of the grove and scanned the zigzag trail into the sink with her binoculars. or, gathering nuts and acorns and mushrooms in the open, stopped her work and trained her glasses about every fifteen minutes.
and at noon one day she was rewarded by the sight of a tiny speck descending along the trail. she shouted[197] in her eagerness and loneliness, unmindful that her lover was miles away. she glanced once to make sure that the smoke was still streaming aloft from her signal fire, then began running toward the river. if she could bring herself to cross the log bridge she could run into the open on the other side and travel a long way in the direction of the northern cliffs before andy had reached the bottom of the sink. she hesitated only a little when she reached the fallen tree, then climbed astride it and worked her way over the boiling water, gripping with hands and calves.
they sighted each other in one of the level meadows of the river bottom. andy shouted to her; she shrilled a glad reply. then both started running, came together panting for breath, and hung in each other’s arms.
then once more charmian reemy sobbed, this time with her tousled head on the broad shoulder of the man who loved her. she had promised herself this weeping spell as a reward for holding back her tears throughout the days and nights just past; and now she rewarded herself abundantly and without reserve. but hers were tears of gladness and relief. nothing was to happen to andy! the doctor had needlessly distressed her. here he was in her arms, big and strong and virile and handsome as a god—what ever could happen to such a man! there was food in the valley—nuts and game and fish. and if the huckleberries would only last she would be content to live on them alone, while andy was with her in the valley. the doctor might never return if he chose to leave them there[198] together. what mattered it, when she had andy? the valley of arcana had lost its grimness. it was a valley of happy smiles, blessed by nature, sun kissed, gloriously resplendent from wall to wall. it was warm noontide and the sun was overhead—and she was crying happily on andy’s shoulder.
“and had mary temple and the doctor started out when you left?” she asked finally, wiping her tears on a sleeve of her flannel shirt.
“yes, dear—we all started at the same time. doctor shonto told me about mary’s faking a sprained ankle. she’ll have a time of it with that broken rib, i’m thinking. but i guess there was no other way. what did the doctor tell you about me, charmian?”
“he wouldn’t explain anything,” she answered. “wouldn’t warn me at all beyond telling me that i couldn’t be of any help to you if—if anything happened.”
“don’t worry,” he told her lightly. “nothing at all is going to happen. i have almost twice as much dope as doctor shonto thought i had; but still the quantity is small compared with the store he carried. anyway, he wouldn’t trust me to try and make the trip out on it, for some one would have had to return here for you, and days would have been wasted. but he cheered me up—and told me to pass it on to you—by saying that there probably was no danger at all, and that everything depended on his getting back to us in a couple of weeks or more. that ought to be easy for him.”
“but if it snows heavily, andy?”
“not a sign of a cloud now. a little rain a couple[199] of nights ago, but just a shower. doesn’t mean anything at all as regards the setting in of winter. in the altitudes it may snow, even, in june, july, and august—any time. he’ll make it all right, and we’ll all get out before snow flies.
“it all seems ridiculous to me, charmian. here i am as strong as an ox, healthy and whole, and enjoying life immensely. but i have been told ever since i can remember that if i don’t take those infernal tablets regularly i’ll die. yet doctor shonto never has warned me against putting great strains on my heart. always has struck me as a funny sort of heart trouble that i’m afflicted with. but i don’t know anything about diseases of the heart. this can’t be a common one, though, can it?”
“it’s not your heart at all, andy,” she said. “the doctor told me so. it’s something else—a secret between him and your parents. and i don’t know what to expect if the doctor fails to get in before your tablets give out.”
this continually worried her. the doctor had said that andy’s life depended on regular doses of the medicine, but he had not exactly warned her of death. there was something dreadful back of his solemn words which convinced her that andy’s state would be worse than death—a living death of some sort, her reason kept on torturing her.
“well, no use to worry, sweetheart,” he said lightly. “chances are all of your fears are useless. have you had plenty to eat? i brought every pound i could lug. there was plenty left for the doctor and[200] mary to get back to the cache on. they can load up fresh there. that is, doctor shonto can—mary can’t pack a pound. what have you been doing? discovered anything? doctor shonto told me about his advising you to gather all the nuts and acorns you could before i came. got any?”
“yes—piles. i gathered them in order to forget myself.”
“good idea. let’s get to your camp now. i’m a wizard in the woods, and the doctor told me that the valley is well supplied with things to eat. i’ll show you how to roast the pine nuts and make bellota—indian acorn bread—and make traps and things. this will be a regular picnic for us, charmian. prettiest spot i ever saw. i’m keen to get to nosing around. we’ll have the time of our young lives.”
“yes, everything will be interesting—now,” said charmian, with a happy sigh of relief. “if—if only—”
“there! there!” laughed andy. “no ‘if onlys’ about it. forget it and let’s begin our castaway life with nothing but anticipation.”a
