dr. inman shonto was a prisoner in a little adobe hut back of the corrals at tanburt’s ranch. the dun walls were a foot in thickness, the door of solid slabs of oak securely bolted, and the lone window was less than ten inches square. this hut had once been used as a place to keep milk and butter cool, and in that day was adjacent to the first house that gus tanburt had built on his property. the old house had been wrecked in time and a new one built, but the old adobe buttery had withstood the years.
there was no escape; the thick walls and tiny window made imprisonment therein effectual. shonto paced the floor, smoked his pipe and cigarettes, and tried to hold his temper. he had written the message, and either leach or morley had gone with it to the nearest telegraph station. a day and a night had passed, and shonto had seen nobody but a halfbreed cowpuncher, who brought his meals regularly and thrust them in through the ten-inch opening. he had blankets and a couch, and was fairly comfortable. but, with the exception of the halfbreed, no one paid any attention to him.
he smiled bitterly as he paced about, strong hands clasped behind his back. up in the mountains a young[229] man soon would be facing a grinning spectre that threatened to ruin his life, and the girl who loved him would be looking on in horror, unable to save him, forced to witness the ghastly thing that was taking place before her eyes. close at hand an ignorant old man waited for the doctor to perform a trifling operation that promised renewed vigor and the semblance of youth, which would place at the mercy of his selfish desire a ripe girl-woman, pulsing with the warm springtime of maturity.
he had not yet set eyes on this old gargoyle of a man, but he pictured him uncouth, cunning, repulsive, terrifying, as he gloated over his defenceless and shrinking prey. what right had this old monster to demand of life the replenished fires of youth which he had quenched in the soul-warping fight for wealth? was it consistent with progress that this old man, because he had the means, should be allowed to regain his physical vigour, and perhaps perpetuate his kind in a world already hampered with such as he? sheep glands substituted for his own worthless organs would not serve to purge his corroded soul nor wipe from his fading mind the cobwebs of superstition and ignorance and prejudice that put him out of step in the march of progress. such as he should be left to die and be forgotten; it seemed a crime to help him to perpetuate himself, and bring into the world stupid offspring handicapped by heredity from the very start! no, the hope of progress lay in new blood. let the old generation, with its ignorance and its out-of-tune ideas, become extinct. let science better the youth of the age, if[230] possible, but refrain from prolonging the life of that arch enemy of youth and advancement—old age!
the scientist was not only a strong advocate of birth control, but at times he went even further and longed to see the race die out entirely. this, of course, in his bitterest moments, when he realized what a fiasco man had made of life. war and slavery; disease and pestilence; poverty and greed; the stupidity of labour and the tyranny of capital; the arrogance of the church and the cowardice of thinkers; science devoted to the problem of disassociating atoms one from another so that the world need not search for new oil and coal fields, but neglecting to discover cures for pyorrhea and catarrh; people suffering for the want of food and clothes in a world filled to overflowing with the necessities of life; the timber on a million hills laid low and wasted in a few short years, and families without shelter for their heads!—why prolong this hideous nightmare of confusion? let the race die out; let the old world groan once more in the travail of a new upheaval; and when it cooled, let protoplastic man be born again in the slime and begin all over from the bottom!
then thought of his lifelong work with the glands would soothe him, and his kindly eyes would smile. he never could untwist the brains of the generation with his efforts, he knew, but he could lay a foundation for his successors to build upon.
so dr. inman shonto was a great mind. a pessimist to the core, as are most thinkers who search for the eternal truths, he nevertheless worked for the betterment[231] of what he considered hopeless conditions, and wooed optimism while he worked.
well, he would perform the operation. the deck was stacked against him. in order to save youth this time he needs must bow to the whims of cantankerous old age. but he would make an effort to save that girl, whoever she might be, from the consequences of this iniquitous passion. he would take her away from her poverty to the city and give her a chance in life—he would take her to charmian and place her under that influence. he would rob this twitching old david of the ewe lamb that he lusted for!
he had reached the ranch blindfolded. morley had told him of the rancher’s cravings, but he had not divulged his name. when the operation was over and his services no longer needed, he would be taken out on the desert, blindfolded again, and left to find his own way to the nearest habitation. leach and morley would direct him, they promised, but would ride away and leave him for their own protection. well, never mind! (still pacing back and forth, back and forth.) he would get to the bottom of this thing. he would save that girl!
two days more had passed. through the little window dr. inman shonto saw that the desert was overhung with clouds. up over the mountains they were voluminous and black. he believed that it was snowing up there. every day, perhaps, the mantle of white was being spread deeper and deeper over the land. the stretch of chaparral between dewlap mountain[232] and the valley of arcana would become impassable. one could not crawl under the branches with the ground covered with snow; and until the snow had reached a depth of twelve feet one could not snowshoe over the tops. still no sign of the man who had gone to send the telegram.
midnight, with shirttail henry wrapped in his blankets beside the spring in the calico buttes, and lot’s wife dozing in the background. lot’s wife snorted and scrambled to her feet. shirttail henry stirred, blinked his mild blue eyes, and sat erect. he felt beside him, assured himself that the new rain gauge was safe, and spoke thus to mrs. lot:
“quit snorin’, ass, and go to sleep!”
but as he finished the words he heard the thumping of a horse’s feet.
instantly he flung himself from his blankets and stood in a listening attitude. the burro’s twelve-inch ears were nearly touching at the tips and her mouseskin muzzle quivered. her ears pointed the direction from which the horse was approaching.
“comin’ from th’ mountains,” mumbled henry. “funny time o’ night to be hittin’ th’ trail. one critter.”
he stepped lightly to the rocks about the spring and flattened himself in the shadows. the thudding continued, and presently, though he could see nothing because of the blackness cast by a cloudy sky, he knew that the animal was close. a single eye of light peered out from the nest of ashes of his waning fire, enough[233] to convince the newcomer, if the horse bore a rider, that some one was camping at the spring. the horse did bear a rider, for no horse, even though he was an exceptional horse and gifted with speech, would have been so peremptory in his demand:
“i want to know who’s camping here. speak out! who’s here?”
“it’s me,” came henry’s voice from the shadows.
“oh, old marblehead, eh? are you dressed?”
“yes’m.”
“then step out here, please, and tell me what’s become of doctor shonto!”
“you’re miss mary temple, ain’t you?”
“no, i’m miss william jennings bryan. come on out! what’re you hiding there for? where’s doctor shonto? i want to know at once. talk, you damned quitter!”
henry came forth and stared at the black bulk that she made in the night. never before had the mild henry heard a woman use profanity. he was completely flabbergasted.
“i—i didn’t know ye cussed, ma’am,” he found himself saying.
“what you don’t know about me,” snapped mary, “would give you a college education if you could find it out. i curse when i’m mad, like anybody else does who’s got any gumption. i’m a bad woman, henry richkirk—and don’t you forget it!”
“i’m plumb s’prised, ma’am,” he puzzled. “you don’t cuss when mis’ reemy’s about, do ye?”
“i don’t,” barked mary. “but that’s no sign i[234] can’t. and when i swear i’m mad. now poke up that fire and tell me what’s become of doctor shonto!”
“i ain’t seen ’im at all, ma’am,” said henry, stirring the embers and heaping on kindling and stony yucca.
“don’t lie to me!”
“honest!”
“what are you doing here?”
“i been to town to git me a new rain gauge, ma’am. it didn’t come right soon, and i—i waited.”
“what town?”
“to emerald, ma’am—that’s sixty miles from diamond h. and i had to camp here to-night ’cause i was all wore out. i got drunk at emerald, ma’am, and i’m plumb tuckered. but i oughta be in the mountains. is it rainin’ or snowin’ up there?”
“it is. above mosquito.” mary was dismounting stiffly. “and doctor shonto was due to pass mosquito two days ago. i ought to be in bed, but i rode out to see what had happened to him. i couldn’t find anybody at your place when i got there at dusk, so i rode on down. now i want to know what’s become of doctor shonto.”
“i can’t tell ye, ma’am—honest! but i see omar leach and smith morley clost to th’ foot o’ th’ trail when i was ridin’ outa these here mountains here on my way to diamond h.”
“leach and morley? what were they doing? what did they want?”
“they were askin’ about you folks,” henry told her. “i don’t know what they want.”
[235]“i know what they want! they want money! why aren’t they out of this country?”
“i can’t tell ye, ma’am. they ain’t been to diamond h sence they went back there after they ditched you folks. they left smith’s woman there, but before i got in she’d went out with roger furlong in his buckboard to the railroad. smith and omar they’d gone to gus tanburt’s, roger said. they’re friends o’ gus’s.”
“who’s gus tanburt?”
henry told her, adding: “that’s th’ only place they could go to, ma’am. maybe they thought gus would get ’em outa th’ shinbone country. but, then, i see ’em at th’ foot o’ th’ trail to shirttail bend, like i told ye. and, ma’am, they was somethin’ here in camp here that i noticed when me and mrs. lot rambled in this evenin’. ground all tromped, like they’d been a mix-up.”
“and you’re positive that doctor shonto never got to diamond h ranch?”
“just so—sure, ma’am.”
“all right. get me something to eat, please. my grub’s back of my saddle. make me a little tea. i’m sick, henry. i’ve got a broken rib, and riding is killing me. but we’ll eat and get on to this tanburt ranch. how far is it?”
“why, ma’am, it’s miles and miles! and ye don’t know th’ way.”
“you do, though. i want to know what’s happened to doctor shonto, and you’ve got to go along and help me find out.”
[236]“but, ma’am, i jest can’t. it’ll be rainin’ in th’ mountains in less’n twelve hours. you know i’m a gov’ment official, and—”
“oh, well—forget it!” exploded mary. “make me some tea and i’ll ride on alone if you can show me the way.”
“but, ma’am—”
“make me some tea, i said—damn it all!”
while he bustled about, hopeful of ridding himself of her after attending to her temporary wants, she watered and fed her horse rolled barley, then threw off the saddle, examined the animal’s back with an expert eye, and put it on the picket rope. presently she came and sat down on the ground by the fire, cupped her bony chin in one lean hand, and gazed eaglelike into the flames.
“henry,” she said, “guess what i’m sitting on.”
henry wheeled and stared at her in blank amazement. he looked all around her, then advanced the theory that she was sitting on the ground.
“wrong, henry,” said mary gloomily. “i’m sitting on your new rain gauge. but don’t be alarmed. i’m keeping my weight off it. i won’t sit down hard, henry, unless you persist in refusing to accompany me to tanburt’s ranch to get on the trail of doctor shonto. what do you say, henry?”
henry had nothing to say, so he looked worried and cackled his silly “heh-heh-heh!” at half-past one he was stalking into the night in a southwesterly direction, with mary temple riding behind him, tortured by the rolling motion of her walking horse, but[237] enduring silently. the rain gauge was strapped at the front jockey of her saddle, its thin brass ready to be squeezed to uselessness if shirttail henry became obstinate.
