notes by flood and field-第5部分

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old　woman　and　babies　last　week。　　George'll　turn　up　somewhar　atween

this　and　Altascar's　ef　he　ain't　thar　now。〃



I　ask　how　the　Altascars　have　suffered。



〃Well；　I　reckon　he　ain't　lost　much　in　stock。　　I　shouldn't　wonder　if

George　helped　him　drive　'em　up　the　foothills。　　And　his　casa's　built

too　high。　　Oh；　thar　ain't　any　water　thar；　you　bet。　　Ah；〃　says　Wise；

with　reflective　admiration；　〃those　greasers　ain't　the　darned　fools

people　thinks　'em。　　I'll　bet　thar　ain't　one　swamped　out　in　all　'er

Californy。〃　　But　the　appearance　of　〃grub〃　cut　this　rhapsody　short。



〃I　shall　keep　on　a　little　farther；〃　I　say；　〃and　try　to　find

George。〃



Wise　stared　a　moment　at　this　eccentricity　until　a　new　light　dawned

upon　him。



〃I　don't　think　you'll　save　much。　　What's　the　percentageworkin'　on

shares；　eh！〃



I　answer　that　I　am　only　curious；　which　I　feel　lessens　his　opinion

of　me；　and　with　a　sadder　feeling　than　his　assurance　of　George's

safety　might　warrant；　I　walked　away。



From　others　whom　we　picked　up　from　time　to　time　we　heard　of

George's　self…sacrificing　devotion；　with　the　praises　of　the　many　he

had　helped　and　rescued。　　But　I　did　not　feel　disposed　to　return

until　I　had　seen　him；　and　soon　prepared　myself　to　take　a　boat　to

the　lower　VALDA　of　the　foothills；　and　visit　Altascar。　　I　soon

perfected　my　arrangements；　bade　farewell　to　Wise；　and　took　a　last

look　at　the　old　man；　who　was　sitting　by　the　furnace　fires　quite

passive　and　composed。　　Then　our　boat　head　swung　round；　pulled　by

sturdy　and　willing　hands。



It　was　again　raining；　and　a　disagreeable　wind　had　risen。　　Our

course　lay　nearly　west；　and　we　soon　knew　by　the　strong　current　that

we　were　in　the　creek　of　the　Espiritu　Santo。　　From　time　to　time　the

wrecks　of　barns　were　seen；　and　we　passed　many　half…submerged

willows　hung　with　farming　implements。



We　emerge　at　last　into　a　broad　silent　sea。　　It　is　the　〃LLANO　DE

ESPIRITU　SANTO。〃　　As　the　wind　whistles　by　me；　piling　the　shallower

fresh　water　into　mimic　waves；　I　go　back；　in　fancy；　to　the　long　ride

of　October　over　that　boundless　plain；　and　recall　the　sharp　outlines

of　the　distant　hills；　which　are　now　lost　in　the　lowering　clouds。

The　men　are　rowing　silently；　and　I　find　my　mind；　released　from　its

tension；　growing　benumbed　and　depressed　as　then。　　The　water；　too；

is　getting　more　shallow　as　we　leave　the　banks　of　the　creek；　and

with　my　hand　dipped　listlessly　over　the　thwarts；　I　detect　the　tops

of　chimisal；　which　shows　the　tide　to　have　somewhat　fallen。　　There

is　a　black　mound；　bearing　to　the　north　of　the　line　of　alder；　making

an　adverse　current；　which；　as　we　sweep　to　the　right　to　avoid；　I

recognize。　　We　pull　close　alongside　and　I　call　to　the　men　to　stop。



There　was　a　stake　driven　near　its　summit　with　the　initials；　〃L。　E。

S。　I。〃　　Tied　halfway　down　was　a　curiously　worked　riata。　　It　was

George's。　　It　had　been　cut　with　some　sharp　instrument；　and　the

loose　gravelly　soil　of　the　mound　was　deeply　dented　with　horses'

hoofs。　　The　stake　was　covered　with　horsehairs。　　It　was　a　record；

but　no　clue。



The　wind　had　grown　more　violent　as　we　still　fought　our　way　forward；

resting　and　rowing　by　turns；　and　oftener　〃poling〃　the　shallower

surface；　but　the　old　VALDA；　or　bench；　is　still　distant。　　My

recollection　of　the　old　survey　enables　me　to　guess　the　relative

position　of　the　meanderings　of　the　creek；　and　an　occasional　simple

professional　experiment　to　determine　the　distance　gives　my　crew　the

fullest　faith　in　my　ability。　　Night　overtakes　us　in　our　impeded

progress。　　Our　condition　looks　more　dangerous　than　it　really　is；

but　I　urge　the　men；　many　of　whom　are　still　new　in　this　mode　of

navigation；　to　greater　exertion　by　assurance　of　perfect　safety　and

speedy　relief　ahead。　　We　go　on　in　this　way　until　about　eight

o'clock；　and　ground　by　the　willows。　　We　have　a　muddy　walk　for　a　few

hundred　yards　before　we　strike　a　dry　trail；　and　simultaneously　the

white　walls　of　Altascar's　appear　like　a　snowbank　before　us。　　Lights

are　moving　in　the　courtyard；　but　otherwise　the　old　tomblike　repose

characterizes　the　building。



One　of　the　peons　recognized　me　as　I　entered　the　court；　and　Altascar

met　me　on　the　corridor。



I　was　too　weak　to　do　more　than　beg　his　hospitality　for　the　men　who

had　dragged　wearily　with　me。　　He　looked　at　my　hand；　which　still

unconsciously　held　the　broken　riata。　　I　began；　wearily；　to　tell　him

about　George　and　my　fears；　but　with　a　gentler　courtesy　than　was

even　his　wont；　he　gravely　laid　his　hand　on　my　shoulder。



〃POCO　A　POCO；　senornot　now。　　You　are　tired；　you　have　hunger；　you

have　cold。　　Necessary　it　is　you　should　have　peace。〃



He　took　us　into　a　small　room　and　poured　out　some　French　cognac；

which　he　gave　to　the　men　that　had　accompanied　me。　　They　drank　and

threw　themselves　before　the　fire　in　the　larger　room。　　The　repose　of

the　building　was　intensified　that　night；　and　I　even　fancied　that

the　footsteps　on　the　corridor　were　lighter　and　softer。　　The　old

Spaniard's　habitual　gravity　was　deeper；　we　might　have　been　shut　out

from　the　world　as　well　as　the　whistling　storm；　behind　those　ancient

walls　with　their　time…worn　inheritor。



Before　I　could　repeat　my　inquiry　he　retired。　　In　a　few　minutes　two

smoking　dishes　of　CHUPA　with　coffee　were　placed　before　us；　and　my

men　ate　ravenously。　　I　drank　the　coffee；　but　my　excitement　and

weariness　kept　down　the　instincts　of　hunger。



I　was　sitting　sadly　by　the　fire　when　he　reentered。



〃You　have　eat？〃



I　said；　〃Yes；〃　to　please　him。



〃BUENO；　eat　when　you　canfood　and　appetite　are　not　always。〃



He　said　this　with　that　Sancho…like　simplicity　with　which　most　of

his　countrymen　utter　a　proverb；　as　though　it　were　an　experience

rather　than　a　legend；　and；　taking　the　riata　from　the　floor；　held　it

almost　tenderly　before　him。



〃It　was　made　by　me；　senor。〃



〃I　kept　it　as　a　clue　to　him；　Don　Altascar；〃　I　said。　　〃If　I　could

find　him〃



〃He　is　here。〃



〃Here！　and〃but　I　could　not　say　〃well！〃　　I　understood　the　gravity

of　the　old　man's　face；　the　hushed　footfalls；　the　tomblike　repose　of

the　building；　in　an　electric　flash　of　consciousness；　I　held　the

clue　to　the　broken　riata　at　last。　　Altascar　took　my　hand；　and　we

crossed　the　corridor　to　a　somber　apartment。　　A　few　tall　candles

were　burning　in　sconces　before　the　window。



In　an　alcove　there　was　a　deep　bed　with　its　counterpane；　pillows；

and　sheets　heavily　edged　with　lace；　in　all　that　splendid　luxury

which　the　humblest　of　these　strange　people　lavish　upon　this　single

item　of　their　household。　　I　stepped　beside　it　and　saw　George　lying；

as　I　had　seen　him　once　before；　peacefully　at　rest。　　But　a　greater

sacrifice　than　that　he　had　known　was　here；　and　his　generous　heart

was　stilled　forever。



〃He　was　honest　and　brave；〃　said　the　old　man；　and　turned　away。

There　was　another　figure　in　the　room；　a　heavy　shawl　drawn　over　her

graceful　outline；　and　her　long　black　hair　hiding　the　hands　that

buried　her　downcast　face。　　I　did　not　seem　to　notice　her；　and；

retiring　presently；　left　the　loving　and　loved　together。



When　we　were　again　beside　the　crackling　fire；　in　the　shifting

shadows　of　the　great　chamber；　Altascar　told　me　how　he　had　that

morning　met　the　horse　of　George　Tryan　swimming　on　the　prairie；　how

that；　farther　on；　he　found　him　lying；　quite　cold　and　dead；　with　no

marks　or　bruises　on　his　person；　that　he　had　probably　become

exhausted　in　fording　the　creek；　and　that　he　had　as　probably　reached

the　mound　only　to　die　for　want　of　that　help　he　had　so　freely　given

to　others；　that；　as　a　last　act；　he　had　freed　his　horse。　　These

incidents　were　corroborated　by　many　who　collected　in　the　great

chamber　that　eveningwomen　and　childrenmost　of　them　succored

through　the　devoted　energies　of　him　who　lay　cold　and　lifeless

above。



He　was　buried　in　the　Indian　moundthe　single　spot　of　strange

perennial　greenness　which　the　poor　aborigines　had　raised　above　the

dusty　plain。　　A　little　slab　of　sandstone　with　the　initials　〃G。　T。〃

is　his　monument；　and　one　of　the　bearings　of　the　initial　corner　of

the　new　survey　of　the　〃Espiritu　Santo　Rancho。〃