A Voice in the Wilderness | Page 3

a situation. How
confidently had she accepted the position which offered her the
opening she had sought for the splendid career that she hoped was to
follow! How fearless had she been! Coyotes, nor Indians, nor wild
cowboy students--nothing had daunted her courage. Besides, she told
her mother it was very different going to a town from what it would be
if she were a missionary going to the wilds. It was an important school
she was to teach, where her Latin and German and mathematical
achievements had won her the place above several other applicants, and
where her well-known tact was expected to work wonders. But what
were Latin and German and mathematics now? Could they show her
how to climb a water-tank? Would tact avail with a hungry wolf?
The howl in the distance seemed to come nearer. She cast frightened
eyes to the unresponsive water-tank looming high and dark above her.
She must get up there somehow. It was not safe to stand here a minute.
Besides, from that height she might be able to see farther, and perhaps
there would be a light somewhere and she might cry for help.
Investigation showed a set of rude spikes by which the trainmen were
wont to climb up, and Margaret prepared to ascend them. She set her
suit-case dubiously down at the foot. Would it be safe to leave it there?
She had read how coyotes carried off a hatchet from a camping-party,
just to get the leather thong which was bound about the handle. She
could not afford to lose her things. Yet how could she climb and carry
that heavy burden with her? A sudden thought came.
Her simple traveling-gown was finished with a silken girdle, soft and
long, wound twice about her waist and falling in tasseled ends. Swiftly
she untied it and knotted one end firmly to the handle of her suit-case,

tying the other end securely to her wrist. Then slowly, cautiously, with
many a look upward, she began to climb.
It seemed miles, though in reality it was but a short distance. The
howling beasts in the distance sounded nearer now and continually,
making her heart beat wildly. She was stiff and bruised from her falls,
and weak with fright. The spikes were far apart, and each step of
progress was painful and difficult. It was good at last to rise high
enough to see over the water-tank and feel a certain confidence in her
defense.
But she had risen already beyond the short length of her silken tether,
and the suit-case was dragging painfully on her arm. She was obliged
to steady herself where she stood and pull it up before she could go on.
Then she managed to get it swung up to the top of the tank in a
comparatively safe place. One more long spike step and she was beside
it.
The tank was partly roofed over, so that she had room enough to sit on
the edge without danger of falling in and drowning. For a few minutes
she could only sit still and be thankful and try to get her breath back
again after the climb; but presently the beauty of the night began to cast
its spell over her. That wonderful blue of the sky! It hadn't ever before
impressed her that skies were blue at night. She would have said they
were black or gray. As a matter of fact, she didn't remember to have
ever seen so much sky at once before, nor to have noticed skies in
general until now.
This sky was so deeply, wonderfully blue, the stars so real, alive and
sparkling, that all other stars she had ever seen paled before them into
mere imitations. The spot looked like one of Taylor's pictures of the
Holy Land. She half expected to see a shepherd with his crook and
sheep approaching her out of the dim shadows, or a turbaned,
white-robed David with his lifted hands of prayer standing off among
the depths of purple darkness. It would not have been out of keeping if
a walled city with housetops should be hidden behind the clumps of
sage-brush farther on. 'Twas such a night and such a scene as this,
perhaps, when the wise men started to follow the star!

But one cannot sit on the edge of a water-tank in the desert night alone
and muse long on art and history. It was cold up there, and the howling
seemed nearer than before. There was no sign of a light or a house
anywhere, and not even a freight-train sent its welcome clatter down
the track. All was still and wide and lonely, save that terrifying sound
of the beasts; such stillness as she had not ever thought could be--a
fearful