Gods Country--And the Woman | Page 7

make
him know--that this fear was of man. He felt at this thought a little thrill
of joy, of undefinable exultation. He sprang from the rock and went
down to the shore of the lake, scanning its surface with eager,
challenging eyes. In these moments he forgot that civilization was
waiting for him, that for eighteen months he had been struggling

between life and death at the naked and barbarous end of the earth. All
at once, in the space of a few minutes, his world had shrunken until it
held but two things for him--the autumn-tinted forests, and the girl.
Beyond these he thought of nothing except the minutes that were
dragging like thirty weights of lead.
As the hand of his watch marked off the twenty-fifth of the prescribed
thirty he turned his steps in the direction of the pool. He half expected
that she would be there when he came over the ridge of rock. But she
had not returned. He looked up the coulee, end then at the firm white
sand close to the water. The imprints of her feet were there--small,
narrow imprints of a heeled shoe. Unconsciously he smiled, for no
other reason than that each surprise he encountered was a new delight
to him. A forest girl as he had known them would have worn
moccasins--six hundred miles from civilization.
As he was about to leap across the narrow neck of the pool he noticed a
white object almost buried in the dry sand, and picked it up. It was a
handkerchief; and this, too, was a surprise. He had not particularly
noticed her dress, except that it was soft and clinging blue. The
handkerchief he looked at more closely. It was of fine linen with a
border of lace, and so soft that he could have hidden it in the palm of
his hand. From it rose a faint, sweet scent of the wild rock violet. He
knew that it was rock violet, because more than once he had crushed
the blossoms between his hands. He thrust the bit of fabric in the breast
of his flannel shirt, and walked swiftly up the coulee.
A hundred yards above him the stream turned abruptly, and here a strip
of forest meadow grew to the water's edge. He sprang up the low bank,
and stood face to face with the girl.
She had heard his approach, and was waiting for him, a little smile of
welcome on her lips. She had completed her toilet. She had braided her
wonderful hair, and it was gathered in a heavy, shimmering coronet
about her head. There was a flutter of lace at her throat, and little fluffs
of it at her wrists. She was more beautiful, more than ever like the
queen of a kingdom as she stood before him now. And she was alone.
He saw that in his first swift glance.

"You didn't eat the prunes?" she asked, and for the first time he saw a
bit of laughter in her eyes.
"No--I--I kicked the fire from under them," he said.
He caught the significance of her words, and her sudden sidewise
gesture. A short distance from them was a small tent, and on the grass
in front of the tent was spread a white cloth, on which was a meal such
as he had not looked upon for two years.
"I am glad," she said, and again her eyes met his with their glow of
friendly humour. "They might have spoiled your appetite, and I have
made up my mind that I want you to have dinner with me. I can't offer
you pie or doughnuts. But I have a home-made fruit cake, and a pot of
jam that I made myself. Will you join me?"
They sat down, with the feast between them, and the girl leaned over to
turn him a cup of tea from a pot that was already made and waiting.
Her lovely head was near him, and he stared with hungry adoration at
the thick, shining braids, and the soft white contour of her cheek and
neck. She leaned back suddenly, and caught him. The words that were
on her lips remained unspoken. The laughter went from her eyes. In a
hot wave the blood flushed his own face.
"Forgive me if I do anything you don't understand," he begged. "For
weeks past I have been wondering how I would act when I met white
people again. Perhaps you can't understand. But eighteen months up
there--eighteen months without the sound of a white woman's voice,
without a glimpse of her face, with only dreams to live on--will make
me queer for a time. Can't you understand--a little?"
"A great deal," she replied so quickly that she put him at ease again.