CRIMSON MOUNTAIN (18 page)

And how good-looking he was, so tall and such strong fine features! How his brown hair waved away from his forehead where the army cap had made a crease. Then he was beside her looking down, and she felt again what beautiful eyes he had. Silly! She had seen them yesterday and noted it then, but he seemed now so much more interesting and desirable since he had told her he loved her. Going away! How terrible it was, and she had just found him! She must not surrender her thoughts to him so entirely. She was not a silly young girl.

But her glance met his, and her caution fled to the winds.

They talked a few minutes quietly. He told her what he had been doing on Crimson, how the work was finished, and he had arranged for care for his little cemetery. Mark’s young brother was going to do that for him.

He asked her about her school, and she gave him a brief, comical description of her day, her eyes dancing with just the joy of talking to him. And then they saw the train coming, and into both pairs of eyes there came a look of dread. Their time together was over! Only another three minutes perhaps.

There were a few people on the platform down nearer to the station where the train would probably stop. He measured the distance of the oncoming train, and then suddenly he stooped and gathered her in his arms for just an instant, holding her close and kissing her with a caress that spoke many sweet messages.

“Good-bye, dearest,” he whispered. “Don’t forget me. Be praying!”

“Oh, I will,” she breathed softly.

Then he caught up his baggage and strode down the platform, swinging onto the steps of the first car and standing there as the train started and passed her. She was smiling, tears on her face. His smile meant so much as he saluted while going by! He stood there on the step as long as the train was in sight, until it swept around the curve and passed on toward the city, till he could no longer see the flutter of her handkerchief.

And if anyone had seen the new schoolteacher in the arms of a good-looking soldier boy and looked curiously, trying to figure out who they were, the two didn’t know it, for they were taking snapshots in their hearts for use in the barren days ahead.

And so in due time, Laurel got into her car, drove around awhile till she was sure she wouldn’t weep, and then put her car in the garage at her boardinghouse, washed her face till the tearstains were no longer visible, and went down to a very poor Monday supper. Or maybe it was the tears that made it seem so poor. Or the stolid Byrger sitting across in that corner, boring her soul again with his gimlet eyes. Oh, she certainly must find a new boarding place!

But she was too tired to think about it tonight. Besides, she had other things to think about. She would go right to her room and be by herself.

But she found it was not so easy to be by herself. The stolid man with the gimlet eyes arose from his table just as she did and followed her out into the hall.

“Good evening,” he said in his smooth, insinuating voice. “We’re fellow boarders, so I assume that makes us acquainted. My name is Byrger. Carl Byrger. What is yours?”

Laurel stiffened haughtily. She did not want to tell this man her name, but there was no point in being disagreeable.

“Sheridan,” she said coldly. “Miss Sheridan.”

“Glad to meet you, Miss Sheridan. How about a little walk this evening? I understand there are some pleasant views around this town. I’m on a new government project up on a mountain nearby. I thought we might walk up there and look the ground over. Would you like to go?”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” said Laurel severely, “I have work to do this evening.”

“Oh, well, then tomorrow evening?” he said. His gimlet eyes had a mocking look in them.

“It’s quite impossible
any
evening,” said Laurel with finality. “My evenings are otherwise occupied,” and she swept upstairs in a hurry. And then, after she had locked her door, she stood for a moment with her back against it, her hand on her heart, puffing as if she were out of breath, and her eyes blazing.

After a little while she calmed down. “Silly!” she said to herself. “I’m just silly. He’s only a poor, stupid ignoramus who thinks he can barge in anywhere and make friends. Maybe I was too hard on him. I could have been a little pleasanter about it. I could have smiled when I said no. Probably that’s what a real Christian was meant to do. I don’t need to accept his attentions, of course, if that’s what you call them, but I can be gracious about it. Maybe that’s how you live up to your glory in your life—try to keep everything clean and fine about you so the glory can shine through. Well, I’ve got to study about that. Perhaps there’s more to it than I’ve seen on the surface. Perhaps you have to get to the place where you find you can’t do it of yourself. You’ve got to have Christ’s help for it. I’ll have to investigate.”

Laurel calmed down at last and went over to her desk to examine the books she had brought home from school. It was most necessary that she go over the lessons she must teach the next day. The books were all new to her. So she settled down to work.

But she hadn’t been at it more than a half hour when there came a knock at her door. She jumped up, annoyed to be interrupted, and found it was only the boy from the office saying someone wanted her on the telephone. Now what could that be? None of her friends as yet knew where in Carrollton she was located, so it must be the principal of the school. Maybe some suggestion about tomorrow. Perhaps he hadn’t liked the way she had done things today and he was going to dismiss her. She half wished it were so, that she could get out of this town and most of all out of this boarding place at once. Only where could she go? Not to Cousin Carolyn’s again. Not
ever!

She hurried downstairs, annoyed to see Byrger sitting slumped in a big chair over in the corner behind the evening paper, quite near to the telephone, his gimlet eyes peering interestedly at her as she appeared. There! There it was again! She was in need of patience moment by moment, and she had none of her own. Would God supply it? It wasn’t like polishing up a dirty engine room. Her own vigilance couldn’t ever keep her spirit in check. She must ask God about it.

She went to the telephone and spoke in a subdued tone, conscious all the time of the avid listener across the room.

And then suddenly her heart leaped up at the sound that came to her over the wire.

“Is that you, Laurel?” It was Pilgrim, and her voice broke into a lilt in spite of the listener.

“Oh—
yes
! Where
are
you?”

“I’ve reached camp. I promised to let you know.”

“Oh thank you! Thanks a lot!”

“Are you all right? ”There was tenderness and yet restraint in his voice, a voice that showed he knew there must be strangers about who might be able to hear him.

“Yes, I’m all right and hard at work, getting ready for tomorrow. Did you have a pleasant trip? Oh, I’m so glad. And it was so nice of you to let me know that everything is all right. I—would have been worrying about it.”

“Are you alone?”

“Oh no,” said Laurel brightly. “There is always someone around. But they are very kind. They generally stop talking when anyone is telephoning. Of course it would be pleasant if they had a phone in each room, but if they did I don’t imagine I’d be able to pay their price.”

“Yes, I see. It’s hard lines, but you always take everything like that cheerfully, don’t you? By the way, around five thirty tomorrow would you happen to be anywhere near Mark’s?”

They were talking enigmas now, and both of them knew it, but just the sound of each other’s voices was enough to satisfy.

“Why, I imagine so,” answered Laurel cheerfully. “Yes, I think that would be possible.”

“Okay. I might be able to give you an answer to one of your questions, you know.”

“I see! Well, that will be satisfactory to me, I guess. Sorry we couldn’t make it tonight though. It’s always hard to have to wait.”

“Yes, I know it,” agreed Pilgrim. “I see what you mean, and I sympathize with you. I’m sorry I can’t do anything about it tonight. If I were there, I might be tempted to wring somebody’s neck, but since I’m not, perhaps it’s just as well for the other fellow. But, by the way, have you still got your glory?”

“Oh yes, indeed, I have. I wouldn’t want to part with it, would you?”

“Not for all the kingdoms of this world. And say, doesn’t it seem rather trivial to be considering the daily things of life when there are so much more important things going on? I hadn’t thought of that before, had you? But I’m beginning to understand. It’s probably best to let the matter take its course.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure!” agreed Laurel with a giggly laugh. “You’re so amusing, you know. But, by the way, before you hang up, are you expecting to see Uncle Sam very soon? You
are?
How nice! And would you remember me to him? Give him my warmest love, please. He is such a dear! And I know he’ll be glad I thought to send my love to him. He’s always so appreciative!”

“You’re not by any means kidding me?” said Pilgrim.

“Oh no, Mr. Stranger, I’m perfectly serious. If you can just get this order through before that Crimson Mountain affair gets done, it will make the biggest difference in the world.”

“I’ll see,” said Pilgrim. “By all the signs, it looks as if I might make it after all. Well, so long! And I hope to have better news for you tomorrow night.”

“And say,” said Laurel, “what did you say that number was that I should call if I need any special service?”

He mumbled a number and a word, and then, “Make it snappy! So long till tomorrow. And come alone if possible. We don’t want any others in on this deal.”

“Of course not,” said Laurel indignantly, with an assumed grin. “Well, good night. I must get back to work. I’ll be seeing you.”

She hung up and vanished upstairs like a flash, not even looking toward the eager listener who had abandoned his newspaper and was watching her. It gave her great pleasure to turn her key in the lock so that the rattle of it was distinctly audible downstairs.

Then Laurel sat down and laughed, laughed till the tears came to her eyes, just to remember some of the silly things they had said to cover up the lilt in their voices. And then she pressed her fingers over her eyes, squeezing the tears away, and smiled over the great thought that had been conveyed through all that covert language they had used. “I love you! I love you,” every tone of his voice said it to her heart and filled her with a deep, sweet joy.

She had tried not to think too much about him all day, lest her heart would be too disappointed if he went away and forgot her. It hadn’t seemed that he would be like that, of course, that he would forget, but in spite of herself at times she had been reasoning with herself, trying to show herself that she had trusted an utter stranger too much. That he might get among the other fellows and forget all about their wonderful meeting, and the flashes of wonder that had passed from eye to eye. But he hadn’t forgotten, he
hadn’t forgotten!
He had called, and he had understood that she was trying to tell him someone was listening. And now she had something to look forward to tomorrow! Oh, it was not all hard and bleak, even if Phil Pilgrim had gone back to camp and she did not know yet what was coming next.

But down in the office the strange stolid man was sitting in the big chair staring off speculatively at nothing, trying to figure out what that telephone conversation might have meant. Was this beautiful girl possibly a spy or something, and had she been talking to a fifth columnist? Were they planning something that he must look into? It wasn’t going to be a simple proposition to judge by the way she acted when he asked her to take a walk. She wasn’t easy bait for a harmless flirtation. Perhaps she thought she had bigger quarry somewhere. He must take pains to find out who this girl was and, if possible, what she was doing here. Here in this boardinghouse to which his mentor, Mr. Dexter, had ordered him to come. She had mentioned Crimson Mountain. What did that mean? Was she aware of what was going on? He must look into this.

To that end, he sought out the landlady, when a little later she came in from the dining room and went behind the desk.

“Mrs. Price, who is that very attractive young lady you have boarding here? I think she said her name was Sheridan. Where is she from, and what is she doing here? She’s not trying to get a job as secretary, is she? Because I’d like to get in on the ground floor on that proposition if she’s in the running. She looks to me quite capable, and of course, she’s easy to look at.”

The cunning look came into Mrs. Price’s eyes. “Oh, Miss Sheridan, you mean! Yes, She’s quite attractive. She’s real aristocracy, she is. She used to live around here when her father was living. They were wealthy people and lived in one of the best houses in town. Yes, she certainly is smart, and she oughtta be. She’s had advantages, she has. Her folks were real socialites, and she went ta college herself after her pa died. They tell me he lost most of his money before he was took, and I guess she ain’t got so much now. Anyways, she took a job. she’s teaching in the high school. Ain’t it awful the way changes come to the best of folks, and you can’t tell from one day ta the next where you’re gonta be hit! I always say it’s best ta save when ya can. But then, most any bank can break. It’s hard ta know what ta do. But she is an attractive girl. I don’t blame ya fer admiring her.”

“And you don’t think she’d like ta be a secretary?”

“I don’t know nothing about it,” said the landlady.

“Does she understand shorthand and typing?”

“I don’t know nothing about it, I tell ya,” said Mrs. Price, “and I can’t be bothered like this. Ef ya wantta know, why don’t ya ask
her?
I got my work ta do.”

Byrger went out a little later and walked around the block, taking in a good view of every side of the boardinghouse and observing that there was a light in the window of the room that Miss Sheridan occupied, but the shade was drawn down tight. He could not even see if she was moving around the room. Then he stood for a long time at the gate, looking off toward Crimson Mountain and seeing in imagination the scene of his coming activities.