The Max Brand Megapack (298 page)

Ephraim had folded his arms with dignity, and now he turned a reproving glance upon his companion.

“Is it permitted?” he asked coldly.

The joy went out of the face of Jacob.

“What harm?”

“Is it permitted?” insisted Ephraim.

“He will not ask,” argued Jacob dubiously.

“He knows without asking.”

At this, very slowly and unwillingly, Jacob put the cigarette back into the hand of Ben Connor. A dozen curious questions came into the mind of the gambler, but he decided wisely to change the subject.

“The boss gives you orders not to leave, eh?” he went on. “Not a step outside the gate? What’s the idea?”

“This thing was true in the time of the old masters. Only Joseph can leave the valley,” Ephraim answered.

“And you don’t know why no one is allowed inside the valley?”

“I have never asked,” said Ephraim.

Connor smoked fiercely, peering into the fire.

“Well,” he said at length, “you see my troubles? I can’t get into the valley to rest up. I have to turn around and try to cross those mountains.”

“Yes,” nodded Ephraim.

“But the horse and mule will never make it over the rocks. I’ll have to leave them behind or stay and starve with them.”

“That is true.”

“Rather than do that,” said Connor, fencing for an opening, “I’d leave the poor devils here to live in the valley.”

“That cannot be. No animals are allowed to enter.”

“What? You’d allow this pair to die at the gate of the valley?”

“No; I should lead them first into the mountains.”

“This is incredible! But I tell you, this horse is my friend—I can’t desert him!”

He fumbled in his coat pocket and then stretched out his hand toward the chestnut; the horse hobbled a few steps nearer and nosed the palm of it expectantly.

“So!” muttered Ephraim, and shaded his eyes with his hand to look. He settled back and said in a different voice: “The horse loves you; it is said.”

“I put the matter squarely up to you,” said Connor. “You see how I stand. Give me your advice!”

Ephraim protested. “No, no! I cannot advise you. I know nothing of what goes on out yonder. Nevertheless—”

He broke off, for Connor was lighting another cigarette from the butt of the first one, and Ephraim paused to watch, nodding with a sort of vicarious pleasure as he saw Connor inhale deeply and then blow out a thin drift of smoke.

“You were about to say something else when I lighted this.”

“Yes, I was about to say that I could not advise you, but I can send to Joseph. He is near us now.”

“By all means send to Joseph.”

“Jacob,” ordered the keeper of the gate, “go to Joseph and tell him what has happened.”

The other nodded, and then whistled a long note that drifted up the ravine. Afterward there was no answer, but Jacob remained facing expectantly toward the inside of the valley and presently Connor heard a sound that made his heart leap, the rhythmic hoofbeats of a galloping horse; and even in the darkness the long interval between impacts told him something of the animal’s gait. Then into the circle of the firelight broke a gray horse with his tail high, his mane fluttering. He brought his gallop to a mincing trot and came straight toward Jacob, but a yard away he stopped and leaped catlike to one side; with head tossed high he stared at Connor.

Cold sweat stood on the forehead of the gambler, for it was like something he had seen, something he remembered; all his dreams of what a horse should be, come true.

Ephraim was saying sternly:

“In my household the colts are taught better manners, Jacob.”

And Jacob answered, greatly perturbed: “There is a wild spirit in all the sons of Harith.”

“It is Cassim, is it not?” asked Ephraim.

“Peace, fool!” said Jacob to the stallion, and the horse came and stood behind him, still watching the stranger over the shoulder of his master.

“Years dim your eyes, Ephraim,” he continued. “This is not Cassim and he is not the height of Cassim by an inch. No, it is Abra, the son of Hira, who was the daughter of Harith.”

He smiled complacently upon Ephraim, nodding his ancient head, and Ephraim frowned.

“It is true that my eyes are not as young as yours, Jacob; but the horses of my household are taught to stand when they are spoken to and not dance like foolish children.”

This last reproof was called forth by the continual weaving back and forth of the stallion as he looked at Connor, first from one side of Jacob and then from the other. The old man now turned with a raised hand.

“Stand!” he ordered.

The stallion jerked up his head and became rigid.

“A sharp temper makes a horse without heart,” said the oracular Ephraim.

Jacob scowled, and rolling his eyes angrily, searched for a reply; but he found none. Ephraim clasped one knee tightly in both hands, and weaving his head a little from side to side, delighted in his triumph.

“And the hand which is raised,” went on the tormentor, “should always fall.”

He was apparently quoting from an authority against which there was no appeal; now he concluded:

“Threats are for children, and yearlings; but a grown horse is above them.”

“The spirit of Harith has returned in Abra,” said Jacob gloomily. “From that month of April when he was foaled he has been a trial and a burden; yes, if even a cloud blows over the moon he comes to my window and calls me. There was never such a horse since Harith. However, he shall make amends. Abra!”

The stallion stepped nearer and halted, alert.

“Go to him, fool. Go to the stranger and give him your head. Quick!”

The gray horse turned, hesitated, and then came straight to Connor, very slowly; there he bowed his head and dropped his muzzle on the knee of the white man, but all the while his eyes flared at the strange face in terror. Jacob turned a proud smile upon Ephraim, and the latter nodded.

“It is a good colt,” he admitted. “His heart is right, and in time he may grow to some worth.”

Once more Connor fumbled in his pocket.

“Steady,” he said, looking squarely into the great, bright eyes. “Steady, boy.”

He put his hand under the nose of the stallion.

“It’s a new smell, but little different.”

Abra snorted softly, but though he shook he dared not move. The gambler, with a side glance, saw the two men watching intently.

“Ah,” said Connor, “you have pulled against a headstall here, eh?”

He touched an old scar on the cheek of the horse, and Abra closed his eyes, but opened them again when he discovered that no harm was done to him by the tips of those gentle fingers.

“You may let him have his head again,” said Connor. “He will not leave me now until he is ordered.”

“So?” exclaimed Jacob. “We shall see! Enough Abra!”

The gray tossed up his head at that word, but after he had taken one step he returned and touched the back of the white man’s hand, snuffed at his shoulder and at his hat and then stood with pricking ears. A soft exclamation came in unison from Jacob and Ephraim.

“I have never seen it before,” muttered Jacob. “To see it, one would say he was a son of Julanda.”

“It is my teaching and not the blood of Julanda that gives my horses manners,” corrected Ephraim. “However, if I might look in the hand of the stranger—”

“There is nothing in it,” answered Connor, smiling, and he held out both empty palms. “All horses are like this with me.”

“Is it true?” they murmured together.

“Yes; I don’t know why. But you were going to bring Joseph.”

“Ah,” said Ephraim, shaking his head. “I had almost forgotten. Hurry, Jacob; but if you will take my advice in the matter you will teach your colts fewer tricks and more sound sense.”

The other grunted, and putting his hand on the withers of Abra, he leaped to the back with the lightness of a strong youth. A motion of his hand sent the gray into a gallop that shot them through the gate into darkness.

CHA
PTER NINE

That faint and rhythmic chiming which Connor had heard from the mountain when he first saw the valley now came again through the gate, more clearly. There was something familiar about the sound—yet Connor could not place it.

“Did you mark?” said Ephraim, shaking his head. “Did you see the colt shy at the white rock as he ran? In my household that could never happen; and yet Jacob does well enough, for the blood of Harith is as stubborn as old oak and wild as a wolf. But your gift, sir”—and here he turned with much respect toward Connor—“is a great one. I have never seen Harith’s sons come to a man as Abra came to you.”

He was surprised to see the stranger staring toward the gate as if he watched a ghost.

“He did not gallop,” said Connor presently, and his voice faltered. “He flowed. He poured himself through the air.”

He swept a hand across his forehead and with great effort calmed the muscles of his face.

“Are there more horses like that in the valley?”

Ephraim hesitated, for there was such a glittering hunger in the eyes of this stranger that it abashed him. Vanity, however, brushed scruple away.

“More like Abra in the valley? So!”

He seemed to hunt for superlatives with which to overwhelm his questioner.

“The worst in my household is Tabari, the daughter of Numan, and she was foaled lame in the left foreleg. But if ten like Abra were placed in one corral and Tabari in the other, a wise man would give the ten and take the one and render thanks that such good fortune had come his way.”

“Is it possible?” exclaimed Connor in that same, small, choked voice.

“I speak calmly,” said Ephraim gravely. He added with some hesitation: “But if I must tell the whole truth, I shall admit that my household is not like the household of the blood of Rustir. Just as she was the queen of horses, so those of her blood are above other horses as the master is above me. Yet, if ten like Tabari were placed in one corral and the stallion Glani were placed in another, I suppose that a wise man would give the ten for the one.”

He added with a sigh: “But I should not have such wisdom.”

Connor smiled.

“And at that rate it would require a hundred like Abra to buy Glani?” he asked.

“A thousand,” said the old man instantly, “and then the full price would not be paid. I have already asked the master to cross him with Hira. He will answer me soon; one touch of Glani’s blood will lift the strain in my household. My colts are good mettle—but the fire, the soul of Glani!”

He bowed his head.

“Ah, they are coming, Jacob and Joseph.”

His keen ear heard a sound which was not audible to Connor for several moments; then two gray horses swept into the circle of the firelight, and from the mare which led Abra by several yards, a huge Negro dismounted.

“If you are Joseph,” the gambler said, “I suppose Jacob has already told you about me. My name is Connor. I’ve been hunting up the Girard River, struck across the mountains yonder, and here I’ve brought up with a lame mule and a lamer horse. The point is that I want to rest up in your valley until my animals can go on. Is it possible?”

While he spoke the giant watched him with eyes which squinted in their intensity, but when he ended Joseph answered not a word. Connor remembered now what he had heard of the deaf mute who alone went back and forth from the Garden of Eden, and his heart fell. It was talking to a face of stone.

In the meantime Joseph continued to examine the stranger. From head to foot the little, bright eyes moved, leisurely, and Connor grew hot as he endured it. When the survey was completed to his own satisfaction, Joseph went first to the mule and next to the horse, lifting their feet one by one, then running his hands over their legs. After this he turned to Jacob and his great fingers glided through the characters of the language of the mute, bunching, knotting, darting out in a fluid swiftness.

“Joseph says,” translated Ephraim, “that your horse is lame, but that he can climb the hills if you go on foot; the mule is not lame at all, but is pretending, because he is tired.”

An oath rose up in the throat of Connor, but he checked it against his teeth and smiled at Joseph. The big man hissed through his teeth and his mare sprang to his side. She was not more than fourteen two, and slenderly made compared with Abra, yet she had borne the great bulk of Joseph with ease before, and now she was apparently ready to carry him again. He dropped his hand upon her withers, and facing Connor, swept his arm out in a broad gesture of dismissal. Vaguely the gambler noticed this, but his real interest centered on the form of the mare. He was seeing her not with that unwieldy bulk crushing her back, but with a fly-weight jockey mounted on a racing pad riding her past the grand stand. He was hearing the odds which the bookies offered; he was watching those odds drop by leaps and bounds as he hammered away at them, betting in lumps of hundreds and five hundreds, staking his fortune on his first “sure thing.” Even as she stood passive, tossing her nose, he knew her speed, and it took his breath. Abra himself would walk away from ordinary company, but this gray mare—slowly Connor looked back to the face of Joseph and saw that the giant was waiting to see his command obeyed. For the first time he noted the cartridge belt strung across the fellow’s gaunt middle and the holster in which pulled the weight of a forty-five. In case of doubt, here was a cogent reason to hurry a loiterer. To persuade the giant would never have been easy, but to persuade him through an interpreter made the affair impossible. Struggling for a loophole of escape, he absentmindedly unsnapped from his watch chain the little ivory talisman, the ape head, and commenced to finger it. It had been his constant companion for years and in a measure he connected his luck with it.

“My friend,” said Connor to Ephraim, “you see my position? But if I can’t do better is there any objection to my using this fire of yours for cooking? The fire, at least, is outside the valley.”

Even this question Ephraim apparently did not feel qualified to answer. He turned first to the gigantic mute and conversed with him at some length; his own fluent signals were answered by single movements on the part of Joseph, and Connor recognized the signs of dissent.