to the last man-第16节

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A　rugged　yellow　point　of　the　Rim　stood　somewhat　higher　than　the　spot
Ellen　wanted　to　watch。　　A　dense　thicket　of　jack　pines　grew　to　the
very　edge。　　It　afforded　an　ambush　that　even　the　Indian　eyes　Jean
Isbel　was　credited　with　could　never　penetrate。　　Moreover；　if　by
accident　she　made　a　noise　and　excited　suspicion；　she　could　retreat
unobserved　and　hide　in　the　huge　rocks　below　the　Rim；　where　a　ferret
could　not　locate　her。

With　her　plan　decided　upon；　Ellen　had　nothing　to　do　but　wait；
so　she　repaired　to　the　other　side　　of　the　pine　thicket　and　to　the
edge　of　the　Rim　where　she　could　watch　and　listen。　　She　knew　that
long　before　she　saw　Isbel　she　would　hear　his　horse。　　It　was　altogether
unlikely　that　he　would　come　on　foot。

〃Shore；　Ellen　Jorth；　y'u're　a　queer　girl；〃　she　mused。　　〃I　reckon　I
wasn't　well　acquainted　with　y'u。〃

Beneath　her　yawned　a　wonderful　deep　canyon；　rugged　and　rocky　with　but
few　pines　on　the　north　slope；　thick　with　dark　green　timber　on　the
south　slope。　　Yellow　and　gray　crags；　like　turreted　castles；　stood　up
out　of　the　sloping　forest　on　the　side　opposite　her。　　The　trees　were　
all　sharp；　spear　pointed。　　Patches　of　light　green　aspens　showed
strikingly　against　the　dense　black。　　The　great　slope　beneath　Ellen
was　serrated　with　narrow；　deep　gorges；　almost　canyons　in　themselves。
Shadows　alternated　with　clear　bright　spaces。　　The　mile…wide　mouth　of
the　canyon　opened　upon　the　Basin；　down　into　a　world　of　wild　timbered
ranges　and　ravines；　valleys　and　hills；　that　rolled　and　tumbled　in
dark…green　waves　to　the　Sierra　Anchas。

But　for　once　Ellen　seemed　singularly　unresponsive　to　this　panorama
of　wildness　and　grandeur。　　Her　ears　were　like　those　of　a　listening　deer；
and　her　eyes　continually　reverted　to　the　open　places　along　the　Rim。
At　first；　in　her　excitement；　time　flew　by。　　Gradually；　however；　as　
the　sun　moved　westward；　she　began　to　be　restless。　　The　soft　thud　of
dropping　pine　cones；　the　rustling　of　squirrels　up　and　down　the
shaggy…barked　spruces；　the　cracking　of　weathered　bits　of　rock；
these　caught　her　keen　ears　many　times　and　brought　her　up　erect　and
thrilling。　　Finally　she　heard　a　sound　which　resembled　that　of　an
unshod　hoof　on　stone。　　Stealthily　then　she　took　her　rifle　and　slipped
back　through　the　pine　thicket　to　the　spot　she　had　chosen。　　The　little
pines　were　so　close　together　that　she　had　to　crawl　between　their　trunks。
The　ground　was　covered　with　a　soft　bed　of　pine　needles；　brown　and
fragrant。　　In　her　hurry　she　pricked　her　ungloved　hand　on　a　sharp　pine
cone　and　drew　the　blood。　　She　sucked　the　tiny　wound。　　〃Shore　I'm
wonderin'　if　that's　a　bad　omen；〃　she　muttered；　darkly　thoughtful。
Then　she　resumed　her　sinuous　approach　to　the　edge　of　the　thicket；
and　presently　reached　it。

Ellen　lay　flat　a　moment　to　recover　her　breath；　then　raised　herself　on
her　elbows。　　Through　an　opening　in　the　fringe　of　buck　brush　she　could
plainly　see　the　promontory　where　she　had　stood　with　Jean　Isbel；　and
also　the　approaches　by　which　he　might　come。　　Rather　nervously　she　
realized　that　her　covert　was　hardly　more　than　a　hundred　feet　from
the　promontory。　　It　was　imperative　that　she　be　absolutely　silent。
Her　eyes　searched　the　openings　along　the　Rim。　　The　gray　form　of　a
deer　crossed　one　of　these；　and　she　concluded　it　had　made　the　sound
she　had　heard。　　Then　she　lay　down　more　comfortably　and　waited。
Resolutely　she　held；　as　much　as　possible；　to　her　sensorial　perceptions。
The　meaning　of　Ellen　Jorth　lying　in　ambush　just　to　see　an　Isbel　was　a
conundrum　she　refused　to　ponder　in　the　present。　　She　was　doing　it；　and
the　physical　act　had　its　fascination。　　Her　ears；　attuned　to　all　the
sounds　of　the　lonely　forest；　caught　them　and　arranged　them　according
to　her　knowledge　of　woodcraft。

A　long　hour　passed　by。　　The　sun　had　slanted　to　a　point　halfway　between
the　zenith　and　the　horizon。　　Suddenly　a　thought　confronted　Ellen　Jorth：
〃He's　not　comin'；〃　she　whispered。　　The　instant　that　idea　presented
itself　she　felt　a　blank　sense　of　loss；　a　vague　regretsomething　that
must　have　been　disappointment。　　Unprepared　for　this；　she　was　held　by
surprise　for　a　moment；　and　then　she　was　stunned。　　Her　spirit；　swift
and　rebellious；　had　no　time　to　rise　in　her　defense。　　She　was　a　lonely；
guilty；　miserable　girl；　too　weak　for　pride　to　uphold；　too　fluctuating
to　know　her　real　self。　　She　stretched　there；　burying　her　face　in　the
pine　needles；　digging　her　fingers　into　them；　wanting　nothing　so　much
as　that　they　might　hide　her。　　The　moment　was　incomprehensible　to　Ellen；
and　utterly　intolerable。　　The　sharp　pine　needles；　piercing　her　wrists　
and　cheeks；　and　her　hot　heaving　breast；　seemed　to　give　her　exquisite
relief。

The　shrill　snort　of　a　horse　sounded　near　at　hand。　　With　a　shock　Ellen's
body　stiffened。　　Then　she　　quivered　a　little　and　her　feelings　underwent
swift　change。　　Cautiously　and　noiselessly　she　raised　herself　upon　her
elbows　and　peeped　through　the　opening　in　the　brush。　　She　saw　a　man
tying　a　horse　to　a　bush　somewhat　back　from　the　Rim。　　Drawing　a　rifle
from　its　saddle　sheath　he　threw　it　in　the　hollow　of　his　arm　and　walked
to　the　edge　of　the　precipice。　　He　gazed　away　across　the　Basin　and
appeared　lost　in　contemplation　or　thought。　　Then　he　turned　to　look
back　into　the　forest；　as　if　he　expected　some　one。

Ellen　recognized　the　lithe　figure；　the　dark　face　so　like　an　Indian's。
It　was　Isbel。　　He　had　come。　　Somehow　his　coming　seemed　wonderful　and
terrible。　　Ellen　shook　as　she　leaned　on　her　elbows。　　Jean　Isbel；　true
to　his　word；　in　spite　of　her　scorn；　had　come　back　to　see　her。　　The　fact　
seemed　monstrous。　　He　was　an　enemy　of　her　father。　　Long　had　range　rumor
been　bandied　from　lip　to　lipold　Gass　Isbel　had　sent　for　his　Indian
son　to　fight　the　Jorths。　　Jean　Isbelson　of　a　Texanunerring　shot
peerless　trackera　bad　and　dangerous　man！　　Then　there　flashed　over
Ellen　a　burning　thoughtif　it　were　true；　if　he　was　an　enemy　of　her
father's；　if　a　fight　between　Jorth　and　Isbel　was　inevitable；　she　ought
to　kill　this　Jean　Isbel　right　there　in　his　tracks　as　he　boldly　and
confidently　waited　for　her。　　Fool　he　was　to　think　she　would　come。
Ellen　sank　down　and　dropped　her　head　until　the　strange　tremor　of　her
arms　ceased。　　That　dark　and　grim　flash　of　thought　retreated。　　She　had　
not　come　to　murder　a　man　from　ambush；　but　only　to　watch　him；　to　try　to
see　what　he　meant；　what　he　thought；　to　allay　a　strange　curiosity。

After　a　while　she　looked　again。　　Isbel　was　sitting　on　an　upheaved
section　of　the　Rim；　in　a　comfortable　position　from　which　he　could
watch　the　openings　in　the　forest　and　gaze　as　well　across　the　west
curve　of　the　Basin　to　the　Mazatzals。　　He　had　composed　himself　to　wait。
He　was　clad　in　a　buckskin　suit；　rather　new；　and　it　certainly　showed
off　to　advantage；　compared　with　the　ragged　and　soiled　apparel　Ellen
remembered。　　He　did　not　look　so　large。　　Ellen　was　used　to　the　long；
lean；　rangy　Arizonians　and　Texans。　　This　man　was　built　differently。
He　had　the　widest　shoulders　of　any　man　she　had　ever　seen；　and　they
made　him　appear　rather　short。　　But　his　lithe；　powerful　limbs　proved
he　was　not　short。　　Whenever　he　moved　the　muscles　rippled。　　His　hands
were　clasped　round　a　kneebrown；　sinewy　hands；　very　broad；　and　fitting
the　thick　muscular　wrists。　　His　collar　was　open；　and　he　did　not　wear　a
scarf；　as　did　the　men　Ellen　knew。　　Then　her　intense　curiosity　at　last
brought　her　steady　gaze　to　Jean　Isbel's　head　and　face。　　He　wore　a　cap；
evidently　of　some　thin　fur。　　His　hair　was　straight　and　short；　and　in
color　a　dead　raven　black。　　His　complexion　was　dark；　clear　tan；　with　no
trace　of　red。　　He　did　not　have　the　prominent　cheek　bones　nor　the
high…bridged　nose　usual　with　white　men　who　were　part　Indian。　　Still
he　had　the　Indian　look。　　Ellen　caught　that　in　the　dark；　intent；
piercing　eyes；　in　the　wide；　level；　thoughtful　brows；　in　the　stern
impassiveness　of　his　smooth　face。　　He　had　a　straight；　sharp…cut　profile。

Ellen　whispered　to　herself：　〃I　saw　him　right　the　other　day。　　Only；
I'd　not　admit　it。　。　。　。　The　finest…lookin'　man　I　ever　saw　in　my　life
is　a　damned　Isbel！　　Was　that　what　I　come　out　heah　for？〃

She　lowered　herself　once　more　and；　folding　her　arms　under　her　breast；
she　reclined　comfortably　on　them；　and　searched　out　a　smaller　peephole
from　which　she　could　spy　upon　Isbel。　　And　as　she　watched　him　the　new
and　perplexing　side　of　her　mind　waxed　busier。　　Why　had　he　come　back？　
What　did　he　want　of　her？　　Acquaintance；　friendship；　was　impossible　for
them。　　He　had　been　respectful；　deferential　toward　her；　in　a　way　that
had　strangely　pleased；　until　the　surprising　moment　when　he　had　kissed
her。　　That　had　only　disrupted　her　rather　dreamy　pleasure　in　a　situation
she　had　not　experienced　before。　　All　the　men　she　had　met　in　this　wild
country　were　rough　and　bold；　most　of　them　had　wanted　to　marry　her；
and；　failing　that；　they　had　persisted　in　amorous　attentions　not
particularly　flattering　or　honorable。　　They　were　a　bad　lot。　　And
contact　with　them　had　dulled　some　of　her　sensibilities。　　But　this
Jean　Isbel　had　seemed　a　gentleman。　　She　struggled　to　be　fair；　trying
to　forget　her　antipathy；　as　much　to　understand　herself　as　to　give　him
due　credit。　　True；　he　had　kissed　her；　crudely　and　forcibly。　　But　that
kiss　had　not　been　an　insult。　　Ellen's　finer　f