tales of trail and town- 第33部分

mademoiselle　consoles　herself！〃



Monsieur　Ribaud　never　knew　how　near　he　was　to　the　white　road　below

the　railing　at　that　particular　moment。　　Luckily；　Dick　controlled

himself；　and　wisely；　as　Monsieur　Ribaud's　next　sentence　showed　him。



〃A　romance；an　innocent；　foolish　liaison；　if　you　like；but；　all

the　same；　if　known　of　a　Mademoiselle　de　Fontonelles；　a　compromising；

a　fatal　entanglement。　　There　you　are。　　Look！　for　this；　then；　all

this　story　of　cock　and　bulls　and　spirits！　　Mademoiselle　has　been

discovered　with　her　lover　by　some　one。　　This　pretty　story　shall　stop

their　mouths！〃



〃But　wot；〃　said　Dick　brusquely；　〃wot　if　the　girl　was　really　skeert

at　something　she'd　seen；　and　fainted　dead　away；　as　she　said　she

did；andand〃he　hesitated〃some　stranger　came　along　and　picked

her　up？〃



Monsieur　Ribaud　looked　at　him　pityingly。



〃A　Mademoiselle　de　Fontonelle　is　picked　up　by　her　servants；　by　her

family；　but　not　by　the　young　man　in　the　woods；　alone。　　It　is　even

more　compromising！〃



〃Do　you　mean　to　say；〃　said　Dick　furiously；　〃that　the　ragpickers　and

sneaks　that　wade　around　in　the　slumgallion　of　this　country　would

dare　to　spatter　that　young　gal？〃



〃I　mean　to　say；　yes；assuredly；　positively　yes！〃　said　Ribaud；

rubbing　his　hands　with　a　certain　satisfaction　at　Dick's　fury。　　〃For

you　comprehend　not　the　position　of　la　jeune　fille　in　all　France！

Ah！　in　America　the　young　lady　she　go　everywhere　alone；　I　have　seen

herpretty；　charming；　fascinatingalone　with　the　young　man。　　But

here；　no；　never！　　Regard　me；　my　friend。　　The　French　mother；　she　say

to　her　daughter's　fiance；　'Look！　there　is　my　daughter。　　She　has

never　been　alone　with　a　young　man　for　five　minutes；not　even　with

you。　　Take　her　for　your　wife！'　　It　is　monstrous！　it　is　impossible！

it　is　so！〃



There　was　a　silence　of　a　few　minutes；　and　Dick　looked　blankly　at

the　iron　gates　of　the　park　of　Fontonelles。　　Then　he　said：　〃Give　me

a　cigar。〃



Monsieur　Ribaud　instantly　produced　his　cigar　case。　　Dick　took　a

cigar；　but　waved　aside　the　proffered　match；　and　entering　the　cafe；

took　from　his　pocket　the　letter　to　Mademoiselle　de　Fontonelles；

twisted　it　in　a　spiral；　lighted　it　at　a　candle；　lit　his　cigar　with

it；　and　returning　to　the　veranda　held　it　in　his　hand　until　the　last

ashes　dropped　on　the　floor。　　Then　he　said；　gravely；　to　Ribaud：



〃You've　treated　me　like　a　white　man；　Frenchy；　and　I　ain't　goin'

back　on　yerthough　your　ways　ain't　my　waysnohow；　but　I　reckon　in

this　yer　matter　at　the　shotto　you're　a　little　too　previous！　　For

though　I　don't　as　a　gin'ral　thing　take　stock　in　ghosts；　I　BELIEVE

EVERY　WORD　THAT　THEM　FOLK　SAID　UP　THAR。　　And；〃　he　added；　leaning

his　hand　somewhat　heavily　on　Ribaud's　shoulder；　〃if　you're　the　man

I　take　you　for；　you'll　believe　it　too！　　And　if　that　chap；　Armand　de

Fontonelles；　hadn't　hev　picked　up　that　gal　at　that　moment；　he　would

hev　deserved　to　roast　in　hell　another　three　hundred　years！　　That's

why　I　believe　her　story。　　So　you'll　let　these　yer　Fontonelles　keep

their　ghosts　for　all　they're　worth；　and　when　you　next　feel　inclined

to　talk　about　that　girl's　LOVER；　you'll　think　of　me；　and　shut　your

head！　　You　hear　me；　Frenchy；　I'm　shoutin'！　　And　don't　you　forget　it！〃



Nevertheless；　early　the　next　morning；　Monsieur　Ribaud　accompanied

his　guest　to　the　railway　station；　and　parted　from　him　with　great

effusion。　　On　his　way　back　an　old…fashioned　carriage　with　a

postilion　passed　him。　　At　a　sign　from　its　occupant；　the　postilion

pulled　up；　and　Monsieur　Ribaud；　bowing　to　the　dust；　approached　the

window；　and　the　pale；　stern　face　of　a　dignified；　white…haired　woman

of　sixty　that　looked　from　it。



〃Has　he　gone？〃　said　the　lady。



〃Assuredly；　madame；　I　was　with　him　at　the　station。〃



〃And　you　think　no　one　saw　him？〃



〃No　one；　madame；　but　myself。〃



〃Andwhat　kind　of　a　man　was　he？〃



Monsieur　Ribaud　lifted　his　shoulders；　threw　out　his　hands

despairingly；　yet　with　a　world　of　significance；　and　said：



〃An　American。〃



〃Ah！〃



The　carriage　drove　on　and　entered　the　gates　of　the　chateau。　　And

Monsieur　Ribaud；　cafe　proprietor　and　Social　Democrat；　straightened

himself　in　the　dust　and　shook　his　fist　after　it。







A　NIGHT　ON　THE　DIVIDE





With　the　lulling　of　the　wind　towards　evening　it　came　on　to　snow

heavily；　in　straight；　quickly　succeeding　flakes；　dropping　like

white　lances　from　the　sky。　　This　was　followed　by　the　usual　Sierran

phenomenon。　　The　deep　gorge；　which；　as　the　sun　went　down；　had

lapsed　into　darkness；　presently　began　to　reappear；　at　first　the

vanished　trail　came　back　as　a　vividly　whitening　streak　before　them；

then　the　larches　and　pines　that　ascended　from　it　like　buttresses

against　the　hillsides　glimmered　in　ghostly　distinctness；　until　at

last　the　two　slopes　curved　out　of　the　darkness　as　if　hewn　in

marble。　　For　the　sudden　storm；　which　extended　scarcely　two　miles；

had　left　no　trace　upon　the　steep　granite　face　of　the　high　cliffs

above；　the　snow；　slipping　silently　from　them；　left　them　still

hidden　in　the　obscurity　of　night。　　In　the　vanished　landscape　the

gorge　alone　stood　out；　set　in　a　chaos　of　cloud　and　storm　through

which　the　moonbeams　struggled　ineffectually。



It　was　this　unexpected　sight　which　burst　upon　the　occupants　of　a

large　covered　〃station　wagon〃　who　had　chanced　upon　the　lower　end　of

the　gorge。　　Coming　from　a　still　lower　altitude；　they　had　known

nothing　of　the　storm；　which　had　momentarily　ceased；　but　had　left　a

record　of　its　intensity　in　nearly　two　feet　of　snow。　　For　some

moments　the　horses　floundered　and　struggled　on；　in　what　the

travelers　believed　to　be　some　old　forgotten　drift　or　avalanche；

until　the　extent　and　freshness　of　the　fall　became　apparent。　　To　add

to　their　difficulties；　the　storm　recommenced；　and　not　comprehending

its　real　character　and　limit；　they　did　not　dare　to　attempt　to

return　the　way　they　came。　　To　go　on；　however；　was　impossible。　　In

this　quandary　they　looked　about　them　in　vain　for　some　other　exit

from　the　gorge。　　The　sides　of　that　gigantic　white　furrow　terminated

in　darkness。　　Hemmed　in　from　the　world　in　all　directions；　it　might

have　been　their　tomb。



But　although　THEY　could　see　nothing　beyond　their　prison　walls；　they

themselves　were　perfectly　visible　from　the　heights　above　them。　　And

Jack　Tenbrook；　quartz　miner；　who　was　sinking　a　tunnel　in　the　rocky

ledge　of　shelf　above　the　gorge；　stepping　out　from　his　cabin　at　ten

o'clock　to　take　a　look　at　the　weather　before　turning　in；　could

observe　quite　distinctly　the　outline　of　the　black　wagon；　the

floundering　horses；　and　the　crouching　figures　by　their　side；

scarcely　larger　than　pygmies　on　the　white　surface　of　the　snow；　six

hundred　feet　below　him。　　Jack　had　courage　and　strength；　and　the

good　humor　that　accompanies　them；　but　he　contented　himself　for　a

few　moments　with　lazily　observing　the　travelers'　discomfiture。　　He

had　taken　in　the　situation　with　a　glance；　he　would　have　helped　a

brother　miner　or　mountaineer；　although　he　knew　that　it　could　only

have　been　drink　or　bravado　that　brought　HIM　into　the　gorge　in　a

snowstorm；　but　it　was　very　evident　that　these　were　〃greenhorns；〃　or

eastern　tourists；　and　it　served　their　stupidity　and　arrogance

right！　　He　remembered　also　how　he；　having　once　helped　an　Eastern

visitor　catch　the　mustang　that　had　〃bucked〃　him；　had　been　called

〃my　man；〃　and　presented　with　five　dollars；　he　recalled　how　he　had

once　spread　the　humble　resources　of　his　cabin　before　some　straying

members　of　the　San　Francisco　party　who　were　〃opening〃　the　new

railroad；　and　heard　the　audible　wonder　of　a　lady　that　a　civilized

being　could　live　so　〃coarsely〃？　　With　these　recollections　in　his

mind；　he　managed　to　survey　the　distant　struggling　horses　with　a

fine　sense　of　humor；　not　unmixed　with　self…righteousness。　　There

was　no　real　danger　in　the　situation；　it　meant　at　the　worst　a　delay

and　a　camping　in　the　snow　till　morning；　when　he　would　go　down　to

their　assistance。　　They　had　a　spacious　traveling　equipage；　and

were；　no　doubt；　well　supplied　with　furs；　robes；　and　provisions　for

a　several　hours'　journey；　his　own　pork　barrel　was　quite　empty；　and

his　blankets　worn。　　He　half　smiled；　extended　his　long　arms　in　a

decided　yawn；　and　turned　back　into　his　cabin　to　go　to　bed。　　Then　he

cast　a　final　glance　around　the　interior。　　Everything　was　all　right；

his　loaded　rifle　stood　against　the　wall；　he　had　just　raked　ashes

over　the　embers　of　his　fire　to　keep　it　intact　till　morning。　　Only

one　thing　slightly　troubled　him；　a　grizzly　bear；　two…thirds　grown；

but　only　half　tamed；　which　had　been　given　to　him　by　a　young　lady

named　〃Miggles；〃　when　that　charming　and　historic　girl　had　decided

to　accompany　her　paralytic　lover　to　the　San　Francisco　hospital；　was

missing　that　evening。　　It　had　been　its　regular　habit　to　come　to　the

door　every　night　for　some　sweet　biscuit　or　sugar　before　going　to

its　lair　in　the　underbrush　behind　the　cabin。　　Everybody　knew　it

along　the　length　and　breadth　of　Hemlock　Ridge；　as　well　as　the