options-第15章

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〃She　is　meant　for　higher　things；〃　said　I；　repeating　his　phrase。

〃Can　there　be　anything　higher；〃　asked　Goodloe；　〃than　to　dwell　in　the　　society　of　the　classics；　to　live　in　the　atmosphere　of　learning　and　　culture？　　You　have　often　decried　education。　　What　of　your　wasted　　efforts　through　your　ignorance　of　simple　mathematics？　　How　soon　would　　you　have　found　your　treasure　if　my　knowledge　had　not　shown　you　your　　error？〃

〃We'll　take　a　look　at　those　hills　across　the　river　first；〃　said　I；　　〃and　see　what　we　find。　　I　am　still　doubtful　about　variations。　　I　have　　been　brought　up　to　believe　that　the　needle　is　true　to　the　pole。〃

The　next　morning　was　a　bright　June　one。　　We　were　up　early　and　had　　breakfast。　　Goodloe　was　charmed。　　He　recitedKeats；　I　think　it　was；　　and　Kelly　or　Shelleywhile　I　broiled　the　bacon。　　We　were　getting　　ready　to　cross　the　river；　which　was　little　more　than　a　shallow　creek　　there；　and　explore　the　many　sharp…peaked　cedar…covered　hills　on　the　　other　side。

〃My　good　Ulysses；〃　said　Goodloe；　slapping　me　on　the　shoulder　while　I　　was　washing　the　tin　breakfast…plates；　〃let　me　see　the　enchanted　　document　once　more。　　I　believe　it　gives　directions　for　climbing　the　　hill　shaped　like　a　pack…saddle。　　I　never　saw　a　pack…saddle。　　What　is　　it　like；　Jim？〃

〃Score　one　against　culture；〃　said　I。　　〃I'll　know　it　when　I　see　it。〃

Goodloe　was　looking　at　old　Rundle's　document　when　he　ripped　out　a　most　　uncollegiate　swear…word。

〃Come　here；〃　he　said；　holding　the　paper　up　against　the　sunlight。　　　〃Look　at　that；〃　he　said；　laying　his　finger　against　it。

On　the　blue　papera　thing　I　had　never　noticed　beforeI　saw　stand　out　　in　white　letters　the　word　and　figures　：　〃Malvern；　1898。〃

〃What　about　it？〃　I　asked。

〃It's　the　water…mark；〃　said　Goodloe。　　〃The　paper　was　manufactured　in　　1898。　　The　writing　on　the　paper　is　dated　1863。　　This　is　a　palpable　　fraud。〃

〃Oh；　I　don't　know；〃　said　I。　　〃The　Rundles　are　pretty　reliable；　plain；　　uneducated　country　people。　　Maybe　the　paper　manufacturers　tried　to　　perpetrate　a　swindle。〃

And　then　Goodloe　Banks　went　as　wild　as　his　education　permitted。　　He　　dropped　the　glasses　off　his　nose　and　glared　at　me。

〃I've　often　told　you　you　were　a　fool；〃　he　said。　　〃You　have　let　　yourself　be　imposed　upon　by　a　clodhopper。　　And　you　have　imposed　upon　　me。〃

〃How；〃　I　asked；　〃have　I　imposed　upon　you　？〃

〃By　your　ignorance；〃　said　he。　　〃Twice　I　have　discovered　serious　flaws　　in　your　plans　that　a　common…school　education　should　have　enabled　you　　to　avoid。　　And；〃　he　continued；　〃I　have　been　put　to　expense　that　I　　could　ill　afford　in　pursuing　this　swindling　quest。　　I　am　done　with　　it。〃

I　rose　and　pointed　a　large　pewter　spoon　at　him；　fresh　from　the　dish…　water。

〃Goodloe　Banks；〃　I　said；　〃I　care　not　one　parboiled　navy　bean　for　your　　education。　　I　always　barely　tolerated　it　in　any　one；　and　I　despised　it　　in　you。　　What　has　your　learning　done　for　you？　　It　is　a　curse　to　　yourself　and　a　bore　to　your　friends。　　Away；〃　I　said〃away　with　your　　water…marks　and　variations！　　They　are　nothing　to　me。　　They　shall　not　　deflect　me　from　the　quest。〃

I　pointed　with　my　spoon　across　the　river　to　a　small　mountain　shaped　　like　a　pack…saddle。

〃I　am　going　to　search　that　mountain；〃　I　went　on；　〃for　the　treasure。　　　Decide　now　whether　you　are　in　it　or　not。　　If　you　wish　to　let　a　water…　mark　or　a　variation　shake　your　soul；　you　are　no　true　adventurer。　　　Decide。〃

A　white　cloud　of　dust　began　to　rise　far　down　the　river　road。　　It　was　　the　mail…wagon　from　Hesperus　to　Chico。　　Goodloe　flagged　it。

〃I　am　done　with　the　swindle；〃　said　he；　sourly。　　〃No　one　but　a　fool　　would　pay　any　attention　to　that　paper　now。　　Well；　you　always　were　a　　fool；　Jim。　　I　leave　you　to　your　fate。〃

He　gathered　his　personal　traps；　climbed　into　the　mail…wagon；　adjusted　　his　glasses　nervously；　and　flew　away　in　a　cloud　of　dust。

After　I　had　washed　the　dishes　and　staked　the　horses　on　new　grass；　I　　crossed　the　shallow　river　and　made　my　way　slowly　through　the　cedar…　brakes　up　to　the　top　of　the　hill　shaped　like　a　pack…saddle。

It　was　a　wonderful　June　day。　　Never　in　my　life　had　I　seen　so　many　　birds；　so　many　butter…flies；　dragon…flies；　grasshoppers；　and　such　　winged　and　stinged　beasts　of　the　air　and　fields。

I　investigated　the　hill　shaped　like　a　pack…saddle　from　base　to　summit。　　　I　found　an　absolute　absence　of　signs　relating　to　buried　treasure。　　　There　was　no　pile　of　stones；　no　ancient　blazes　on　the　trees；　none　of　　the　evidences　of　the　three　hundred　thousand　dollars；　as　set　forth　in　　the　document　of　old　man　Rundle。

I　came　down　the　hill　in　the　cool　of　the　afternoon。　　Suddenly；　out　of　　the　cedar…brake　I　stepped　into　a　beautiful　green　valley　where　a　　tributary　small　stream　ran　into　the　Alamito　River。

And　there　I　was　started　to　see　what　I　took　to　be　a　wild　man；　with　　unkempt　beard　and　ragged　hair；　pursuing　a　giant　butterfly　with　　brilliant　wings。

〃Perhaps　he　is　an　escaped　madman；〃　I　thought；　and　wondered　how　he　had　　strayed　so　far　from　seats　of　education　and　learning。

And　then　I　took　a　few　more　steps　and　saw　a　vine…covered　cottage　near　　the　small　stream。　　And　in　a　little　grassy　glade　I　saw　May　Martha　　Mangum　plucking　wild　flowers。

She　straightened　up　and　looked　at　me。　　For　the　first　time　since　I　knew　　her　I　saw　her　facewhich　was　the　color　of　the　white　keys　of　a　new　　pianoturn　pink。　　I　walked　toward　her　without　a　word。　　She　let　the　　gathered　flowers　trickle　slowly　from　her　hand　to　the　grass。

〃I　knew　you　would　come；　Jim；〃　she　said　clearly。　　〃Father　wouldn't　let　　me　write；　but　I　knew　you　would　come。

What　followed　you　may　guessthere　was　my　wagon　and　team　just　across　　the　river。


I've　often　wondered　what　good　too　much　education　is　to　a　man　if　he　　can't　use　it　for　himself。　　If　all　the　benefits　of　it　are　to　go　to　　others；　where　does　it　come　in？

For　May　Martha　Mangum　abides　with　me。　　There　is　an　eight…room　house　in　　a　live…oak　grove；　and　a　piano　with　an　automatic　player；　and　a　good　　start　toward　the　three　thousand　head　of　cattle　is　under　fence。

And　when　I　ride　home　at　night　my　pipe　and　slippers　are　put　away　in　　places　where　they　cannot　be　found。

But　who　cares　for　that？　Who　careswho　cares？




TO　HIM　WHO　WAITS



The　Hermit　of　the　Hudson　was　hustling　about　his　cave　with　unusual　　animation。

The　cave　was　on　or　in　the　top　of　a　little　spur　of　the　Catskills　that　　had　strayed　down　to　the　river's　edge；　and；　not　having　a　ferry　ticket；　　had　to　stop　there。　　The　bijou　mountains　were　densely　wooded　and　were　　infested　by　ferocious　squirrels　and　woodpeckers　that　forever　menaced　　the　summer　transients。　　Like　a　badly　sewn　strip　of　white　braid；　a　　macadamized　road　ran　between　the　green　skirt　of　the　hills　and　the　　foamy　lace　of　the　river's　edge。　　A　dim　path　wound　from　the　comfortable　　road　up　a　rocky　height　to　the　hermit's　cave。　　One　mile　upstream　was　　the　Viewpoint　Inn；　to　which　summer　folk　from　the　city　came；　leaving　　cool；　electric…fanned　apartments　that　they　might　be　driven　about　in　　burning　sunshine；　shrieking；　in　gasoline　launches；　by　spindle…legged　　Modreds　bearing　the　blankest　of　shields。

Train　your　lorgnette　upon　the　hermit　and　let　your　eye　receive　the　　personal　touch　that　shall　endear　you　to　the　hero。

A　man　of　forty；　judging　him　fairly；　with　long　hair　curling　at　the　　ends；　dramatic　eyes；　and　a　forked　brown　beard　like　those　that　were　　imposed　upon　the　West　some　years　ago　by　self…appointed　〃divine　　healers〃　who　succeeded　the　grasshopper　crop。　　His　outward　vesture　　appeared　to　be　kind　of　gunny…sacking　cut　and　made　into　a　garment　that　　would　have　made　the　fortune　of　a　London　tailor。　　His　long；　well…shaped　　fingers；　delicate　nose；　and　poise　of　manner　raised　him　high　above　the　　class　of　hermits　who　fear　water　and　bury　money　in　oyster…cans　in　their　　caves　in　spots　indicated　by　rude　crosses　chipped　in　the　stone　wall　　above。

The　hermit's　home　was　not　altogether　a　cave。　　The　cave　was　an　addition　　to　the　hermitage；　which　was　a　rude　hut　made　of　poles　daubed　with　clay　　and　covered　with　the　best　quality　of　rust…proof　zinc　roofing。

In　the　house　proper　there　were　stone　slabs　for　seats；　a　rustic　　bookcase　made　of　unplaned　poplar　planks；　and　a　table　formed　of　a　　wooden　slab　laid　across　two　upright　pieces　of　granitesomething　　between　the　furniture　of　a　Druid　temple　and　that　of　a　Broadway　　beefsteak　dungeon。　　Hung　against　the　walls　were　skins　of　wild　animals　　purchased　in　the　vicinity　of　Eighth　Street　and　University　Place；　New　　York。

The　rear　of　the　cabin　merged　into　the　cave。　　There　the　hermit　cooked　　his　meals　on　a　rude　stone　hearth。　　With　infinite　patience　and　an　old　　axe　he　had　chopped　natural　shelves　in　the　rocky　walls。　　On　them　stood　　his　stores　of　flour；　bacon；　lard；　talcum…powder；　kerosene；　baking…　powder；　soda…mint　tablets；　pepper；　salt；　and　Olivo…Cremo　Emulsion　for　　chaps　and　roughness　of　the　hands　and　face。

The　hermit　had　hermited　there　for　ten　years。　　He　was　an　asset　of　the　　Viewpoint　Inn。　　To　its　guests　he　was　second　in　interest　only　to　the　　Mysterious　Echo　in　the　Haunted　Glen。　　And　the　Lover's　Leap　beat　him　　only　a　few　inches；　flat…footed。　　He　was　known　far　（but　not　very　wide；　　on　account　of　the　topography）　as　a。　　scholar　of　brilliant　intellect　　who　had　forsworn　the　world　because　he　had　been　jilted　in　a　love　　affair。　　Every　Saturday　night　the　Viewpoint　Inn　sent　to　him　　surreptitiously　a　basket　of　provisions。　　He　never　left　the　immediate　　outskirts　of　his　hermitage。　　Guests　of　the　inn　who　visited　him　said　　his　store　of　knowledge；　wit；　and　scintillating　philosophy　were　simply　　wonderful；　you　know。

That　summer　the　Viewpoint　Inn　was　crowded　with　guests。　　So；　on　　Saturday　nights；　there　were　extra　cans　of　tomatoes；　and　sirloin　steak；　　instead　of　〃rounds；〃　in　the　hermit's　basket。

Now　you　have　the　material　allegations　in　the　case。　　So；　make　way　for　　Romance。

Evidently　the　hermit　expected　a　visitor。　　He　carefully　combed　his　long　　hair　and　parted　his　apostolic　beard。　　When　the　ninety…eight…cent　　alarm…clock　on　a　stone　shelf　announced　the　hour　of　five　he　picked　up　　his　gunny…sacking　skirts；　brushed　them　carefully；　gathered　an　oaken　　staff；　and　strolled　slowly　into　the　thick　woods　that　surrounded　the　　hermitage。

He　had　not　long　to　wait。　　Up　the　faint　pathway；　slippery　with　its　　carpet　of　pine…needles；　toiled　Beatrix；　youngest　and　fairest　of　the　　famous　Trenholme　sisters。　　She　was　all　in　blue　from　hat　to　canvas　　pumps；　varying　in　tint　from　the　shade　of　the　tinkle　of　a　bluebell　at　　daybreak　on　a　spring　Saturday　to　the　deep　hue　of　a　Monday　morning　at　　nine　when　the　washer…woman　has　failed　to　show　up。

Beatrix　dug　her　cerulean　parasol　deep　into　the　pine…needles　and　　sighed。　　The　hermit；　on　the　q。　　t。；　removed　a　grass　burr　from　the　　ankle　of　one　sandalled　foot　with　the　big　toe　of　his　other　one。

She　bluedand　almost　starched　and　ironed　himwith　her　cobalt　eyes。

〃It　must　be　so　nice；〃　she　said　in　little；　tremulous　gasps；　〃to　be　a　　hermit；　and　have　ladies　climb　mountains　to　talk　to　you。〃

The　hermit　folded　his　arms　and　leaned　against　a　tree。　　Beatrix；　with　a　　sigh；　settled　down　upon　the　mat　of　pine…needles　like　a　bluebird　upon　　her　nest。　　The　hermit　followed　suit；　drawing　his　feet　rather　awkwardly　　under　his　gunny…sacking。

〃It　must　be　nice　to　be　a　mountain；〃　said　he；　with　ponderous　lightness；　　〃and　have　angels　in　blue　climb　up　you　instead　of　flying　over　you。〃