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a first family of tasajara-第3章

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articles of barter on the counter。





CHAPTER II。





With the closing of the little door behind them they seemed to have

shut out the turmoil and vibration of the storm。  The reason became

apparent when; after a few paces; they descended half a dozen steps

to a lower landing。  This disclosed the fact that the dwelling part

of the Sidon General Store was quite below the level of the shop

and the road; and on the slope of the solitary undulation of the

Tasajara plain;a little ravine that fell away to a brawling

stream below。  The only arboreous growth of Tasajara clothed its

banks in the shape of willows and alders that set compactly around

the quaint; irregular dwelling which straggled down the ravine and

looked upon a slope of bracken and foliage on either side。  The

transition from the black; treeless; storm…swept plain to this

sheltered declivity was striking and suggestive。  From the opposite

bank one might fancy that the youthful and original dwelling had

ambitiously mounted the crest; but; appalled at the dreary prospect

beyond; had gone no further; while from the road it seemed as if

the fastidious proprietor had tried to draw a line between the

vulgar trading…post; with which he was obliged to face the coarser

civilization of the place; and the privacy of his domestic life。

The real fact; however; was that the ravine furnished wood and

water; and as Nature also provided one wall of the house;as in

the well…known example of aboriginal cave dwellings;its peculiar

construction commended itself to Sidon on the ground of involving

little labor。



Howbeit; from the two open windows of the sitting…room which they

had entered only the faint pattering of dripping boughs and a

slight murmur from the swollen brook indicated the storm that shook

the upper plain; and the cool breath of laurel; syringa; and alder

was wafted through the neat apartment。  Passing through that

pleasant rural atmosphere they entered the kitchen; a much larger

room; which appeared to serve occasionally as a dining…room; and

where supper was already laid out。  A stout; comfortable…looking

womanwho had; however; a singularly permanent expression of

pained sympathy upon her facewelcomed them in tones of gentle

commiseration。



〃Ah; there you be; you two!  Now sit ye right down; dears; DO。  You

must be tired out; and you; Phemie; love; draw up by your poor

father。  Therethat's right。  You'll be better soon。〃



There was certainly no visible sign of suffering or exhaustion on

the part of either father or daughter; nor the slightest apparent

earthly reason why they should be expected to exhibit any。  But;

as already intimated; it was part of Mrs。 Harkutt's generous

idiosyncrasy to look upon all humanity as suffering and toiling; to

be petted; humored; condoled with; and fed。  It had; in the course

of years; imparted a singularly caressing sadness to her voice; and

given her the habit of ending her sentences with a melancholy cooing

and an unintelligible murmur of agreement。  It was undoubtedly

sincere and sympathetic; but at times inappropriate and distressing。

It had lost her the friendship of the one humorist of Tasajara;

whose best jokes she had received with such heartfelt commiseration

and such pained appreciation of the evident labor involved as to

reduce him to silence。



Accustomed as Mr。 Harkutt was to his wife's peculiarity; he was not

above assuming a certain slightly fatigued attitude befitting it。

〃Yes;〃 he said; with a vague sigh; 〃where's Clemmie?〃



〃Lyin' down since dinner; she reckoned she wouldn't get up to

supper;〃 she returned soothingly。  〃Phemie's goin' to take her up

some sass and tea。  The poor dear child wants a change。〃



〃She wants to go to 'Frisco; and so do I; pop;〃 said Phemie;

leaning her elbow half over her father's plate。  〃Come; pop; say

do;just for a week。〃



〃Only for a week;〃 murmured the commiserating Mrs。 Harkutt。



〃Perhaps;〃 responded Harkutt; with gloomy sarcasm; 〃ye wouldn't

mind tellin' me how you're goin' to get there; and where the

money's comin' from to take you?  There's no teamin' over Tasajara

till the rain stops; and no money comin' in till the ranchmen can

move their stuff。  There ain't a hundred dollars in all Tasajara;

at least there ain't been the first red cent of it paid across my

counter for a fortnit!  Perhaps if you do go you wouldn't mind

takin' me and the store along with ye; and leavin' us there。〃



〃Yes; dear;〃 said Mrs。 Harkutt; with sympathetic but shameless

tergiversation。  〃Don't bother your poor father; Phemie; love;

don't you see he's just tired out?  And you're not eatin' anything;

dad。〃



As Mr。 Harkutt was uneasily conscious that he had been eating

heartily in spite of his financial difficulties; he turned the

subject abruptly。  〃Where's John Milton?〃



Mrs。 Harkutt shaded her eyes with her hand; and gazed meditatively

on the floor before the fire and in the chimney corner for her only

son; baptized under that historic title。  〃He was here a minit

ago;〃 she said doubtfully。  〃I really can't think where he's gone。

But;〃 assuringly; 〃it ain't far。〃



〃He's skipped with one o' those story…books he's borrowed;〃 said

Phemie。  〃He's always doin' it。  Like as not he's reading with a

candle in the wood…shed。  We'll all be burnt up some night。〃



〃But he's got through his chores;〃 interposed Mrs。 Harkutt

deprecatingly。



〃Yes;〃 continued Harkutt; aggrievedly; 〃but instead of goin' to

bed; or addin' up bills; or takin' count o' stock; or even doin'

sums or suthin' useful; he's ruinin' his eyes and wastin' his time

over trash。〃  He rose and walked slowly into the sitting…room;

followed by his daughter and a murmur of commiseration from his

wife。  But Mrs。 Harkutt's ministration for the present did not pass

beyond her domain; the kitchen。



〃I reckon ye ain't expectin' anybody tonight; Phemie?〃 said Mr。

Harkutt; sinking into a chair; and placing his slippered feet

against the wall。



〃No;〃 said Phemie; 〃unless something possesses that sappy little

Parmlee to make one of his visitations。  John Milton says that out

on the road it blows so you can't stand up。  It's just like that

idiot Parmlee to be blown in here; and not have strength of mind

enough to get away again。〃



Mr。 Harkutt smiled。  It was that arch yet approving; severe yet

satisfied smile with which the deceived male parent usually

receives any depreciation of the ordinary young man by his

daughters。  Euphemia was no giddy thing to be carried away by young

men's attentions;not she!  Sitting back comfortably in his

rocking…chair; he said; 〃Play something。〃



The young girl went to the closet and took from the top shelf an

excessively ornamented accordion;the opulent gift of a reckless

admirer。  It was so inordinately decorated; so gorgeous in the

blaze of papier mache; mother…of…pearl; and tortoise…shell on keys

and keyboard; and so ostentatiously radiant in the pink silk of its

bellows that it seemed to overawe the plainly furnished room with

its splendors。  〃You ought to keep it on the table in a glass vase;

Phemie;〃 said her father admiringly。



〃And have HIM think I worshiped it!  Not me; indeed!  He's conceited

enough already;〃 she returned; saucily。



Mr。 Harkutt again smiled his approbation; then deliberately closed

his eyes and threw his head back in comfortable anticipation of the

coming strains。



It is to be regretted that in brilliancy; finish; and even

cheerfulness of quality they were not up to the suggestions of the

keys and keyboard。  The most discreet and cautious effort on the

part of the young performer seemed only to produce startlingly

unexpected; but instantly suppressed complaints from the

instrument; accompanied by impatient interjections of 〃No; no;〃

from the girl herself。  Nevertheless; with her pretty eyebrows

knitted in some charming distress of memory; her little mouth half

open between an apologetic smile and the exertion of working the

bellows; with her white; rounded arms partly lifted up and waving

before her; she was pleasantly distracting to the eye。  Gradually;

as the scattered strains were marshaled into something like an air;

she began to sing also; glossing over the instrumental weaknesses;

filling in certain dropped notes and omissions; and otherwise

assisting the ineffectual accordion with a youthful but not

unmusical voice。  The song was a lugubrious religious chant; under

its influence the house seemed to sink into greater quiet;

permitting in the intervals the murmur of the swollen creek to

appear more distinct; and even the far moaning of the wind on the

plain to become faintly audible。  At last; having fairly mastered

the instrument; Phemie got into the full swing of the chant。

Unconstrained by any criticism; carried away by the sound of her

own voice; and perhaps a youthful love for mere uproar; or possibly

desirous to drown her father's voice; which had unexpectedly joined

in with a discomposing bass; the conjoined utterances seemed to

threaten the frail structure of their dwelling; even as the gale

had distended the store behind them。  When they ceased at last it

was in an accession of dripping from the apparently stirred leaves

outside。  And then a voice; evidently from the moist depths of the

abyss below; called out;



〃Hullo; there!〃



Phemie put down the accordion; said; 〃Who's that now?〃 went to the

window; lazily leaned her elbows on the sill; and peered into the

darkness。  Nothing was to be seen; the open space of dimly outlined

landscape had that blank; uncommunicative impenetrability with

which Nature always confronts and surprises us at such moments。  It

seemed to Phemie that she was the only human being present。  Yet

after the feeling had passed she fancied she heard the wash of the

current against some object in the stream; half stationary and half

resisting。



〃Is any one down there?  Is that you; Mr。 Parmlee?〃 she called。



There was a pause。  Some invisible auditor said to another; 〃It's a

young lady。〃  Then the first voice rose again in a more deferential

tone: 〃Are we anywhere near Sidon?〃



〃This is Sidon;〃 answered Harkutt; who had risen; and was now quite

obliterating his daughter's outline at the window。



〃Thank you;〃 said the voice。  〃Can we land anywhere here; on this

bank?〃



〃Run down; pop; they're strangers;〃 said the girl; with excited;

almost childish eagerness。



〃Hold on;〃 called out Harkutt; 〃I'll be thar in a moment!〃  He

hastily thrust his feet into a pair of huge boots; clapped on an

oilskin hat and waterproof; and disappeared through a door that led

to a lower staircase。  Phemie; still at the window; albeit with a

newly added sense of self…consciousness; hung out breathlessly。

Presently a beam of light from the lower depths of the house shot

out into the darkness。  It was her father w

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