to the last man-第15部分

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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　feeling　forced　her　to
believe　this。　　She　remembered　the　honest　amaze　and　shame　and　contrition
with　which　be　had　faced　her；　trying　awkwardly　to　explain　his　bold　act。
Likewise　she　recalled　the　subtle　swift　change　in　him　at　her　words；　　〃Oh；
I've　been　kissed　before！〃　　She　was　glad　she　had　said　that。　　　Stillwas
she　glad；　after　all？

She　watched　him。　　Every　little　while　he　shifted　his　gaze　from　the
blue　gulf　beneath　him　to　the　forest。　　When　he　turned　thus　the　sun
shone　on　his　face　and　she　caught　the　piercing　gleam　of　his　dark　eyes。
She　saw；　too；　that　he　was　listening。　　Watching　and　listening　for　her！
Ellen　had　to　still　a　tumult　within　her。　　It　made　her　feel　very　young；
very　shy；　very　strange。　　All　the　while　she　hated　him　because　he
manifestly　expected　her　to　come。　　Several　times　he　rose　and　walked
a　little　way　into　the　woods。　　The　last　time　he　looked　at　the　westering
sun　and　shook　his　head。　　His　confidence　had　gone。　　Then　he　sat　and
gazed　down　into　the　void。　　But　Ellen　knew　he　did　not　see　anything
there。　　He　seemed　an　image　carved　in　the　stone　of　the　Rim；　and　he
gave　Ellen　a　singular　impression　of　loneliness　and　sadness。　　Was　he
thinking　of　the　miserable　battle　his　father　had　summoned　him　to　lead
of　what　it　would　costof　its　useless　pain　and　hatred？　　Ellen　seemed
to　divine　his　thoughts。　　In　that　moment　she　softened　toward　him；　and
in　her　soul　quivered　and　stirred　an　intangible　something　that　was　like
pain；　that　was　too　deep　for　her　understanding。　　But　she　felt　sorry　for
an　Isbel　until　the　old　pride　resurged。　　What　if　he　admired　her？　　She
remembered　his　interest；　the　wonder　and　admiration；　the　growing　light
in　his　eyes。　　And　it　had　not　been　repugnant　to　her　until　he　disclosed
his　name。　　〃What's　in　a　name？〃　she　mused；　recalling　poetry　learned　in
her　girlhood。　　〃'A　rose　by　any　other　name　would　smell　as　sweet'。　。　。　。
He's　an　Isbelyet　he　might　be　splendidnoble。　。　。　。　Bah！　he's　not
and　I'd　hate　him　anyhow。〃　 I

All　at　once　Ellen　felt　cold　shivers　steal　over　her。　　Isbel's　piercing
gaze　was　directed　straight　at　her　hiding　place。　　Her　heart　stopped
beating。　　If　he　discovered　her　there　she　felt　that　she　would　die　of
shame。　　Then　she　became　aware　that　a　blue　jay　was　screeching　in　a
pine　above　her；　and　a　red　squirrel　somewhere　near　was　chattering　his
shrill　annoyance。　　These　two　denizens　of　the　woods　could　be　depended
upon　to　espy　the　wariest　hunter　and　make　known　his　presence　to　their
kind。　　Ellen　had　a　moment　of　more　than　dread。　　This　keen…eyed；
keen…eared　Indian　might　see　right　through　her　brushy　covert；　might
hear　the　throbbing　of　her　heart。　　It　relieved　her　immeasurably　to
see　him　turn　away　and　take　to　pacing　the　promontory；　with　his　head
bowed　and　his　hands　behind　his　back。　　He　had　stopped　looking　off　into
the　forest。　　Presently　he　wheeled　to　the　west；　and　by　the　light　upon
his　face　Ellen　saw　that　the　time　was　near　sunset。　　Turkeys　were
beginning　to　gobble　back　on　the　ridge。

Isbel　walked　to　his　horse　and　appeared　to　be　untying　something　from
the　back　of　his　saddle。　　When　he　came　back　Ellen　saw　that　he　carried
a　small　package　apparently　wrapped　in　paper。　　With　this　under　his　arm
he　strode　off　in　the　direction　of　Ellen's　camp　and　soon　disappeared　in　
the　forest。

For　a　little　while　Ellen　lay　there　in　bewilderment。　　If　she　had　made
conjectures　before；　they　were　now　multiplied。　　Where　was　Jean　Isbel
going？　　Ellen　sat　up　suddenly。　　〃Well；　shore　this　heah　beats　me；〃
she　said。　　〃What　did　he　have　in　that　package？　　What　was　he　goin'
to　do　with　it？　〃

It　took　no　little　will　power　to　hold　her　there　when　she　wanted　to
steal　after　him　through　the　woods　and　find　out　what　he　meant。　　But　his
reputation　influenced　even　her　and　she　refused　to　pit　her　cunning　in
the　forest　against　his。　　It　would　be　better　to　wait　until　he　returned
to　his　horse。　　Thus　decided；　she　lay　back　again　in　her　covert　and　gave
her　mind　over　to　pondering　curiosity。　　Sooner　than　she　expected　she
espied　Isbel　approaching　through　the　forest；　empty　handed。　　He　had　not
taken　his　rifle。　　Ellen　averted　her　glance　a　moment　and　thrilled　to　see
the　rifle　leaning　against　a　rock。　　Verily　Jean　Isbel　had　been　far　removed
from　hostile　intent　that　day。　　She　watched　him　stride　swiftly　up　to　his
horse；　untie　the　halter；　and　mount。　　Ellen　had　an　impression　of　his
arrowlike　straight　figure；　and　sinuous　grace　and　ease。　　Then　he　looked
back　at　the　promontory；　as　if　to　fix　a　picture　of　it　in　his　mind；　and
rode　away　along　the　Rim。　　She　watched　him　out　of　sight。　　What　ailed　her？
Something　was　wrong　with　her；　but　she　recognized　only　relief。

When　Isbel　had　been　gone　long　enough　to　assure　Ellen　that　she　might
safely　venture　forth　she　crawled　through　the　pine　thicket　to　the　Rim
on　the　other　side　of　the　point。　　The　sun　was　setting　behind　the　Black
Range；　shedding　a　golden　glory　over　the　Basin。　　Westward　the　zigzag　Rim　
reached　like　a　streamer　of　fire　into　the　sun。　　The　vast　promontories
jutted　out　with　blazing　beacon　lights　upon　their　stone…walled　faces。
Deep　down；　the　Basin　was　turning　shadowy　dark　blue；　going　to　sleep
for　the　night。

Ellen　bent　swift　steps　toward　her　camp。　　Long　shafts　of　gold　preceded
her　through　the　forest。　　Then　they　paled　and　vanished。　　The　tips　of
pines　and　spruces　turned　gold。　　A　hoarse…voiced　old　turkey　gobbler　was
booming　his　chug…a…lug　from　the　highest　ground；　and　the　softer　chick　of　
hen　turkeys　answered　him。　　Ellen　was　almost　breathless　when　she　arrived。
Two　packs　and　a　couple　of　lop…eared　burros　attested　to　the　fact　of
Antonio's　return。　　This　was　good　news　for　Ellen。　　She　heard　the　bleat
of　lambs　and　tinkle　of　bells　coming　nearer　and　nearer。　　And　she　was　glad
to　feel　that　if　Isbel　had　visited　her　camp；　most　probably　it　was　during
the　absence　of　the　herders。

The　instant　she　glanced　into　her　tent　she　saw　the　package　Isbel　had
carried。　　It　lay　on　her　bed。　　Ellen　stared　blankly。　　〃Thethe　impudence
of　him！〃　she　ejaculated。　　Then　she　kicked　the　package　out　of　the　tent。
Words　and　action　seemed　to　liberate　a　dammed…up　hot　fury。　　She　kicked
the　package　again；　and　thought　she　would　kick　it　into　the　s