As they left the hall, Churchill overtook Harley and tapped him on the shoulder. Harley turned and saw an expression of supreme1 disgust on the face of the _Monitor's_ correspondent, but Harley himself only felt amusement. He knew that Churchill meant attack.
"I never saw anything more theatrical3 and ill-timed," said Churchill. "Of course, it was all prearranged in some manner. But the idea of a Presidential nominee4 taking such a risk!"
"He has saved an innocent man's life, and I call that no small achievement."
"Because the trick was successful; but it was a trick, all the same, and it was beneath the dignity of a Presidential nominee."
"There was but little risk of any kind," said Harley, shortly, "and even had it been larger, it would have been right to take it, when the stake was a man's life. Churchill, you are hunting for faults, you know you are, or you would not be so quick to see them."
Churchill made no audible reply, but Harley could see that he was unconvinced, and, in fact, he sent his newspaper a lurid6 despatch7 about it, taking events out of their proper proportion, and hence giving to them a wholly unjustifiable conclusion. But Sylvia Morgan was devotedly9 loyal to her uncle. There were few deeds of his of which she approved more warmly than this of saving Boyd's life, and Hobart, the master spirit in it, she thanked in a way that made him turn red with pleasure. But the discussion of the whole affair was brief, because fast upon its heels trod another event which stirred them yet more deeply.
When the special train was at Blue Earth, in Montana, among the high mountains, there came to Jimmy Grayson an appeal, compounded of pathos10 and despair, that he could not resist. It was from the citizens of Crow's Wing, forty miles deeper into the yet higher and steeper mountains, and they recounted, in mournful words, how no candidate ever came to see them; all passed them by as either too few or too difficult, and they had never yet listened to the spell of oratory11; of course, they did not expect the nominee of a great party for the Presidency13 of the United States to make the hard trip and speak to them, when even the little fellows ignored their existence; nevertheless, they wished to inform him in writing that they were alive, and on the map, at least, they made as big a dot as either Helena or Butte.
The candidate smiled when he read the letter. The tone of it moved him. Moreover, he was not deficient14 in policy--no man who rises is--and while Crow's Wing had but few votes, Montana was close, and a single state might decide the Union.
"Those people at Crow's Wing do not expect me, but I shall go to them," he said to his train.
"Why, it's a full day's journey and more, over the roughest and rockiest road in America," said Mr. Curtis, the state senator from Wyoming, who was still with them.
"I shall go," said Jimmy Grayson, decisively. "There is a break here in our schedule, and this trip will fit in very nicely."
The others were against it, but they said nothing more in opposition15, knowing that it would be of no avail. Obliging, generous, and soft-hearted, the candidate, nevertheless, had a temper of steel when his mind was made up, and the others had learned not to oppose it. But all shunned16 the journey with him to Crow's Wing except Harley, Mr. Plummer, Mr. Herbert Heathcote--because there is no zeal17 like that of the converted--and one other.
That "other" was Sylvia, and she insisted upon going, refusing to listen to all the good arguments that were brought against it. "I know that I am only a woman--a girl," she said, "but I know, too, that I've lived all my life in the mountains, and I understand them. Why, I've been on harder journeys than this with daddy before I was twelve years old. Haven18't I, daddy?" As she had predicted, she forgot his request not to call him "daddy."
Thus appealed to, Mr. Plummer was fain to confess the truth, though with reluctance19. However, he said, rather weakly:
"But you don't know what kind of weather we'll have, Sylvia."
Then she turned upon him in a manner that terrified him.
"Now, daddy, if I couldn't get up a better argument than that I'd quit," she said. "Weather! weather! weather! to an Idaho girl! Suppose it should rain, I'm made of neither sugar nor salt, and I won't melt. I've been rained on a thousand times. Aunt Anna says I may go if Uncle James is willing, and he's willing--he has to be; besides, he's my chaperon. If you don't say 'yes,' Uncle James, I shall take the train and go straight home."
They were forced to consent, and Harley was glad that she insisted, because he liked to know that she was near, and he thought that she looked wonderfully well on horseback.
The going of Harley with the candidate was taken as a matter of course by everybody. Silent, tactful, and strong, he had grown almost imperceptibly into a confidential20 relationship with the nominee, and Mr. Grayson did not realize how much he relied upon the quiet man who could not make a speech but who was so ready of resource. As for Mr. Heathcote, being an Easterner, he wished to see the West in all its aspects.
They started at daybreak, guided by a taciturn mountaineer, Jim Jones, called simply Jim for the sake of brevity, and, the hour being so early, few were present to see them ride up the hanging slope and into the mighty21 wilderness22.
But it was a glorious dawn. The young sun was gilding23 the sea of crags and crests24 with burnished25 gold and the air had the sparkle of youth. Mr. Heathcote threw back his slightly narrow chest, and, drawing three deep breaths of just the same length, he said, "I would not miss this trip for a thousand dollars!"
Harley said nothing, but he, too, looked out upon the morning world with a kindling27 eye. Far below them was a narrow valley, a faint green line down the centre showing where the little river ran, with the irrigated28 farms on either side, like beads29 on a string. Above them towered the peaks, white with everlasting30 snow.
"A fine day for our ride," said the candidate to Jim.
"Looks like it now, though I never gamble on mountain weather," replied the taciturn man.
But the promise held good for a long time, the sun still shining and the winds coming fresh and brisk along the crests and ridges31. The trail wound about the slopes and steadily32 ascended33. Vegetation ceased, and before them stretched the bare rocks. Harley knew very well now that only the sunshine saved them from grimness and desolation. The loneliness became oppressive. Even Sylvia was silent. It was the wilderness in reality as well as seeming; nowhere did they see a miner's hut or a hunter's cabin, only nature in her most savage36 form.
The little group of horsemen forgot to talk. The candidate's head was bowed and his brow bent37. Clearly he was immersed in thought. Mr. Heathcote, unused to such arduous38 journeys, leaned forward in his saddle in a state of semi-exhaustion. But Sylvia, although a girl, was accustomed to the mountains, and she showed few signs of fatigue39. Harley said at last to the guide, "A wild country, one of the wildest, I think, that I ever saw."
"Yes, a wild country, and a bad 'un, too," responded Jim. "See off there to the left?"
He pointed40 to a maze41 of bare and rocky ridges, and when he saw that Harley's gaze was following his long forefinger42, he continued:
"I say it's a bad 'un, because over there Red Perkins and his gang of horse-thieves, outlaws43, and cut-throats used to have their hiding-place. It's a tangled-up stretch o' mountain, so wild, so rocky, so full of caves that they could have hid there till jedgment-day from all Montana. Yes, that's where they used to hang out."
"Used to?"
"Yes, 'cause I 'ain't heard much uv them fur some time. They came down in the valley and tried to stampede them new blooded horses from Kentucky on Sifton's ranch44, but Sifton and his men was waitin', and when the smoke cleared off most uv the gang was wiped out. Red and two or three uv his fellers got away, but I 'ain't heard uv 'em since. Guess they've scattered45."
"Wisest thing they could do," said Harley.
The guide made no answer, and they plodded46 on in silence until about two o'clock in the afternoon, when they stopped in a little cove47 to eat luncheon48 and refresh their horses.
It was the first grateful spot they had seen in hours. A brook49 fed by the snows above formed a pool in the hollow, and then, overflowing50 it, dropped down the mountain-wall. But in this sheltered nook and around the life-giving water green grass was growing, and there was a rim34 of goodly trees. The horses, when their riders dismounted, grazed eagerly, and the riders themselves lay upon the grass and ate with deep content.
Sylvia talked little. She seemed thoughtful, and, when neither of them was looking, she glanced now and then at Harley and "King" Plummer. Had they noticed they would have seen a shade of sadness on her face. Mr. Plummer did not speak, and it was because there was a growing anxiety in his mind. He was sorry now that they had let Sylvia come, and he silently called himself a weak fool.
"Shall we reach Crow's Wing by dark?" asked the candidate of the guide.
Jim had risen, and, standing51 at the edge of the cove, was gazing out over the rolling sea of mountains. Harley noticed a troubled look on his face.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you see that brown spot down there in the southwest, just a-top the hills? Waal, it's a cloud, an' it's comin' this way. Clouds, you know, always hev somethin' in 'em."
"That is to say we shall have rain," said the candidate. "Let it come. We have been rained on too often to mind such a little thing--eh, Sylvia? You see, I take you at your word."
The girl nodded.
"I don't think it'll be rain," said the guide. "We are so high up here that more 'n likely it'll be snow. An' when there's a snow-storm in the mountains you can't go climbin' along the side o' cliffs."
The others, too, looked grave now. Perhaps, with the exception of "King" Plummer, they had not foreseen such a difficulty, but the guide came to their relief with more cheering words--after all, the cloud might not continue to grow, "an' it ain't worth while to holler afore we're hit."
This seemed sound philosophy to the others, and, dismissing their cares, they started again, much refreshed by their stop in the little cove. The road now grew rougher, the guide leading and the rest following in single-file, Sylvia just ahead of Harley. By-and-by their cares returned. Harley glanced towards the southwest and saw there the same cloud, but now much bigger, blacker, and more threatening. The sunshine was gone, and the wrinkled surface of the mountains was gray and sombre. The air had grown cold, and down among the clefts52 there was a weird54, moaning wind. Harley glanced at the guide, and noticed that his face was now decidedly anxious. But the correspondent said nothing. Part of his strength lay in his ability to wait, and he knew that the guide would speak in good time.
"Don't any of you be discouraged because of me," said Sylvia; "I'm not afraid of storms--even snowstorms. Am I not a good mountaineer, daddy?"
The "King" nodded his head. He knew that she was a better mountaineer than any in the party except the guide and himself, and he felt less alarm for her than was in the mind of Grayson or Harley.
But Harley was thrilled by her courage. Here, amid these wild mountains, with the threat of darkness and the storm, she was unafraid and still feminine. "This is a woman to be won," was his unuttered thought.
Another hour passed, and the air grew darker and colder. Then Jim stopped.
"Gentlemen," he said, "there's a snow-storm comin' soon. I didn't expect one so early, even on the mountains, but it's comin', anyhow, an' if we keep on for Crow's Wing they'll have to dig our bones out o' the meltin' drifts next summer. We've got to make for Queen City."
"Queen City!" exclaimed Mr. Heathcote. "I didn't know there was another town anywhere near here."
"She's a-standin' all the same," replied the guide, brusquely, "an' I wouldn't never hev started on the trip to Crow's Wing if there hadn't been such a stoppin'-place betwixt an' between, in case o' trouble with the weather. An' let me whisper to you, Queen City's quite a sizable place. We'll pass the night there. It's got a fine hotel, the finest an' biggest in the mountains."
He looked grimly at Mr. Heathcote, as much as to say, "Ask me as much more as you please, but I'll answer you nothing." Then he added, glancing at Sylvia:
"But you said that the biggest and finest hotel in the mountains was waiting for me," replied Sylvia, with spirit.
The guide bowed his head admiringly, and said no more.
Something cold and damp touched Harley's cheek. He looked up, and another flake56 of snow, descending57 softly, settled upon his face. The clouds rolled over them, heavy and dark, and shut out all the mountains save a little island where they stood. The snow, following the first few flakes58, fell softly but rapidly.
"It's Queen City or moulderin' in the drifts till next summer!" cried Jim, and he turned his horse into a side-path. The others followed without a word, willing to accept his guidance through the greatest peril59 they had yet faced in an arduous campaign. Despite the danger, which he knew to be heavy and pressing, and his anxiety for Sylvia, Harley's curiosity was aroused, and he wished to ask more of Queen City, but the saturnine60 face of the guide was not inviting61. Nevertheless, he risked one question.
"How far is this place, Queen City?" he asked.
"Bout8 two miles," replied Jim, with what seemed to Harley a derisive62 grin, "an' it's tarnal lucky for us that it's so near."
Harley said no more, but he was satisfied with nothing in the guide's reply save the fact that the town was only two miles away; any shelter would be welcome, because he saw now that a snow-storm on the wild mountains was a terrible thing.
The guide led on; Jimmy Grayson, with bent head, followed; Mr. Heathcote, shrunk in his saddle, came next; then "King" Plummer; and after him Sylvia and Harley, who were as nearly side by side as the narrow path would permit.
"It won't be far, Miss Morgan," said Harley; the others could not hear.
She felt rather than heard the note of apprehension63 in his voice, and she knew it was for her. A thrill of singular sweetness passed over her. It was pleasant for some one, _the_ one, to be afraid for her sake. She looked out at the driving snow and the dim peaks, but she had no fear for herself. She was glad, too, that she had come.
"I know the way of the mountains," she replied. "The guide will take us in safety to this city of his, of which he speaks so highly."
Harley saw her smile through the snow. The others rode on before, heads bowed, and did not look back. He and she felt a powerful sense of comradeship, and once, when he leaned over to detach her bridle64 rein65 from the horse's mane, he touched her hand, which was so soft and warm. Again the electric thrill passed through them both, and they looked into each other's eyes.
Now and then the vast veil of snow parted before the wind, as if cleft53 down the centre by a sword-blade, and Harley and Sylvia beheld66 a grand and awful sight. Before them were all the peaks and ridges, rising in white cones67 and pillars against the cloudy sky, and the effect was of distance and sublimity68. From the clefts and ravines came a desolate69 moaning. Harley felt that he was much nearer to the eternal here than he could ever be in the plains. Then the rent veil would close again, and he saw only his comrades and the rocks twenty feet away.
They turned around the base of a cliff rising hundreds of feet above them, and Harley caught the dull-red glare of brick walls, showing through the falling snow. He was ready to raise a shout of joy. This he knew was Queen City, lying snugly71 in its wide valley. There was the typical, single mountain street, with its row of buildings on either side; the big one near-by was certainly the hotel, and the other big one farther on was as certainly the opera-house. But nobody was in the streets, and the whole place was dark; not a light appeared at a single window, although the night had come.
"We're here," Harley said to Sylvia, "but I confess that this does not look promising72. Certainly there is nobody running to meet us."
She was gazing with curiosity.
"It's like no other town that I ever saw," she said.
Harley rode up by the side of the guide.
"The place looks lonesome," he said.
"Maybe they've all gone to bed; there ain't anythin' here to keep 'em awake," replied the guide, with the old puzzling and derisive smile.
Harley turned coldly away. He did not like to have any one make fun of him, and that he saw clearly was the guide's intention. Jimmy Grayson was still thinking of things far off, and Mr. Heathcote, chilled and shrunk, seemed to have lost the power of speech. "King" Plummer, for reasons of his own, was silent too.
The guide rode slowly towards the large brick building that Harley took to be the hotel, and, at that moment, the snow slackened for a little while; the last rays of the setting sun struck upon the dun walls and gilded73 them with red tracery; some panes74 of glass gave back the ruddy glare, but mostly the windows were bare and empty, like eyeless sockets75. Harley looked farther, and all the other buildings--the opera-house, the stores, and the residences--were the same, desolate and decaying. About the place were snow-covered heaps, evidently the refuse of mining operations, but they saw no human being.
The effect upon all save the guide was startling. Harley saw the look of chilled wonder grow on Jimmy Grayson's face. Mr. Heathcote raised himself in his saddle and stared, uncomprehending. Harley had been deep in the desert, but never before had he seen such desolation and ruin, because here was the body, but all life had gone from it. He felt as one alone with ghosts. Sylvia was silent, her confidence gone for the moment. The guide laughed dryly.
"You guessed it," he said, looking at Harley. "It's a dead city. Queen City has been as dead as Adam these half-dozen years. When the mines played out, it died; there was no earthly use for Queen City any longer, and by-and-by everybody went away. But I've seen the old town when it was alive. Five thousand people here. Money a-flowin', drinks passin' over the counter one way and the coin the other, the gamblin'-houses an' the theatre chock-full, an' women, any kind you please. But there ain't a soul left now."
The snow thinned still more, and the buildings rose before them gaunt and grim.
"We'll stop to-night at the Grand Hotel--that is, if they ain't too much crowded; it'll be nice for the lady," said the guide, who had had his little joke and who now wished to serve his employers as best he could; "but first we'll take the horses into the dinin'-room; nobody will object; I've done it afore."
He rode towards a side-door, but over the main entrance Harley saw in tessellated letters the words "Grand Hotel," and he tried to shake off the feeling of weirdness76 that it gave him.
The door to the dining-room, which was almost level with the ground, was gone, and with some driving the horses were persuaded to enter. They were tethered there, sheltered from the storm, and, when they moved, their feet rumbled77 hollowly on the wooden floor. Sylvia, the candidate, and his friends, driven by the same impulse, turned back into the snow and re-entered the house by the front door.
They passed into a wide hall, and at the far end they saw the clerk's desk. Lying upon it were some fragments of paper fastened to a chain, and Harley knew that it was what was left of the hotel register. It spoke78 so vividly79 of both life and death that the five stopped.
"Would you like to register, Mr. Grayson?" asked Harley, wishing to relieve the tension.
The candidate laughed mirthlessly.
"Not to-night, Harley," he said; "but, gloomy as the place is, we ought to be thankful that we have found it. See how the storm is rising."
He glanced at Sylvia, and deep gratitude80 swelled81 up in his breast. Grewsome as it might look, Queen City was now, indeed, a place of refuge. But he had no word of reproach for her, because she had insisted upon coming. He knew that a snow-storm had not entered into her calculations, as it had not entered into his, and, moreover, no one in the party had shown more courage or better spirits.
The snow drove in at the unsheltered windows, and a long whine82 arose as the wind whirled around the old house. The guide came in with cheerful bustle83 and stamp of feet.
"Don't linger here, gentlemen and ladies," he said. "The house is yours. Come into the parlor84. We've had a piece of luck. Now and then a lone35 tramp or a miner seeks shelter in this town, just as we have done; they come mostly to the hotel, and some feller who gathered up wood failed to burn it all. I'll have a fire in the parlor in five minutes, and then we can ring for hot drinks for the men, a lemonade for the lady, and a warm dinner for all. I'll take straight whiskey, an' after that I ain't partic'ler whether I get patty-de-foy-graw or hummin'-bird tongues."
His good-humor was infectious, and they were thankful, too, for the shelter, desolate though the place was. All the wood had been stripped away except the floors, and the brick walls were bare. In the great parlor they had nothing to sit on save their saddles, but it was a noble apartment, many feet square, built for a time when there was life in Queen City.
"I've heard the Governor of Montana speak to more than two hundred people in this very room," said Jim, reminiscently. "He was to have spoke in the public square, but snow come up, an' Bill Fosdick, who run the hotel, and run her wide open, invited 'em all right in here, an' they come."
Harley could well believe it, knowing, as he did, the miners and the mountains, and, by report, early Montana.
At one end of the room was an immense grate, and in this Jim heaped the wood so generously left by the unknown tramp or miner, igniting it with a ready match. The ruddy blaze leaped upward and threw generous shadows on the floor. The travellers, sitting close to it, felt the grateful warmth and were content.
All the saddle blankets also had been brought in and piled on one of the saddles. On these Sylvia sat and spread out her hands to the ruddy blaze. To Harley, with the flame of the firelight on her face and the glow of the coals throwing patches of red and gold on her hair, she seemed some brilliant spirit come to light up the gloomy place. Here all was warmth and brightness; outside, the storm moaned through the mountains and the darkness.
"Do you know, I enjoy this," she said, as she looked into the crackling fire.
"So Queen City ain't so bad, ma'am?" said the guide, with dry satisfaction.
"Not bad at all, but very good," she replied, gayly. "Don't you think so, Mr. Harley?"
"I certainly agree with you," replied Harley, devoutly85, "but I'm glad that Queen City is just where it is."
She laughed.
"Daddy has been many a time in the mountains without his Queen City--haven't you, daddy?"
"Often," said "King" Plummer, looking at her with a pleased smile. But he wished that she would not call him "daddy," at least before Harley; it seemed that she could never remember his request; but she had warned him.
"An old hand travellin' in the mountains always purvides for a snowy day," said the guide, and he took from his saddle-bags much food and a large bottle.
They drank a little, all except Sylvia, and ate heartily86. The last touch of cold departed, and the fire still sparkled with good cheer, casting its comforting shadows across the stained floor.
"I've brought in the horse-blankets," said the guide, "an' with them under us, our overcoats over us, an' the fire afore us, we ought to sleep here as snug70 an' warm as a beaver87 in its house."
Sylvia was accustomed to camping in the mountains, and made no fuss, but quietly leaned back against the saddle and the wall, and drew her heavy cloak around her. She was soon half asleep, and the flames, moving off into the distance, seemed to be dancing about in a queer, light-minded fashion.
Harley walked to the window and looked out. The night was black, save for the driving snow, and when he glanced back at the room it seemed a very haven of delight. But the strangeness of their situation, the weird effect of the dead city, with the ghost-like shapes of its houses showing through the snow, was upon his nerves, and he did not feel sleepy.
Muttering some excuse to the others, he went into the hall. It was dark, and a gust2 of cold air from the open window at the end struck him in the face. At the same moment Harley saw what he took to be a light farther down the hall, but when he looked again it was gone.
It might be a delusion88, but the matter troubled him; if a lone tramp or miner were in the building, he wished to know. Any stranger would have a right in the hotel, but there was comradeship and welcome in Jimmy Grayson's party.
Harley's instinct said that all was not right, and, taking off his boots, he crept down the hall and among the cross-halls with noiseless feet. He did not see the light again, but he heard in another room the hum of voices, softened89 so that they might not reach any one save those for whom they were intended. But they reached Harley, crouching90 just behind the edge of the door, and, hearing, he shuddered91. A great danger threatened the nominee for the Presidency of the United States. Such a thing as the present had never before happened in the history of the country.
And that same danger, but in a worse form, perhaps, threatened Sylvia. It was not Harley's fault that a girl had then a greater place than a Presidential nominee in his mind. He shuddered, and then closed his lips firmly in resolve.
The door was still on its hinges, and it was still slightly ajar. Harley, peeping through the crack, saw the eight occupants of the room by the faint light from the window, and because the man who did the talking, and who showed himself so evidently the leader, had red hair, he knew him instinctively92. It was Red Perkins and the remnant of his gang, not scattered to the winds of the West, as Jim and everybody else thought, but here in Montana, in their old haunts. And Harley, listening to their talk, measured the extent of their knowledge, which was far too much; they knew who Jimmy Grayson was, they had known of his departure from Blue Earth, and they had followed him here; presently they would take him away, and the whole world would be thrilled. No such prize had ever fallen into the hands of robbers in America, and it would be worth a million to them.
Harley was in a chill as he listened, because he heard them speak next of Sylvia, and one of them laughed in a way that made the correspondent want to spring at his throat. Sylvia and the candidate must be saved.
But Harley, thinking his hardest, could not think how. There were eight men well armed in the room before him; the guide and Mr. Plummer, probably, had pistols, but he had none, and he was sure that Jimmy Grayson and Mr. Heathcote were without them. He paused there a long time, undecided, and at last he crept down the hall again and towards the great parlor. Then he put on his boots, re-entered the room, and spoke in a low voice to his comrades.
The guide's fighting blood was on fire at once. "I've a revolver," he said; "we kin barricade93 the room and hold 'em off. There are two windows here, opening out on the snow, but they are so high they can hardly reach 'em with their hands. We kin make a good fight of it."
"I've a pistol, too," said Mr. Plummer, "and we must make it a fight to the death."
He spoke quietly, but with determination and a full knowledge of all the danger that threatened. He glanced at Sylvia, who, coming back from her half-dream, had risen to her feet. Then he walked to the door, because the "King" was ever alert in the face of danger.
"What is it?" Sylvia asked of Harley. She knew by their manner that something strange and terrifying had happened, and in such a situation it was now an involuntary act with her to turn to Harley.
"Sylvia," he said--the others had followed "King" Plummer to the door "you ought to know."
He noticed that, though pale, she was quiet and firm.
"If it is danger, I have faced it before," she said, proudly.
"As you will face it now, like the bravest woman in the West. 'Red' Perkins's gang of outlaws are out there, and they mean to take Mr. Grayson to hold for ransom94, and you--"
Her eyes looked straight into his, and suddenly they shone with all the fulness of love and confidence.
"They will not take me while you are here," she said.
"Not if we have to die together. Sylvia, I believed that your heart was mine, and in this moment of danger I know it."
He spoke truly. In the crisis their souls were bare to each other. He seized her hands, and the brilliant color flamed into her cheeks.
"Sylvia!" he exclaimed, in a thrilling whisper.
She gently withdrew her hands from his, and when "King" Plummer turned away from the door he saw nothing.
"There's not a shot to be fired," said Jimmy Grayson, "because I've a better plan. How long do you think it will be before they come for me, Harley?"
"About fifteen minutes, I should say; at least that is what I gathered from their talk."
"And they have not examined the building or the town?"
"No; they merely came down the trail behind us and slipped into that room, waiting their chance."
"Very good. Jim, you told me a while ago that the Governor of Montana once spoke to two hundred people in this room; it was a fortunate remark of yours, because I shall speak to as many people to-night in this same room. Shut the door there, put the saddles before it, and then build the fire as high as possible."
The candidate's voice was sharp, decisive, and full of command. The born leader of men was asserting himself, and the guide, without pausing to reason, hastened to obey. He shut the door, put the saddles before it, and heaped upon the fire all the remaining wood except a stump97 reserved by Jimmy Grayson's express command. The fire leaped higher, and the room was brilliantly lighted.
"Now, gentlemen," he said, "you are a crowd come from Crow's Wing to meet me here, and to hear what I have to say. I trust that you will like it, and indicate your liking99 by your applause."
The stump was placed in the middle of the floor, and Jimmy Grayson stepped upon it. His face at that height was visible through the window to any one outside, although the others would be hidden. Just as he took his place Harley thought he heard the soft crunch100 of a footstep on the snow beneath the window. He felt a burning curiosity to rise and look out, but he restrained it and did not move. The guide was staring at the candidate in open-mouthed amazement101, but he, too, did not speak. A few big white flakes drove in at the open window, but they did not reach the men before the fire that blazed so brightly. Harley again thought he heard the soft shuffle102 of footsteps on the snow outside, but then the burning wood crackled merrily, and Jimmy Grayson was about to speak.
Sylvia stood erect against the wall, her glowing eyes full of admiration103. Her quick mind had grasped the whole plan.
"Gentlemen of Crow's Wing," said the candidate, in his full, penetrating104 voice, which the empty old building gave back in many an echo, "it is, indeed, a pleasure to me to meet you here. The circumstances, the situation, are such as to inspire any one who has been so honored. I should like to have seen your little town, the home of brave and honest men, nestling as it does among these mighty mountains, and far from the rest of the world, but strong and self-reliant. I appreciate, too, your kindness and your thought for me. Seeing the advance of the storm, and knowing its dangers, you have come to meet me in this place, once so full of life. I find something singularly appealing and pathetic in this. Once again, if only for a brief space, Queen City shall ring with human voices and the human tread."
The candidate paused a moment, as if the end of a rounded period had come and he were gathering105 strength for another. Then suddenly arose a mighty chorus of applause. It was Harley, "King" Plummer, Heathcote, and Jim, and their act was spontaneous, the inspiration of the moment, drawn106 from Jimmy Grayson's own inspiration. The guide beat upon the floor with both hands and both feet, and the other three were not less active. Moreover, the guide opened his mouth and let forth107 a yell, rapid, cumulative108, and so full of volume that it sounded like the whoop109 of at least a half-dozen men. The room resounded110 with the applause, and it thundered down the halls of the great empty building. When it died, Harley, listening again intently, heard once more the crunch of feet on the snow outside, but now it was a rapid movement as if of surprise. But the sound came to him only a moment, because the candidate was speaking once more, and he was worth hearing. He only looked away to see Sylvia, who still stood against the wall with her glowing eyes fixed111 in admiration on her uncle. Once or twice she, too, glanced aside, and her gaze was for Harley. But it was a different look that she gave him. There was admiration in it, too, and also a love that no woman ever gives to a mere96 uncle. In those moments the color in her cheeks deepened.
As an orator12 Jimmy Grayson was always good, but sometimes he was better than at other times, and this evening was one of his best times. The audience from Crow's Wing, the consideration they had shown in meeting him here in the dead city, and the wildness of the night outside seemed to inspire him. He showed the greatest familiarity with the life of the mountains and the needs of the miners; he was one of them, he sympathized with them, he entered their homes, and if he could he would make their lives brighter.
Never had the candidate spoken to a more appreciative112 audience. With foot and hand and voice it thundered its applause; the building echoed with it, and all the time the fire burned higher and higher, and the merry crackling of the wood was a minor113 note in the chorus of applause. But Jimmy Grayson's own voice was like an organ, every key of which he played; it expressed every human emotion; full and swelling114, it rose above the applause, and Harley, watching his expressive115 face, saw that he felt these emotions. Once he believed that the candidate, carried away by his own feelings, had become oblivious116 of time and place, and thought now only of the troubles and needs of the mountain men.
Harley's attention turned once more to the windows. He thought what a lucky chance it was that no one standing on the ground outside was high enough to look through them into the room. He blessed the unknown builder, and then he tried to hear that familiar shuffle on the snow, but he did not hear it again.
Jimmy Grayson spoke on and on, and the applause kept pace, until at last the guide slipped quietly from the room. When he returned, a quarter of an hour later, the candidate was still speaking, but Jim gave him a signal look and he stopped abruptly117.
"They are gone," said Jim. "They must have been gone a full hour. The snow has stopped, and I guess they are at least ten miles from here, runnin' for their lives. They knew that if the men of Crow's Wing put hands on 'em they'd be hangin' from a limb ten minutes after."
"Say, Mr. Harley," whispered the guide to the correspondent, "I've heard some great speeches in my time, but to-night's was the greatest."
The candidate spoke the next day at Crow's Wing, and his audience was delighted. But Jim was right. The speech was not as great as the one he had made at Queen City.
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1
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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4
nominee
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| n.被提名者；被任命者；被推荐者 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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11
oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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presidency
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| n.总统(校长，总经理)的职位(任期) | |
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14
deficient
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| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
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15
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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16
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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18
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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19
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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20
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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21
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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23
gilding
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| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
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24
crests
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| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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25
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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26
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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27
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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28
irrigated
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| [医]冲洗的 | |
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29
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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30
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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31
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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32
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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35
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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36
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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37
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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38
arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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40
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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41
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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42
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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43
outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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45
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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46
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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47
cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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48
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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49
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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50
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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51
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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52
clefts
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| n.裂缝( cleft的名词复数 )；裂口；cleave的过去式和过去分词；进退维谷 | |
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53
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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54
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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56
flake
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| v.使成薄片；雪片般落下；n.薄片 | |
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57
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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58
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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59
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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60
saturnine
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| adj.忧郁的，沉默寡言的，阴沉的，感染铅毒的 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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63
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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66
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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67
cones
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| n.（人眼）圆锥细胞；圆锥体( cone的名词复数 )；球果；圆锥形东西；（盛冰淇淋的）锥形蛋卷筒 | |
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68
sublimity
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| 崇高，庄严，气质高尚 | |
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69
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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70
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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71
snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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72
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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75
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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76
weirdness
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| n.古怪，离奇，不可思议 | |
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rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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78
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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79
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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80
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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81
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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82
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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83
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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84
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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85
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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86
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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87
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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88
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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89
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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90
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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91
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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92
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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93
barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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95
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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96
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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97
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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98
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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99
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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100
crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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101
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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102
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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103
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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104
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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105
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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106
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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107
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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108
cumulative
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| adj.累积的，渐增的 | |
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109
whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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110
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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111
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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112
appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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113
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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114
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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115
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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116
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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117
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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118
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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