Toward noon Poche was carefully feeling his way down the rocky cañon of Clinker Creek2, over a forgotten road. Oliver walked, for Poche needs must scramble3 over huge boulders4, fallen pines, and tangles5 of driftwood. The road followed the course of the creek for the most part, and in many places the creek had broken through and washed great gaps.
But the country was delightful6. Wild grapevines grew in profusion7 at the creekside, gracefully8 festooned from overhanging buckeye limbs. Odorous alders10, several varieties of willow11, and white oak also followed the watercourse; and up on the hills on either side were black oaks and live oaks, together with yellow and sugar and digger pines, and spruce. Everywhere grew the now significant poison oak.
Finally Poche scraped through chaparral that almost hid the road and came out in a clearing. Oliver at last stood looking at his future home.
A quaint12 old cabin, with a high peaked roof, apparently13 in better repair than he had expected, stood on a little rise above the creek. The cañon widened here, and narrowed again farther down. The creek bowed and followed the base of the steep hills to the west. A level strip of land comprising about an acre paralleled the creek, and invited tillage. All about the clearing, perhaps fifteen acres in area, stood tall pines and spruce, and magnificent oaks rose above the cabin, their great limbs sprawled14 over it protectingly. Acres and acres of heavy, impenetrable chaparral covered both steep slopes beyond the conifers.
For several minutes Oliver drank in the beauty of it, then heaved himself into the saddle and galloped15 to the cabin over the unobstructed land.
He loosed Poche when the saddle and bridle16 were off, and the horse eagerly buried his muzzle17 in the tall green grass. Up in the branches paired California linnets, red breasted for their love season, went over plans and specifications18 for nest-building with much conversation and flit-flit of feathered wings. Wild canaries engaged in a like pursuit. Overhead in the heavens an eagle sailed. From the sunny chaparral came the scolding quit-quit-quit of mother quail19, while the pompous20 cocks perched themselves at the tops of manzanita bushes and whistled, "Cut that out! Cut that out!" All Nature was home-building; and Oliver forgot the loss of the fortune he had expected at his father's death and caught the spirit.
He collected oak limbs and built a fire. He carried water from the creek and set it on to boil. While waiting for this he strolled about, revelling21 in the soft spring air, fragrant22 with the smell of wild flowers.
That the cabin had been occupied often by hunters and other wanderers in the cañon was evidenced by the many carvings24 on the door and signs of bygone campfires all about. He stepped upon the rotting porch and studied the monograms25, initials, and flippant messages of the lonely men who had passed that way.
"All hope abandon, ye who enter here" was carved in ancient letters just under the lintel of the door. Next he was informed that "Fools names, like their faces, are always seen in public places." "Only a sucker would live here" was the parting decision of some disgruntled guest. "Home, Sweet Home" adorned26 the bottom of the door. One panel had proved an excellent target, and no less than twenty bullet holes had made a sieve27 of it. "Welcome, Wanderer!" and "Dew drop Inn" and "Though lost to sight to memory dear" occupied conspicuous28 places. Then on the right-hand frame he noticed this:
The carving23 was neatly29 executed. The leaves represented were indisputably those of the poison oak.
Had some one carved this in a jocular effort to warn chance visitors to the place of the danger of the poison weed? Or did the carving represent the emblem30 of the Poison Oakers?
Oliver smiled grimly and opened the door.
He passed through the three small rooms of the house and investigated the loft31. The structure seemed solid. A new roof would be necessary, and new windows and frames and a new porch; and as Oliver was no mean carpenter, he thought he could make the cabin snug32 and tight for seventy-five dollars.
The front door had closed of itself, he found, when he started back to his campfire. He stopped in the main room, and a smile, slightly bitter, flickered33 across his lips. As neatly carved as was the symbol of the Poison Oakers outside—if that was what it was—and evidently executed by the same hand, was this, on the inside of the door:
JESSAMY, MY SWEETHEART
Oliver went on out and squatted34 over his fire, peeling potatoes. His blue eyes grew studious. In the flickering35 blaze he saw the picture of a black-eyed, black-haired girl on a white horse crouched36 on its haunches.
"Great Scott!" he muttered. "I'll have to forget that!"
In the month that followed, Oliver Drew, spurred by feverish37 enthusiasm, worked miracles on the Old Tabor Ivison Place. He repaired the line fences and rehabilitated38 the cabin; bought a burro and pack-saddle and packed in lumber39 and tools and household necessities; fenced off his experimental garden on the level land with rabbit-tight netting; cleaned and boxed the spring; and early in May was following the spading up of his garden plot by planting vegetable seed.
With all this behind him, he went at the clearing of the road that connected him with his kind. Today as he laboured with pick and shovel40 and bar he was cheerful, though his thoughts clung to the subject of his father's death and the odd situation in which it had left him. He had fully1 expected to inherit properties and money to the extent of a hundred thousand dollars. He was not particularly resentful because this had not come to pass, for he never had been a pampered41 young man; but the mystery of his father's last message puzzled and chagrined42 him.
He would always remember Peter Drew as a peculiar43 man. He had been a kindly44 father, but a reticent45 one. There were many pages in his past that never had been opened to his son. Oliver was the child of Peter Drew's second wife. About the queer old Westerner's former marriage he had been told practically nothing.
Believing his father to have been of sound mind when he penned that last strange communication, Oliver could not hold that the situation which it imposed was not for the best. Surely old Peter Drew had had some wise reason for his act, and in the end Oliver would know what it was. He had been told to seek the Clinker Creek Country to learn the question that had puzzled his father for thirty years, to decide whether the proper answer was Yes or No, and communicate his decision to his father's lawyers. That was all. When in the wisdom which his father had supposed would be the natural result of his son's university training he had made his decision and placed it before these legal gentlemen, what would happen? Speculation46 over this led nowhere.
At first it had seemed to Oliver that the mission with which he had been intrusted was more or less a secret matter, and that he must keep still about it. Then as the staunch cow-pony bore him nearer and nearer to the Clinker Creek Country it gradually dawned upon him that, by so doing, he might stand a poor chance of even finding out what had puzzled his sire. To say nothing of the answer which he was to seek. It was then he decided47 that he had nothing to hide and must place his situation before the people of the country who would likely be able to help him. Hence his confidences to Mr. Damon Tamroy.
Tamroy had aided him not at all; but the 'Forty-niner, Old Dad Sloan, knew something. Dan Smeed, outlaw48, highwayman, had owned a saddle and bridle like Oliver's. The old man had mysteriously mentioned the lost mine of Bolivio, and had said the settings in Oliver's conchas were gems49. If only the old man could be made to talk!
The muffled50 thud of a horse's hoofs51 came between the strokes of Oliver's pick. With an odd and unfamiliar52 sensation he glimpsed a white horse and rider approaching through the pines.
It was she—Jessamy Selden—the black-haired, black-eyed girl of whom he reluctantly had thought so often since his first day in the Clinker Creek Country.
She was riding straight down the cañon, the white mare53 gingerly picking her way between boulders and snarls54 of driftwood. The girl looked up. Oliver felt that she saw him. Her ears could not have been insensible to the ring of his pick on the flinty stones. She did not leave the trail, however, but continued on in his direction.
He rested on the handle of his tool and waited.
"Good morning," he ventured, sweeping55 off his battered56 hat, as the mare stopped without pressure on the reins57 and gravely contemplated58 him.
The girl smiled and returned his greeting brightly.
"If you had waited a few days longer for your ride down here," said Oliver, "I'd have had a better trail for you."
"Oh, I don't know that I want it any better," she laughed. "I like things pretty much as they are, when Old Mother Nature has built them. I ride down this way frequently."
She was no fragile reed, this girl. She was rather more substantially built than most members of her sex. Her figure was straight and tall and rounded, and her strong, graceful9 neck upreared itself proudly between sturdy shoulders. Grace and strength, rather than purely59 feminine beauty, predominated in the impression she created in Oliver. She wore a man's Stetson hat over her lavish60 crown of coal-black hair, a man's flannel61 shirt, a whipcord divided skirt, and dark-russet riding boots. The saddle that she rode in had not been built for a woman to handle, and, with its long, pointed62 tapaderos, must have weighed close to fifty pounds. The steady, friendly, confident gaze of her large black eyes was thrilling. A man instinctively63 felt that, if he could win this woman, he would have acquired a wife among a thousand, a loyal friend and comrade, and a partner who could and would shoulder more than a woman's share of their load.
Still, Oliver knew nothing at all about her. What he had heard of her was not exactly of the best. Yet he felt that she was gloriously all right, and did not try to argue otherwise.
"Well, I suppose I must introduce myself first," she was saying in her full, ringing tones. "I'm Jessamy Selden. My name is not Selden, though, but Lomax. When my mother married Adam Selden I took her new name. I heard somebody had moved onto the Old Ivison Place, and I deliberately64 rode down to get acquainted."
"You waited a month, I notice," Oliver laughingly reproached. "My name is Oliver Drew. If you'll get off your horse I'll tell you what a wonderful man I am."
She swung to the ground and held out a strong, brown, ungloved hand.
"I'll walk to your cabin with you," she said, "if you'll invite me. I'd like to see how you've been improving your time since your arrival."
Scarce able to find words with which to meet such delightful frankness, Oliver walked beside her, the white mare following and nosing at his pockets to prove that she was a privileged character.
The girl loosed her within the inclosure, and let her drag her reins. Poche trotted65 up to make the white's acquaintance, followed by the new mouse-coloured burro, Smith, who long since had assumed a "where thou goest I will go" affection for the bay saddler.
Jessamy Selden came to a stop before the cabin, her black eyes dancing.
"Who would have thought," she said in low tones, "that the Clinker Creek people ever would see the old Ivison cabin rebuilt and inhabited once more! How sturdily it must have been built to stand up against wind and storm all these years. Are you going to invite me in and show me around?" She levelled that direct glance at him and showed her white teeth in a smile.
Oliver was thinking of the carving on the inside of the old door, "Jessamy, My Sweetheart." He had not replaced the door with a new one, for every penny counted. It still was serviceable; and, besides, there seemed to be a sort of companionship about the carved observations of the unknowns who had been sheltered by the old cabin during the past fifteen years.
"You've been in the house often, I suppose?" He made it a question.
"Oh, yes," she said. "I've lunched in it many a time, and have run in out of the rain during winter months. I slept in it all night once."
"You seem to be an independent sort of young woman," suggested Oliver.
"I'm a rather lonely sort of woman, if that's what you mean," she replied. "Yes, I ride about lots alone. I like it. Don't you want me to go in?"
He led the way, and stood back for her at the door. He would leave the door open, swung back into the corner, he thought, so that she would not see the carving. She had been in the cabin many times. Did she know the carving to be there? Of course it might have been executed since her last visit, though it did not seem very fresh. Who had carved the words? Oliver could imagine any of the young Clinker Creek swains as being secretly in love with this marvellous girl, and pouring out his tortured soul through the blade of his jack-knife when securely hidden from profane67 eyes in this vast wilderness68.
She passed complimentary69 remarks about his practically built home-made furniture, and the neatness and necessary simplicity70 of everything.
"What an old maid you are for one so young!" she laughed. "And, please, what's the typewriter for—if I'm not too bold?"
"Well," said Oliver, "it occurred to me that I must make a living down here. I'm a graduate of the State College of Agriculture, and I like to farm and write about it. I've sold several articles to agricultural papers. I'm going to experiment here, and try to make a living by writing up the results!"
"Why, how perfectly71 fine!" she cried enthusiastically. "I couldn't imagine anything more engrossing72. I'm a State University girl."
"You don't say!"
And this furnished a topic for ten minutes' conversation.
"If you're as good a writer and farmer as you are tinker and carpenter," she observed, passing into the front room again, "you'll do splendidly." She was standing73, straight as a young spruce, hands on hips74, looking with twinkling eyes at the open door. "The old door still hangs, I see," she murmured. "Now just why didn't you replace it, Mr. Drew?"
Oliver looked apprehensive75. "Well," he replied hesitatingly, "for several reasons. First, a new door costs money, and so would the lumber with which to make one—and I haven't much of that article. Second, I get some amusement from looking at those old carvings and speculating on the possible personalities76 of the carvers. For all I know, some great celebrities77' ideas may be among those expressed there—some future great man, at any rate. The boy one meets in the street may one day be president, you know. Then there's a sort of companionship about those names and monograms and quotations78. The fellow that informs me that only suckers live here I'd like to meet. He was so blunt about it, so sure. He—er—"
Smiling, she had stepped to the door and, arms still akimbo, allowed her glance to travel from one design to another. She raised an arm and levelled a finger.
"What do you think of that one?" she asked.
"Well," said Oliver, "that's a rather well executed poison oak leaf. The hills are covered with the plant. I imagine that some wanderer not immune from the poison came into contact with it, and, though his eyes were swelled79 half shut and his fingers itched80 and tingled81, his right hand had not lost its cunning. So he took out his trusty blade and carved a warning for all future pilgrims who chanced this way to beware of this tree that is in the midst of the garden, and to not touch it lest they—"
"Itch," Jessamy gravely put in. "Quite pretty and poetic," she supplemented. "But you are entirely82 wrong, Mr. Drew. That carving is, first of all, a copy of the brand of Old Man Selden, and you'll find it on all his cows. All but the word 'Beware,' of course, you understand. Second, it represents the silly symbol of a gang that infests83 this country known as the Poison Oakers. Oh, you've heard of them!" she had turned suddenly and surprised the look on his face.
"It sounds very bloodthirsty," he laughed confusedly.
"I'll tell you more, then, when I know you better," she said. "No, I'll tell you today," she added quickly.
Then before he could make a move she had closed the door to examine what might be carved on the inner side.
"Tell me now," said Oliver quickly. "Try this chair here by the window. I'm rather proud of this one. It's my first attempt at a morris ch—"
"Come here, please," she commanded, standing with her back to him.
"Don't act so like a boy," she reproved as he dutifully stepped up behind her. "Anybody would know you are clumsily trying to detract my attention from—that."
The brown finger was pointing straight at JESSAMY, MY SWEETHEART.
She turned and levelled her frank, unabashed eyes straight at his.
"So that's why you hesitated about inviting84 me in," she stated, her lips twitching85 and dimples appearing and disappearing in her cheeks.
Her glance did not leave him. "Mr. Tamroy told me he had mentioned me to you," she said. "So of course you knew, when you saw this carving, that I was the subject of the raving87. And when you saw me you wished to spare me embarrassment88. Thank you. But you see I'm not at all embarrassed. I have never before seen this masterpiece in wood, and imagine it has been done since I was in the cabin last. Let's see—I doubt if I've been inside for a year or more. I think perhaps Mr. Digger Foss is the one who tried to make his emotions deathless by this work of art. 'Jessamy, My Sweetheart,' eh?" She threw back her glorious head and laughed till two tears streamed down her tanned cheeks. "Poor Digger!" she said soberly at last. "I suppose he does love me."
"Who wouldn't," thought Oliver, but bit his lips instead of speaking.
"You may leave that, Mr. Drew," she told him, "until you get ready to replace the old door with a new one. I would not have the irrefutable evidence of at least one conquest blotted89 out for worlds. Now let's go out in that glorious sunlight, and I'll tell you about Old Man Selden and the Poison Oakers."
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1
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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4
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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tangles
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| （使）缠结， （使）乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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6
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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alders
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| n.桤木( alder的名词复数 ) | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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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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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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specifications
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| n.规格；载明；详述；（产品等的）说明书；说明书( specification的名词复数 )；详细的计划书；载明；详述 | |
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quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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revelling
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| v.作乐( revel的现在分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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monograms
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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sieve
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| n.筛，滤器，漏勺 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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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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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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rehabilitated
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| 改造（罪犯等）( rehabilitate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使恢复正常生活； 使恢复原状； 修复 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chagrined
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| adj.懊恼的，苦恼的v.使懊恼，使懊丧，使悔恨( chagrin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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49
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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50
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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51
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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52
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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53
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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54
snarls
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| n.（动物的）龇牙低吼( snarl的名词复数 )；愤怒叫嚷（声）；咆哮（声）；疼痛叫声v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的第三人称单数 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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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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complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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engrossing
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| adj.使人全神贯注的，引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
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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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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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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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itched
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| v.发痒( itch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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infests
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| n.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的名词复数 )；遍布于v.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的第三人称单数 )；遍布于 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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