the jacket (the star-rover)-第28章

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back　through　the　silence　and　the　dark　ere　she　had　been　born；　back　to

the　light　of　a　previous　living　when　she　was　a　bed…ridden　old　man；

the　ex…artilleryman；　Jean…Claude　Bourdon。　　And　I　believe　that

Colonel　de　Rochas　did　truly　hypnotize　this　resurrected　shade　of　the

old　man　and；　by　compulsion　of　will；　send　him　back　through　the

seventy　years　of　his　life；　back　into　the　dark　and　through　the　dark

into　the　light　of　day　when　he　had　been　the　wicked　old　woman；

Philomene　Carteron。



Already；　have　I　not　shown　you；　my　reader；　that　in　previous　times；

inhabiting　various　cloddy　aggregates　of　matter；　I　have　been　Count

Guillaume　de　Sainte…Maure；　a　mangy　and　nameless　hermit　of　Egypt；　and

the　boy　Jesse；　whose　father　was　captain　of　forty　wagons　in　the　great

westward　emigration。　　And；　also；　am　I　not　now；　as　I　write　these

lines；　Darrell　Sanding；　under　sentence　of　death　in　Folsom　Prison　and

one　time　professor　of　agronomy　in　the　College　of　Agriculture　of　the

University　of　California？



Matter　is　the　great　illusion。　　That　is；　matter　manifests　itself　in

form；　and　form　is　apparitional。　　Where；　now；　are　the　crumbling　rock…

cliffs　of　old　Egypt　where　once　I　laired　me　like　a　wild　beast　while　I

dreamed　of　the　City　of　God？　　Where；　now；　is　the　body　of　Guillaume　de

Sainte…Maure　that　was　thrust　through　on　the　moonlit　grass　so　long

ago　by　the　flame…headed　Guy　de　Villehardouin？　　Where；　now；　are　the

forty　great　wagons　in　the　circle　at　Nephi；　and　all　the　men　and　women

and　children　and　lean　cattle　that　sheltered　inside　that　circle？　　All

such　things　no　longer　are；　for　they　were　forms；　manifestations　of

fluxing　matter　ere　they　melted　into　the　flux　again。　　They　have

passed　and　are　not。



And　now　my　argument　becomes　plain。　　The　spirit　is　the　reality　that

endures。　　I　am　spirit；　and　I　endure。　　I；　Darrell　Standing；　the

tenant　of　many　fleshly　tenements；　shall　write　a　few　more　lines　of

these　memoirs　and　then　pass　on　my　way。　　The　form　of　me　that　is　my

body　will　fall　apart　when　it　has　been　sufficiently　hanged　by　the

neck；　and　of　it　naught　will　remain　in　all　the　world　of　matter。　　In

the　world　of　spirit　the　memory　of　it　will　remain。　　Matter　has　no

memory；　because　its　forms　are　evanescent；　and　what　is　engraved　on

its　forms　perishes　with　the　forms。



One　word　more　ere　I　return　to　my　narrative。　　In　all　my　journeys

through　the　dark　into　other　lives　that　have　been　mine　I　have　never

been　able　to　guide　any　journey　to　a　particular　destination。　　Thus

many　new　experiences　of　old　lives　were　mine　before　ever　I　chanced　to

return　to　the　boy　Jesse　at　Nephi。　　Possibly；　all　told；　I　have　lived

over　Jesse's　experiences　a　score　of　times；　sometimes　taking　up　his

career　when　he　was　quite　small　in　the　Arkansas　settlements；　and　at

least　a　dozen　times　carrying　on　past　the　point　where　I　left　him　at

Nephi。　　It　were　a　waste　of　time　to　detail　the　whole　of　it；　and　so；

without　prejudice　to　the　verity　of　my　account；　I　shall　skip　much

that　is　vague　and　tortuous　and　repetitional；　and　give　the　facts　as　I

have　assembled　them　out　of　the　various　times；　in　whole　and　part；　as

I　relived　them。







CHAPTER　XIII







Long　before　daylight　the　camp　at　Nephi　was　astir。　　The　cattle　were

driven　out　to　water　and　pasture。　　While　the　men　unchained　the　wheels

and　drew　the　wagons　apart　and　clear　for　yoking　in；　the　women　cooked

forty　breakfasts　over　forty　fires。　　The　children；　in　the　chill　of

dawn；　clustered　about　the　fires；　sharing　places；　here　and　there；

with　the　last　relief　of　the　night…watch　waiting　sleepily　for　coffee。



It　requires　time　to　get　a　large　train　such　as　ours　under　way；　for

its　speed　is　the　speed　of　the　slowest。　　So　the　sun　was　an　hour　high

and　the　day　was　already　uncomfortably　hot　when　we　rolled　out　of

Nephi　and　on　into　the　sandy　barrens。　　No　inhabitant　of　the　place　saw

us　off。　　All　chose　to　remain　indoors；　thus　making　our　departure　as

ominous　as　they　had　made　our　arrival　the　night　before。



Again　it　was　long　hours　of　parching　heat　and　biting　dust；　sage…brush

and　sand；　and　a　land　accursed。　　No　dwellings　of　men；　neither　cattle

nor　fences；　nor　any　sign　of　human　kind；　did　we　encounter　all　that

day；　and　at　night　we　made　our　wagon…circle　beside　an　empty　stream；

in　the　damp　sand　of　which　we　dug　many　holes　that　filled　slowly　with

water　seepage。



Our　subsequent　journey　is　always　a　broken　experience　to　me。　　We　made

camp　so　many　times；　always　with　the　wagons　drawn　in　circle；　that　to

my　child　mind　a　weary　long　time　passed　after　Nephi。　　But　always；

strong　upon　all　of　us；　was　that　sense　of　drifting　to　an　impending

and　certain　doom。



We　averaged　about　fifteen　miles　a　day。　　I　know；　for　my　father　had

said　it　was　sixty　miles　to　Fillmore；　the　next　Mormon　settlement；　and

we　made　three　camps　on　the　way。　　This　meant　four　days　of　travel。

From　Nephi　to　the　last　camp　of　which　I　have　any　memory　we　must　have

taken　two　weeks　or　a　little　less。



At　Fillmore　the　inhabitants　were　hostile；　as　all　had　been　since　Salt

Lake。　　They　laughed　at　us　when　we　tried　to　buy　food；　and　were　not

above　taunting　us　with　being　Missourians。



When　we　entered　the　place；　hitched　before　the　largest　house　of　the

dozen　houses　that　composed　the　settlement　were　two　saddle…horses；

dusty；　streaked　with　sweat；　and　drooping。　　The　old　man　I　have

mentioned；　the　one　with　long；　sunburnt　hair　and　buckskin　shirt　and

who　seemed　a　sort　of　aide　or　lieutenant　to　father；　rode　close　to　our

wagon　and　indicated　the　jaded　saddle…animals　with　a　cock　of　his

head。



〃Not　sparin'　horseflesh；　Captain；〃　he　muttered　in　a　low　voice。　　〃An'

what　in　the　name　of　Sam　Hill　are　they　hard…riding　for　if　it　ain't

for　us？〃



But　my　father　had　already　noted　the　condition　of　the　two　animals；

and　my　eager　eyes　had　seen　him。　　And　I　had　seen　his　eyes　flash；　his

lips　tighten；　and　haggard　lines　form　for　a　moment　on　his　dusty　face。

That　was　all。　　But　I　put　two　and　two　together；　and　knew　that　the　two

tired　saddle…horses　were　just　one　more　added　touch　of　ominousness　to

the　situation。



〃I　guess　they're　keeping　an　eye　on　us；　Laban；〃　was　my　father's　sole

comment。



It　was　at　Fillmore　that　I　saw　a　man　that　I　was　to　see　again。　　He　was

a　tall；　broad…shouldered　man；　well　on　in　middle　age；　with　all　the

evidence　of　good　health　and　immense　strengthstrength　not　alone　of

body　but　of　will。　　Unlike　most　men　I　was　accustomed　to　about　me；　he

was　smooth…shaven。　　Several　days'　growth　of　beard　showed　that　he　was

already　well…grayed。　　His　mouth　was　unusually　wide；　with　thin　lips

tightly　compressed　as　if　he　had　lost　many　of　his　front　teeth。　　His

nose　was　large；　square；　and　thick。　　So　was　his　face　square；　wide

between　the　cheekbones；　underhung　with　massive　jaws；　and　topped　with

a　broad；　intelligent　forehead。　　And　the　eyes；　rather　small；　a　little

more　than　the　width　of　an　eye　apart；　were　the　bluest　blue　I　had　ever

seen。



It　was　at　the　flour…mill　at　Fillmore　that　I　first　saw　this　man。

Father；　with　several　of　our　company；　had　gone　there　to　try　to　buy

flour；　and　I；　disobeying　my　mother　in　my　curiosity　to　see　more　of

our　enemies；　had　tagged　along　unperceived。　　This　man　was　one　of　four

or　five　who　stood　in　a　group　with　the　miller　during　the　interview。



〃You　seen　that　smooth…faced　old　cuss？〃　Laban　said　to　father；　after

we　had　got　outside　and　were　returning　to　camp。



Father　nodded。



〃Well；　that's　Lee；〃　Laban　continued。　　〃I　seen'm　in　Salt　Lake。　　He's

a　regular　son…of…a…gun。　　Got　nineteen　wives　and　fifty　children；　they

all　say。　　An'　he's　rank　crazy　on　religion。　　Now；　what's　he　followin'

us　up　for　through　this　God…forsaken　country？〃



Our　weary；　doomed　drifting　went　on。　　The　little　settlements；

wherever　water　and　soil　permitted；　were　from　twenty　to　fifty　miles

apart。　　Between　stretched　the　barrenness　of　sand　and　alkali　and

drought。　　And　at　every　settlement　our　peaceful　attempts　to　buy　food

were　vain。　　They　denied　us　harshly；　and　wanted　to　know　who　of　us　had

sold　them　food　when　we　drove　them　from　Missouri。　　It　was　useless　o