riders of the purple sage-第69章
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ow； wondrous transformation。
Suddenly Venters was startled by a low； rumbling roarso low that it was like the roar in a sea…shell。
〃Bess； did you hear anything？〃 he whispered。
〃No。〃
〃Listen！。。。Maybe I only imaginedAh！〃
Out of the east or north from remote distance； breathed an infinitely low； continuously long sounddeep； weird； detonating； thundering； deadeningdying。
CHAPTER XXIII。 THE FALL OF BALANCING ROCK
Through tear…blurred sight Jane Withersteen watched Venters and Elizabeth Erne and the black racers disappear over the ridge of sage。
〃They're gone！〃 said Lassiter。 〃An' they're safe now。 An' there'll never be a day of their comin' happy lives but what they'll remember Jane Withersteen an'an' Uncle Jim！。。。I reckon； Jane； we'd better be on our way。〃
The burros obediently wheeled and started down the break with little cautious steps； but Lassiter had to leash the whining dogs and lead them。 Jane felt herself bound in a feeling that was neither listlessness nor indifference； yet which rendered her incapable of interest。 She was still strong in body； but emotionally tired。 That hour at the entrance to Deception Pass had been the climax of her sufferingthe flood of her wraththe last of her sacrificethe supremity of her loveand the attainment of peace。 She thought that if she had little Fay she would not ask any more of life。
Like an automaton she followed Lassiter down the steep trail of dust and bits of weathered stone； and when the little slides moved with her or piled around her knees she experienced no alarm。 Vague relief came to her in the sense of being enclosed between dark stone walls； deep hidden from the glare of sun； from the glistening sage。 Lassiter lengthened the stirrup straps on one of the burros and bade her mount and ride close to him。 She was to keep the burro from cracking his little hard hoofs on stones。 Then she was riding on between dark； gleaming walls。 There were quiet and rest and coolness in this canyon。 She noted indifferently that they passed close under shady； bulging shelves of cliff； through patches of grass and sage and thicket and groves of slender trees； and over white； pebbly washes； and around masses of broken rock。 The burros trotted tirelessly； the dogs； once more free； pattered tirelessly； and Lassiter led on with never a stop； and at every open place he looked back。 The shade under the walls gave place to sunlight。 And presently they came to a dense thicket of slender trees； through which they passed to rich； green grass and water。 Here Lassiter rested the burros for a little while； but he was restless； uneasy； silent； always listening； peering under the trees。 She dully reflected that enemies were behind thembefore them； still the thought awakened no dread or concern or interest。
At his bidding she mounted and rode on close to the heels of his burro。 The canyon narrowed； the walls lifted their rugged rims higher； and the sun shone down hot from the center of the blue stream of sky above。 Lassiter traveled slower； with more exceeding care as to the ground he chose； and he kept speaking low to the dogs。 They were now hunting…dogskeen； alert； suspicious； sniffing the warm breeze。 The monotony of the yellow walls broke in change of color and smooth surface； and the rugged outline of rims grew craggy。 Splits appeared in deep breaks； and gorges running at right angles； and then the Pass opened wide at a junction of intersecting canyons。
Lassiter dismounted； led his burro； called the dogs close； and proceeded at snail pace through dark masses of rock and dense thickets under the left wall。 Long he watched and listened before venturing to cross the mouths of side canyons。 At length he halted； fled his burro； lifted a warning hand to Jane； and then slipped away among the boulders； and； followed by the stealthy dogs； disappeared from sight。 The time he remained absent was neither short nor long to Jane Withersteen。
When he reached her side again he was pale； and his lips were set in a hard line； and his gray eyes glittered coldly。 Bidding her dismount； he led the burros into a covert of stones and cedars； and tied them。
〃Jane； I've run into the fellers I've been lookin' for； an' I'm goin' after them；〃 he said。
〃Why？〃 she asked。
〃I reckon I won't take time to tell you。〃
〃Couldn't we slip by without being seen？〃
〃Likely enough。 But that ain't my game。 An' I'd like to know； in case I don't come back； what you'll do。〃
〃What can I do？〃
〃I reckon you can go back to Tull。 Or stay in the Pass an' be taken off by rustlers。 Which'll you do？〃
〃I don't know。 I can't think very well。 But I believe I'd rather be taken off by rustlers。〃
Lassiter sat down； put his head in his hands； and remained for a few moments in what appeared to be deep and painful thought。 When he lifted his face it was haggard； lined； cold as sculptured marble。
〃I'll go。 I only mentioned that chance of my not comin' back。 I'm pretty sure to come。〃
〃Need you risk so much？ Must you fight more？ Haven't you shed enough blood？〃
〃I'd like to tell you why I'm goin'；〃 he continued； in coldness he had seldom used to her。 She remarked it； but it was the same to her as if he had spoken with his old gentle warmth。 〃But I reckon I won't。 Only； I'll say that mercy an' goodness； such as is in you； though they're the grand things in human nature； can't be lived up to on this Utah border。 Life's hell out here。 You thinkor you used to thinkthat your religion made this life heaven。 Mebbe them scales on your eyes has dropped now。 Jane； I wouldn't have you no different； an' that's why I'm going to try to hide you somewhere in this Pass。 I'd like to hide many more women； for I've come to see there are more like you among your people。 An' I'd like you to see jest how hard an' cruel this border life is。 It's bloody。 You'd think churches an' churchmen would make it better。 They make it worse。 You give names to thingsbishops； elders； ministers； Mormonism； duty； faith； glory。 You dreamor you're driven mad。 I'm a man； an' I know。 I name fanatics； followers； blind women； oppressors； thieves； ranchers； rustlers； riders。 An' we havewhat you've lived through these last months。 It can't be helped。 But it can't last always。 An' remember hissome day the border'll be better； cleaner； for the ways of ten like Lassiter！〃
She saw him shake his tall form erect； look at her strangely and steadfastly； and then； noiselessly； stealthily slip away amid the rocks and trees。 Ring and Whitie； not being bidden to follow； remained with Jane。 She felt extreme weariness； yet somehow it did not seem to be of her body。 And she sat down in the shade and tried to think。 She saw a creeping lizard； cactus flowers； the drooping burros； the resting dogs； an eagle high over a yellow crag。 Once the meanest flower； a color； the flight of the bee； or any living thing had given her deepest joy。 Lassiter had gone off； yielding to his incurable blood lust； probably to his own death； and she was sorry； but there was no feeling in her sorrow。
Suddenly from the mouth of the canyon just beyond her rang out a clear； sharp report of a rifle。 Echoes clapped。 Then followed a piercingly high yell of anguish； quickly breaking。 Again echoes clapped； in grim imitation。 Dull revolver shotshoarse yellspound of hoofsshrill neighs of horsescommingling of echoesand again silence！ Lassiter must be busily engaged； thought Jane； and no chill trembled over her； no blanching tightened her skin。 Yes； the border was a bloody place。 But life had always been bloody。 Men were blood…spillers。 Phases of the history of the world flashed through her mindGreek and Roman wars； dark； mediaeval times； the crimes in the name of religion。 On sea； on land； everywhereshooting； stabbing； cursing； clashing； fighting men！ Greed； power； oppression； fanaticism； love； hate； revenge； justice； freedomfor these； men killed one another。
She lay there under the cedars； gazing up through the delicate lacelike foliage at the blue sky； and she thought and wondered and did not care。
More rattling shots disturbed the noonday quiet。 She heard a sliding of weathered rock； a hoarse shout of warning； a yell of alarm； again the clear； sharp crack of the rifle； and another cry that w
