Voice of the Intangible, XXVII

Voice of the Intangible

BY ALBERT R. LYMAN

Chapter XXVII—Adios

From the summit of Castle Hill, Ben discovered a lone horse-

man coming down the wash. It was one o'clock in the afternoon

and everything blistering hot, especially to a head covered by a

red handkerchief instead of a hat, and for the sake of a little

shade and to forestall any possible danger, young Rojer tied Deut

in the shade of a cedar, and with his saddle-gun sprawled in the

shade of a tree near by.

From where he lay, chin in hands and elbows ploughing into

the cedar leaves, he could view the approach to the hill from both

sides for be it known that Something had whispered him to take

;

no sleep or rest until he felt full permission to do so. He enjoyed

the shade ten minutes before he recognized the horse as the hick-

ory-hearted buckskin, and made bold to take the rider for Juan,

and the dog following, for Mike.

The guess was a good one. Half way down the hill he met

the smiling "Chili con carne" and the glass-eyed wag-tail, both

tickled to death to see him, as if he had come up from the grave.

While the old dog frisked about Deut's feet, and barked, and

tried to climb up into the saddle, —

that brown Mexican face and

those black Castillian eyes, beamed with a satisfaction so genu-

ine that Ben had to wink hard to keep back the tears. He knew

the Mexican way is to embrace, and he knew Juan felt the im-

pulse strongly at that moment, but the embrace was a sacred

thing; he had shared it with one man only, so he thrust out his

hand instead. Rido grasped it firmly, and why not? though

these had been parted but thirty hours. Had not young Rojer

passed a mighty climax in that time, and met the dread spectre of

years? He had not only met it, but defeated it according to the

most honorable standards of battle.

Of course, Juan had small idea of the victory, yet it came up

to his loftiest notion of triumph ; Ben was alive, hatless and

for

coatless to be sure, but still unhurt. Whether any man lay rotting

back over the hill, was a matter of minor import, yet the more

that rotted, the merrier. "When I see you didn't got to camp

last night," he began, "I didn't sleep a dem wing; an' when it got

mornin' I jus' told 'em I was comin,' an' piled on de ole yellar

an' hit de trail dis way."

VOICE OF THE INTANGIBLE 843

"But what the world could you have done?"

"I was follow your track, an' if dey have kill you, I was kill

every one of de whole tribe," and in his energy he got

most of his cuss-words wrong-side-to or bottom-side-up, in such a

way as to give Ben's smiling muscles a slow contraction.

"I can't swear United States perty good," he apologized, "but

I don't got no flies on my Mexican cussing."

When young Rojer had swung down and patted the old pup,

he left him to bring up the rear, while he and Juan made good

time through Castle Gulch and over Clay Hill.

West & Co. had made camp at Dripping Spring when the

two rode up and their supper-time dovetailed nicely into Ben's

plans.

"Well, I see they didn't git you," ventured the man from

Snicksville, "did you git any of them?"

"I left 'em a-foot," answered Ben getting up from supper,

"but Juan can tell you about it I'm going to Peavine yet to-

;

night."

Juan, of course, had heard the whole story, that is, all he

could understand of it, knowing nothing of the Intangible.

The parting with West & Co., was perfunctory, but when

young Rojer came to Juan, he felt a real pang of regret, and hung

on to the brown hand thoughtfully, "You've always been honest

and willing, and—" Ben hesitated under the curious stare of

West's men. "here's old Jings, take 'im to be your horse, and

when you ride 'im, remember that I liked your work and gave

Jings to prove it."

Rido objected, and the moist eyes betrayed the return of that

embracing impulse. However, he finally consented on condition

that Ben would wear his own stiff sombrero, in place of the knot-

ted handkerchief.

With the pack on Flossy, himself on Snip, Deut trotting

free, and Mike joyfully bringing up the rear, Ben wore the som-

brero and started away alone into the night, among the dear old

cedars of the Ridge. For all that he was sleepy, and weary and

drilled down like an old horse, he endured the motion of a lively

trot till one or two o'clock in the morning.

He drew reign in the quakingasp grove of Peavine Spring.

The pack and saddles came off without delay, three pairs of hob-

bles were pressed into service, a blanket bed made into shape.

Then in the same spot where Fred Rojer took such pains to

teach his son of the inspiration which comes to the spirit of man,

that same little son, now grown tall, bowed in prayer by his

pillow, and lowered his head to a rest which he knew would not

be disturbed by man or beast.

Morning on the Elk mountain is always a glorious thing, but

Ben thought it never so lovely as when its gentle whispers stirred

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him to consciousness that time in June. It cooed to him in its

—

motherly way, and told him he was free, more free than he had

ever been, and ready to enter upon greater labors than he had

known hitherto.

He felt no need of hurry, he could leave the mountain that

day or the next as he chose and while he went over the situa-

;

tion, considering the complete and glorious nature of his vic-

tory, he thought it fitting and appropriate that the day be given

over to communion with the Intangible, as a sort of thanksgiv-

ing. There were nooks on the mountain from which a voice had

called when he had no time to go now he would visit them, and

;

hear all they had to say.

When he had saddled Flossy and started off with Mike at her

heels, he cared little which direction she took, or how slowly she

moved. "My time is mine to spend as I please," he mused, "I

shall 'loose myself in these continuous woods' and hear the voice

of her greenest depths."

The mountain rose around him like a great, leafy garden of

peace, and he felt to hurl himself into the maze of leaves and

flowers, — get lost in them, — become a member of their loving

brotherhood. He considered the blossoms and the sweet smell of

the pines.— he looked thoughtfully at the clear water trickling be-

low tangles of wild rose-bush, and wandered with his eye to the

hillside where the deer may hide in the underbrush. "Oh what a

heaven in which to live !" he whispered, "to rest and sleep in this

air! or be a bird in an aspen tree, or a grouse in a towering

pine! —

But there is something greater, my father knew it

he told me of it, and lo, I have found it the voice of God calling

:

to ears that hark deep in the stillness."

Whether that voice came from the shady groves of oak

and maple, or from the lofty limbs where the scented breezes

—

sighed and the mountain birds called, whether It dwelt in the

swell of the wind, or the silence which followed, it yet found

a way to travel from the wondrous lips which spoke it: "Be

noble; be true; seek for the path of eternal exaltation. 'Build

thee more stately mansions' while the years of earth are Riven

fe

thee."

From the top of The Bear's Ears, he held long communion

with the hazy distance towards Pagahrit,— recalled the thirst

and

weariness of that land, and the precious lessons they had

been

the means of teaching.

Then he rode out to an abrupt break on Kigaly Point

dropped Flossy's reins over a limb, and stretched on his

back in

the shade of a pine. He was a part of the harmony

of the o- re en

mountain.— it dwelt in his eyes and his ears,— it found glad

"place

in his blood and his heart and his mind. He had not looked lon°-

at the needly boughs above, till his weary,

sleep-craving soul

—

VOICE OF THE INTANGIBLE 845

surrendered to the magic of the great lullaby, and he saw and

heard with the strange eyes and ears it provided.

Immediately a robed choir appeared above him in the air.

•

They must have been lower than the top of the pine, and the

wonderful chant of their anthem seemed to bear him away with

its echoes. Then their song of the air became the glad shout of

romping children, and their

flowing robes were trans-

formed to short dresses and

little trousers.

The dream had changed

— old Deut and another brown

pulled the plow across the vir-

gin prairie, and three little

rompers played in the up-

turned soil. Ben himself

walked in the new furrow he ;

heard himself cluck to Deut

and his mate he saw his own

;

hands on the lines and the

plow-handle. Also, he felt for

the three toddling tots, a love

which none but a father may

know.

At the head of the plowed

a wagon, sat a young

strip, by

woman, wearing a spreading

straw hat, and knitting a little

stocking. She was fair, so

far as the distance and the hat

revealed her features, but

while yet some distance from

the wagon the team stopped

to puff, for the ground was "Where the scented breezes

heavy. sighed and the mountain birds

When Ben sat on the called."

plow-beam to rest, the three

toddlers swarmed all over him like so many rolicking puppies.

They climbed astride of his knees and hung around his neck,

they chattered and crowed at perfect ease, and one of them called

him "Papa." For his part he held their soft little hands and

stroked their curly hair with genuine delight.

But old Mike, looking jealously on from the outside, began

to push his way into his master's caresses, by crowding the chil-

dren aside. This breach of etiquette displeased Father Ben, and

he condemned it so loudly and severly that he awakened himself,

and saw his lone dog and horse looking wonderingly down upon

him.

"

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That these three romping tots lived nowhere but in a dream,

was by no means a pleasant thing to discover. Young Rojer was

also half angry with the old dog for waking him before he had

seen the young woman's face, for he might have remembered it

for future acquaintance. But still sleepy, he dozed again and saw

the robed choir and heard them chant something about, "Never

fear ; never doubt."

From Dwarf Spring the next morning, young Rojer gazed

far away beyond the Utah-line, into Colorado, New Mexico and

Arizona, and instinctively the home-made song came to mind:

"In the hazy distance, hidden from view,

A voice is calling, 'I'm waiting for you.'

"Come in, old boys," he said to his three-horse outfit, "she's

over there somewhere," and Mike followed them down the trail on

a brisk lope.

It is now ten years since Ben Rojer met Juan Rido on Castle

Hill. Ben

is in the full vigor of firm-handed manhood. His

three children like nothing better than to go with him to the

field, and there "Ma" likes to put on her wide straw hat and

go, too.

Deut, though not active and swift as he used to be, is still

able to hold his end of the double-tree with a brown mare very

much like himself, and the three toddlers who follow along in the

new, fresh earth, think Deut and Fan are the best team in the

world.

Jud Hiles is a thrifty farmer in the same prosperous neigh-

DISPLAV OF NAVAJO BLANKETS

—

VOICE OF THE INTANGIBLE 847

oorhood. He drives every morning with his little tribe of husky

boys to the field, where they learn to do things 'in a firm- jawed

way, and love their father for the growing toes of the kindly

crow-feet by his big brown eyes. If Jud meets Ben in the road,

it is very likely the two will stop and talk, for they are fellows of

a sturdy friendship pledged years ago by the flickering camp-

fires of Pagahrit.

In the wilds of Arizona, like an outcast, withered and worn,

Montana is still hunting for a den in the earth where no voice

will demand of him : "Where is thy brother !"

Jimmy Baneehlizhen is a big medicine-man among his peo-

ple, still "seeing God in clouds, and hearing him in the winds,"

still harking to the great Intangible which will sometime lead his

benighted brethren to follow a better way. He makes it his busi-

ness to see Ben once a year and his visits have inspired Mrs.

Rojer with a growing respect for her brown brother-in-law.

Things are still "goin' agin" Josh Widder. He believes men

have conspired to deny him their company and their confidence,

and to ambush him with disappointment and rejection at every

turn in the road. And yet, that small germ of manhood, which in

some strange way appealed on the last trip to Ben, is slowly grow-

ing among the tangled weeds of Widder's nature. More than

once since he left Pagahrit, his feelings have been worked upon

by strength of arm, and he has shown vague notions of reforma-

tion. Those notions so far, however, have lost themselves on

the great barrier of dishonest practice and dishonorable ways,

built up by a thick-nosed young-manhood around a decaying old

age.

This part of the story would be wanting for some account of

Juan Rido, but for a letter he recently wrote to Ben, telling how old

Jings had just died, and how, "I don't got no sorey fer de por ol

hors, but I shur lov de man what gives hem to me." He stated

further that he lived on a ranch in New Mexico, — that he had a

small family and a bunch of cattle and though he didn't take the

;

trouble to say so, there is little doubt that in the evening he trots

his little black-eyed toddlers on his knee and sings, "Chili con

came y leche con pan."

The frowning displeasure of the Intangible has long since

driven Soorowits forth, broken-down and nervous, from the fast-

nesses of his exile. He complained that the night cursed him, that

the clouds scowled upon him, the very lizards on the hot rocks

peeped over and laughed at his misfortunes, till he sued for peace.

When his prayer was granted, for it transpired that for some

trifling technicality the legal proceeding against him were not

legal at all, he sought out Ben's new home, and offered his grimy

old hand for a friendly shake. He got it. The "smiling, damned

villian," and the snake-eyed snorter, availed themselves of this

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848 IMPROVEMENT ERA

.same assurance, and went back to their wickiups to live the lives

of righteous Pahutes, who hold it a sin to steal .and be caught.

It would be a pleasure to write the next chapter of this story

to report that the germ of manhood has triumphed in Josh Wid-

der, till he could appreciate and return Ben's good will; to report

further that Jimmy Banechlizhcn had helped to accomplish among

his people, the mighty change for the better, which civilization

so little expects.

It would be a pleasure to relate that Ben had become all

which manhood means to him, and met his father in "the hazy

distance." But years must elapse for that chapter to be acted out

before it may be written at all. Life itself will no more than

suffice to make good Ben's ambition a great God-feeling which

:

comes powerfully upon him from the whole expanse of earth and

sky, both while he labors in the field, and while he plays with his

romping tots at home. When his day's plowing is finished and he

drives towards the new prairie village, —

when he looks towards

the red sky above the sinking sun, that ambition comes forcibly

back to his mind, and he sings

"In the hazy distance, hidden from view,

A voice is calling, 'I'm waiting for you.' "

Then from the responsive west, a wind seems to bring again

the words: "You'll join me there afterwhile, and when I meet

you I want to meet a man, not a thing —

a true man who has

stood every test the Lord prepared."

And a resolution is enkindled for the thousandth time in Ben

Rojer's breast, —a resolution which in words would be: "When

he meets me, my life must have been such that he cannot refrain

from saying, 'Son I'm proud of you.' "

THE END