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The Heritage of the Desert-Part20_Zane Gray(1872-1939)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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they had never been, for as Mescal said good-night she would give him one



look, swift as a flash, and in it were womanliness and purity, and some-

thing beyond his comprehension. Her Indian serenity and mysticism veiled



yet suggested some secret, some power by which she might yet escape the

iron band of this Mormon rule. Hare could not fathom it. In that



good-night glance was a meaning for him alone, if meaning ever shone in

woman's eyes, and it said: "I will be true to you and to myself!"



Once the idea struck him that as soon as spring returned it would be an

easy matter, and probably wise, for him to leave the oasis and go up into



Utah, far from the desert-canyon country. But the thought refused to

stay before his consciousness a moment. New life had flushed his veins



here. He loved the dreamy, sleepy oasis with its mellowsunshine always

at rest on the glistening walls; he loved the cedar-scented plateau where



hope had dawned, and the wind-swept sand-strips, where hard out-of-door

life and work had renewed his wasting youth; he loved the canyon winding



away toward Coconina, opening into wide abyss; and always, more than all,

he loved the Painted Desert, with its ever-changing pictures, printed in



sweeping dust and bare peaks and purple haze. He loved the beauty of

these places, and the wildness in them had an affinity with something



strange and untamed in him. He would never leave them. When his blood

had cooled, when this tumultuous thrill and swell had worn themselves



out, happiness would come again.

Early in the winter Snap Naab had forced his wife to visit his father's



house with him; and she had remained in the room, white-faced,

passionately jealous, while he wooed Mescal. Then had come a scene.



Hare had not been present, but he knew its results. Snap had been

furious, his father grave, Mescal tearful and ashamed. The wife found



many ways to interrupt her husband's lovemaking. She sent the children

for him; she was taken suddenly ill; she discovered that the corral gate



was open and his cream-colored pinto, dearest to his heart, was running

loose; she even set her cottage on fire.



One Sunday evening just before twilight Hare was sitting on the porch

with August Naab and Dave, when their talk was interrupted by Snap's loud



calling for his wife. At first the sounds came from inside his cabin.

Then he put his head out of a window and yelled. Plainly he was both



impatient and angry. It was nearly time for him to make his Sunday call

upon Mescal.



"Something's wrong," muttered Dave.

"Hester! Hester!" yelled Snap.



Mother Ruth came out and said that Hester was not there.

"Where is she?" Snap banged on the window-sill with his fists. "Find



her, somebody--Hester!"

"Son, this is the Sabbath," called Father Naab, gravely. "Lower your



voice. Now what's the matter?"

"Matter!" bawled Snap, giving way to rage. "When I was asleep Hester



stole all my clothes. She's hid them--she's run off--there's not a

d--n thing for me to put on! I'll--"



The roar of laughter from August and Dave drowned the rest of the speech.

Hare managed to stifle his own mirth. Snap pulled in his head and



slammed the window shut.

"Jack," said August, "even among Mormons the course of true love never



runs smooth."

Hare finally forgot his bitter humor in pity for the wife. Snap came to



care not at all for her messages and tricks, and he let nothing interfere

with his evening beside Mescal. It was plain that he had gone far on the



road of love. Whatever he had been in the beginning of the betrothal, he

was now a lover, eager, importunate. His hawk's eyes were softer than



Hare had ever seen them; he was obliging, kind, gay, an altogether

different Snap Naab. He groomed himself often, and wore clean scares,



and left off his bloody spurs. For eight months he had not touched the

bottle. When spring approached he was madly in love with Mescal. And



the marriage was delayed because his wife would not have another woman in

her home.



Once Hare heard Snap remonstrating with his father.

"If she don't come to time soon I'll keep the kids and send her back to



her father."

"Don't be hasty, son. Let her have time," replied August. "Women must



be humored. I'll wager she'll give in before the cottonwood blows, and

that's not long."



It was Hare's habit, as the days grew warmer, to walk a good deal, and

one evening, as twilight shadowed the oasis and grew black under the



towering walls, he strolled out toward the fields. While passing Snap's




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