The Vision of Elijah Berl

There was evidently an unwonted excitement of which Helen and Uncle Sid were an important part. Then the cattle came to a conclusion and, with lowered heads and tails sticking upright, they charged straight for Uncle Sid and Helen.

The horsemen, meanwhile had crossed the barranca, and the next instant, horses and riders with the yapping fur, had turned the vigorously charging cattle to an equally vigorous retreat.

Winston sprang from his horse in front of Uncle Sid. His face was white with anger.

"Where did you come from? – " he began.

"From God's country, young man, and we got lost." Uncle Sid was unabashed. Winston's face broke into a smile; then he caught sight of Helen.

"You ought to know better than this, Helen."

"Better than what, young man?"

"Better than to go walking around here. You see these cattle are more than half wild. They don't often see a footman, and when they have calves, they are dangerous. If you had been mounted, you could have ridden through the bunch and they wouldn't have noticed you."

"Well; we shall have to walk back, apparently." Helen's smile was not wholly spontaneous.

"To God's country? It's a long way." Ralph was smiling at Helen's chagrin.

Helen laughed.

"Perhaps you could show us the way?"

"You would better go down to Pedro's ranch and wait. Our supply wagons will be along shortly, and they will take you to town."

"Young man," Uncle Sid broke in, "you seem to know this country. Is that strip o' damp sand down there, the Christopher Sawyer?"

"The what?" For a moment, Ralph's face was blank astonishment, then he burst into a hearty laugh.

"Oh, the Sangre de Christo! Yes."

"They both mean the same thing. Whew! Helen, I've got another idea about this country. It's a great country for raisin' ideas, if it ain't good for anything else. It's prolific! It would make a stone man think." He paused, fanning himself vigorously. "There ain't any use talkin'; it's great! Soaks thinks full o' fog-water nights, an' then the sun comes out mornin's and boils 'em. If it wasn't for fogs 'twould roast 'em. I don't wonder 'Lige Berl gets a broad view o' Providence. You can get all sorts o' vittles in this country, roasted, boiled and dried. I bet those critters are carryin' around dried beef on their bones right now."

Ralph's look of amusement gave way to one of inquiry.

"Are you a friend of Elijah Berl?" he asked. "Helen, why don't you introduce us?"

But Uncle Sid again interrupted.

"Worse than that, young man, worse than that. It's most as bad as blood relations. Me and 'Lige Berl's folks have been brought up in the same neighborhood back in New England for ages."

Ralph started to reply to Uncle Sid, but a glance at Helen changed his mind.

"Let's get down to Pedro's ranch, in the shade. The wagons won't be along for an hour yet." He tried to walk by Helen's side, but she waited for Uncle Sid.

The last remnant of the fog had departed; the sun was blazing fiercely. Toward Ysleta, the air was already shimmering over the sand. By the ditches and among the vines, was the music of many birds and the cheerful notes of Bob White.

Half stifled with the choking dust, they scuffled and slid down the steep trail that led to Pedro's adobe.

Pedro was following, his stolid face stifling his emotions. At the gate, the vaquero and Winston, drawing their reins over their ponies' heads, dropped them on the ground. Pedro stepped forward, swept his hat from his head and held the gate open for his guests to pass through. Following them, he pointed to an inviting hammock, swung between two fruit trees. Again he swept his hat from his head.

"Perhaps the señorita will honor my poor hammock by reposing in it."

Helen stepped to the hammock. Another graceful bow from Pedro.

"At your feet, señorita."

Uncle Sid, uninvited, explored the garden. Pedro was marching to the adobe. To Helen it seemed as if she had never before experienced such a delicious sensation as the resting of her tired body in the perfectly adjusted hammock. Ralph was watching her.

"Pedro has departed, may I take his place?" Assuming an affirmative answer, he stretched himself at her feet.

"Helen, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously.

"Nothing, that I know of." She replied evasively.

"Is it the office?" persisted Winston.

"Why can't you believe me?" There was a trace of annoyance in her manner.

"Because when your eyes tell me one thing and your lips another, I'm going to take my choice."

"I really don't like to ask you to attend to your own business, Ralph." There was a flash of the old humor in her voice.

"You oughtn't to say that to me, Helen, for the sake of old times – if for nothing more," he added deliberately.

Helen understood the conditional "if", as well as the expression of his eyes. A suggestion of red tinged the clear olive of her cheeks.

"This is no place for confidences, even if I had any to exchange!"

"Later on then." Ralph's lips were decided. "Who is your friend?" he added.

"Uncle Sid? He is an old friend of Elijah's. He and his sister are stopping at the Vista."

There sounded the leisurely chut-chut of the lumbering wagons. Ralph rose to his feet.

"There come the wagons."

At the wagon, Helen insisted upon riding in the driver's seat. Uncle Sid was stowed in the rear. Ralph flashed a look toward Helen.

"My horse won't lead," he declared. "You ride him in, Jim, and I'll drive."

If Ralph had counted upon a quiet talk with Helen during the ride to Ysleta, he was certainly disappointed. Uncle Sid's position in the background was the only thing in the rear which he accepted. In the matter of conversation, he was well to the front.

"What's 'Lige Berl doin' in this country anyway?" he questioned Ralph.

"'Lige?" repeated Ralph. "Oh, he dreamed a dream; was five years at it. He dreamed of oranges, big fellows without seeds; of mountains with too much water and of deserts without enough. Then he dreamed of bunching the three together for their mutual benefit. He convinced some Eastern capital that it was no dream after all. Now we are trying to make good."

Uncle Sid grunted.