The Vision of Elijah Berl

"Oh we've got plenty of water here and we're going to have more."

"Yes, I guess you have, such as 'tis. Good enough for old-fashioned sailin' craft. But when folks ain't satisfied with goin' as fast as God's wind blows 'em, an' they put in engines an' boilers, the dum water's liable to eat holes in their boilers an' blow 'em up." He looked around the room curiously. "There's a power o' steam escapin' around here. Where's 'Lige? Look's as if 'Lige had got a hole eat in his boilers, an' me an' Ralph's come in to see if we can help patch 'em up."

Helen noted the keen, old eyes and the humorous wrinkles that for all their humor were yet hard.

"He hasn't been in this morning; I expect him every moment."

Uncle Sid turned to Winston.

"It's your watch, Ralph. You take the wheel."

Winston felt reassured to a certain extent, by Helen's perfectly natural manner. There were the same frank eyes, the same friendly smile that he knew so well. Did she know all that they wished to know or was she as ignorant as they of all but public gossip? He was going to find out.

"I suppose you know, Helen," he began soberly, "that there are some pretty ugly rumors about Elijah flying around Ysleta?"

"Yes, I do know." Helen's face grew hard.

"How much truth is there in them?"

Helen met Winston's piercing look squarely.

"I don't know any more than you know." There was no apparent hesitation in her manner, but her thoughts were busy anticipating what was to come.

Ralph made an impatient gesture.

"We can talk till doomsday, Helen, and you can answer and tell us nothing, if you choose. You know we are not gossips, and you know that we are Elijah's friends."

"Why didn't you say that to start with?" Helen flashed back. "You began asking me questions and I answered your questions truthfully."

Uncle Sid noted the strained situation.

"She's laid you broadside on there, Ralph; that gun is out o' action. You'll have to limber up another battery."

Winston and Helen both turned to Uncle Sid; then, smiling, their eyes met and the threatened storm passed by.

"Just what is it, Ralph?"

"We want to know the whole business, Helen, so far as you know."

Uncle Sid again broke in.

"When a bell rattles, we want to know whether its cracked, or whether there's just something on it that can be got off."

"I don't think Elijah's cracked, Uncle Sid." She grew very sober as she turned once more to Winston.

"The rumor that Mellin holds Elijah's note for one hundred thousand dollars, that the note is secured by a mortgage on the Palm Wells tract, is true. These facts are recorded. I have seen the records. Further than that, I know nothing."

"Ur-r-rh!" grunted Uncle Sid, whose thoughts suddenly reverted to Eunice MacGregor. "I guess I know the tree to smoke that coon out of."

Helen shot an intelligent glance at Uncle Sid, her lips parted, then she thought better of her impulse and remained silent.

Winston again turned to Helen.

"I shall have to ask you another direct question, Helen. Did the company get their deposit from the Pacific?"

Helen looked squarely at Winston.

"I don't know."

"Perhaps you don't know, Helen, but you are in a better position to guess than we are. There's no use playing with words. That Palm Wells business called for ready money. I know as well as you do that Elijah had no such amount. The question is, where did he get it?"

"If I knew absolutely, I would tell you. I will tell you what I do know, but I shall have to ask you to keep it to yourselves for a little." Then she told of Elijah's discovery of the frostless belt; how, half in jest, half in earnest, she had told him that she might avail herself of her knowledge; of Elijah's alarm; of their agreement to acquire the tract together.

"We have," she concluded, "got the Pico ranch in our hands. My five thousand is in it. There was fifty-five thousand paid down. Elijah did not tell me where he got the money, but I supposed at the time that he had pledged a part of his holdings in the Las Cruces to raise it."

Uncle Sid looked up. There was sternness but yet kindness in the keen eyes that held Helen's.

"Don't you think you ought to know, Helen?"

Helen's face grew suddenly drawn and white.

"I have told you all that I ought to tell you, perhaps more than was right. I went into this business of my own free will and there have come complications that I did not foresee, but I am not justified in trying to free myself at the expense of another. I am telling you the truth so far as I know it. It isn't for me to make inferences."

The interview, so far as its object was concerned, was ended. Uncle Sid rose stiffly and took the girl's hand in his own.

"I'm afraid that you've made mistakes, lassie, but so have the rest of us. You've got stuff in you worth savin', an' we're goin' to stand by you."

Winston also rose. As Helen placed her hand in his, he said:

"Uncle Sid has spoken for me too, Helen." He held her hand for a moment only, but there was, in the clasp of it, that which went straight to her heart. She did not dare to look in his eyes. She had told him the truth as she knew it, but not as she suspected it. How much more could she have known if she would; how much more ought she to have known? She had not until now, seen clearly where her course was bound to lead if followed to the end. Had she wilfully declined to see? She was going over her past, analyzing it clearly, logically, unsparing of herself. Even yet she could not understand the subtle influence with which Elijah had surrounded her, but at last her eyes were open to its danger. She had given admiration, sympathy, her best to help him, her warm but disquieting friendship. Here she stopped abruptly, her eyes wide open, her face scarlet, her heart throbbing in an agony of pain and shame. The parting pressure of Ralph's hand came to her, the eager look of sympathy which she had felt but not seen. She longed to hear his voice again, to feel the touch of his hand in her own. Slowly she raised her head. Her face was pale and set. Her sins were upon her; the sins of innocence, but the burden was none the lighter for that; yet she would bear it alone and in silence.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was late in the afternoon of the same day when Elijah came to the office. There was the old rush and swing in his motions, but there was also a tense, restless light in his eyes that told of a mind not at peace with itself; of a mind still determined, but lacking the old time confidence. He returned Helen's greeting effusively, but his manner was forced, not spontaneous. He went to his desk and began nervously rummaging the accumulated papers. Frequently he called Helen to him to help straighten some simple matter.

She bore his nervous petulance with patience, for she felt that she knew the cause of his agitation. In sheer desperation, Elijah was bent upon making trouble, knowing that in every detail he was wrong, knowing that even the cause of his agitation was of his own creation. The gossips of Ysleta told him this; told him in words that he could not twist into a defense of himself, and this increased his nervous petulance. He was wrong, terribly wrong, and he knew it, knew that he was trying to make wrong, right. Point after point he brought up with Helen, only to have each explained in a way that he was compelled to admit was without fault.

Helen was patient. She thought that she knew. Her own bitter suffering made her understand. Her heart went out in great throbs of sympathy toward the sorely tried man, who had done wrong and was repenting, even as she had done wrong and was now bent upon righting it.

At last, however, after an unusually severe and wholly unwarranted outburst, she threw down the paper which she held. Patience had ceased to be a virtue. It was a menace, not only to herself, but to the man toward whom it was exercised.

"There's no use going on in this way any longer, Elijah! There's no trouble where you are bent on finding it. It's in the beginning. Let's go back and straighten that out, then we can get somewhere."

"Well, what is it!" There was an exasperating twist in Elijah's words.

Helen passed it by.

"I've done wrong and I know it. I wanted to get ahead, and getting ahead meant money. I couldn't get into the Las Cruces – "