GWEN'S CANYON
Gwen's hope and bright courage, in spite of all her pain, were wonderful to witness.But all this cheery hope and courage and patience snuffed out as a candle, leaving noisome darkness to settle down in that sick-room from the day of the doctor's consultation.
The verdict was clear and final.The old doctor, who loved Gwen as his own, was inclined to hope against hope, but Fawcett, the clever young doctor from the distant town, was positive in his opinion.
The scene is clear to me now, after many years.We three stood in the outer room; The Duke and her father were with Gwen.So earnest was the discussion that none of us heard the door open just as young Fawcett was saying in incisive tones:
"No! I can see no hope.The child can never walk again."There was a cry behind us.
"What! Never walk again! It's a lie!" There stood the Old Timer, white, fierce, shaking.
"Hush!" said the old doctor, pointing at the open door.He was too late.Even as he spoke, there came from the inner room a wild, unearthly cry as of some dying thing and, as we stood gazing at one another with awe-stricken faces, we heard Gwen's voice as in quick, sharp pain.
"Daddy! daddy! come! What do they say? Tell me, daddy.It is not true! It is not true! Look at me, daddy!"She pulled up her father's haggard face from the bed.
"Oh, daddy, daddy, you know it's true.Never walk again!"She turned with a pitiful cry to The Duke, who stood white and stiff with arms drawn tight across his breast on the other side of the bed.
"Oh, Duke, did you hear them? You told me to be brave, and I tried not to cry when they hurt me.But I can't be brave! Can I, Duke?
Oh, Duke! Never to ride again!"
She stretched out her hands to him.But The Duke, leaning over her and holding her hands fast in his, could only say brokenly over and over: "Don't, Gwen! Don't, Gwen dear!"But the pitiful, pleading voice went on.
"Oh, Duke! Must I always lie here? Must, I? Why must I?""God knows," answered The Duke bitterly, under his breath, "Idon't!"
She caught at the word.
"Does He?" she cried, eagerly.Then she paused suddenly, turned to me and said: "Do you remember he said some day I could not do as Iliked?"
I was puzzled.
"The Pilot," she cried, impatiently, "don't you remember? And Isaid I should do as I liked till I died."I nodded my head and said: "But you know you didn't mean it.""But I did, and I do," she cried, with passionate vehemence, "and Iwill do as I like! I will not lie here! I will ride! I will! Iwill! I will!" and she struggled up, clenched her fists, and sank back faint and weak.It was not a pleasant sight, but gruesome.
Her rage against that Unseen Omnipotence was so defiant and so helpless.
Those were dreadful weeks to Gwen and to all about her.The constant pain could not break her proud spirit; she shed no tears;but she fretted and chafed and grew more imperiously exacting every day.Ponka and Joe she drove like a slave master, and even her father, when he could not understand her wishes, she impatiently banished from her room.Only The Duke could please or bring her any cheer, and even The Duke began to feel that the day was not far off when he, too, would fail, and the thought made him despair.
Her pain was hard to bear, but harder than the pain was her longing for the open air and the free, flower-strewn, breeze-swept prairie.
But most pitiful of all were the days when, in her utter weariness and uncontrollable unrest, she would pray to be taken down into the canyon.
"Oh, it is so cool and shady," she would plead, "and the flowers up in the rocks and the vines and things are all so lovely.I am always better there.I know I should be better," till The Duke would be distracted and would come to me and wonder what the end would be.
One day, when the strain had been more terrible than usual, The Duke rode down to me and said:
"Look here, this thing can't go on.Where is The Pilot gone? Why doesn't he stay where he belongs? I wish to Heaven he would get through with his absurd rambling.""He's gone where he was sent," I replied shortly."You don't set much store by him when he does come round.He is gone on an exploring trip through the Dog Lake country.He'll be back by the end of next week.""I say, bring him up, for Heaven's sake," said The Duke, "he may be of some use, and anyway it will be a new face for her, poor child."Then he added, rather penitently: "I fear this thing is getting on to my nerves.She almost drove me out to-day.Don't lay it up against me, old chap."It was a new thing to hear The Duke confess his need of any man, much less penitence for a fault.I felt my eyes growing dim, but Isaid, roughly:
"You be hanged! I'll bring The Pilot up when he comes."It was wonderful how we had all come to confide in The Pilot during his year of missionary work among us.Somehow the cowboy's name of "Sky Pilot" seemed to express better than anything else the place he held with us.Certain it is, that when, in their dark hours, any of the fellows felt in need of help to strike the "upward trail," they went to The Pilot; and so the name first given in chaff came to be the name that expressed most truly the deep and tender feeling these rough, big-hearted men cherished for him.
When The Pilot came home I carefully prepared him for his trial, telling all that Gwen had suffered and striving to make him feel how desperate was her case when even The Duke had to confess himself beaten.He did not seem sufficiently impressed.Then Ipictured for him all her fierce wilfulness and her fretful humors, her impatience with those who loved her and were wearing out their souls and bodies for her."In short," I concluded, "she doesn't care a rush for anything in heaven or earth, and will yield to neither man nor God."The Pilot's eyes had been kindling as I talked, but he only answered, quietly:
"What could you expect?"
