Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 November 1894 — A STUDY IN SCARLET. [ARTICLE]

A STUDY IN SCARLET.

BY A. CONAN DOYLE.

part r {Being areprint from the reminiscences of John H. Watson, M. D., late of the Army Medica Department.] CHAPTER Vll— Continued.

He was d*»agged back into the room, j land then commenced a terrific conflict. So powerful and so fierce was be, that the four of us were shaken | ■off again and again. He appeared to have the convulsive strength of a man in an epileptic fit. His face hands were terribly mangled by the passage through the glass, but loss of blood had no effect in diminishing his resistance. It was not until Lestrade succeeded in getting bis hand inside his neckcloth and half strangling him that we made him realize that his struggles were ■of no avail, and even then we felt *0 security until we had pinioned his feet as weil as his hands. That done, we ro6e to our feet, breathless and panting. “We-have his cab," said Sherlock Holmes— “It will serve to take him to Scotland Yard. And now, gentlemen,” he continued with a pleasant, “we have reached the end of our little mystery. You are very welcome to put any questions that you like to me now, and there is no danger that I will refuse to answer them.” End of Part I. PART ll— The Country of tiie Saints. _1 CHAPTER!. ON THE GREAT ALKAtI PLAIN. In the central portion of the great Borth American Continent there lies an arid and repulsive desert, which for many a long year served as a barrier asainst the advance of civilization. From the Sierra Nevada to Nebraska, and from the Yellowstone River in the north to the Colorado upon the south, is a region of desolation and silence. Nor is Nature always in one mood throughout this Ifrim district. It comprises snowcapped and lofty mountains, and dark and gloomy valleys. There are swift-flowing rivers which dash through jagged canons; and there are enormous plains, which in winter are white with snow, and in summer are gray with the saline alkali dust They all preserve, however, the common characteristics of barrenness, inhospitality and misery. There are no inhabitants of this land of despair. A band oi Pawnees or of Blackfeet may occasionally traverse it in order to reach other hunting-grounds, but the hardiest of the braves are glad to lose sight of those awsome plains, and to find themselves once more upon their prairies. Tthe coyote skulks among the scrub, the buzzard flaps heavily through the air, and the clumsy grizzly bear lumbers thorugh the park ravines, and picks up suchsustenance as it can among the rocks. These are the sole dwellers in the wilderness. In the whole world there can be ®o more dreary view than that from the northern slope of the Sierra Blanco. As far as the eye can reach stretches the great flat plain-land, all dusted over with patches of alkali, and intersected by clumps of the dwarfish chaparral bushes. On the extreme verge of the horizon lie a long chain of mountain peaks, with the rugged summits flecked with snow. In this great stretch of country there is no sign of life, nor of anything appertaining to life. There is no bird in the steel-blue heaven, no movement upon the'dull, gray earth—above all, there is absolute silence. Listen, as any one may, there is no shadow of a sound In ail that mighty wilderness; nothing but silence, complete and heartsubduing silence. appertaining to life upon the broad plain. That is hardly true. Look-j ing down upon the Sierra Blanco, I one sees a pathway traced out acnpss-tbe desert, which winds *way and is lost in the extreme distance. It is rutted with wheels and trodden down by the feet of many ! ad venturers. Here and there are scat tered white objects which glisten in the sun, and stand out against the dull deposit of alkali. Approach and examine them! They are bones; some large and coarse, others smaller and more delicate, j The former had belonged to oxen. *nd the latter tomeu. For fifteen hundred miles one may trace this ghastly caravan route by these scattered remains of those who had fallen by the wayside. Looking down on this very scene, there stood upon the 4th of May, 1847, a Solitary traveler. His appearance was such that he might liave beep the very genius or demon of the region. An observer would have found it difficult to say whether he was nearer to forty or to sixty. His face was lean and haggard, and die brown, parohment-like skin was drawn tightly over the projecting bones; his long, brown hair and beard were all flepked and dashed nrith white; his ey&s were sunken in ibis head, and burned with an unnatural! uster, while the hand which grasped his rifle was hardly more fleshy than that of a skeleton. As be stood, he leaned upon his weapon] for support, and yet his tall figuro and the framework of his bones suggested a wiry and vigorous constitution. His gaunt face, however. and his clothes, which hung sc

baggily over his shriveled limbs, proclaimed what it was that gave him that senile and decrepit appearance. The man was dying—dying from hunger and from thirst. He had toiled painfully down the ravine, and on to this little elevation, in the vain hope of seeing some signs of water. Now the great salt plain stretched before his eyes, and the distant belt of savage mountains, without a sign anywhere of plant or tree, which might indicate the presence of moisture. In all that broad landscape there was no gleam of hope. North and east and west he looked with wild, questioning eyes, and then he realized that his wanderings had come to an end, and that there, on that barren crag, he was about to die. ■ “Why not here, as well as in a feather bed, twenty years hence,” he muttered, as he seated himself in the shelter of a bowlder. Before sitting down, he had deposited upon the ground his useless rifle, and also a large bundle tied up in a gray shawl, which he had carried slung over his right shoulder. It appeared to be somewhat too heavy for his strength, for, in lowering it, it came down to the ground with some little violence. Istantly there broke fro a. the gray parcel a little moaning cry, a nd from it there protruded a small, scared face, with very bright brown eyes, and two little speckled dimpled fists. “You’ve hurt me!” said a childish voice, reproachfully. “Have I, though?” the man answered penitehtly,' “I didn’t go for to do it.” As he spoke, he unwrapped the gray shawl and extricated a pretty little girl of about five years of age, whose dainty shoes and smart pink' frock, with its little linen apron, all bespoke a mother’s care. The child was pale and wan, but her healthy arms and legs showed that she had suffered less than her companion. “llow is it now?” he answered, anxiously, for she was still rubbing the towsy golden curls which covered the back of her head. “Kiss it and make it well,” she said, with perfect gravity, shoving the injured part up to him: “That’s what moth.**: used to do. Where’s mother?” “Mother’s gone. I guess you’ll see her before long.” “Gone, eh!” said the little girl. ’‘Funny she didn’t say good-by; she ’meet alway did if she was just, goin’ over to auntie’s for tea, and now she’s been away for three days, Say, it’s awful dry. ain’t it? Aain’t there no water nor nothing to eat?” “No: there ain’t nothing dearie. You'll just need to be patient awhile and then you’ll be all right. Put your head up agin me, like Chat, and then you’ll feel better. It ain’t easy to talk when your lips is like leather, but I guess I’d best let you know how the cards lie. What’s that you’ve got?” “Pretty things! fine things!” cried the little girl, enthusiastically, holding up two glittering fragments of mica- When we goes back home I’ll give them to brother Bob.” “You’ll see prettier things than them Soon,” said the man, confidently, “You just wait a bit. I was going to tell you, though—remember when we left the river?” “Oh, ves.” “Well> we reckoned we’d strike another river soon, d’ye see. But there was somethin’ wrong, compasses, or map, or somethin,’ didn’t turn up. Water ran out. Just except a little drop for the likes of you and — and-” “And you couldn't wash yourself,” interrupted his companion, gravely, staring up at his grimy visage. “No, nor drink. And Bender, he was the first to go, and then Indian Pete, and then Mrs.'McGregor, and then Johnny Hones, and then, dearie, your mother.” “Then mother’s a deader too,” cried the little girl, dropping her face in her pinafore and sobbing bitterly, “Yes; they all went except you and me. Then I thought there was some chance of water in this direction, so I heaved you over mv shoulder and we have tramped it together. Jt don’t seem as though we have improved matters. There’s a mighty small chance for us now.” “Do you mean that we are going to die, too?” asked the child, checking be sobs and raising her 'tearstained face. “I guess that’s about the size of it." “Why didn’t you say so before?” she said, laughing gleefully. “You gave me such a fright. Why, of course, nowas long as we die, we’ll be with mother again.” “Yes, you will, dearie.” “And you, too. I’ll tell her awful good you ye been. I’ll bet she meets us at the door of heaven with a big pitcher Of water, and a lot of buckwheat cakes, hot and tossed on both sides, like Bob and me was fond of. How long will it be first?” “I don’t know —not very long.” The man’s eyes were fixed upon the northern horizon. In the blue vault of the heavens therfe appeared three little specks which increased in size every moment, so rapidly did they approach. They speedily re r-• , • »

I - . ■ solved themselves into three large brown birds, which circled over the heads of the two wanderers and then settled upon some rocks which owr. looked them. They were buzzards, the vultures of the West, whose coming is the forerunner of death. “Cocks and hens,” cried the little girl, gleefully, pointing at their illomened forms and clapping her hands to make them rise. “Say, did God make this country?” “In course He did,” said her companion, rather startled by this unexpected question. “He made the country down in Illinois, and He made the Missouri,” the little girl continued. “I-.-guess somebody else made the country in these parts. ' It’s not nearly so well dones They forgot the water and the trees.” — “What would ye think of offering up prayer?” the man asked, diffidently. “It ain’t night yet,” sheanswered. “It don’t matter. It ain’t quite regular, but He won’t mind that, you bet. You say over them ones that you used to say every night in the wagon when we was on the plains.” “Why don’t you say some yourself?” the child asked, with wondering eyes. T~ “I disremember them,” he answered. “1 liain’t said none since I was half the height o’ that gun. I guess it’s never too late. You say them out and I’ll stand by and come in on the choruses.” “Then you’ll need to kneel down, and me too,” she said, laying the shawl out for that purpose. “And you’ve got to put your hands up like this. It makes you feel kind of good.” It was a strange sight, had there been anything but the buzzards to see it. Side by side on the narrow shawl knelt the two wanderers, the little, prattling child and the reckless, hardened adventurer. Her chubby face and his haggard, angular visage were both turned up to the cloudless heaven in heartfelt entreaty to that dread Being with whom they were face to face, while the two voices—the one thin and clear, the other deep and harsh - uuited in the entreaty for mercy and forgiveness. The prayer finished, they resumed their seat ih the shade of the bowlder until the child fell asleep, nestling upon the broad breast of her protector. He watched over her slumber for some time, but nature proved to be too strong for him. For three days and nights he had allowed himself neither rest nor repose. Slowly the eyelids drooped over the tired eyes, and the head sank lower and lower upon the breast, until the man’s grizzled beard was mixed with the golden tresses of his companion, and both slept the same deep and dreamless slumber. Had the wanderer remained awake another half-hour a strange sight would have met his eyes. Far away on the extreme verge of the alkali plain there rose up a little spray of dust, very slight at first, and hardly to be distinguished from the mists of the distance, but gradually growing higher and broader until it formed a solid, well defined cloud. This cloud continued to increase in size until it became evident that it could ; only be raised by a great multitude : of moving creatures. In more fertile spots the observer would have come to the conclusion that one of those great herds of bisons which graze upon the prairie land was approaching. This was obviously impossible in these arid wilds. As the whirl of dust drew nearer to the solitary bluff upon which the two castaways were reposing, the canvascovered wagons and the armed horsemen began to show up through the haze, and apparition revealed itself as being a great caravan upon its i journey for the West. But what a caravan! When the head of it had reached the base o,f the mountains, the rear was not yet visible on the horizon. Right across the enormous plain stretched the straggling array, wagons and carts, men on horseback, and men on foot. Innumerable women who staggered along under burdens, and children who toddled beside the wagons or peeped out from under the white coverings. This was evidently no ordinary party of immigrants, but rather some nomad people who had been compelled from stress of circumstances to seek themselves a new country. There rose through the clear air a confused clattering aud rumbling from this great mass of J humanity, with the creaking of wheels and the neighing of horses. Loud as it was, it was not sufficient to rouse the two tired wayfarers above them. At the head of the column there rose a score ojr more of grave, ironfaced men clad in somber homespun garments and armed with rifles. On reaching the base of the bluff they halted and held a short council among themselves. “The wells are to the right, my brothers,” said one, a hard-lipped, clean-shaven man with grizzly hair. “To the right of the Sierra Blanco —so we shall reach the Rio Grande,” said another. “Fear not for water,” criqd a third. “He who could draw it from the rocks will not abandon His own chosen people.” “Amen! Amen!” responded the whole party. They were about to resume their journey when one of the youngest and keenest-eyed uttered an exclamation and pointed up jit the rug-1 ged crag above them. From its summit there fluttered a little wisp of pink showing up hard against’tho gray rocks behind. At the sight there was a general reining up Of horses and unalinging of guns

while fresh horsemen came galloping up to reinforce the vanguard. The word “Redskins" was on every lip. —— be any number-of-Injuns here,” said the elderly man who appeared to be in command. “We have passed the Pawnees, and there are no other tribes until we cross the great mountains.” “Shall I go forward and see, Brother Stangerson?” asked one ol the band. “And I,” “And I,” cried a dozen voices. “Leave your horses below and we will await you here,” the elder answered. In a moment the young fellows had mounted, fastened their horses, and were ascending the precipitous slope which led up to the object which had excited tneir curiosity. They advanced rapidly and noiselessly, with the confidence and dexterity of practiced scouts. The watchers from the plain below could see them flit from rock to rock until their figures stood out against the sky-line. The vonng man who had first given the alarm was leading them. Suddenly his followers saw him throw up his hands, as though overcome with astonishment, and on joining him they were affected in the same wav by the night which met their eves. On the little plateau which crowned the barren hill there stood a single giant bowlder, and against this bowlder there lay a tall man, long-bearded and hardfeatured, but of an excessive thinness. His placid face and regular breathing showed that he was fast asleep. Beside him lay a little child, with her round white arms encircling his brown, sinewy neck, and her golden-haired head resting upon the breast of his velveteen tunic. Hec. rosy lips were parted, showing the regular |ine of snow white teeth within, and a playful smile played over her infantile features Her plump little white legs, terminating in white socks and neat shoes with shining buckles, offered a strange contrast to the long, shriveled members of.her companion. On the ledge of rock above this strange couple there stood three solemn buzzards, who, at the sight of the newcomers, uttered raucous screams of disappointment and flapped sullenly away. The cries of the foul birds awoke the two sleepers; who stared about them in bewilderment. The man staggered to his feet and looked dowu upon the plain which had been so desolate when sleep had overtaken him, and which was now traversed by this enormous body of men and beasts. His face assumed an expression of incredulity as he gazed, and he passed his bony hand over his eyes. . “This is what they call delirium, I guess,” he muttered. The child stood beside him, skirt of his coat, and said nothing, but looked all round her with the wondering, questioning gaze of childhood. The rescuing party were speedily able to convince the two castaways that their appearance was -no delusion. One of them seized the little girl, and hoisted her upon his shoulder, while two others supported her gaunt companion, and assisted him toward the wagon. (to be continued.’)