The Forbidden Trail by Honoré Willsie (best selling autobiographies .txt) 📖

sweetly as a child, and the quiet stars looked down upon the dark slender figure with infinite understanding.

The first rays of the sun roused Roger. He lay for a time blinking and trying to account for the peace and happiness of which he was conscious from the instant he opened his eyes. After a moment, memory spoke and he jumped to his feet and stretched himself. Then he gave a sudden shout.

"Oh, I say, old Peter! You are a good scout! Waiting for me, are you? Hang it! I couldn't blame you if you were just waiting to kick my brains out. Just hold on till I get some breakfast and I'll be with you."

At Roger's shout, Peter left off his desultory browsing, lifted his tail and brayed, an honest old fashioned bray that set Roger at his breakfast getting with a broad grin.

The sun was not an hour high when the two started on the home trail. Peter scorned the lead rope now but led the way nimbly, finding a far easier trail than Roger had dragged him over the day before. Roger was tired and stiff. He was dirty and unshaven. But he was happy; happy as he had never dreamed of being; too happy, too utterly brain weary to think. He only knew that he was going home to Charley.

They reached the mesa that evening, at sundown. With all the desire in the world, Roger could not go on. So he made camp in a little draw and lay down to sleep. He did not waken until morning.

It was well toward supper time when Roger reached the ranch. There was no one to be seen. Roger turned Peter into the corral and fed him, then went into the living tent, shaved and changed his clothing. Charley, Elsa and Dick were at supper when Roger entered and with a quick sense of remorse he saw that each face turned toward him wore a look of startled anxiety. He paused in the doorway, the lamp glow disclosing the lines of exhaustion around his mouth.

"Hello," he said, huskily, "I've come back to you people, if you'll have me!"

Elsa was the first to rush to him. "Oh, Roger, did you really want to come back?" she cried.

Roger stooped and kissed her cheek. "Want to come back? Why, I've almost died of impatience getting back."

Dick shoved Elsa gently aside. "I'm sure things can be fixed up, Roger," he said. "Ernest isn't—"

Roger interrupted by placing both hands on Dick's shoulders. "Old man," he said. "The important thing to me now is for you to understand how I feel about you, how I understand what you've been through and how I need your help, just because of what you've been through."

There was a sudden silence. Charley, her great eyes on Roger's face, did not move. Dick cleared his throat.

"Why—why—Roger!—My God—do you mean it? That you don't hate me any more? Don't bluff me, Roger! I've been in too lonely a hell. What's happened to you, Rog?"

"I've come to," replied Roger, dropping his hands from Dick's shoulders and crossing the room to stand before Charley.

She had risen and was standing quietly behind her chair. Roger, with his eyes on hers, lifted both her hands against his breast.

"Charley!" he said, huskily, "Oh, Charley! Charley!" and then, his voice and his will failed him and he bowed his head on her shoulder.

Charley freed one hand and laid it on his head. "Poor child!" she murmured. "Poor old Roger!"

Elsa sniffed in a manner peculiarly like a sob, and Roger raised his head with a sheepish laugh.

"I guess I'm about all in," he said.

"You're hungry and tired out," exclaimed Charley. "Sit down, Roger and have some supper."

There was a little flurry of bringing fresh plates and an extra chair and the interrupted meal was begun again.

"Where on earth did you go, Roger?" asked Elsa. "We saw you start straight across the valley."

"I got as far as the river. I didn't do Ernest any real damage, did I?" Roger looked at Dick inquiringly.

"I guess not. He seems to have worked around, as usual. He and Gustav went into Archer's Springs yesterday."

There was a moment's pause, then Elsa said, "What do you intend to do, Roger?"

Roger laid down his knife and fork, dejectedly. "I don't know! How could a man like Ernest do such a rotten trick!"

"He refused to make us any explanation whatever," said Dick. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm through with him unless he comes across with a satisfactory statement. I don't like the look of the whole thing."

"Elsa agrees with Dick and me," Charley looked at Elsa's troubled face sympathetically, "that Ernest's got to be kept in Coventry until something drastic is done. We were all hoping and believing that you'd come back to see the matter through."

Roger finished his second cup of coffee in deep thought. "I'll have to have a talk with Ernest," he said, finally.

"Hackett brought in the new pump yesterday morning," said Dick. "He brought a bunch of newspapers. We've been floored by their contents."

"Yes," exclaimed Charley, "the war news is unbelievable."

"They've sacked Louvain!" cried Elsa.

"Who sacked Louvain? It sounds like the Dark Ages!" asked Roger.

"The Germans!" Elsa, evidently controlling her voice with difficulty went on, "They've shot old women and children as hostages. Hostages! Why that word belongs to the Dark Ages. It's unbelievable! And the library—all those priceless things are burned."

"Good God!" exclaimed Roger. Then, "What does Ernest say to this?"

"None of us have talked to him since you left," said Charley.

"But whether it's a war of offense or defense, there's no excuse for that sort of thing. I thought German culture—" Roger paused and Elsa cut in excitedly—

"Culture! I tell you they never were cultured, the Germans. Look at Professor Rosenthal and Dad and Ernest. How deep is their so-called culture? Bah! Petty tyrants in their homes and bloody savages, I'll bet, if they run amuck."

"Keep your hair on, Elsa, old dear." Dick patted the excited girl on the shoulder.

"Some one's coming up the trail," exclaimed Charley.

There was a footstep on the porch as she spoke and Ernest appeared in the doorway. His face was sullen and he made no pretense of a greeting.

"I came up to say that Mr. Werner will be here to-morrow and it will be necessary for you to see both him and me, Roger, and settle this miserable affair. We'll come up as soon as Werner arrives, probably late in the afternoon."

Ernest turned abruptly on his heel. Roger sprang to his feet. Charley laid a quick hand on his arm. Roger gave her a glance. "It's all right, Charley. Don't worry! Hold on, Ernest. We'll have this thing out right now."

Ernest turned back slowly. "There's nothing to have out. A man has a right to his own political opinion. And as for the Werner matter, you insulted me for doing you a favor and I'm through with you."

"Favor!" gasped Roger. "Why Ernest, you're crazy! You lied to me and sneaked on me and it wasn't to do me a favor, at all. It was for Germany. That's what gets all our goats. For Germany!"

"Well, what's the matter with Germany? You've worshiped at her shrine all these years, haven't you? And now in her hour of need, you turn against her," sneered Ernest.

Roger looked from Charley to Dick in utter bewilderment. "Germany's hour of need! The hour of need of a horde of vandals.—Where's your common sense, Ern?"

"It's a Dutchman's logic, Roger, that's all!" cried Elsa. "You're just beginning to recognize it! Lord, I was brought up on it!"

"Oh, dry up, Elsa! You were always a disloyal minx," growled Ernest. "Now, you folks are welcome to think what you please. I'm not like Roger, ready to murder a man who has a different political opinion from me. I'm going to see that Werner's given a square deal, then I'm going to quit the whole bunch of you."

"Look here, Ern, you've got to straighten this business out," insisted Roger. "Crazy Dutch and Werner and Gustav and you! It's a dirty deal, somehow. Just why did you turn on your best friend, Ernest?"

"Turn on my best friend! I like that from you, with your devil's temper. And you've turned nasty nice all of a sudden, about where you get your money, after robbing all the mines around here."

"You know I've sent a list of everything I've taken from each mine to each mine owner and asked him to send a bill!" shouted Roger.

"Huh! That may be, but when it comes to giving Mr. Werner a chance at the Solar Plant, I recalled all that and didn't suppose you'd be finicky."

Roger's drawn face burned. Felicia's clock on the mantel ticked and Charley's deep eyes did not leave Roger's clenched fists. He ground his teeth, then drew a long breath.

"That was a rotten thing to say to me, Ern, but I guess I deserved part of it. Of course, the contract with Werner's got to be broken, and I want you to chew on this. You've got to choose between Werner and me. Our friendship ends unless you drop Germany."

"Oh, hell!" grunted Ernest and he turned and disappeared into the night.

Elsa shrugged her shoulders and began to gather up the dishes. Charley followed her example mechanically. Roger and Dick lighted their pipes and stood with their backs to the empty fireplace, and no one spoke until the dishes were finished and the girls were seated with their sewing.

Then, "By Jove," said Dick. "I don't know what to suggest."

"Neither do I," echoed Roger. "But this much I know. The main point is to save Ernest. The Solar Plant is secondary. He's got to do what's right in this."

"You'll never get away with it, Roger," exclaimed Dick. "Ernest really believes in this superman stuff. He's a German."

"He's got to do what's right," repeated Roger, this time with a tired break in his voice. "I feel as if I'd never believe in a man again unless he does. What can I do, Elsa?"

Elsa shook her head. "I don't know. If you people will think back you'll realize you've all been raised on adulation of Germany. Ernest is merely the logical product of his ancestry and environment."

"How did you escape the poison, Elsa?" asked Charley.

"Overstuffed," she replied. "And I'm not alone. There's any number of us American children of German parents who've been fed up on the 'Vaterland' stuff."

"Elsa," asked Dick, suddenly, "is Ernest a spy?"

The girl turned crimson. Roger interrupted quickly: "Oh, I say, Dick, give Ernest first chance to answer that question."

"No, I'll answer it," replied Elsa. "He wasn't up to the time he came to the desert, I'm sure. He was just wonderfully prepared soil, ready for the planting of any sort of seed. What Mr. Werner did to him, I don't know."

"Do you think Werner is a spy?" asked Charley.

"Probably, of an exalted order. As I look back now, he's been using Papa and all the rest of the silly Turnverein, any way he wants to. How much they know we never shall know. My heavens, what a dirty place the world is!"

No one replied to this comment. Roger sighed deeply and a pitying glance passed between the two girls as he dropped his head dejectedly on his hands.

"Well, let's postpone more talk until morning," said Dick. "Elsa, going to help me put the menagerie to bed?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Elsa with alacrity, adding, as she followed Dick to the door, "Don't you think Roger'd better sleep here, to-night? With Gustav in the living tent—"

Charley nodded. "I'll make up the cot on the porch." She eyed Roger's drooping head with tear-dimmed eyes, as the others went out.

Roger lifted his worn face and gave Charley a long look. She was recovering some of her tone. Her eyes were bright and though the deepened sadness of her mouth