The Terms of Surrender

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Tracy Louis. The Terms of Surrender

CHAPTER I. AT “MacGONIGAL’S”

CHAPTER II. THE TERMS

CHAPTER III. SHOWING HOW POWER ACQUIRED A LIMP

CHAPTER IV. THE SUDDEN RISE OF PETER MacGONIGAL

CHAPTER V. WHEREIN POWER TRAVELS EAST

CHAPTER VI. THE MEETING

CHAPTER VII. THE FORTY STEPS

CHAPTER VIII. THE STEP THAT COUNTED

CHAPTER IX. THE CHASE

CHAPTER X. NANCY DECIDES

CHAPTER XI. POWER’S HOME-COMING

CHAPTER XII. AFTER DARKNESS, LIGHT

CHAPTER XIII. THE BEGINNING OF THE PILGRIMAGE

CHAPTER XIV. THE WANDER-YEARS

CHAPTER XV. THE NEW LIFE

CHAPTER XVI. POWER DRIVEN INTO WILDERNESS

CHAPTER XVII. SHOWING HOW POWER MET A GUIDE

CHAPTER XVIII. THE SECOND GENERATION

CHAPTER XIX. THE SETTLEMENT

CHAPTER XX. THE PASSING OF THE STORM

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The Gulch was naked but unashamed, and lay in a drowsy stupor. An easterly breeze, bringing coolness elsewhere, here gathered radiated heat from gaunt walls on which the sun had poured all day, and desiccating gusts beat on Power’s face like superheated air gushing from a furnace. Not that the place was an inferno – far from it. On a June day just a year ago two young people had ridden up the rough trail on their way to the Dolores ranch, and the girl had called the man’s attention to the exquisite coloring of the rocks and the profusion of flowers which decked every niche and crevice. It may be that they looked then through eyes which would have tinted with rose the dreariest of scenes; but even today, in another couple of hours, when the sun was sinking over the mountain range to the west, the Gulch would assuredly don a marvelous livery of orange, and red, and violet. Each stray clump of stunted herbage which had survived the drought would make a brave show, and rock-mosses which should be moist and green would not spoil the picture because they were withered and brown or black.

But Power, despite a full share of the artist’s temperament, was blind to the fierce blending of color which the cliffs offered in the blaze of sunlight. His eyes were peering into his own soul, and he saw naught there but dun despair and icy self-condemnation. For he blamed himself for wrecking two lives. If Nancy Willard could possibly find happiness as Hugh Marten’s wife, he might indeed have cursed the folly of hesitation that lost her; but there would be the salving consciousness that she, at least, would drink of the nectar which wealth can buy in such Homeric drafts. But he was denied the bitter-sweet recompense of altruism. He knew Nancy, and he knew Marten, and he was sure that the fairest wild flower which the Dolores ranch had ever seen would wilt and pine in the exotic atmosphere into which her millionaire husband would plunge her.

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“A fall!” repeated MacGonigal, moving ponderously to the near side, and peering up into Power’s face. “Well, ef I ain’t dog-goned! What sort of a fall?”

“Just the common variety – downward,” said Benson. “His left leg is broken below the knee. Can you hold him until I hitch this fiery steed to a post? Then I’ll help carry him to a bedroom. After that, if I can be of any use, tell me what to do, or where to go – for the doctor, I mean.”

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