CHAPTER XXXVIII – THE SEARCH FOR RODERICK
THE general shock of horror caused by the San Francisco disaster was intensified at Encampment when the news ran round that three local people had been in the stricken city at the moment of the earthquake shock which had laid the business centre in ruins and prepared the way for the subsequent far-sweeping conflagration. No telegram came from either the Holdens or Roderick Warfield, and their silence, their failure to relieve the anxiety of the friends they must have known were deeply concerned about their safety, could only cause ominous conjectures as to their fate. There was no possibility of reaching them by wire, for the Palace Hotel, the only known address, had been one of the first buildings destroyed.
But Buell Hampton did not wait for telegrams to reach him. He had no sooner been apprised of the catastrophe than he was on his way to Rawlins, hiring a special conveyance on the mere off-chance that railway schedules would have been disarranged and a train might be caught at any moment. In this he showed his usual good judgment for within an hour of reaching the station he was on board a belated limited, in which he had the further good fortune to find one solitary sleeping berth unoccupied. The train was loaded with returning San Francisco people who had been absent when their homes had been swept away, anxious friends of sufferers, doctors, nurses, relief workers of every kind, newspaper men, all hurrying to the scene of sorrow and suffering.
It was on the morning of the fifth day after the earthquake that Buell Hampton, provided with a special permit, at last found himself amid the ruins of San Francisco. Many buildings were still burning or smoldering, but the area of destruction was now defined and the spread of the flames checked. With saddened heart the Major picked his way along what once had been Market Street but was now a long mound of fallen stones, bricks, and mortar lined by the skeletons of lofty iron-framed buildings. Here the work of clearing away the debris in search of victims was in progress. But any inquiries of those actively engaged in these operations were useless. Buell Hampton passed on.
Suddenly he came upon the bread line, a wonderful sight – a long row of people of all sorts and conditions, the rich, the poor, the educated, the ignorant, the well dressed, the tattered, ranged in single file and marching slowly past the commissary to receive a supply of provisions for their own famishing selves or for their destitute families. Buell Hampton scanned each face; neither General Holden nor Roderick were in the line, nor was there any sign of Gail.
Then he began a systematic visitation of the refuge camps that had been formed around the bumed-out area. The remainder of that first day he spent in Golden Gate Park. It was not until the succeeding afternoon that he found himself in the crowded tent city out on the Presidio. Here at last his patient and persistent efforts were rewarded. He caught sight of Gail seated near the door of a tiny tent-house and strode eagerly forward to greet her. In his deep emotion he folded the young girl to his breast, and she in turn clung to him in her joy of meeting at last a dear friend from home.
“Where is your father?” was the Major’s first inquiry.
“He is safe. We have this little tent, and I am nursing him. His right arm was broken in the street accident, but immediately after the fire began all the hospital patients were removed to open places, and here I found him, thank God, the very first evening. You see, my uncle’s house was burned. He is quartered across the bay at Oakland.”
“Your head is bandaged, Gail. Were you badly hurt?”
“Oh, that was nothing,” she replied, pulling off the narrow band of linen that encircled her brow. “Just a little scalp wound when I fell, and it is quite healed now. But, oh, I remember so little about the terrible disaster – how I got out of the Palace Hotel at all.”
“And Roderick – where is Roderick?” asked Buell Hampton.
Gail’s eyes opened wide – with wonder, then with fear.
“Roderick, Roderick!” she exclaimed in a trembling voice. “Then it was not a dream?”
“What dream?”
“That it was he who carried me out of the hotel building and to the veranda of the house where he laid me on a cot and kind friends bathed my wound.”
“No dream, this. It was Roderick for certain. He followed you on the next train to San Francisco – intending to go straight to the Palace Hotel.”
“Followed me? Why did he follow me?”
“To render you help when your father was hurt – because he loves you – of course, you must have divined how deeply he loves you.”
The color rose slowly to Gail’s face. But there was fear still in her eyes. She pressed her clasped hands to her breast.
“Then where is he now?” she asked in a tense whisper.
“That is what I want to know – I have been seeking both you and him. When did you meet last?”
“Five days ago. After saving me he rushed straight away to seek for Papa. I came to believe that it was all a dream. For I have not seen him since. Oh, he must have been hurt – he may have been killed.” And burying her face in her hands she burst into tears.
Buell Hampton laid a kindly hand on her shoulder. “Come, my dear, we can do no good by giving way to weeping. I have been through many of the refuge camps, and I shall go right on searching now. You see there are thousands of people in these Presidio grounds. He may be within a stone’s throw of us here at this very moment.”
“Oh, let me help you.” With a hand she dashed away her tears, and stood before him now, calm and resolute. “I will come with you right now. I need no hat or anything.”
“But your father?”
“He is all right He is resting quite peacefully. Just spare one moment, please. Come in and shake hands. He will be so happy to see you.”
She led the way to the tent door and parted the awning. Buell Hampton entered and warmly greeted General Holden. But he told him he could not linger, for Roderick must be found.
During the remaining hours of daylight the Major and Gail searched along row after row of tents. But Roderick remained undiscovered – no one had ever heard his name or could remember having seen anyone answering to the description given. Reluctantly Buell Hampton quitted the quest and led Gail back to her own place of refuge.
“I am sleeping at Berkeley,” he explained. “It is best that we should both have our night’s rest. But I shall be back here for you soon after daybreak, and if you can engage someone to watch by your father we shall search together all day long. Will that suit, you, Gail?”
“Oh, you are so kind taking me,” she replied, resting her hands on his shoulders, tears of gratitude in the eyes that looked up into his. “It would break my heart not to be with you.”
“I would not rob you of love’s sweet duty,” he replied as he stooped and gently kissed her on the brow.
Another day went by, but still their efforts were unrewarded. On the following morning they started for the Seal House, to search the many improvised hospitals which they had learned were located there. The first place they entered was an immense tent with two or three hundred cots ranged in crowded rows.
As Buell Hampton and Gail walked down the long central aisle, each took one side to scan the physiognomies of the poor sufferers, some moaning in delirium, others with quiet pale faces that lighted up to return the smile of sympathy and encouragement Presently, the Major who was walking a few feet in advance heard an exclamation of joy, and turning quickly saw Gail Holden kneeling at the side of a cot There was a bewildered look on the face of the patient – a lean drawn face, pallid beneath the tan, the chin stubbled with a beard of a few days’ growth, the forehead swathed in bandages, one cheek scored with a healing scar. Gail had taken one of his hands in both her own. He looked from Gail to Major Hampton and then from the Major back to Gail.
“Is this a vision?” he asked feebly, as if doubting his senses.
“Roderick, my dear fellow, is it really you?” exclaimed the Major, as he bent down over him. “For days we have been hunting for you. And now we’ve found your hotel” – he glanced around with a little smile – “we don’t propose to lose sight of you again.”
Loosening his hand from Gail’s and taking both of hers in his own and smiling feebly, Roderick said: “Really, Gail, I hardly know yet whether you are actually here or I am dreaming. You looked pretty white that day I carried you from the hotel.”
“There is no dream about me, Roderick,” replied Gail brightly. “We are going to take care of you, Major Hampton and myself, just as you so kindly looked after poor little me.”
At this moment a nurse approached: “So your friends have found you, Mr. Warfield?” she said with a cheerful smile.
“Yes,” replied Roderick, “the very best friends I have in all the world.” As he spoke Gail felt the gentle pressure of his hand.
“Is this your ward?” inquired the Major of the nurse.
“Yes, I have had charge of it ever since this makeshift hospital was put up.”
“Well, how is the patient, our friend Mr. Warfield?”
“He had received a pretty ugly cut – a falling piece of wood or something of that sort – on the top and side of his head – a sort of glancing bruise. But he is getting on very well now. We have his fever under control. For a number of days he was very flighty and talked a great deal about Major Hampton.”
“I am honored,” said the Major, bowing.
“Oh, you are Major Hampton?”
“Yes,” said Gail, “Major Buell Hampton is Mr. Warfield’s best friend – that is, one of the best.” And she looked quickly at Roderick.
“How fortunate that you have come when he is convalescing. But tell me,” asked the nurse, “who is Gail? In his delirium he talked a great deal about her.”
Roderick’s face flushed, and Gail with rising color immediately changed the subject by asking: “How soon would it be safe to have the patient removed?”
“Oh, perhaps tomorrow or the next day. The doctor says he is now quite out of danger – the fever is practically gone.”
At Roderick’s request he was propped up on his little white iron hospital cot, chairs were brought, and until far on in the afternoon Gail and the Major sat on either side, conversing in quiet, subdued tones, relating incidents in the terrible disaster, planning for their early return to Wyoming just as soon as Gail’s father and Roderick himself could stand the journey.
A couple of days later Buell Hampton and Gail arrived at the hospital in an automobile, and carried Roderick away to a yacht anchored in the bay that had been placed at their disposal. Here Roderick found General Holden already installed in a comfortable deck chair, and he was introduced by Gail to her Uncle Edward, a hale old gentleman bearing a striking resemblance to his brother. The General looked fit even if he did carry his right arm in a sling, Roderick although weak from loss of blood was able to walk, and both could well congratulate each other on their providential escape.
“We are not going to talk about these awful times,” said the General as he gave Roderick his left hand and returned the cordial pressure. “But I have to thank you for saving our dear Gail. We all fully realize that without your brave and timely help we would not have her with us today.”
“Nonsense,” protested Roderick. “Somebody else would have done what I did. I was just happy and lucky in having the privilege.”
“God bless you!” murmured the father, again pressing the hand which he had not yet relinquished.
“And so say I,” exclaimed the uncle. “We could not do without our little Gail.” And he patted her cheek affectionately.
There followed a week of blissful rest and happy companionship, at the end of which it would have been a hollow mockery to pretend in the case of either invalid that any more nursing or lolling in long chairs was required. Railroad accommodations were secured for the morrow.
CHAPTER XXXIX – REUNIONS
TEN days before the departure from San Francisco telegrams had been sent in all directions giving forth the glad tidings that General Holden and Gail, Roderick and Buell Hampton, were safe and would soon be on their homeward way to Wyoming. Among those thus notified had been the Shields family at Los Angeles and Allen Miller at Keokuk. But it was a great surprise to find Whitley Adams waiting the arrival of the morning train at Rawlins with his big Sixty Horse Power automobile, and bearing the news that Mrs. Shields, Barbara and Dorothy had returned, while also Uncle Allen and Aunt Lois had come to Encampment so that appropriate welcome might be given to those who had recently come through such terrible and harrowing experiences. Jim Rankin and Tom Sun were also on the platform to exchange hand-grips with Roderick and the Major.
After the first glad salutations Whitley pointed to his car, and announced that he was going to drive the party over to Encampment.
“Sorry to be starting in opposition to the regular stage,” he said with a sly little wink in Roderick’s direction. “But you see Mr. Rankin’s horses are hardly good enough for the occasion.”
Jim drew himself up and pointed to his old Concord stage coach standing by, all ready for the road.
“The dangnationest finest pair uv roan leaders and span uv blacks at the wheel that ever had lines over ‘em in this part of the country,” he declared sturdily. “Just wait a bit, young man. ‘Fore we’re many miles on the road I make free to prognosticate you’ll be under the bed-springs uv that new fangled wagon uv yours and my hosses will be whizzing past you like a streak uv greased lightnin’. How would a little bet uv ten or twenty dollars suit you?”
“Oh, bankers never gamble,” replied Whitley with undisturbed gravity. “Well, you’ll follow with the luggage, Mr. Rankin, and no doubt we’ll have the pleasure of seeing you again sometime tomorrow. Come away, Miss Holden. Luncheon is to be waiting at my hotel in Encampment in a couple of hours.”
“Blame his skin,” muttered Jim when the big automobile had whirled away. But Tom Sun was convulsed with laughter.
“He got your dander fairly riz, Jim,” he chuckled.
Jim’s visage expanded into a broad grin.
“Guess that’s just what he was arter. But ain’t he the most sassy cock-a-whoop little cuss anyhow?”
“Shall I help you with the luggage?” laughed Tom Sun.
“Oh, you just quit the foolin’ game, Tom. Don’t come nachural from you. Besides I might be gettin’ a heap peevish and kind o’ awkward with my artillery. Suppose we lubricate?”
So the old cronies crossed over to the Wren saloon, where a brace of cocktails soon restored Jim’s ruffled dignity.
Meanwhile the automobile was speeding along.
Roderick was on the driver’s seat beside Whitley, and absorbing the news.
“Oh, I just insisted on your Uncle Allen coming along,” Whitley was telling him. “And Aunt Lois, too. My old folks will arrive at the end of the week. Meantime Aunt Lois is helping me with my trousseau.”
“Your trousseau!”
“Yes – socks and things. You see it’s all fixed up between me and dear Dorothy. Oh, she’s the best girl ever – you’ll remember I said that from the first, Rod, my boy.” His face became grave, and his voice took a humble tone. “Of course I know I can never, fill the place of Grant Jones, and I told her that. But I’ll do my best to make her happy, and I think she cares enough for me to let me try.”
Roderick pressed the hand next him resting on the steering wheel.
“I’m sure you’ll be very happy, both of you,” he said; “and I congratulate you, Whitley, old fellow, from the bottom of my heart.”
Whitley looked round and was his gay, light-hearted self once again.
“Thanks, old chap. Well, Barbara and Ben Bragdon are also ready. We’re only waiting for you and Gail.”
Roderick’s face reddened.
“You’re mighty kind but rather premature, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, fudge and nonsense! We’re all agreed the thing’s settled, or as good as settled. Great guns anyone with half an eye could have told it, to see you handing her out of the train a little while ago.”
“Really, Whitley.”
“There now, just forget all that. So when talking matters over with Bragdon and our dear twins I suggested that we might as well ring the wedding bells for six as for two at a time – may come cheaper with the Reverend Grannon, you know, if we hand it to him wholesale.”
Roderick no longer attempted to protest, and Whitley rambled on: “But, say, old fellow, your Uncle Allen has one on you. He declares that Gail Holden is just the very girl he intended for you right from the beginning – the young lady about whom you kicked when you had that row in the banker’s room a year and a half ago – Great Scott, how time does fly!”
“Impossible,” exclaimed Roderick in profound amazement
“The very same,” replied Whitley. “The little tot of a girl with whom you had that desperate love affair down the river years and years ago – oh, quite a pretty story; your uncle told it to me with no end of charming details. And now he is mighty proud, I can tell you, over his own foresight and sagacity in picking just the right girl for you at the very start.”
“He said that, did he?” queried Roderick with a grim smile.
“Yes, and that if you had followed his advice you could have had her then, without running away from home and facing all sorts of hardships and dangers.”
“No, sir,” exclaimed Roderick firmly. “Gail Holden is not that sort of girl. Uncle Allen forgets that she had to be won – or rather has to be won,” he added, correcting himself when he caught the smile on Whitley’s countenance.
“Well, you won’t forget,” laughed Whitley, “that I stood out of the contest and left the way clear for you. Lucky, though, that the College Widow took the bit between her teeth and bolted, eh, old man?”
“Hush!” whispered Roderick, throwing a warning glance over his shoulder.
“What are you two boys talking about?” asked Gail, with a bright smile from her seat at the back of the tonneau.
“Old college days,” laughed Whitley, as he changed the clutch for a stiff up-grade.
Arriving at Encampment, they found Allen Miller walking nervously up and down the platform in front of the hotel. The red blood in Roderick’s veins surged like fierce hammer strokes, with eagerness to once more grasp the hand of his old guardian.
He hastily excused himself, jumped from the auto and grasped the extended hand of his old guardian. He was soon led away by his uncle Allen, to the parlors of the hotel, to meet his Aunt Lois.
“Oh, I am so glad you brought Roderick here, Allen; for I just knew that I would get all fussed up and cry.
“There, there, Aunt Lois,” said Roderick cheerily, after embracing her warmly, “we are not going to be separated any more, – or, if we are, it will not be for long at any one time. I know the way back to old Keokuk,” said Roderick, laughing and hugging his dear aunt Lois again, “and you and Uncle Allen now know the road out to the Wyoming hills.”
“I declare, Lois,” said Uncle Allen, “you and Roderick act like a couple of school children.” He laughed rather loudly as he said this, to hide his own agitation; but it was noticed that his eyes were filled with tears, which he hastily brushed away.
It was a happy luncheon party at the Bonhomme Hotel, Whitley playing the host to perfection, his guests, besides the new arrivals, being the whole Shields family, Banker Allen Miller and his wife, and the young state senator, Ben Bragdon. And early in the proceedings Gail to her surprise learned that Roderick was no other than her little boy lover on the river steamer Diamond Joe some fifteen years ago, and blushed in sweet confusion when Allen Miller in radiant good humor joked about coming events casting their shadows before. Roderick went to her rescue and promptly switched the topic of conversation.
Toward the close of the meal Buell Hampton was expounding to the banker a great irrigation scheme he had in view – to bring into Encampment Valley the waters of French Creek and Bear Creek, the former by a tunnel through the Hunter Range, the latter by a siphon under the Great Platte River, whereby a hundred thousand acres of rich valley lands, now wilderness because waterless, could be brought into profitable agricultural bearing.
“So you are going to drive us cattle men off the face of the country,” laughed Mr. Shields.
“Better happy homes than roaming herds,” replied Buell Hampton. “What nobler work could we take in hand?” he asked. “The smelter and the mine are running themselves now. Let us then see what we can do to make the desert blossom like the rose. Mr. Miller, Mr. Shields, myself – we can all help with capital. Mr. Bragdon, there is a life’s work for you in this enterprise.”
“Lawyers always come in for fat pickings,” laughed Whitley Adams.
“General Holden,” continued the Major, “I am sure will want to join in too. Then Roderick – ”
He paused and glanced in his young friend’s direction.
“Oh, I’m prepared to turn in all the gold from my mine,” exclaimed Roderick enthusiastically.
Indeed Buell Hampton had kindled the spirit of enthusiasm all round. The project was as good as launched – the dream of a generation of pioneers within sight of realization.
When coffee was being served on the veranda, the Major drew Roderick aside. They were seated alone at a little table.
“Roderick, my boy,” Buell Hampton began, “I want to see you tonight at my home – all alone. Come about eight o’clock. I have several matters of importance to communicate. During the afternoon I’ll be busy – I have some banking business to transact, besides I wish an hour or two with your uncle before my talk with you tonight. I am sorry to leave such a happy gathering, but am sure” – this with a gentle glance in Gail’s direction – “that the time will not hang heavily on your hands. Until eight o’clock then;” and with a tap on Roderick’s shoulder the Major crossed over and spoke a few words to Allen Miller, the two taking their departure a few moments later.
Roderick was mystified – less by Buell Hampton’s actual words than by his grave look and manner.
Meanwhile Gail had risen and entered the drawing room that opened by French windows off the veranda, and the sound of her voice at the piano broke him from his momentary reverie. He rose and joined her.