The Country Beyond | Page 9

Hawkins like a little demon.
"For that--I'll kill you!" she panted. "I will. I'll kill you!"
The blow of her stick had half blinded the bootlegger's one eye, but he was coming
toward her. Swift as a bird Nada turned and ran, and as the man's footsteps crunched in
the gravel and rock behind her a wild fear possessed her--fear for Peter, and not for
herself. Very soon Hawkins was left behind, cursing at the futility of the pursuit, and at
the fate that had robbed him of an eye.
Down the coulee and out into the green meadowland of the plain ran Nada, her hair
streaming brightly in the sun, her arms clutching Peter to her breast. Peter was
whimpering now, crying softly and piteously, just as once upon a time she had heard a
baby cry--a little baby that was dying. And her soul cried out in agony, for she knew that
Peter, too, was dying. And as she stumbled onward-- on toward the black forest, she put
her face down to Peter and sobbed over and over again his name.
"Peter--Peter--Peter--"

And Peter, joyous and grateful for her love and the sound of her voice even in these
moments, thrust out his tongue and caressed her cheek, and the girl's breath came in a
great sob as she staggered on.
"It's all right now, Peter," she crooned. "It's all right, baby. He won't hurt you any more,
an' we're goin' across the creek to Mister Roger's cabin, an' you'll be happy there. You'll
be happy-- "
Her voice choked full, and her mother-heart seemed to break inside her, just as life had
gone out of that other mother's heart when the baby died. For their grief, in God's
reckoning of things, was the same; and little Peter, sensing the greatness of this thing that
had made them one in flesh and blood, snuggled his wiry face closer in her neck, crying
softly to her, and content to die there close to the warmth of the creature he loved.
"Don't cry, baby," she soothed. "Don't cry, Peter, dear. It'll soon be all right--all right--"
And the sob came again into her throat, and clung there like a choking fist, until they
came to the edge of the big forest.
She looked down, and saw that Peter's eyes were closed; and not until then did the
miracle of understanding come upon her fully that there was no difference at all between
the dying baby's face and dying Peter's, except that one had been white and soft, and
Peter's was different--and covered with hair.
"God'll take care o' you, Peter," she whispered. "He will--God, 'n' me, and Mister
Roger--"
She knew there was untruth in what she was saying for no one, not even God, would ever
take care of Peter again--in life. His still little face and the terrible grief in her own heart
told her that. For Peter's back was broken, and he was going--going even now--as she ran
moaningly with him through the deep aisles of the forest. But before he died, before his
heart stopped beating in her arms, she wanted to reach Jolly Roger's friendly cabin, in the
big swamp beyond the creek. It was not that he could save Peter, but something told her
that Jolly Roger's presence would make Peter's dying easier, both for Peter and for her,
for in this first glad spring of her existence the stranger in the forest shack had brought
sunshine and hope and new dreams into her life; and they had set him up, she and Peter,
as they would have set up a god on a shrine.
So she ran for the fording place on Sucker Creek, which was a good half mile above the
shack in which the stranger was living. She was staggering, and short of wind, when she
came to the ford, and when she saw the whirl and rush of water ahead of her she
remembered what Jolly Roger had said about the flooding of the creek, and her eyes
widened. Then she looked down at Peter, piteously limp and still in her arms, and she
drew a quick breath and made up her mind. She knew that at this shallow place the water
could not be more than up to her waist, even at the flood- tide. But it was running like a
mill-race.
She put her lips down to Peter's fuzzy little face, and held them there for a moment, and
kissed him.

"We'll make it, Peter," she whispered. "We ain't afraid, are we, baby? We'll make
it--sure--sure--we'll make it--"
She set out bravely, and the current swished about her ankles, to her knees, to her hips.
And then, suddenly, unseen hands under the water seemed to rouse themselves, and she
felt