The Spirit of Sweetwater

The Spirit of Sweetwater, by
Hamlin Garland

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Title: The Spirit of Sweetwater
Author: Hamlin Garland
Release Date: February 27, 2007 [EBook #20695]
Language: English
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LADIES' HOME JOURNAL LIBRARY OF FICTION

THE SPIRIT OF SWEETWATER
BY
HAMLIN GARLAND
AUTHOR OF WAYSIDE COURTSHIPS MAIN-TRAVELED
ROADS PRAIRIE SONGS, ETC.
PHILADELPHIA CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO.
Copyright, 1898, by HAMLIN GARLAND

TO JESSIE VIOLA AND HARRIET EDITH GARLAND
[Illustration: Hamlin Garland]

THE MYSTERY OF MOUNTAINS
As the sun sinks And the cañons deepening in color Add mystery to
silence Then the lone traveller lying out-stretched Beneath the silent
pines on some high range Watches and listens in ecstasy of fear And
timorous admiration.
In the roar of the stream he catches The reminiscent echo of colossal
cataracts; In the cry of the cliff-bird He thinks he hears the eagle's
scream Or yowl of far-off mountain-lion; In the fall of a loose rock He
fancies the menacing footfall of the grizzly bear; And in the black deeps
of the lower cañon His dreaming eyes detect once more Prodigious
lines of buffalo crawling snake-wise Athwart the stream, Or files of
Indian warriors Winding downward to the distant plain, Where
camp-fires gleam like stars.

Part I

The Spirit of Sweetwater

CHAPTER I
One spring day a young man of good mental furnishing and very
slender purse walked over the shoulder of Mount Mogallon and down
the trail to Gold Creek. He walked because the stage fare seemed too
high.
Two years and four months later he was pointed out to strangers by the
people of Sweetwater Springs. "That is Richard Clement, the sole
owner of 'The Witch,' a mine valued at three millions of dollars." This
in itself was truly an epic.
Sweetwater Springs was a village in a cañon, out of which rose two
wonderful springs of water whose virtues were known throughout the
land. The village was wedged in the cañon which ran to the mighty
breast of Mogallon like a fold in a king's robe.
The village and its life centered around the pavilion which roofed the
spring, and Clement spent his evenings there in order to see the people,
at least, as they joyously thronged about the music-stand and sipped the
beautiful water which the Utes long, long ago called "sweet water," and
visited with reverence and hope of returning health.
Since the coming of his great wealth Clement had not allowed himself
a day's vacation, and he had grown ten years older in that time. There
were untimely signs of age in his hair and in the troubled lines of his
face. He was a young man, but he looked a strong and stern and
careworn man to those whose attention was called to him. He was a

conscientious man, and the possession of great wealth was not without
its gravities.
For the first time he felt it safe to leave his mine in other hands. He had
a longing to mix with his kind once more, and in his heart was the
secret hope that somewhere among the women of the Springs he might
find a girl to take to wife. He arranged his vacation for July, not
because it was ever hot at the Creek, but because he knew the Springs
swarmed at that time with girls from the States. It would have troubled
him had any one put these ideas into words and accused him of really
seeking a bride.
He was a self-unconscious man naturally, and he hardly realized yet
how widely his name had gone as the possessor of millions. He
supposed himself an unnoticed atom as he stood at the spring on the
second night of his stay in the village. Of a certainty many did not
know him, but they saw him, for he was a striking figure--a handsome
figure--though that had never concerned him. He was, in fact, feeling
his own insignificance.
He was standing there in shadow looking out somberly upon the
streams of people as they came to take their evening draught at the
wonderful water of the effervescing spring. The sun had gone behind
the high peaks to the