This day brought its own bitter disappointment. After her bath in the
clear pool among the willows, and their mere taste of bacon and bread
in the name of breakfast, and a promise exacted from Haig, as a
condition of her leaving him, that he would do nothing of which she
would disapprove, she set out to get her deer. Rifle on shoulder, and
eyes alert, she skirted the edge of the wood along the base of the
cliff, through tall grasses of a golden green, among yellowing aspen
groves, and under a fair blue sky. But presently she plunged into the
thick of the forest, of which the trees towered to a height exceeding
that of any she had ever seen before. In their tops the breeze was
singing sonorously, but among their massive boles the silence was so
tense that twigs cracking under her feet sounded like gun-shots
echoing through the dim aisles.
For some hours she wandered fruitlessly in that dark labyrinth, not
only mindful of Philip's warning that she must not penetrate too deep
into its depth, but fearful on her own account of an encounter with
some such wild beast as that whose cry had terrified her. In time the
hollow indifference of the woods began to weigh upon her spirits,
which had been high and hopeful on her setting out. Worn out at last,
she was just on the point of turning back toward the camp, defeated,
when she came upon an open space, a lovely little glade, in which the
grass grew rank and green, unripened by the sun. She started to cross
it, but stopped suddenly, staring straight ahead. In the very middle
of the lush and silent glade, a young doe rose swiftly to its feet,
and looked at her. Marion stood and looked at the doe. Then there was
a streak of pale yellow across the grass, the forest closed around it,
and the doe was gone. Thereupon, Marion remembered her rifle, and saw
with something like surprise, to begin with, that it was pointed
foolishly toward the ground. She gazed at it a moment, then sat plump
down on the mossy earth, and cried.
"Oh, what a fool!" she groaned. "What a poor, silly little fool! I
ought to starve, starve, starve!"
And on the words the hunger that she had bravely kept back rose and
punished her. To be hungry in a world of plenty, where she had only to
reach out and help herself! To think of Philip, hungry too, and
depending on her, on her boasted prowess! Humiliation scorched her
like a flame. And this was Marion Gaylord!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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