this Benjamin in my hands!"
He made a gesture as though he were snapping a stick of dry wood.
"You are the greater fool. Is not this Benjamin, this stranger, a guest
of the master?"
"I shall steal him away by night in such a manner that he shall not make
even the noise of a mouse when the cat breaks its back. I shall steal
him away and David will never know."
The loose eyelids of the old man puckered and his glance became a ray of
light.
"The curse already works; Haneemar already is in your mind, Joseph.
David will not know? Child, there is nothing that he does not know. He
uses us. We are his tools. My mind is to him as my hand is to me. He
comes inside my eyes; he knows what I think. And if old Abraham is
nothing before David, what is Joseph? Hush! Let not a whisper go out! Do
not even dare to think it. You have felt the whip of David, but you have
not felt his hand when he is in anger. A wounded mountain lion is not so
terrible as the rage of David; he would be to you as an ax at the root
of a sapling. These things have happened before. I remember. Did not
Boram once anger John? And was not Boram as great as Joseph? And did not
John take Boram in his hands and conquer him and break him? Yes, and
David is a greater body and a stronger hand than John. Also, his anger
is as free as the running of an untaught colt. Remember, my son!"
Joseph stretched out his enormous arms and his voice was a broken wail.
"Oh, Abraham, Abraham, what shall I do?"
"Wait," said the old man quietly. "For waiting makes the spirit strong.
Look at Abraham! His body has been dead these twenty years, but still
his spirit lives."
"But the curse of Haneemar, Abraham?"
"Haneemar is patient. Let Joseph be patient also."
Chapter Thirteen
*
Connor wakened in the gray hour of the morning, but beyond the window
the world was much brighter than his room. The pale terraces went down
to scattered trees, and beyond the trees was the water of the lake.
Farther still the mountains rolled up into a brighter morning. A horse
neighed out of the dawn; the sound came ringing to Connor, and he was
suddenly eager to be outside.
In the patio the fountain was still playing. As for the house, he found
it far less imposing than it had been when lantern light picked out
details here and there. The walls and the clumsy arches were the
disagreeable color of dried mud and all under the arcade was dismal
shadow. But the lawn was already a faintly shining green, and the
fountain went up above the ground shadow in a column of light. He passed
on. The outside wall had that squat, crumbling appearance which every
one knows who has been in Mexico—and through an avenue of trees he saw
the two buildings between which he had ridden the night before. From the
longer a man was leading one of the gray horses. This, then, was the
stable; the building opposite it was a duplicate on a smaller scale of
the house of David, and must be the servants' quarters.
Connor went on toward a hilltop which alone topped the site of the
master's house; the crest was naked of trees, and over the tops of the
surrounding ones Connor found that he commanded a complete view of the
valley. The day before, looking from the far-off mountaintop, it had
seemed to be a straight line very nearly, from the north to the south;
now he saw that from the center both ends swung westward. The valley
might be twelve miles long, and two or three wide, fenced by an unbroken
wall of cliffs. Over the northern barrier poured a white line of water,
which ran on through the valley in a river that widened above David's
house into a spacious lake three or four miles long. The river began
again from the end of the lake and continued straight to the base of the
southern cliffs. Roads followed the swing of the river closely on each
side, and the stream was bridged at each end of the lake. His angle of
vision was so small that both extremities of the valley seemed a solid
forest, but in the central portion he made out broad
He made a gesture as though he were snapping a stick of dry wood.
"You are the greater fool. Is not this Benjamin, this stranger, a guest
of the master?"
"I shall steal him away by night in such a manner that he shall not make
even the noise of a mouse when the cat breaks its back. I shall steal
him away and David will never know."
The loose eyelids of the old man puckered and his glance became a ray of
light.
"The curse already works; Haneemar already is in your mind, Joseph.
David will not know? Child, there is nothing that he does not know. He
uses us. We are his tools. My mind is to him as my hand is to me. He
comes inside my eyes; he knows what I think. And if old Abraham is
nothing before David, what is Joseph? Hush! Let not a whisper go out! Do
not even dare to think it. You have felt the whip of David, but you have
not felt his hand when he is in anger. A wounded mountain lion is not so
terrible as the rage of David; he would be to you as an ax at the root
of a sapling. These things have happened before. I remember. Did not
Boram once anger John? And was not Boram as great as Joseph? And did not
John take Boram in his hands and conquer him and break him? Yes, and
David is a greater body and a stronger hand than John. Also, his anger
is as free as the running of an untaught colt. Remember, my son!"
Joseph stretched out his enormous arms and his voice was a broken wail.
"Oh, Abraham, Abraham, what shall I do?"
"Wait," said the old man quietly. "For waiting makes the spirit strong.
Look at Abraham! His body has been dead these twenty years, but still
his spirit lives."
"But the curse of Haneemar, Abraham?"
"Haneemar is patient. Let Joseph be patient also."
Chapter Thirteen
*
Connor wakened in the gray hour of the morning, but beyond the window
the world was much brighter than his room. The pale terraces went down
to scattered trees, and beyond the trees was the water of the lake.
Farther still the mountains rolled up into a brighter morning. A horse
neighed out of the dawn; the sound came ringing to Connor, and he was
suddenly eager to be outside.
In the patio the fountain was still playing. As for the house, he found
it far less imposing than it had been when lantern light picked out
details here and there. The walls and the clumsy arches were the
disagreeable color of dried mud and all under the arcade was dismal
shadow. But the lawn was already a faintly shining green, and the
fountain went up above the ground shadow in a column of light. He passed
on. The outside wall had that squat, crumbling appearance which every
one knows who has been in Mexico—and through an avenue of trees he saw
the two buildings between which he had ridden the night before. From the
longer a man was leading one of the gray horses. This, then, was the
stable; the building opposite it was a duplicate on a smaller scale of
the house of David, and must be the servants' quarters.
Connor went on toward a hilltop which alone topped the site of the
master's house; the crest was naked of trees, and over the tops of the
surrounding ones Connor found that he commanded a complete view of the
valley. The day before, looking from the far-off mountaintop, it had
seemed to be a straight line very nearly, from the north to the south;
now he saw that from the center both ends swung westward. The valley
might be twelve miles long, and two or three wide, fenced by an unbroken
wall of cliffs. Over the northern barrier poured a white line of water,
which ran on through the valley in a river that widened above David's
house into a spacious lake three or four miles long. The river began
again from the end of the lake and continued straight to the base of the
southern cliffs. Roads followed the swing of the river closely on each
side, and the stream was bridged at each end of the lake. His angle of
vision was so small that both extremities of the valley seemed a solid
forest, but in the central portion he made out broad
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