













IN A HOLLOW OF THE HILLS


by

Bret Bret Harte




CHAPTER I.

It was very dark, and the wind was increasing.  The last gust had been
preceded by an ominous roaring down the whole mountain-side, which
continued for some time after the trees in the little valley had lapsed
into silence.  The air was filled with a faint, cool, sodden odor, as
of stirred forest depths.  In those intervals of silence the darkness
seemed to increase in proportion and grow almost palpable.  Yet out of
this sightless and soundless void now came the tinkle of a spur's
rowels, the dry crackling of saddle leathers, and the muffled plunge of
a hoof in the thick carpet of dust and desiccated leaves.  Then a
voice, which in spite of its matter-of-fact reality the obscurity lent
a certain mystery to, said:--

"I can't make out anything!  Where the devil have we got to, anyway?
It's as black as Tophet, here ahead!"

"Strike a light and make a flare with something," returned a second
voice.  "Look where you're shoving to--now--keep your horse off, will
ye."

There was more muffled plunging, a silence, the rustle of paper, the
quick spurt of a match, and then the uplifting of a flickering flame.
But it revealed only the heads and shoulders of three horsemen, framed
within a nebulous ring of light, that still left their horses and even
their lower figures in impenetrable shadow. Then the flame leaped up
and died out with a few zigzagging sparks that were falling to the
ground, when a third voice, that was low but somewhat pleasant in its
cadence, said:--

"Be careful where you throw that.  You were careless last time. With
this wind and the leaves like tinder, you might send a furnace blast
through the woods."

"Then at least we'd see where we were."

Nevertheless, he moved his horse, whose trampling hoofs beat out the
last fallen spark.  Complete darkness and silence again followed.
Presently the first speaker continued:--

"I reckon we'll have to wait here till the next squall clears away the
scud from the sky?  Hello!  What's that?"

Out of the obscurity before them appeared a faint light,--a dim but
perfectly defined square of radiance,--which, however, did not appear
to illuminate anything around it.  Suddenly it disappeared.

"That's a house--it's a light in a window," said the second voice.

"House be d--d!" retorted the first speaker.  "A house with a window on
Galloper's Ridge, fifteen miles from anywhere?  You're crazy!"

Nevertheless, from the muffled plunging and tinkling that followed,
they seemed to be moving in the direction where the light had appeared.
Then there was a pause.

"There's nothing but a rocky outcrop here, where a house couldn't
stand, and we're off the trail again," said the first speaker
impatiently.

"Stop!--there it is again!"

The same square of light appeared once more, but the horsemen had
evidently diverged in the darkness, for it seemed to be in a different
direction.  But it was more distinct, and as they gazed a shadow
appeared upon its radiant surface--the profile of a human face.  Then
the light suddenly went out, and the face vanished with it.

"It IS a window, and there was some one behind it," said the second
speaker emphatically.

"It was a woman's face," said the pleasant voice.

"Whoever it is, just hail them, so that we can get our bearings. Sing
out!  All together!"

The three voices rose in a prolonged shout, in which, however, the
distinguishing quality of the pleasant voice was sustained.  But there
was no response from the darkness beyond.  The shouting was repeated
after an interval with the same result: the silence and obscurity
remained unchanged.

"Let's get out of this," said the first speaker angrily; "house or no
house, man or woman, we're not wanted, and we'll make nothing waltzing
round here!"

"Hush!" said the second voice.  "Sh-h!  Listen."

The leaves of the nearest trees were trilling audibly.  Then came a
sudden