18
It was a very, very long time later. Cunningham was sitting peacefully upon the veranda of a house among tall mountains. His eyes roved the length of a valley that was closed in at the farther end by precipitous cliffs. There were small, contented sounds from the house behind him.
A motor-car rolled up a smooth, graded roadway. A man by the road saw the occupant of the car and shouted a greeting. Cunningham sprang to his feet and ran down to meet it.
Gray tumbled out of the car and gripped Cunningham’s hand.
“I brought my fishing-rods,” he announced exuberantly. “Where’s that stream you were writing about?”
“Find it in the morning,” said Cunningham happily. “How d’you like our valley?”
Gray came up the steps and stared out at the empty space below him. There were tall buildings down in the valley floor—great concrete buildings, with a tall shaft-house where motors whirred and an engine puffed.
“There ain’t any such place!” announced Gray firmly. “I’m dreaming it! I found a concrete road leading here. I passed half a dozen motor-trucks on the way. And one scoundrel waved at me from a steering-wheel and I’ll swear he’s the chap that had a knife in the small of my back once, ready to stick it in.”
“Quite likely,” admitted Cunningham, grinning. “He is quite glad, now, that he did not stick it in. I’ve spread the news that you were the one who proved their title to the valley, through twenty years’ occupation.”
Gray squirmed, then grinned.
“Might be useful,” he admitted, “to be popular here, in case there are any more fire-ceremonies going on.”
Cunningham’s face was serious for a moment.
“They were desperate, then,” he said. “They’d tried the Christian God and things still looked black. So they called upon some ancient deities that their forefathers had worshiped.... You mustn’t blame them, Gray.”
“I don’t.” Gray grinned. “But I do want to study their dialect, Cunningham.”
“Go ahead. It’s disappearing. We’re going in for politics, and boy scouts, and radios. We are a long way from a railroad, but our mine has built a road to it, and we have a motor-truck line that’s as good as a trolley any day. We’re highly civilized now, Gray.”
He opened the door into the house. And there was Maria to smile and give Gray her hand.
“Your husband,” said Gray, “has been boasting outrageously about what’s happened in the valley since you people came back.”
“He did it all,” said Maria proudly. “Nobody does anything, ever, without asking him.”
Gray chuckled and lifted an eyebrow at Cunningham.
“You haven’t seen the prize exhibit yet,” said Cunningham hastily. “Chief!”
There was a movement and Stephan came up a flight of steps that led outside. There was a tiny figure balanced on his shoulders. Stephan twinkled as he saw Gray, and he set his burden on the ground.
“I found him,” he announced proudly, “going down the hillside with his air-rifle. He was going to hunt bears. That is a grandson!”
Gray stooped and beckoned. The small figure came shyly forward.
“Son,” said Gray gravely, “don’t you waste your time on small game like bears. Wait until you grow up a bit, and see a picture of a pretty girl in a magazine, and you find out where she is. And then—why, then you can start out on the route to romance and adventure.”
[THE END]