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Advances in Experimental Medicine and Biology 1318
Coronavirus
Disease -
COVID-19
Advances in Experimental Medicine
and Biology
Volume 1318
Series Editors
Wim E. Crusio, Institut de Neurosciences Cognitives et Intégratives
d’Aquitaine, CNRS and University of Bordeaux, Pessac Cedex, France
Haidong Dong, Departments of Urology and Immunology, Mayo Clinic,
Rochester, MN, USA
Heinfried H. Radeke, Institute of Pharmacology & Toxicology, Clinic of the
Goethe University Frankfurt Main, Frankfurt am Main, Hessen, Germany
Nima Rezaei, Research Center for Immunodeficiencies, Children’s Medical
Center, Tehran University of Medical Sciences, Tehran, Iran
Junjie Xiao, Cardiac Regeneration and Ageing Lab, Institute of
Cardiovascular Sciences, School of Life Science, Shanghai University,
Shanghai, China
Advances in Experimental Medicine and Biology provides a platform for
scientific contributions in the main disciplines of the biomedicine and the life
sciences. This series publishes thematic volumes on contemporary research in
the areas of microbiology, immunology, neurosciences, biochemistry,
biomedical engineering, genetics, physiology, and cancer research. Covering
emerging topics and techniques in basic and clinical science, it brings together
clinicians and researchers from various fields.
Advances in Experimental Medicine and Biology has been publishing
exceptional works in the field for over 40 years, and is indexed in SCOPUS,
Medline (PubMed), Journal Citation Reports/Science Edition, Science
Citation Index Expanded (SciSearch, Web of Science), EMBASE, BIOSIS,
Reaxys, EMBiology, the Chemical Abstracts Service (CAS), and Pathway
Studio.
2019 Impact Factor: 2.450 5 Year Impact Factor: 2.324
Coronavirus
Disease - COVID-19
Editor
Nima Rezaei MD, PhD
Research Center for Immunodeficiencies,
Children's Medical Center
Tehran University of Medical Sciences
Tehran, Iran
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature
Switzerland AG 2021
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher,
whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation,
reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any
other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation,
computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are
exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in
this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor
the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material
contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains
neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.
This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
This book would not have been possible without the continuous
encouragement of my family.
I wish to dedicate it to my daughters, Ariana and Arnika,
with the hope that we learn enough from today to make a
brighter future for the next generation.
This book is also dedicated to honoring the memory of our
brave fallen doctors and nurses who fought against COVID-19.
Preface
vii
viii Preface
closely with two other faculty members of our hospital, who were both
recently infected by COVID-19. So, am I positive for COVID-19? Fortunately,
in the 2 weeks after that meeting and after 8 months of working in the pediat-
ric referral hospital during the pandemic, I had not presented any symptom of
the disease, until October 2020, when I faced headache, backache, chills, and
malaise, which made me to qurantine myself for 18 days. As I was quite sure
about my symptoms, I did not test for SARS-CoV-2 during my quarantine.
However, SARS-CoV-2 IgG had been incresead slightly, when I got back to
the hospital. So, I am not among more than a hundred million of reported
cases, which might show that the number of COVID-19 is understimated!
Meanwhile, the global challenges and concerns still remain, while many
questions are yet to be answered! Is being asymptomatic not equal to being
affected? How does the virus spread? Does the outbreak situation change by
weather in different seasons? Who are at a higher risk of infection and mortal-
ity? Are healthy individuals without any underlying disease protected!? How
can we protect ourselves? And the immune system: Friend or Foe?
We, the world outside of China, heard the news of a Chinese city affected
by pneumonia of unknown origin in December 2019. We also saw this city, in
response to the increasing number of patients presented with this unusual
pneumonia, construct a temporary hospital in less than 2 weeks, but did not
realize that this disease could spread far beyond its boundaries, strike near us,
and provide an experience far worse than what happened in the city when
affected the first time. Wuhan was that city, and with the discovery of a coro-
navirus as the pathogen behind that, COVID-19 was the name assigned to
that unusual pneumonia.
This novel SARS-CoV-2 proved to be unique in terms of transmissibility
and mortality. A proof of its being highly contagious is that while we were all
obsessed with the movement of the SARS-CoV-2 from Wuhan to all territo-
ries worldwide, it has been very difficult for most of us to track the chrono-
logical order of its global spread after affecting Wuhan. However, its
consequences are hitting us; 5 months have passed since the the World Health
Organization (WHO) declared COVID-19 a pandemic on March 11, 2020,
while many countries are fighting the first and second wave of the disease. It
should be mentioned that there were only about 100,000 diagnosed cases
within a 3-month period since the beginning of the outbreak; in the month of
April, about 3 million new cases were reported; now, there are more than 120
million officially reported cases and more than 2.5 million deaths from all
over the world (mid-March 2021); and it's still unclear when the pandemic
will end! The pandemic has profoundly affected not only human health but
also human behavior and thought. No curative therapy so far! One of my
aforementioned colleagues, who was positive for SARS-CoV-2 in March 2020
and cured, faced reinfection 2 months later with positive PCR again! There
are some other reports, especially from healthcare workers who are exhausted
from the continuous long-term fight against COVID-19, which shows the
potential risk of reinfection after decreasing the SARS-CoV-2 antibody level.
So, how effective will the vaccines be?
It’s about a century since the Spanish influenza pandemic of 1918. How
much does this situation differ from that time? And how much have we
Preface ix
remembered and learned from the pitfalls we had faced? It should also be
mentioned that this novel coronavirus (SARS-CoV-2) is the third one in the
twenty-first century that has brought us outbreaks after severe acute respira-
tory syndrome (SARS) and the Middle East respiratory syndrome (MERS) in
2003 and 2012, respectively, but how much have we prepared ourselves for
this third one? Can we make sure that we will never face such a situation in
the future?
Certain countries, which were at the top of the list of the number of
infected individuals, implemented the policy of closing their borders to
restrict travel from outside. However, they simply forgot the key point that
this virus does not know any border; thus, a borderless solution is needed
when the entire world is affected by such a global challenge! We are all living
on the same Earth, and the world’s complex problem should be considered a
human problem in general; therefore, the solution can’t be country-based.
Indeed, it's not limited to a specific field of science. Such a complex problem
involves not only medical scientists but also other scientists from formal sci-
ence to physical and chemical science to biological and social science. Thus,
there is a need to work together to solve complex problems, like COVID-19.
It is now more than a year that the SARS-CoV-2 is an inhabitant of the
human heart, lungs, intestines, and brain in an unsatisfactory manner, asking
its origins, evolution, and pathogenesis has become habituated to human
beings, in the hope to hear and learn something for enhancing their prepared-
ness for the next wave of the pandemic and the fourth outbreak of the century.
Inevitably, there have been massive amounts of data published on this curious
subject. In addition to the unexpected rapid flow of publications made avail-
able within only a few months, I have a proof of such curiosity. When I was
preparing the proposal for this book in March when the outbreak just reached
us, I could only collect about ten evidence-based chapter titles, but since then,
as time passed, there was a lot I had to include in the book. And now that the
book is about to be published, it has more than 50 chapters.
After a rapid introduction to COVID-19 as a global challenge (Chap. 1),
the book provides general discussions over characteristics, ecology, and evo-
lution of coronaviruses (Chaps. 2 and 3). Then, it goes into the details about
epidemiological (Chaps. 4 and 5), genetic (Chaps. 6 and 7), immunological
(Chaps. 8 and 9), oxidative stress (Chap. 10), and diagnostic and prognostic
(Chaps. 22–24) aspects of COVID-19. Chap. 11 takes a general view of clini-
cal manifestations of COVID-19, while Chap. 20 and Chap. 21 link to the
involvement of individual systems. During the COVID-19 pandemic, pediat-
rics and geriatrics shaped a sharp contrast in terms of disease outcomes, so
Chaps. 12 and 13 separately discuss these specific populations. Pregnant
women and neonates are other populations treated specially under the pan-
demic condition (Chap. 14). The COVID-19 problem has shown its worst
scenarios in the case of pre-existing conditions, in particular, cardiovascular
diseases (Chap. 15), hypertension (Chap. 16), and cancer (Chaps. 17 and 18).
Furthermore, it is expected to be complicated if it occurs concurrently with
tropical infections (Chap. 19). The book contains several chapters concerning
the treatment of COVID-19, ranging from supportive ventilator support and
nutrition therapy to the development of potential virus-and host- based
x Preface
xi
Acknowledgment
Nima Rezaei
xiii
Contents
xv
xvi Contents
therapeutics of COVID-19. It would also features in relation to all the three groups of coro-
explore the effects of the introduction of a naviruses. SARS-CoV is therefore supposed to
single virus, the so-called severe acute respi- be produced by multiple genetic recombination
ratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS- events. Subsequently, hCoV-NL63 and hCoV-
CoV-2), on the public health preparedness HKU1 first occurred in 2004 and 2005, and both
planning. correlated with a form of mild respiratory dis-
ease. hCoVs highly pathogenic to humans con-
Keywords tinued by the outbreak of the Middle East
respiratory syndrome (MERS) with 584 deaths
Borderless · Coronavirus · COVID-19 · and CFR of 36% in 2012. By driving the ongoing
Global · Immune system · Pandemic · pandemic of coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-
SARS-CoV-2 19), which so far has been the cause of death of
more than 560,000 people worldwide, they have
become a significant change in the twenty-first-
century medicine, healthcare system, education,
1.1 Introduction and economy.
bat coronavirus) (Zhou et al. 2020b; Paraskevis polybasic cleavage site, O-linked glycans, and
et al. 2020). Although the primary host had been an SB subunit with higher affinity for binding
indicated, it was imperative to determine the ACE2. These differences may, in part, explain
intermediate hosts between bats and humans to the higher transmission of SARS-CoV-2, which
control the pandemic. Sequence and structural as of July 11, 2020, has infected 12 million
alignment of angiotensin-converting enzyme 2 people worldwide, compared to SARS-CoV
(ACE2) among human, nonhuman primates, with less than 9000 confirmed cases during the
domestic animals, wild animals, and rodents entire outbreak.
indicate that SARS-CoV-2 may not infect The viral infection occurs when the virus acts
chicken, while nonhuman primates may be an on host cells. In the case of SARS-CoV-2, the
intermediate host for transmission (Luan et al. RBD of the spike (S) protein on the viral envelope
2020). Analysis with the binding model of S seems to orchestrate such a mutual action with
protein, receptor-binding domain region (RBD the cell-surface receptor, e.g., ACE2 (Jahanshahlu
region), and ACE2 showed that snakes, and Rezaei 2020b). It requires host proteases for
pangolins, and turtles could serve as possible the cleavage of the S protein into two subunits,
intermediate hosts (Liu et al. 2020b). However, S1 and S2, that undertake the attachment of the
recent studies have demonstrated that it is virus to the membrane and then the fusion of
unlikely for snakes and turtles to be intermediate cellular and viral membranes. Endocytosis is
hosts, and researchers suggested pangolins as another mechanism that contributes to viral
potential targets (Liu et al. 2020a). On a recent internalization, as described for the SARS-CoV
study that isolated coronavirus, they detected (Li et al. 2020b). Whether or not involving
Malayan pangolins to exhibit a high sequence clathrin, endocytosis is accompanied by the
identity (100% in the E gene, 98.2% in the M fusion of membrane with vesicles that transport
gene, 90.4% in the S gene, and 96.7% in the N viral particles and genome followed by the
gene); therefore, it was suggested that SARS- release of the virus into the cell.
CoV-2 could perhaps arise as a result of
recombination between Pangolin-CoV-like 1.3.1.2 Antigen Presentation
virus and Bat-CoV-RatG13- like virus (Xiao Self-/nonself-recognition is mastered by the
et al. 2020). major histocompatibility complex (MHC).
Particularly speaking, the presentation of
endogenous antigens to cytotoxic CD8+ T cells is
1.3 Immunopathogenesis mediated by MHC class I, while the presentation
of COVID-19 of exogenous antigens to helper CD4+ T cells is
carried out by MHC class II. Studies have
1.3.1 Virus Entry and Spread associated MHC polymorphisms with a spectrum
of immune-mediated conditions, including aging,
1.3.1.1 T he Virus Binding to Its Cell atopic diseases, autoimmune diseases, and
Receptors neurological diseases. Of interest to here is the
SARS-CoV and SARS-CoV-2 do the action of association of these polymorphisms with
cell entry with a high level of equivalence, infectious diseases, such as human
arising from the same cleavage junctions, the immunodeficiency virus (HIV), hepatitis B virus
highly similar same sequence (96%) of their (HBV), hepatitis C virus (HCV), and tuberculosis,
main protease, a high degree (76%) of similarity which is a potential source of variation in
in the amino acid sequence of their S protein, response to vaccines and, therefore, can help the
similar S2′ cleavage site, and similar residues development of vaccinomics (Saghazadeh and
essential for binding ACE2 (Saghazadeh and Rezaei 2019).
Rezaei 2020b). Compared to that of SARS-CoV, Upon the cell entry of the virus, the presenta-
the S protein of SARS-CoV-2 has acquired a tion of viral antigens by antigen-presenting cells
4 N. Rezaei et al.
ment was mainly supportive, but some drugs 1.4.2.1 Epidemiological Characteristics
showed clinical improvements like lopinavir, By July 12, 2020, COVID-19 has affected around
ritonavir, and remdesivir (Peeri et al. 2020). 13 million people worldwide. A systematic
However, no specific drug or vaccine was devel- review (Park et al. 2020) summarizes the main
oped. The WHO measures were limited to tradi- epidemiological characteristics of COVID-19 as
tional epidemic controlling tools. follows: the basic reproduction number, 1.9–6.5;
Patients were mostly from healthcare provid- the incubation period, 4–6 days; and the case
ers, and most transmissions happened in the hos- fatality rate outside of China, 0.3–1.4%.
pital setting (Skowronski et al. 2005). Many
medical procedures, like intubation, which 1.4.2.2 Routes of Transmission
exposed them to respiratory discharge, put them The transmission of SARS-CoV-2 is mainly
at risk of infection (Peeri et al. 2020). The dependent on respiratory droplets, followed by
disease also had a tremendous psychological aerosols. Other routes that possibly mediate the
impact on the healthcare staff. Confronting with virus transmission include the eye-nose and
a disease with unknown origin made immense fecal-oral transmission routes.
distress (Sim and Chua 2004). During the
pandemic, governments dealt with significant 1.4.2.3 The Spectrum of Infection
economic challenges. Quarantine limited the The spectrum of clinical severity covers both
trading to essential everyday needs, and the asymptomatic and symptomatic individuals. A
tourism industry was among the most affected symptomatic infection might cause either mild to
industries (Fan 2003). moderate symptoms of infection, severe infection
The pandemic peak was the last week of May that requires hospital admission, a critical
2003. Finally, the epidemic led to more than infection that requires intensive care unit (ICU)
8000 infected cases with about 10% mortality admission, or even death. Among symptomatic
rate, and 29 countries were affected. Presumably, individuals, about 20% develop severe to critical
the last patients were infected in July 2003, and infection, and the remainders are diagnosed as
the disease was controlled after 7 months mild to moderate infection. Very concerning is
(Cherry 2004). Up to now, no other cases of that current data, though not sufficient for
SARS infection have been reported (Peeri et al. calculation of the role of asymptomatic
2020). individuals in the transmission of infection,
clearly reveals that the challenge of containing
the infection largely lies not in detecting
1.4.2 The Current State of COVID-19 asymptomatic cases but who can carry high
concentrations of the live SARS-CoV-2 in the
Undoubtedly, the eyes can easily judge how pow- absence of symptoms. Reports provide different
erful the global influence of the COVID-19 out- estimations of the ratio of asymptomatic
break is, starting from December 2019 in Wuhan, individuals, ranging from 30% to more than 50%
China, spreading across countries worldwide in a (Nishiura et al. 2020; Gandhi et al. 2020).
few months, and turning into a pandemic (Hanaei
and Rezaei 2020; Jabbari et al. 2020). However, 1.4.2.4 High-Risk Population
the measurement of such an influence is neces- Adults aged 70 and above, male sex, and preex-
sary for controlling the present pandemic and isting medical conditions, e.g., cancer, diabe-
also would help in being prepared for its next tes, cardiovascular disease, chronic respiratory
waves. When defining the epidemiology of an disease, and hypertension, are the factors
epidemic, different factors matter, e.g., the num- known to be associated with death from
ber of infected people, the transmissibility of the COVID-19 (Ahmadi et al. 2020; Hessami et al.
infection, and the spectrum of clinical severity 2020; Basiri et al. 2020b; Shamshirian and
(Lipsitch et al. 2020). Rezaei 2020). Moreover, reports have indicated
1 Introduction on Coronavirus Disease (COVID-19) Pandemic: The Global Challenge 7
drug repositioning that is defined as using an 1.6.3 Convalescent Plasma and IVIG
approved drug for a new disease that is not on
its indication list. Considering the matter of In urgent conditions such as outbreaks when
time in the current pandemic condition, the there is no approved medication, the last hope of
best way to find potential candidates for repur- increasing the survival of the patients is to use
posing method might be computational or in convalescent plasma or immunoglobulins
silico approach. After a drug is proposed by (Pourahmad et al. 2020). It is usually performed
computational methods, the next step is to by taking the plasma of a survived patient, which
investigate the efficacy of that candidate by contains several types of immunoglobulins, and
in vitro studies. If the candidate got approval in injecting it into patients that represent severe
this level, it could enter the observational stud- forms of the disease. This method might be useful
ies or clinical trials, in which the latter is the if it was used within 48 h of the ICU admission of
most valid and reliable method to confirm a the patient. Many positive changes might occur,
drug candidate. such as reducing the need for mechanical
Table 1.1 provides a summary of the drugs ventilation, reducing the length of hospital stay,
most frequently entered into clinical trials. and recovery promotion (Chen et al. 2020; Xie
Chloroquine and hydroxychloroquine are of the et al. 2020b).
very first proposed candidates that entered the
trials. However, the computational methods have
not reported any specific target for them. 1.6.4 Monoclonal Antibodies
Lopinavir and ritonavir gain a low score in
computational methods in addition to the fact that Monoclonal antibodies are produced by one spe-
in observational studies and clinical trials, no cific clone of B cells. Therefore, they have a
specific benefit more than standard care was monovalent affinity and only identify one epitope
reported. Ribavirin is another candidate that is of an antigen. While most of the literature
acceptable by computational methods by regarding the treatment of the COVID-19
targeting two components of COVID-19, but due infection with monoclonal antibodies is related to
to its toxicity and high dose requirement, it might the previous knowledge of SARS and MERS,
not be the right choice. Although remdesivir was some studies express the effectiveness of
a promising candidate in both computational and anti-IL-6 antibodies against the COVID-19
in vitro studies, the overall number of cases is not infection. Tocilizumab is an IL-6 receptor
enough to statistically confirm its effectiveness. antagonist that lowered the use of oxygen
Favipiravir has the same condition as remdesivir, supplement in 75% of patients in a study
but the reports of its effectiveness are on moderate conducted in China. Another relevant monoclonal
cases of the disease, and there is not enough antibody is sarilumab, in which its efficacy is not
evidence for its effect on more severe cases. The approved yet, and it is in phase II/III clinical trial
other potential candidate to mention is atazanavir, (Lu et al. 2020).
which has successfully targeted six components
of COVID-19 in computational methods.
Furthermore, besides its positive results in 1.6.5 Corticosteroids
in vitro studies in decreasing viral replication, it
is reported that atazanavir has some anti- When an enhanced immune response arises, it
inflammatory effects because it diminishes the causes several injuries to the body, and the use of
IL-6 and TNF-α secretion from infected corticosteroids lies in reducing these injuries.
monocytes. However, there is no ongoing clinical However, the corticosteroids might cause some
trial on this potential candidate. side effects like lowering the pace of the viral
10 N. Rezaei et al.
epidemics. The COVID-19 vaccine candidates ple, infections and organ failure, as well as to
that have entered the clinical trials are DNA- other conditions that increase the risk of under-
based, RNA-based, live attenuated virus, and nutrition like aging (Hirbod-Mobarakeh et al.
inactivated virus vaccine platforms as of writing 2014). Besides, micronutrients, e.g., trace ele-
this manuscript (Craven 2020, 28 May). RNA- ments and vitamins, crucially contribute to the
based and DNA-based vaccine development regulation of immune responses, interestingly
platforms and recombinant-subunit developing antiviral immune responses (Mahmoudi and
platforms have a potential faster process than Rezaei 2019). Nutritional therapy is, therefore, of
other platforms. The potential fast speed of RNA high priority during the pandemic of COVID-19,
and DNA vaccines is because the development causing an acute respiratory infection associated
process of these vaccines does not require with fever and multiorgan failure. In particular, it
fermentation or culture. Furthermore, next- might be beneficial to older people with preexist-
generation sequencing and reverse genetics are ing chronic conditions, who are considered as the
considered as tools that can accelerate the vaccine most susceptible vulnerable to COVID-19 and
development process in the time of epidemics. adverse outcomes.
However, there are more challenges in developing Other efforts to combat COVID-19 occur in
a vaccine for COVID-19 itself. For example, multiple disciplines of immunotherapy (Fathi
whether to use a full-length spike protein or RBD and Rezaei 2020; Lotfi et al. 2020), regenerative
as the target has remained an unsolved issue medicine (Basiri et al. 2020b), medical biotech-
(Sharifkashani et al. 2020). Furthermore, nology (Rezaei 2020b), picotechnology (Rabiee
regarding the recent vaccine candidates’ et al. 2020), and telemedicine (Moazzami et al.
preclinical studies, it has been observed that the 2020). However, the quality of clinical studies
candidates can intensify the pulmonary damage does not meet the requirements (Rzymski et al.
both directly and as a consequence of the surge in 2020). The observation of the same phenotype of
the level of antibodies (Lurie et al. 2020). By disease in family members and individuals with
considering these obstacles in this way, the idea specific genetic defects might establish a genetic
of vaccine repurposing might help to speed up basis of disease that would deserve the attention
this process. As an illustration, the Bacillus of clinical pharmacists (Yousefzadegan and
Calmette-Guerin (BCG) live-attenuated vaccine Rezaei 2020; Darbeheshti and Rezaei 2020).
is one of the first candidates proposed to be
effective against COVID-19, and some clinical
trials are underway to investigate its effectiveness 1.7 OVID19 Pandemic: Global
C
(medicine 2020a, b). Challenges, Prevention,
and Preparedness
for the Next Pandemic
1.6.7 Nutrition
The primary prevention steps included isolation
As new trends in the diet have emerged, so have of confirmed cases, quarantine of suspected indi-
the new trends in noncommunicable diseases. viduals, and traveler screening. Scientific collab-
Nutrition therapy and its immunomodulatory orations facilitated the identification of the virus,
effects have been a topic of crucial importance in and the genome was sequenced in mid- April
the context of chronic diseases that lack a specific 2003 (Skowronski et al. 2005). The genome
treatment, including cardiovascular diseases, sequencing gave on to the development of sophis-
cancer, and metabolic disorders. The importance ticated diagnosis tests and targets for medication
of nutrition therapy extends to acute conditions and vaccine (Chow et al. 2003).
that increase nutritional requirements, for exam-
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noble allies that struggled on with us, without one token of
resistance.
Fulano suffered least. He turned his brave eye back, and
beckoned me with his ear to listen, while he seemed to say: “See,
this is my Endurance! I hold my Power ready still to show.”
And he curved his proud neck, shook his mane like a banner, and
galloped the grandest of all.
We came to a broad strip of sand, the dry bed of a mountain-
torrent. The trail followed up this disappointing path. Heavy
ploughing for the tired horses! How would they bear the rough work
down the ravine yet to come?
Suddenly our leader pulled up and sprang from the saddle.
“Look!” he cried, “how those fellows spent their time, and saved
ours. Thank Heaven for this! We shall save her, surely, now.”
It was water! No need to go back to Pindar to know that it was
“the Best.”
They had dug a pit deep in the thirsty sand, and found a lurking
river buried there. Nature never questioned what manner of men
they were that sought. Murderers flying from vengeance and
planning now another villain outrage,—still impartial Nature did not
change her laws for them. Sunshine, air, water, life,—these boons of
hers,—she gave them freely. That higher boon of death, if they were
to receive, it must be from some other power, greater than the
undiscriminating force of Nature.
Good luck and good omen, this well of water in the sand! It
proved that our chase had suffered as we, and had been delayed as
we. Before they had dared to pause and waste priceless moments
here, their horses must have been drooping terribly. The pit was
nearly five feet deep. A good hour’s work, and no less, had dug it
with such tools as they could bring. I almost laughed to think of the
two, slowly bailing out the sliding sand with a tin plate, perhaps, and
a frying-pan, while a score of miles away upon the desert we three
were riding hard upon their tracks to follow them the fleeter for this
refreshment they had left. “Sic vos non vobis!” I was ready to say
triumphantly; but then I remembered the third figure in their group,
—a woman, like a Sibyl, growing calmer as her peril grew, and
succor seemed to withdraw. And the pang of this picture crushed
back into my heart any thoughts but a mad anxiety and a frenzy to
be driving on.
We drank thankfully of this well by the wayside. No gentle beauty
hereabouts to enchant us to delay. No grand old tree, the shelter
and the landmark of the fountain, proclaiming an oasis near. Nothing
but bare, hot sand. But the water was pure, cool, and bright. It had
come underground from the Sierra, and still remembered its parent
snows. We drank and were grateful, almost to the point of pity. Had
we been but avengers, like Armstrong, my friend and I could
wellnigh have felt mercy here, and turned back pardoning. But
rescue was more imperative than vengeance. Our business tortured
us, as with the fanged scourge of Tisiphone, while we dallied. We
grudged these moments of refreshment. Before night fell down the
west, and night was soon to be climbing up the east, we must
overtake,—and then?
I wiped the dust and spume away from Fulano’s nostrils and
breathed him a moment. Then I let him drain deep, delicious
draughts from the stirrup-cup. He whinnied thanks and undying
fealty,—my noble comrade! He drank like a reveller. When I mounted
again, he gave a jubilant curvet and bound. My weight was a feather
to him. All those leagues of our hard, hot gallop were nothing.
The brown Sierra here was close at hand. Its glittering, icy
summits, above the dark and sheeny walls, far above the black
phalanxes of clambering pines, stooped forward and hung over us as
we rode. We were now at the foot of the range, where it dipped
suddenly down upon the plain. The gap, our goal all day, opened
before us, grand and terrible. Some giant force had clutched the
mountains, and riven them narrowly apart. The wild defile gaped,
and then wound away and closed, lost between its mighty walls, a
thousand feet high, and bearing two brother pyramids of purple cliffs
aloft far above the snow line. A fearful portal into a scene of the
throes and agonies of earth! and my excited eyes seemed to read,
gilded over its entrance, in the dead gold of that hazy October
sunshine, words from Dante’s inscription,—
“Per me si va tra la perduta gente;
Lasciate ogni speranza voi, ch’ entrate!”
“Here we are,” said Brent, speaking hardly above his breath. “This
is Luggernel Alley at last, thank God! In an hour, if the horses hold
out, we shall be at the Springs; that is, if we can go through this
breakneck gorge at the same pace. My horse began to flinch a little
before the water. Perhaps that will set him up. How are yours?”
“Fulano asserts that he has not begun to show himself yet. I may
have to carry you en croupe, before we are done.”
Armstrong said nothing, but pointed impatiently down the defile.
The gaunt white horse moved on quicker at this gesture. He seemed
a tireless machine, not flesh and blood,—a being like his master,
living and acting by the force of a purpose alone.
Our chief led the way into the cañon.
CHAPTER XX.
A HORSE.
Yes, John Brent, you were right when you called Luggernel Alley a
wonder of our continent.
I remember it now,—I only saw it then;—for those strong scenes
of nature assault the soul whether it will or no, fight in against
affirmative or negative resistance, and bide their time to be admitted
as dominant over the imagination. It seemed to me then that I was
not noticing how grand the precipices, how stupendous the
cleavages, how rich and gleaming the rock faces in Luggernel Alley.
My business was not to stare about, but to look sharp and ride hard;
and I did it.
Yet now I can remember, distinct as if I beheld it, every stride of
that pass; and everywhere, as I recall foot after foot of that fierce
chasm, I see three men with set faces,—one deathly pale and
wearing a bloody turban,—all galloping steadily on, on an errand to
save and to slay.
Terrible riding it was! A pavement of slippery, sheeny rock; great
beds of loose stones; barricades of mighty boulders, where a cliff
had fallen an æon ago, before the days of the road-maker race;
crevices where an unwary foot might catch; wide rifts where a shaky
horse might fall, or a timid horseman drag him down. Terrible riding!
A pass where a calm traveller would go quietly picking his steps,
thankful if each hour counted him a safe mile.
Terrible riding! Madness to go as we went! Horse and man, any
moment either might shatter every limb. But man and horse neither
can know what he can do, until he has dared and done. On we
went, with the old frenzy growing tenser. Heart almost broken with
eagerness.
No whipping or spurring. Our horses were a part of ourselves.
While we could go, they would go. Since the water, they were full of
leap again. Down in the shady Alley, too, evening had come before
its time. Noon’s packing of hot air had been dislodged by a mountain
breeze drawing through. Horses and men were braced and cheered
to their work; and in such riding as that, the man and the horse
must think together and move together,—eye and hand of the rider
must choose and command, as bravely as the horse executes. The
blue sky was overhead, the red sun upon the castellated walls a
thousand feet above us, the purpling chasm opened before. It was
late, these were the last moments. But we should save the lady yet.
“Yes,” our hearts shouted to us, “we shall save her yet.”
An arroyo, the channel of a dry torrent, followed the pass. It had
made its way as water does, not straightway, but by that potent
feminine method of passing under the frowning front of an obstacle,
and leaving the dull rock staring there, while the wild creature it
would have held is gliding away down the valley. This zigzag channel
baffled us; we must leap it without check wherever it crossed our
path. Every second now was worth a century. Here was the sign of
horses, passed but now. We could not choose ground. We must take
our leaps on that cruel rock wherever they offered.
Poor Pumps!
He had carried his master so nobly! There were so few miles to
do! He had chased so well; he merited to be in at the death.
Brent lifted him at a leap across the arroyo.
Poor Pumps!
His hind feet slipped on the time-smoothed rock. He fell short. He
plunged down a dozen feet among the rough boulders of the
torrent-bed. Brent was out of the saddle almost before he struck,
raising him.
No, he would never rise again. Both his fore-legs were broken at
the knee. He rested there, kneeling on the rocks where he fell.
Brent groaned. The horse screamed horribly, horribly,—there is no
more agonized sound,—and the scream went echoing high up the
cliffs where the red sunlight rested.
It costs a loving master much to butcher his brave and trusty
horse, the half of his knightly self; but it costs him more to hear him
shriek in such misery. Brent drew his pistol to put poor Pumps out of
pain.
Armstrong sprang down and caught his hand.
“Stop!” he said in his hoarse whisper.
He had hardly spoken, since we started. My nerves were so
strained, that this mere ghost of a sound rang through me like a
death yell, a grisly cry of merciless and exultant vengeance. I
seemed to hear its echoes, rising up and swelling in a flood of thick
uproar, until they burst over the summit of the pass and were
wasted in the crannies of the towering mountain-flanks above.
“Stop!” whispered Armstrong. “No shooting! They’ll hear. The
knife!”
He held out his knife to my friend.
Brent hesitated one heart-beat. Could he stain his hand with his
faithful servant’s blood?
Pumps screamed again.
Armstrong snatched the knife and drew it across the throat of the
crippled horse.
Poor Pumps! He sank and died without a moan. Noble martyr in
the old, heroic cause.
I caught the knife from Armstrong. I cut the thong of my girth.
The heavy California saddle, with its macheers and roll of blankets,
fell to the ground. I cut off my spurs. They had never yet touched
Fulano’s flanks. He stood beside me quiet, but trembling to be off.
“Now Brent! up behind me!” I whispered,—for the awe of death
was upon us.
I mounted. Brent sprang up behind. I ride light for a tall man.
Brent is the slightest body of an athlete I ever saw.
Fulano stood steady till we were firm in our seats.
Then he tore down the defile.
Here was that vast reserve of power; here the tireless spirit; here
the hoof striking true as a thunderbolt, where the brave eye saw
footing; here that writhing agony of speed; here the great promise
fulfilled, the great heart thrilling to mine, the grand body living to
the beating heart. Noble Fulano!
I rode with a snaffle. I left it hanging loose. I did not check or
guide him. He saw all. He knew all. All was his doing.
We sat firm, clinging as we could, as we must. Fulano dashed
along the resounding pass.
Armstrong pressed after,—the gaunt white horse struggled to
emulate his leader. Presently we lost them behind the curves of the
Alley. No other horse that ever lived could have held with the black
in that headlong gallop to save.
Over the slippery rocks, over the sheeny pavement, plunging
through the loose stones, staggering over the barricades, leaping the
arroyo, down, up, on, always on,—on went the horse, we clinging as
we might.
It seemed one beat of time, it seemed an eternity, when between
the ring of the hoofs I heard Brent whisper in my ear.
“We are there.”
The crags flung apart, right and left. I saw a sylvan glade. I saw
the gleam of gushing water.
Fulano dashed on, uncontrollable!
There they were,—the Murderers.
Arrived but one moment!
The lady still bound to that pack-mule branded A. & A.
Murker just beginning to unsaddle.
Larrap not dismounted, in chase of the other animals as they
strayed to graze.
The men heard the tramp and saw us, as we sprang into the
glade.
Both my hands were at the bridle.
Brent, grasping my waist with one arm, was awkward with his
pistol.
Murker saw us first. He snatched his six-shooter and fired.
Brent shook with a spasm. His pistol arm dropped.
Before the murderer could cock again, Fulano was upon him!
He was ridden down. He was beaten, trampled down upon the
grass,—crushed, abolished.
We disentangled ourselves from the mêlée.
Where was the other?
The coward, without firing a shot, was spurring Armstrong’s
Flathead horse blindly up the cañon, whence we had issued.
We turned to Murker.
Fulano was up again, and stood there shuddering. But the man?
A hoof had battered in the top of his skull; blood was gushing
from his mouth; his ribs were broken; all his body was a trodden,
massacred carcass.
He breathed once, as we lifted him.
Then a tranquil, childlike look stole over his face,—that well-
known look of the weary body, thankful that the turbulent soul has
gone. Murker was dead.
Fulano, and not we, had been executioner. His was the stain of
blood.
CHAPTER XXI.
LUGGERNEL SPRINGS.
“I am shot,” gasped Brent, and sank down fainting.
Which first? the lady, or my friend, slain perhaps for her sake?
“Her! see to her!” he moaned.
I unbound her from the saddle. I could not utter a word for pity.
She essayed to speak; but her lips only moved. She could not
change her look. So many hours hardening herself to repel, she
could not soften yet, even to accept my offices with a smile of
gratitude. She was cruelly cramped by her lashings to the rough
pack-saddle, rudely cushioned with blankets. But the horror had not
maddened her; the torture had not broken her; the dread of worse
had not slain her. She was still unblenching and indomitable. And still
she seemed to rule her fate with quiet, steady eyes,—gray eyes with
violet lights.
I carried her a few steps to the side of a jubilant fountain lifting
beneath a rock, and left her there to Nature, kindliest leech.
Then I took a cup of that brilliant water to my friend, my brother.
“I can die now,” he said feebly.
“There is no death in you. You have won the right to live. Keep a
brave heart. Drink!”
And in that exquisite spot, that fair glade of the sparkling
fountains, I gave the noble fellow long draughts of sweet
refreshment. The rescued lady trailed herself across the grass and
knelt beside us. My horse, still heaving with his honorable gallop,
drooped his head over the group. A picture to be remembered!
Who says that knighthood is no more? Who says the days of
chivalry are past? Who says it, is a losel.
Brent was roughly, but not dangerously, shot along the arm. The
bullet had ploughed an ugly path along the muscles of the fore-arm
and upper-arm, and was lodged in the shoulder. A bad wound; but
no bones broken. If he could but have rest and peace and surgery!
But if not, after the fever of our day, after the wearing anguish of
our doubtful gallop; if not?—
Ellen Clitheroe revived in a moment, when she saw another
needed her care. Woman’s gentle duty of nurse found her ready for
its offices. My blundering good-will gave place willingly to her fine-
fingered skilfulness. She forgot her own weariness, while she was
magnetizing away the pangs of the wounded man by her delicate
touch.
He looked at me, and smiled with total content.
“My father?” asked the lady, faintly, as if she dreaded the answer.
“Safe!” said I. “Free from the Mormons. He is waiting for you with
a friend.”
Her tears began to flow. She was busy bandaging the wound. All
was silent about us, except the pleasant gurgle of the fountains,
when we heard a shot up the defile.
The sharp sound of a pistol-shot came leaping down the narrow
chasm, flying before the pursuit of its own thundering echoes. Those
grand old walls of the Alley, facing each other there for the shade
and sunshine of long, peaceful æons, gilded by the glow of
countless summers, splashed with the gray of antique lichens on
their purple fronts, draped for unnumbered Octobers with the scarlet
wreaths of frost-ripened trailers,—those solemn walls standing there
in old silence, unbroken save by the uproar of winter floods, or by
the humming flight of summer winds, or the louder march of
tempests crowding on,—those silent walls, written close with the
record of God’s handiwork in the long cycles of creation, lifted up
their indignant voices when the shot within proclaimed to them the
undying warfare of man with man, and, roaring after, they hurled
that murderous noise forth from their presence. The quick report
sprang out from the chasm into the quiet glade, where the lady
knelt, busy with offices of mercy, and there it lost its vengeful tone,
and was blended with the rumble of the mingled rivulets of the
springs. The thundering echoes paused within, slowly proclaiming
quiet up from crag to crag, until one after another they whispered
themselves to silence. No sound remained, save the rumble of the
stream, as it flowed away down the opening valley into the haze,
violet under gold, of that warm October sunset.
I sprang up when I heard the shot, and stood on the alert. There
were two up the Alley; which, after the shot, was living, and which
dead?
Not many moments had passed, when I heard hoofs coming, and
Armstrong rode into view. The gaunt white horse galloped with the
long, careless fling I had noticed all day. He moved machine-like, as
if without choice or volition of his own, a horse commissioned to
carry a Fate. Larrap’s stolen horse trotted along by his old master.
Armstrong glanced at Murker’s body lying there, a battered mass.
“Both!” he whispered. “The other was sent right into my hands to
be put to death. I knew all the time it would be sent to me to do
killing. He was spurring up the Alley on my own horse. He snapped
at me. My pistol did not know how to snap. See here!”
And he showed me, hanging from his saddle horn, that loathliest
of all objects a man’s eyes ever lighted upon, a fresh scalp. It
sickened me.
“Shame!” said I. “Do you call yourself a man, to bring such a
thing into a lady’s presence?”
“It was rather mean to take the fellow’s hair,” says Armstrong. “I
don’t believe brother Bill would have did it. But I felt orful ugly, when
I saw that fat, low-lived devil, and thought of my brother, a big, hul-
hearted man as never gave a bad word to nobody, and never held
on to a dollar or a slug when ayry man wanted it more ’n him.
Come, I’ll throw the nasty thing away, if you say so.”
“Help me drag off this corpse, and we’ll bury man and scalp
together,” I said.
We buried him at the gate of the Alley, under a great cairn of
stones.
“God forgive them both,” said I, as I flung the last stone, “that
they were brutes, and not men.”
“Brutes they was, stranger,” says Armstrong, “but these things is
ordered somehow. I allow your pardener and you is glad to get that
gal out of a Mormon camp, ef it did cost him a horse and both on
you an all day’s tremble. Men don’t ride so hard, and look so wolfish,
as you two men have did, onless their heart is into it.”
“It is, indeed, strange,” said I, rather thinking aloud than
addressing my companion, “that this brute force should have
achieved for us by outrage what love failed in. Fate seems to have
played Brute against Brute, that Love might step between and claim
the victory. The lady is safe; but the lover may have won her life and
lost his own.”
“Look here, stranger,” says Armstrong, “part of this is yourn,”
pointing to the money-belt, which, with the dead man’s knife and
pistol, he had taken from the corpse. “Halves of this and the other
fellow’s plunder belongs to your party.”
I suppose I looked disgusted; yet I have seen gentle ladies
wearing boastfully brooches that their favorite heroes had taken
from Christian men dead on the field at Inkermann, and shawls of
the loot of Delhi cover many shoulders that would shudder over a
dead worm.
“I’m not squimmidge,” said Armstrong. “It’s my own and my
brother’s money in them belts. I’ll count that out, and then, ef you
wont take your part, I’ll pass it over to the gal’s father. I allowed
from signs ther was, that that thar boss Mormon had about tuk the
old man’s pile. Most likely these shiners they won last night is some
of the very sufferins Sizzum got from him. It’s right he should hev
’em back.”
I acknowledged the justice of this restitution.
“Now,” said Armstrong again, “you want to stay by your friend
and the gal, so I’ll take one of the pack mules and fetch your two
saddles along before dark lights down. It was too bad to lose that
iron gray; but there’s more ’n two horses into the hide of that black
of yourn. He was the best man of the lot for the goin’, the savin’, and
the killin’. Stranger, I’ve ben byin’ and sellin’ and breedin’ kettrypids
ever since I was raised myself; but I allow I never seed a horse till I
seed him lunge off with you two on his back.”
Armstrong rode up the Alley again. Another man he was since his
commission of vengeance had been accomplished. In those lawless
wilds, vendetta takes the place of justice, becomes justice indeed.
Armstrong, now that his stern duty was done, was again the kindly,
simple fellow nature made him, the type of a class between pioneer
and settler, and a strong, brave, effective class it is. It was the
education, in youth, in the sturdy habits of this class, that made our
Washington the manly chief he was.
I returned to my friends by the Springs.
Emerging from the austere grandeur of the Alley, dim with the
shadows of twilight, the scene without was doubly sweet and almost
domestic. The springs, four or five in number, and one carrying with
it a thread of hot steam, sprang vigorously out along the bold edges
of the cliffs. All the ground was verdure,—green, tender, and
brilliant, a feast to the eyes after long staring over sere deserts. The
wild creatures that came there every day for refreshment, and
perhaps for intoxication in the aerated tipple of the Champagne
Spring, kept the grass grazed short as the turf of a park. Two great
spruce-trees, each with one foot under the rocks, and one edging
fountainward, stood, pillar under pyramid. Some wreaths of drooping
creepers, floating from the crags, had caught and clung, and so
gone winding among the dark foliage of the twin trees; and now
their leaves, ripened by autumn, shook amid the dusky green like an
alighting of orioles. Except for the spruces posted against the cliffs,
the grassy area of an acre about the springs was clear of other
growth than grass. Below, the rivulet disappeared in a green thicket,
and farther down were large cottonwoods, and one tall stranger
tree, the feminine presence of a drooping elm, as much unlooked-for
here as the sweet, delicate woman whom strange chances had
brought to dignify and grace the spot. This stranger elm filled my
heart with infinite tender memories of home, and of those early
boyish days when Brent and I lay under the Berkeley College elms,
or strayed beneath the elm-built arches up and down the avenues of
that fair city clustered round the College. In those bright days,
before sorrow came to him, or to me my harsh necessity, we two in
brotherhood had trained each other to high thoughts of courtesy and
love,—a dreamed-of love for large heroic souls of women, when our
time of full-completed worthiness should come. And his time had
come. And yet it might be that the wounded knight would never
know his lady, as much loving as beloved; it might be that he would
never find a sweeter soothing in her touch, than the mere touch of
gratitude and common charity; it might be that he would fever away
his beautiful life with the fever of his wound, and never feel the holy
quiet of a lover’s joy when the full bliss of love returned is his.
I gave a few moments to the horses and mules. They were still to
be unsaddled. Healthy Fulano had found his own way to water, and
now was feasting on the crisp, short grass along the outlet of the
Champagne Spring, tickling his nose with the bubbles of gas as they
sped by. Sup, Fulano! This spot was worth the gallop to see Sup,
Fulano, the brave, and may no stain of this day’s righteous death-
doing rest upon your guiltless life!
Brent was lying under the spruces, drowsing with fatigue,
reaction, and loss of blood. Miss Clitheroe sat by watching him.
These fine beings have an exquisitely tenacious vitality. The
happiness of release had suddenly kindled all her life again. As she
rose to meet me, there was light in her eyes and color in her cheeks.
Her whole soul leaped up and spoke its large gratitude in a smile.
“My dear friend,” she said; and then, with sudden tearfulness,
“God be thanked for your heroism!”
“God be thanked!” I repeated. “We have been strangely selected
and sent,—you from England, my friend and I, and my horse, the
hero of the day, from the Pacific,—to interfere here in each other’s
lives.”
“It would seem romance, but for the sharp terror of this day,
coming after the long agony of my journey with my poor, errant
father.”
“A sharp terror, indeed!”
“But only terror!” and a glow of maidenly thankfulness passed
over her face. “Except one moment of rough usage, when I slipped
away my gag and screamed as they carried me off, those men were
considerate to me. They never halted except to dig a well in the
sand of a riverbed. I learned from their talk that they had made an
attempt to steal your horses in the night, and, failing, dreaded lest
you, and especially Mr. Brent, would follow them close. So they rode
hard. They supposed that, when I was found missing, whoever went
in pursuit, and you they always feared, would lose time along the
emigrant road, searching eastward.”
“We might have done so; but we had ourselves ridden off that
way in despair of aiding you,”—and I gave her a sketch of the events
of the morning.
“It was the hope of succor from you that sustained me. After
what your friend said to me last evening, I knew he could not
abandon me, if he had power to act.” And she looked very tenderly
at the sleeper,—a look to repay him for a thousand wounds.
“Did you find my glove?” she asked.
“He has it. That token assured us. Ah! you should have seen that
dear wounded boy, our leader, when he knew we were not astray.”
I continued my story of our pursuit,—the lulling beat of the
stream undertoning my words in the still twilight. When I came to
that last wild burst of Fulano, and told how his heroic charge had
fulfilled his faithful ardor of the day, she sprang up, thrilled out of all
weariness, and ran to the noble fellow, where he was taking his
dainty banquet by the brookside.
She flung her arms around his neck and rested her head upon his
shoulder. Locks of her black hair, escaping into curls, mingled with
his mane.
Presently Miss Clitheroe seemed to feel a maidenly consciousness
that her caresses of the horse might remind the horse’s master that
he was not unworthy of a like reward. She returned to my friend. He
was stirring a little in pain. She busied herself about him tenderly,
and yet with a certain distance of manner, building a wall of delicate
decorum between him and herself. Indeed, from the beginning of
our acquaintance yesterday, and now in this meeting of to-day, she
had drawn apart from Brent, and frankly approached me. Her fine
instinct knew the brother from the lover.
Armstrong presently rode out again.
When he saw his brother’s sorrel horse feeding with the others,
he wept like a child.
We two, the lady and I, were greatly touched.
“I’ve got a daughter myself, to home to the Umpqua,” said
Armstrong, turning to Miss Clitheroe; “jest about your settin’ up, and
jest about as many corn shuckins old. Ellen is her name.”
“Ellen is my name.”
“That’s pretty” (pooty he pronounced it). “Well, I’ll stand father to
you, just as ef you was my own gal. I know what a gal in trouble
wants more ’n young fellows can.”
Ellen Clitheroe gave her hand to Armstrong in frank acceptance of
his offer. He became the paternal element in our party,—he
protecting her and she humanizing him.
We lighted our camp-fire and supped heartily. Except for Brent’s
uneasy stir and unwilling moans, we might have forgotten the
deadly business of that day.
We made the wounded man comfortable as might be with
blankets, under the sheltering spruces. After all, if he must be hurt,
he could not have fallen upon a better hospital than the pure open
air of this beautiful shelter; and surely nowhere was a gentler nurse
than his.
Armstrong and I built the lady a bower, a little lodge of bushes
from the thicket.
Then he and I kept watch and watch beneath the starlight.
Sleeping or waking, our souls and our bodies thanked God for this
peace of a peaceful night, after the terror and tramp and battle of
that trembling day.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAMPAGNE.
How soundly I slept, in my sleeping hours, after our great victory,
—Courage over Space, Hope over Time, Love over Brutality, the
Heavenly Powers over the Demon Forces!
I sprang up, after my last morning slumber, with vitality enough
for my wounded friend and myself. I felt that I could carry double
responsibility, as Fulano had carried double weight. God has given
me the blessing of a great, vigorous life. My body has always been a
perfect machine for my mind’s work, such as that may be; and never
a better machine, with every valve, crank, joint, and journal in good
order, than on that dawn at Luggernel Springs.
If I had not awaked alive from top to toe, from tip to tip, from
end to end, alive in muscle, nerve, and brain, the Luggernel
Champagne Spring would have put life into me.
Champagne of Rheims and Epernay! Bah!
Avaunt, Veuve Clicquot, thou elderly Hebe! Avaunt, with thy
besugared, begassed, bedevilled, becorked, bewired, poptious
manufacture! Some day, at a dull dinner-party, I will think of thee
and poison myself with thy poison, that I may become deaf to the
voice of the vulgar woman to whom some fatal hostess may consign
me. But now let no thought of Champagne, even of that which the
Veuve may keep for her moment most lacrymose of “veuvage,”
interfere with my remembrance of the Luggernel Spring.
Champagne to that! More justly a Satyr to Hyperion; a stage-
moon to Luna herself; an Old-World peach to a peach of New
Jersey; a Democratic Platform to the Declaration of Independence; a
pinching, varnished boot to a winged sandal of Mercury; Faustina to
Charlotte Corday; a senatorial speech to a speech of Wendell
Phillips; anything crude, base, and sham to anything fine, fresh, and
true.
Ah, poor Kissingen! Alas, unfragrant Sharon! Alack, stale
Saratoga! Ichabod! Adieu to you all when the world knows the
virtues of Luggernel!
But never when the O-fartunatus-nimium world has come into
this new portion of its heritage,—never when Luggernel is renowned
and fashion blooms about its brim,—never when gentlemen of the
creamiest cream in the next half-century offer to ladies as creamy
beakers bubbling full of that hypernectareous tipple,—never will any
finer body or fairer soul of a woman be seen there about than her
whom I served that morning. And, indeed, among the heroic
gentlemen of the riper time to come, I cannot dream that any will
surpass in all the virtues and courtesies of the cavalier my friend
John Brent, now dismounted and lying there wounded and patient.
Oranges before breakfast are good. There be who on awakening
gasp for the cocktail. And others, who, fuddled last night, are limp in
their lazy beds, till soda-water lends them its fizzle. Eye-openers
these of moderate calibre. But, with all the vigorous vitality I have
claimed, perhaps I might still have remembered yesterday with its
Gallop of Three, its suspense, its eager dash and its certainty, and
remembered them with new anxieties for to-day, except for my
morning draught of exhilaration from the unbottled, unmixed
sources of Luggernel. Thanks La Grenouille, rover of the wilderness,
for thy froggish instinct and this blissful discovery!
I stooped and lapped. Long ago Gideon Barakson recognized the
thorough-going braves because they took their water by the
throatful, not by the palmful. And when I had lapped enough, and
let the great bubbles of laughing gas burst in my face, I took a
beaker,—to be sure it was battered tin, and had hung at the belt of a
dastard,—a beaker of that “cordial julep” to my friend. He was
awake and looking about him, seeking for some one.
“Come to your gruel, old fellow!” said I.
He drank the airy water and sat up revived.
“It is like swallowing the first sunbeam on the crown of a snow-
peak,” he said.
Miss Clitheroe dawned upon us with this. She came forth from her
lodge, fresh and full of cheer.
Brent stopped looking about for some one. The One had entered
upon the scene.
I dipped for her also that poetry in a tin pot.
“This,” said she, “is finer balm than the enchanted cup of Comus;
never did lips touch a draught
‘To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.’
To-day my life is worthy of this nepenthe. My dear friend, this is the
first night of peaceful, hopeful rest I have had, since my poor father
was betrayed into his delusion. Thank you and God for it!”
And again her eyes filled with happy tears, and she knelt by her
patient. While she was tenderly and deftly renewing the bandages,
Armstrong stood by, and inspected the wound in silence. Presently
he walked off and called me to help him with our camp-fire.
“Pretty well ploughed up, that arm of his’n,” said he.
“I have seen amputation performed for less.”
“Then I’m dum glad there’s no sawbones about. I don’t believe
Nater means a man’s leg or arm to go, until she breaks the solid
bone, so that it ain’t to be sot nohow. But what do you allow to do?
Lamm ahead or squat here?”
“You are the oldest; you have most experience; I will take your
advice.”
“October is sweet as the smile of a gal when she hears that her
man has made fifteen hundred dollars off the purceeds of a half-acre
of onions, to the mines; but these yer fall storms is reg’lar Injuns;
they light down ’thout sendin’ on handbills. We ought to be p’intin’
for home if we can.”
“But Brent’s wound! Can he travel?”
“Now, about that wound, there’s two ways of lookin’ at it. We ken
stop here, or we ken poot for Laramie. I allow that it oughter take
that arm of his’n a month to make itself right. Now in a month ther’ll
be p’r’aps three feet of snow whar we stand.”
“We must go on.”
“Besides, lookerhere! Accordin’ to me the feelin’s mean suthin’,
when a man’s got any. He’ll be all the time worryin’ about the gal till
he gets her to her father. It’s my judgment she’d better never see
the old man agin; but I wouldn’t want my Ellen to quit me, of I was
an unhealthy gonoph like him. Daughters ought to stick closer ’n
twitch-grass to their fathers, and sons to their mothers, and she ain’t
one to knock off lovin’ anybody she’s guv herself to love. No, she’s
one of the stiddy kind,—stiddy as the stars. He knows that, that
there pardener of yourn knows it, and his feelin’s won’t give his arm
no rest until she’s got the old man to take care of and follow off on
his next streak. So we must poot for Laramie, live or die. Thar’ll be a
doctor there. Ef we ken find the way, it shouldn’t take us more ’n ten
days. I’ll poot him on Bill’s sorrel, jest as gentle a horse as Bill was
that rode him, and we’ll see ef we hain’t worked out the bad luck
out of all of us, for one while.”
Armstrong’s opinion was only my own, expressed Oregonly. We
went on preparing breakfast.
“That there A. & A. mule,” says Armstrong, “was Bill’s and mine,
and this stuff in the packs was ours. I don’t know what the fellers
did with the two mean mustangs they was ridin’ when they found us
fust on Bear River,—used ’em up, I reckon.”
Here Brent hailed us cheerily.
“Look alive there, you two cooks! We idlers here want to be
travelling.”
“I told you so,” said Armstrong. “He understands this business
jest as well as we do. He’ll go till he draps. Thar’s grit into him, ef I
know grit.”
Yes; but when I saw him sit still with his back against the spruce-
tree, and remembered his exuberant life of other days, I desponded.
He soon took occasion to speak to me apart.
“Dick,” said he, “you see how it is. I am not good for much. If we
were alone, you and I might settle here for a month or so, and write
‘Bubbles from the Brünnen.’ But there is a lady in the case. It is plain
where she belongs. I know every inch of the way to Laramie. I can
take you through in a week”—he paused and quavered a little, as he
continued—“if I live. But don’t look so anxious. I shall.”
“It would be stupid for you to die now, John Brent the Lover, with
the obstacles cut away and an heroic basis of operations.”
“A wounded man, perhaps a dying man, has no business with
love. I will never present her my services and ask pay. But, Dick, if I
should wear out, you will know what to say to her for me.”
At this she joined us, her face so illumined with resolution and
hope that we both kindled. All doubt skulked away from her
presence. Brent was nerved to rise and walk a few steps to the
camp-fire, supported by her arm and mine.
Armstrong had breakfast ready, such as it was. And really, the
brace of wood grouse he had shot that morning, not a hundred
yards from camp, were not unworthy of a lady’s table, though they
had never made journey in a crowded box, over a slow railroad,
from Chicago to New York, in a January thaw, and then been bought
at half price of a street pedler, a few hours before they dropped to
pieces.
We grouped to depart.
“I shall remember all this for scores of sketches,” said Miss
Clitheroe.
And indeed there was material. The rocks behind threading away
and narrowing into the dim gorge of the Alley; the rushing fountains,
one with its cloud of steam; the two great spruces; the greensward;
the thickets; and above them a far-away glimpse of a world, all run
to top and flinging itself up into heaven, a tumult of crag and
pinnacle. So much for the scenery. And for personages, there was
Armstrong, with his head turbaned, saddling the white machine; the
two mules, packed and taking their last nibbles of verdure; Miss
Clitheroe, in her round hat and with a green blanket rigged as riding-
skirt, mounted upon the sturdy roan; Brent resting on my shoulder,
and stepping on my knee, as he climbed painfully to his seat on the
tall sorrel; Don Fulano waiting, proud and eager. And just as we
were starting, a stone fell from overhead into the water; and looking
up, we saw a bighorn studying us from the crags, wishing, no doubt,
that his monster horns were ears to comprehend our dialect.
I gave the party their stirrup-cup from the Champagne Spring.
The waters gurgled adieu. Rich sunrise was upon the purple gates of
the pass. We struck a trail through the thicket.
Good bye to the Luggernel Springs and Luggernel Alley! to that
scene of tragedy and tragedy escaped!
CHAPTER XXIII.
DRAPETOMANIA.
For the last hour I had ridden close to Brent. I saw that it was
almost up with him. He swayed in his saddle. His eye was glazed
and dull. But he kept his look fixed on the little group of Laramie
Barracks, and let his horse carry him.
I lifted up my heart in prayer that this noble life might not be
quenched. He must not die now that he was enlarged and sanctified
by truest love.
At last we struck open country. Bill Armstrong’s sorrel took a
cradling lope; we rode through a camp of Sioux “tepees,” like so
many great white foolscaps; we turned the angle of a great white
wooden building, and halted. I sprang from Fulano, Brent quietly
drooped down into my arms.
“Just in time,” said a cheerful, manly voice at my ear.
“I hope so,” said I. “Is it Captain Ruby?”
“Yes. We’ll take him into my bed. Dr. Pathie, here’s a patient for
you.”
We carried Brent in. As we crossed the veranda, I saw Miss
Clitheroe’s meeting with her father. He received her almost peevishly.
We laid the wounded man in Ruby’s hospital bed. Evidently a fine
fellow, Ruby; and, what was to the point, fond of John Brent.
Dr. Pathie shook his head.
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