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Garden of Eden

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<h2>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h2> Under the arch of the entrance Connor saw a gray stallion, naked of halter or rope, with his head raised. From the shadow he came shining into the sunlight; the wind raised his mane and tail in ripples of silver. Ben Connor rose slowly from his chair. Horses were religion to him; he felt now that he had stepped into the inner shrine. When he was able to speak he turned slowly toward David. "Sir," he said hoarsely, "that is the greatest horse ever bred." It was far more than a word of praise; it was a confession of faith which surrounded the moment and the stallion with solemnity, and David flushed like a proud boy. "There he stands," he said. "Now make him come to your hand." It recalled Connor to his senses, that challenge, and feeling that his mind had been snatched away from him for a moment, almost that he had been betrayed, he looked at David with a pale face. "He is too far away," he said. "Bring him closer." There was one of those pauses which often come before crises, and Connor knew that by the outcome of this test he would be judged either a man or a cheap boaster. "I shall do this thing," said the master of the Garden of Eden. "If you bring Glani to your hand I shall give him to you to ride while you stay in the valley. Listen! No other man had so much as laid a hand on the withers of Glani, but if you can make him come to you of his own free will—" "No," said Connor calmly. "I shall make him come because my will is stronger than his." "Impossible!" burst out David. He controlled himself and looked at Connor with an almost wistful defiance. "I hold to this," he said. "If you can bring Glani to your hand, he is yours while you stay in the Garden—for my part, I shall find another mount." Connor slipped his right hand into his pocket and crushed the little root against the palm. "Come hither, Glani," commanded the master. The stallion came up behind David's chair, looking fearlessly at the stranger. "Now," said David with scorn. "This is your time." "I accept it," replied Connor. He drew his hand from his pocket, and leaning over the table, he looked straight into the eye of the stallion. But in reality, it was only to bring that right hand closer; the wind was stirring behind him, and he knew that it wafted the scent of the mysterious root straight to Glani. "That is impossible," said David, following the glance of Connor with a frown. "A horse has no reasoning brain. Silence cannot make him come to you." "However," said Connor carelessly, "I shall not speak." The master set his teeth over unuttered words, and glancing up to reassure himself, his face altered swiftly, and he whispered: "Now, you four dead masters, bear witness to this marvel! Glani feels the influence!" For the head of Glani had raised as he scented the wind. Then he circled the table and came straight toward Connor. Within a pace, the scent of strange humanity must have drowned the perfume of the root; he sprang away, catlike and snorted his suspicion. David heaved a great sigh of relief. "You fail!" he cried, and snatching up a bottle of wine, he poured out a cup. "Brave Glani! I drink this in your honor!" Every muscle in David's strong body was quivering, as though he were throwing all the effort of his will on the side of the stallion. "You think I have failed?" asked Connor softly. "Admit it," said David. His flush was gone and he was paler than Connor now; he seemed to desire with all his might that the test should end; there was a fiber of entreaty in his voice. "Admit it, Benjamin, as I admit your strange power." "I have hardly begun. Give me quiet." David flung himself into his chair, his attention jerking from Glani to Connor and back. It was at this critical moment that a faint breeze puffed across the patio, carrying the imperceptible fragrance of the root straight to Glani. Connor watched the stallion prick his ears, and he blessed the quaint old Viennese with all his heart. The first approach of Glani had been in the nature of a feint, but now that he was sure, he went with all the directness of unspoiled courage straight to the stranger. He lowered the beautiful head and thrust out his nose until it touched the hand of Connor. The gambler saw David shudder. "You have conquered," he said, forcing out the words. "Take Glani; to me he is now a small thing. He is yours while you stay in the Garden. Afterward I shall give him to one of my servants." Connor stood up, and though at his rising Glani started back, he came to Connor again, following that elusive scent. To David it seemed the last struggle of the horse before completely submitting to the rule of a new master. He rose in turn, trembling with shame and anger, while Connor stood still, for about this stranger drifted a perfume of broad green fields with flowering tufts of grass, the heads well-seeded and sweet. And when a hand touched his withers, the stallion merely turned his head and nuzzled the shoulder of Connor inquisitively. With his hand on the back of the horse, the gambler realized for the first time Glani's full stature. He stood at least fifteen-three, though his perfect proportions made him seem smaller at a distance. No doubt he was a giant among the Eden Grays, Connor thought to himself. The gallop on Abra the night before had been a great moment, but a ride on Glani was a prospect that took his breath. He paused. Perhaps it was the influence of a forgotten Puritan ancestor, casting a shade on every hope of happiness. With his weight poised for the leap to the back of the stallion, Connor looked at David. The master was in a silent agony, and the hand of Connor fell away from the horse. He was afraid. "I can't do it," he said frankly. "Jump on his back," urged David bitterly. "He's no more to you than a yearling to the hands of Abraham." Connor realized now how far he had gone; he set about retracing the wrong steps. "It may appear that way, but I can't trust myself on his back. You understand?" He stepped back with a gesture that sent Glani bounding away. "You see," went on Connor, "I never could really understand him." The master seized with eagerness upon this gratifying suggestion. "It is true," he said, "that you are a little afraid of Glani. That is why none of the rest can handle him." He stopped in the midst of his self-congratulation and directed at Connor one of those glances which the gambler could never learn to meet. "Also," said David, "you make me happy. If you had sat on his back I should have felt your weight on my own shoulders and spirit." He laid a hand on Connor's shoulder, but the gambler had won and lost too often with an impenetrable face to quail now. He even managed to smile. "Hearken," said David. "My masters taught me many things, and everything they taught me must be true, for they were only voices of a mind out of another world. Yet, in spite of them," he went on kindly, "I begin to feel a kinship with you, Benjamin. Come, we will walk and talk together in the cool of the morning. Glani!" The gray had wandered off to nibble at the turf; he whirled and came like a thrown lance. "Glani," said David, "is usually the only living thing that walks with me in the morning; but now, my friend, we are three." <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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