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"That rather sounds as though the story is true, doesn't it?"
"Not necessarily. It's my idea she got from hoping to moping, so to
speak. She went in to town regular for letters for ten years, and the
postmaster says she never got any. She was hurt in front of the post
office. The talk around here is that she's been off her head for the
last year or two."
"But they found the cabin."
"Sure they did," said the conductor equably. "The cabin was no secret.
It was an old fire station before they put the new one on Goat Mountain.
I spent a month in it myself, once, with a dude who wanted to take
pictures of bear. We found a bear, but it charged the camera and I'd be
running yet if I hadn't come to civilization."
When he had gone Bassett fell into deep thought. So Maggie Donaldson
had gone to the post office for ten years. He tried to visualize those
faithful, wearisome journeys, through spring mud and winter snow, always
futile and always hopeful. He did not for a moment believe that she had
"gone off her head." She had been faithful to the end, as some women
were, and in the end, too, as had happened before, her faith had killed
her.
And again he wondered at the curious ability of some men to secure
loyalty. They might go through life, tearing down ideals and destroying
illusions to the last, but always there was some faithful hand to
rebuild, some faithful soul to worship.
He was somewhat daunted at the size and bustling activity of Norada.
Its streets were paved and well-lighted, there were a park and a public
library, and the clerk at the Commercial Hotel asked him if he wished
a private bath! But the development was helpful in one way. In the
old Norada a newcomer might have been subjected to a friendly but
inquisitive interest. In this grown-up and self-centered community a man
might come and go unnoticed.
And he had other advantages. The pack, as he cynically thought of them,
would have started at the Clark ranch and the cabin. He would get to
them, of course, but he meant to start on the outside of the circle and
work in.
"Been here long?" he asked the clerk at the desk, after a leisurely
meal.
The clerk grinned.
"I came here two years ago. I never saw Jud Clark. To get to the Clark
place take the road north out of the town and keep straight about eight
miles. The road's good now. You fellows have worn it smooth."