Old Ugly Face by Talbot Mundy

Author:Talbot Mundy
Language: eng
Format: epub

Old Ugly Face

PART THREE

41.

One week’s march north of the Shigatse, the roar of the flood-borne ice was still in Elsa’s ears whenever she thought backward. She was trying to think forward. Thought wouldn’t obey. It flowed backward most of the time, marveling at Andrew–where had he learned such super-human gift of leadership?–in a law office?–loving him, trying to understand him, baffled. The first sight of that river had seemed to set his heart on fire. He became a new-world Hannibal, a Caesar, compelling men and beasts to do what they all knew was impossible until he showed the way, and drove, and led. But he was far from pleased with himself. He had turned morose, almost speechless, kind when spoken to but doling words as if they hurt him: She didn’t know why he suffered. She suspected herself of having caused it. She didn’t know how.

By night, under the stars, she could see, and even feel the unimportance of herself and of Andrew too, and of the earth and all its ways. Then they were less than microbes in an infinite mystery. It was comforting to feel how small they were. But under the tent they grew larger again. And by day there were no stars by which to measure the absurdity of fear.

There’s an irritating magnetism in the Tibetan wind at high levels. The aneroid registered seventeen thousand feet. The Kunlun Range was in sight whenever a buzz-saw wind worried the horizon clouds sufficiently to give a glimpse of the snow-clad peaks. It was typical Tibetan spring. You couldn’t hear yourself shout. That increased the irritation. It was further increased by Bulah Singh’s hostile calm–his ominous good behavior–his glowering look of gloating over private information that would presently emerge to everyone’s discomfort but his own.

Andrew was having hard work to keep his temper with the men. Bompo Tsering resented his concern for the pack animals.

“Don’t you understand we can’t reach Tum-Glain with dead ponies?”

“Gunnigun, no beating, going too slow. By-um by coming soldiers, catching us, then–“

“See here! Next time there’s a gall or a sore or a whip mark, you lose a day’s pay. That’s final.”

Less cruelty for a while. More miles covered in consequence. But there was no change in Andrew’s mood. He continued to be too polite to Elsa–too considerate of all her possible needs except the only one that mattered. He revealed of his own inner consciousness nothing. Less than nothing. What he did apparently let slip at odd moments was merely some new phase of the veil that concealed tormented thought. The strain was made almost unbearable by their continuing to sleep together, under doubled blankets. She knew he did it to save her feelings, so that she shouldn’t feel demoted. She couldn’t refuse for fear of hurting his feelings; he might have thought she no longer trusted him. She didn’t believe he believed his own excuse that Bulah Singh might play some trick on her if she were left alone at night. Bulah Singh

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.