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diff --git a/old/10372.txt b/old/10372.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8eb0d7f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10372.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11968 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bunch Grass, by Horace Annesley Vachell + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bunch Grass + A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch + +Author: Horace Annesley Vachell + +Release Date: December 3, 2003 [EBook #10372] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUNCH GRASS *** + + + + +Produced by Larry Mittell and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +BUNCH GRASS + +A CHRONICLE OF LIFE ON A CATTLE RANCH + + +BY HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL + +AUTHOR OF "BROTHERS" "THE HILL" ETC. ETC. + +1913 + + + + +TO MY BROTHER + +ARTHUR HONYWOOD VACHELL + +I DEDICATE + +THIS BOOK + + + + +FOREWORD + +The author of _Bunch Grass_ ventures to hope that this book will +not be altogether regarded as mere flotsam and jetsam of English and +American magazines. The stories, it will be found, have a certain +continuity, and may challenge interest as apart from incident because +an attempt has been made to reproduce atmosphere, the atmosphere of a +country that has changed almost beyond recognition in three decades. +The author went to a wild California cow-country just thirty years +ago, and remained there seventeen years, during which period the land +from such pastoral uses as cattle and sheep-raising became subdivided +into innumerable small holdings. He beheld a new country in the +making, and the passing of the pioneer who settled vital differences +with a pistol. During those years some noted outlaws ranged at large +in the county here spoken of as San Lorenzo. The Dalton gang of train +robbers lived and died (some with their boots on) not far from the +village entitled Paradise. Stage coaches were robbed frequently. Every +large rancher suffered much at the hands of cattle and horse thieves. +The writer has talked to Frank James, the most famous of Western +desperados; he has enjoyed the acquaintance of Judge Lynch, who hanged +two men from a bridge within half-a-mile of the ranch-house; he +remembers the Chinese Riots; he has witnessed many a fight between the +hungry squatter and the old settler with no title to the leagues over +which his herds roamed, and so, in a modest way, he may claim to be a +historian, not forgetting that the original signification of the word +was a narrator of fables founded upon facts. + +Apologies are tendered for the dialect to be found in these pages. +There is no Californian dialect. At the time of the discovery of gold, +the state was flooded with men from all parts of the world, and +dialects became inextricably mixed. Not even Bret Harte was able to +reproduce the talk of children whose fathers may have come from +Kentucky or Massachusetts, and their mothers from Louisiana. + +Re-reading these chapters, with a more or less critical detachment, +and leaving them--good, bad and indifferent--as they were originally +printed, one is forced to the conclusion that sentiment--which would +seem to arouse what is most hostile in the cultivated dweller in +cities--is an all-pervading essence in primitive communities, +colouring and discolouring every phase of life and thought. One +instance among a thousand will suffice. Stage coaches, in the writer's +county, used to be held up, single-handed, by a highwayman, known as +Black Bart. All the foothill folk pleaded in extenuation of the robber +that he wrote a copy of verses, embalming his adventure, which he used +to pin to the nearest tree. Black Bart would have been shot on sight +had he presented his doggerel to any self-respecting Western editor; +nevertheless the sentiment that inspired a bandit to set forth his +misdeeds in execrable rhyme transformed him from a criminal into a +popular hero! The virtues that counted in the foothills during the +eighties were generosity, courage, and that amazing power of +recuperation which enables a man to begin life again and again, +undaunted by the bludgeonings of misfortune. Some of the stories in +this volume are obviously the work of an apprentice, but they have +been included because, however faulty in technique, they do serve to +illustrate a past that can never come back, and men and women who were +outwardly crude and illiterate but at core kind and chivalrous, and +nearly always humorously unconventional. The bunch grass, so beloved +by the patriarchal pioneers, has been ploughed up and destroyed; the +unwritten law of Judge Lynch will soon become an oral tradition; but +the Land of Yesterday blooms afresh as the Golden State of To-day--and +Tomorrow. + + +* * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAP. + +I. ALETHEA-BELLE + +II. THE DUMBLES + +III. PAP SPOONER + +IV. GLORIANA + +V. BUMBLEPUPPY + +VI. JASPERSON'S BEST GIRL + +VII. FIFTEEN FAT STEERS + +VIII. AN EXPERIMENT + +IX. UNCLE JAP'S LILY + +X. WILKINS AND HIS DINAH + +XI. A POISONED SPRING + +XII. THE BABE + +XIII. THE BARON + +XIV. JIM'S PUP + +XV. MARY + +XVI. OLD MAN BOBO'S MANDY + +XVII. MINTIE + +XVIII. ONE WHO DIED + +XIX. A RAGAMUFFIN OF THE FOOTHILLS + +XX. DENNIS + +* * * * * + + + + +I + +ALETHEA-BELLE + + +In the early eighties, when my brother Ajax and I were raising cattle +in the foothills of Southern California, our ranch-house was used as a +stopping-place by the teamsters hauling freight across the Coast +Range; and after the boom began, while the village of Paradise was +evolving itself out of rough timber, we were obliged to furnish all +comers with board and lodging. Hardly a day passed without some +"prairie schooner" (the canvas-covered wagon of the squatter) creaking +into our corral; and the quiet gulches and canons where Ajax and I had +shot quail and deer began to re-echo to the shouts of the children of +the rough folk from the mid-West and Missouri. These "Pikers," so +called, settled thickly upon the sage-brush hills to the south and +east of us, and took up all the land they could claim from the +Government. Before spring was over, we were asked to lend an old +_adobe_ building to the village fathers, to be used as a +schoolhouse, until the schoolhouse proper was built. At that time a +New England family of the name of Spafford was working for us. Mrs. +Spafford, having two children of her own, tried to enlist our +sympathies. + +"I'm kinder sick," she told us, "of cookin' an' teachin'; an' the hot +weather's comin' on, too. You'd oughter let 'em hev that old +_adobe_." + +"But who will teach the children?" we asked. + +"We've fixed that," said Mrs. Spafford. "'Tain't everyone as'd want to +come into this wilderness, but my auntie's cousin, Alethea-Belle +Buchanan, is willin' to take the job." + +"Is she able?" we asked doubtfully. + +"She's her father's daughter," Mrs. Spafford replied. "Abram Buchanan +was as fine an' brave a man as ever preached the Gospel. An' clever, +too. My sakes, he never done but one foolish thing, and that was when +he merried his wife." + +"Tell us about her," said that inveterate gossip, Ajax. + +Mrs. Spafford sniffed. + +"I seen her once--that was once too much fer me. One o' them +lackadaisical, wear-a-wrapper-in-the-mornin', soft, pulpy Southerners. +Pretty--yes, in a spindlin', pink an' white soon-washed-out pattern, +but without backbone. I've no patience with sech." + +"Her daughter won't be able to halter-break these wild colts." + +"Didn't I say that Alethea-Belle took after her father? She must hev +consid'able snap an' nerve, fer she's put in the last year, sence +Abram died, sellin' books in this State." + +"A book agent?" + +"Yes, sir, a book agent." + +If Mrs. Spafford had said road agent, which means highwayman in +California, we could not have been more surprised. A successful book +agent must have the hide of a rhinoceros, the guile of a serpent, the +obstinacy of a mule, and the persuasive notes of a nightingale. + +"If Miss Buchanan has been a book agent, she'll do," said Ajax. + +* * * * * + +She arrived at Paradise on the ramshackle old stage-coach late one +Saturday afternoon. Ajax and I carried her small hair-trunk into the +ranch-house; Mrs. Spafford received her. We retreated to the corrals. + +"She'll never, never do," said Ajax. + +"Never," said I. + +Alethea-Belle Buchanan looked about eighteen; and her face was white +as the dust that lay thick upon her grey linen cloak. Under the cloak +we had caught a glimpse of a thin, slab-chested figure. She wore +thread gloves, and said "I thank you" in a prim, New England accent. + +"Depend upon it, she's had pie for breakfast ever since she was born," +said Ajax, "and it's not agreed with her. She'll keep a foothill +school in order just about two minutes--and no longer!" + +At supper, however, she surprised us. She was very plain-featured, but +the men--the rough teamsters, for instance--could not keep their eyes +off her. She was the most amazing mixture of boldness and timidity I +had ever met. We were about to plump ourselves down at table, for +instance, when Miss Buchanan, folding her hands and raising her eyes, +said grace; but to our first questions she replied, blushing, in timid +monosyllables. + +After supper, Mrs. Spafford and she washed up. Later, they brought +their sewing into the sitting-room. While we were trying to thaw the +little schoolmarm's shyness, a mouse ran across the floor. In an +instant Miss Buchanan was on her chair. The mouse ran round the room +and vanished; the girl who had been sent to Paradise to keep in order +the turbulent children of the foothills stepped down from her chair. + +"I'm scared to death of mice," she confessed. My brother Ajax scowled. + +"Fancy sending that whey-faced little coward--here!" he whispered to +me. + +"Have you taught school before?" I asked. + +"Oh yes, indeed," she answered; "and I know something of your foothill +folks. I've been a book agent. Oh, indeed? You know that. Well, I did +first-rate, but that was the book, which sold itself--a beautiful +book. Maybe you know it--_The Milk of Human Kindness_? When we're +better acquainted, I'd like to read you," she looked hard at Ajax, +"some o' my favourite passages." + +"Thanks," said Ajax stiffly. + +Next day was Sunday. At breakfast the schoolmarm asked Ajax if there +was likely to be a prayer-meeting. + +"A prayer-meeting, Miss Buchanan?" + +"It's the Sabbath, you know." + +"Yes--er--so it is. Well, you see," he smiled feebly, "the cathedral +isn't built yet." + +"Why, what's the matter with the schoolhouse? I presume you're all +church-members?" + +Her grey eyes examined each of us in turn, and each made confession. +One of the teamsters was a Baptist; another a Latter-Day Adventist; +the Spaffords were Presbyterians; we, of course, belonged to the +Church of England. + +"We ought to have a prayer-meeting," said the little schoolmarm. + +"Yes; we did oughter," assented Mrs. Spafford. + +"I kin pray first-rate when I git started," said the Baptist teamster. + +The prayer-meeting took place. Afterwards Ajax said to me-- + +"She's very small, is Whey-face, but somehow she seemed to fill the +_adobe_." + +In the afternoon we had an adventure which gave us further insight +into the character and temperament of the new schoolmarm. + +We all walked to Paradise across the home pasture, for Miss Buchanan +was anxious to inspect the site--there was nothing else then--of the +proposed schoolhouse. Her childlike simplicity and assurance in taking +for granted that she would eventually occupy that unbuilt academy +struck us as pathetic. + +"I give her one week," said Ajax, "not a day more." + +Coming back we called a halt under some willows near the creek. The +shade invited us to sit down. + +"Are there snakes--rattlesnakes?" Miss Buchanan asked nervously. + +"In the brush-hills--yes; here--no," replied my brother. + +By a singular coincidence, the words were hardly out of his mouth when +we heard the familiar warning, the whirring, never-to-be-forgotten +sound of the beast known to the Indians as "death in the grass." + +"Mercy!" exclaimed the schoolmarm, staring wildly about her. It is not +easy to localise the exact position of a coiled rattlesnake by the +sound of his rattle. + +"Don't move!" said Ajax. "Ah, I see him! There he is! I must find a +stick." + +The snake was coiled some half-dozen yards from us. Upon the top coil +was poised his hideous head; above it vibrated the bony, fleshless +vertebrae of the tail. The little schoolmarm stared at the beast, +fascinated by fear and horror. Ajax cut a switch from a willow; then +he advanced. + +"Oh!" entreated Miss Buchanan, "please don't go so near." + +"There's no danger," said Ajax. "I've never been able to understand +why rattlers inspire such terror. They can't strike except at objects +within half their length, and one little tap, as you will see, breaks +their backbone. Now watch! I'm going to provoke this chap to strike; +and then I shall kill him." + +He held the end of the stick about eighteen inches from the glaring, +lidless eyes. With incredible speed the poised head shot forth. Ajax +laughed. The snake was recoiling, as he struck it on the neck. +Instantly it writhed impotently. My brother set the heel of his heavy +boot upon the skull, crushing it into the ground. + +"Now let's sit down," said he. + +"Hark!" said the little schoolmarm. + +Another snake was rattling within a yard or two of the first. + +"It's the mate," said I. "At this time of year they run in pairs. We +ought to have thought of that." + +"I'll have him in a jiffy," said my brother. + +As he spoke I happened to be watching the schoolmarm. Her face was +painfully white, but her eyes were shining, and her lips set above a +small, resolute chin. + +"Let me kill him," she said, in a low voice. + +"You, Miss Buchanan?" + +"Yes." + +"It's easy enough, but one mustn't--er--miss." + +"I shan't miss." + +She took the willow stick from my brother's hand. Every movement of +his she reproduced exactly, even to the setting of her heel upon the +serpent's head. Then she smiled at us apologetically. + +"I hated to do it. I was scared to death, but I wanted to conquer that +cowardly Belle. It's just as you say, they're killed mighty easy. If +we could kill the Old Serpent as easy----" she sighed, not finishing +the sentence. + +Ajax, who has a trick of saying what others think, blurted out-- + +"What do you mean by conquering--Belle?" + +We sat down. + +"My name is Alethea-Belle, a double name. Father wanted to call me +Alethea; but mother fancied Belle. Father, you know, was a +Massachusetts minister; mother came from way down south. She died when +I was a child. She--she was not very strong, poor mother, but father," +she spoke proudly, "father was the best man that ever lived." + +All her self-consciousness had vanished. Somehow we felt that the +daughter of the New England parson was speaking, not the child of the +invertebrate Southerner. + +"I had to take to selling books," she continued, speaking more to +herself than to us, "because of Belle. That miserable girl got into +debt. Father left her a little money. Belle squandered it sinfully on +clothes and pleasure. She'd a rose silk dress----" + +"A rose silk dress?" repeated Ajax. + +"It was just too lovely--that dress," said the little schoolmarm, +reflectively. + +"Even Alethea could not resist it," said I. + +She blushed, and her shyness, her awkwardness, returned. + +"Alethea had to pay for it," she replied primly. "I ask your pardon +for speaking so foolishly and improperly of--myself." + +After this, behind her back, Ajax and I invariably called her Alethea- +Belle. + +* * * * * + +School began at nine sharp the next morning. We expected a large +attendance, and were not disappointed. Some of the boys grinned +broadly when Alethea-Belle appeared carrying books and maps. She +looked absurdly small, very nervous, and painfully frail. The fathers +present exchanged significant glances; the mothers sniffed. Alethea- +Belle entered the names of her scholars in a neat ledger, and shook +hands with each. Then she made a short speech. + +"Friends," she said, "I'm glad to make your acquaintance. I shall +expect my big boys and girls to set an example to the little ones by +being punctual, clean, and obedient. We will now begin our exercises +with prayer and a hymn. After that the parents will please retire." + +That evening Alethea-Belle went early to bed with a raging headache. +Next morning she appeared whiter than ever, but her eyelids were red. +However, she seemed self-possessed and even cheerful. Riding together +across the range, Ajax said to me: "Alethea-Belle is scared out of her +life." + +"You mean Belle. Alethea is as brave as her father was before her." + +"You're right. Poor little Belle! Perhaps we'd better find some job or +other round the _adobe_ this afternoon. There'll be ructions." + +But the ructions did not take place that day. It seems that Alethea- +Belle told her scholars she was suffering severely from headache. She +begged them politely to be as quiet as possible. Perhaps amazement +constrained obedience. + +"These foothill imps will kill her," said Ajax. + +Within a week we knew that the big boys were becoming unmanageable, +but no such information leaked from Alethea-Belle's lips. Each evening +at supper we asked how she had fared during the day. Always she +replied primly: "I thank you; I'm getting along nicely, better than I +expected." + +Mrs. Spafford, a peeper through doors and keyholes, explained the +schoolmarm's methods. + +"I jest happened to be passin' by," she told me, "and I peeked in +through--through the winder. That great big hoodlum of a George Spragg +was a-sassin' Miss Buchanan an' makin' faces at her. The crowd was a- +whoopin' him up. In the middle o' the uproar she kneels down. 'O +Lord,' says she, 'I pray Thee to soften the heart of pore George +Spragg, and give me, a weak woman, the strength to prevail against his +everlastin' ignorance and foolishness!' George got the colour of a +beet, but he quit his foolin'. Yes sir, she prays for 'em, and she +coaxes 'em, an' she never knows when she's beat; but they'll be too +much for her. She's losin' her appetite, an' she don't sleep good. We +won't be boardin' her much longer." + +But that night, as usual, when I asked Alethea-Belle how she did, she +replied, in her prim, formal accents: "I'm doing real well, I thank +you; much, much better than I expected." + +Two days later I detected a bruise upon her forehead. With great +difficulty I extracted the truth. Tom Eubanks had thrown an apple at +the schoolmarm. + +"And what did you do?" + +Her grey eyes were unruffled, her delicately cut lips never smiled, as +she replied austerely: "I told Thomas that I was sure he meant well, +but that if a boy wished to give an apple to a lady he'd ought to hand +it politely, and not throw it. Then I ate the apple. It was a Newtown +pippin, and real good. After recess Thomas apologised." + +"What did the brute say?" + +"He is not a brute. He said he was sorry he'd thrown the pippin so +hard." + +Next day I happened to meet Tom Eubanks. He had a basket of Newtown +pippins for the schoolmarm. He was very red when he told me that Miss +Buchanan liked--apples. Apples at that time did not grow in the brush- +hills. Tom had bought them at the village store. + +* * * * * + +But Alethea-Belle grew thinner and whiter. + +Just before the end of the term the climax came. I happened to find +the little schoolmarm crying bitterly in a clump of sage-brush near +the water-troughs. + +"It's like this," she confessed presently: "I can't rid myself of that +weak, hateful Belle. She's going to lie down soon, and let the boys +trample on her; then she'll have to quit. And Alethea sees the +Promised Land. Oh, oh! I do despise the worst half of myself!" + +"The sooner you leave these young devils the better." + +"What do you say?" + +She confronted me with flashing eyes. I swear that she looked +beautiful. The angularities, the lack of colour, the thin chest, the +stooping back were effaced. I could not see them, because--well, +because I was looking through them, far beyond them, at something +else. + +"I love my boys, my foothill boys; and if they are rough, brutal at +times, they're strong." Her emphasis on the word was pathetic. +"They're strong, and they're young, and they're poised for flight-- +now. To me, me, has been given the opportunity to direct that flight-- +upward, and if I fail them, if I quit----" She trembled violently. + +"You won't quit," said I, with conviction. + +"To-morrow," said she, "they've fixed things for a real battle." + +She refused obstinately to tell me more, and obtained a solemn promise +from me that I would not interfere. + +* * * * * + +Afterwards I got most of the facts out of George Spragg. Three of the +biggest boys had planned rank mutiny. Doubtless they resented a +compulsory attendance at school, and with short-sighted policy made +certain that if they got rid of Alethea-Belle the schoolhouse would be +closed for ever. And what chance could she have--one frail girl +against three burly young giants? + +A full attendance warned her that her scholars expected something +interesting to happen. Boys and girls filed into the schoolroom +quietly enough, and the proceedings opened with prayer, but not the +usual prayer. Alethea-Belle prayed fervently that right might prevail +against might, now, and for ever. Amen. + +Within a minute the three mutineers had marched into the middle of the +room. In loud, ear-piercing notes they began to sing "Pull for the +Shore." The girls giggled nervously; the boys grinned; several opened +their mouths to sing, but closed them again as Alethea-Belle descended +from the rostrum and approached the rebels. The smallest child knew +that a fight to a finish had begun. + +The schoolmarm raised her thin hand and her thin voice. No attention +was paid to either. Then she walked swiftly to the door and locked it. +The old _adobe_ had been built at a time when Indian raids were +common in Southern California. The door was of oak, very massive; the +windows, narrow openings in the thick walls, were heavily barred. The +children wondered what was about to happen. The three rebels sang with +a louder, more defiant note as Alethea-Belle walked past them and on +to the rostrum. Upon her desk stood a covered basket. Taking this in +her hand, she came back to the middle of the room. The boys eyed her +movements curiously. She carried, besides the basket, a cane. Then she +bent down and placed the basket between herself and the boys. They +still sang "Pull for the Shore," but faintly, feebly. They stared hard +at the basket and the cane. Alethea-Belle stood back, with a curious +expression upon her white face; very swiftly she flicked open the lid +of the basket. Silence fell on the scholars. + +Out of the basket, quite slowly and stealthily, came the head of a +snake, a snake well known to the smallest child--known and dreaded. +The flat head, the lidless, baleful eyes, the grey-green, diamond- +barred skin of the neck were unmistakable. + +"It's a rattler!" shrieked one of the rebels. + +They sprang back; the other children rose, panic-stricken. The +schoolmarm spoke very quietly-- + +"Don't move! The snake will not hurt any of you." + +As she spoke she flicked again the lid of the basket. It fell on the +head of the serpent. Alethea-Belle touched the horror, which withdrew. +Then she picked up the basket, secured the lid, and spoke to the +huddled-up, terrified crowd-- + +"You tried to scare me, didn't you, and I have scared you." She +laughed pleasantly, but with a faint inflection of derision, as if she +knew, as she did, that the uncivilised children of the foothills, like +their fathers, fear nothing on earth so much as rattlers and-- +ridicule. After a moment she continued: "I brought this here to-day as +an object-lesson. You loathe and fear the serpent in this basket, as I +loathe and fear the serpent which is in you." She caught the eyes of +the mutineers and held them. "And," her eyes shone, "I believe that I +have been sent to kill the evil in you, as I am going to kill this +venomous beast. Stand back!" + +They shrank back against the walls, open-eyed, open-mouthed, +trembling. Alethea-Belle unfastened for the second time the lid of the +basket; once more the flat head protruded, hissing. Alethea-Belle +struck sharply. + +"It is harmless now," she said quietly; "its back is broken." + +But the snake still writhed. Alethea-Belle shuddered; then she set her +heel firmly upon the head. + +"And now"--her voice was weak and quavering, but a note of triumph, of +mastery, informed it--"and now I am going to cane you three boys; I am +going to try to break your stubborn wills; but you are big and strong, +and you must let me do it. If you don't let me do it, you will break +my heart, for if I am too weak to command here, I must resign. Oh, I +wish that I were strong!" + +The mutineers stared at each other, at the small white face +confronting them, at the boys and girls about them. It was a great +moment in their lives, an imperishable experience. The biggest spoke +first, sheepishly, roughly, almost defiantly-- + +"Come on up, boys; we'll hev to take a lickin' this time." + +Alethea-Belle went back to the rostrum, trembling. She had never caned +a boy before, and she loathed violence. And yet she gave those three +lads a sound thrashing. When the last stroke was given, she tottered +and fell back upon her chair--senseless. + +* * * * * + +Later, I asked her how she had caught the snake. + +"After you left me," she said, "I sat down to think. I knew that the +boys wanted to scare me, and it struck me what a splendid thing +'twould be to scare them. Just then I saw the snake asleep on the +rocks; and I remembered what one o' the cowboys had said about their +being stupid and sluggish at this time o' year. But my! when it came +to catching it alive--I--nearly had a fit, I'd chills and fever before +I was able to brace up. Well, sir, I got me a long stick, and I fixed +a noose at the end of it; and somehow--with the Lord's help--I got the +creature into my work-basket; and I carried it home, and put it under +my bed, with a big stone atop o' the lid. But I never slept a wink. +I'm teetotal, but I know now what it is to have the--the--" + +"Jim-jams," said I. + +"I believe that's what they call it in California. Yes, I saw snakes, +rattlers, everywhere!" + +"You're the pluckiest little woman in the world," said I. + +"Oh no! I'm a miserable coward, and always will be. Now it's over I +kind of wish I hadn't scared the little children quite so bad." + +About a month later, when Alethea-Belle was leaving us and about to +take up new quarters in Paradise, near the just finished village +schoolhouse, Mrs. Spafford came to me. The schoolmarm, it seemed, had +stepped off our scales. She had gained nearly ten pounds since the day +of the great victory. + +"Your good cooking, Mrs. Spafford--" Mrs. Spafford smiled scornfully. + +"Did my good cooking help her any afore she whacked them boys? Not +much. No, sir, her scholars hev put the flesh on to her pore bones; +and I give them the credit. They air tryin' to pay for what their +schoolmarm's put into their heads and hearts." + +"Miss Buchanan has taught us a thing or two," I suggested. + +"Yes," Mrs. Spafford replied solemnly, "she hev." + + + + +II + +THE DUMBLES + + +Looking back, I am quite sure that John Jacob Dumble's chief claim to +the confidence of our community--a confidence invariably abused--was +the fact that the rascal's family were such "nice folks," "so well- +raised," so clean, so respectable, such constant and punctual "church- +members." After the Presbyterian Church was built in Paradise, no more +edifying spectacle could be seen than the arrival on Sunday mornings +of the Dumble family in their roomy spring wagon. The old man--he was +not more than fifty-five--had two pretty daughters and a handsome son. +Mrs. Dumble, a comely woman, always wore grey clothes and grey thread +gloves. She had a pale, too impassive face, and her dark hair, tightly +drawn back from her brows, had curious white streaks in it. Ajax said +a thousand times that he should not sleep soundly until he had +determined whether or not Mrs. Dumble was a party to her husband's +misdemeanours. My brother's imagination, as I have said before, runs +riot at times. He was of opinion that the wearing of grey indicated a +character originally white, but discoloured by her husband's dirty +little tricks. Certainly Mrs. Dumble was a woman of silence, +secretive, with lips tightly compressed, as if--as Ajax remarked--she +feared that some of John Jacob's peccadilloes might escape from them. + +The father was inordinately proud of his son, Quincey, who in many +respects took after the mother. He, too, was quiet, self-possessed, +and somewhat pale. He worked for us and other cattlemen, not for his +father, and after the lad left school Ajax fell to speculating about +him, as he speculated about the mother. + +"Is Quincey on to the old man's games?" he would ask. + +It must be recorded that John Jacob was very careful to keep within +the limits of the law, but he ploughed close to the line, where the +soil, as we all know, is richest and, comparatively speaking, virgin. +But no man in the county was louder than he in denouncing such crimes +as horse-stealing or cattle-lifting, crimes in those days +disgracefully common. He might ear-mark a wandering piglet, for +instance, or clap his iron upon an unbranded yearling; but who could +swear that these estrays were not the lawful property of him upon +whose land they were found? + +At that time Ajax and I were breeding Cleveland Bays, and amongst our +colts we had two very promising animals likely to make a match team, +and already prize-winners at the annual county fair. One day in +October, Uncle Jake, our head vaquero, reported the colts to be +missing out of our back pasture. Careful examination revealed the +cutting of the fence. Obviously the colts had been stolen. + +Ajax suggested that we should employ old man Dumble to help us to +recover the stolen property. He was shrewd and persevering, and he +knew every man, woman, and child within a radius of fifty miles. + +"Why, boys," said he, when we asked him to undertake the job, "I'd do +more than this to help friends and neighbours. It's a dooty to hunt +down these scallywags, a dooty, yas--and a pleasure." + +We took the trail that night. The thief, so far as we could +conjecture, had about twenty hours start, but then he would be obliged +to travel by night and by devious mountain-paths. According to old +Dumble, his objective would be Bakersfield, and to reach Bakersfield +some dry plains must be traversed. At the watering-places upon these +plains we might expect to hear from sheep-herders and vaqueros some +information respecting animals so handsome and so peculiarly marked as +our colts. + +And so it proved. At a dismal saloon, where water was nearly as +expensive and quite as bad as the whisky, we learned that a bright bay +colt with a white star and stocking, and another with a white nose, +had been seen early that morning. Old man Dumble gleaned more. + +"We're dealing with a tenderfoot and a stranger to the saloon-keeper," +he said, as we struck into the sage-brush wilderness. "The fool didn't +know enough to spend a few dollars at the bar. He called for one +lemonade." + +"Well," said Ajax, "you are teetotal yourself; you ought to respect a +man who calls for lemonade." + +"I ain't a thief," said our neighbour. "If I was," he added, "I reckon +I'd cover my tracks around saloons with a leetle whisky. Boys, there's +another thing. This feller we're after is ridin' too fast. Them colts +won't stand it. Young things must feed an' rest. The saloon-keeper +allowed they were footsore a'ready, and kinder petered out. We must +keep our eyes skinned." + +"You're a wonder," said Ajax. "How you divined that the thief would +travel this trail beats me." + +"Wal," said old man Dumble, "it's this way. There's a big dealer comes +three times a year to Bakersfield; he pays good money for good stuff-- +an' he asks no questions. I happened to hear he was a-comin' down only +las' Sunday." + +Something in his voice, some sly gleam in his eye, aroused my +suspicions. As soon as we happened to be alone, I whispered to my +brother: "I say, what if the old man is playing hare and hound with +us?" + +"Pooh!" said Ajax. "He's keen as mustard to collar this thief--the +keener, possibly, since he discovered that the fellow is a tenderfoot. +I've sized him up about right. He wants to establish a record. It's +like this teetotal business of his. The people here refuse to believe +evil of a man who drinks water, goes to church, and catches horse- +thieves. I'll add one word more. To give the old fraud his due, he +really holds in abhorrence any crime that might land him in the State +penitentiary. Hullo! There's a faint reek out yonder. I'll take a +squint through my glasses." + +We called a halt. We were now on the alkaline plains beyond the San +Emigdio mountains. Riding all through the night, we had changed horses +at a ranch where we were known. Ajax stared through his binoculars. + +"What we're after," said he quietly, "is in sight." + +He handed his glasses to me. I could barely make out a horseman, +herding along two animals. The plains were blazing with heat. In the +distance a soft blue haze obscured the horizon; faintly outlined +against this were three spirals of what seemed to be white smoke: +three moving pillars of alkaline dust. + +"He can't git away from us," said old man Dumble. + +Looking at him, my suspicions took flight. He was, as Ajax said, +keener than we to arrest the thief. His small eyes sparkled with +excitement; his right index-finger was crooked, as if itching for the +trigger; his lips moved. In fancy he was rehearsing the "Stand and +deliver" of an officer of the law! + +"We kin ride him down," he muttered. + +"Yes," said Ajax. + +We looked to our girths and our pistols. It was unlikely that the +thief would show fight, but--he might. Then we mounted, and galloped +ahead. + +"Forrard--for-r-rard!" shouted Ajax. + +Within a few minutes, a quarter of an hour at most, the man we were +hunting would see us; then the chase would really begin. He would +abandon the footsore colts, and make for the hills. And so it came to +pass. Presently, we saw the horseman turn off at right angles; the +jaded colts hesitated, trotted a few yards, and stood still. A faint +neigh floated down wind. + +"Doggone it!" exclaimed old man Dumble, "his horse is fresh. He's got +friends in the hills." + +We had left the trail, and were pounding over the sage-brush desert. I +could smell the sage, strongly pungent, and the alkaline dust began to +irritate my throat; the sun, if one stood still, was strong enough to +blister the skin of the hands. + +For three-quarters of an hour it seemed to me that the distance +between us and our quarry remained constant; but Dumble said we were +falling behind. The thief was lighter than any of us, and his horse +was evidently a stayer. The hills rose out of the haze, bleak and +bare, seamed with gulches, a safe sanctuary for all wild things. + +"If the cuss was within range, I'd try a shot," said the old man. + +"I'd like to make out who he is," said Ajax. + +Suddenly the horse of the thief fell. We discovered later that the +beast had plunged into a piece of ground honeycombed with squirrel- +holes. The man staggered to his feet; the horse struggled where he +fell, but did not rise. His shoulder was broken. + +"We have him!" yelled Dumble. + +"Yes; we have him," repeated my brother. "Suppose we take a look at +him?" + +The thief had abandoned all idea of escape. He stood beside his horse, +waiting for us; but at the distance we could not determine whether he +intended to surrender quietly or to fight. Ajax adjusted his glasses, +and glanced through them. Then, with an exclamation, he handed them to +me. + +"Kin ye make him out, boys?" asked our neighbour. + +"Yes," said I, giving back the glasses to Ajax. He handed them in +silence to old man Dumble. Then, instinctively, both our right hands +went to our belts. We were not quite sure what a father might do. + +He did what should have been expected--and avoided. He dropped the +binoculars. Then he turned to us, trembling, livid--a scarecrow of the +man we knew; + +"It's my boy," he said hoarsely. "And I thought he was the best boy in +the county. Oh God!" + +A minute may have passed, not more. One guesses that in that brief +time the unhappy father saw clearly the inevitable consequences of his +own roguery and sharp practice. He had sowed, broadcast, innumerable, +nameless little frauds; he reaped a big crime. I looked across those +dreary alkaline plains and out of the lovely blue haze beyond I seemed +to see the Dumbles' spring wagon rolling to church. Mrs. Dumble's +pale, impassive face was turned to the bleak plains. At last I read +her aright, that quiet woman of silence. She knew the father of her +children from the outer rind to the inmost core. I thought of the +pretty daughters, who did not know. And out yonder stood the son. + +Ajax beckoned me aside. We whispered together for a moment or two. +Then my brother spoke-- + +"We're going to lead home our colts," he said curtly; "and you can +lead home yours. We shall take better care of ours after this +experience. They won't be allowed to run wild in the back pasture." + +"Boys--Quincey an' me----" + +"Shush-h-h!" said Ajax. "That fellow out there is a long way off. I +could not swear in a court of law that he is the person we take him to +be. Whom he looks like we know, who he is we don't know, and we don't +wish to know. So long." + +We rode back to our colts. + + + + +III + +PAP SPOONER + + +Pap Spooner was about sixty-five years old, and the greatest miser in +San Lorenzo County. He lived on less than a dollar a day, and allowed +the rest of his income to accumulate at the rate of one per cent, a +month, compound interest. + +When Ajax and I first made his acquaintance he was digging post-holes. +The day, a day in September, was uncommonly hot. I said, indiscreetly: +"Mr. Spooner, why do you dig post-holes?" + +With a queer glint in his small, dull grey eyes he replied, curtly: +"Why are you boys a-shootin' quail--hey? 'Cause ye like to, I reckon. +Fer the same reason I like ter dig post-holes. It's jest recreation-- +to me." + +When we were out of earshot Ajax laughed. + +"Recreation!" said my brother. "Nothing will ever recreate him. Of all +the pinchers----" + +"Shush-h-h!" said I. "It's too hot." + +Our neighbours told many stories of Pap Spooner. Even that bland old +fraud, John Jacob Dumble, admitted sorrowfully that he was no match +for Pap in a horse, cattle, or pig deal; and George Leadham, the +blacksmith, swore that Pap would steal milk from a blind kitten. The +humorists of the village were of opinion that Heaven had helped Pap +because he had helped himself so freely out of other folks' piles. + +In appearance Andrew Spooner was small, thin, and wiry, with the beak +of a turkey-buzzard, the complexion of an Indian, and a set of large, +white, very ill-fitting false teeth, which clicked like castanets +whenever the old man was excited. + +Now, in California, "Pap" is a _nom de caresse_ for father. But, +so far as we knew, Pap had no children; accordingly we jumped to the +conclusion that Andrew Spooner got his nickname from a community who +had rechristened the tallest man in our village "Shorty" and the +ugliest "Beaut." The humorists knew that Pap might have been the +father of the foothills, the George Washington of Paradise, but he +wasn't. + +Later we learned that Pap had buried a wife and child. And the child, +it seems, had called him "Pap." We made the inevitable deduction that +such paternal instincts as may have bloomed long ago in the miser's +heart were laid in a small grave in the San Lorenzo Cemetery. Our +little school-marm, Alethea-Belle Buchanan, said (without any reason): +"I reckon Mr. Spooner must have thought the world of his little one." +Whereupon Ajax replied gruffly that as much could be said, doubtless, +of a--vulture. + +The word "vulture" happened to be pat, apart from the shape of Andrew +Spooner's nose, because we were in the middle of the terrible spring +which succeeded the dry year. Even now one does not care to talk about +that time of drought. During the previous twelve months the relentless +sun had destroyed nearly every living thing, vegetable and animal, in +our county. Then, in the late fall and early winter, we had sufficient +rain to start the feed on our ranges and hope in our hearts. But +throughout February and March not a drop of water fell! Hills and +plains lay beneath bright blue skies, into which we gazed day after +day, week after week, looking for the cloud that never came. The thin +blades of wheat and barley were already frizzling; the tender leaves +of the orchards and vineyards turned a sickly yellow; the few cattle +and horses which had survived began to fall down and die by the empty +creeks and springs. And two dry years in succession meant black ruin +for all of us. + +For all of us in the foothills except Pap Spooner. By some mysterious +instinct he had divined and made preparations for a long drought. +Being rich, with land in other counties, he was able to move his stock +to green pastures. We knew that he was storing up the money sucked by +the sun out of us. He was foreclosing mortgages, buying half-starved +horses and steers for a song, selling hay and straw at fabulous +prices. And we were reeling upon the ragged edge of bankruptcy! He, +the beast of prey, the vulture, was gorging on our carrion. + +Men--gaunt, hollow-eyed men--looked at him as if he were an obscene +bird, looked at him with ever-increasing hate, with their fingers +itching for the trigger of a gun. Pap had his weakness. He liked to +babble of his own cuteness; he liked to sit upon a sugar barrel in the +village store and talk of savoury viands, so to speak, and sparkling +wines in the presence of fellow-citizens who lacked bread and water, +particularly water. + +One day, in late March, he came into the store as the sun was setting. +In such a village as ours, at such a time, the store becomes the club +of the community. Misery, who loves company, spent many hours at the +store. There was nothing to do on the range. + +Upon this particular afternoon we had listened to a new tale of +disaster. Till now, although most of us had lost stock, and many had +lost land as well, we had regarded health, the rude health of man +living the primal life, as an inalienable possession. Our cattle and +horses were dying, but we lived. We learned that diphtheria had +entered Paradise. + +In those early days, before the antitoxin treatment of the disease, +diphtheria in Southern California was the deadliest of plagues. It +attacked children for the most part, and swept them away in +battalions. I have seen whole families exterminated. + +And nothing, then as now, prevails against this scourge save prompt +and sustained medical treatment. In Paradise we had neither doctor, +nor nurse, nor drugs. San Lorenzo, the nearest town, lay twenty-six +miles away. + +Pap shambled in, clicking his teeth and grinning. + +"Nice evenin'," he observed, taking his seat on his sugar barrel. + +"Puffec'ly lovely," replied the man who had brought the evil news. +"Everything," he stretched out his lean hand,--"everything smilin' an' +gay--an' merry as a marriage bell." + +Pap rubbed his talon-like hands together. + +"Boys," said he, "I done first-rate this afternoon--I done first- +rate. I've made money, a wad of it--and don't you forget it." + +"You never allow us to forget it," said Ajax. "We all wish you would," +he added pointedly. + +"Eh?" + +He stared at my brother. The other men in the store showed their teeth +in a sort of pitiful, snarling grin. Each was sensible of a secret +pleasure that somebody else had dared to bell the cat. + +My brother continued, curtly: "This is not the time nor the place for +you to buck about what you've done and whom you've done. Under the +present circumstances--you're an old man--what you've left undone +ought to be engrossing your attention." + +"Meanin'?" + +Pap had glanced furtively from face to face, reading in each rough +countenance derision and contempt. The masks which the poor wear in +the presence of the rich were off. + +"I mean," Ajax replied, savagely--so savagely that the old man +recoiled and nearly fell off the barrel--"I mean, Mr. Spooner, that +the diphtheria has come to Paradise, and is likely to stay here so +long as there is flesh for it to feed on." + +"The diptheery?" exclaimed Pap. + +Into his eyes--those dull grey eyes--flitted terror and horror. But +Ajax saw nothing but what had festered so long in his own mind. + +"Aye--the diphtheria! You are rich, Mr. Spooner; you can follow your +cattle into a healthier country than this. My advice to you is--Get!" + +The old man stared; then he slid off the barrel and shambled out of +the store as little Sissy Leadham entered it. The child looked +curiously at Andrew Spooner. + +"What's the matter with Pap?" she asked, shrilly. + +She was a pretty, tow-headed, rosy-cheeked creature, the daughter of +George Leadham, a widower, who adored her. He was looking at her now +with a strange light in his eyes. Not a man in the store but +interpreted aright the father's glance. + +"What's the matter with pore old Pap?" she demanded. + +The blacksmith caught her up, kissing her face, smoothing her curls. + +"Just that, my pet," said he. "He's old, and he's poor--the poorest +man, ain't he, boys?--the very poorest man in Paradise." + +The child looked puzzled. It would have taken a wiser head than hers +to understand the minds of the men about her. + +"I thought old Pap was rich," she faltered. + +"He ain't," said the blacksmith, hugging her tight. "He's poorer than +all of us poor folks put together." + +"Oh, my!" said Sissy, opening her blue eyes. "No wonder he looks as if +someone'd hit him with a fence rail. Pore old Pap!" Then she whispered +some message, and father and child went out of the store. + +We looked at each other. The storekeeper, who had children, blew his +nose with unnecessary violence. Ajax said, abruptly: "Boys, I've been +a fool. I've driven away the one man who might help us." + +"That's all right," the storekeeper growled. "You done first-rate, +young man. You tole the ole cuss in plain words what we've bin a- +thinkin' fer a coon's age. Help us? Not he!" + +Outside, our saddle-horses were hitched to the rail. We had managed to +save our horses. Ajax and I rode down the valley, golden with the +glory of the setting sun. Beyond, the bleak, brown hills were clothed +in an imperial livery of purple. The sky was amber and rose. But Ajax, +like Gallio, cared for none of these things. He was cursing his unruly +tongue. As we neared the big, empty barn, he turned in his saddle. + +"Look here," said he, "we'll nip up to Pap's after supper. I shall ask +him to help us. I shall ask for a cheque." + +"You expect me to go with you on this tomfool's errand?" + +"Certainly. We must use a little tact. I'll beg his pardon--the doing +of it will make me sick--you shall ask for the cheque. Yes, we're +fools; otherwise we shouldn't be here in this forsaken wilderness." + +* * * * * + +Pap lived just outside the village in an _adobe_ built upon a +small hill to the north-west of our ranch. No garden surrounded it, no +pleasant live oaks spread their shade between the porch and the big +barns. Pap could sit on his porch and survey his domain stretching for +leagues in front of him, but he never did sit down in the daytime-- +except on a saddle--and at night he went to bed early to save the +expense of oil. Knowing his habits, we rode up to the _adobe_ +about eight. All was dark, and we could see, just below us, the +twinkling lights of Paradise. After thundering at the door twice, Pap +appeared, carrying a lantern. In answer to his first question, we told +him that we had business to discuss. Muttering to himself, he led us +into the house and lighted two candles in the parlour. We had never +entered the parlour before, and accordingly looked about with interest +and curiosity. The furniture, which had belonged to Pap's father-in- +law, a Spanish-Californian, was of mahogany and horsehair, very good +and substantial. In a bookcase were some ancient tomes bound in musty +leather. A strange-looking piano, with a high back, covered with faded +rose-coloured silk, stood in a corner. Some half a dozen +daguerreotypes, a case of stuffed humming-birds, and a wreath of +flowers embellished the walls. Upon everything lay the fine white dust +of the dry year, which lay also thick upon many hearts. + +"Sit ye down," said Pap. "I reckon ye've come up to ask for a loan?" + +"Yes," said Ajax. "But first I wish to beg your pardon. I had no right +to speak as I did in the store this evening. I'm sorry." + +Pap nodded indifferently. + +"'Twas good advice," he muttered. "I ain't skeered o' much, but +diptheery gives me cold feet. I calc'late to skin out o' this and into +the mountains to-morrer. How about this yere loan?" + +"It's not for us," said I. + +"I don't lend no good dollars on squatters' claims," said Pap. "Let's +git to business." + +We explained what we wanted. Upon the top of Pap's head the sparse +grey hairs bristled ominously. His teeth clicked; his eyes snapped. He +was furiously angry--as I had expected him to be. + +"You've a nerve," he jerked out. "You boys come up here askin' me fer +a thousand dollars. What air you goin' to do?" + +"We've no money," said Ajax, "but we've leisure. I dare say we may dig +graves." + +"You're two crazy fools." + +"We know that, Mr. Spooner." + +"I'm a-goin' to tell ye something. Diptheery in this yere country is +worse'n small-pox--and I've seen both." The look of horror came again +into his face. "My wife an' my child died o' diptheery nearly thirty- +five year ago." He shuddered. Then he pointed a trembling finger at +one of the daguerreotypes. "There she is--a beauty! And before she +died--oh, Heaven!" I thought I saw something in his eyes, something +human. Ajax burst out---- + +"Mr. Spooner, because of that, won't you help these poor people?" + +"No! When she died, when the child died, something died in me. D'ye +think I don't know what ye all think? Don't I know that I'm the +ornariest, meanest old skinflint atween Point Sal and San Diego? +That's me, and I'm proud of it. I aim to let the hull world stew in +its own juice. The folks in these yere foothills need thinnin' anyway. +Halloa! What in thunder's this?" Through the door, which we had left +ajar, very timidly, all blushes and dimples, and sucking one small +thumb, came Sissy Leadham. She stood staring at us, standing on one +leg and scratching herself nervously with the other. + +"Why, Sissy?" said Ajax. + +She removed her thumb, reluctantly. + +"Yas--it's me," she confessed. "Popsy don't know as I've comed up +here." Then, suddenly remembering the conventions, she said, politely, +"Good-evening, Mr. Spooner." + +"Good-evening," said the astonished Pap. + +"You wasn't expectin' me?" + +"I didn't think it was very likely as you'd call in," said Pap, +"seein', Missy, as you'd never called in afore." + +"My name's Sissy, not Missy. Well, I'll call again, Mr. Spooner, when +you've no comp'ny." + +"Jee-roosalem! Call again--will ye? An' s'pose I ain't to home--hey? +No, Missy--wal, Sissy, then--no, Sissy, you speak out an' tell me what +brought you a-visitin'--me?" + +She shuffled very uneasily. + +"I felt so awful sorry for you, Mr. Spooner. I jest hed to come, but +I'll call again, early to-morrer." + +"No, ye won't. Because I aim ter leave this yere ranch afore sun-up. +Jest you speak up an' out. If yer folks has sent you here"--his eyes +hardened and flashed--"to borrer money, why, you kin tell 'em I ain't +got none to loan." + +Sissy laughed gaily. + +"Why, I know that, Mr. Spooner. It's jest because, be-cause yer so +pore--so very, very pore, that I comed up." + +"Is that so? Because I'm so very poor?" + +"I heard that in the store this evenin'. I was a-comin' in as you was +a-comin' out. I heard Popsy say you was the porest man in the county, +porer than all of us pore folks put together." + +She had lost her nervousness. She stood squarely before the old man, +lifting her tender blue eyes to his. + +"Wal--an' what are you a-goin' to do about it?" + +"I can't do overly much, Mr. Spooner, but fer a little girl I'm rich. +The dry year ain't hurt me any--yet. I've three dollars and sixty +cents of my own." + +One hand had remained tightly clenched. Sissy opened it. In the moist +pink palm lay three dollars, a fifty-cent piece, and a dime. Never had +Pap's voice sounded so harsh in my ears as when he said: "Do I +understan' that ye offer this to--me?" + +His tone frightened her. + +"Yas, sir. Won't you p-p-please t-take it?" + +"Did yer folks tell ye to give me this money?" + +"Why, no. I'd oughter hev asked 'em, I s'pose, but I never thought o' +that. Honest Injun, Mr. Spooner, I didn't--and--and it's my own +money," she concluded, half defiantly, "an' Popsy said as how I could +do what I liked with it. Please take it." + +"No," said Pap. + +He stared at us, clicking his teeth and frowning. Then he said, +curtly, "Wal, I'll take the dime, Sissy--I kin make a dime go farther +than a dollar, can't I, boys?" + +"You bet," said Ajax. + +"And now, Sissy, you run along home," said Pap. + +"We'll take her," I said, for Sissy was a sworn friend of ours. At +once she put her left hand into mine. We bade the old man good-night, +and took leave of him. On the threshold Ajax turned and asked a +question---- + +"Won't you reconsider your decision, Mr. Spooner?" + +"No," he snapped, "I won't. I dunno as all this ain't a reg'lar plant. +Looks like it. And, as I say, the scallywags in these yere foothills +need thinnin'--they need thinnin'." + +Ajax said something in a low voice which Sissy and I could not hear. +Later I asked him what it was, because Pap had clicked his teeth. + +"I told him," said my brother, "that he needn't think his call was +coming, because I was quite certain that they did not want him either +in Heaven--or in the other place." + +"Oh," said I, "I thought that you were going to use a little tact with +Pap Spooner." + +* * * * * + +Next morning, early, we had a meeting in the store. A young doctor, a +capital fellow, had come out from San Lorenzo with the intention of +camping with us till the disease was wiped out; but he shook his head +very solemnly when someone suggested that the first case, carefully +isolated, might prove the last. + +There were two fresh cases that night! + +I shall not attempt to describe the horrors that filled the next three +weeks. But, not for the first time, I was struck by the heroism and +self-sacrifice of these rude foothill folk, whose great qualities +shine brightest in the dark hours of adversity. My brother and I had +passed through the big boom, when our part of California had become of +a sudden a Tom Tiddler's ground, where the youngest and simplest could +pick up gold and silver. We had seen our county drunk with prosperity +--drunk and disorderly. And we had seen also these same revellers +chastened by low prices, dry seasons, and commercial stagnation. But +we had yet to witness the crowning sobering effect of a raging +pestilence. + +The little schoolmarm, Alethea-Belle Buchanan, organised the women +into a staff of nurses. Mrs. Dumble enrolled herself amongst the band. +Did she take comfort in the thought that she was wiping out John Jacob +Dumble's innumerable rogueries? Let us hope so. + +Within a week yellow bunting waved from half a score of cottages in +and about Paradise. And then, one heavenly morning, as we were riding +into the village, we saw the hideous warning fluttering outside George +Leadham's door. + +Sissy was down with it! + +Poor George, his brown, weather-beaten face seamed with misery, met us +at the garden gate. + +"She's awful bad," he muttered, "an' the doc. says she'll be worse +afore she's better." + +Next door a man was digging two graves in his garden. + +Meantime, Pap Spooner had disappeared. We heard that he had gone to a +mountain ranch of his about fifteen miles away. Nobody missed him; +nobody cared whether he went or stayed. In the village store it was +conceded that Pap's room, rain or shine, was better than his company. +His name was never mentioned till it began to fall from Sissy +Leadham's delirious lips. + +The schoolmarm first told me that the child was asking for Andrew +Spooner, moaning, wailing, shrieking for "pore old Pap." George +Leadham was distracted. + +"What in thunder she wants that ole cuss fer I can't find out. She's +drivin' me plum crazy." I explained. + +"That's it," said George. "It's bin Pap an' her money night an' day +fer forty-eight hours. She wanted ter give him--him, by Jing!--her +money." + +The doctor heard the story half an hour later. He had not the honour +of Andrew Spooner's acquaintance, and he had reason to believe that +all men in the foothills were devoid of fear. + +"Fetch Pap," said he, in the same tone as he might have said, "Fetch +milk and water!" We made no remark. + +"I think," said the doctor, gravely, "that if this man comes at once +the child may pull through." + +"By Heaven! he shall come," said George Leadham to me. The doctor had +hurried away. + +"He won't come," said Ajax. + +"If he don't," said the father, fiercely, "the turkey-buzzards'll hev +a meal, for I'll shoot him in his tracks." + +Ajax looked at me reflectively. + +"George," said he, "shooting Pap wouldn't help little Sissy, would it? +You and I can't handle this job. My brother will go. But--but, my poor +old George, don't make ropes out of sand." + +So I went. + +When I started, the south-east wind, the rain-wind, had begun to blow, +and it sounds incredible, but I was not aware of it. The pestilence +had paralysed one's normal faculties. But riding due south-east I +became, sooner or later, sensible of the change in the atmosphere. And +then I remembered a chance remark of the doctor's. "We shall have this +diphtheria with us till the rain washes it away," and one of the +squatters had replied, bitterly, "Paradise'll be a cemetery an' +nothin' else before the rain comes." + +Passing through some pine woods I heard the soughing of the tree-tops. +They were entreating the rain to come--to come quickly. How well I +knew that soft, sibilant invocation! Higher up the few tufts of bunch +grass that remained rustled in anticipation. On the top of the +mountain, in ordinary years a sure sign of a coming storm, floated a +veil of opaline sea mist ... + +I found Pap and a greaser skinning a dead heifer. Pap nodded sulkily, +thinking of his hay and his beans and bacon. + +"What's up?" he growled. + +"It's going to rain," said I. + +"Ye ain't ridden from Paradise to tell me that. An' rain's not a- +comin', either. 'Twould be a miracle if it did. How's folks? I heard +as things couldn't be worse." + +"They are bad," said I. "Eubank's sister-in-law and two children are +dead. Judge Spragg has lost four. In all about sixteen children have +gone and five adults. That's Paradise alone; in the foothills----" + +"What brings you here?" + +It seemed hopeless to soften this hardened old man. I had thought of a +dozen phrases wherewith to soap the ways, so to speak, down which +might be launched my petition. I forgot them all, confronted by those +malicious, sneering eyes, by the derisive, snarling grin. + +"Little Sissy Leadham is dying." + +"What d'you say?" + +"Little Sissy Leadham is dying." + +For my life I could not determine whether the news moved him or not. + +"Wal?" + +"And she's asking for you." + +"Askin'--fer me?" + +At last I had gripped his attention and interest. + +"Why?" + +"She wants to give you her money." + +"Then it wa'n't a plant? 'Twa'n't fixed up atween you boys an' her?" + +"It was her own idea--an idea so strong that it has taken possession +of her poor wandering wits altogether." + +"Is that so?" He moistened his lips. "And you--ye've come up here to +ask me to go down there, into that p'isonous Paradise, because a +little girl who ain't nothin' to me wants to give me three dollars and +a half?" + +"If you get there in time it may save her life." + +"An' s'pose I lose mine--hey?" + +I shrugged my shoulders. He stared at me as if I were a strange +animal, clicking his teeth and twisting his fingers. + +"Look ye here," he burst out, angrily, with a curious note of surprise +and petulance in his voice, "you an' that brother o' yours know me, +old Pap Spooner, purty doggoned well. Hev ye heard anyone ever speak a +good word fer me?" + +"No one except--the schoolmarm." + +"An' what did she say?" + +"She reckoned you must have thought the world of your own little +girl." + +He paid no attention. Suddenly he said, irrelevantly-- + +"That dime little Sissy give me is the first gift I've had made me in +thirty-five year. Wal, young man, ye must ha' known--didn't ye now?-- +that you was takin' big chances in comin' after ole Pap Spooner. I'll +bet the hull crowd down in Paradise laughed at the idee o' fetchin' +me--hey?" + +"Nobody laughs in Paradise now, and nobody except my brother, the +doctor, and Sissy's father knows that I've come after you." + +"Ye'll ride back and say the old man was skeered--hey?" + +"Well, you are, aren't you?" + +"Yes; I've enough sense to know when I am skeered. I'm skeered plum to +death, but all the same I'm a-goin' back with you, because Sissy give +me that dime. There's a sack o' crushed barley behind that shed. Give +yer plug a half feed, an' by then I'll be ready." + +We rode into Paradise as night was closing in. The south-east wind was +still blowing, and the thin veil of mist upon the mountain had grown +into a cloud. In front of George Leadham's house were a couple of +eucalyptus trees. Their long, lanceolate leaves were shaking as Pap +and I passed through the gate. A man's shadow darkened the small +porch. To the right was the room where Sissy lay. A light still shone +in the window. The shadow moved; it was the doctor. He hurried +forward. + +"Glad to make your acquaintance," said he to Pap, whom he had never +seen before. + +"Air ye? You wa'n't expectin' me, surely?" + +"Certainly," replied the doctor, impatiently. "What man wouldn't come +under such circumstances?" + +"Is there much danger?" said Pap, anxiously. + +"The child is as ill as she can be." + +"I meant fer--me." + +"Great Scot! If you feel like that you'd better not go in." His tone +was dully contemptuous. + +"Wal--I do feel like that, on'y more so; an' I'm goin' in all the +same. Reckon I'm braver'n you, 'cause you ain't skeered." + +We entered the room. George Leadham was sitting by the bed. When he +saw us he bent over the flushed face on the pillow, and said, slowly +and distinctly: "Here's Mr. Spooner, my pretty; he's come. Do you +hear?" + +She heard perfectly. In a thick, choked voice she said: "Is that you, +Pap?" + +"It's me," he replied; "it's me, sure enough." + +"Why, so'tis. Popsy, where's my money?" + +"Here, Sissy, right here." + +She extended a thin, wasted hand. + +"I want you to have it, Pap," she said, speaking very slowly, but in a +clearer tone. "You see, it's like this. I've got the diptheery, an' +I'm a-goin' to die. I don't need the money--see! And you do, you pore +old Pap, so you must take it." + +Pap took the money in silence. George Leadham had turned aside, unable +to speak. I stood behind the door, out of sight. Sissy stared +anxiously at Pap. + +"Popsy said you wouldn't come, but I knew you would," she sighed. +"Good-bye, you pore old Pap." She closed her eyes, but she held Pap's +hand. The young doctor came forward with his finger upon his lips. +Quietly, he signed to Pap to leave the room; the old man shook his +head. The doctor beckoned the father and me out on to the porch. + +"Miracles sometimes happen," said he, gravely. "The child has fallen +into a natural sleep." + +But not for three hours did her grip relax of Pap's hand, and he sat +beside her patiently, refusing to budge. Who shall say what was +passing in his mind, so long absorbed in itself, and now, if one could +judge by his face, absorbed at last in this child? + +When he came out of the room he spoke to the doctor in a new voice. + +"If she wants anything--anything, you understan'--you get it--see?" + +"Certainly." + +"And look ye here; I shall be stayin' at my old _adobe_, but if +the others want fer anything, you understan', get it--see?" + +"Certainly, Mr. Spooner. I shall not fail to call on you, sir, because +we want many things." + +"That's all right; but," his tone grew hard and sharp, "if--if she-- +dies, this contrack is broke. The rest kin die too; the sooner the +better." + +"But she won't die, Mr. Spooner," said the young doctor, cheerfully. +"I feel in my bones, sir, that Sissy Leadham won't die." + +And it may be added here that she didn't. + +* * * * * + +At the ranch-house that night Ajax and I sat up, watching, waiting, +praying for the rain that would wash the diphtheria from Paradise and +despair from our hearts. The south-east wind sang louder and louder in +the cotton woods by the creek; the parched live oaks crackled with +fear that the gathering clouds should roll by, the willows shivered +and bowed themselves low in supplication. From the parched earth and +every living thing thereon went up the passionate cry for water. + +One by one we saw the stars fade out of the sky. The Dipper +disappeared; then the Pole Star was extinguished. Orion veiled his +triple splendours. The Milky Way ceased to be.... + +"It's coming," whispered Ajax. + +Suddenly the wind died down; the trees became mute; only the frogs +croaked a final Hallelujah Chorus, because they alone knew. And then, +out of the heaven which had seemed to have forsaken us, coming slowly +at first, as if with the timid, halting step of a stranger; coming +quickly and gladly afterwards, as an old friend comes back to the +place where he is sure of a welcome; and lastly, with a sound of ten +thousand pattering feet, with a whirring of innumerable wings, with a +roar of triumph and ecstasy, Prosperity poured down upon Paradise. + + + + +IV + +GLORIANA + + +For three weeks we had advertised for a cook--in vain! And ranch life, +in consequence, began to lose colour and coherence. Even the animals +suffered: the dogs, the chickens, and in particular the tame piglet, +who hung disconsolate about the kitchen door watching, and perchance +praying, for the hired girl that was not. + +"This," said Ajax, "spells demoralisation." + +He alluded to the plates which lay face downward upon the dining-room +table. We had agreed to wash up every other meal, saving time at the +expense of decency. One plate did double duty, for we used the top for +breakfast and the bottom for dinner. Before supper we scrubbed it +thoroughly and began again. + +"And this bread of yours," I retorted warmly--the plate labour-saving +scheme was a happy thought of my own--"spells dyspepsia." + +"True," he admitted forlornly. "I can make, but not bake bread. In a +domestic crisis like this many things must be left underdone. We must +find a cook. I propose that we ride to the village, and rope some aged +virgin." + +We discussed the propriety of such a raid with spirit. I contended +that we might have reason to regret, at the end of another rope, so +high-handed a proceeding. + +"You are right," said Ajax. "That is the worst of this confounded +ranch. Here, we enjoy neither the amenities of civilisation nor the +freedom of the desert. However, it's always darkest before dawn, and +I've a feeling in my bones that the present state of affairs cannot +last. Something will turn up." + +That afternoon Gloriana turned up. + +We were sitting upon the verandah oppressed with the weight of beans, +bacon, and soggy biscuit. As we smoked in silence our eyes rested +gloomily upon the landscape--our domain. Before us lay an amber- +coloured, sun-scorched plain; beyond were the foot-hills, bristling +with chaparral, scrub-oaks, pines and cedars; beyond these again rose +the grey peaks of the Santa Lucia range, pricking the eastern horizon. +Over all hung the palpitating skies, eternally and exasperatingly +blue, a-quiver with light and heat. + +"Somebody's coming," said Ajax. + +The country road, white with alkaline dust, crossed the ranch at right +angles. Far away, to the left, was a faint blur upon the pink hills. + +"It's no wagon," said Ajax idly, "and a _vaquero_ would never +ride in the dust. It must be a buggy." + +Five minutes later we could distinguish a quaint figure sitting +upright in an ancient buckboard whose wheels wobbled and creaked with +almost human infirmity. A mule furnished the motive power. + +"Is it a man or a woman?" said Ajax. + +"Possibly," I replied, "a cook." + +"She is about to pay us a visit. Yes, it's a woman, a bundle of bones, +dust and alpaca crowned with a sombrero. A book-agent, I swear. Go and +tell her we have never learned to read." + +I demurred. Finally we spun a dollar to decide upon which of us lay +the brutal duty of turning away the stranger within our gates. Fortune +frowned on me, and I rose reluctantly from my chair. + +"Air you the hired man?" said the woman in the buggy, as I looked +askance into her face. + +"I work here," I replied, "for my board--which is not of the best." + +"Ye seem kinder thin. Say--air the lords to home?" + +"The lords?" + +"Yes, the lords. They tole me back ther," she jerked her head in the +direction of the village, "that two English lords owned a big cattle- +ranch right here; an' I thought, mebbee, that they'd like ter see-- +me." + +A pathetic accent of doubt quavered upon the personal pronoun. + +"Ye kin tell 'em," she continued, "that I'm here. Yes, sir, I'm a +book-agent, an' my book will interest them--sure." + +Her eyes, soft blue eyes, bespoke hope; her lips quivered with tell- +tale anxiety. Something inharmonious about the little woman, a queer +lack of adjustment between voice and mouth, struck me as singular, but +not unpleasing. + +"It's called," she pleaded, in the tenderest tones, "_A Golden Word +from Mother_. I sell it bound in cloth, sheep, or moroccy. It's +perfectly lovely--in moroccy." + +"One of the--er--lords," said I gravely, "is here. I'll call him. I +think he can read." + +This, according to our fraternal code, was rank treachery, yet I felt +no traitor. Ajax obeyed my summons, and, sauntering across the sun- +baked yard, lifted his hat to the visitor. She bowed politely, and +blinked, with short-sighted eyes, at my brother's overalls and +tattered canvas shirt. I have seen Ajax, in Piccadilly, glorious in a +frock-coat and varnished boots. I have seen him, as Gloriana saw him +for the first time, in rags that might provoke the scorn of Lazarus. +With the thermometer at a hundred in the shade, custom curtseys to +convenience. Ajax boasted with reason that the loosening of a single +safety-pin left him in condition for a plunge into the pool at the +foot of the corral. + +"I hope you're well, lord," said the little woman; "an' if ye ain't, +why--what I've got here'll do ye more good than a doctor. I reckon ye +hev a mother, an' naterally she thinks the world of ye. Well, sir, I +bring ye a golden word from her very lips. Jest listen to this. I +ain't much on the elocute, but I'm goin' ter do my best." + +We listened patiently as she declaimed half a page of wretched prose. +Her voice rose and fell in a sing-song cadence, but certain +modulations of tone lent charm to the absurd words. When she finished +her eyes were full of tears. + +"That is very nice indeed," said Ajax softly. "I should like to buy +your book." + +Her hands trembled. + +"I sell it in cloth at--one dollar; in sheep at--one, six bits; in +reel moroccy, with gold toolin' at--two an' a half." + +"We must certainly secure a copy in gold and morocco." + +Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. + +"Two copies," I suggested rashly: "one for you, Ajax; one for me." + +"Ye kin take yer copy in cloth," said the little woman, +compassionately, "sein' as ye're only workin' for yer board." + +"In gold and morocco," I replied firmly. "The hand that rocks the +cradle is the hand that rules the world. A golden word from mother +cannot be fittingly bound in fustian." + +"Ye must hev had awful nice mothers, both of ye," she said simply. "Do +I sell many books? No, sir. Farmer-folks in Californy ain't got the +money ter spend in readin' matter. They're in big luck these times if +they kin pay the interest on their mortgages. With wheat at eighty +cents a cental, an' barley not wuth the haulin', it seems most an +impertinence to ask grangers ter buy books." + +"Do you make twenty dollars a month at the business?" + +She shook her head sorrowfully. + +"This is September," said Ajax, "and within six weeks the rains will +begin. What will you do then?" + +She regarded him wistfully, but made no reply. + +"Your mule," continued Ajax, "is about played out--poor beast. Will +you stay here this winter, and keep house for us? I daresay you cook +very nicely; and next spring, if you feel like it, you can start out +bookselling again." + +"My cookin' is sech as white folks kin eat, but----" + +"We will pay you twenty dollars a month." + +"The wages air more'n enough, but----" + +"And the work will be light." + +"I ain't scar't o' work," she retorted valiantly, "but----" + +"It's settled, then," said Ajax, in his masterful way. "If you'll get +down, I'll unhitch the mule and put him in the barn. My brother will +show you the house." + +She descended, protesting, but we could not catch the words that fell +from her lips. + +"You must tell us your name," said Ajax + +"It's Gloriana," she faltered. + +"Gloriana? Gloriana--what?" + +"Jes--Gloriana." + +* * * * * + +"She is a type," said Ajax, a few days later. + +"A type of what?" + +"Of the women who suffer and are not strong There are many such in +this Western country. I'd like to hear her story. Is she married or +single? old or young? crazy or sane?" + +"Gloriana," I answered, "satisfies our appetites but not our +curiosity." + +As time passed, her reticence upon all personal matters became +exasperating. At the end of the first month she demanded and received +her salary. Moreover, refusing our escort, she tramped three dusty +miles to the village post-office, and returned penniless but jubilant. +At supper Ajax said--"It's more blessed to give than to receive--eh, +Gloriana?" + +She compressed her lips, but her eyes were sparkling. After supper +Ajax commented upon her improved appearance in her presence. He +confessed himself at a loss to account for this singular +rejuvenescence. + +Expecting company, Gloriana?" + +"Mebbee-an' mebbee not." + +"You brought home a large parcel," said Ajax. "A precious parcel. Why, +you held it as a woman holds her first baby." + +She smiled, and bade us good-night. + +"I've no call ter stan' aroun' gassin'," she assured us. "I've work +ter do--a plenty of it, too." + +During the month of October she spent all her leisure hours locked up +in her own room; and, waiting upon us at meals, quoted freely that +famous book--_A Golden Word from Mother_. We often heard her +singing softly to herself, keeping time to the click of her needle. +When pay-day came she demanded leave of absence. The village, she told +us, was sadly behind the times, and with our permission she proposed +to drive her mule and buckboard to the county seat--San Lorenzo. + +"I've business of importance," she said proudly, "ter transack." + +She returned the following evening with a larger parcel than the +first. + +"I've bought a bonnet," she confessed shyly, "an' trimmins." + +We prevailed upon her to show us these purchases: white satin ribbon, +jet, and a feather that might have graced the hat of the Master of +Ravenswood. The "locating" of this splendid plume was no easy task. + +"Maxims," sighed Gloriana, "is mostly rubbish. Now, fine feathers--an' +ther ain't a finer feather than this in San Lorenzy county--don't make +fine birds. A sparrer is always a sparrer, an' can't look like an +ostridge noway. But, good land! feathers is my weakness." + +She burned much oil that night, and on the morrow the phoenix that +sprang from the flames was proudly displayed. + +"I bought more'n a bonnet yesterday," she said, with her head on one +side, and a slyly complacent smile upon her lips. "Yes, sir, stuff ter +make a dress--a party dress, the finest kind o' goods." + +Ajax stared helplessly at me. The mystery that encompassed this woman +was positively indecent. + +"An' shoes," she concluded. "I bought me a pair, hand sewn, with +French tips--very dressy." + +Later, inspired by tobacco, we agreed that the problem was solved. Our +head _vaquero_, Uncle Jake, gaunt as a coyote at Christmas, and +quite as hungry, had fallen a victim to Gloriana's flesh-pots. He +lived in an old _adobe_ near the big corral, boarded himself and +a couple of Mexicans upon _tortillas_, _frijoles_ and bacon, +and was famous throughout the countryside as a confirmed bachelor and +woman hater. We entertained a high regard for this veteran, because he +seldom got drunk, and always drove cattle _slowly_. To him the +sly Gloriana served Anglo-Saxon viands: pies, "jell'" (compounded +according to a famous Wisconsin recipe), and hot biscuit, light as the +laughter of children! What misogynist can withstand such arts? I +remembered that at the fall calf-branding Uncle Jake had expressed his +approval of our _cordon bleu_ in no measured terms. + +"You've noted," he said, "that a greaser jest naterally hates ter +handle mares. He rides a horse, an' he's right. The best o' mares will +kick. Now, Glory Anne can't help bein' a woman, but I swear she's bin +mighty well broke. She works right up into the collar--quiet an' +steady, an' keeps her tongue, whar it belongs, shet up in her mouth. +I've seen a sight o' wimmen I thot less of than Glory Anne." + +I repeated these words to Ajax. He admitted their significance, in +connection with bonnets and furbelows, and we both went to bed with a +sound of marriage-bells in our ears. We slept soundly, convinced that +neither Gloriana nor Uncle Jake would leave our service, and at +breakfast the next morning discoursed at length upon the subject of +wedding presents. + +"What would you suggest, Gloriana," said Ajax, "as suitable for a +middle-aged bridegroom?" + +She considered the question thoughtfully, a delightful smile upon her +lips. + +"Ther's nothin' more interestin' than marryin', excep' mebbee the +courtin'," she replied softly, "an' a gift is, so ter speak, a message +o' love an' tenderness from one human heart t' another. With poor +folks, who ain't experts in the use o' words, a gift means more 'n +tongue kin tell. I'm sot myself on makin' things. Every stitch I put +into a piece o' fancy work fer--a friend makes me feel the happier. +Sech sewin' is a reel labour o' love, an' I kinder hate ter hurry over +it, because, as I was sayin', it means so much that I'd like ter say, +but bein' ignorant don't know how. A present fer a middle-aged +bridegroom? Well, now, if 'twas me, I'd make him a nice comfortable +bed-spread, with the best an' prettiest o' stitchin." + +We both laughed. Uncle Jake under a gorgeous counterpane would make a +graven image smile. Gloriana laughed with us. + +"It'd be most too dainty fer some," she said, with a surprising sense +of humour, "but I was thinkin' ye wanted a gift fer one o' yer high- +toned relations in the old country. No? Well, take yer time: a gift +ain't lightly chosen." + +"I shall tackle Uncle Jake," said Ajax, as he rode over the ranch. +"Gloriana is too discreet, but she bought that bonnet for her own +wedding." + +Uncle Jake, however, was cunning of fence. + +"I don't feel lonesome," he declared. "Ye see I'm a cattle man, an' I +like the travelled trails. I ain't huntin' no quicksands. Many a +feller has mired down tryin' a new crossin'. No, sir, I calkilate ter +remain single." + +"He's very foxy," commented Ajax, "but he means business. It really +bothers me that they won't confide in us." + +The November rains were unusually heavy that year, and confined us to +the house. Gloriana had borrowed a sewing-machine from a neighbour, +and worked harder than ever, inflaming her eyes and our curiosity. We +speculated daily upon her past, present and future, having little else +to distract us in a life that was duller than a Chinese comedy. We +waxed fat in idleness, but the cook grew lean. + +"You're are losing flesh, Gloriana," said I, noting her sunken cheeks +and glittering eyes. + +"In a good cause," she replied fervently. "Anyways, ther ain't a +happier woman than me in the state of Californy! Well, I'm most thro' +with my sewing, an' I'd like ter show ye both what I've done, but----" + +"We've have been waiting for this, Gloriana," said Ajax, tartly. "As a +member of the family you have not treated my brother and myself +fairly. This mysterious work of yours is not only wearing you to skin +and bone, it is consuming us with curiosity." + +"Ye're jokin', Mr. Ajax." + +"This is no joking matter, Gloriana." + +She blushed, and glanced indecisively at two solemn faces. + +"Ye've bin more 'n good ter me," she said slowly, "but a secret is a +secret till it's told. I hate ter tell my secret, an'--an' yer both +young unmarried men. It's really embarrassin'." + +"Your secret is no secret," said my brutal brother. "Somebody, +Gloriana, is about to get married--eh?" + +"Good land! How did ye come ter guess that?" + +"Uncle Jake has not said a word." + +"Well--why should he?" + +"He's as close as a clam--the old sinner. So we can congratulate you, +Gloriana?" + +"Ye kin indeed." + +We shook hands, and she led the way to her own room. There, spread +upon her bed, lay some dainty garments, exquisitely fashioned,--a +regular trousseau! Even to our inexperienced eyes the beauty of the +workmanship was amazing. + +"A woman," she murmured, "likes ter look at sech things. An' I do +think these air good enough." + +"Good enough!" we repeated. "They're fit for a queen." + +"An' a queen is goin' ter wear 'em," said Gloriana proudly--"a queen +o' beauty." + +We stared blankly at each other. Had Cupid robbed his victim of her +wits? + +"They air fer Miss Miriam Standish, who was queen o' beauty at the San +Lorenzy carnival. Miss Standish is the granddaughter of Doctor +Standish. Ye've heard o' him--of course?" + +She glanced keenly at Ajax, who rose to the occasion with an alacrity +that I trust the recording angel appreciated. + +"Of course," he said hastily. "Doctor Standish is a man of mark; as a +physician, he----" + +"He ain't a physician," said Gloriana. "He's a doctor o' divinity--a +learned, godly man." + +"And his granddaughter is about to marry----" + +"Mr. Hubert Leadbetter. I should say _Professor_ Leadbetter, who +keeps the biggest drug-store in town." + +We had bought drugs from the Professor, and were happily able to +testify to his personal charms. Gloriana beamed. + +"Ther ain't a finer young man in the land, Mr. Ajax: he's jest as good +as his own sarsaparilla." + +"You are going to attend the wedding?" said I, thinking of the +wonderful bonnet. + +"If you please," said Gloriana. "I jest couldn't stay away. Why, I've +made things fer Miriam Standish ever since she was born. That is how I +learned ter sew as few women kin sew." + +Ajax touched one of the garments lightly, as became a bachelor. + +"This work will bring you many shekels, Gloriana. I had no idea you +were such a needlewoman." + +"What!" she cried, her face crimson. "Do you think I'd take money from +Miriam Standish? Why----" + +She stopped short in confusion, and covered her poor face with +trembling hands. + +"I beg your pardon," said Ajax gravely, "I wouldn't hurt your +feelings, Gloriana, for the world." + +She looked up, irresolutely. + +"I reckon I've said too much or too little," she said slowly. "Ye're +both gen'lemen, an' ye've bin awful kind ter me. I kin trust ye with +my secret, an' I'm goin' ter do it. The Standishes, are New England +folk--high-toned an' mighty particler. It's as easy fer them ter be +virtuous as ter eat punkin pie fer breakfast. I come from Wisconsin, +where we think more of our bodies than our souls; an' 'twas in +Wisconsin that I first met Dr. Standish. He had a call to the town, +wher I lived with--with my sister. She, my sister, was a real pretty +girl then, but of a prettiness that soon fades. An' she hired out as +cook ter the Doctor. He was a good man, an' a kind one, but she paid +back his kindness by runnin' off with his only son." + +"Surely," said Ajax gently, "the son was also to blame?" + +"No, sir, my sister was ter blame, an' she knew it. We was common +folk, Mr. Ajax, what they would call in the South--white trash, an' +the Standishes was real quality. My sister knew that, an' refused to +marry the young man, tho' he asked her on his bended knees. Then he +died, an'--an' my sister died, an' nothin' was left but the sorrow an' +the shame, an'--Miriam." + +The name fell softly on a silence that we respected. Presently she +continued-- + +"Doctor Standish offered to take the child, an' I dared not keep her. +His terms were awful hard, but just: the scandal'd broke up his home, +an' his heart. He tole me he'd take Miriam ter Californy, an' that she +must never know the story of her mother's sin. That was right, Mr. +Ajax--eh?" + +"I don't know, Gloriana. Go on." + +"I promised him never ter speak to the child, an' I've kept my word; +but he let me make her things. That was kind of him--very kind." + +"Very kind, indeed," said Ajax. + +"I followed 'em ter Californy, an' worked out, an' sold books an' +peddled fruit, but I've kep' track o' little Miriam." + +"You have never spoken to her, you say?" + +"Never. Doctor Standish kin trust me. He's posted me, too. He tole me +o' the wedding. I got word the night I first went ter the village, an' +that's why--" she smiled through her tears--"that's why I wore my +teeth. They cost me twenty dollars, an' I keep 'em fer high days an' +holidays." + +Ajax began to pace up and down the room. I heard him swearing to +himself, and his fists were clenched. I felt certain that he was about +to interfere in matters that did not concern us. + +"Miss Standish should be told the truth," said he at last. + +"No, no," she exclaimed. "I'm a wicked woman to wish ter kiss her. I +done wrong in telling the secret, but yer sympathy jest twisted it +outer me. Promise me, Mr. Ajax, that ye'll never give me away." + +We pledged our word, and left her. + +* * * * * + +"Gloriana's dun days must soon come to an end," said Ajax to me upon +the eve of the wedding. + +"Why shouldn't she marry Uncle Jake? The old chap wants her. He +informed me this afternoon that a double team travelled farther than a +single horse. And he hangs about the kitchen door all the time, and +divides Gloriana's favours with the pig." + +"Tell him to propose." + +"I'll have to do it for him," replied my brother. "Uncle Jake has not +the gift of tongues." + +We accompanied Gloriana to San Lorenzo; as we feared to trust our +friend--for so we had come to regard her--with the mule, a mischievous +beast, spoiled by prosperity. Ajax drove a skittish pair of colts. +Gloriana and I occupied the back seat of our big spring wagon. + +"My brother is not Uncle Jake," said Ajax, as soon as the colts had +settled down to business, "but he'll tell you all the pretty things +the old man says about you." + +"Uncle Jake is puffectly rediclous," replied Gloriana gaily. "His love +is cupboard love." + +"He has mired down at last." + +"Nonsense! Mr. Ajax." + +"He is set on matrimony. You are the one woman in the world for him. +Take him, Gloriana; and then we'll all live together for ever and +ever." + +"Mr. Ajax, you'd sooner joke than eat." + +"I'm not joking now. Uncle Jake is an honest man, with money laid by. +He would make you comfortable for life, and such a marriage might pave +the way to--to a better understanding with Doctor Standish." + +Her face flushed at these last words, and fire flooded her eyes. +Looking at her, I realised that long ago this worn woman must have +been a beautiful girl. + +"No," she answered steadily. "I wouldn't say Yes to the Angel Gabriel. +Uncle Jake and I would make a baulky team. He's obstinate as my old +mule, an' so am I. An' there's another thing: I'm most petered out, +an' need a rest. Mattermony ain't rest." + +My brother had tact enough to change the subject. + +Descending the San Lorenzo grade, a sharp incline, Gloriana called our +attention to a view panoramic and matchless beneath the glamour of +sunset. Below us lay the mission town, its crude buildings aglow with +rosy light; to the left was the canon, a frowning wilderness of +manzanita, cactus and chaparral; to the right towered the triune peak +of the Bishop, purple against an amber sky; in the distance were the +shimmering waters of the Pacific. Upon the face of the landscape +brooded infinite peace, and the soft shadows of evening. + +"In Californy," said our passenger, "the glorious works o' the Lord +air revealed. There's the Bishop: he looks fine to-night. Ye kin see +the peak, but the sea fog's crawlin' in, an' shets off the main body +o' the mountain. That's wher the fogs air always thickest. An' that's +wher I lost my way, Mr. Ajax. Yes, sir, my feet stumbled on the dark +mountain, as the prophet says, but I clumb the stony places, an' now, +on the top, its clear." + +"Gloriana," said Ajax, after a pause, "will you allow my brother, who +is a grave and learned signor, to plead your cause with Doctor +Standish? I know what lies nearest your heart." + +In this impudent fashion he laid a grievous burden on me; for I have +no stomach for other folk's pastry, yet the hope that glistened upon +Gloriana's face whetted a strange appetite. + +"I'll speak to him--if you wish it," said I. + +"No," she returned, her eyes giving the lie to her lips. "It wouldn't +be right." + +But a woman's brain is a sorry advocate against her heart. Ajax, as I +expected, put her scruples to rout. It was agreed that I should carry, +as credentials, Gloriana's present--the parcel she hugged to her +bosom, weighty with love and linen; that the interview should take +place after dinner; that the recognition of Gloriana as Miriam's +blood-relation should be not demanded but suggested with all deference +due to a doctor of divinity. The Standishes boarded at the Hotel Buena +Vista, where we always stayed; Gloriana was set down at a modest two- +bit house, some three-quarters of a mile distant. + +As the hour of meeting the Doctor approached, my courage oozed from +every pore, distilling a malignant dew of mistrust that not even the +optimism of Ajax could evaporate. As we sat at meat I noted with +apprehension the stern features of Standish, who occupied an adjoining +table. He ate sparingly, as became an old man, and drank no wine. His +granddaughter, a charming girl, with eyes that reminded me of +Gloriana, chattered gaily to him, but he replied in monosyllables. +Doubtless he was thinking of the parting on the morrow. + +Half-an-hour later he received me in his room, and asked courteously +in what way he could serve me. + +I laid my credentials upon the table. They were flanked, I remarked, +by a Bible, and a well-worn book of prayer. + +"This," I began lamely, "is a present from our housekeeper, Gloriana, +to your granddaughter. She asked me to deliver it into your hands." + +"I thank you, sir," he replied stiffly. "You say this--er--woman is +your housekeeper?" + +"Our housekeeper--and our friend." + +"Indeed. Well, sir, I am obliged to you. Good-night." + +"A present," said I, "demands an acknowledgment." + +"An acknowledgment? You look at me very strangely, young man." + +Upon this I spoke; explaining, in halting sentences, my mission. He +listened attentively, a frown upon his somewhat narrow forehead. + +"How dare you interfere in such matters!" he asked, in a voice that +quavered with suppressed rage. "What right have you to come between me +and a woman, an ignorant, immoral creature, whose very presence is +contamination?" + +"Ignorant, illiterate--yes; but a braver, truer, more loving spirit +never breathed. I count it a privilege to know her. Surely she has +suffered enough for a sister's sin!" + +"My life has been poisoned," he muttered. "I was robbed at once of my +son and of my profession, for I dared not preach what I could not +practise--forgiveness. Leave me, sir." + +"I beg your pardon," said I bitterly. "If you turn a deaf ear to this" +(I touched his Bible), "and these" (I tore open the parcel, and spread +Gloriana's handiwork upon the table), "how can I expect you to listen +to me?" + +"You are in possession of all the facts, sir. Don't presume to judge +me. Go--and take these things with you. It has been the object of my +life to keep my granddaughter and this woman apart. I allowed her to +work for the child, but the clothes she has been sending I have given +to--others. Already, despite my efforts, she suspects that there is +some unhappy mystery about her birth." + +* * * * * + +Ajax met me on the threshold of our cheerless hotel parlour, and +listened confounded to my story. As we sat smoking and talking the +bell-boy ushered in Gloriana. When she caught sight of her precious +parcel she gasped with satisfaction. + +"I'm most choked," she panted, "in trying ter get here in time. I +reckon I run most o' the way. Ever since ye set me down I've bin +tryin' studyin' an' worryin'. I don't want ye," she turned an anxious +face to mine, "ter speak ter Doctor Standish to-night, fer it might +onsettle Miriam. Good land o' Peter, how short my breath is! Ye see +ther couldn't be room in the child's heart jest now fer me an' the +_Pro_fessor. An' when that ther idee took aholt it seemed as if I +couldn't rest till I saw ye. I'm mighty glad I was in time." + +The words fell from her lips in sobs and gasps. + +"It's all right," said Ajax. "Sit down, Gloriana. You deserve a +scolding." + +As he spoke she sank upon the couch, and tugged convulsively at the +white linen band around her throat. + +"She is ill," whispered Ajax. "Run for assistance--quick!" + +I chanced to meet the bell-boy, and dispatched him in search of a +physician. Unable to discriminate between doctors of medicine and +divinity, the youth summoned in hot haste Doctor Standish. His +granddaughter, learning that a woman was in sore distress, accompanied +him. They entered the room together. The Doctor motioned the girl +back, but she hastened forward, and, looking with infinite compassion +into the poor twisted face, took Gloriana's hands in hers. Some one +administered brandy and spirits of ammonia. + +"How did this happen?" said the Doctor aside to me. + +I spared him nothing in the recital, and his stern features softened +as I emphasised Gloriana's anxiety to save Miriam from worry. As I +finished, the faithful creature opened her eyes, which rested +naturally upon the face of Miriam. + +"Why--it's my little girl," she said faintly. Doctor Standish bent +forward. + +"If she mistakes you for one of her own kin, don't undeceive her. Play +the part." + +Miriam nodded, and kissed the frail hands that fluttered round her +head. + +"Gimme my parcel," she said presently, in a stronger voice. "Mercy +sakes! I'm awful weak; but I'd like ter show my little girl the things +I made for her." + +The parcel was brought and untied. Gloriana touched the garments +tenderly. + +"Nothin'," she murmured, "kin come closer to ye than these pretty +things, excep' the love I stitched into 'em. When you wear 'em you'll +think o' me, Miss Standish." + +At the sound of her name the girl started, and looked askance at her +grandfather, who turned his head aside. + +"Who is this woman!" she asked in a low voice. + +The answer came from Gloriana, slowly and distinctly. + +"I'm--nothin'--to--ye; but ye've bin the world an' all ter me. Well--I +said I'd never go ter my little girl, because I wasn't fit, but I +always thought that the Lord in His mercy would bring her ter me. Ye +wore the clothes I sent, an' mebbee ye wondered who made 'em. 'Twas +the happiness o' my life sewing on 'em, an' ter think you was wearin' +them. I've worked awful hard, but I kin take it easy--now. I feel reel +sleepy, too. Good-night, my pretty, good-night!" + +We were quite unprepared for what happened, believing that our poor +friend was merely over-wrought and weary. But as the words "good- +night" fell softly upon our ears Gloriana sighed peacefully--and died. + +"Who is this woman?" said Miriam for the second time, thinking that +Gloriana had fallen asleep. + +The Doctor was not so deceived. He pressed forward, and laid his +trembling fingers upon the wrist of the dead, and then bent his head +till it rested upon the breast of her he had counted a scandalous +sinner. When he confronted us the tears were rolling down his face. + +"May God forgive me!" he cried, falling upon his knees. "This woman, +Miriam, was your mother." + + + + +V + +BUMBLEPUPPY + + +Bumblepuppy is a synonym of whist played in defiance of certain time- +honoured conventions and principles. Ajax said with reason that +Johnnie Kapus, the nephew of our neighbour, old man Kapus, played the +game of life in such a sorry, blundering fashion that he marvelled why +his uncle gave him house-room. Ajax christened Johnnie--Bumble-puppy. + +Once we hired Johnnie to work for us at the rate of half-a-dollar a +day. A heavy rain-storm had just taken place, and my brother insisted +that Johnnie was the right man to fill up the "wash-outs" in and about +the corrals. He was strong, big, docile as a cow, and he lived within +a few hundred yards of the ranch-house. + +Johnnie was provided with a spade and a wheelbarrow, and led to a +gaping hole beneath the barn. I explained that the rain had washed +away the soil and made the hole, which must be filled up before more +rain should fall. + +"Wheer shall I git the dirt from?" Johnnie demanded. + +"From the most convenient place," said I. Ajax and I returned to the +barn an hour later. The hole was filled; but another hole, from which +Johnnie had taken the dirt, as large as the first, seriously +threatened the under-pinning of the building. + +Ajax swore. Johnnie looked at me, as he drawled out: + +"The boss told me to git the dirt wheer 'twas mos' handy." + +Ajax grinned. + +"I see. It was the boss' fault, not yours. Now then, Johnnie, the work +must be done all over again." + +"If you say so, boys, I'll do it." + +As we moved away Ajax pointed out the propriety of giving explicit +directions. At dinner time we came back to the barn. Johnnie had taken +the earth out of the first hole and put it back again into the second! + +"You star-spangled fool!" said Ajax. + +"You tole me," replied Johnnie, "that the work mus' be did all over +agen--an' I done it." + +"Directions," I remarked, "may be made too explicit." + +After this incident, we always spoke of Johnnie as Bumblepuppy. + +Some six months later Alethea-Belle told us that Johnnie Kapus was +doing "chores" for the widow Janssen; milking her cow, taking care of +the garden, and drawing water. Upon inquiry, however, we learned that +the cow was drying up, the well had caved in, and the garden produced +no weeds, it is true, and no vegetables! + +"Why doesn't the widow sack him?" Ajax asked. + +"Mis' Janssen is kinder sorry for Johnnie," replied the +schoolmistress; then she added irrelevantly, "There's no denyin' that +Johnnie Kapus has the loveliest curly hair." + +About a fortnight after this, when the July sun was at its zenith and +the starch out of everything animate and inanimate, old man Kapus came +up to the ranch-house. Johnnie, he said, disappeared during the +previous night. + +"And he's bin kidnapped, too," the uncle added. + +"Kidnapped?" + +"Yes, boys--hauled out o' winder! A man weighin' close onter two +hundred pounds 'd naterally prefer to walk out o' the door, but the +widder hauled Johnnie out o' winder." + +"The widow?" + +"Mis' Janssen. There was buggy tracks at the foot o' the melon patch, +and the widder's missin'. She's put it up to marry my Johnnie. I +suspicioned something, but I counted on Johnnie. I sez to myself: +'Others might be tempted by a plump, well-lookin' widder, but not +Johnnie.' Ye see, boys, Johnnie ain't quite the same as you an' me." + +"Not quite," said Ajax. + +"Mebbee ye've wondered why I sot sech store by Johnnie. Wal--I'll tell +ye. Johnnie's paw an' me was brothers an' pardners afore the war. An' +after Bull Run John sez to me: 'Abram,' he sez, 'we mustn't let Ole +Glory trail in the dust.' That's what he sez. 'John,' I answers, 'what +kin we do to prevent it?' '_Enlist_,' sez he. An' we done it. But +afore we go within smellin' distance o' the rebs, yes, boys, afore we +saw 'em, a bullet comes slam-bang into John's head." + +The old man paused, overcome. We turned our eyes from his wrinkled, +troubled face, as Ajax entreated him to say no more. + +"He died in defence of his flag," I muttered. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Johnnie's uncle, "I thought you'd say that. No, boys, +John didn't die. A Kapus takes a heap o' killin.' John up an lived-- +an' _married_! He married my girl, too, Susie Bunker. Susie felt +awful sorry for him, for that there rebel bullet had kinder made +scrambled eggs with pore John's brains. I let Susie marry John, +because I knew that he needed a good woman's keer. And then Johnnie +was born: a whoppin' baby, but with a leetle something missin' in his +purty head. Then John died, and soon enough Susie got peaked-face an' +lost her relish fer food. She tuk a notion that John needed her +t'otherside. Just afore she sent in her checks, she give me Johnnie, +an' she ast my pardon for marryin' John instead o' me. I tole her she +done right. An' I promised to look after Johnnie. Up to date, boys, I +hev. But now that darned widder woman has onexpectedly kidnapped him. +What kin I do?" + +"The widow will look after both of you," I suggested. + +"What! Share my Johnnie with her? Not much. She stole that there boy +from me by force. By Jing! I'll take him from her without liftin' a +finger. Ye see, Johnnie is mighty apt to disappint the widder. +Sometimes--more often than not--Johnnie _is_--disappintin'! I +allus jedge the pore boy by contrairies. Most o' men when they marry +air apt to forgit them as raised 'em, but Johnnie'll pine fer me. I +know it. Bless his heart, he can't git along nohow without me." + +Listening to this simple talk, watching the old man's rough, honest +face, my own heart grew chill with apprehension. The widow had a small +income and many charms. It was certain that Johnnie's curly hair, +bright blue eyes, and stalwart figure had captivated her fancy. Pity +had bloomed into love. The pair must have driven--as fast as the +widow's steed could travel--into San Lorenzo. By this time, high noon, +the licence, doubtless, had been issued and the marriage solemnised by +parson or justice of the peace. Once married, no man--not even old man +Kapus--would be justified in tearing Bumblepuppy from the fond arms of +his bride. + +We asked Johnnie's uncle to dine with us. He thanked us warmly. + +"Boys, you surmise that I'm feelin' lonesome. And I am. But I won't be +lonesome long. The widder can't let that cow o' hers go without two +milkin's, an' her pigs an' chickens must be fed. She'll be back in the +village 'bout four or five; an' to-night, to-night, boys, my Johnnie +'ll be home to supper." + +Ajax discreetly descanted upon the widow's fine complexion, but old +man Kapus lent him but an indifferent ear. + +"She's fat an' slick," he admitted, "but Johnnie's fat an' slick, too. +An' who made him so? Why--his uncle Abram. D'ye think now that I've +fed him up and got him into sech fine shape that he'll leave me? No, +sir. You might act that-a-way, but not my Johnnie." + +After dinner, we accompanied Uncle Abram as far as the creek which +flows between the village and our domain. Here stand some fine +cottonwood trees and half-a-dozen lordly white-oaks. The spot is +famous as a picnicking ground, and in the heat of summer is as cool a +place as may be found in the county. And here, paddling in the brook +like an urchin, we found Bumblepuppy. His eyes sparkled as they fell +upon the face of his uncle. + +"Ye've got back, Johnnie," said the old man. + +"Yas. 'Twas hotter'n a red-hot stove on the road." + +"Ye druv in with the widder woman?" + +"Yas. I druv in with her; but I walked back. Guess I run the most o' +the way, too." + +"An' Mis' Janssen--wheer is she?" + +"I dunno', uncle Abram." + +"Is she still a widder woman, Johnnie?" + +"She was when I left her," said Bumblepuppy. + +He had ascended the bank. Sitting down, he began to put on his socks. +I noted the admirable symmetry of calf and ankle; I thought of the +lungs and muscles which had sustained the superb body during a twenty- +six mile run between blazing earth and sky. + +"What in thunder did ye go to town fer?" asked the old man. "Speak up, +Johnnie. Give us the cold facts." + +Then Bumblepuppy made the speech of his life. + +"Uncle Abram, you tole me to obey Mis' Janssen, an' do what she said." + +"That's so, Johnnie." + +"Yesday, she tole me to fix up an' be ready to go to San Lorenzy with +her. She said we'd travel by night 'cause o' the heat. An' she said I +was not to 'sturb you. She said she'd come to the winder an' tap. Then +I'd crawl out without 'sturbin' you. Wal--she come around about two, +jest as the roosters was a'crowin 'fer the second time. I slipped out +o' winder in my stockined feet. I hope I didn't 'sturb ye?" + +"Ye didn't. Go on." + +"In town Mis' Janssen said she'd fixed it up to marry me. She said I +needed a lovin' wife, and that me an' she'd have a Fourth o' July time +together. I said nothing, 'cause you'd tole me never to interrup' a +lady when she was a-talkin'. She kep' on a-talkin' till we got to the +Court House, where Mis' Janssen bought a licence. Then we hunted a +minister. Bimeby, he ast me if I was willin' to take Sairy Anne +Janssen to be my wife----" + +"An' ye said NO, my own Johnnie?" + +"That's what I done, Uncle Abram. And then she sez, kinder wheedlin': +'But you will marry yer Sairy Anne, Johnnie, won't ye?' And then, +gittin' scared, I kinder forgot my manners, fer I said: 'No--I'm d---- +d if I will!' An' I disremember what she said nex', but I found myself +in the road, a-runnin' like a mad steer. Jee! that road was hotter'n a +red-hot stove!" + +During the recital of this adventure Bumblepuppy's face had deepened +in tint till it glowed like an iron disc in the heart of a fire. As he +finished speaking, he knelt down and dipped his head into the cool, +bubbling creek. Lifting up his ruddy face, a ray of sunshine, +filtering through the tremulous leaves of the cottonwoods, fell full +upon his chestnut curls, and each drop of water on his hair became of +a sudden a gem of prismatic colour and most brilliant lustre. + +"Phew-w-w!" said Bumblepuppy. "I hope Mis' Janssen ain't feelin' as +warm as I am." + + + + +VI + +JASPERSON'S BEST GIRL + + +Jasperson came to the ranch at the time of the March branding, and it +was well understood between the contracting parties--Ajax and I of the +first part, and Jasper Jasperson of the second part, all of San +Lorenzo County, in the State of California--that the said Jasperson +came to us as a favour, and, so to speak, under protest. For he had +never worked out before, and was possessed of money in bank and some +four hundred acres of good arable land which, he carefully explained +to us, he was unwilling to farm himself. Indeed, his appearance +bespoke the man of independent means, for he wore a diamond collar- +stud--his tie was always pulled carefully down so as not to interfere +with this splendid gem--and two diamond rings. In Jasperson's hot +youth he had come into violent contact with a circular saw, and the +saw, as he admitted, had the best of the encounter--two fingers of his +left hand being left in the pit. A man of character and originality, +he insisted upon wearing the rings upon his maimed hand, both upon the +index finger; and once, when Ajax suggested respectfully that the +diamonds would shine to better advantage upon the right hand, he +retorted reasonably enough that the mutilated member "kind of needed +settin' off." He seized the opportunity to ask Ajax why we wore no +jewellery, and upon my brother replying that we considered diamonds +out of place upon a cattle ranch, he roundly asserted that in his +opinion a "gen'leman couldn't be too dressy." + +During the first month he bought in San Lorenzo a resplendent black +suit, and an amazing dress shirt with an ivy pattern, worked in white +silk, meandering down and up the bosom. To oblige Ajax he tried on +these garments in our presence, and spoke hopefully of the future, +which he said was sure to bring to his wardrobe another shirt and +possibly a silk hat. We took keen interest in these important matters, +and assured Jasperson that it would afford us the purest pleasure to +see once more a silk hat. Then Ajax indiscreetly asked if he was about +to commit matrimony. + +"Boys," he replied, blushing, "I'd ought to be engaged, but I ain't. +Don't give me away, but I ain't got no best girl--not a one. +Surprisin', yes, sir, considerin' how I'm fixed--most _sur_prisin'." + +He took off his beautiful coat, and wrapped it carefully in tissue +paper. We were sitting on the verandah after supper, and were well +into our second pipes. The moonlight illumined the valley, but +Jasperson's small delicate face was in shadow. From the creek hard by +came the croaking of many frogs, from the cow pasture the shrilling of +the crickets. A cool breeze from the Pacific was stirring the leaves +of the willows and cottonwoods, and the wheat, now two feet high, +murmured praise and thanksgiving for the late rains. When nature is +eloquent, why should a mortal refrain from speech? + +"Boys," continued Jasperson; "I'm a-goin' to tell ye something; +because--well, because I feel like it. I've never had no best girl!" +"Jasperson," said Ajax, "I can't believe that. What! you, a young +and----" + +"I ain't young," interrupted the man of independent means. "I'm nigh +on to thirty-six. Don't flim-flam me, boys. I ain't young, and I ain't +beautiful, but fixed up I am--dressy, an' that should count." + +"It does count," said my brother, emphatically. "I've seen you, +Jasperson, on Sundays, when I couldn't take my eyes off you. The girls +must be crazy." + +"The girls, gen'lemen, air all right; the trouble ain't with them. +It's with me. Don't laugh: it ain't no laughin' matter. Boys--I'm +bashful. That's what ails Jasper Jasperson. The girls," he cried +scornfully; "you bet they know a soft snap when they see it, and I am +a soft snap, an' don't you forget it! + +"I left my own land," he continued dreamily, in a soft, melancholy +voice, "because there ain't a lady within fifteen miles o' my barn, +and here there's a village, and----" + +"Her name, please," said Ajax, with authority; "you must tell us her +name." + +"Wal," he bent forward, and his face came out of the shadows; we could +see that his pale blue eyes, red-rimmed and short-sighted, were +suffused with tender light, and his pendulous lower lip was a-quiver +with emotion; even the hair of his head--tow-coloured and worn _a la +Pompadour_--seemed to bristle with excitement, "Wal," he whispered +"it's--it's Miss Birdie Dutton!" + +In the silence that followed I could see Ajax pulling his moustache. +Miss Birdie Dutton! Why, in the name of the Sphinx, should Jasperson +have selected out of a dozen young ladies far more eligible Miss +Birdie Dutton? She was our postmistress, a tall, dark, not uncomely +virgin of some thirty summers. But, alas! one of her eyes was +fashioned out of glass; her nose was masculine and masterful; and her +chin most positive. Jasperson's chin was equally conspicuous-- +negatively. Miss Birdie, be it added, was a frequent contributor to +the columns of the _San Lorenzo Banner_, and Grand Secretary of a +local temperance organisation. She boarded with the Swiggarts; and Mr. +Swiggart, better known as Old Smarty, told me in confidence that "she +wouldn't stand no foolishness"; and he added, reflectively, that she +was something of a "bull-dozer." I knew that Old Smarty had sold his +boarder an aged and foundered bronco for fifty dollars, and that +within twenty-four hours the animal had been returned to him and the +money refunded to Miss Birdie. Many persons had suffered grievously at +the hands of Mr. Swiggart, but none, saving Miss Dutton, could boast +of beating him in a horse-deal. + +Presently I expressed surprise that Jasperson had the honour of Miss +Dutton's unofficial acquaintance. + +"I was interdooced last fall," said our friend, "at a candy-pullin' up +to Mis' Swiggart's. Not that Miss Birdie was a-pullin' candy. No, sir; +she ain't built that a way, but she was settin' there kind of +scornful, but smilin' An' later she an' me sung some hymns together. +Mebbe, gen'lemen, ye've heard Miss Birdie sing?" + +I shook my head regretfully, but Ajax spoke enthusiastically of the +lady's powers as a vocalist. He had previously described her voice to +me as "a full choke, warranted to kill stone-dead at sixty yards." + +"It is a lovely voice," sighed Jasperson, "strong, an' full, an' rich. +Why, there ain't an organ in the county can down her high B!" Then, +warmed by my brother's sympathy, he fumbled in his pocket, and found a +sheet of note-paper. Upon this he had written a quatrain that he +proposed to read to us _au clair de la lune_. The lines were +addressed: "To My Own Blackbird." + +"She's a pernounced brunette," explained the poet; "and her name is +Birdie. I thought some of entitlin' the pome: 'To a Mocking Bird'; but +I surmised that would sound too pussonal. She has mocked me, an' +others, more'n once." + +He sighed, still smarting at the memory of a gibe; then he recited the +following in an effective monotone:-- + + "Oh! scorn not the humble worm, proud bird, + As you sing i' the top o' the tree; + Though doomed to squirm i' the ground, unheard. + He'll make a square meal for thee." + +"It ain't Shakespeare," murmured the bard, "but the idee is O.K." + +My brother commended the lines as lacking neither rhyme nor reason, +but he questioned the propriety of alluding to a lady's appetite, and +protested strongly against the use of that abject word--worm. He told +Jasperson that in comparing himself to a reptile he was slapping the +cheeks of his progenitors. + +"But I do feel like a worm when Miss Birdie's around," objected the +man of acres. "It may be ondignified, but that there eye of hers does +make me wiggle." + +"It's a thousand pities," said I softly, "that Miss Dutton has only +one eye." + +Jasperson wouldn't agree with me. He replied, with ardour, that he +would never have dared to raise his two blue orbs to Miss Dutton's +brilliant black one, unless he had been conscious that his mistress, +like himself, had suffered mutilation. + +"I'm two fingers short," he concluded, "an' she's lackin' an eye. +That, gen'lemen, makes it a stand-off. Say, shall I send her this yere +pome?" + +"Most certainly not," said Ajax. + +"Then for the Lord's sake, post me." + +I touched Ajax with my foot, and coughed discreetly; for I knew my +brother's weakness. He is a spendthrift in the matter of giving +advice. If Jasperson had appealed to me, the elder and more +experienced, I should have begged politely, but emphatically, to be +excused from interference. I hold that a man and a maid must settle +their love affairs without help from a third party. Ajax, unhappily, +thinks otherwise. + +"Miss Dutton," he began, tentatively, "is aware, Jasperson, of your-- +er--passion for her?" + +"She ain't no sech a thing," said the lover. + +"Yet her eye," continued Ajax, "is keen--keen and penetrating." + +"It's a peach," cried the enthusiastic poet. "There ain't another like +it in the land, but it can't see in the dark; an', boys, I've not +shown my hand--yet!" + +"You've made no advances directly or indirectly?" + +"Not a one. By golly! I--I dassn't. I jest didn't know how. I ain't up +to the tricks. You air, of course; but I'm not." + +My brother somewhat confusedly hastened to assure Jasperson that his +knowledge of the sex was quite elementary, and gleaned for the most +part from a profound study of light literature. + +The poet grinned derisively. "You ain't no tenderfoot," he said. "I +reckon that what you don't know about the girls ain't worth picklin'." + +"Well, if you mean business," said Ajax didactically, "if nothing we +can say or do will divert your mind from courtship and matrimony--if, +my dear Jasperson, you are prepared to exchange the pleasant places, +the sunny slopes, and breezy freedom of bachelor life for the thorny +path that leads to the altar, and thence to--er--the cradle, if, in +short, you are determined to own a best girl, why, then the first and +obvious thing to do is to let her know discreetly that you're in love +with her." + +"As how?" said Jasperson, breathlessly. "I told ye that when she was +around I felt like a worm." + +"You spoke of wiggling," replied my brother; "and I suppose that +heretofore you have wiggled _from_ and not _to_ the bird. +Next time, wiggle up, my boy--as close as possible." + +"You're dead right," murmured the disciple; "but look at here: when I +call on Miss Birdie, she sez, 'Mister Jasperson,' or, mebbe, 'Mister +Jasper, please be seated, an' let me take your hat.' Naterally, boys, +I take the chair she p'ints out, an' then, dog-gone it! she takes +_another_." + +"Do you expect this young lady to sit down in your lap, sir? Maids, +Jasperson, must not be lightly put to confusion. They must be stalked, +and when at bay wooed with tender words and languishing glances. Now +listen to me. Next Sunday, when you call upon Miss Dutton, take the +chair she offers, but as soon as a suitable opportunity presents +itself, ask to see the album. Thus you will cleverly betray a warm +interest in her by showing a lively interest in her people. And to +look over an album two persons must----" + +"You bet they must," interrupted the poet. "They must nestle up. +That's right! What kind of a chump am I not to have thought of that +before? Yes, boys, she's got an album, a beaut', too: crimson plush +an' nickel. And, of course, the pictures of her folks is inside. By +gum! I'll give the homeliest of 'em sech a send-off as----" + +"You will not," said Ajax. "Remember, Jasperson, that a burning black +eye indicates jealousy, which you must beware of arousing. Don't +praise too wantonly the beauty of Miss Dutton's sisters and cousins; +but if the father is well-looking, pay your mistress the compliment of +saying that the children of true lovers always take after the father. +In turning the leaves of the album you might touch her hand, quite +accidentally. No less an authority than Mr. Pickwick commends a +respectful pressure." + +"I'll do it," exclaimed Jasperson, "I'll do it, sure!" + +"Has she a pretty hand?" I asked. + +"Has she a pretty hand!" echoed the lover, in disdainful tones, "She +has the hand of a queen! The Empress of Roosia ain't got a whiter nor +a finer hand! Miss Birdie ain't done no harder work than smackin' a +kid that needs it." + +"I've heard," said I, "that she can smack--hard." + +"An' I'd be a liar if I denied it," replied Jasperson. "Wal, +gen'lemen, I'm obligated to ye. Next Sabbath I'll wade right in." + +Upon the following Sunday our hero rose betimes, tubbed himself, +shaved himself, perfumed his small person with bergamot, and then +arrayed it in the ivy-bosomed shirt and the $75 suit of broadcloth. +His toilet occupied just two hours and seventeen minutes. Ajax +decorated the lapel of his coat with a handsome rosebud, and then the +impatient swain tied round his neck a new white silk handkerchief, +mounted his horse, and betook himself at a gallop to the village +church. Ajax remarked with regret that the pace was too hot at the +start, and feared that our colt would finish badly. As we walked back +to the verandah, I told my brother that he had assumed a big +responsibility; for I was convinced that Miss Dutton, albeit possessed +of many admirable qualities, was not the woman to make little +Jasperson either happy or comfortable. She, doubtless, being a wise +bird, would greedily snap up this nice worm who had waxed fat in the +richest soil. But how would the worm fare when swallowed up and +absorbed? + +At five that afternoon the amorous poet rode slowly up to the corral. +As he sat limply upon his sorrel horse, smiling dismally at Ajax, we +could see that the curl was out of his moustache, and out of the brim +of his sombrero; upon his delicate face was inscribed failure. + +"Boys," said he, throwing one leg over the horn of the saddle; "I +didn't get there. I--I mired down!" + +Later, he gave us some interesting details. It transpired that he had +met his sweetheart, after Sabbath-school, and had sat beside her +during the regular service; after church he had accepted a warm +invitation from Mrs. Swiggart to join the family circle at dinner. At +table he had been privileged to supply Miss Birdie with many dainties: +pickled cucumbers, cup-custards, and root beer. He told us frankly +that he had marked nothing amiss with the young lady's appetite, but +that for his part he had made a sorry meal. + +"My swaller," he said plaintively, "was in kinks before the boolyon +was served." + +"You say," murmured Ajax, "that Miss Dutton's appetite was good?" + +"It was just grand," replied the unhappy bard. "I never seen a lady +eat cup-custards with sech relish." + +"We may infer, then," observed my brother, "that Miss Birdie is still +in happy ignorance of your condition; otherwise pity for you would +surely have tempered that craving for cup-custards." + +"I dun'no', boys, about that. Me an' Miss Birdie sung out o' the same +hynm book, and--and I sort o' showed down. I reckon she knows what +ails Jasper Jasperson." + +Ajax unwisely congratulated the lovelorn one upon this piece of news. +He said that the Rubicon was now passed, and retreat impossible. We +noted the absence of the rosebud, and Jasperson blushingly confessed +that he had presented the flower to his best girl after dinner, an act +of homage--so we presumed--in recognition of the lady's contempt of +danger in mixing pickled cucumbers with cup-custards. + +"After that," said Jasperson, "I thought of the album, an' 'twas then +my feet begun to get cold. But I up and as't to see it, as bold as a +coyote in a hen-roost. Then she sez, kind of soft an' smilin': 'Why, +Mister Jasper, what d'you want to see my album for? you don't know my +folks.'" + +"A glorious opportunity," said Ajax. "What did you reply, my buck?" + +"Dog-gone it! I'd ought to have sailed right in, but I sot there, +shiverin', an' said:' Oh! because ...' jest like a school-girl. And I +could see that the answer made her squirm. She must ha' thought I was +the awflest fool. But to save me that's all I could stammer out--'Oh, +because ...'" + +"Well," said Ajax, encouragingly, "the best of us may be confounded in +love and war." + +"You do put heart into a man," murmured the little fellow. "Wal, sir, +we sot down an' looked through the album. And on the first page was +Miss Birdie's father, the mortician and arterialist." + +"The what?" we exclaimed. + +"Undertaker and _em_-bammer. He's an expert, too. Why, Miss +Birdie was a-tellin' me--" + +I ventured to interrupt him. "I don't think, Jasperson, I should like +an undertaker for a father-in-law. Have you considered that point?" + +"I have, gen'lemen. It might come in mighty handy. Wal, he was the +homeliest critter I ever seen. I dassn't ring in that little song an' +dance you give me. And on the nex' page was Mis' Dutton." He sighed +softly and looked upward. + +"The mother," said Ajax briskly. "Now, I dare swear that she's a good- +looking woman. Nature attends to such matters. Beauty often marries +the b---- the homely man." + +"Mis' Dutton," said Jasperson solemnly, "is now a-singing in the +heavenly choir, an' bein' dead I can't say nothing; but, gen'lemen, +ye'll understand me when I tell ye that Miss Birdie never got her fine +looks from her maw. Not on your life!" + +"Doubtless," said Ajax sympathetically, "there was something in the +faces of Miss Dutton's parents that outweighed the absence of mere +beauty: intelligence, intellect, character." + +"The old man's forehead is kind o' lumpy," admitted Jasperson, "but I +didn't use that. I sot there, as I say, a-shiverin', an' never opened +my face. She then showed me her cousins: daisies they were and no +mistake; but I minded what you said, an' when Miss Birdie as't me if +they wasn't beauties, I sez no--not even good-lookin'; an', by golly! +she got mad, an' when I tetched her hand, obedient to orders, she +pulled it away as if a tarantula had stung it. After that I made +tracks for the barn. I tell ye, gen'lemen, I'm not put up right for +love-makin'." + +Ajax puffed at his pipe, deep in thought. I could see that he was +affected by the miscarriage of his counsels. Presently he removed the +briar from his lips, and said abruptly: "Jasperson, you assert that +you showed down in church. What d'you mean by that? Tell me exactly +what passed." + +The man we believed to be a laggard in love answered confusedly that +he and Miss Dutton had been singing that famous hymn, "We shall meet +in the sweet By-and-by." The congregation were standing, but resumed +their seats at the end of the hymn. Under cover of much scraping of +feet and rustling of starched petticoats, Jasperson had assured his +mistress that the sweet By-and-by was doubtless a very pleasant place, +but that he hoped to meet her often in the immediate future. He told +us that Miss Birdie had very properly taken no notice whatsoever of +this communication; whereupon he had repeated it, lending emphasis to +what was merely a whisper by a sly pressure of the elbow. This, too, +the lady had neither approved nor resented. + +Upon this Ajax assured our friend that he need not despair, and he +said that the vexed question of the fair's appetite had been set at +rest: a happy certainty was the sauce that had whetted her hunger. +Jasperson listened with sparkling eyes. + +"Say," said he; "if you'll help me out, I'll write a letter to Miss +Birdie this very night." + +I frowned and expostulated in vain. Within two minutes, pens, ink and +paper were produced, and both Jasperson and my brother were hard at +work. Between them the following composition was produced. Jasperson +furnished the manner, Ajax the matter. + +"To Miss Birdie Dutton. + +"Dear Friend,--Since leaving you this afternoon, _more abrupt than a +gentleman could wish_, I have taken up my pen to set forth that +which is in my heart, but which cannot leave my trembling lips. Dear +friend, there is too much _at steak_ for me to be calm in your +presence. When I sat by your side, and gazed with you at the noble +faces of your parents, reading there, dear friend, the names of those +great qualities which have been inherited by you, _with queenly +beauty thrown in_, then it was that a sudden sinking inside robbed +your lover of his powers of speech. And how could I see the loveliness +of your cousins when my eyes were dwelling with rapture upon the +stately form of her I trust to call my own? Be mine, dear friend, for +I love you and hope to marry you, to part neither here nor in the +sweet By-and-by. + +"Yours respectfully, + +"Jasper Jasperson. + +"P.S.--_Important_. The ranch is four hundred and three acres, +_paid for_. And there's money somewhere to build a nice +residence, and to furnish it according to Hoyle. We'd keep a hired +girl. + +"P.P.S.--_And a pianner_. J.J.(_A true lover_)." + +This billet-doux was sealed and despatched, and in due time brought an +acceptance. The engagement was formally ratified at a banquet given by +the Swiggarts, and the health of the high contracting parties was +enthusiastically drunk in pink lemonade. The marriage was arranged to +take place during the summer vacation, and Pacific Grove was selected +as the best spot in California for the honeymoon. + +Thus smoothly for a season ran the course of true love. But three +weeks later, when the landscape was wearing its imperial livery of +lupin and eschscholtizia, when the fields at night were white with +moonflowers, when a glorious harvest was assured, and all beasts and +birds and insects were garrulous of love and love's delight--upon May- +day, in short--was disclosed a terrible rift within poor Jasperson's +lute. + +He had escorted his sweetheart to the annual picnic, and returning +late at night found Ajax and me enjoying a modest nightcap before +turning in. We asked him to join us, but he refused with some +asperity, and upon cross-examination confessed that he had promised +Miss Button to take the pledge at the next meeting of the lodge. Now, +we knew that Jasperson was the pink of sobriety, but one who +appreciated an occasional glass of beer, or even a mild cocktail; and +we had heard him more than once denounce the doctrines of the +Prohibitionists; so we were quite convinced that meek submission to +the dictates of the Grand Secretary of Corona Lodge was both +unnecessary and inexpedient. And we said so. + +"Birdie knows I don't drink," stammered our hired man, "but she thinks +I'd ought to take the pledge as an example." + +"An example," echoed Ajax. "To whom? To _us?_" + +"She said an example, gen'lemen, jest--an example." + +"But she meant us," said Ajax sternly. "Our names were mentioned. +Don't you deny it, Jasperson." + +"They was," he admitted reluctantly. "She as't me, careless-like, if +you didn't drink wine with your meals, and I said yes. I'd ought to +have said no." + +"What!" cried my brother, smiting the table till the decanter and +glasses reeled. "You think that you ought to have lied on our account. +Jasperson--I'm ashamed of you; I tremble for your future as the slave +of Miss Dutton." + +"Wal--I didn't lie," said Jasperson defiantly; "I up and told her the +truth: that you had beer for supper, and claret wine, or mebbe sherry +wine, or mebbe both for dinner, and that you took a toddy when you +felt like it, an' that there was champagne down cellar, an' foreign +liquors in queer bottles, an' Scotch whisky, an'--_everything_. +She as't questions and I answered them--like an idiot! Gen'lemen, the +shame you feel for me is discounted by the shame I feel for myself. +I'd ought to have told Birdie that your affairs didn't concern her; +I'd ought to have said that you was honnerable gen'lemen whom I'm +proud to call my intimate friends; I'd ought to have said a thousand +things, but I sot there, and said-nothin'!" + +He was standing as he spoke, emphasising his periods with semaphoric +motions of his right arm. When he had finished he sank quite overcome +upon the big divan, and covered his flushed face with a pair of small +hands. He was profoundly moved, and Ajax appeared less solidly +complacent than usual. I reflected, not without satisfaction, that I +had done what I could to keep Jasperson and the Grand Secretary apart. + +"This is very serious," said Ajax, after a significant pause. "I--I +feel, Jasperson, that this engagement was brought about by--me." + +"It's a fact," assented our hired man. "And that's what makes me feel +so mean right now. Boys, I love that woman so that I dassn't go agin +her." + +Ajax rose in his might and confronted the trembling figure upon the +divan. My brother's nickname was given to him at school in virtue of +his great size and strength. Standing now above Jasperson, his +proportions seemed even larger than usual. The little dandy in his +smug black garments with his diamond stud gleaming in the ivy-bosomed +shirt (his rings had been given to Miss Birdie), with his features +wilting like the wild pansies in the lapel of his coat, dwindled to an +amorphous streak beneath the keen glance of my burly brother. + +"Do you really love her?" said Ajax, in his deepest bass. "Or do you +_fear_ her, Jasperson? Answer honestly." + +The small man writhed. "I dun'no'," he faltered at last. "By golly! I +dun'no'." + +"Then I do know," replied my brother incisively: "you've betrayed +yourself, Jasperson. You're playing the worm. D'you hear? The +_worm_! I once advised you to wiggle up to the bird, now I tell +you solemnly to wiggle away, before it's too late. I've been a fool, +and so have you. For the past three weeks I've had my eye on you, and +I suspected that you'd fallen a victim to an ambitious and +unscrupulous woman. You've lost weight, man; and you've no flesh to +spare. Marry Miss Dutton, and you'll be a scarecrow within a year, and +require the services of the mortician within two! I got you into this +infernal scrape, and, by Heaven I I'll get you out of it." + +"But what will the neighbours say?" stammered Jasperson, sitting +upright. At my brother's words his pendulous nether lip had stiffened, +and now his pale blue eyes were quickening with hope and vitality. He +arranged his white satin tie, that had slipped to one side, and +smoothed nervously the nap of the broadcloth pants, while Ajax clad in +rough grey flannels took a turn up and down our sitting-room. + +My brother and I had lived together for many years, years of fat kine +and years of lean, but I couldn't recall a single instance when he had +considered the opinion of Mrs. Grundy. In coming to California, to a +rough life on a cattle ranch, we had virtually snapped our fingers +beneath the dame's nose. I mention this because it sheds light upon +what follows. + +"The neighbours, Jasperson," replied Ajax, "will say some deuced +unpleasant things. But I think I can promise you the sympathy of the +men, and your ranch is fifteen miles from a petticoat." + +"I dassn't break it off, gen'lemen, not by word of mouth; but--but we +might write." + +"And lay yourself open to a breach of promise case and heavy damages. +No--I've a better plan than that. We'll make Miss Dutton release you. +She shall do the writing this time." + +"Boys," said Jasperson solemnly, "she'll never do it--never! Her mind +is sot on merridge. I see it all now. She hypnotised me, by golly! I +swear she did! That eye of hers is a corker." + +"What night are you to be initiated?" asked Ajax, with seeming +irrelevance. + +"Next Toosday," replied the neophyte nervously. + +"You have never, I believe, been on a spree?" + +"Never, gen'lemen--never." + +"They tell me," said Ajax softly, "that our village whisky, the sheep- +herders' delight, will turn a pet lamb into a roaring lion." + +"It's pizon," said Jasperson,--"jest pizon." + +"You, Jasperson, need a violent stimulant. On Tuesday afternoon, my +boy, you and I will go on a mild spree. I don't like sprees any more +than you do, but I see no other way of cutting this knot. Now, mark +me, not a word to Miss Dutton. It's late, so--good-night." + +Between May-day and the following Tuesday but little transpired worth +recording. Miss Dutton sent the convert a bulky package of tracts, +with certain scathing passages marked--obviously for our benefit--in +red ink; and we learned from Alethea-Belle that the initiation of +Jasper Jasperson was to be made an occasion of much rejoicing, and +that an immense attendance was expected at Corona Lodge. The +storekeeper asked Ajax outright if there were truth in the rumour that +we were to be decorated with the blue ribbon, and my brother hinted +mysteriously that even stranger things than that might happen. +Jasperson complained of insomnia, but he said several times that he +would never forget what Ajax was doing on his behalf, and I don't +think he ever will. For my part I maintained a strict neutrality. +Ethically considered, I was sensible that my brother's actions were +open to severe criticism; at the same time, I was certain that mild +measures would not have prevailed. + +The Grand Secretary, while I was in the post-office, invited me quite +informally to participate in the opening exercises, and to assist at +the banquet, the benediction, so to speak, of the secret rites. She +said that other prominent gentlemen would receive invitations, and +that she was certain the "work" would please and edify. She expressed +much chagrin when I tendered my regret, and amazed me by affirming +that Ajax had cordially consented to be present. This I considered an +outrageous breach of good manners upon his part: if he kept his +promise, a number of most worthy and respectable persons would +consider themselves insulted; so I advised Miss Birdie not to count +upon him. + +"I like your big brother," she said, in her hard, metallic tones; "he +is such a man: he has made quite a conquest of me; for mercy's sake +don't tell him so." + +I pledged myself to profound secrecy, but walking home the remembrance +of an uncanny gleam in her bold black eye put to flight my misgivings. +I decided that Ajax was justified in using "pizon." + +Upon Tuesday afternoon I deemed it expedient to remain at the ranch- +house. About five, Jasperson, arrayed in his best, accompanied Ajax to +the village. The lodge was to open its doors at 7.30; and at ten my +brother returned alone, breathless and red in the face, the bearer of +extraordinary tidings. I shall let him tell the story in his own +words. + +"The whole village," said he, "has been painted by Jasperson a lovely +pigeon-blood red!" Then he sat down and laughed in the most +uncontrollable and exasperating manner. + +"By Jupiter!" he gasped; "I knew that whisky was wonderful stuff, but +I never believed it could turn a worm into a Malay running amok." Then +he laughed again till the tears rolled down his cheeks. + +Between the gusts and gurgles of laughter a few more details leaked +out. I present them connectedly. The kind reader will understand that +allowance must be made for my brother. He is a seasoned vessel, but no +man can drink our village nectar with impunity. + +"Of course," he began, "I knew that, this being his last day, the boys +would ask Jasperson to celebrate. So, mindful, of your precious +reputation--I don't care a hang about my own--I kept in the +background. Upon inquiry you'll find that it is generally conceded +that I did my best to prevent what has happened. And Jasperson was +foxey, too. He hung back, said he was going to join the lodge, and +wouldn't indulge in anything stronger than Napa Soda. He had three +rounds of that. Then he was persuaded by Jake Williams to try a glass +of beer, and after that a bumper of strong, fruity port--the pure +juice of the Californian grape. That warmed him up! At a quarter to +six he took his first drink of whisky, and then the evil spirits of +all the devils who manufacture it seemed to possess him. In less than +half-an-hour he was the centre of a howling crowd, and none howled +louder than he. He set up the drinks again and again. I tried to drag +him away, and failed miserably. I'll be hanged if he didn't get hold +of a six-shooter, and threatened to fill me with lead if I interfered. +He told the boys he was going to join the lodge. That was the dominant +note. He was going to join the lodge. He had come to town on purpose. +How they cheered him! Then that scoundrel Jake Williams was inspired +by Satan to ask him if he was provided with an initiation robe. And he +actually persuaded Jasperson to remove his beautiful black clothes and +to array himself in a Sonora blanket. Then they striped his poor white +face with black and red paint, till he looked like an Apache. +Honestly, I did my level best to quash the proceedings: I might as +well have tried to bale out the Pacific with a pitchfork. At a +quarter-past seven the Swiggarts drove into Paradise, and I wish you +could have seen the Grand Secretary's face. She had no idea, +naturally, that her Jasper was the artist so busily engaged in +decorating the village. But she knew there was an awful row on, and I +fancy she rather gloried in her own saintliness. Presently the lodge +filled up, and I could see Miss Birdie standing on the porch looking +anxiously around for the candidate. Finally I felt so sorry for the +girl, that I made up my mind to give her a hint, so that she could +slip quietly away. She greeted me warmly, and said that she supposed +Mr. Jasperson was around 'somewheres,' and I said that he was. Then +she spoke about the riot, and asked if I had seen a number of brutal +cowboys abusing a poor Indian. She told me that her brothers and +sisters inside the lodge were very distressed about it. And as she +talked the yells grew louder, and I was convinced that the candidate +was about to present himself. So I tried to explain the facts. But, +confound it! she was so obtuse--for I couldn't blurt the truth right +out--that, before she caught on, the procession arrived. The catechumen +was seated upon an empty beer-barrel, placed upon a sort of float +dragged by the boys. They had with them a big drum, that terrible +bassoon of Uncle Jake's, and a cornet; the noise was something +terrific. Well, Miss Birdie's a good plucked one! She stood on the +steps and rebuked them. That voice of hers silenced the band. Before +she was through talking you might have heard a pin drop. She rated +them for a quarter of an hour, and all the good people in the lodge +came out to listen and applaud. I was jammed up against her, and +couldn't stir. At the end she invited them to come into the lodge to +see a good man--I quote her verbatim--an upright citizen, a credit to +his country and an ornament to society, take the pledge. When she +stopped, Jasperson began, in that soft, silky voice of his. He thanked +her, and said he was glad to know that he was held in such high +esteem; that he cordially hoped the boys would come in, as he was +paying for the banquet, and that after supper they might expect a real +sociable time! + +"That's all, but it was enough for the Grand Secretary. She gave a +ghastly scream, and keeled over, right into my arms." + +"And where," said I, "is Jasperson?" + +"Jasperson," replied Ajax soberly, "is being removed in a spring-wagon +to his own ranch. To-morrow he will be a very sick man, but I think +I've got him out of his scrape." + + + + +VII + +FIFTEEN FAT STEERS + + +"Uncle Jake says," murmured Ajax, "that Laban Swiggart has been +'milking' us ever since we bought this ranch." + +Laban was our neighbour. A barbed-wire fence divided his sterile hills +from our fertile valleys, and emphasised sharply the difference +between a Government claim and a Spanish grant. The County Assessor +valued the Swiggart ranch at the rate of _one_, and our domain at +_six_ dollars per acre. We owned two leagues of land, our +neighbours but half a section. Yet, in consequence of dry seasons and +low prices, we were hardly able to pay our bills, whereas the +Swiggarts confounded all laws of cause and effect by living in +comparative splendour and luxury. + +"Uncle Jake believes that he stole our steers," continued Ajax, +puffing slowly at his pipe. + +Some two years before we had lost fifteen fat steers. We had employed +Laban to look for them, and he had charged us thirty dollars for +labours that were in vain. + +"Ajax," said I, "we have eaten the Swiggarts' salt, not to mention +their fatted chicks, their pickled peaches, their jams and jellies. +It's an outrage to insinuate, as you do, that these kind neighbours +are common thieves." + +My brother looked quite distressed. "Of course Mrs. Swiggart can know +nothing about it. She is a real good sort; the best wife and mother in +the county. And I'm only quoting Uncle Jake. He says that fifteen +steers at $30 a head make $450. Laban built a barn that spring, and +put up a tank and windmill." + +With this Parthian shot my brother left me to some sorry reflections. +I cordially liked and respected Laban Swiggart and his family. He had +married a Skenk. No name in our county smelled sweeter than Skenk: a +synonym, indeed, for piety, deportment, shell-work, and the preserving +of fruits. The Widow Skenk lived in San Lorenzo, hard by the +Congregational Church; and it was generally conceded that the hand of +one of her daughters in marriage was a certificate of character to the +groom. No Skenk had been known to wed a drunkard, a blasphemer, or an +evil liver. Moreover, Laban had been the first to welcome us--two raw +Englishmen--to a country where inexperience is a sin. He had helped us +over many a stile; he had saved us many dollars. And he had an honest +face. Broad, benignant brows surmounted a pair of keen and kindly +eyes; his nose proclaimed a sense of humour; his mouth and chin were +concealed by a beard almost apostolic in its silky beauty. Could such +a man be a thief? + +The very next day Laban rode down his steep slopes and asked us to +help him and his to eat a Christmas turkey. He said something, too, +about a fine ham, and a "proposition," a money-making scheme, to be +submitted to us after the banquet. + +"Hard times are making you rich," said Ajax. + +"My God!" he exclaimed passionately, "have I not been poor long +enough? Have I not seen my wife and children suffering for want of +proper food and clothing? If prosperity is coming my way, boys, I've +paid the price for it, and don't you forget it." + +His eyes were suffused with tears, and Ajax took note of it. My +brother told me later that so tender a husband and father was +assuredly no cattle-thief. + +Upon Christmas Day we sat at meat for nearly two hours. Mrs. Doctor +Tapper, the wife of the stout dentist of San Miguelito, was present. +Of the three Misses Skenk she had made the best match--from a worldly +point of view. She wore diamonds; she kept two hired girls; she +entertained on a handsome scale, and never failed to invite her less +fortunate sisters to her large and select parties--she was, in a word, +a most superior person, and a devout church-member. To this lady Ajax +made himself mightily agreeable. + +"Now really," said she, "I do wish the doctor was here. He does so +dearly love badinage. That, and bridgework, is his forte." + +"And why isn't he here?" demanded my brother. + +"He's hunting our bay mare. It broke out of the barn this morning. I +told him that I wouldn't disappoint Alviry for an ark full of bay +mares. I knew she would count on me to help her entertain you +gentlemen." + +"I hope your husband will find his mare," said Ajax. "We lost fifteen +fat steers once, but we never found them." + +"That's so," observed Mr. Swiggart. "And I wore myself out a-hunting +'em. They was stolen--sure." + +"The wickedness of some folk passes my understanding," remarked Mrs. +Tapper. "Well, we're told that the triumphing of the wicked is short, +but--good Land!--Job never lived in this State." + +"He'd been more to home in New England," said Laban slily. The Skenks +were from Massachusetts, the Swiggarts from Illinois. + +"There's a pit digged for such," continued Mrs. Tapper, ignoring the +interruption, "a pit full o' brimstone and fire. Yes, sister, I will +take one more slice of the ham. I never ate sweeter meat. Eastern, I +presume, my dear?" + +"No, sister. Laban cured that ham. Pork-packing was his trade back +east." + +Laban added: "Boys, I hope ye like that ham. I've a reason for +asking." + +We assured our host that the ham was superlatively good. Mince and +pumpkin pies followed, coffee, then grace. As we rose from the table, +Laban said pleasantly, "Boys, here are some imported cigars. We'll +smoke outside." + +Having, so to speak, soaped the ways, Mr. Swiggart launched his +"proposition." He wished to pack bacon. Hogs, he pointed out, were +selling at two cents a pound; bacon and hams at twelve and fifteen +cents. We had some two hundred and fifty hogs ready for market. These +Laban wanted to buy on credit. He proposed to turn them into lard, +hams, and bacon, to sell the same to local merchants (thereby saving +cost of transportation), and to divide the profits with us after the +original price of the hogs was paid. This seemed a one-sided bargain. +He was to do all the work; we should, in any case, get the market +price for the hogs, while the profits were to be divided. However, our +host explained that we took all the risk. If the bacon spoiled he +would not agree to pay us a cent. With the taste of that famous ham in +our mouths, this contingency seemed sufficiently remote; and we said +as much. + +"Well, I could rob ye right and left. Ye've got to trust me, and +there's a saying: 'To trust is to bust.'" + +He was so candid in explaining the many ways by which an unscrupulous +man might take advantage of two ignorant Britons, that Ajax, not +relishing the personal flavour of the talk, rose and strolled across +to the branding-corral. When he returned he was unusually silent, and, +riding home, he said thoughtfully: "I saw Laban's brand this +afternoon. It is 81, and the 8 is the same size as our S. His ear-mark +is a crop, which obliterates our swallow-fork. Queer--eh?" + +"Not at all," I replied indignantly. "It's a social crime to eat, as +you did to-day, three large helpings of turkey, and then----" + +"Bosh!" he interrupted. "If Laban is an honest man, no harm has been +done. If he stole our steers--and, mind you, I don't say he did--three +slices off the breast of a turkey will hardly offset my interest in +five tons of beef. As for this packing scheme, it sounds promising; +but we lack figures. To-morrow we will drive into San Lorenzo, and +talk to the Children of Israel. If Ikey Rosenbaum says that bacon is +likely to rise or stay where it is, we will accept Laban's +proposition." + +The following morning we started early. The short cut to San Lorenzo +lay through the Swiggart claim, and the road passed within a few yards +of the house. We saw Mrs. Swiggart on the verandah, and offered to +execute any commissions that she cared to entrust to two bachelors. In +reply she said that she hated to ask favours, but--if we were going to +town in a two-seater, would we be so very kind as to bring back her +mother, Mrs. Skenk, who was ailing, and in need of a change. +"Gran'ma's hard on the springs," observed Euphemia, Mrs. Swiggart's +youngest girl, "but she'll tell you more stories than you can shake a +stick at; not 'bout fairies, Mr. Ajax, but reel folks." We assured +Mrs. Swiggart that we should esteem it a pleasure to give her mother a +lift. Ajax had met the old lady at a church social some six months +before, and, finding her a bonanza of gossip, had extracted some rich +and curious ore. + +In San Lorenzo we duly found Isaac Rosenbaum, who proved an optimist +on the subject of bacon. Indeed, he chattered so glibly of rising +prices and better times that the packing scheme was immediately +referred to his mature judgment; and he not only recommended it +heartily, but offered to handle our "stuff" on commission, or to buy +it outright if it proved marketable. According to Ikey the conjunction +"if" could not be ignored. Packing bacon beneath the sunny skies of +Southern California was a speculation, he said. Swiggart, he added, +ought to know what good hams were, for he bought the very best Eastern +brand. + +"What!" we cried simultaneously, "does Mr. Swiggart _buy_ hams?" + +Yes; it seemed that only a few days previously Laban had carefully +selected the choicest ham in the store. + +Ajax clutched my arm, and we fled. + +"We have convicted the wretch," he said presently. + +"The _wretches_," I amended. + +The use of the plural smote him in the face. + +"This is awful," he groaned. "Why, when you were away last summer, and +I broke my leg, she nursed me like a mother." + +"Women throw such sops to a barking conscience." + +I was positive now that Laban had stolen the steers, and that his wife +was privy to the theft. The lie about the ham had been doubtless +concocted for purposes of plunder. The kindness and hospitality of our +neighbours had been, after all, but a snare for tenderfeet. + +* * * * * + +We found Mrs. Skenk--whom we had seen on arrival--sitting on her front +porch, satchel in hand, patiently awaiting us. Ajax helped her to +mount--no light task, for she was a very heavy and enfeebled woman. I +drove. As we trotted down the long straggling street our passenger +spoke with feeling of the changes that had taken place in the old +mission town. + +"I've lived here thirty years. Twenty mighty hard ones as a married +woman; and ten tol'able easy ones as a widder. Mr. Skenk was a saintly +man, but tryin' to live with on account o' deefness and the azmy. I +never see a chicken took with the gapes but I think o' Abram Skenk. +Yes, Mr. Ajax, my daughters was all born here, 'ceptin' Alviry. She +was born in Massachusetts. It did make a difference to the child. As a +little girl she kep' herself to herself. And though I'd rather cut out +my tongue than say a single word against Laban Swiggart, I do feel +that he'd no business to pick the best in the basket. Favourite? No, +sir; but I've said, many a time, that if Alviry went to her long home, +I could not tarry here. Most women feel that way about the first-born. +I've told Alviry to her face as she'd ought to have said 'No' to Laban +Swiggart. Oh, the suffering that dear child has endured! It did seem +till lately as if horse-tradin', cattle-raisin', and the butcher +business was industries against which the Lord had set his face. Sairy +married an undertaker; Samanthy _couldn't_ refuse Doctor Tapper. +And, rain or shine, folks must have teeth if they want to eat the +steaks they sell in Californy, and likewise they must have caskets +when their time comes. Yes, Alviry does take after me, Mr. Ajax. +You're reel clever to say so. She ain't a talker, but brainy. You've +seen her wax flowers? Yes; and the shell table with 'Bless our Home' +on it, in pink cowries? Mercy sakes! There's a big storm a'comin' up." + +The rain began to fall as she spoke; at first lightly, then more +heavily as we began to cross the mountains. Long before we came to the +Salinas River it was pouring down in torrents--an inch of water to the +hour. + +"It's a cloud-burst," said Mrs. Skenk, from beneath a prehistoric +umbrella. "This'll flush the creeks good." + +I whipped up the horses, thinking of the Salinas and its treacherous +waters. In California, when the ground is well sodden, a very small +storm will create a very big freshet. At such times most rivers are +dangerous to ford on account of quicksands. + +"I'll guess we'll make it," observed the old lady. "I've crossed when +it was bilin' from bank to bank. I mind me when Jim Tarburt was +drowned: No 'count, Jim. He'd no more sense than a yaller dog. 'Twas a +big streak o' luck for his wife and babies, for Susannah Tarburt +married old man Hopping, and when he died the very next year she was +left rich. Then there was that pore thin school-marm, Ireen Bunker. +She--" + +And Mrs. Skenk continued with a catalogue, long as that of the ships +in the _Iliad_, of travellers who, in fording the Salinas, had +crossed that other grim river which flows for ever between time and +eternity. We had reached the banks before she had drained her memory +of those who had perished. + +"'Tis bilin'," she muttered, as she peered up and down the yellow, +foam-speckled torrent that roared defiance at us; "but, good Land! we +can't go around now. Keep the horses' noses upstream, young man, and +use your whip." + +We plunged in. + +What followed took place quickly. In mid-stream the near horse +floundered into a quicksand and fell, swinging round the pole, and +with it the off horse. I lashed the poor struggling beasts +unmercifully, but the wagon settled slowly down--inch by inch. Death +grinned us in the teeth. Then I heard Mrs. Skenk say, quite +collectedly: "'Tis my fault, and my weight." Then Ajax roared out: +"For God's sake, sit down, ma'am, sit down. SIT DOWN!" he screamed, +his voice shrill above the bellowing, booming waters. A crash behind +told me that he had flung her back into her seat. At the same moment +the near horse found a footing; there was a mighty pull from both the +terrified animals, the harness held, and the danger was over. When we +reached the bank I looked round. Mrs. Skenk was smiling; Ajax was +white as chalk. + +"She w-w-would have s-s-sacrificed her l-l-life," he stammered. "If I +hadn't grabbed her, she would be dead this minute." + +"I reckon that's so," assented our passenger. "I took a notion to +jump. My weight and fool advice was like to cost three lives. Better +one, thinks I, than three. You saved my life, Mr. Ajax. Yes, you did. +Alviry, I reckon, will thank you." + +The rest of the journey was accomplished in silence. We drove up to +the Swiggarts' house, and both Laban and his wife expressed great +surprise at seeing us. + +"You're wet through, mother," said Mrs. Swiggart, "and all of a +tremble." + +"Yes, Alviry, I've had a close call. This young man saved my life." + +"Nonsense," said Ajax gruffly. "I did nothing of the sort, Mrs. +Skenk." + +"Yes, you did," she insisted, grimly obstinate. + +"Any ways," said Mrs. Swiggart, "you'll lose what has been saved, +mother, if you stand there in the rain." + +For five days it rained steadily. Our creek, which for eleven months +in the year bleated sweetly at the foot of the garden, bellowed loudly +as any bull of Bashan, and kept us prisoners in the house, where we +had leisure to talk and reflect. We had been robbed and humbugged, +injured in pride and pocket, but the lagging hours anointed our +wounds. Philosophy touched us with healing finger. + +"If we prosecute we advertise our own greenness," said Ajax. "After +all, if Laban did fleece us, he kept at bay other ravening wolves. And +there is Mrs. Skenk. That plucky old soul must never hear the story. +It would kill her." + +So we decided to charge profit and loss with five hundred dollars, and +to keep our eyes peeled for the future. By this time the skies had +cleared, and the cataract was a creek again. The next day Mrs. +Swiggart drove up to the barn, tied her horse to the hitching-post, +and walked with impressive dignity up the garden path. We had time to +note that something was amiss. Her dark eyes, beneath darker brows, +intensified a curious pallor--that sickly hue which is seen upon the +faces of those who have suffered grievously in mind or body. Ajax +opened the door, and offered her a chair, but not his hand. She did +not seem to notice the discourtesy. We asked if her mother had +suffered from the effects of her wetting. + +"Mother has been very sick," she replied, in a lifeless voice. "She's +been at death's door. For five days I've prayed to Almighty God, and I +swore that if He'd see fit to spare mother, I'd come down here, and on +my bended knees"--she sank on the floor--"ask for your forgiveness as +well as His. Don't come near me," she entreated; "let me say what must +be said in my own way. When I married Laban Swiggart I was an honest +woman, though full o' pride and conceit. And he was an honest man. To- +day we're thieves and liars." + +"Mrs. Swiggart," said Ajax, springing forward and raising her to her +feet. "You must not kneel to us. There--sit down and say no more. We +know all about it, and it's blotted out so far as we're concerned." + +Her sobs--the vehement, heart-breaking sobs of a man rather than of a +woman--gradually ceased. She continued in a softer voice: "It began +'way back, when I was a little girl. Mother set me on a pedestal; +p'r'aps I'd ought to say I set myself there. It's like me to be +blaming mother. Anyways, I just thought myself a little mite cleverer +and handsomer and better than the rest o' the family. I aimed to beat +Sarah and Samanthy at whatever they undertook, and Satan let me do it. +Well, I did one good thing. I married a poor man because I loved him. +I said to myself, 'He has brains, and so have I. The dollars will +come.' But they didn't come. The children came. + +"Then Sarah and Samanthy married. They married men o' means, and the +gall and wormwood entered into my soul, and ate it away. Laban was +awful good. He laughed and worked, but we couldn't make it. Times was +too hard. I'd see Samanthy trailin' silks and satins in the dust, and +--and my underskirts was made o' flour sacks. Yes--flour sacks! And me a +Skenk!" + +She paused. Neither Ajax nor I spoke. Comedy lies lightly upon all +things, like foam upon the dark waters. Beneath are tragedy and the +tears of time. + +"Then you gentlemen came and bought land. They said you was lords, +with money to burn. I told Laban to help you in the buyin' o' horses, +and cattle, and barb-wire, and groceries. He got big commissions, but +he kept off the other blood-suckers. We paid some of our debts, and +Laban bought me a black silk gown. I couldn't rest till Samanthy had +felt of it. She'd none better. If we'd only been satisfied with that! + +"Well, that black silk made everything else look dreadful mean. 'Twas +then you spoke to Laban about choosin' a brand. Satan put it into my +head to say--S. It scart Laban. He was butcherin' then, and he +surmised what I was after; I persuaded him 'twas for the children's +sake. The first steer paid for Emanuel's baby clothes and cradle. They +was finer than what Sarah bought for her child. Then we killed the +others--one by one. Laban let 'em through the fence and then clapped +our brand a-top o' yours. They paid for the tank and windmill. After +that we robbed you when and where we could. We put up that bacon +scheme meanin' to ship the stuff to the city and to tell you that it +had spoiled on us. We robbed none else, only you. And we actually +justified ourselves. We surmised 'twas fittin' that Britishers should +pay for the support o' good Americans." + +"I've read some of your histories," said Ajax drily, "and can +understand that point of view." + +"Satan fools them as fool themselves, Mr. Ajax. But the truth struck +me and Laban when we watched by mother. She was not scared o' death. +And she praised me to Laban, and said that I'd chosen the better part +in marryin' a poor man for love, and that money hadn't made Christian +women of Sarah and Samanthy. She blamed herself, dear soul, for +settin' store overly much on dollars and cents. And she said she could +die easier thinking that what was good in her had passed to me, and +not what was evil. And, Mr. Ajax, that talk just drove me and Laban +crazy. Well, mother ain't going to die, and we ain't neither--till +we've paid back the last cent, we stole from you. Laban has figgered +it out, principal and interest, and he's drawn a note for fifteen +hundred dollars, which we've both signed. Here it is." + +She tendered us a paper. Ajax stuck his hands into his pockets, and I +did the same. + +She misinterpreted the action. "You ain't going to prosecute?" she +faltered. + +Ajax nodded to me. Upon formal occasions he expects me, being the +elder, to speak. If I say more or less than he approves I am severely +taken to task. + +"Mrs. Swiggart," I began, lamely enough, "I am sure that your husband +can cure hams----" + +Ajax looked at me indignantly. With the best of motives I had given a +sore heart a grievous twist. + +"We bought that ham," she said sadly, "a-purpose." + +"No matter. We have decided to go into this packing business with your +husband. When--er--experience goes into partnership with ignorance, +ignorance expects to pay a premium. We have paid our premium." + +She rose, and we held out our hands. + +"No, gentlemen; I won't take your hands till that debt is cancelled. +The piano and the team will go some ways towards it. Good-bye, and-- +thank you." + + + + +VIII + +AN EXPERIMENT + + +My brother and I had just ridden off the range, when Uncle Jake told +us that a tramp was hanging about the corrals and wished to speak with +us. + +"He looks like hell," concluded Uncle Jake. + +We found him, a minute later, curled up on a heap of straw on the +shady side of our big barn. He got up as we approached, and stared at +us with a curious derisive intentness of glance, slightly +disconcerting. + +"You are Englishmen," he said quietly. + +The man's voice was charming, with that unmistakable quality which +challenges attention even in Mayfair, and enthrals it in the +wilderness. We nodded, and he continued easily: "It is late, and some +twenty-six miles, so I hear, to the nearest town. May I spend the +night in your barn. I don't smoke--in barns." + +While he was speaking, we had time to examine him. His appearance was +inexpressibly shocking. Dirty, with a ragged six weeks' growth of dark +hair upon his face, out at heel and elbows, shirtless and shiftless, +he seemed to have reached the nadir of misery and poverty. Obviously +one of the "broken brigade," he had seemingly lost everything except +his manners. His amazing absence of self-consciousness made a clown of +me. I blurted out a gruff "All right," and turned on my heel, unable +to face the derisive smile upon the thin, pale lips. As I walked +towards the house, I heard Ajax following me, but he did not speak +till we had reached our comfortable sitting-room. Then, as gruffly as +I, he said, "Humpty Dumpty--after the fall!" + +We lit our pipes in silence, sensible of an extraordinary depression +in the moral atmosphere. Five minutes before we had been much elated. +The spring round-up of cattle was over; we had sold our bunch of +steers at the top price; the money lay in our small safe; we had been +talking of a modest celebration as we rode home over the foothills. +Now, to use the metaphor of a cow county, we had been brought up with +a sharp turn! Our prosperity, measured by the ill-fortune of a fellow- +countryman, dwindled. Ajax summed up the situation: "He made me feel +cheap." + +"Why?" I asked, conscious of a similar feeling. Ajax smoked and +reflected. + +"It's like this," he answered presently. "That chap has been to the +bottom of the pit, but he bobs up with a smile. Did you notice his +smile?" + +I rang the bell for Quong, our Chinese servant. When he came in I told +him to prepare a hot bath. Ajax whistled; but as Quong went away, +looking rather cross, my brother added, "Our clothes will fit him." + +The bath-house was outside. Quong carried in a couple of pails full of +boiling water; we laid out shaving tackle, an old suit of grey +flannel, a pair of brown shoes, and the necessary under-linen. A blue +bird's-eye tie, I remember, was the last touch. Then Ajax shrugged his +shoulders and said significantly, "You know what this means?" + +"Rehabilitation." + +"Exactly. It may be fun for us to rig out this poor devil, but we must +do more than feed and clothe him. Have you thought of that?" + +I had not, and said so. + +"This is an experiment. First and last, we're going to try to raise a +man from the dead. If we get him on to his pins, we'll have to supply +some crutches. Are you prepared to do that?" + +"If you are." + +"Right! Of course, he may refuse our help. It wouldn't surprise me a +little bit if he did refuse." + +When our preparations were complete, we returned to the barn. In a few +words Ajax told the stranger of what had been done. + +"After supper," he concluded, "we'll talk things over. Times are +rather good just now, and something can be arranged." + +"You're very kind," replied the tramp; "but I think you had better +leave me in the barn." + +"We can't," said my brother. "It's too beastly to think of you like +this." + +Nevertheless, we had to argue the matter, and I ought to add that +although we prevailed in the end, both Ajax and I were aware that the +man's acceptance of what we offered imposed an obligation upon us +rather than upon him. As he was about to enter the bath-house, he +turned with the derisive smile on his lips-- + +"If it amuses you," he murmured, "I shall have earned my bath and +supper." + +When he reappeared, nobody would have recognised him. So far, the +experiment had succeeded beyond expectation. A new man walked into our +sitting-room and glanced with intelligent interest at our household +gods. Over the mantel-piece hung an etching of the Grand Canal at +Venice. He surveyed it critically, putting up a pair of thin hands, as +so to shut off an excess of light. + +"Jimmie Whistler taught that fellow a trick or two," he remarked. + +"You knew Whistler?" + +"Oh yes." + +We left him with _Punch_ and a copy of an art journal. Ajax said +to me, as we went back to the barn-- + +"I'll bet he's an artist of sorts." + +It happened that we had in our cellar some fine claret; a few magnums +of Leoville, '74, a present from a millionaire friend. We never drank +it except upon great occasions. Ajax suggested a bottle of this +elixir, not entirely out of charity. Such tipple would warm a graven +image into speech, and my brother is inordinately curious. Our guest +had nothing to give to us except his confidence, and that he had +withheld. + +We decanted the claret very carefully. As soon as our guest tasted it, +he sighed and said quietly-- + +"I never expected to taste that again. It's Leoville, isn't it? And in +exquisite condition." + +He sipped the wine in silence, while I thought of the bundle of foul +rags upon our rubbish heap. Ajax was talking shop, describing with +some humour our latest deal, and the present high price of fat steers. +Our guest listened politely, and when Ajax paused, he said +ironically-- + +"Yours is a gospel of hard work. I dare say you have ridden two horses +to a standstill to-day? Just so. I can't ride, or plough, or dig." + +Ajax opened his lips to reply, and closed them. Our guest smiled. + +"You are wondering what brought me to California. As a matter of fact, +a private car. No, thanks, no more claret." + +Later, we hoped he might melt into confidence over tobacco and toddy. +He smoked one cigar slowly, and with evident appreciation; and, as he +smoked, he stroked the head of Conan, our Irish setter, an ultra- +particular person, who abominated tramps and strangers. + +"Conan likes you," said Ajax abruptly. + +"Is that his name? 'Conan,' eh? Good Conan, good dog!" Presently, he +threw away the stub of his cigar and crossed to a small mirror. With a +self-possession rather surprising, he began to examine himself. + +"I am renewing acquaintance," he explained gravely, "with a man I have +not seen for some months." + +"By what name shall we call that man?" said Ajax boldly. + +There was a slight pause, and then our guest said quietly-- + +"Would 'Sponge' do? 'Soapy Sponge'!" + +"No," said my brother. + +"My father's Christian name was John. Call me 'Johnson.'" + +Accordingly, we called him Johnson for the rest of the evening. While +the toddies were being consumed, Johnson observed the safe, a purchase +of my brother's, in which we kept our papers and accounts and any +money we might have. We had bought it, second-hand, and the vendor +assured us it was quite burglar-proof. Ajax mentioned this to our +guest. He laughed presently. + +"No safe is burglar-proof," he said; "and most certainly not that +one." He continued in a slightly different tone: "I suppose you are +not imprudent enough to keep money in it. I mean gold. On a big, +lonely ranch like this all your money affairs should be transacted +with cheques." + +"We are in the wilds," said Ajax, "and it may surprise you to learn +that not so very long ago the Spanish-Californians who owned most of +the land kept thousands of pounds in gold slugs. In the attic over +this old 'adobe,' Don Juan Soberanes, from whom we bought this ranch, +kept his cash in gold dust and slugs in a clothes-basket. His nephew +used to take a tile off the roof, drop a big lump of tallow attached +to a cord into the basket, and scoop up what he could. The man who +bought our steers yesterday has no dealings with banks. He paid us in +Uncle Sam's notes." + +"Did he?" + +Shortly afterwards we went to bed. As our guest turned into the spare +room, he said whimsically-- + +"Have I entertained you? You have entertained me." + +Ajax held out his hand. Johnson hesitated a moment--I recalled his +hesitation afterwards--and then extended his hand, a singularly +slender, well-formed member. + +"You have the hand of an artist," said the ever-curious Ajax. + +"The most beautiful hand I ever saw," replied Johnson imperturbably, +"belonged to a--thief. Good-night." + +Ajax frowned, turning down the corners of his lips in exasperation. + +"I am eaten up with curiosity," he growled. + +* * * * * + +Next morning we routed out an old kit-bag, into which we packed a few +necessaries. When we insisted upon Johnson accepting this, he shrugged +his shoulders and turned the palms of his hands upwards, as if to show +their emptiness. + +"Why do you do this?" he asked, with a certain indescribable +peremptoriness. + +Ajax answered simply-- + +"A man must have clean linen. In the town you are going to, a boiled +shirt is a credential. I should like to give you a letter to the +cashier of the bank. He is a Britisher, and a good fellow. You are not +strong enough for such work as we might offer you, but he will find +you a billet." + +"You positively overwhelm me," said Johnson. "You must be lineally +descended from the Good Samaritan." + +Ajax wrote the letter. A neighbour was driving in to town, as we knew, +and I had arranged early that morning for our guest's transportation. + +"And what am I to do in return for these favours?" Johnson demanded. + +"Let us hear from you," said my brother. + +"You shall," he replied. + +Within half an hour Johnson had vanished in a buckboard and a cloud of +fine white dust. + +Upon the following afternoon I made an alarming discovery. Our +burglar-proof safe had been opened, and the roll of notes was missing. +I sought Ajax and told him. He allowed one word only to escape his +lips-- + +"Johnson!" + +"What tenderfeet we are!" I groaned. + +"Lineal descendants of the Good Samaritan. Well, he has had a long +start, but we must catch him." + +"If it should not be--Johnson?" + +"Conan would have nailed anybody else." + +This was unanswerable, for Conan guarded our safe whenever there was +anything in it worth guarding. Ajax never is so happy as when he can +prove himself a prophet. + +"I said he was an artist," he remarked. "The truth is, we tried an +experiment upon the wrong man." + +A few minutes later we took the road. We had not gone very far, +however, before we met the neighbour who had driven Johnson to town. +He pulled up and greeted us. + +"Boys," said he. "I've a note for ye from that Britisher." + +We took the note, but we did not open it till our Californian friend +had disappeared. We had been butchered, but as yet the abominable fact +that a compatriot had skinned us was something we wished to keep to +ourselves. + +"Great Minneapolis!" said Ajax. "Look at this!" + +I saw a bank receipt for the exact sum which represented our bunch of +steers. + +"Is that all?" I asked. + +Ajax ought to have shouted for joy, but he answered with a groan. + +"Yes; there isn't a line of explanation. He said we should hear from +him." + +"And we have," I replied. + +We returned to the ranch very soberly. When Ajax placed the bank +receipt in the safe, he kicked that solid piece of furniture. + +"We'll drive in comfortably to-morrow, and find out what we can," he +observed. + +"I don't think we shall find Johnson," I murmured. + +Nor did we. The cashier testified to receiving the roll of notes, but +not the letter of introduction. We hunted high and low for Johnson; +but he was not. + +"How did he get away without money?" he asked. + +"He had money. I stuck a twenty-dollar bill into his coat pocket." + +Before leaving town, we visited our gunmaker, with the intention of +ordering some cartridges. By the merest chance, he spoke of Johnson. + +"A Britisher was in here yesterday: somethin' o' the cut o' you boys." + +"In a grey suit with a brown sombrero?" + +"Sure enough." + +"Did he buy cartridges?" + +"He bought a six-shooter and a few cartridges." + +"Oh!" said Ajax. + +We found ourselves walking towards a secluded lot at the back of the +Old Mission Church. Ajax asked me for an opinion which I was too dazed +to express. + +"We've done a silly thing, and perhaps a wicked thing," said my +brother. "If that poor devil is lying dead in the brush-hills, I shall +never forgive myself. We've given a starving man too heavy a meal." + +"Bosh!" said I, believing every word he uttered--the echo, indeed, of +my own thoughts. "I feel in my bones we are going to see Johnson +again." + +Twenty-four hours later we heard of him. The Santa Barbara stage had +been held up by one man. It happened, however, that a remarkably bold +and fearless driver was on the box. The stage had been stopped upon +the top of a hill, but not exactly on the crest of it. The driver +testified that the would-be robber had leaped out of a clump of +manzanita, just as the heavy, lumbering coach was beginning to roll +down the steep hill in front of it. To pull up at such a moment was +difficult. The driver saw his chance and took it. He lashed the +leaders and charged straight at the highwayman, who jumped aside to +avoid being run over, and then, being a-foot, abandoned his +enterprise. He was wearing a mask fashioned out of a gunny-sack, new +overalls, and _brown_ shoes! That same night, at Los Olivos, a +man wearing brown shoes was arrested by a deputy sheriff because he +refused to give a proper account of himself; but, on being searched, a +letter to the cashier of the San Lorenzo bank, signed (so ran the +paragraph) by a well-known and responsible Englishman, was found in +the pocket of his coat. Whereupon he was allowed to go his ways, with +many apologies from the over-zealous official. + +"Johnson!" said Ajax. + +"Did he hold up the stage?" I asked. + +"Of course he did" replied my brother contemptuously. + +After this incident, Johnson, who for a brief time had loomed so large +in our imaginations, faded into a sort of wraith. Years passed, +bringing with them great changes for me. I left California and settled +in England. I wrote a book which excited a certain amount of interest, +and inspired some of my old school-fellows to renew acquaintance with +me. By this time I had forgotten Johnson. He was part of a distant +country, where the fine white dust settles thickly upon all things and +persons. In England, where the expected, so to speak, comes to five +o'clock tea, such surprising individuals as Johnson appear--if they +ever do appear--as creatures of a disordered fancy or digestive +apparatus. Once I told the story at the Scribblers' Club to a couple +of journalists. They winked at each other, and said politely that I +spun a good yarn, for an amateur! "I never tell a story," said the +elder of my critics, "till I've worked out a climax. You leave us at +the top of a confounded hill in California, bang up in the clouds." + +And then the climax flitted into sight, masquerading as a barrel of +claret. The claret came from Bordeaux. It was Leoville Poyferre, 1899. +Not a line of explanation came with it, but all charges were prepaid. +I wrote to the shippers. A Monsieur had bought the wine and ordered it +to be consigned to me. Readers of this story will say that I ought to +have thought of Johnson. I didn't. I thanked effusively half a dozen +persons in turn, who had not sent the claret; then, hopelessly +befogged, I had the wine bottled. + +However, Johnson sent the wine, for he told me so. I had been passing +a few days at Blois, and was staring at the Fragonard which hangs in +the gallery of the chateau, when a languid voice said, "This is the +best thing here." + +"Hullo, Johnson!" I exclaimed. + +"Hullo!" said he. + +He had recognised me first, and addressed the remark about the picture +to me. Nobody else was near us. We shook hands solemnly, eyeing each +other, noting the changes. Johnson appeared to be prosperous, but +slightly Gallicised. + +"How is--Ajax?" he murmured. + +"Ajax has grown fat. Can't you dine with me?" + +"It's my turn. We must order a bottle of Leoville at once." + +"You sent that wine," I exclaimed. There was no note of interrogation +in my voice. I knew. + +"Yes," he said indifferently; "it will be worth drinking in about ten +years' time." + +We had an admirable dinner upon a terrace overhanging the Loire, but +the measure of my enjoyment was stinted by Johnson's exasperating +reticence concerning himself. He talked delightfully of the chateaux +in Touraine; he displayed an intimate knowledge of French history and +archaeology, but I was tingling with impatience to transport myself +and him to California. And he knew this--the rogue! + +Finally, as the soft silvery twilight encompassed us, he told what I +wanted to know. + +"My father was a manufacturer who married a Frenchwoman. My brothers +have trodden carefully and securely in my father's footsteps. They are +all fairly prosperous--smug, respectable fellows. I resemble my +mother. After Eton and Christ Church I was pitchforked into the family +business. For a time it absorbed my attention. I will tell you why +later. Then, having mastered the really interesting part of it, I grew +bored. I wanted to study art. After several scenes with my father, I +was allowed to go my own way--a pleasant way, too, but it led +downhill, you understand. I spent three winters in Venice. Then my +father died, and I came into a small fortune, which I squandered. My +mother helped me; then she died. My brothers cut me, condemning me as +a Bohemian and a vagabond. I confess that I did take a malicious +pleasure in rubbing their sleek fur the wrong way. Then I crossed the +Atlantic as the guest of an American millionaire. He took me on in his +own car to California. I started a studio in San Francisco--and a life +class. That undid me, I found myself bankrupt. Then I fell desperately +ill. Each day I felt the quicksands engulfing me." + +"But your friends?" I interrupted. + +"My friends? Yes, I had friends; but perhaps you will understand me, +having seen to what depths I fell, that I couldn't bring myself to +apply to my friends. Well, I was at my last gasp when I crawled up to +your barn. I mean morally, for my strength was returning. You and your +brother rode up. By God! I could have killed you!" + +"Killed us?" + +"You looked so fit, so prosperous, and I could read you both, could +see in flaming capitals your pity, your contempt,--aye, and your +disgust that a fellow-Englishman should be festering before your eyes. +I asked for leave to spend the night in your barn, and you said, 'All +right.' All right, when everything was so cruelly, so pitilessly the +other way! Then you came back, taking for granted that I must accept +whatever you offered. I wanted to refuse, but the words stuck in my +throat. I followed you to the bath-house. Was I grateful? Not a bit. I +decided that for your own amusement, and perhaps to staunch your +English pride, which I had offended, you meant to lift a poor devil +out of hell, so as to drop him again into deeper depths when the +comedy was over----" + +"Good heavens! You thought that?" + +"My dear fellow, you write now, don't you? I'm giving you a bit of +psychology--showing you the point of view of the worm writhing beneath +the boot of lordly Man. But, always, I meant to turn, if I got the +chance. I washed myself; I shaved; I slipped into your nice clean +clothes. I'll admit that the warm water removed some encrusted mud +from my mind, but it sharpened rather then obscured my resolution to +make the most of what looked like a last chance. But when you uncorked +that Leoville, shame spoiled it for me." + +"You drank only two glasses, I remember." + +"It brought everything back--everything! If I had had one more glass, +I should have laid myself at your feet, whining and whimpering. The +cigar that I smoked afterwards was poppy and mandragora. Through a +cloud of smoke I saw all the pleasant years that were gone. Again I +weakened. I had aroused your interest. I could have sponged upon you +indefinitely. At that moment I saw the safe. Your brother imprudently +mentioned that a large sum of money lay inside it. I made up my mind +instantly to take the money, and did so that night. The dog was +licking my hand as I robbed you. But next morning----" + +He paused, then he laughed lightly. "Next morning----" + +"You appeared with the kit-bag! That disconcerted me terribly. It +proved what I had not perceived--that you two young Englishmen, +tenderfeet both of you, had realised what you were doing, had +seriously faced the responsibility of resurrecting the dead. The +letter to the cashier, the twenty-dollar bill I found in my coat- +pocket--these were as scorpions. But I hadn't the nerve to own up. So +I carried the money to the bank and deposited it to your account." + +"Then you bought a six-shooter." + +"Yes; I meant to try another world. I had had enough of this one. I +couldn't go back to my wallow." + +"What restrained you?" + +"The difficulty of finding a hiding-place. If my body were discovered, +I knew that it would be awful for you." + +"Thanks." + +"It's easy to find a hole, but it's not easy to pull a hole in after +one--eh? Still, I thought I should find some wild gulch on the Santa +Barbara trail, amongst those God-forsaken foothills. The buzzards +would pull the hole in within forty-eight hours." + +"Ah! the buzzards." I shivered, seeing once more those grim sextons of +the Pacific seaboard. + +"I found the right place; and just then I saw the stage crawling up +the grade. Immediately the excitement of a new sensation gripped me. I +had a taste of it when I opened your safe. It seized me again, +relentlessly. If I were successful, I might begin again; if I failed, +I could shoot myself without imposing an atrocious remorse upon you. +Well, the pluck of that driver upset my plans--the plans of an +amateur. I ought to have held them up on the upgrade." + +"And after you failed----" + +"Ah! after I failed I had a lucid interval. Don't laugh! I was hungry +and thirsty. The most pressing need of my nature at that moment was a +square meal. I walked to a hotel, and was nailed. Your brother's +letter to the cashier saved me. I realised dimly that I had become +respectable, that I looked--for the deputy sheriff told me so--an +English gentleman--Mr. Johnson, your friend. That's about all." + +"All?" I echoed, in dismay. + +"The rest is so commonplace. I got a small job as clerk in a fruit- +packing house. It led to better things. I suppose I am my father's +son. I failed to make a living, spoiling canvas, but as a business man +I have been a mild success." + +"And what are you doing now?" + +"I buy and sell claret. Any other question?" + +"Yes. How did you open our burglar-proof safe?" + +Johnson laughed. + +"My father was a manufacturer of safes," he answered. "I know the +tricks of my trade." + + + + +IX + +UNCLE JAP'S LILY + + +Jaspar Panel owned a section of rough, hilly land to the north-east of +Paradise. Everybody called him Uncle Jap. He was very tall, very thin, +with a face burnt a brick red by exposure to sun and wind, and, born +in Massachusetts, he had marched as a youth with Sherman to the sea. +After the war he married, crossed the plains in a "prairie schooner," +and, eventually, took up six hundred and forty acres of Government +land in San Lorenzo County. With incredible labour, inspired and +sustained by his natural acuteness, he wrought a miracle upon a +singularly arid and sterile soil. I have been told that he was the +first of the foothill settlers to irrigate abundantly, the first to +plant out an orchard and vineyard, the first, certainly, to create a +garden out of a sage-brush desert. Teamsters hauling wheat from the +Carisa plains used to stop to shake the white alkaline dust from their +overalls under Uncle Jap's fig trees. They and the cowboys were always +made welcome. To such guests Uncle Jap would offer figs, water-melons, +peaches, a square meal at noon, and exact nothing in return except +appreciation. If a man failed to praise Uncle Jap's fruit or his +wife's sweet pickles, he was not pressed to "call again." The old +fellow was inordinately proud of his colts, his Poland-China pigs, his +"graded" bull, his fountain in the garden. + +"Nice place you have, Mr. Panel," a stranger might say. + +"Yas; we call it Sunny Bushes. Uster be nothin' but sun an' bushes +onst. It's nice, yas, and it's paid for." + +"What a good-looking mare!" + +"Yas; she's paid for, too." + +Everything on the ranch, animal, vegetable, and mineral, was "paid +for." Uncle Jap was the last man to hurt anybody's feelings, but the +"paid for" rankled on occasion, for some of his visitors stood +perilously near the edge of bankruptcy, and, as a rule, had not paid +for either the land they occupied, or the cattle they branded, or the +clothes they wore. To understand this story you must grasp the fact +that Uncle Jap lived with credit and not on it. + +His wife, also of New England parentage, had a righteous horror of +debt bred in her bone. Uncle Jap adored her. If he set an extravagant +value upon his other possessions, what price above rubies did he place +upon the meek, silent, angular woman, who had been his partner, +companion, and friend for more than a quarter of a century. Sun and +wind had burnt her face, also, to the exact tint of her husband's. Her +name was Lily. + +"And, doggone it, she looks like a lily," Uncle Jap would say, in +moments of expansion. "Tall an' slim, yas, an' with a little droop of +her head. I'd ought ter be grateful to God fer givin' me sech a flower +outer heaven--an' I am, I am. Look at her now! What a mover!" + +Uncle Jap's Lily chasing a hen certainly exhibited an activity +surprising in one of her years. By a hairbreadth she missed +perfection. Uncle Jap had been known to hint, nothing more, that he +would have liked a dozen or so of babies. The hint took concrete form +in: "I think a heap o' young things, colts, kittens, puppies--an' the +like." Then he would sigh. + +We came to California in the eighties, and in '93, if my memory serves +me, Uncle Jap discovered bituminous rock in a corner of his ranch. He +became very excited over this find, and used to carry samples of ore +in his pocket which he showed to the neighbours. + +"There's petroleum whar that ore is--_sure_. An' ef I could +strike it, boys, why, why I'd jest hang my Lily with di'monds from her +head to her feet, I would." + +This, mind you, was before the discovery of the now famous oil fields. +Even in those early days experts were of opinion that oil might be +found below the croppings of bituminous rock by any pioneer +enterprising enough to bore for it. + +About this time we began to notice that Uncle Jap was losing interest +in his ranch. Cattle strayed through the fence because he neglected to +mend it, calves escaping were caught and branded by unscrupulous +neighbours, a colt was found dead, cast in a deep gulch. + +"What's the matter with Uncle Jap?" we asked, at the May-Day picnic. + +Mrs. Fullalove, a friend of Mrs. Panel, answered the question. + +"I'll tell ye," she said sharply. "Jaspar Panel has gotten a disease +common enough in Californy. He's sufferin' from a dose o' swelled +head." + +Mrs. Panel sprang to her feet. Her face was scarlet; her pale eyes +snapped; the nostrils of her thin nose were dilated. + +"Susan Jane Fullalove," she cried shrilly, "how dare you?" + +Mrs. Fullalove remained calm. + +"It's so, Lily. Yer so thin, I didn't see ye sittin' edgeways, but ye +needn't to ramp an' roar. Yer ranch _is_ flyin' to flinders +because Mr. Panel's tuk a notion that it's a-floatin' on a lake of +ile." + +"An' mebbe it is," replied Mrs. Panel, subsiding. + +Shortly afterwards we heard that Uncle Jap was frequenting saloons, +hanging about the hotels in the county town, hunting, of course, for a +capitalist who would bore for oil on shares, seeking the "angel" with +the dollars who would transport him and his Lily into the empyrean of +millionaires. When he confided as much to us, my brother Ajax +remarked-- + +"Hang it all, Uncle Jap, you've got all you want." + +"That's so. I hev. But Lily----Boys, I don't like ter give her away-- +this is between me an' you--she's the finest in the land, ain't she? +Yas. An' work? Great Minneapolis! Why, work come mighty near robbin' +her of her looks. It did, fer a fact. An' now, she'd ought ter take +things easy, an' hev a good time." + +"She does have a good time." + +"Ajax, yer talkin' through yer hat. What do you know of wimmenfolk? +Not a derned thing. They're great at pretendin'. I dessay you, bein' a +bachelor, think that my Lily kind o' wallers in washin' my ole duds, +an' cookin' the beans and bacon when the thermometer's up to a hundred +in the shade, and doin' chores around the hog pens an' chicken yards? +Wal--she don't. She pretends, fer my sake, but bein' a lady born an' +bred, her mind's naterally set on--silks an' satins, gems, a pianner-- +an' statooary." + +"I can't believe it," said my brother. "Mrs. Panel has always seemed +to me the most sensible woman----" + +"Lady, _if_ you please." + +"I beg pardon--the most sensible lady of my acquaintance, and the most +contented with the little home you've made for her." + +"She helped make it. O' course, it's nateral, you bein' so young an' +innercent, that you should think you know more about Mis' Panel's +inside than I do, but take it from me that she's pined in secret for +what I'm a-goin' ter give her before I turn up my toes." + +With that he rode away on his old pinto horse, smiling softly and +nodding his grizzled head. + +Later, he travelled to San Francisco, where he interviewed presidents +of banks and other magnates. All and sundry were civil to Uncle Jap, +but they refused to look for a needle in a haystack. Uncle Jap +confessed, later, that he was beginning to get "cold feet," as he +expressed it, when he happened to meet an out-of-elbows individual who +claimed positively that he could discover water, gold, or oil, with no +tools or instruments other than a hazel twig. Uncle Jap, who forgot to +ask why this silver-tongued vagabond had failed to discover gold for +himself, returned in triumph to his ranch, bringing with him the +wizard, pledged to consecrate his gifts to the "locating" of the lake +of oil. In return for his services Uncle Jap agreed to pay him fifty +dollars a week, board and lodging included. When he told us of the +bargain he had made, his face shone with satisfaction and confidence. +He chuckled, as he added slyly-- + +"I peeked in to some o' them high-toned joolery stores on Montgomery +and Kearney Streets. Yas, I did. An' I priced what they call a ti- +airy, sort o' di'mond crown. They run up into the thousands o' +dollars. Think o' Mis' Panel in a _ti_-airy, boys; but shush-h-h- +h! Not a word to her--eh?" + +We pledged ourselves to secrecy, but when Uncle Jap's back was turned, +Ajax cursed the wizard as the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims +cursed the jackdaw. When we saw Mrs. Panel, she seemed to be thinner +and more angular, but her lips were firmly compressed, as if she +feared that something better left unsaid might leak from them. An old +sunbonnet flapped about her red, wrinkled face, her hands, red and +wrinkled also, trembled when we inquired after the wizard and his +works. + +"He's located the lake," she replied. Suppressed wrath boiled over, as +she added fiercely: "I wish 'twas a lake o' fire an' brimstone, an' him +a-bilin' in the middle of it." Then, reading the sympathy in our eyes, +she continued quickly: "I ain't denyin' that Jaspar has a right to do +what he pleases with what lies out o' doors. He never interfered with +me in my kitchen, never! Would you gen'lemen fancy a glass o' +lemonade? No? Wal--I'm glad you called in, fer I hev been feelin' kind +o' lonesome lately." + +What Uncle Jap's Lily suffered when he mortgaged all his cattle to +sink a well nobody knows but herself, and she never told. The wizard +indicated a certain spot below the croppings of bituminous rock; a big +derrick was built; iron casing was hauled over the Coast Range; the +well was bored. + +Then, after boring some two thousand feet, operations had to be +suspended, because Uncle Jap's dollars were exhausted, and his +patience. The wizard swore stoutly that the lake was there, millions +and millions of barrels of oil, but he deemed it expedient to leave +the country in a hurry, because Uncle Jap intimated to him in the most +convincing manner that there was not room in it for so colossal a +fraud. The wizard might have argued the question, but the sight of +Uncle Jap's old Navy six-shooter seemed to paralyse his tongue. + +After this incident Uncle Jap ranched with feverish energy, and Mrs. +Fullalove said that the old man had gotten over a real bad dose of +swelled head. + +* * * * * + +Five years later came the oil boom! + +Everybody knows now that it flowed in prodigious quantities into the +vats of one man, whom we shall speak of with the respect which the +billionaire inspires, as the Autocrat of Petroleum. Let us hasten to +add that we shall approach him in the person of his agent, who, so far +as Uncle Jap was concerned, doubtless acted in defiance of the will of +the greatest church builder and philanthropist in the world. + +Oil was struck in pints, quarts, gallons, buckets, and finally in +thousands and tens of thousands of barrels! It flowed copiously in our +cow-county; it greased, so to speak, the wheels--and how ramshackle +some of them were!--of a score of enterprises, it saturated all things +and persons. + +Now, conceive, if you can, the triumphant I-told-you-so-boys +expression of Uncle Jap. He swelled again visibly: head first, then +body and soul. The county kowtowed to him. Speculators tried to buy +his ranch, entreated him to name a price. + +"I'll take half a million dollars, in cold cash," said Uncle Jap. + +The speculators offered him instead champagne and fat cigars. Uncle +Jap refused both. He was not going to be "flimflammed," no, sir! Not +twice in his life, _no, Siree Bob_! He, by the Jumping Frog of +Calaveras, proposed to paddle his own canoe into and over the lake of +oil. If the boys wished him to forgo the delights of that voyage, let +'em pungle up half a million--or get. + +They got. + +Presently, after due consultation with a famous mining engineer, Uncle +Jap mortgaged his cattle for the second time, and sank another well. +He discovered oil sand, not a lake. Then he mortgaged his land, every +stick and stone on it, and sunk three more wells. It was a case of +Bernard Palissy. Was Bernard a married man? I forget. If so, did he +consult his wife before he burnt the one and only bed? Did she +protest? It is a fact that Uncle Jap's Lily did not protest. She +looked on, the picture of misery, and her mouth was a thin line of +silence across her wrinkled impassive countenance. + +When every available cent had been raised and sunk, the oil spouted +out. Who looked at the fountain in the patch of lawn by the old fig +trees? Possibly Mrs. Panel. Not Uncle Jap. He, the most temperate of +men, became furiously drunk on petroleum. He exuded it from every +pore. Of course he was acclaimed by the county and the State (the +Sunday editions published his portrait) as the star-spangled epitome +of Yankee grit and get-there. + +At this point we must present, with apologies, the agent of the +Autocrat, _the_ agent, the High-muck-a-muck of the Pacific Slope, +with a salary of a hundred thousand a year and _perks_! In his +youth Nat Levi smelt of fried fish, unless the smell was overpowered +by onions, and he changed his lodgings more often than he changed his +linen. Now you meet him as Nathaniel Leveson, Esquire, who travelled +in his private car, who assumed the God, when the God was elsewhere, +who owned a palace on Nob Hill, and some of the worst, and therefore +the most paying, rookeries in Chinatown, who never refused to give a +cheque for charitable purposes when it was demanded in a becomingly +public manner, who, like the Autocrat, had endowed Christian Churches, +and had successfully eliminated out of his life everything which +smacked of the Ghetto, except his nose. + +Nathaniel Leveson visited our county, opened an office, and began to +lay his pulpy white hands upon everything which directly or indirectly +might produce petroleum. In due season he invited Uncle Jap to dine +with him at the Paloma Hotel, in San Lorenzo. The old man, with the +hayseed in his hair, and the stains of bitumen upon his gnarled hands, +ate and drank of the best, seeing a glorified vision of his Lily +crowned with diamonds at last. The vision faded somewhat when +Nathaniel began to talk dollars and cents. Even to Uncle Jap, unversed +in such high matters as finance, it seemed plain that Leveson & +Company were to have the dollars, and that to him, the star-spangled +epitome of Yankee grit and get-there were to be apportioned the cents. + +"Lemme see," he said, with the slow, puzzled intonation of the man who +does not understand; "I own this yere oil----" + +"Subject to the mortgage, Mr. Panel, I believe?" + +"That don't amount to shucks," said Uncle Jap. + +"Quite so. Forgive me for interrupting you." + +"I own this yere oil-field, lake I call it, and, bar the mortgage, +it's bin paid for with the sweat of my--soul." + +He brought out the word with such startling emphasis, that Nathaniel +nearly upset the glass of fine old cognac which he was raising to his +lips. + +"Yas, my soul," continued Uncle Jap, meditatively. "I risked +everything I'd got. Man," he leant across the gaily decorated table, +with its crystal, its pink shades, its pretty flowers, and compelled +his host to meet his flaming eyes,--"man, I risked my wife's love and +respect. And," he drew a deep breath, "by God, I was justified. I got +there. If I hadn't," the fire died down in his mild blue eyes, and the +thin body seemed to wither and shrink,--"if I hadn't struck it, it +would hev killed her, the finest lady in the land, an' me too. It was +nip an' tuck with both of us. And now," his voice warmed into life +again,--"and now you offer me fifty thousand dollars." + +"I am anxious to treat you right, Mr. Panel. Another glass of brandy? +No. Between ourselves the market is getting weaker every day. Fifty +thousand profit, perhaps, may seem a small sum to you, but I cannot +offer more. You are at perfect liberty to refuse my cheque; others, +perhaps----" + +Uncle Jap rose up grim and gaunt. + +"I've ate dinner with you," he murmured, "so I'll say nothing more +than 'thank you' and 'good-bye.'" + +"Good-bye, Mr. Panel. At any time, if you have reason to change your +mind, I shall be glad to talk business with you." + +Uncle Jap returned to his own hotel to pass a restless night. Next day +he sought a certain rich man who had a huge ranch in our county. The +rich man, let us call him Dives, had eaten Uncle Jap's figs, and taken +his advice, more than once, about cattle. + +"Who's a-buyin' oil lakes?" demanded Uncle Jap. + +"Nathaniel Leveson." + +"Who else?" + +Dives eyed Uncle Jap keenly. Rich men don't tell all they know, +otherwise they would not be rich. Still, those figs and that water- +melon on a broiling July afternoon had tasted uncommonly good! + +"Look here, Mr. Panel, I think I can guess what has happened. Somebody +has tried to squeeze you--eh?" + +"That's so." + +"Um! You're not the first." + +"I wan't squeezed." + +"Not yet, but----Mr. Panel, I should like to do you a service, and I +know you to be an intelligent man. Do you see this sheet of blotting- +paper?" + +The blotting-paper lay immaculate upon the desk. Dives took a clean +quill, dipped it into ink, and held it poised over the white pad. +Uncle Jap watched him with interest. + +"This," continued Dives, thoughtfully, "represents you and your ranch, +Mr. Panel," he made a small dot upon the blotting-paper. "This," he +made a much larger dot, "represents me and all I have. Now Leveson +represents--_this_." + +With a violent motion, quite contrary to his usual gentle, courteous +manner, Dives plunged the quill to the bottom of the ink pot, withdrew +it quickly, and jerked its contents upon the blotting-paper. A huge +purple blot spread and spread till the other small blots were +incorporated. + +"D--n him!" spluttered Uncle Jap. + +Dives shrugged his shoulders, and smiled. + +"My advice is: take what Leveson offers." + +"Fifty thousand for millions?" + +"Possibly. Can you touch them, if Omnipotence forbids?" + +Dives stared moodily at the big purple blot; then picking up the sheet +of blotting-paper he tore it to pieces with his nervous, finely-formed +fingers, and dropped it into the waste-paper basket. When he looked +up, he saw that Uncle Jap's mild blue eyes were curiously congested. + +"You might see So-and-so," Dives named a banker. "I'll write a note of +introduction." Then he added with a faint inflection of derision: "I +fear it will be of no service to you, because few business men care to +buy trouble even at a bargain." + +All this Ajax and I heard from Uncle Jap, after he returned from San +Lorenzo without selling Sunny Bushes to So-and-so. None the less, he +brought back a pair of small diamond ear-rings. + +"Lily's ears ain't pierced," he explained; "but she'll hev a reel +splendid time lookin' at 'em, jest as I uster hev with my nightie." + +"Your--_nightie_?" + +Uncle Jap chuckled and rubbed together his bony hands, cracking the +joints. + +"Yas, my nightie. Never tole you boys about that, did I? Wal, about a +month before Lily an' me was fixin' up to get merried, she made me a +nightie. It was mos' too dressy fer a lady to wear, let alone a +critter like me who'd allus slep' in his pants an' day shirt. 'Twas of +fine linen, pleated, and fixed with ribands, yaller riband, I chose +the colour. Lily was kinder stuck on pale blue, but I liked yaller +best. Lily knew what I' do with that nightie, an' I done it. I put it +away in the tissoo paper 'twas wrapped in, an' I hev it still. I've got +more solid satisfaction out of lookin' at it than I ever hev out o' my +bank book. An," he concluded warmly, "Lily's goin' ter feel jest that +way about these yere sollytaires." + +What followed immediately afterwards is county history. Uncle Jap +decided to borrow money to develop his bonanza. The Autocrat, with +tentacles stretching to the uttermost ends of the earth, may--I dare +not affirm that he did--have issued instructions that such money as +Jaspar Panel asked for was to be paid. Jaspar Panel asked for a good +deal, and got it. He sunk more wells and capped them; he built +reservoirs, he laid down pipe line. The day of triumph dawned when an +English company offered to take all the oil Uncle Jap could supply, +provided it were delivered free on board their vessels. Then came the +crushing blow that the railroad would not transport Mr. Panel's +petroleum. If they did--this was not the reason given by the shipping +agents--the Autocrat might be _displeased_. + +Meantime the banks politely requested Jaspar Panel to meet his +obligations. + +Hitherto, Uncle Jap had been a man of simple and primitive beliefs. He +had held, for instance, that a beneficent Providence will uphold Right +against Might; he had pinned his faith to the flag under which he +fought and bled when a boy; he had told his Lily (who believed him) +that American citizenship is a greater thing than a Roman's in Rome's +palmiest day: a phrase taken whole from the mouth of a Fourth of July +orator. Last of all, he had believed devoutly in his own strong hands +and will, the partnership of mind and muscle which confronts seemingly +insuperable obstacles confident that it can destroy them. + +And now, hour by hour, day by day, conviction settled upon his soul +that in this world one only reigned supreme: the Autocrat of Oil, +whose High Priest was Nathaniel Leveson. After heart-rending months of +humiliation, upon the eve of foreclosure by the banks, Uncle Jap wrote +a forlorn letter to Nathaniel, accepting his offer of fifty thousand +dollars for the lake of oil. Mr. Leveson, so a subordinate replied, +_was not buying oil properties_! For the moment he was interested +in other matters ... Uncle Jap happened to read next day that Leveson, +treading in the footsteps of his Master, was about to present a +splendid church to the people of San Lorenzo. Uncle Jap stared at the +paper till it turned white, till he saw in the middle of it a huge +purple blot ever-increasing in size. + +That evening he cleaned his old six-shooter, which had made the +climate of the county so particularly pestilential for the wizard with +the hazel twig. + +"Pore critter," he muttered as he wiped the barrel, "he was down to +his uppers, but this feller------" Mrs. Panel, putting away the supper +things, heard her husband swearing softly to himself. She hesitated a +moment; then she came in, and seeing the pistol, a gasp escaped her. + +"What air you doin' with that, Jaspar Panel?" + +Uncle Jap coughed. + +"There's bin a skunk around," he said. "I've kind o' smelled him for +weeks past, hain't you?" + +"I never knowed you to shoot a skunk with anything but a shot-gun." + +"That's so. I'd disremembered. Wonder if I kin shoot as straight as I +used ter?" + +For answer his wife, usually so undemonstrative, bent down, took the +pistol from his hand, put it back into the drawer, and, slightly +blushing, kissed the old man's cheek. + +"Why, Lily, what ails ye?" + +His surprise at this unwonted caress brought a faint smile to her thin +lips. + +"Nothing." + +"Ye ain't tuk a notion that yer goin' to die?" + +"Nothing ails me, Jaspar," her voice was strong and steady. "I'm +strong as I was twenty year ago, or nearly so. I kin begin life over +agen, ef I hev to." + +"Who said you hed to?" enquired her husband fiercely. "Who said you +hed to?" he repeated. "Susan Jane Fullalove? I'd like ter wring her +dam neck. Oh, it wan't her, eh? Wal, you take if from me that you +ain't agoin' to begin life agen onless it's in a marble hall sech as +you've dreamed about ever since you was shortcoated. Let me hear no +more sech talk. D'ye hear?" + +"I hear," she answered meekly, and went back to her kitchen. + +* * * * * + +Next day she came to us across the cow-pasture as we were smoking our +pipes after the mid-day meal. We guessed that no light matter had +brought her afoot, with such distress upon her face. + +"I'm in trouble," she said nervously. + +"We are your friends," said Ajax gravely. + +"Jaspar's gone to town," she gasped. + +Uncle Jap, since the striking of the oil, had been in the habit of +going to town so often that this statement aroused no surprise. We +waited for more information. + +"I'm scared plum ter death," Mrs. Panel continued. "I want ter foller +him at onst. Jaspar's taken the team. I thought maybe you'd hitch up +and drive me in this afternoon--_now_." + +The last word left her lips with a violence that was positively +imperative. + +"Certainly," said Ajax. He turned to leave the room. We neither of us +asked a question. Upon the threshold he addressed me: + +"I'll bring the buggy round while you change." + +I reflected that it was considerate of Ajax to allow me to drive Mrs. +Panel the twenty-six miles between our ranch and San Lorenzo. I nodded +and went into my bedroom. + +* * * * * + +For the first ten miles, Mrs. Panel never opened her lips. I glanced +occasionally at her impassive face, wondering when she would speak. +Somehow I knew that she would speak, and she did. It was like her to +compress all she had left unsaid into the first sentence. + +"Jaspar's gone plum crazy with trouble! he took his six-shooter with +him." + +After that, details given with a descriptive realism impossible to +reproduce. The poor creature revealed herself to me during the next +few minutes as I feel sure she had never revealed herself to her +husband. + +"He's mad, plum crazy," she pleaded. "Nobody knows what he's suffered +but me. I don't say it ain't a jedgment, mebbe it is. We thought we +was jest about right. The pride we took in Sunny Bushes was sinful; +yas, it was. The Lord has seen fit to chastise us, an' I'm willin', I +tole Jaspar so, ter begin agen. We're healthy, an strong, though we +don't look it, I'll allow. Jaspar is plum crazy. His words las' night +proved it. He said we might begin life agen in a marble hall sech as I +hed dreamed about. Good land o' Peter! I never dreamed of marble halls +in all my life, but I dassn't contradict him." + +"He believes you dreamed of them," I said, "and he is quite sure you +ought to live in them." + +"He thinks the world o' me," said Mrs. Panel, in a softer tone, "but +this world an' the next won't turn him from what he's set his mind to +do. I'd oughter be ashamed o' speakin' so of him, but it's so. Mercy! +I hev been talkin'." + +She said no more till we descended from the buggy in the livery stable +where Jaspar was in the habit of putting up his horses. + +"You ain't seen Mr. Panel, hev you?" she asked the ostler. + +"He's around somewheres," the man replied. With this information we +started out to look for him. Away from the familiar brush hills, +confronted by strange faces, confused, possibly, by the traffic, my +companion seemed so nervous and helpless that I dared not leave her. +Almost unconsciously, we directed our steps towards the Amalgamated +Oil Company's office. Here we learned that Leveson was in town, and +that Uncle Jap had called to see him. + +"Did he see him?" Mrs. Panel's voice quavered. + +"No," the clerk answered curtly; then he added: "Nobody sees the boss +without an appointment. We told Mr. Panel to call to-morrow." + +If the clerk had spoken with tongues of angels Lily could not have +assumed a more seraphic expression. + +"An' where is he now?" she asked. + +"Your husband, ma'am? I can't tell you." + +"I mean Mr. Leveson." + +"He's in there," the private room was indicated, "and up to his eyes +in work. He won't quit till he goes to dinner at the Paloma. D'ye hear +the typewriters clicking? He makes things hum when he's here, and +don't you forget it." + +"I shall never forget that," said Mrs. Panel, in an accent which made +me remember that her grandfather had been a graduate of Harvard +University. "Good-afternoon." + +We walked on down the street. Suddenly, Mrs. Panel staggered, and +might have fallen had I not firmly grasped her arm. + +"I dunno' what ails me," she muttered. + +"Did you eat any breakfast this morning?" + +"I dunno' as I did," she admitted with reluctance. + +"Did you eat any dinner?" + +"Mebbee I didn't." Her innate truthfulness compelled her to add with a +pathetic defiance: "I couldn't hev swallered a mossel to save my +life." + +I took her to a restaurant, and prescribed a plate of soup and a glass +of wine. Then I said with emphasis: + +"Now, look here, Mrs. Panel! I want you to rest, while I hunt up Mr. +Panel. When I find him I'll bring him to you." + +"An' s'pose he won't come?" + +"He will come." + +"No, he won't; not till he's done what he's set his mind to do. Was +you aimin' to hunt fer Jaspar up an' down this town?" + +"Certainly. It's not as big as you think." + +"'Pears to me it'd be a better plan to keep an eye on the other +feller." + +With a woman's instinct she had hit the mark. + +"Perhaps it would," I admitted. + +"I noticed one or two things," she continued earnestly. "Near the +office is an empty lot with trees and bushes. I'd as lief rest there +as here ef it's the same to you. Then you kin look around for Jaspar, +if ye've a mind to." + +"And if I find him?" + +"Watch him, as I shall watch the other feller." + +"And then----" + +"The rest is in the dear Lord's hands." + +She adjusted the thick veil which Southern Californian women wear to +keep the thick dust from their faces, and together we returned to +Leveson's office. Passing the door, I could hear the typewriters still +clicking. Mrs. Panel sat down under a tree in the empty lot, and for +the first time since we had met that day spoke in her natural tones. + +"I come away without feeding the chickens," she said. + +I looked at my watch; it was nearly six. One hour of daylight +remained. Leveson, I happened to know, was in the habit of dining +about half-past six. He often returned to the office after dinner. +Between the Hotel Paloma, which lay just outside the town and the +office ran a regular service of street cars. Leveson was the last man +in the world to walk when he could drive. It seemed reasonably certain +that Jaspar, failing to see Leveson at the office, would try to speak +to him at the hotel. From my knowledge of the man's temperament and +character, I was certain that he would not shoot down his enemy +without warning. So I walked up to the hotel feeling easier in my +mind. The clerk, whom I knew well, assigned me a room. I saw several +men in the hall, but not Uncle Jap. + +"Does Mr. Leveson dine about half-past six?" I asked. + +The clerk raised his brows. + +"That's queer," he said. "You're the second man to ask that question +within an hour. Old man Panel asked the same thing." + +"And what did you tell him?" + +"Mr. Leveson don't dine till seven. He goes to the church first." + +If the man had said that Leveson went to Heaven I could not have been +more surprised. Then I remembered what I had read in the local papers. +I had not seen the church yet. I had not wished to see it, knowing +that every stone in it was paid for with the sweat--as Uncle Jap had +put it--of other men's souls. + +"Where is this church?" + +"You don't know? Third turning to the left after passing the Olive +Branch Saloon." + +"Leveson owns that too, doesn't he?" + +The clerk yawned. "I dare say. He owns most of the earth around here, +and most of the people on it." + +I walked quickly back towards the town, wondering what took Leveson to +the church. No doubt he wanted to see if he were getting his money's +worth, to note the day's work, perhaps to give the lie to the +published statement that he built churches and never entered them. +Nearly half-an-hour had passed since I left Mrs. Panel. + +When I reached the third turning to the left I saw the church, +certainly the handsomest in San Lorenzo. It stood in a large lot, +littered with builders' materials. The workmen had left it at six. The +building had an indescribably lifeless aspect. An hour before men had +been busy within and without it, now not a soul was to be seen. I had +time to walk round it, to note that the doors were locked, to note +also, quite idly, that the window of the vestry was open. I could see +no signs of Uncle Jap. + +Coming round to the front, I saw in the distance a portly figure +approaching, followed by a thin, dust-coloured wraith of a woman. I +slipped behind a tree and waited. Leveson strolled up, bland and +imposing. He stood still for a moment, staring intently at the outside +of his church now completed. Then, taking a key from his pocket, he +opened the vestry door and entered the building, closing the door +behind him. I went to meet Mrs. Panel. + +"Seen Jaspar?" + +"I haven't." + +"What's that feller," she always spoke of Leveson as a 'feller,' +"doin' in a church?" + +"It's his church. He built it." + +"Good Land o' Peter! What's he doin' in it anyway?" + +"Not praying, I think." + +"Shush-h-h-h." + +Mrs. Panel touched my arm, thrusting out her lean face in an attitude +of intense attention. I strained my own ears, fairly good ones, but +heard nothing. + +"Jaspar's in there," said his wife. "I hear his voice." + +She trembled with excitement. Obviously, Jaspar had concealed himself +somewhere in the vestry. No time was to be lost. + +Turning the north-east corner of the building, where the vestry is +situated, I crawled under the window, followed by Mrs. Panel. The two +men were within a few feet of us. Uncle Jap's slightly high-pitched +tones fell sharply upon the silence. + +"This is a leetle surprise party, ain't it?" he was saying. + +Leveson answered thickly: "What are you doing here, sir?" + +Although I risked discovery at an inopportune moment, I could not +resist the temptation to raise my eyes level with the sill of the +window. So did Uncle Jap's Lily. We both peered in. Uncle Jap was +facing Leveson; in his hand he held the long-barrelled six-shooter; in +his eyes were tiny pin-point flashes of light such as you see in an +opal on a frosty morning. Terror had spread a grim mask upon the +other; his complexion was the colour of oatmeal, his pendulous lips +were quivering, his huge body seemed of a sudden to be deflated. He +might have been an empty gas bag, not a man. + +"I'm goin' to tell ye that," continued Uncle Jap mildly, "I come here +to hev a leetle talk with you. Sinse I've bin in San Lorenzy County +two men hev tried to ruin me: one left the county in a hurry; you're +the other." + +"I give you my word of honour, Mr. Panel----" + +"That's about all _you_ would give, an' it ain't wuth takin'." + +"Do you mean to kill me?" + +"Ef I hev to, 't won't keep me awake nights." + +In my ear I heard his Lily's attenuated whisper: "Nor me neither, if +Jaspar ain't caught." + +And I had thought that solicitude for Jaspar's soul had sent his Lily, +hot-foot to prevent the crime of--murder! I learnt something about +women then which I shall not forget. + +"You propose to blackmail me, I suppose?" + +"Ugly word, that, but it's yours, not mine. I prefer to put it this +way. I propose to consecrate this yere church with an act o' justice." + +"Go on!" + +"This county wan't big enough for the other feller an' me, so he had +to go; it ain't big enough to-day for you an' me, but this time, I'm +a-goin', whether you stay in it or _under_ it." + +At the word "under" Uncle Jap's Lily nudged me. I looked at her. Her +face was radiant. Her delight in her husband at such a moment, her +conviction that he was master of the situation, that he had regained +by this audacious move all the prestige which he had in her +estimation, lost--these things rejuvenated her. + +"It's a question of dollars, of course?" + +"That's it. Before you ask for credit with the angel Gabriel, you've +got to squar' up with Jaspar Panel." + +"With the dear Lord's help, Jaspar has found a way," whispered the +joyful voice in my ear. + +"How much?" demanded Leveson. His colour was coming back. + +"We've got to figger on that. Take a pencil an' paper an' sit down." + +"This is ridiculous." + +"Sit down, you----" + +Nathaniel Leveson sat down. The vestry had been used by the contractor +as an office; the plain deal table was littered with scraps of paper. +Leveson took out a gold pencil-case. + +"Married man, ain't ye?" said Uncle Jap, with seeming irrelevance. + +"Yes." + +"Ever give your wife a ti-airy: diamond crown, sorter?" + +"What the----" + +"Answer--_quick!_" + +"Yes." + +"What did ye pay for it? _Quick!_" + +"Ten thousand dollars." + +"Put that down first." + +The joy and gladness had entirely melted out of Mrs. Panel's thin +voice as she whispered dole-fully to me: "Jaspar _is_ crazy, +after all." + +"No, he isn't," I whispered back. + +Jaspar continued in a mild voice: "What does a way-up outfit o' lady's +clothes cost: sealskin sacques, satins, the best of everything outside +and in?" + +"I don't know." + +"You've got to figger it out--_quick!_" + +"Say ten thousand, more or less." + +"Put down fifteen; I'd jest as lief it was more 'n less. Put down a +hundred dollars fer me, I mean to hev a good suit o' clothes myself. +What does that come to?" + +"Twenty-five thousand, one hundred dollars. Aren't you wasting time, +Mr. Panel?" + +"Nit. Of course if we happened to be interrupted it might be awkward +fer you. If somebody should call, you'll say, of course, that yer very +particularly engaged, eh?" + +"Yes," said Nathaniel Leveson. "To oblige me, Mr. Panel, take your +finger from that trigger." + +"Ah? I'd ought ter hev done that before. I'd disremembered 'twas a +hair trigger. Now then, put down Sunny Bushes, includin' the oil lake, +at yer own figger, fifty thousand. Got it? Yas. Now then, for wear an' +tear of two precious souls an' bodies--that's it! Fifty thousand more. +Got it? Yas. How much now?" + +"One hundred and twenty-five thousand, one hundred dollars." + +"Right! What does a marble hall cost?" + +"A marble----" + +"You heard what I said plain enough. You live in one yerself. What did +that leetle shebang on Nob Hill cost ye?" + +"Four hundred thousand dollars." + +"Jiminy Christmas! Marble halls come high, but you've a large fam'ly, +more's the pity. Put down seventy-five thousand. Got it? Yas. Now +then, about statooary--" + +"Good God!" + +"Don't call on the Lord so loud. I reckon he's nearer than you give +Him credit fer. Statooary comes high, too, but one don't want overly +much of it. A leetle gives a tone to a parlour. Put down five +thousand. Got it! Yas. Furniture an' fixins, lemmee see! Wal, when it +comes to buyin' fixin's, Mis' Panel beats the world. Put down ten +thousand more. Total, please!" + +"Two hundred and fifteen thousand and one hundred dollars." + +"Make out yer personal note to me an' Mis' Panel fer that amount. One +day after date. An' consideration. Sunny Bushes, oil, mortgage an' +all, but _not_ the stock, I wouldn't sell any living critter to +sech as you. There's pen an' ink all handy." + +We heard the scratching of pen on paper. + +"Ye look mighty pleased," said Uncle Jap, "an' it's not because yer +gittin' a property wuth a million for a quarter its value, nor because +late in the day ye've squared an ugly account, but because yer +thinkin' that this yere note ain't wuth the paper it's written on. An' +it ain't-yit." + +Again Mrs. Panel nudged me. Her beatific expression told me more +eloquently than words that her Jasper was the greatest man on earth. + +"Notes-of-hand given by onreliable parties must be secured," said +Uncle Jap slowly. "This yere is goin' to be secured by a confession, +dictated by me, written out an' signed by you. When the note is paid, +I hand over the confession--see! If the note ain't paid prompt, the +confession goes to the noospapers of this enlightened land. I shall +git something from them for sech a remarkable doccyment. But, first of +all, here an' now, you can make a small payment on the note. Give me +that di'mond ring, an' the di'mond pin. _Quick_!" + +A moment later these corruscating gems were swept into Uncle Jap's +hand. + +"What did they cost ye?" + +"Twenty-seven hundred dollars." + +"Suffering Moses! Endorse that as paid on the back of the note. Got it +down? Yas." Uncle Jap folded up the note and placed it carefully in a +large pocket-book. "Now write out, good an' plain, what I tell ye. +Ready? Date an' address first. That's right. Now----" + +Obviously, he was pulling himself together for a tremendous literary +effort. Mrs. Panel had hold of my arm, and was squeezing it hard. +Uncle Jap began-- + +"'_This is to certify that I, Nathaniel Leveson, the undersigned, +have been fooling with the wrong end of a mule, viz., Jasper Panel, +who's as self-opinionated a critter as ever marched with Sherman to +the Sea_----' What air you doing?" + +Leveson had laid down his pen. "This is farce," he said sharply. + +"We'll hev your criticism after the play is over," retorted Uncle Jap +decisively. "I'm talkin' now. Pick up that thar pen, and don't lay it +down agen till I tell ye, or," the muzzle of the Colt almost touched +the perspiring forehead of the Colossus, "or else, by Golly, thar'll +be a terr'ble muss to clean up in here to-morrer mornin'. That's +better. Lemmee see, whar was I? _'Sherman to the Sea,_' yas. Now: +'_I tried to down Jasper Panel, and he's downed me. I'm a nateral +born hog, and I eat with all four feet in the trough.'_ Underline +that, it's good. _'I'm big, an sassy, an' full o' meanness, but what +sand I've got ain't to be seen with a double-barrelled microscope. I'm +as false as Judas; an' Ananias wouldn't be seen walkin' arm in arm +with me in the place whar I'd oughter be to-night. I'd steal milk from +a blind kitten an' sell it as cream to my own mother five minutes +after.'_ Underline that: it's straight goods. Now then fer the +finish. _'I wouldn't offer a fair price fer Sunny Bushes, because I +aimed ter git it fer nothing. I wouldn't allow others to buy it fer +the same reason. I used the power that the Devil give me to prevent a +railroad, which I own, furnishin' cars to J. Panel, an' las'ly, I +caused money ter be loaned to said J. Panel so's to git him completely +under my heel. Also I built a church in San Lorenzy, an' I write these +yere lines in the vestry of it as a sorter penance. I swear solemn +that this is the first time in my life that I ever tole the truth, an' +I'll never do it agen, if I know myself._' + +"Sign that, an' give it ter me," said Uncle Jap. + +Leveson, purple with rage and humiliation, signed it. + +* * * * * + +At this psychological moment we made our presence known. + +"Uncle Jap," said I, "don't you think that document ought to be +witnessed." + +"Jee-whillikins! Ef it ain't you. Who's that a-peekin' behind ye?" + +"It's me, Jaspar," said Mrs. Panel meekly. + +Uncle Jap unlocked the door of the vestry and let us in. Leveson sat +huddled up in his chair. Uncle Jap prodded him with the ancient pistol +which he still held in his hands. + +"Can't you offer a lady a chair?" he said testily. Leveson offered his +chair, upon the extreme edge of which Mrs. Panel deprecatingly seated +herself. Uncle Jap eyed her with wrinkled interrogation. + +"What in thunder brought ye to San Lorenzy?" + +Mrs. Panel twisted her fingers. + +"I looked in the drawer, an' I see _that_," she indicated the +weapon, "was missin'." + +"Did ye? Now, Lily Panel, you don't mean to tell me that you thought I +was goin' ter murder this feller?" + +Mrs. Panel looked at Leveson with an expression which I have seen in +the eyes of foothill mothers, whose children run barefoot, when they +have found a rattlesnake. Then she drawled out: "Wal, I hoped you +might, but----" + +"Why, Lily! You hoped I might?" + +"Yes; but I feared you'd git murdered first. Oh Jaspar, I didn't know +you was sech a man." + +She stood up, her eyes were shining, her face radiant "Fergive me, but +I reckoned you--was--petered--out?" + +"Petered out--_me_?" + +"Yas; I'm a silly, fullish woman." + +"No, you ain't. Petered out--_me_? Wal," he glanced at Leveson, +"somebody _is_ petered out, but it ain't me. Did ye ever see a +man scairt worse'n him? I scairt the wizard some; yas I did, but he +could run: this feller can't crawl, I reckon. An' this yere Colt wan't +loaded then, an' it ain't loaded--now. Look! What an appetite I hev! +Who says supper? Now, mister," he addressed Leveson, "seein' as the +starch is outer you, I'll give ye my arm as fur as the Paloma." + +"Leave me," gurgled Leveson. + +"I'm too good a Christian. In the state yer in it'd kill ye to meet +somebody else ye've robbed. It's too risky." + +"Go, you scoundrel! Authority was returning to his voice; the old +arrogance gleamed in his eyes. + +"Scoundrel--hay?" Uncle Jap's voice became savage. "You come along +with me--quick an' quiet. This old Colt ain't loaded, but ef I hit you +over the head with the butt of it, ye'll think it is. Come!" + +In silence the four of us marched up to the Paloma, and into the big +hall where a dozen men were smoking. Uncle Jap addressed the clerk in +a loud, clear voice. + +"Mr. Leveson," he said, "has just concluded a leetle deal with me. +He's bought Sunny Bushes an' the lake of ile for two hundred and +fifteen thousand and one hundred dollars. Here is his note. Put it in +the safe for me till to-morrer." + +The chatter in the big room had ceased long before Uncle Jap had +finished. More than one man present divined that something quite out +of the ordinary had taken place. Leveson moistened his lips with his +tongue. His chance had come. Had he chosen to repudiate the note, had +he denounced Uncle Jap as obtaining at the pistol point what could be +obtained in no other way, the law of the land would have released him +from his bond. But Uncle Jap had read him aright: he was a coward. + +"Yes," he said. "I've bought Sunny Bushes." + +"An' dirt cheap, too," said Uncle Jap. He spoke to the clerk in his +usual mild voice: "Can you give Mis' Panel an' me accommodation?" + +"Certainly, Mr. Panel. What sort of accommodation, sir?" + +Uncle Jap looked fondly at his wife. I doubt if she had ever crossed +the threshold of the Paloma before. I could see her blinking at the +marble columns, at the velvet pile rugs, and the innumerable electric +lights just turned on. + +"What sorter accommodation?" repeated Uncle Jap. "Why, anything'd do +fer me, but Mis' Panel is mighty particular. We'll take the bridal +suit, if it ain't engaged." + +"Certainly; sitting-room, bedroom, and bathroom upon the first floor," +said the clerk, striking a bell for the hall porter. + +"Come, Lily," said Uncle Jap. + +She raised her head, as if she were about to protest; then she smiled +contentedly, and followed him out of the old life into the new. + + + + +X + +WILKINS AND HIS DINAH + + +Wilkins had a pair of eyes that had seen better days. His features +were still good, and the complexion showed quality of texture: a bloom +often seen upon the faces of middle-aged men who in youth have been +fair. His figure was imposing. When he lounged into a room, even a +bar-room, he took the stage, so to speak; you were bound to look at +him. When he spoke you listened to words, wise or otherwise. When he +smiled you were seized with an absurd desire to shake his hand! + +He was herding sheep for Silas Upham, a man of flocks and herds, and +the father of one child, Hetty. Meeting Wilkins for the first time, I +wondered what Hetty thought of her sire's shepherd. + +Wilkins told us that our back fence was down, and that a bunch of +steers had broken through into Upham's alfalfa. We thanked him, +offering whisky and tobacco. He accepted both with captivating smile +and easy nod. A minute later he was sitting in our most comfortable +chair, staring at our books and engravings. His eyes lingered upon the +best of these with a look of recognition. He asked no questions. + +Next day we rode over to his hut, and smoked some pipes. Wilkins spoke +of India, Australia, France, and Italy, but he never mentioned +England. Nor did we. Presently, somewhat to our surprise, Hetty Upham +cantered into camp. The day happened to be unusually hot, which +accounted, perhaps, for her rosy cheeks. She delivered a message to +Wilkins, exchanged a few words with us, and galloped off. + +"Goes faster than she came," said Ajax. + +"Yes," said Wilkins. Then he added, with emphasis: "I don't blame any +girl from galloping away from such a hole as this." With a derisive +glance he indicated the flies swarming about his pots and pans, the +ill-trimmed lamp reeking of petroleum, the rough bunk wherein he +slept, the rusty stove. We contrasted these sordid surroundings with +the splendours of Silas Upham's front parlour, and then we stared +furtively at Wilkins. + +About a week later Wilkins supped with us. Warmed by good food and +drink, his reserve concerning himself somewhat melted. We learned that +he had been but two weeks in Upham's service, that he had worked his +passage down the coast from Vancouver to San Francisco. + +"And how do you like the Uphams?" said Ajax. + +The use of the plural provoked a slight smile. + +"Naturally, I don't see much of them," said Wilkins. + +He picked up an old photograph album, and began to turn over its +pages. Obviously, his thoughts were elsewhere; and the sound of his +own voice must have startled him. + +"By Jove--it's old Sam!" + +He spoke in a whisper, as if to himself. + +"Yes--it's old Sam," said Ajax quickly. "You were at Harrow?" + +Wilkins' eyelids fluttered; then he met our glance with a shrug of his +shoulders. + +"Yes." + +He stared at the portrait of Sam, the Custos of the School, the +familiar of the Yard, of the Fourth Room Form, Sam, the provider of +birches, Sam of the port wine nose. + +"_We_ were at Harrow," said Ajax. "What house was yours?" + +Wilkins hesitated; then he said slowly: "Tommy's." + +"We were at Billy's." + +Wilkins abruptly changed the subject, and soon after he left us. We +rushed to the Harrow register. Yes, in Tommy's house, some seven years +before our time, there had been a certain Theodore Vane Wilkins. Ajax, +whose imagination runs riot, began to prattle about a Dinah, a Delilah +of a Dinah, who had wrecked our schoolfellow's life. And, during the +ensuing week, Dinah was continually in his mouth. Wilkins had moved +camp, and we saw nothing of him. What we heard, however, must be set +down. Silas Upham asked us to spend Sunday at his house. At dinner I +sat next pretty little Hetty, and at once she spoke of Wilkins. To my +annoyance, Ajax introduced the ridiculous Dinah, the perfidious +creature of his fancy. Ajax was in his salad days, but he ought to +have known, even then, that if you want to interest a maid in a man, +tell her that the man has suffered at the hands of another maid. +Hetty's blue eyes sparkled, her dimpled cheeks glowed with sympathy +and indignation. + +"Schoolfellow o' yours, was he? Well--I may make that feller foreman +one o' these days," said Silas, with a fond, foolish glance at his +daughter. Hetty could do what she pleased with her sire--and knew it. + +"Poppa," said Miss Hetty, "you're all sorts of a darling, and I must +kiss you." + +Then she and Ajax strolled on to the verandah, and I found myself +alone with my host. He said meaningly: "Wilkins has had a tough row to +hoe--eh? But he's a perfect gentleman, straight, sober, and a worker. +I've been looking for a man that is a man to run things here, now that +I'm getting a bit stiff in the joints. Hetty likes him first-rate +too." + +All this in an interrogatory tone. Of course, it was easy to fill the +_lacunae_ in the text. Silas Upham adored his daughter and his +ranch. If Hetty married Wilkins, the artful Silas would gain an able- +bodied, capable major-domo, and he would not lose his pet lamb. I +said, rather tartly-- + +"Look here, Upham, you know nothing of Wilkins, and I advise you and-- +er--Miss Hetty to go slow." + +"I do go slow," said my host, "but Hetty likes to buzz along. She's a +mover, she is." + +As we rode home I told Ajax that Opportunity had thrust into Wilkins' +hand a very tempting morsel. Was he going to swallow it? And ought we +to ask some questions? + +I think it was on the following Wednesday that Wilkins walked over to +the ranch-house, and asked for a job. + +"I've left Upham," he said curtly. + +We had not much to offer; such as it was, Wilkins accepted it. Ajax +drove to Upham's to fetch Wilkins' blankets and belongings. When he +came back, he drew me aside. + +"Silas offered him the billet of foreman. Wilkins _refused it_." + +* * * * * + +A month passed. Wilkins worked hard at first, and his ability, his +shrewdness, confounded us, as it had confounded Silas Upham. Then, he +began to slack, as boys put it. Small duties were ill done or not done +at all. But we liked him, were, indeed, charmed by him. As Ajax +remarked, Fascination does not trot in the same class with Respect. + +Twice I caught that shameless little witch, Hetty, in our back +pasture, where Wilkins was splitting rails. Thrice a week she called +at the ranch-house on her way to the post office. + +"She means to marry Wilkins," said Ajax to me. "And why not? If one +woman has made him--er--invertebrate, let Hetty Upham put backbone +into him." + +That evening we asked Wilkins to witness a legal paper, some agreement +or other. He signed his name Henry Wilkins. Ajax stared at me; then he +walked to the bookcase. His voice was very hard, as he turned, Harrow +register in hand, and said: "The only Wilkins at Tommy's was Theodore +Vane Wilkins." + +Wilkins rose, shrugged his shoulders, and laughed. Ajax scowled. + +"We told Silas Upham that you were an old Harrovian," began my +brother. + +"So I am; but my name is not Wilkins." He lit a cigarette, before he +continued quietly: "I'm a fraud. I'm not even an Englishman. My father +was a Southerner. He settled in England after the war. He used to say +bitterly that he had been born the wrong side of the Atlantic. He died +soon after I left Harrow. With what money he left me I travelled all +over the world: shooting, fishing, and playing the fool. + +"When I found myself stony-broke, I hunted up my Baltimore relations. +Some of them told me it was easier to marry money than to make it. My +name--I'll keep that to myself, if you don't mind--had a certain value +in the eyes of a rich girl I knew. At the same time there was another +girl----" + +"Ah--Dinah," Ajax murmured. + +"We'll call her Dinah. Dinah," his voice shook for a moment, "Dinah +cared for me, and I--I cared for her. But the girl with money had a +blaring, knock-me-down sort of beauty that appeals to men. Lots of +fellows were after her. Dinah had only me. Dinah was mine, if I chose +to claim her; the other had to be won. The competition, plus the coin, +ensnared me. I became engaged to the rich girl. I don't think I knew +then what I was doing to--Dinah. Within a fortnight I was struck down +with scarlet fever. The rich girl--she was game as a pebble--nursed +me. I became delirious. My nurse listened to my ravings for two days +and nights; then she went away. I came to my senses to find Dinah at +my bedside. The other wrote later, releasing me from the engagement +and bidding me marry the girl whose name had been on my lips a +thousand times. I laughed, and showed the letter to Dinah. A friend +promised me work. Dinah and I were going to live in a cottage, and be +happy for ever and ever.... + +"And then she--sickened!" + +In the dreary silence that followed, neither Ajax nor I were able to +speak. + +"And--and she died." + +* * * * * + +The poor fellow left us next day, and we never saw him again. It is to +be remembered that he never encouraged Hetty Upham, whose infatuation +was doubtless fanned by his indifference. She offered him bread, nay, +cakes and ale, but he took instead a stone, because cakes and ale had +lost their savour. We heard, afterwards, that he died on the Skagway +Pass in an attempt to reach the Klondyke too early in the spring. He +was seeking the gold of the Yukon placers; perhaps he found, beyond +the Great White Silence, his Dinah. + + + + +XI + +A POISONED SPRING + + +In our bunk-house three of the boys were about to turn into bed. They +had worked hard all day, driving cattle into the home-pasture for the +spring _rodeo_, and on the morrow they would have to work harder +still, cutting out the steers and branding the calves. + +"Who is this Perfessor?" asked Dan. + +Jimmie, who was rubbing tallow on to his lariat, answered-- + +"There's a piece about him in the _Tribune_." + +Pete picked up the county paper, which happened to be lying on the +floor. He read aloud, in a sing-song drawl-- + +"'We are greatly honoured by the presence amongst us of Professor Adam +Chawner, the eminent surgeon and pathologist----'" + +"How's that?" demanded Dan. + +"Surgeon an' path--ologist." + +"What's path--ologist?" + +Pete expectorated a contempt for ignorance which he was too polite to +put into words. Then he said suavely-- + +"A pathologist is a kind o' pathfinder. Comes from the Greek, I +reckon: _path--logus_--skilled in finding noo paths to knowledge. +See!" + +"If you ain't a walkin' dictionary!" + +"It comes nateral to me," Pete admitted modestly. He continued-- + +"'The Professor, instead of taking a well-earned holiday in our land +of roses and sunshine, proposes to study at first hand the micrococci +of a deadly disease which, we are given to understand, is peculiar to +this part of California....'" + +"Never heard of a deadly disease peculiar to these parts," said Jimmie +thoughtfully,--"always exceptin' Annie-dominie." + +"'Peculiar to this part of California,'" continued Pete, "'and likely, +given certain conditions, to develop into an epidemic as terrible and +mysterious as the sleeping sickness.'" + +"Sleepin' sickness? What's that?" + +"Dan, yer ignorance is disgraceful. Sleepin' sickness is common as +hives amongst the cannibals. After a square meal o' missionary, the +critters fall asleep, and they don't never wake up neither. Serve 'em +right, too." + +"Go on, Pete." + +Pete, with a thick thumb upon the right line, went on-- + +"'The Professor's researches here may prove of vital importance. And, +speaking for our fellow-citizens, we venture to assure this +distinguished pathologist of our cordial desire to co-operate, so far +as it may be possible, in the important work which he has +undertaken.'" + +"Slings words, that feller," remarked Jimmie. "But what in thunder is +Perfessor Adam Chawner a-doin' in Paradise?" + +"Come, mebbee, to see you rope steers," suggested Dan. + +"I shall aim not to disappoint him," replied Jimmie. "All the same, I +ask you fellers straight: Has he come here to--work?" + +"Meanin'?" + +"If this yere deadly disease is on the rampage I, for one, 'd like to +know it." + +"Me too," drawled Dan. + +A silence followed as Jimmie coiled up his rope. Pete began to remove +his boots. Dan, very furtively, placed a finger upon his pulse. Then +he said with constraint-- + +"Boys, I don't want any joshin'. I've not felt extry spry lately." + +"Same here," said Jimmie quickly. + +Pete smiled sarcastically. + +"A little bird tole me," he remarked slowly, looking at Dan, "as how +Miss Mary Willing was seen a-buggy-ridin' las' Sunday with Jack Rice." + +"It's true," said Dan, shortly. "Me and Mame is at outs. If I was +dyin', I couldn't forgive her!" + +"You don't say?" cried Jimmie. "Wal, Miss Edna Parkinson an' yours +truly ain't goin' ter speak never no more, neither. That hound Ikey +Greenberg has cut in with a noo Prince Albert coat. It's upset me +considerable." + +"My trouble ain't heart only," said Dan. + +"Stomach?" suggested Pete. + +"All overish, mostly." + +"You ain't bin readin' the advertisements o' quack doctors, hev ye?" + +"Not since I was twenty. They did give me fits at one time. Boys"--he +began to scratch himself furiously--"I've a feelin' as if I was afire +inside." + +"Maw used ter give me sarsaparilla," said Jimmie. + +"My folks," observed Pete, "never tuk nothin' but castor ile. Must ha' +downed a barrel o' that when I was a kid." + +"This thing is drivin' me crazy," said Dan. + +"Wal," replied Pete deliberately, "I know what I'd do, and I'd do it +quick. This yere Professor is on the ranch, and he's a dandy. After +the _rodeo_, you jest sachay up to him an' tell him what you've +tole us. If he don't take the kinks outer yer, he's a fraud. See!" + +"Gosh," exclaimed Dan, "I'll do it!" + +They turned in. + +* * * * * + +The Professor next day watched the _rodeo_ from a platform +erected near the biggest of our corrals. This was his first visit to +California, and he was mightily impressed by the skill and vigour of +the vaqueroes. To Ajax he declared that he was amazed to find such +splendid specimens in that particular locality. Ajax smiled. + +"We have not much," he said, "but we feel that we have a right to +expect high health. We used to say," he added, "that sickness was +unknown in our hills till a wise doctor settled here from the East." + +The Professor frowned. + +"I rose at six," he said austerely. "I made a microscopical +examination of the water in your new spring, which rises, I venture to +remind you, through soil which is undoubtedly diatomaceous." + +"That sounds awful." + +"Diatoms in a fossilised condition are silicious, and they are to be +found in Virginia, in Bermuda, and here." + +"Professor, I am an ignoramus." + +"Then it is my duty to inform you that the man or woman who drinks +water from that spring is swallowing millions of tiny flint knives, +hard as diamond dust--indeed, diatomaceous earth is used commercially +as a polishing powder." + +"You mean that if we drink that water we shall be polished off?" + +The Professor glared. Like many distinguished scientists, he took +himself seriously, and he knew that this was a serious matter. + +"Those tiny flint knives cut to ribands the mucous membrane." + +"Fortunately," said Ajax, "we don't drink that water. The spring was +only developed a few days ago." In a graver voice he continued: "We +are exceedingly obliged to you. Of course we shall warn our men." + +"Has nobody drunk of that spring?" + +Ajax thought that he detected a note of disappointment. He replied +reflectively: "I don't think so. The cattle have used it. It doesn't +seem to have affected them." + +"Are you sure of that?" he demanded sharply. + +"You can ask our foreman." + +Later, the Professor did so. Uncle Jake came out of the corrals, +carrying a branding-iron and found himself confronted by a short, +thick-set man with prominent, slightly congested grey eyes, which +shone keenly out of an immense head. + +"I am Professor Chawner, of the Smithsonian. I wish to ask you a +question." + +"Perfessor, I'm happy to meet ye. It tickles me to death to answer +questions. And I stand by the editor o' _The Tribune_. If I kin +co-operate in yer important work, why, count me in." + +The Professor raised his grizzled brows in astonishment, but he said +politely-- + +"I am very much obliged to you. My question is this: 'Do the cattle +drink at the spring which bubbles out of that hill yonder?'" + +"Some of 'em do." + +"Regularly?" + +"Not to say reglerly, Perfessor. It's this way with cattle on a ranch +as well watered as ours. They drink when they feel like it, and they +drink where the water is handy to the feed. Come to think of it, there +never has been much feed around that spring; and it never flowed good +and hard till we opened it a few days ago." + +"Since you opened it, to your personal knowledge, have cattle drunk of +it?" + +Uncle Jake scratched his head. The Professor's manner was impressive. + +"Have you seen cattle actually drinking that water?" + +"I dunno' as I have. I've seen 'em standing in it." + +"Animals have remarkable subjective intelligence--what you would term +instincts. It would be extremely interesting to determine whether such +instincts have prevented them from drinking water unfit for animal +consumption." + +"Unfit for animal consumption? By gosh, that's what killed our cow, I +reckon! We found her lyin' by the spring, cold an' stiff, two days +ago!" + +"Have you buried the carcass?" + +"Not much. Turkey-buzzards attend to our cow funerals." + +"Of course. You look excited, my friend." + +"I am. We've lost other cattle and colts in this yere pasture." + +"Ah!" murmured the Professor. His expression became benignant. + +"We s'posed," continued Uncle Jake, "that they died o' old age." + +"You mentioned colts?" + +"I did so. Colts die anyhow and anyway. It's a solid fact that we've +lost more animals in this pasture than anywheres else. I'll take my +oath to that." + +"Good!" said the Professor heartily. "You have given to me information +of value." + +The Professor returned to the corrals. Under the trees, close to the +creek, in whose cooling waters stood bottles of beer and wine, a +tender calf was being barbecued. Upon long willow spits sizzled and +frizzled toothsome morsels, made more toothsome by the addition of a +sauce cunningly compounded of chillies, tomatoes, and the pungent +onion. The Professor made a noble meal. He was delighted to observe +how few of the guests slaked their thirst with water, and he quoted +the famous quatrain: + + "Let princes revel at the pump; + Let peers with ponds make free; + But whisky, beer, or even wine, + Is good enough for me." + +After the _rodeo_, the Professor lighted a large cigar and +composed himself under a live-oak. His mind, ever active, was +wandering through the home-pasture seeking the fatal spring. He was +trying to estimate the effect of silicious matter upon the mucous +membrane of a cow, when he saw Dan, sombrero in hand, bowing low +before him. + +"Hello!" said the Professor, his eye resting professionally upon Dan's +splendid proportions. What a "subject" to cut up! What a skeleton to +articulate! + +"Perfessor!" said Dan, "I want you to hev a look at me." + +The Professor looked at him. + +"My young friend," he said genially, "you're worth looking at. Do you +drink water?" + +"When I can't git nothing else," replied Dan. + +"Water it is, and lots of it, except when I strike town." + +"If you must drink water," said the Professor with authority, "have it +distilled." + +"Jeeroosalem!" exclaimed Dan. "That's a gilt-edged idea. Perfessor, +ye're a pathologist, ain't yer?" + +The Professor nodded. Genius, however exalted, acknowledges +unsolicited testimonials from any source. He saw plainly that in Dan's +eyes he loomed gigantic. + +"I am," he replied graciously. + +"A path-finder, a seeker-out of noo tracks to knowledge?" + +"You might express it worse," said the Professor. "What can I do for +you?" + +"I'm a mighty sick man," said Dan solemnly. + +The Professor was so astonished that he nearly bit through his +excellent cigar; but at once a flame sparkled in his grey eyes. If +Dan, with his appearance of robust health, was really a mighty sick +man, why, then, his case challenged attention. He stood up and, so to +speak, spread his wings, hovering over his lawful prey. + +"What's wrong?" he demanded. + +"I'm afire with itching. At this moment I feel as if some dev'lish +imps was stickin' needles into me." + +The Professor felt his pulse, looked at his tongue, and nodded +sapiently. + +"You've been drinking the water of that new spring." + +"I hev. I helped open it up." + +"Did you drink much of it?" + +"Oceans!" + +"My poor fellow, I am distressed beyond words. I promise you that you +shall have every care and attention. I won't leave this ranch till-- +till the end." + +"The end?" + +"You are a remarkable specimen--probably you will make a gallant +fight--but I cannot disguise from you--it would be criminal to do so-- +that you ought to put your house in order." + +"Hav'n't got no house," said Dan, not quite comprehending, but sadly +frightened. "Me and Mame expected to build next year, but that's off." + +"Next year!" echoed the Professor testily. "The question is: Where +will you be next week?" + +Dan staggered. The Professor, having long retired from active +practice, remembered with a qualm that he might have broken this +appalling news more considerately. He said quietly-- + +"I beg your pardon. I ought to have tempered this; but you are an +American, and strong enough at this moment to know the truth. I may +pull you through. Without boasting, there is not another man in +America, or Europe either, who would say as much." + +"Christopher Columbus!" + +"I don't call myself that," said the Professor modestly, "but I may +claim to have discovered pathogenic continents. Now, my boy"--he took +hold firmly of Dan's arm--"I am going to put you to bed." + +"No, you ain't," said Dan. "I've chores to do. I can't be spared." + +The Professor nodded. + +"You're a stout fellow. After all, half-an-hour won't make any +material difference." + +"In half-an-hour you'll find me in the bunk-house. I'm obligated to +ye," he added hastily. "So long!" + +He strode off. The Professor nodded approvingly. He had grit himself, +and esteemed it highly in others. + +"I must pull him through," he muttered. + +* * * * * + +When the Professor reached the bunk-house, he found three tall strong +men awaiting him. Their faces, tanned by many suns, exhibited a +curious uniformity of tint--the colour of dirty gruel. + +Dan said in a voice that trembled-- + +"These are my friends, Jimmie Barker and Pete Holloway. They helped +open up that derned spring. They drank a plenty of the water. Jimmie, +here, couldn't git enough of it. They've the same symptoms as I hev." + +Jimmie and Pete writhed. + +"Pins and needles all over," said Pete. + +"Went to sleep on an ants' nest onst," said Jimmie faintly. "This is a +heap worse." + +"Heaven help you!" ejaculated the Professor. + +"'Pears to me," said Dan solemnly, "from what you said just now, we're +in the mulligatawny." + +The Professor muttered something encouraging, but he remembered the +cow. + +"To bed with you," he commanded. + +Within half-an-hour everyone on the ranch had heard the news. The +Professor alone remained monumentally impassive. + +"All that is humanly possible shall be done," he affirmed. + +"And your treatment?" said I. + +"I have no drugs here, but already I have despatched a man to San +Lorenzo for strychnia, which in the first stage is invaluable. +Meantime I must do what I can with whisky. Have you plenty of whisky?" + +"Yes, but----" + +"I want a gallon of it." + +"Of course you are aware--you know, I mean----" + +The Professor waved a powerful arm; beneath his shaggy brows his grey +eyes sparkled angrily. + +"I know what I am doing," he said sharply, "and I cannot waste +valuable time imparting to a layman knowledge gathered during a +lifetime. The whisky, please--_at once_." + +I obeyed meekly. Five minutes later, the Professor was walking towards +the bunk-house with a gallon demijohn tucked under his arm. A quarter +of an hour afterwards he might have been seen returning. His eyes were +positively snapping with vigour and excitement, for he loved a fight +for a fight's sake. Ajax met him. + +"Professor," he said, "I don't want you to impart the knowledge of a +lifetime to me, but do, please, tell us something. We are on edge with +anxiety." + +The man of science melted. With a shrug of his massive shoulders, he +said, mildly for him-- + +"My dear sir, I will try to gratify a not unreasonable curiosity. I +did not wish to alarm you prematurely this morning, but the worst has +happened. The silicious fragments in that confounded earth have +lacerated terribly the mucous membranes of these three unfortunate +young men. That in itself is a matter of small importance. The mucous +membrane is most delicate, but it has quite amazing capacities of +repairing itself. The point is this. The water in that spring, and-- +I'll be perfectly frank--the water in most of the surface springs in +this particular locality, is simply swarming with pathogenic germs, +and amongst them I identified this morning the as yet unnamed +_coccus_ which I had the honour to discover, and which is as +deadly as the _coma bacillus_ of Asiatic cholera, or--shall I +say?--the highly specialised venom of the rattlesnake." + +"Great Scot!" + +"This _coccus_, my dear friend, increases and multiplies under +certain conditions. It exacts a highly lacerated condition of the +mucous membrane into which it burrows. Fortunately it is rare; +fortunately, also, it is seldom found in water which has filtered +through diatomaceous earth; for these fossilised deposits are only +found here and there, and, as a rule, not near water." + +"They are three good fellows." + +"I hope to pull them through," said the Professor stoutly. "For the +moment there is nothing more to be done. They are in bed, and, not to +put a fine point on it, half-drunk. Alcohol stupefies the +_cocci_, but it does not destroy them. I shall pour whisky down +their throats till the drugs I have ordered arrive from San Lorenzo. I +have told your foreman that my patients are not to be disturbed. After +supper I shall administer another dose of whisky." + +An hour later, the Professor, accompanied by me, returned to the bunk- +house. + +"I hope to find them asleep," he said. "I gave them enough alcohol to +induce stupor." + +"How much?" + +"At least a quart." + +I said with deference-- + +"I do not presume to question your treatment, but cowboys can carry an +amazing quantity of whisky. Alcohol is a stimulant-narcotic, isn't +it?" + +"Perfectly." + +"It stimulates first. Speaking from a variegated experience of +cowboys, I should say that a quart of well-matured Bourbon would +barely suffice to stimulate three powerful young men." + +"'Um!" said the Professor thoughtfully. "I had not considered that. +They assured me they were water-drinkers. However, a mistake of that +sort is easily rectified." + +So speaking, he tiptoed to the door of the bunk-house, and, finger +upon lips, entered. Immediately a sharp exclamation indicated that +something surprising had occurred. I followed quickly, to find the +Professor staring, pop-eyed, at three vacant bunks. + +"Gone!" said the Professor, in stupefaction. + +"They can't have gone far, sir." + +But within five minutes judgment upon this important point had to be +suspended. Uncle Jake had obeyed instructions only too well. He had +not been near the bunk-house. Indeed, he and the other ranch hands had +been eating supper more than a hundred yards away. He was the first to +suggest that no cowboy travelled far afoot--a suggestion that sent the +Professor at a smart trot towards the big barn. Here, also, were three +vacant stalls. + +The Professor's patients, illustrating pathetically the ruling +passion, had mounted and galloped away. Uncle Jake said, with a +curious air of conviction-- + +"It's my idee that they want to hev one good time in town before they +cash in their checks." + +"Incredible!" ejaculated the famous pathologist. He looked askance at +me. I replied hesitatingly-- + +"I think it is possible, perhaps probable." + +"If they're makin' San Lorenzy," said Uncle Jake, "we'll find their +store clothes gone too." + +We hastened to the bunk-house. Yes, upon the floor lay flannel shirts +and jumpers and overalls. In a corner, where the Professor had left +it, stood the demijohn of whisky. Uncle Jake lifted it. + +"Gosh," said he, "the whisky's gone, too!" + +"Thank Heaven!" muttered the Professor, wiping his forehead. + +"Why?" + +"Don't you understand? By the luck of things, they've taken their +medicine!" + +"A quart apiece!" I gasped. "We shall find them dead drunk on the +road." + +Uncle Jake delivered himself-- + +"It's my idee that they've jest filled up three bottles. There's a +rubbish heap outside." + +"We must follow them," said the Professor, grimly. He was no horseman, +and San Lorenzo was six-and-twenty miles away. + +"Yes," said Uncle Jake. + +As they approached the barn, the Professor whispered to me-- + +"There is nothing to regret. If I can get these boys into the County +Hospital before to-morrow morning, I shall have done a splendid +night's work. Pick me out a decently mannered horse." + +* * * * * + +After the Professor had administered the first dose of alcohol, his +patients lay quiet for at least three minutes. Then Jimmie said +dolefully-- + +"Badly as she's treated me, I'd like to kiss my Edna good-bye." + +In the silence that followed Pete's rather rasping voice was heard-- + +"I ain't got no best girl!" + +"Ye're in luck," groaned Dan. "This may break pore Mame's heart. When +I'm gone, she'll remember that onst I was the greatest thing on this +green earth to her." + +Presently Pete remarked: "Surgeon an' pathologist is the Perfessor." + +"Meanin'?" + +"Like as not he'll operate." + +"Operate?" + +"Cut us open, you derned fool!" + +Dan retorted savagely: "Now ye're so near yer end, I'd go easy with +sech talk, if I was you." + +"I beg yer pardon," said Pete, "but I'm scairt of the Perfessor's eye. +Anyways, sink or swim, I'll hev no man gittin' his knife into me." + +Dan sat up. + +"Boys," he said emphatically, "you kin do as you please, but I'm goin' +to hev a las' kind word with my Mame." + +He slipped out of his bunk. + +"Me too," said Jimmie. He glanced at Pete, who lay still. "My regards +to the Perfessor, and tell him that he'll find us at old man +Greiffenhagen's. I'll hev one more taste of happiness before I die." + +Dan hauled out his battered trunk and opened it. Pete sat up. + +"Talkin' o' tasting, so will I," said he. "Give me that ther demijohn. +I'll die like the Dook o' Clarence." + +Jimmie picked up the demijohn and looked at it with lingering eyes. + +"Sorry I promised Maw to let whisky alone." + +"If it comes to that," said Pete, "what's the matter with callin' it +medicine?" + +"Gee! So it is." He took out the cork and tipped up the demijohn, +balancing it skilfully upon his right forearm. + +"Pass it over," said Pete. + +"After you," added Dan. + +"Go easy," said Pete shortly. "You two fellers mean to expire in the +arms o' ministerin' angels. Leave the demijohn with me." + +"What! You'd hog all the medicine? Why, Pete Holloway, I thought you +was white!" + +"Put that demijohn down." + +Dan glanced at Jimmie, who was drawing on his best pants. + +"Say, Jimmie, we'll hev to take the medicine along. There's a plenty +for Pete in the cellar." + +Pete slipped out of his bunk. + +"Look ye here," he said. "I ain't goin' to face the Perfessor alone. +I'll come with ye, but let there be no huggin' before me; and, I say, +divide the medicine." + +"Now yer talkin'," said Dan, approvingly. + +The three men dressed rapidly, opened the door, and peered out. Nobody +being in sight, they secured three empty bottles, which they filled +with the medicine. Five minutes later they were leading their saddle- +horses out of the barn. Unobserved, they mounted and took the road. + +"How air you two feelin'?" said Pete, as they broke into an easy +"lope." + +"Thunder and Mars!" exclaimed Dan. "It's a doggoned fact, but I'm +feeling fine." + +"It's the medicine," said Jimmie, athirst for more. + +"The Perfessor's a stem-winder, an' no mistake," said Pete. "Let's +drink his health--onst." + +They did so--twice. + +Old man Greiffenhagen's was about two miles distant. With him lodged +Miss Edna Parkinson and Miss Mary Willing. These young ladies were +bosom friends, and members of the Women's Christian Temperance Union. +We describe them adequately enough by adding that they were capable, +pretty and good. + +By this time it was nearly nine o'clock, but a light shone in the +Greiffenhagen parlour. As the young men dismounted and hitched their +horses to the fence, the strains from an American organ were heard. + +Pete rapped upon the door, which was opened by Greiffenhagen. He kept +the village store, which was also the post-office, and, although +German himself, had married an American wife. Pete said in a loud +voice-- + +"It's kind o' late, but this is a P.P.C. call." + +As he spoke, there was wafted to the nostrils of Greiffenhagen the +familiar fragrance of Bourbon. He glanced at Dan and Jimmie. Each +appeared almost abnormally sober and solemn. At this moment Miss Mary +Willing flitted up. + +"Why, it's Mr. Holloway!" she exclaimed stiffly. + +The three entered. As they passed the threshold, Jimmie stumbled, but +recovered himself. He saluted the ladies with decorum, and the three +sat down upon the edge of the chairs that were offered to them. Then +Miss Edna Parkinson, who was the only person present besides Pete who +understood what was meant by a P.P.C. call, and who knew also that, +the big _rodeo_ being over, it was possible that the three +cowboys had been discharged, said sympathetically-- + +"You ain't leaving these parts, are you?" + +Pete answered grimly: "It's more'n likely that we air." + +Edna glanced at Mamie, who was sniffing. + +"What is it I smell?" she asked. + +"Medicine," said Dan. He knew that Pete, the walking dictionary, could +be trusted to break the appalling news to these unhappy girls. He +glanced at Mr. Holloway and nodded. + +"Yes," said Pete, "you smell medicine. It was prescribed by the +distinguished surgeon an' pathologist, Perfessor Adam Chawner." + +"Prescribed? Why?" + +Once, in the dear dead days that were gone, Pete had owned a best +girl, who had treated him ill. Ever since he had exhibited a not too +chivalrous desire to "git even" with the fond but fickle sex. Also he +had no respect for the W.C.T.U. + +"The trouble come o' drinkin' too much water." + +"Too much water?" + +"We three hev bin wallerin' at a pizoned spring. The Perfessor may +pull us through, but it's no cert. Much the contrairy. Likely as not +you'll be attendin' our funerals within' the week. Dan and Jimmie tuk +a notion that they'd like to forgive ye, an' I come along too because +I reckon misery loves company. But I made this stippilation--no +huggin' before me, if you please." + +"Is he--d-d-drunk?" faltered Edna. + +"I'm nearly drunk," said Pete. "This yere pizon is same as rattlesnake +pizon. We've got to be kep' filled plum up with whisky." He produced +his bottle and placed it carefully upon the floor, then he added: +"When I can't help myself, I count on you, old man"--he looked at +Greiffenhagen--"to pour it down my throat." + +"Dan," said Miss Willing, "can't you say something?" + +"I'm razzle-dazzled," said Dan. "But I couldn't die without forgivin' +yer." + +"Edna," said Jimmie, with a sob in his voice, "I have no hard feelin's +left." + +"These three _beasts_," said Mrs. Greiffenhagen, in a hard, +unwavering voice, "are disgracefully and unblushingly intoxicated. +Girls, leave the room!" + +The girls looked at each other. Mamie Willing leapt to the situation. +Upon a small marble-topped table reposed an immense family Bible. +Mamie lifted it and approached Pete. + +"Swear on this that your terrible story is true." + +"I swear," said Pete solemnly, and he kissed the Book. Edna flung +herself into Jimmie's arms; Mamie, after replacing the Bible, knelt +sobbing at Dan's side. Pete said helplessly to old man Greiffenhagen: +"Take me outer this!" + +Mrs. Greiffenhagen said in the same hard monotone: "Mr. Greiffenhagen, +either these men leave this house or I do." + +The storekeeper led his wife aside and whispered to her. She nodded +none too graciously, and he hurried from the room. + +"Wheer's he goin'?" asked Pete. + +"He's goin' up ter the ranch-house," said Mrs. Greiffenhagen +spitefully, "ter fetch the Professor." + +"Very right an' proper," yawned Pete. "Would it be trespassin' too +much on yer kindness to ask for three glasses? It's time we downed +some more medicine, an' I don't like to drink outer the bottle in this +yere parlour." + +Mrs. Greiffenhagen folded her hands. She had been heard to declare in +public that if she were dying, and a thimbleful of whisky would +restore her to health and Mr. Greiffenhagen, she would not swallow it. + +The three men took more medicine. Presently Mamie supported Dan to the +sofa; Edna was sitting on the floor with Jimmie's head on her lap. +Mrs. Greiffenhagen glared at Pete, who from time to time kissed his +hand to her. Not till she heard footsteps on the porch outside did the +good lady rise from her chair. She opened the door to admit her +husband. He reeled in. + +"You too!" she said in a freezing voice. + +Greiffenhagen explained. The boys were really poisoned, and whisky +must be poured down their throats till stronger remedies arrived. The +Professor, Ajax, and Uncle Jake were riding to San Lorenzo upon a +wild-goose chase. He added that the boss was driving down with more +whisky. + +Within a few minutes I arrived with the whisky; and Mrs. Greiffenhagen +was constrained to unbend. It was decided to put the men to bed, +pending the arrival of the Professor. Two vaqueros were galloping +after him in the hope of overtaking him before he had gone too far. +Dan was undressed and placed in Miss Willing's muslin-curtained bed; +Jimmie who would not permit his clothes to be removed, was laid upon +the couch of Edna Parkinson. Pete was carried into the Greiffenhagen +bedroom, and deposited, boots and all, upon a spotless white +bedspread. + +"Jiminy Christmas," said Greiffenhagen, "ain't it awful!" + +At regular intervals the medicine was administered. Finally, what the +Professor had desired came to pass. The three men lay senseless, +breathing stertorously. To achieve this result more than a gallon of +the best whisky had been used! Mamie and Edna began to exhibit +symptoms of hysteria. + +"I'll never leave my Dan--never!" declared Mamie, when it was +suggested that she should return to the parlour. + +"Jimmie, dear," sobbed Edna, "if you'll promise me not to die, I'll +never speak to Mr. Greenberg again!" + +* * * * * + +At about six the next morning Pete Holloway woke up. He opened his +eyes, groaned deeply, and closed them again. + +"How are you feeling, Pete?" said I. + +Pete groaned again, for memory of all that had passed came to him. +With a tremendous effort he said-- + +"I'm dyin'!" + +And he looked it. + +In Miss Parkinson's bower, Jimmie Barker was saying faintly: "Kiss me +good-bye, Edna; the hour has come!" + +Shortly before, Mamie had whispered to Dan: "Darling, can you forgive +me?" And he had replied fervently: "Mame, if Jack Rice kin make you +happy, you take him." + +Greiffenhagen had tried to administer more medicine. The boys refused +to touch it. Pete expressed the feelings of the others when he +muttered: "I ain't goin' to cross the Jordan drunk!" + +It seemed to me that the three men were sinking. Mrs. Greiffenhagen, +an impassioned pessimist, was of opinion that they couldn't last +another hour! + +At nine, when our nerves had been strained to breaking-point, Ajax and +a big-bearded stranger galloped up to Greiffenhagen's house. + +"It's Doc. Elkins, of San Lorenzy," said a hired man. + +"The boys are sinking!" sobbed Mrs. Greiffenhagen. "Where is the +Professor?" + +"I left him in San Lorenzo." + +Elkins and Ajax rushed upstairs and into the Greiffenhagen bedroom. +Elkins glanced at Pete, felt his pulse, and then said deliberately-- + +"My man, you're dying of sheer funk! You've poisoned yourself with +nothing more deadly than good Kentucky whisky! In six hours you'll be +perfectly well again." + +Pete heard, and pulled himself together. It struck him that this was +not the first time that he had felt nearly dead after imbibing much +whisky. + +"But the Perfessor?" he asked feebly. + +"Professor Adam Chawner," said Elkins in a clear voice, "is in a +strait-waistcoat at the County Hospital. He will get over this, but +not so quickly as you will. He is quite mad for the moment about a +deadly microbe which only exists in his imagination." + +The partitions in most Californian houses are indecently thin. As +Elkins's voice died away--and Pete said afterwards it was like a +strain of heavenly music--a feeble cheer was heard from the chamber +usually occupied by Miss Mary Willing. + +"Jimmie," cried Dan, "air you dead yet?" + +"Not quite," came an attenuated whisper from the other side of the +passage. + +"We'll live to be married, old socks," continued Dan in a robuster +voice, "but I've got the worst dose o' prickly heat you ever saw." + +The following day our three friends were riding the range. Six months +afterwards, Professor Adam Chawner resumed his work at the Smithsonian +Institute. + + + + +XII + +THE BABE + + +One of the Britishers who came to Paradise was an Irishman, the son of +an archdeacon with a large family and a small income. He was a +strapping fellow, strong and sturdy as a camel--and quite as +obstinate. He always spoke affectionately of his people, but I fancy +they were not deeply grieved when he left England. I dare say he was +troublesome at home; you know what that means. However, he was warmly +welcomed in Paradise, for he brought with him two hundred pounds in +cash, and a disposition to spend it as quickly as possible. Ajax +christened him The Babe, because he had a milk-and-roses complexion, +and a babe's capacity for, and love of, liquid refreshment. Perhaps +the archdeacon thought that the West was a sort of kindergarten, where +children like The Babe are given, at small expense, object-lessons and +exercises peculiarly adapted to young and plastic minds. In Central +America certain tribes living by the seaboard throw their children +into the surf, wherein they sink or learn to swim, as the Fates +decree. Some sink. + +When The Babe's two hundred pounds were spent, he came to us and asked +for a job. He said, I remember, that he was the son of an archdeacon, +and that he could trust us to bear that in mind. We were so impressed +by his guileless face and cock-a-hoop assurance, that we had not the +heart to turn him away. + +At the end of a fortnight Ajax took pencil and paper, and computed +what The Babe had cost us. He had staked a valuable horse; he had +smashed a patent reaper; he had set fire to the ranch, and burnt up +five hundred acres of bunch grass; and he had turned some of our quiet +domestic cows into wild beasts, because--as he put it--he wished to +become a vaquero. He said that the billet of foreman would just suit +his father's son. + +"The equivalent of what The Babe has destroyed," said my brother Ajax, +"if put out at compound interest, five per cent., would in a hundred +years amount to more than fifty thousand pounds." + +"I'm awfully sorry," murmured The Babe. + +"I fear," observed Ajax to me later, "that we cannot afford to nurse +this infant." + +I was of the same opinion; so The Babe departed, and for a season we +saw his chubby face no more. Then one day, like a bolt from the blue, +came an unstamped letter from San Francisco. The Babe wrote to ask for +money. Such letters, as a rule, may be left unanswered, but not +always. Ajax and I read The Babe's ill-written lines, and filled in +the gaps in the text. Connoted and collated, it became a manuscript of +extraordinary interest and significance. We inferred that if the sum +demanded were not sent, the writer might be constrained to cast +himself as rubbish to the void. Now The Babe had his little failings, +but cowardice was not one of them. Indeed, his physical courage +redeemed in a sense his moral and intellectual weakness. + +"There is only one thing to do," said Ajax; "we must rescue The Babe. +We'll spin a dollar to determine who goes to the city to-morrow +morning." + +I nodded, for I was smelling the letter; the taint of opium was on it. + +"Awful--isn't it?" murmured Ajax. "Do you remember those loathsome +dens in Chinatown? And the creatures on the mats, and in the bunks! +And that missionary chap, who said how hard it was to reclaim them. +Poor Babe!" + +Then we filled our pipes and smoked them slowly. We had plenty to +think about, for rescuing an opium-fiend is no easy job, and +reclaiming him afterwards is as hard again. But The Babe's blue eyes +and his pink skin--what did they look like now?--were pleading on his +behalf, and we remembered that he had played in his school eleven, and +could run a quarter-mile in fifty-eight seconds, and was always cheery +and good-tempered. The woods of the Colonies and the West are full of +such Babes; and they all like to play with edged tools. + +Next day we both went north. Ajax said that two heads were better than +one, and that it was not wise to trust oneself alone in the stews of +San Francisco. The police will not tell you how many white men are +annually lost in those festering alleys that lie north of Kearney +Street, but if you are interested in such matters, I can refer you to +a certain grim-faced guide, who has spent nearly twenty years in +Chinatown, and you can implicitly believe one quarter of what he says: +that quarter will strain your credulity not a little. + +We walked to the address given in the letter--a low dive--not a +stone's-throw from one of the biggest hotels west of the Rocky +Mountains. The man behind the bar said that he knew The Babe well, +that he was a perfect gentleman, and a personal friend of his. The +fellow's glassy eyes and his grey-green skin told their own story. A +more villainous or crafty-looking scoundrel it has been my good +fortune not to see. + +"Where is your friend?" said Ajax. + +The man behind the bar protested ignorance. Then my brother laid a +five-dollar gold piece upon the country, and repeated the question. +The man's yellow fingers began to tremble. Gold to him was opium, and +opium held all his world and the glory thereof. + +"I can't take you to him--now," he muttered sullenly. + +"You can," replied Ajax, "and you must." + +The man glared at us. Doubtless he guessed the nature of our errand, +and wished to protect his friend from the interference of Philistines, +Then he smiled evilly, and laughed. + +"All right; come on. I ain't goin' to take yer to the Palace Hotel." + +He opened the till and slipped some money into his pocket. Then he put +on a ragged overcoat, and a hat which he drew down over his eyes with +a furtive jerk of his yellow fingers. Then he went behind the bar and +swallowed something; it was not whisky, but it brought a faint tinge +of colour into his cheek, and seemed to stiffen his knees. + +"Shall we walk, boys, or shall I send for my carriage?" + +"Your carriage," repeated Ajax. "Are you speaking of the patrol- +waggon? It is just round the corner." + +This allusion to the police was not wasted upon The Babe's friend, who +scowled and retorted glibly-- + +"There's better men than you, mister, who ride in that." + +After this exchange of pleasantries we took the road, and followed our +guide across a great thorough-fare and into Kearney Street. Thence +into the labyrinth of Chinatown. + +"Think ye could find yer way out of this?" asked our guide presently. + +We had passed through an abominable rookery, and were walking down a +narrow alley, seemingly deserted. Yet I was sensible that eyes were +furtively watching us from behind barred windows, and I fancied that I +heard whispers--mere guttural sounds, that conveyed nothing to the +ear, save, perhaps, a warning that we were on unholy ground. The path +we trod was foul with refuse; the stench was sickening; the most +forlorn cur would surely have slunk from such a kennel; and here, +_here_, to this lazar-house of all that was unclean and infamous, +came of his own free-will--The Babe! + +"My God!" exclaimed Ajax, in reply. "How can any man find his way +_into_ it? And, hark ye, my friend, for reasons that we won't +trouble you with, we have not asked the police to accompany us, but if +we are not back at our hotel in two hours' time, the clerk has +instructions to send a constable to your saloon." + +"Here we air," said our guide. "Duck yer heads." + +We stooped beneath a low arch, and entered a dark passage. At the end +was a rickety staircase; and already we could smell the pungent fumes +of the opium, and taste its bitterness. As I groped my way down the +stairs I was conscious of an uncanny silence, a silence eloquent of a +sleep that is as death, a sleep that always ends in death. It was easy +to conceive death as a hideous personality lurking at the bottom of +those rotten stairs, waiting patiently for his victims; not +constrained to go abroad for them, knowing that they were creeping to +him, creeping and crawling, unassoiled by priest, hindered by no +physician, unredeemed by love, deaf, and blind, and dumb! + +* * * * * + +At the foot of the stairs was another passage, darker and filthier +than the one above; the walls were streaming with moisture, and the +atmosphere almost unendurable. At that time the traffic in opium was +receiving the serious attention of the authorities. Certain scandalous +cases of bribery at the Custom House had stirred the public mind, and +the police were instructed to raid all opium dens, and arrest +whomsoever might be found in them. The devotees of the "pipe" were +accordingly compelled to lie snug in places without the pale of police +supervision: and this awful den was one of them. + +It was now so dark that I could barely distinguish the outlines of our +guide, who walked ahead of me. Suddenly he stopped and asked me if I +had any matches. I handed him my box, which he dropped, and the +matches were scattered about in the mud at our feet. He gave me back +my box, and asked Ajax for his matches. I dare say older and wiser men +would have apprehended mischief, but we were still in our salad days. +Ajax gave up his box without a protest; the man struck a match, after +some fumbling lit a piece of candle, and returned to my brother his +box. It was empty--for he had cleverly transferred the matches to his +own pocket--but we did not know that then. By the light of the candle +I was able to take stock of my surroundings. We were facing a stout +door: a door that without doubt had been constructed for purposes of +defence, and upon the centre of this our guide tapped softly--three +times. It opened at once, revealing the big body of a Celestial, +evidently the Cerberus of the establishment. Upon his fat impassive +face lay the seal of an unctuous secrecy, nothing more. Out of his +obliquely-set eyes he regarded us indifferently, but he nodded to our +guide, who returned the salutation with a sly laugh. For some +inexplicable reason that laugh fired my suspicions. It was--so to +speak--an open sesame to a chamber of horrors, the more horrible +because intangible and indescribable. Ajax said afterwards that he was +similarly affected. The contagion of fear is a very remarkable thing, +and one little understood by the physiologists. I remember I put my +hand into my pocket, because it began to tremble, and I was ashamed of +it. And then, as I still stared at the fat Chinaman, his smooth mask +seemed to drop from his face, and treachery, cunning, greed, hatred of +the "white devil" were revealed to me. + +I was now convinced we had come on a fool's errand that was like to +end evilly for us, but, being a fool, I held my peace and said nothing +to Ajax, who confessed later that if I had spoken he would have +seconded a motion to retreat. We advanced, sensible that we were being +trapped: a psychological fact not without interest. + +Opposite the door through which we had just passed was another door as +stout as the first. The Chinaman unlocked this with a small key, and +allowed us to enter, the guide with the candle leading the way. And +then, in a jiffy, before we had time to glance round us, the candle +was extinguished; the door was closed; we heard the click of a patent +lock; and we knew that we were alone and in darkness. + +The first thing that Ajax said, and his voice was not pleasant to +hear, was: "This serves us right. Of all the confounded fools who +meddle with what does not concern them, we are the greatest." + +Then I heard him fumbling for his matchbox, and then, when he +discovered that it was empty, he made some more remarks not flattering +to himself or me. I was more frightened than angry; with him rage and +disgust were paramount. + +We stood there in that squalid darkness for about a hundred years (it +was really ten minutes), and then the voice of our guide seemed to +float to us, as if from an immeasurable distance. + +"Boys," he said. "How air ye makin' it?" + +Ajax answered him quite coolly-- + +"What do you want? Our money of course. What else?" + +The fellow did not reply at once. These opium fiends have no bowels of +compassion. He was doubtless chuckling to himself at his own guile. +When he did speak, the malice behind his words lent them point. + +"Your money? The five you gave me'll keep me a week, and after that +I'll come for more." + +With that the voice died away, and Ajax muttered: "It looks to me as +if this were a case of putting up the shutters." + +We had forgotten all about The Babe, which is not surprising under the +circumstances. + +"Putting _up_ the shutters? Pulling them down, you mean! there +must be a window of sorts in this room." + +But after careful search we came to the conclusion that we were +directly under the road-bed, and that the only opening of any kind was +the door through which we had passed. I thought of that door and the +face of the man behind it. For what purpose save robbery and murder +was such a room designed? I could not confront the certainty of +violence with a jest, as Ajax did, but I was of his opinion otherwise +expressed: we had been trapped like rats in a blind drain, and would +be knocked on the head--presently. + +The uncertainty began to gnaw at our vitals. We did not speak, for +darkness is the twin of silence, but our thoughts ran riot. I remember +that I almost screamed when Ajax laid his hand on my shoulder, and yet +I knew that he was standing by my side. + +"I shall try the heathen Chinee," he whispered. So we felt our way to +the door and tapped three times, very softly, on the centre panel. To +the Oriental mind those taps spell bribery, but the door remained +shut. + +"What have you been thinking about?" said Ajax, after another silence. + +"My God--don't ask me." + +"Brace up!" said my brother. I confess that he has steadier nerves +than mine, but then, you see, he has not my imagination. I put my hand +into his, and the grip he gave me was reassuring. I reflected that men +built upon the lines of Ajax are not easily knocked on the head. + +"It's a tight place," he continued. "But we've been in tight places +before, although none that smells as close as this infernal hole. Now +listen: I'm prepared to lay odds that The Babe is not an opium fiend +at all, and has never been near this den. He wrote that letter at the +saloon, didn't he? And ten to one he borrowed the paper from the bar- +tender. That's why it smelled of opium. The handwriting was very +shaky. Why? because The Babe was only half alive after a prolonged +spree. That accounted for the tone of the letter. The Babe was +thinking of the parsonage, and his mother's knee, and all that. You +follow me--eh? Now then, I think it barely possible that instead of +our rescuing The Babe, he will rescue us. We got in late last night, +but our names were chronicled in the morning papers, for I saw them +there. If The Babe sees a paper he will go to our hotel, and----" + +"If we're hanging by that thread to eternity, God help us," I replied +bitterly, for the grim humour of my brother's speech chilled my +marrow. + +"It _is_ a slim chance, but--hang it--a slim chance is better +than none." + +So we hugged that sorry comfort to our hearts and fell again into +silence. + +* * * * * + +I remember that the folly, the fatuity of what we had done, oppressed +me like an iron band around the skull. Common sense told me that the +man who had decoyed us into Chinatown would not be satisfied with +robbery. And what were the lives of two "white devils" to the owner of +this den? Suffered to escape, we might inform the police. The logical +conclusion of my reflections is not worth recording. + +"When that scoundrel emptied the till into his pocket he made up his +mind there and then never to come back," said Ajax in my ear. His +thoughts had been travelling along the same lines as mine, and at +about the same pace. I was convinced of this when he added slowly: +"Starvation may be their game. It would be the safest to play." + +Then the mad, riotous desire to fight got hold of both of us. We began +to search for a weapon: anything--a stick, a stone, a bit of iron. But +we found nothing. + +We had never carried pistols, and our pocket knives were hardly keen +or strong enough to sharpen a pencil. + +Despair was again gripping me when Ajax touched my arm. We had +examined the filthy floor of the room very systematically, kneeling +side by side in the darkness and groping with eager fingers in the +dirty sand, for there was no floor. + +"I have something," he murmured. Then he seized my right hand in his +left and guided it to some solid object lying deep in the sand. + +The object proved to be a log. San Francisco is built on sand dunes, +and in early days the houses were log-cabins for the most part, +constructed of logs that two stout men could handle. After many +minutes of silent but most vigorous excavation we joyfully decided +that one of these very logs had come into our possession. + +We worked steadily for about half an hour, pausing now and again to +listen. We were practically certain that the opium fiend had gone to +his pipe, and it was more than probable that the fat Mongol was no +longer on guard, knowing that we were safe in a strong-box to which he +alone held the key. Events proved we were wrong in both conjectures. + +When the log was ready for use as a battering-ram we held a council of +war, which lasted about half a minute. If there is obviously only one +thing to be done, the sooner it is done the better. I grasped the +forward end of our weapon, Ajax, being the heavier, took the other, +and we charged that door with such hearty goodwill that at the first +assault it yielded, lock and hinges being torn from the woodwork, and +the door itself falling flat with a crash like the crack o' doom. +Ajax, the log, and I rolled into the next room, and as we were +grovelling on the floor I saw that the room was full of Chinamen, and +that our late guide was in the middle of them. The light was so bad +that I was unable to see more than this. It was plain that we had to +deal with an organised gang of criminals. Thugs who practised their +trade as a fine art. Despite all proverbs the foreseen is what +generally happens; and our amazing advent in their midst created a +sort of panic whereby we took advantage. The Celestials carried +knives, but they dared not use them, because the light was so dim and +the room so crowded. The first thing that I saw when I scrambled to my +feet was the fat dull face of the guard shining like a harvest moon, +and presenting a mark for my fist as round and big as a punching-bag. +I hit him once--and that was enough. Then I began to hear the measured +thud of my brother's blows, the blows of a workman who knows how to +strike and where to strike. + +At first they took their medicine without a whimper. Then they began +to squeal and chatter as the fear of the "white devils" got hold of +them. Very soon I saw "red," as our Tommies say, and remembered +nothing till I came to myself in the passage at the foot of the rotten +stairs. We scurried up these and through the warren above like rabbits +when the pole-cat pursueth, and finally found ourselves in the alley, +where we called a halt. + +"By Jove!" said Ajax, "that was a ruction." + +I looked at him and burst out laughing: then he looked at me and +laughed louder than I. Our clothes were in rags; our faces were red +and black with blood and grime; every bone and sinew and muscle in our +bodies ached and ached from the strain of strife. + +"It is not time to laugh yet," said my brother; and we ran on down the +alley, out into a small by-street, and straight into the arms of a +policeman, who promptly arrested us. + +* * * * * + +The rest of the story was in the newspapers next day, although there +was no mention of our names. When the police reached the battlefield +they found one dead man--the opium-eating and smoking bar-tender. He +had died--so said the doctor--of heart failure. Few whites can smoke +the "pipe" with impunity, and he was not of their number. The wounded +had been carried away, and, despite the strenuous endeavours of the +police, not one was arrested, which proves that there is honour +amongst these yellow-faced thieves, for a handful of gold-pieces and +"no questions asked" was well known in Chinatown to be the price +offered for any information that would lead to the capture of one or +more of the gang. + +When we reached our hotel we found The Babe patiently awaiting us. His +complexion was slightly the worse for wear, but his eyes were as blue +as ever and almost as guileless. How wide they opened when he listened +to our story! How indignant he waxed when he learned that we had +condemned him, the son of an archdeacon, as an opium fiend. However, +he was very penitent, and returned with us to the ranch, where he dug +post-holes for a couple of months, and behaved like a model babe. Ajax +wrote to the archdeacon, and in due season The Babe returned to +England, where he wisely enlisted as a trooper in a smart cavalry +regiment, a corps that his grandfather had commanded. The pipeclay was +in his marrow, and he became in time rough-riding sergeant of the +regiment. I am told that soon he will be offered a commission. + +This story contains two morals: both so obvious that they need not be +recorded. + + + + +XIII + +THE BARON + + +Of the many queer characters who took up land in the brush hills near +our ranch none excited greater tongue-wagging than the Baron. The +squatters called him the Baron. He signed his name--I had to witness +his signature--Rene Bourgueil. + +The Baron built himself a bungalow on a small hill overlooking a +pretty lake which dried up in summer and smelled evilly. Also, he +spent money in planting out a vineyard and orchard, and in making a +garden. What he did not know about ranching in Southern California +would have filled an encyclopaedia, but what he did know about nearly +everything else filled us and our neighbours with an ever-increasing +amazement and curiosity. + +Why did such a man bury himself in the brush hills of San Lorenzo +County? + +More, he was past middle-age: sixty-five at least, not a sportsman, +nor a naturalist, but obviously a _gentilhomme_, with the manners +of one accustomed to the best society. + +Of society, however, he spoke mordant words-- + +"Soziety in Europe, to-day," he said to me, shortly after his arrival, +"ees a big monkey-house, and all ze monkeys are pulling each ozer's +tails. I pull no tails, _moi_, and I allow no liberties to be +taken wiz my person." + +About a month later the Baron was dining with us, and I reminded him +of what he had said. He laughed, shrugging his shoulders. + +"_Mon cher_, ze monkeys in your backwoods are more-- +_diable!_--moch more aggr-r-ressive zan ze monkeys in ze old +world." + +"They pull tails there," said Ajax, "but here they pull legs as well-- +eh?" + +The Baron smiled ruefully, sticking out a slender, delicately formed +foot and ankle. + +"Yes," he said thoughtfully, "old man Dumble, he pull my leg." + +The Dumbles were neighbours of the Baron, and their sterile acres +marched with his. John Jacob Dumble's word might be as good or better +than his bond, but neither was taken at par. It was said of him that +he preferred to take cash for telling a lie rather than credit for +telling the truth. Dumble, as we knew, had sold the Baron one horse +and saddle, one Frisian-Holstein cow, and an incubator. The saddle +gave the horse a sore back, the horse fell down and broke its knees, +the cow dried up in a fortnight, and the incubator cooked eggs to +perfection, but it wouldn't incubate them. + +"I use it as a stove," said the Baron. + +Next summer, when the pretty lake dried up and began to smell, we +advised the Baron to take a holiday. We told him of pleasant, +hospitable people in San Francisco, in Menlo, and at Del Monte, who +would be charmed to make his acquaintance. + +"San Francisco? _Jamais, jamais de la vie!_" + +"Come with us to Del Monte?" + +"Del Monte?" + +We explained that Del Monte was a huge hotel standing in lovely +gardens which ran down to the sea. + +"_Jamais--jamais_," repeated the Baron. + +"We don't like to leave you at the mercy of John Jacob Dumble," said +Ajax. + +"You have right. I make not harmony wiz ze old man Dumble." + +We went home sorely puzzled. Obviously the Baron had private reasons, +and strong ones, for keeping out of San Francisco and Del Monte. And +it was significant--as Ajax said to me--that a man who could talk so +admirably upon art, politics, and literature never spoke a word +concerning himself. + +At Del Monte we happened to meet the French Consul. From him we +learned that there was a certain Rene, Comte de Bourgueil-Crotanoy. +The Chateau Bourgueil-Crotanoy in Morbihan is nearly as famous as +Chaumont or Chenonceau. The Consul possessed an _Almanack de +Gotha_. From this we gleaned two more facts. Rene, Comte de +Bourgueil, had two sons, and no kinsmen whatever. + +"Your man," said the Consul discreetly, "must be somebody--you say he +is _somebody_--well, somebody else!" + +"Another Wilkins," said I. + +"Pooh!" ejaculated Ajax. + +"No Frenchman of the Comte de Bourgueil's position and rank--he is a +godson, you know, of the Comte de Chambord--would come to California +without my knowledge," said the Consul. + +The day after our return to the ranch we rode over to see how the +Baron fared. We found him in a tent pitched as far as possible from +the evil-smelling lake. Passing the bungalow, we had noted that six +weeks' uninterrupted sunshine had played havoc with the Baron's +garden. The man himself, moreover, seemed to have wilted. The sun had +sucked the colour from his eyes and cheeks. Of a sudden, old age had +overtaken him. + +He greeted us with his usual courtesy, and asked if we had enjoyed our +holiday. We told him many things about Del Monte, but we didn't +mention the French Consul. Then, in our turn, we begged for such news +as he might have. He replied solemnly-- + +"I speak no more wiz ze Dumbles. Old man Dumble ees a fraud. +_Moi_, I abominate frauds--_hein?_ He obtain my money onder +false pretences, is it not so? Ah, yes; but I forgive 'im, because he +is poor. But also, since you go, he obtain my secret--I haf a secret-- +under false pretences. Oh, ze _canaille_! I tell 'im that if 'e +were my equal I would wiz my sword s-spit 'im. Because 'e is +_canaille_ I s-s-spit at 'im. _Voila!_" + +The old fellow was trembling with rage and indignation. Ajax said +gravely-- + +"We foreigners mustn't spit at free-born American citizens. What +spitting is done here, they do themselves." + +"You have right. Ze _canaille_ say to me, to _me_, 'Come,' +he say, 'come, Baron, I have one six-shooter, one shot-gun, two +pitchfork, three spade, and one mowing-machine. Take your choice,' he +say, 'and we can fight till ze cows come home!' He use zose words, +_mes amis_, 'till ze cows come home!' _Tiens!_ Ze Frisian- +Holstein cows, who go dry when zey do come home--_hein?_" + +He was so furiously angry that we dared not laugh, but we were +consumed with curiosity to know what secret Dumble had stolen. The +Baron did not inform us. + +Fortunately for our peace of mind, Dumble came to us early next +morning. He went to the marrow of the matter at once. + +"Boys," said he, "I want you to fix up things between me an' that +crazy Frenchman. How's that? Your friend. Wal, he _is_ a Frenchy, +an' he's crazy, as I'm prepared to prove. But I don't want no trouble +with him. He's my neighbour, and there ought to be nothin' between me +an' him." + +"There'll always be a barbed wire fence," said Ajax. + +"Boys, when that ther' pond o' the Baron's tuk to smellin' like dead +cats, he come to me and asks me to find someone to take keer o' the +bungalow. I undertook the job myself. I was to water them foreign +plants o' his, do odd chores, and sleep in the house nights. He +offered good pay, and I got a few dollars on account. I aimed to treat +the Baron right, as I treat all my neighbours. I meant to do more, +more than was agreed on. That's the right sperit--ain't it? Yas. An' +so, when I found out that there was a room in that ther' bungalow +locked up, by mistake as I presoomed, and that the key o' the little +parlour opened it, why, naterally, boys, I jest peaked in to see if +everything was O.K. As for pryin' and spyin', why sech an idee never +entered my head. Wal, I peaked in an' I saw----" + +"Hold on," said Ajax. "What you saw is something which the Baron +wished to be kept secret." + +"I reckon so, though why in thunder----" + +"Then keep it secret----" + +"But, mercy sakes! I saw nothing, not a thing, boys, save two picters +and a few old sticks of furniture. An' seeing that things was O.K., I +shet the door, but doggone it! the cussed key wouldn't lock it. Nex' +morning the Baron found it open, and, Jeeroosalem! I never seen a man +git so mad." + +"And that's all?" + +"That's all, but me an' the Baron ain't speakin'." + +We promised to do what we could, more, it must be confessed, on the +Baron's account than for the sake of old man Dumble. Accordingly, we +tried to persuade the Baron that his secret at any rate was still +inviolate. He listened incredulously. + +"He says he saw nothing--but some pictures and old furniture." + +"_Mon Dieu!_ an' zey tell 'im nossing. _Saperlipopette!_ +Come wiz me. I can trust you. You shall know my secret, too." + +We followed him in silence up the path which led to the bungalow, and +into the house. The Baron unlocked a door and unbolted some shutters. +We saw two portraits, splendid portraits of two handsome young men in +uniform. Above the mantelpiece hung an emblazoned pedigree: the +family tree of the Bourgueil-Crotanoy, peers of France. The Baron laid +a lean finger upon one of the names. + +"I am Rene de Bourgueil-Crotanoy," he said. + +We waited. When he spoke again his voice had changed. It was the voice +of a very old man, tired out, indifferent, poignantly feeble. + +"My boys," said he, indicating the two young men, "zey are dead; no +one of ze old Bourgueil-Crotanoy is left except me--and I, as you see, +am half dead. Perhaps I was too proud; my confessor tell me so, +always. I was--I am still--proud of my race, of my chateau. I was not +permitted to serve Republican France, but I gave her my boys. They +went to Tonquin; I remained at home, thinking of ze day when zey would +return, and marry, and give me handsome grandchildren. Zey did--not-- +return. Zey died. One in battle, one of fever in ze hospital. What was +left for me, _mes amis_? Could I live on in ze place where I had +seen my children and my children's children? No. Could I meet in Paris +ze pitying eyes of friends?" + +* * * * * + +Years afterwards, Ajax and I found ourselves in Morbihan. We paid a +pilgrimage to the Chateau de Bourgueil-Crotanoy, and entered the +chapel where the last of the Bourgueil-Crotanoy is buried. A mural +tablet records the names, and the manner of death, of the two sons. +Also a line in Latin: + +"'Tis better to die young than to live on to behold the misfortunes +and emptiness of an ancient house." + + + + +XIV + +JIM'S PUP + + +Jim Misterton was a quiet, reserved fellow, who had come straight to +Paradise from a desk in some dingy London counting-house. He told us +that something was wrong with his lungs, and that the simple life had +been prescribed. He was very green, very sanguine, and engaged to be +married--a secret confided to us later, when acquaintance had ripened +into friendship. Every Sunday Jim would ride down to our ranch, sup +with us, and smoke three pipes upon the verandah, describing at great +length the process of transmuting the wilderness into a garden. He +built a small board-and-batten house, planted a vineyard and orchard, +bought a couple of cows and an incubator. Reserved about matters +personal to himself, he never grew tired of describing his +possessions, nor of speculating in regard to their possibilities. If +ever a man counted his chickens before the eggs had been placed in the +incubator, Jim Misterton was he. + +Ajax and I listened in silence to these outpourings. Ajax contended-- +perhaps rightly--that Misterton's optimism was part of the "cure." He +bade me remark the young fellow's sparkling eyes and ruddy cheeks. + +"He calls that forsaken claim of his Eden," said my brother. "Shall we +tell him what sort of a Hades it really is?" + +One day, some months after this, we rode up to Eden. It presented the +usual heart-breaking appearance so familiar to men who have lived in a +wild country and witnessed, year after year, the furious struggle +between Man and Nature. Misterton had cleared and planted about forty +acres, enclosed with a barb-wire fence. Riding along this, we saw that +many of his fruit trees had been barked and ruined by jack-rabbits. +The month was September. A rainless summer had dried up a spring near +his house, which, against our advice, he had attempted to develop by +tunnelling. The new chicken-yards held no chickens. + +Nevertheless, Jim welcomed us with a cheery smile. He had made +mistakes, of course--who didn't? But he intended to come out on top, +you bet your life! Western slang flowed freely from his lips. The +blazing sun, which already had cracked the unpainted shingles on his +roof, had bleached the crude blue of his jumper and overalls. His +sombrero might have belonged to a veteran cowboy. Jim wore it with a +rakish list to port, and round his neck fluttered a small, white silk +handkerchief. He looked askance at our English breeches and saddles. +Then he said pleasantly, "I've taken out my naturalisation papers." + +After lunch, he told us about his Angela, and displayed her +photograph. + +"She's coming out," he added shyly, "as soon as I've got things +fixed." + +"Coming out?" we repeated in amazement. + +"It's all settled," said Jim. "I'm to meet her in 'Frisco; we shall be +married, and then I'm going to bring her here for the honeymoon. Won't +it be larks?" + +Ajax answered, without any enthusiasm, "Won't it?" and stared at the +young, pretty face smiling up at him. + +"Angela is as keen about this place as I am," continued the fond and +beaming Jim. "It's going to be Eden for her too, God bless her!" + +Ajax said thoughtfully, "Misterton, you're a lucky devil!" + +We gleaned a few more details. Angela was the daughter of a doctor at +Surbiton, and apparently a damsel of accomplishments. She could punt, +play tennis, dance, sing, and make her own blouses; in a word, a +"ripper," "top-hole," and no mistake! Ajax slightly raised his brows +when we learned that the course of true love had run smooth; but the +doctor's blessing was adequately accounted for--Angela had five +sisters. + +"But when your lungs went wrong----?" + +Misterton laughed. + +"Being a doctor, you see--and a devilish clever chap--he knew that I'd +be as right as rain out here. 'If you want Angela,' he said, 'you must +go full steam for fresh air and sunshine.'" + +Riding home through the cactus and manzanita Ajax said irritably, "Is +there any Paradise on earth without a fool in it?" + +* * * * * + +The following spring, Angela came out. We attended the wedding, Ajax +assisting as best man. Afterwards, somewhat reluctantly, we agreed +that Angela's photograph had aroused expectations not quite satisfied. +She was very pretty, but her manners were neither of the town nor of +the country. Ajax said, "There must be hundreds like her in Upper +Tooting; that's where she ought to live." + +Because I was more than half assured of this, I made a point of +disputing it. + +"She's plastic, anyway; a nice little thing." + +"Is a nice little thing the right sort of a wife for a squatter?" + +"If she loves him--" + +"Of course she loves him--now." + +"Look at her pluck in coming out!" + +"Pluck? She has five sisters in Upper Tooting." + +"Surbiton." + +"I'm sure it's Upper Tooting." + +"And she can make her own blouses." + +"Can she cook, can she milk a cow, can she keep a house clean?" + +"Give her time!" + +"Time? I'd like to give her father six months. What's the use of +jawing? We've been aiding and abetting a crime. We might have +prevented this slaughter of the innocents. What will that skin be like +in one year from now?" + +"If she were sallow, you would be less excited." + +We spent a few days in San Francisco; and then we returned to the +ranch to give a luncheon in the bride's honour. The table was set +under some splendid live-oaks in the home-pasture, which, in May, +presents the appearance of a fine English park. A creek tinkled at our +feet, and beyond, out of the soft, lavender-coloured haze, rose the +blue peaks of the Santa Lucia mountains. + +"Reminds one a little of the Old Country," I remarked to Angela, who +was all smiles and quite conscious of being the most interesting +object in the landscape. + +"Oh, please, don't speak of England!" + +Her pretty forehead puckered, and her mouth drooped piteously. Then +she laughed, as she launched into a vivid description of her first +attempt to bake bread. Whenever she spoke, I saw Jim's large, slightly +prominent eyes fix themselves upon her face. His beaming satisfaction +in everything she did or said would have been delightful had I been +able to wean my thoughts from the place which he still believed to be +--Eden. At intervals I heard him murmur, "This is rippin'!" + +After luncheon, Angela asked to see the ranch-house, and almost as +soon as we were out of hearing, she said with disconcerting +abruptness-- + +"Does your ranch pay?" She added half-apologetically, "I do so want to +know." + +"It doesn't pay," I answered grimly. + +"You are not going--behind?" she faltered, using the familiar phrase +of the country in which she had spent as yet but three weeks. + +"We are going behind," I answered, angry with her curiosity: not old +enough or experienced enough to see beneath it fear and misery. Angela +said nothing more till we passed into the house. Then, with lack- +lustre eyes, she surveyed our belongings, murmuring endless +commonplace phrases. Presently she stopped opposite a photograph of a +girl in Court dress. + +"What a lovely frock!" she exclaimed, with real interest. "I do wish +I'd been presented at Court. Who is she? Oh, a cousin. I wonder you +can bear to look at her." + +Without another word she burst into tears, heart-breaking sobs, the +more vehement because obviously she was trying to suppress them. I +stared at her, helpless with dismay, confronted for the first time +with an emergency which seemed to paralyse rather than stimulate +action. Had I sympathised, had I presented any aspect other than that +of the confounded idiot, she might have become hysterical. Without +doubt, my impassivity pulled her together. The sobs ceased, and she +said with a certain calmness-- + +"I couldn't help it. You and your brother have this splendid ranch; +you have experience, capital, everything looks so prosperous, and yet +you are going--_behind_. And if that is the case, what is to +become of us?" + +"I dare say things will brighten up a bit." + +"Brighten up?" She laughed derisively. + +"That's the worst of it. The brightness is appalling. These hard, blue +skies without a cloud in them, this everlasting sunshine--how I loathe +it!" + +Again I became tongue-tied. + +"Jim thinks it _is_ Eden. When he showed me that ugly hut, and +his sickly fruit trees, and that terrible little garden where every +flower seemed to be protesting against its existence, I had to make- +believe that it was Eden to me. Each day he goes off to his work, and +he always asks the same question: 'You won't be lonesome, little +woman, will you?' and I answer, 'No.' But I am lonesome, so lonesome +that I should have gone mad if I hadn't found someone--you--to whom I +could speak out." + +"I'm frightfully sorry," I stammered. + +"Thanks. I know you are. And your brother is sorry, and everybody +else, too. The women, my neighbours in the brush-hills, look at me +with the same question in their eyes: 'What are you doing here?' they +say. + +"How impertinent!" + +"Pertinent, I call it." + +From that moment I regarded her with different eyes. If she had brains +to measure obstacles, she might surmount them, for brains in a new +country are the one possession which adversity increases. + +"Mrs. Misterton," I said slowly, "you are in a tight place, and I +won't insult your intelligence by calling it by a prettier name; but +you can pull yourself and Jim out of it, and I believe you will." + +"Thanks," she said soberly. + +For some weeks after this we saw little of the Mistertons. Then Jim +rode down to the ranch with an exciting piece of news. + +"I've got a pup coming out." + +A "pup" in California means a young English gentleman, generally the +fool of the family, who pays a premium to some fellow-countryman in +return for board and lodging and the privilege of learning not so much +how to do things as how not to do them--the latter being the more +common object-lesson afforded him. Ajax and I had gleaned experience +with pups, and we had long ago determined that no premium was adequate +compensation for the task and responsibility of breaking them in. Jim +went into details. + +"It's Tomlinson-Thorpe. You fellows have heard of him, of course?" + +"Never," said Ajax. + +"The International! You ought to see him go through a scrum with half +a dozen fellows on his back." + +"A footballer," said my brother thoughtfully. + +"One of the best. Naturally he puts on a little side. He has money, +and I told him he could double it in a year or two." + +"_You_ told him that? Have you doubled your capital, Jim?" + +"Well--er--no. But I'm rather a Juggins. Thorpe is as 'cute as they +make 'em." + +"A man of mind and muscle," murmured Ajax. + +"And my greatest pal," added the enthusiastic James. + +* * * * * + +Both Ajax and I took a profound dislike to Tomlinson-Thorpe the moment +we set eyes upon him. He presented what is worst in the Briton abroad +--a complacent aggressiveness tempered by a condescension which nothing +but a bullet can lay low. But undeniably he was specially designed to +go through scrums or Kitchen Lancers, the admired of all beholders. + +"A schoolgirl's darling," growled the injudicious Ajax. + +"Nothing of the sort," retorted Jim. "I mean," he added, "that Thorpe +appeals to--er--mature women. I know for a fact that the wife of a +baronet is head over ears in love with him." + +"I hope he didn't tell you so," said Ajax. + +"I should think not. First and last he's a gentleman." + +During the next few weeks we had abundant opportunity of testing this +assertion, for Thorpe was kind enough to consume much of our time and +provisions. He bought himself a smart pony, and, very accurately +turned out, would canter down to the ranch-house three or four times a +week. + +"There's nothing to learn up there," he explained. + +It is fair to add that he helped us on the range, and exhibited +aptitude in the handling of cattle and horses. + +Meanwhile, his advent had made an enormous difference to the +Mistertons. Jim fetched a hired girl from town, and Angela was +relieved, during a scorching summer, of a housewife's most intolerable +duties. Also, when Jim was hard at work clearing his brush-hills, +wrestling with refractory roots of chaparral and manzanita, his +greatest pal was kind enough to undertake the entertainment of Angela. +The pair rode about together, and Jim told us that it did his heart +good to see how the little woman had brightened up. Thorpe, for his +part, admitted with becoming modesty that he was most awfully sorry +for his friend's wife. + +"My heart bleeds for her," he told Ajax. + +"The bounder with the bleeding heart," said Ajax to me that same +evening. + +"We don't know that he is a bounder," I objected. + +"He bounds, and he is as unconscious of his bounds as a kangaroo. As +for Jim, he is the apex of the world's pyramid of fools." + +"Angela can take care of herself." + +"Can she?" + +At our fall round-up, Ajax's question was answered. Conspicuously +Angela attached herself to Tomlinson-Thorpe, regardless of the gaping +eyes and mouths of neighbours, Puritan to the backbone in everything +except the stealing of unbranded calves. + +Most unfortunately, Thorpe--I think more kindly of him when I don't +give him his double-barrelled name--was daily exhibiting those +qualities which had carried him through scrums. In a bar-room brawl +with two pot-valiant cowboys, he had come out supremely "on top." They +had jeered at his riding-breeches, at his bob-tailed cob, at his +English accent, and Thorpe had suffered them gladly. Then, quite +suddenly, Angela's name fell upon a silence. As suddenly Thorpe seized +both men, one in each hand, and brought their heads together with a +crash which the barkeeper described afterwards as "splendiferous." +With an amazing display of physical violence, he flung them apart, +each falling in a crumpled heap of profanity upon the floor. + +"Don't fool with that feller," was the verdict in the foothills. + +The affair would have been of no consequence had not Jim been present +when the row took place. Jim might have played the _beau role_ +had he carried a pistol. Admittedly he would have been licked in a +fight with either cowboy singly. Thorpe, so I was told, entreated Jim +to keep the story from his wife. Angela had it, with slight +exaggeration, from the hero-worshipper's lips within an hour. "It +brought her heart into her mouth, I tell you," the simple fellow told +Ajax, and later Ajax murmured to me: "I wonder whether it struck +Angela that Jim would have tackled both of 'em, if Thorpe had not +interfered." + +A dozen trifles hardly worth recording emphasised the difference +between Jim and his greatest pal. Thorpe mastered the colt which had +thrown Jim; Thorpe, when fresh meat was wanted, killed handsomely the +fat buck missed by the over-eager James; Thorpe made a pretty profit +over a hog deal at the psychological moment when poor Misterton +allowed three Poland-China sows to escape through an improperly +constructed fence! + +Thorpe was a man. Did Angela think of Jim as a mouse? + +* * * * * + +After the fall round-up, Ajax and I spent a month fishing in British +Columbia. When we got back to the ranch, one of the first to greet us +happened to be Jim Misterton. He looked so pale and thin that I +thought for a moment his old enemy had attacked him. However, he +assured us that he was perfectly well, but unable to sleep properly. +We asked him to stay to supper, rather as a matter of form, for he had +always refused our invitations unless Angela were included. To our +surprise he accepted. + +"He'll uncork himself after the second pipe," said the sage Ajax. + +He did. And, oddly enough, our cousin's photograph in Court dress +moved him as it had moved his wife. + +"Boys," he said, "I'm the biggest fool that ever came to this burnt-up +wilderness; and I'm a knave because I persuaded the sweetest girl in +England to join me." + +Oil may calm troubled waters, but it feeds flames. We said something, +nothing worth repeating; then Jim stood up, trembling with agitation, +waving his briar pipe (which had gone out), cursing himself and the +brazen skies, and the sterile soil, and the jack-rabbits, and barb- +wire, and his spring, now a pool of stagnant mud. When he had +finished--and how his tongue must have ached!--Ajax said quietly-- + +"Were you any good as a clerk?" + +Jim nodded sullenly. + +"I knew my business, of course. Heavens! what a soft job that was +compared to what I've tackled out here!" + +"It might be possible to find another such job in California. You +never thought of that?" + +Jim's face brightened. + +"Never," he declared. "Fresh air and exercise was the prescription-- +and I'm fed up on both. If I could get a billet as clerk in San +Lorenzo, if----" He clenched his fists, unable to articulate another +word, then, very slowly, he went on: "Boys, I'd give my life to get +Angela away from Paradise." + +"We'll help you," said Ajax. + +"Mrs. Misterton would be much happier in San Lorenzo," I added. + +Jim flushed scarlet. + +"Angela married the wrong man," he said deliberately. + +Ajax interrupted. + +"Jim, fill your pipe!" + +He held out his pouch, which Jim waved aside. + +"She married the wrong man," he repeated, "and that is what is keeping +me awake nights. She'd have been happy with Thorpe. He could have +given her all the little things women value." + +"And how about the great things?" + +"The little things are great things--to her. Good-night, boys." We +shook hands and he went to the door. On the threshold he turned a +tired face towards us. "I hope I haven't given you fellows the idea +that Angela isn't the best little woman on earth. She never complains. +And Thorpe has been a pal in ten thousand. His heart simply bleeds for +Angela. So long!" + +Ajax mixed a stiff tumbler. Before he put it to his lips he looked at +me. "If that bounder's heart would bleed and bleed and bleed to death, +I should not cross the road to fetch a doctor." + +* * * * * + +About a fortnight later the annual County Fair was held outside San +Lorenzo. We drove to the Buena Vista Hotel, and, to our surprise, upon +the broad verandah we discovered Angela, in the last of her pretty +dresses, and Thorpe. Angela explained matters. Jim and she were +Thorpe's guests for the week. They were going to the races, to the +ball, to all the shows. She finished breathlessly-- + +"And there's a captive balloon!" + +Thorpe added, "Jim is rather blue, you know." As soon as we were +alone, Ajax said savagely-- + +"Do you think Jim understands?" + +"Understands what?" + +"Oh, don't pretend! We know our Thorpe by this time. He's a cutlet- +for-a-cutlet fellow. What do I say? A cutlet-for-a-baron-of-beef +gentleman. Hang him!" + +"But Angela----" + +"Angela is a reckless little idiot. She's been starving for a lark, +and she's swallowed it without counting the cost." + +"But I trust her," said I; "and Jim is here." + +Ajax shrugged his shoulders and walked away. + +Next day, at the races, Jim attached himself to us, while aloft in the +grand-stand Angela sat with Thorpe: the handsomest couple at the Fair. +For the moment, at any rate, Angela was enjoying herself; Jim, on the +other hand, looked miserable. Contrast had discoloured the good time. +He couldn't snatch pleasure out of the present because he saw so +plainly the future. + +"I'm a wet blanket," he said dolefully. "Every time Angela laughs I +want to cry, and yet I ought to be thankful that old Thorpe can give +her what I can't." + +"He's doing the thing well," said Ajax meaningly. + +"He has been left a bit more money. Didn't he tell you? No? And he's +going to buy that big tract to the north-west of us. Mum's the word, +but--between ourselves--the agreement is signed." + +"Oh!" said Ajax. + +The big tract in question belonged to a bank, whose president, a very +good fellow, was our particular friend. Early next morning I paid him +a visit. Almost immediately he asked me questions about Thorpe, which +I was able to answer satisfactorily from a business point of view. + +"Mr. Thorpe struck me as a very shrewd young man. He'll get there." + +"He played football for England." + +"Ah! Well, indirectly, I suppose, we can thank you for this deal." + +"You can thank Jim Misterton and his wife." + +"I have not the pleasure of knowing them. They had something to do +with this, eh?" + +"Everything." + +The president frowned; his voice was not quite so pleasant as he +said-- + +"Are they likely to claim a commission?" + +"Certainly not. All the same, something is due. Without the Mistertons +you would never have sold this ranch to Thorpe. One moment. It is in +your power to do these people a service, and it will cost you nothing. +Jim Misterton was a clerk in London, and a capable one, but his health +broke down. He came out here to the brush-hills. He got back his +health, but he's lost everything else. Give him a place in this bank. +He's straight as a string, and he knows his work." + +Before I left the bank it was understood that Jim was to call upon the +president and submit his credentials. Humanly speaking, the billet was +secured. Nothing remained but to find Jim. To my surprise, however, +Ajax urged me to wait a few hours. + +"I want to see Jim's honest grin again as much as you do, but we must +tell him before Thorpe When I upset an apple-cart, I like to see the +apple rolling about, don't you?" + +"We'll tell 'em after dinner to-night." + +That afternoon we forgathered in the Fair Grounds. The racing was +uninteresting, and presently Angela suggested that we should go up in +the captive balloon. We had watched it ascending and descending with +interest. Some of our friends bored us by describing at too great +length the panoramic splendour of the view. Angela and Ajax wanted to +soar, Thorpe and I preferred Mother Earth; to Jim was offered the +casting vote. He spun a dollar to decide, and within a few minutes the +five of us were seated in the wicker-car. I remember that our aeronaut +inspired confidence in Angela because he wore the Grand Army medal. A +windlass and a donkey-engine controlled the big rope which held us +captive. We went aloft in a series of disagreeable and upsetting +jerks. This may be an unusual experience, but it was ours. I am a bad +sailor, and so is Ajax. Neither of us smiled when Thorpe addressed the +veteran as--"Steward!" + +Suddenly there came a still sharper jerk, and the cable split. The +balloon seemed to leap upwards, swerved like a frightened bird, and +then, caught by the wind, sailed upward and seaward, swooping on with +a paradoxically smooth yet uneven flight. + +"Jeeroosalem!" ejaculated our aeronaut. Then he added coolly enough: +"Sit tight; you'll none of you be the worse for this little trip." + +His confidence diffused itself agreeably. Angela laughed, Thorpe's +face relaxed, Jim peered over the edge of the car. + +"Gad!" said he, "we seem to be going a tremendous pace." + +The veteran took a squint alow and aloft as he fingered the rope that +opened the valve. Next time he spoke the confidence had leaked from +his voice, leaving behind a nervous squeak. + +"This yere valve won't work!" + +"Oh!" said Angela. + +She looked at Thorpe as if seeking from him some word, some sign, of +comfort and encouragement. At the same moment she made an instinctive +movement towards him. Jim was staring at her, very pale. I saw him +half-open his lips and then close them. Frightened as I was, I can +swear that Jim was thinking only of his wife and what he could read +upon her face. Thorpe was quite impassive, but his fingers were +twitching. Then I heard Jim's voice curiously distinct-- + +"What are you going to do?" + +"The valve may work loose. Anyways, she leaks a bit. Guess we're all +right." + +Once more his confidence diffused itself subtly, and again a phrase +shattered it. + +"How far is San Lorenzy from the ocean?" + +"Eleven miles," said Ajax. + +"We're sailin' plumb into the fog." + +In late October the sea fog generally begins to roll up about four +o'clock. If the breeze is from the land, the fog is kept at bay for an +hour or two. As a rule, the breeze fails, and then the fog asserts its +dominion over all things on land and sea. Without knowing much of +aerial navigation, I grasped the fact that we were being swept into +the fog, and that if we intended to descend on land there was not a +minute to be lost. Thorpe, I fancy, had arrived at the same +conclusion. He said in a queer, high-pitched tone-- + +"Can't you stick a knife into the balloon?" + +"It ain't easy, and it's mighty risky." + +Jerking at the two ropes in his hands, he spoke collectedly, in an +indifferent tone--the tone of a man who has confronted death often, +who realises his impotence, who submits apathetically to impending +fate, whether good or ill. + +"It's very cold," said Angela. Jim began to unbutton his jacket. +"Don't," she said sharply; "all the coats in the world wouldn't warm +me." + +"Stick a knife into the confounded thing," repeated Thorpe. + +"S'pose you do it," said the veteran snappishly. + +Thorpe stood up at once, staggered, and fell upon the floor of the +car. He could master a broncho, but he had never attempted to boss a +balloon. The old man smiled. + +"A man," said he, "may be mighty smart on land and behave like a baby +in a balloon. You sit tight, mister." + +The balloon was now careening like a racing-yacht in a squall. We had +met opposing currents of air in the debatable area where wind and fog +struggled for the mastery. The fog had the mighty trade wind behind +it, forcing it landward. Already we were approaching the sand-dunes, +the very spot for an easy descent if we could descend. + +"Gosh, I've done it!" + +Above I could hear the soft, sibilant sound of the escaping gas, not +unlike the hiss of a snake. I was also sensible that my heart, not to +mention other important organs, was trying to get into my throat. + +"Valve must ha' bust," said the old man. "Stand by to throw out +ballast." + +The bottom of the car was covered with sacks of sand. Ordinarily one +unties the sacks and the sand is allowed to trickle out in a harmless +stream. I peered over the side. The balloon was now, so to speak, on +an even keel, falling almost perpendicularly. I saw, far down, a flash +of blue. + +"Chuck 'em out, boys!" + +Several sacks went overboard, and at once my solar plexus felt easier. +Again I peered down and saw nothing. The fog had engulfed us, but I +could hear the crash of the big combers as they broke upon the rocks +to the north of Avila. + +What followed took place within a few seconds. We were encompassed by +thick dank fog. The balloon was perfectly steady, descending less +quickly, but with inexorable certainty, into the ocean. Around, an +uncanny silence encompassed us; above, we could hear the hiss of the +serpent; below, the menacing roar of the breakers. Then the old man +said curtly-- + +"Hurry up, boys. If we can get her up again, we may just strike the +dunes. What wind there is blows from the west." + +We threw out the rest of the sacks. The balloon rose and slowly sank +again. The old man took off his coat. + +"I can't swim worth a cent," he muttered grimly, "but I'm a-going to +try. If she tumbles quietly into the water, the wind may blow us +ashore." + +A few more seconds passed. I heard a queer noise and discovered that +my teeth were chattering. Thorpe was taking off his boots. + +The next moment the balloon gave a tremendous bound. I know that I +nearly fell upon my face, and Angela was thrown violently into the +bottom of the car. For an appreciable interval not one of us realised +that Jim had slipped overboard. + +"The trade's got us," said the old man. "We shall just make them +dunes." + +"Oh, thank God!" exclaimed Angela. + +By the tone of her voice, by the smile parting her lips, I could see +that she did not know what had happened. Terror had dulled all +faculties save the one overmastering instinct of self-preservation. +Thorpe was about to speak, but Ajax caught his eye and with a gesture +silenced him. Once more the balloon began to fall---- + +* * * * * + +We were thrown out upon the dunes. Some of us were badly bruised. When +we staggered to our feet, Angela said quickly-- + +"Why, where's Jim?" + +Thorpe told her; let us give him credit for that. When he had +finished, he put out his hand, but she turned from him to Ajax. + +"Come," she said. + +She ran past us towards the beach, instinctively taking the right +direction. As she ran she called shrilly: "Jim--Jim!" + +Ajax followed. For an instant Thorpe and I were alone, face to face. + +"Why did he do it?" he asked. + +"Because he thought that Angela had married the wrong man; but she-- +didn't." + +When I caught Ajax up, Angela was still ahead, running like a mad +creature. + +"Jim never took off his boots," said Ajax. + +"Nor his coat." + +"All the same, the love of life is strong." + +"We don't know how far he was from the water; the fall may have killed +him." + +"I feel in my bones that he is not dead, and that Angela will find +him." + +We pressed on, unwilling to be outstripped by a woman, but sensible +that we were running ourselves to a standstill. The fog was thicker +near the water's edge, and Angela's figure loomed through the mist +like that of a wraith, but we still heard her piteous cry: "Jim--Jim!" + +We were nearly spent when we overtook her. She had stopped where the +foam from the breakers lay thick upon the sand. + +"Listen!" she said. + +We heard nothing but our thumping hearts and the raucous note of some +sea-bird. + +"He answered me!" she asserted with conviction. "There!" + +Certainly my ears caught a faint cry to the left. We ran on, +forgetting our bruises. Again Angela called, and out of the mist +beyond the breakers came an answering voice. We shouted back and +plunged into the surf. Angela knelt down upon the sand. + +Afterwards we admitted that Angela had saved his life, although Jim +could not have fought his way through the breakers without our help. +Indeed, when we got him ashore, I made certain that he was dead. Had +Angela's instinct or intuition failed, had she hesitated for a few +minutes, Jim would have drowned within a few hundred yards of the spot +where the balloon struck. Since, Jim has maintained that he was +sinking when he heard her voice; her faint, attenuated tones infused +strength into his limbs and hope into his heart. + +We dined together, and I delivered the president's message in Thorpe's +presence. He shook hands with Jim, and said quietly-- + +"I am happier to-night than I ever expected to be again." + +Bounder or not, he meant it. + +Only the other day I received a letter from Angela. She wrote at +length concerning her eldest child, my godson, and she mentioned +incidentally that Jim was now cashier of the San Lorenzo Bank. + + + + +XV + +MARY + + +His real name was Quong Wo, but my brother Ajax always called him +Mary, because the boy's round, childish face had a singular smoothness +and delicacy. A good and faithful servant he proved during three +years. Then he ran away at the time of the anti-Chinese riots, despite +our assurance that we wished to keep him and protect him. + +"Me no likee Coon Dogs," said he, with a shiver. + +The Coon Dogs were a pack of cowboys engaged in hunting Chinamen out +of the peaceful, but sometimes ill-smelling, places which, by thrift, +patience, and unremitting labour, they had made peculiarly their own. +From the Coon Dogs Ajax and I received a letter commanding us to +discharge Mary. A skull and cross-bones, and a motto, "Beware the bite +of the Coon Dogs!" embellished this billet, which was written in red +ink. Courtesy constrained us to acknowledge the receipt of it. Next +day we put up a sign by the corral gate-- + +NO HUNTING ALLOWED ON THIS RANCH! + +In the afternoon Mary disappeared. + +Uncle Jake was of opinion that Mary had divined the meaning of our +sign. He had said to Uncle Jake: "I go. Me makee heap trouble for +boss." + +Later, upon the same day, we learned from a neighbour that the Coon +Dogs had tarred and feathered one poor wretch; another had been +stripped and whipped; a third was found half-strangled by his own +queue; the market-gardens near San Lorenzo, miracles of industry, had +been ravaged and destroyed. Before taking leave our neighbour +mentioned the sign. + +"Boys," said he, "take that down--and ship Mary. I'm mighty glad," he +added reflectively, "that my ole woman does the cookin." + +"Mary skedaddled after dinner," said Ajax, frowning, "but I'm going +into town to-morrow to bring him back." + +However, Mary brought himself back that same night. We were smoking +our second pipes after supper, when Ajax, pointing an expressive +finger at the window, exclaimed sharply: "Great Scot! What's that?" + +Pressed against the pane, glaring in at us, was a face--a face so +blanched and twisted by terror and pain that it seemed scarcely human. +We hurried out. Mary staggered towards us. In his face were the cruel, +venomous spines of the prickly pear. The tough boughs of the manzanita +thickets through which he had plunged had scourged him like a cat-o'- +nine tails. What clothes he wore were dripping with mud and slime. + +"Coon Dogs come," he gasped. "I tellee you." + +Then he bolted into the shadows of the oaks and sage brush. We +pursued, but he ran fast, dodging like a rabbit, till he tumbled over +and over--paralysed by fear and fatigue. We carried him back to the +ranch-house, propped him up in a chair, and despatched Uncle Jake for +a doctor. Before midnight we learned what little there was to know. +Mary had been chased by the Coon Dogs. He, of course, was a-foot; the +cowboys were mounted. A couple of barbed-wire fences had saved him +from capture. We had listened, that afternoon, too coolly, perhaps, to +a tale of many outrages, but the horror and infamy of them were not +brought home to us till we saw Mary, tattered scarred, bedraggled, +lying crumpled up against the gay chintz of the arm-chair. The poor +fellow kept muttering: "Coon Dogs come. I know. Killee you, killee me. +Heap bad men!" + +Next morning Uncle Jake and the doctor rode up. + +"I can do nothing," said the latter, presently. "It's a case of shock. +He may get over it; he may not. Another shock would kill him. I'll +leave some medicine." + +Upon further consultation we put Mary into Ajax's bed. The Chinaman's +bunk-house was isolated, and the vaqueroes slept near the horse +corral, a couple of hundred yards away. Mary feebly protested: "No +likee. Coon Dogs--allee same debils--killee you, killee me. Heap bad +men!" + +We tried to assure him that the Coon Dogs were at heart rank curs. +Mary shook his head: "I know. You see." + +The day passed. Night set in. About ten, Mary said, convincingly-- + +"Coon Dogs coming! Coon Dogs coming!" + +"No, no," said Ajax. + +I slipped out of the house. From the marsh beyond the creek came the +familiar croaking of the frogs; from the foothills in the cow-pasture +came the shrilling of the crickets. A coyote was yapping far down the +valley. + +"It's all right, Mary," said I. + +"Boss, Coon Dogs come, velly quick. I know." + +Did he really know? What subtle instinct warned him of the approach of +danger? Who can answer such questions? It is a fact that the Coon Dogs +were on the road to our ranch, and that they arrived just one hour +later. We heard them yelling and shouting at the big gate. Then the +popping of pistols told us that the sign, clearly to be seen in the +moonlight, was being riddled with bullets. + +"We must face the music," said Ajax grimly. "Come on!" + +Mary lay back on the pillow, senseless. Passing through the sitting- +room, I reminded Ajax that my duck-gun, an eight-bore, could carry two +ounces of buck-shot about one hundred yards. + +"We mustn't fight 'em with their own weapons," he answered curtly. + +The popping ceased suddenly; silence succeeded. + +"They're having their bad time, too," said Ajax. "They are hitching +their plugs to the fence. Hullo!" + +Uncle Jake slipped on to the verandah, six-shooter in hand. Before he +spoke, he spat contemptuously; then he drawled out: "Our boys say it's +none o' their doggoned business; they won't interfere." + +"Good," said Ajax cheerfully. "Nip back, Uncle; we can play this hand +alone." + +"Sure?" The old man's voice expressed doubt. + +"Quite sure. Shush-h-h!" + +Uncle Jake slid off the verandah, but he retired--so we discovered +later--no farther than the water-butt behind it. Ajax and I went into +the sitting-room. From the bed-room beyond came no sound whatever. +Through the windows the pack was seen--slowly advancing. + +"Come in, gentlemen," said Ajax loudly. + +He stood in the doorway, an unarmed man confronting a dozen +desperadoes. + +"Wheer's the Chinaman--Quong?" + +I recognised the voice of a cowboy whom we had employed: a man known +in the foothills as Cock-a-whoop Charlie. + +"He's here," Ajax answered quietly. + +A tall, gaunt Missourian, also well known to us as a daring bull- +puncher, laughed derisively. + +"Here--is he? Wal, we want him, but we don't want no fuss with you, +boys. Yer--white, but he's yaller, and he must go." + +"He is going," said Ajax. "He's going fast." + +"How's that?" + +"Come in," retorted my brother impatiently. "It's cold out there and +dark. You're not scared of two unarmed men--are you?" + +They filed into the house, looking very sheepish. + +"I'm glad you've come, even at this late hour," said Ajax, "for I want +to have a quiet word with you." + +The psychological characteristics of a crowd are receiving attention +at the hands of a French philosopher. M. Gustave Le Bon tells us that +the crowd is always intellectually inferior to the isolated individual +of average brains. + +"You have a nerve," remarked Cock-a-whoop Charlie. + +"You Coon Dogs," continued my brother, "are making this county too hot +for the Chinese--eh?" + +"You bet yer life!" + +"But won't you make it too hot for yourselves?" + +The pack growled, inarticulate with astonishment and curiosity. + +"Some of you," said Ajax, "have wives and children. What will they do +when the Sheriff is hunting--you? You call this the Land of the Free, +the Home of the Brave. So it is. And do you think that the Free and +the Brave will suffer you to destroy property and life without calling +you to account?" + +"We ain't destroying life." + +"And a heathen Chinee ain't a man." + +"Quong," said Ajax, in his deep voice, "is hardly a man yet. We call +him Mary, because he looks like a girl. You want him--eh? You are not +satisfied with what you did yesterday? You want him? But--do you want +him _dying_?" + +The pack cowered. + +"He is dying," said Ajax. "No matter how they live, and a wiser Judge +than any of us will pronounce on that, no matter how they live--are +your own lives clean?--the meanest of these Chinese knows how to die. +One moment, please." + +He entered the room where Mary lay blind and deaf to the terror which +had come at last. When Ajax returned, he said quietly: "Come and see +the end of what you began. What? You hang back? By God!--you shall +come." + +Dominated by his eye and voice, the pack slunk into the bed-room. Upon +Mary's once comely face the purple weals were criss-crossed; and sores +had broken out wherever the cactus spines had pierced the flesh. A +groan escaped the men who had wrought this evil, and glancing at each +in turn, I caught a glimpse of a quickening remorse, of a horror about +to assume colossal dimensions. The Cock-a-whoop cowboy was seized with +a palsy; great tears rolled down the cheeks of the gaunt Missourian; +one man began to swear incoherently, cursing himself and his fellows; +another prayed aloud. + +"He's dead!" shrieked Charlie. + +At the grim word, moved by a common impulse, whipped to unreasonable +panic as they had been whipped to unreasoning cruelty, the pack broke +headlong from the room--and fled! + +Long after they had gone, Mary opened his eyes. + +"Coon Dogs coming?" he muttered. "Heap bad men!" + +"They have come and gone," said Ajax. "They'll never come again, Mary. +It's all right. Go to sleep." + +Mary obediently closed his eyes. + +"He'll recover," Ajax said. And he did. + + + + +XVI + +OLD MAN BOBO'S MANDY + + +Old man Bobo was the sole survivor of a once famous trio. Two out of +the three, Doc Dickson and Pap Spooner, had passed to the shades, and +the legend ran that when their disembodied spirits reached the banks +of Styx, the ruling passion of their lives asserted itself for the +last time. They demurred loudly, impatiently, at the exorbitant fee, +ten cents, demanded by Charon. + +"We weigh light," said Pap Spooner, "awful light! Call it, mister, +fifteen cents for the two!" + +"Ten cents apiece," replied the ferryman, "or three for a quarter." + +Thereupon the worthy couple seated themselves in Cimmerian darkness, +and vowed their intention of awaiting old man Bobo. + +"He'll soon be along," they remarked. "He must be awful lonesome." + +But the old gentleman kept them out of Hades for full five years. + +He lived alone with his grand-daughter and a stable helper in the +tumble-down adobe just to the left of the San Lorenzo race track. The +girl cooked, baked, and washed for him. Twice a week she peddled fruit +and garden stuff in San Lorenzo. Of these sales her grandsire exacted +the most rigorous accounting, and occasionally, in recognition of her +services, would fling her a nickel. The old man himself rarely left +home, and might be seen at all hours hobbling around his garden and +corrals, keenly interested in his own belongings, halter-breaking his +colts, anxiously watching the growth of his lettuce, counting the +oranges, and beguiling the fruitful hours with delightful calculation. + +"It's all profit," he has often said to me. "We buy nothin' an' we +sell every durned thing we raise." + +Then he would chuckle and rub together his yellow, wrinkled hands. +Ajax said that whenever Mr. Bobo laughed it behooved other folk to +look grave. + +"Mandy's dress costs something," I observed. + +"Considerable,--I'd misremembered that. Her rig-out las' fall cost me +the vally o' three boxes o' apples--winter pearmains!" + +"She will marry soon, Mr. Bobo." + +"An' leave me?" he cried shrilly. "I'd like to see a man prowlin' +around my Mandy--I'd stimilate him. Besides, mister, Mandy ain't the +marryin' kind. She's homely as a mud fence, is Mandy. She ain't put up +right for huggin' and kissin'." + +"But she is your heiress, Mr. Bobo." + +"Heiress," he repeated with a cunning leer. "I'm poor, mister, poor. +The tax collector has eat me up--eat me up, I say, eat me up!" + +He looked such an indigestible morsel, so obviously unfit for the maw +of even a tax collector, that I laughed and took my leave. He was +worth, I had reason to know, at least fifty thousand dollars. + +* * * * * + +"Say, Mandy, I like ye awful well! D'ye know it?" + +The speaker, Mr. Rinaldo Roberts, trainer and driver of horses, was +sitting upon the top rail of the fence that divided the land of old +man Bobo from the property of the Race Track Association. + +Mandy, freckled, long-legged, and tow-headed, balanced herself easily +upon one ill-shod foot and rubbed herself softly with the other. The +action to those who knew her ways denoted mental perplexity and +embarrassment. This assignation was bristling with peril as well as +charm. Her grandfather had the eyes of a turkey-buzzard, eyes which +she contrasted involuntarily with the soft, kindly orbs now bent upon +her. She decided instantly that blue was a prettier colour than +yellow. Rinaldo's skin, too, commended itself. She had never seen so +white a forehead, such ruddy cheeks. David, she reflected, must have +been such a man; but Rinaldo was a nicer name than David, ever so much +nicer. + +"Shakespeare never repeats," observed Mr. Roberts, "but I'll tell ye +again, Mandy, that I like ye awful well." + +"Pshaw!" she replied. + +"Honest, Mandy, I ain't lyin'." + +He smoothed his hair, well oiled by the barber an hour before, wiped +his hand upon his brown overalls, and laughed. The overalls were worn +so as to expose four inches of black trouser. + +"Ye think more of your sorrel than ye do of me, Nal." + +"I do?" + +"Yes, indeed, you do. You know you do." + +"I know I don't! Say--I've gone an' christened the cuss." + +"You have?" said Mandy, in a tone of intense interest. "Tell me its +name." + +"It's a her, Mandy, an' me an' Pete fixed on _By-Jo_. That's +French, Mandy," he added triumphantly, "an' it means a gem, a +_jool_, an' that's what she is--a regler ruby!" + +"It don't sound like French," said Amanda doubtfully. + +"That French feller," replied Nal, with the fine scorn of the Anglo- +Saxon, "him as keeps the 'Last Chance' saloon, pronounces it By-Jew, +but he's as ignorant as a fool, an' By-Jo seems to come kind o' +nateral." + +"Ye might ha' called the filly, Amandy, Nal." + +The honest face of Rinaldo flushed scarlet. He squirmed--I use the +word advisedly--and nearly fell off the fence. + +"If there was a nickel-in-the-slot kickin' machine around San +Lorenzy," he cried, "I'd take a dollar dose right now! Gosh! What a +clam I am! I give ye my word, Mandy, that the notion o' callin' the +filly after you never entered my silly head. Never onst! +_Jee_whillikins! this makes me feel awful bad." + +He wiped his broad forehead with a large white silk pocket- +handkerchief, horribly scented with patchouli. His distress was quite +painful to witness. + +"Never mind," said Amanda softly. "I was only joking, Nal. It's all +right." + +Looking at her now, what son of Adam could call her homely? Her +slender figure, the head well poised upon shapely shoulders, suddenly +straightened itself; her red lips parted, revealing a row of small, +white teeth; her eyes were uplifted to meet the glance of her lover; +her bosom rose and fell as Nal sprang from the fence and seized her +hand. + +A simple courtship truly! Love had written in plain characters upon +their radiant faces an artless tale. With fingers interlaced they +gazed tranquilly at each other, eloquently silent. + +Then the man bent his head and kissed her. + +* * * * * + +"Marry my Mandy!" cried old man Bobo, a few hours later. "Why, Nal, ye +must be crazy! Ye're both children." + +"I'm twenty-two," said Mr. Roberts, expanding his broad chest, and +towering six inches at least above his companion, "an' Mandy will be +eighteen next December, and," he added with dignity, "I love Mandy an' +Mandy loves me." + +"Now, I ain't a goin' to git mad," said Mr. Bobo, stamping upon the +ground and gnashing his teeth, "but I'll give ye a pointer, Nal +Roberts; you go right home an' stay there! I need Mandy the worst +kind, an' ye know it. I couldn't spare the girl nohow. An' there's +another thing; I won't have no sparkin' aroun' this place. No huggin' +an' kissin'. There's none for me an' there'll be none for you. Love, +pah! I reckon that's all ye've got. Love! Ye make me sick to my +stomach, Nal Roberts. Ye've bin readin' dime novels, that's what ails +ye. Love! There ain't no dividen's in love." + +"Naterally," observed Mr. Roberts, "ye know nothin' of love, Mister +Bobo, an' ye never will. I'm sorry for ye, too. Life without love is +like eatin' bull-beef jerky without _salsa_!" + +"I've raised Mandy," continued Mr. Bobo, ignoring this interruption, +"very keerful. I give her good schoolin', victuals, an' a heap o' +clothes. I've knocked some horse sense into the child. There ain't no +nonsense in Mandy, an' ye won't find her equal in the land for +peddlin' fruit an' sech. I've kep' her rustlin' from morn till night. +When a woman idles, the ole Nick gits away with her mighty quick. I've +salted that down many a long year. No, sir, Mandy is mine, an' Mandy +will do jest as I say. She minds me well, does Mandy. She won't marry +till I give the word--an' I ain't agoin' to give the word." + +He snapped his lantern jaws, and grinned in Nal's face. The +selfishness which rated its sordid interest paramount to any +consideration for others appalled the young man. How could he stem +this tide of avarice, this torrent of egoism? + +"So love don't go?" said Nal shortly. + +"No, sonny, love don't go--leastways not with me." + +"Mebbe you think I'm after the grease," remarked Nal with +deliberation, "but I ain't. Folks say ye're rich, Mr. Bobo, but I +don't keer for that. I'm after Mandy, an' I'll take her in her +chimmy." + +"I'll be damned if ye will, Nal! Ye won't take Mandy at all, an' +that's all there is about it." + +"Say," said Mr. Roberts, his fine eyes aglow with inspiration, "say, +I'll make ye a cold business proposition, fair an' square betwixt man +an' man. I'll buy Mandy from ye, at the market price--there!" + +From beneath his penthouse brows Mr. Bobo peered curiously at this +singular youth. + +"Buy her!" he repeated scornfully. "With what? Ye've got nothin', Nal +Roberts--that is, nothin' but yer sorrel filly and a measly two, or +three mebbe, hundred dollars. I vally Mandy at twenty dollars a month. +At one per cent.--I allus git one per cent. a month--that makes two +thousand dollars. Have ye got the cold cash, Nal?" + +Honest Nal hung his head. + +"Not the half of it, but I earn a hundred a month at the track." + +"Bring me two thousand dollars, gold coin o' the United States, no +foolin', an' I'll give ye Mandy." + +"Ye mean that, Mr. Bobo?" + +The old man hesitated. + +"I was kind o' bluffin'," he admitted reluctantly, "but I'll stand by +my words. Bring me the cash, an' I'll give ye Mandy." + +"I'll guess I'll go," said Mr. Roberts. + +"Yes, Nal, ye'd better go, an' sonny, ye needn't to come back; I like +ye first rate, but ye needn't to come back!" + +Rinaldo walked home to the race track, and as he walked, cursed old +man Bobo, cursed him heartily, in copious Western vernacular, from the +peaky crown of his bald head to the tip of his ill-shaped, sockless +toe. When, however, he had fed the filly and bedded her down in cool, +fresh straw, he felt easier in his mind. Running his hand down her +iron forelegs, he reflected hopefully that a few hundred dollars were +easily picked up on a race track. Bijou was a well-bred beast, with a +marvellous turn of speed. For half-a-mile she was a wonder, a record +breaker--so Nal thought. Presently he pulled a list of entries from +his pocket and scanned it closely. Old man Bobo had a bay gelding in +training for the half-mile race, Comet, out of Shooting Star, by +Meteor. Nal had taken the measure of the other horses and feared none +of them; but Comet, he admitted ruefully to be a dangerous colt. He +was stabled at home, and the small boy that exercised him was both +deaf and dumb. + +"If I could hold my watch on him," said Nal to himself, "I'd give a +hundred dollars." + +A smile illumined his pleasant features as he remembered that Mr. +Bobo, like himself, was sitting upon the anxious seat. That same +afternoon he had tried, in vain, to extract from Nal some information +about the filly's speed. The old man's weakness, if he had one, was +betting heavily upon a certainty. + +"By Jimminy," mused Mr. Roberts, patting affectionately the satin neck +of Bijou, "it would be a nice howdy-do to win a thousand off the old +son of a gun! Gosh, Mandy! how ye startled me." + +Amanda, out of breath and scarlet of face, slipped quietly into the +loose box and sat down in the straw. + +"Hush," she said, panting, "grandfather would take a quirt to me if he +knew I was here, but, Nal dear, I jest had to come. I've been talkin' +with the old man, an' he won't let me leave him, but I'll be true to +you, Nal, true as steel, an' you'll be true to me, won't you? +Grandfather won't last long, he's----" + +"Tough," said Mr. Roberts, "tough as abalone, tough as the hondo of my +lariat. I suspicioned he'd peter out when Pap Spooner died, but he +fooled us the worst kind. No, Mandy, the old gentleman ain't a-goin', +as he says, till he gits ready. He told me that to-day, an' he ain't a +liar. He's close as a clam, is Mr. Bobo, but he ain't no liar. As for +bein' true to you, Mandy--why--dern it--my heart's jest froze to +yours, it don't belong to Nal Roberts no longer." + +The girl blushed with pleasure and rose to her feet. + +"You won't quarrel, Nal," she said anxiously, "you an' grandfather. He +gets awful hot at times, but your head is level. He's comin' down to +the track to-morrow morning at five to work out Comet, an' you might +have words about me." + +"To work out Comet?" said Nal, pricking up his ears. + +"Mercy!--" cried Amanda, "I've given it away, an' it's a deathly +secret." + +"It's safe enough with me," replied the young man carelessly. None the +less his eyes brightened and he smiled beneath his blonde mustache. +"An', Mandy, don't worry, I wouldn't touch the old gentleman with a +pair o' tongs." + +"Well, good night, Nal--no, you mustn't--somebody might see. Only one +then! Let me go, let me go!--Good night, Nal." + +She ran swiftly away, holding high her skirts on account of the +sticker grass. Nal watched her retreating figure admiringly. + +"A good gait," he murmured critically, "no interferin' an' nothin' +gummy about the pastern!" + +He then squatted down, cowboy fashion, upon his hams, and smoothing +carefully a piece of level ground, began to--what he called "figger." +He wrote with a pointed stick and presently broke into a loud laugh. + +"A low down trick," he muttered, "to play upon a white man, but Mr. +Bobo ain't a white man, an' mustn't be treated as sech." + +He erased his hieroglyphics, and proceeded leisurely to prepare his +simple supper. He ate his bacon and beans with even more than usual +relish, laughing softly to himself repeatedly, and when he had +finished and the dishes were washed and put away, he selected, still +laughing, a spade and crowbar from a heap of tools in the corner of +his shanty. These he shouldered and then strode out into the night. + +* * * * * + +The crowd at the race track upon the opening afternoon of the fair was +beginning to assume colossal proportions--colossal, that is to say, +for San Lorenzo. Beneath the grand stand, where the pools are always +sold, the motley throng surged thickest. Jew and gentile, greaser and +dude, tin-horn gamblers and tenderfeet, hayseeds and merchants, +jostled each other good humouredly. In the pool box were two men. One +--the auctioneer--a perfect specimen of the "sport"; a ponderous +individual, brazen of face and voice, who presented to the crowd an +amazing front of mottled face, diamond stud, bulging shirt sleeves, +and a bull-neck encircled by a soiled eighteen-and-a-half inch paper +collar. The other gentleman, who handled the tickets, was unclean, +unshorn, and cadaverous-looking, with a black cigar, unlighted, stuck +aggressively into the corner of his mouth. + +"Once more," yelled the pool-selling person, in raucous tones. "Once +more, boys! I'm sellin' once more the half-mile dash! I've one hundred +dollars for Comet; how much fer second choice? Be lively there. Sixty +dollars!!! Go the five, five, five! Thank ye, sir, you're a dead game +sport. Bijou fer sixty-five dollars. How much am I bid fer the field?" + +The field sold for fifty, and the auctioneer glanced at Mr. Bobo, who +shook his head and shuffled away. Ten consecutive times he had bought +pools. Ten consecutive times Mr. Rinaldo Roberts had paid, by proxy, +sixty-five dollars for the privilege of naming By-Jo as second choice +to the son of Meteor. + +"Fifteen hunderd," mumbled the old man to himself. "Five las' night +an' ten to-day. It's a sure shot, that's what it is, a sure shot. I +worked him out in fifty-one seconds. Oh, Lord, what a clip! in fifty- +one," he repeated with his abominable chuckle, "an' Nal's filly has +never done better than fifty-two. Nal didn't buy no pools. He knows +better." + +By a queer coincidence Mr. Roberts was also indulging in pleasing +introspection. + +"The old cuss," he mused, "is blooded. I'll allow he's blooded, but he +thinks this a dead cert. Lemme see, fifty-one an' two make fifty- +three. No clip at all. Gosh! what a game, what a game! Why, there's +Mandy a-sittin' up with Mis' Root. I'll jest sashay acrost the track +an' give 'em my regards." + +Mandy was atop a red-wheeled spring wagon. A sailor hat--price, +trimmed, forty-five cents--overshadowed her smiling face, and a new +dress cleverly fashioned out of white cheese cloth, embellished her +person. She had been watching her lover closely for upwards of an +hour, but expressed superlative surprise at seeing him. + +"Why, Nal," she said demurely "this ain't you? You are acquainted with +Mis' Root, I guess?" + +Nal removed his cap with a flourish, and Mrs. Root, a large, +lymphatic, prolific female, entreated him to ascend the wagon and sit +down. + +"You have a horse runnin', Mister Roberts?" + +"Yes, marm, By-Jo." + +"By what?" + +"By Diamond," replied Rinaldo, glibly, "outer Cap Wilson's old Sally. +She was by----" + +"Mis' Root didn't catch the name right," interrupted Mandy. "It's By- +Jo, Mis' Root--that's French." + +"Mercy me, ain't that nice--quite toney. I hope he'll win if Mister +Bobo's horse don't." + +"Nal," whispered Mandy, "you've not been betting against Comet, have +you?" + +"That's what I have, Mandy. I've got my hull stack o' chips on this +yere half-mile dash." + +"But, Nal, Comet will win sure. Grandfather's crazy about the colt. He +says he can't lose no-way." + +"That's all right," said Nal. "I'm glad he feels so well about it. Set +his heart on winnin', eh? That's good. Say, I guess I'll sit right +here and see the race. It's handy to the judges' stand, and the horses +are all on the track." + +In fact, for some time the runners had been walking backwards and +forwards, and were now grouped together near the starter. Mr. Bobo was +in the timer's box, chuckling satanically. Fifteen hundred dollars, +according to his own computation, were already added to a plethoric +bank account. + +"Yer feelin' well, Mister Bobo," said a bystander. + +"I'm feelin' mighty well," he replied, "never was feelin' better, +never. There's a heap o' fools in this yere world, but I ain't +responsible for their mistakes--not much," and he cackled loudly. + +After the usual annoying delay the horses were dismissed with an +excellent start. Bijou jumped immediately to the front, and Nal threw +his hat high into the air. + +"Ain't she a cyclone?" he shouted, standing upon the wagon seat and +waving his stop-watch. + +"Look at her, I say, look at her!" + +The people in his vicinity stared, smiled, and finally cheered. Most +of them knew Nal and liked him well. + +"Yer mare is winnin'," yelled a granger. + +"You bet she is," retorted Mr. Roberts. "See her! Ain't she takin' the +kinks out of her speed? Ain't that a clip? Sit still, ye fool," he +cried lustily, apostrophising the boy who was riding; "if ye git a +move on ye I'll kill ye. Oh, my lord! if she ain't a-goin' to distance +them! Yes, sir, she's a shuttin' 'em out. Damn it--I ain't a swearin', +Mis' Root--damn it, I say, _she's a shuttin' 'em out!_ She's done +it!! The race is won!!!" + +He jumped from the wagon and plunged into the crowd, which +respectfully made way for him. + +* * * * * + +"I've somethin' to tell ye, Mandy," said Mr. Roberts, some ten months +later. I feel kind o' mean, too. But I done it for you; for love o' +you, Mandy." + +"Yes, Nal; what is it?" + +They had been married a fortnight. + +"Ye remember when the old man had the fit in the timer's box? Well, +that knocked me galley-west. I felt a reg'ler murderer. But when he'd +braced up, an began makin' himself hateful over our weddin', I felt +glad that I'd done what I done." + +"And what had you done, Nal, dear?" + +"Hold on, Mandy, I'm tellin' this. Ye see, he promised to sell ye to +me for two thousand dollars cash. But when I tendered him the coin, he +went back on me. He was the meanest, the ornariest----" + +"Hush, Nal, he's dead now." + +"You bet he is, or we wouldn't be sittin' here." + +They were comfortably installed upon the porch of the old adobe. A +smell of paint tainted the air, and some shavings and odds and ends of +lumber betrayed a recent visit from the carpenter. The house, in +short, had been placed in thorough repair. A young woman with fifty +thousand dollars in her own right can afford to spend a little money +upon her home. + +"He wouldn't take the coin," continued Nal, "he said I'd robbed him of +it, an' so I had." + +"Oh, Nal!" + +"It was this way, Mandy. Ye remember the trial, an' how you give the +snap away. Well I studied over it, an' finally I concluded to jest dig +up the half-mile post, an' put it one hundred feet nearer home. I took +considerable chances but not a soul suspicioned the change. The next +night I put it back again. The old man timed the colt an' so did I. +_Fifty-one seconds!_ I knew my filly could do the whole half-mile +in that. Comet's second dam was a bronco, an' that will tell! But I +wanted to make your grandfather bet his wad. He never could resist a +sure-shot bet, never. That's all." + +Amanda looked deep into his laughing eyes. + +"He was willing to sell me, his own flesh and blood," she murmured +dreamily. "I think, Nal, you served him just about right, but I wish, +don't get mad, Nal, I wish that--er--someone else had pulled up the +post!" + + + + +XVII + +MINTIE + + +Mintie stood upon the porch of the old adobe, shading her brown eyes +from the sun, now declining out of stainless skies into the brush- +hills to the west of the ranch. The hand shading the eyes trembled; +the red lips were pressed together; faint lines upon the brow and +about the mouth indicated anxiety, and possibly fear. A trapper would +have recognised in the expression of the face a watchful intensity or +apprehension common to all animals who have reason to know themselves +to be the prey of others. + +Suddenly a shot rang out, repeating itself in echoes from the canon +behind the house. Mintie turned pale, and then laughed derisively. + +"Gee!" she exclaimed. "How easy scairt I am!" + +She sank, gaspingly, upon a chair, and began to fan herself with the +skirt of her gown. Then, as if angry on account of a weakness, +physical rather than mental, she stood up and smiled defiantly, +showing her small white teeth. She was still trembling; and remarking +this, she stamped upon the floor of the porch, and became rigid. Her +face charmed because of its irregularity. Her skin was a clear brown, +matching the eyes and hair. She had the grace and vigour of an +unbroken filly at large upon the range. And, indeed, she had been born +in the wilderness, and left it but seldom. Her father's ranch lay +forty miles from San Lorenzo, high up in the foothills--a sterile +tract of scrub--oak and cedar, of manzanita and chaparral, with here +and there good grazing ground, and lower down, where the creek ran, a +hundred acres of arable land. Behind the house bubbled a big spring +which irrigated the orchard and garden. + +Teamsters, hauling grain from the Carisa Plains to the San Lorenzo +landing, a distance of nearly a hundred miles, would beguile +themselves thinking of the apples which old man Ransom would be sure +to offer, and the first big drink from the cold spring. + +Mintie was about to enter the house, when she saw down the road a tiny +reek of white dust. "Gee!" she exclaimed for the second time. + +"Who's this?" + +Being summer, the hauling had not yet begun. Mintie, who had the +vision of a turkey-buzzard, stared at the reek of dust. + +"Smoky Jack, I reckon," she said disdainfully. Nevertheless, she went +into the house, and when she reappeared a minute later her hair +displayed a slightly more ordered disorder, and she had donned a clean +apron. + +She expressed surprise rather than pleasure when a young man rode up, +shifted in his saddle, and said:-- + +"How air you folks makin' it?" + +"Pretty fair. Goin' to town?" + +"I thought, mebbe, of goin' to town nex' week. I come over jest to +pass the time o' day with the old man." + +"Rode ten miles to pass the time o' day with--Pap?" + +"Yas." + +"Curiously fond men air of each other!" + +"That's so," said Smoky admiringly. "An' livin' alone puts notions o' +love and tenderness into my head that never comed thar when Maw was +alive an' kickin'. I tell yer, its awful lonesome on my place." + +He sat up in his saddle, a handsome young fellow, the vaquero rather +than the cowboy, a distinction well understood in California. John +Short had been nicknamed Smoky Jack because of his indefatigable +efforts to clear his own brush-hills by fire. Across his saddle was a +long-barrelled, old-fashioned rifle. Mintie glanced at it. + +"Was that you who fired jest now?" + +"Nit," said Smoky. "I heard a shot," he added. "'Twas the old man. I'd +know the crack of his Sharp anywheres. 'Tis the dead spit o' mine. +There'll be buck's liver for supper sure." + +"Why are you carryin' a gun?" + +"I thought I might run acrost a deer." + +"No other reason?" + +Beneath her steady glance his blue eyes fell. He replied with +restraint-- + +"I wouldn't trust some o' these squatters any further than I could +sling a bull by the tail. Your Pap had any more trouble with 'em?" + +Mintie answered savagely:-- + +"They're a-huntin' trouble. Likely as not they'll find it, too." + +Smoky grinned. Being the son of an old settler, he held squatters in +detestation. Of late years they had invaded the foothills. Pap Ransom +was openly at feud with them. They stole his cattle, cut his fences, +and one of them, Jake Farge, had dared to take up a claim inside the +old man's back-pasture. + +Smoky stared at Mintie. Then he said abruptly-- + +"You look kinder peaky-faced. Anything wrong?" + +"Nothing," replied Mintie. + +"You ain't a-worryin' about your Pap, air ye? I reckon he kin take +keer of himself." + +"I reckon he kin; so kin his daughter." + +"Shall I put my plug into the barn?" + +"We're mighty short of hay," said Mintie inhospitably. + +Smoky Jack stared at her and laughed. Then he slipped from the saddle, +pulled the reins over the horse's head, and threw the ends on the +ground. With a deprecating smile he said softly-- + +"Air you very extry busy, Mints?" + +"Not very extry. Why?" + +"I've a notion to read ye something. It come to me las' Sunday week in +the middle of the night. An' now it's slicked up to the Queen's +taste." + +"Poetry?" + +"I dunno as it's that--after the remarks you passed about that leetle +piece I sent to the _Tribune_." + +"You sent it? Of all the nerve----! Did they print it?" + +Smoky Jack shook his head. + +"Never expected they would," he admitted mournfully. "I won't deny +that it was kind o'----" + +"Slushy?" hazarded Mintie. + +"Wal--yes. You'd made all sorts of a dodgasted fool outer me." + +"Yer father and mother done that." + +"I've said as much to Maw, many's the time. 'Maw' I'd say, 'I ain't a +masterpiece--and I know it.' But las' Sunday night I was +_in_spired." + +He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Mintie frowned. With a shy +glance and heightened colour the man who had been inspired whispered +softly-- + +"It's entitled, 'To My Own Brown Bird.'" + +"And who's your brown bird?" demanded Mintie sharply. + +"As if you didn't know." + +"Meanin' me?" + +"Couldn't naturally be nobody else." + +"I'm not yours; and as for bein' brown, why, my skin is white as +milk." + +"I'll bet my life it is." + +"As for bein' a bird, that ain't no compliment. Birds is first cousins +to snakes. Never knew that, did ye?" + +"Never--s'elp me! Is that really so?" + +Covered with mortification, he put the paper back into his pocket. + +"Read it," commanded the young lady. "Let's get it over an' done with. +Then, mebbe, I'll help ye to rechristen the durned thing." + +Emboldened by this gracious speech, Smoky began in a nasal, drawling +voice-- + + "I've wandered far--I've wandered wide----" + +"Ananias!" said Mintie. "You was born in these yere foothills, and +raised in 'em; and you've never known enough to git out of 'em." + +"Git out of 'em?" + +"Git out of 'em," she repeated scornfully. "D'ye think if I was a man +I'd stop in such a God-forsaken place as yours, with nothing but +rattlesnakes and coyotes to keep me company? Go on!" + + "I've wandered far--I've wandered wide-- + I've dwelt in many a stately tower; + And now I turn me back to ride + To my own brown bird in her humble bower." + +"That'll do," said Mintie. "You ain't improved much. Bill Shakespeare +can rest easy in his tomb. I've got my chores to do. 'Bout time you +was doin' yours." + +Smoky Jack, refusing to budge, said jocosely, "Things air fixed up to +home. 'Twouldn't worry me any if I never got back till to-morrer." + +Mintie frowned and went into the house. Smoky led his horse to the +barn with perplexity and distress writ large upon his face. + +"Notice to quit," he muttered. Then he grinned pleasantly. "Reckon a +perfect gen'leman 'd take the hint and clear out. But I ain't a +perfect gen'leman. What in thunder ails the girl?" + +* * * * * + +It was nearly seven when Pap Ransom reached his corral. Smoky had +milked the cow and fed the pigs. In the kitchen Mintie was frying some +potatoes and stirring the big pot full of beans and bacon. From time +to time Smoky had caught a glimpse of her white apron as she whisked +in and out of the kitchen. Although a singularly modest youth, he +conceived the idea that Mintie was interested in his doings, whereas +we must admit that she was more concerned about her father. However, +when she saw Pap ascend the hill, carrying his rifle over his +shoulder, her face resumed its ordinary expression, and from that +minute she gave to the simple preparations for supper undivided +attention. + +"Whar's the liver?" said Smoky, as the old man nodded to him. + +"Liver?" + +"Heard a shot, jest one, and made certain a good buck was on his +back." + +"I never fired no shot," said Ransom slowly. + +"Wal, I'm hanged! Is there another Sharp besides mine in these yere +hills?" + +"I dessay. I heard one shot myself, 'bout two hours ago." + +"Guess it was one o' them derned squatters." + +"Curse 'em!" said Ransom. He spat upon the ground and walked into the +abode. Smoky nodded reflectively. + +Supper was not a particularly cheery meal. Mintie, usually a nimble +talker, held her tongue. Ransom aired his pet grievance--the advent of +Easterners, who presumed to take up land which was supposed to belong +to, or at least go with, the old Spanish grants. Smoky and Mintie knew +well enough that the land was Uncle Sam's; but they knew also that +Ransom had run his cattle over it during five-and-twenty years. If +that didn't constitute a better title than a United States patent, +there was no justice anywhere. Smoky, filled with beans and bacon, +exclaimed vehemently-- + +"Shoot 'em on sight, that's what I say." + +Mintie stared at his bright eyes and flushed cheeks. + +"Do you allus mean jest what you say?" she inquired sarcastically. + +"Wal," replied Smoky, more cautiously, "they ain't been monkeyin' with +me; but if they did----" + +"If they did----?" drawled Mintie, with her elbows on the table and +her face between her hands. + +"If they cut my fence as they've cut yours, and, after doo warnings, +kep' on trespassin' and makin' trouble, why then, by Gosh! I'd shoot. +Might give 'other feller a show, but there's trouble as only kin be +settled with shootin' irons." + +"That's so" said Mintie savagely. + +After supper Mintie retired to the kitchen to wash up. Ransom put a +jar of tobacco on the table, two glasses, and some whisky. + +"Any call for ye to ride home to-night?" + +"None," said Smoky. + +"Reckon ye'd better camp here, then." + +Smoky nodded and muttered-- + +"Don't keer if I do," a polite form of acceptance in the California +foothills. + +Presently Ransom went out. Smoky was left alone. He filled his corn- +cob pipe, stretched out his legs, and smiled, thinking of his own +brown bird. Suddenly a glint came into his bright blue eyes. In the +corner of the room, against the wall, leaned the two Sharp rifles. +Smoky glanced about him, rose, walked to the corner, bent down, and +smelt the muzzle of Ransom's rifle. Then he slipped his forefinger +into the barrel and smelt that. + +"Sufferin' Moses!" he exclaimed. + +His mouth was slightly twisted, as he picked up the rifle and opened +the breech. He drew out a used cartridge, which he examined with +another exclamation. + +"Holy Mackinaw!" + +He put the cartridge into his pocket and glanced round for the second +time. He could hear Mintie washing-up in the kitchen. Ransom was +feeding his horses. Smoky took a cleaning-rod, ran it through the +rifle, and examined the bit of cloth, which was wet and greasy. Then +he replaced the rifle and went back to the table, where Ransom found +him when he returned a few minutes later. The two men smoked in +silence. Presently Ransom said abruptly:-- + +"Dead struck on Mints, ain't ye?" + +"I am," said Smoky laconically. + +"Told her so--hay?" + +"'Bout a million times." + +"What does she say?" + +Smoky blew some rings of smoke before he answered. + +"She says--'Shucks!'" + +"That don't sound encouragin'." + +"It ain't. Fact is, she thinks me a clam." + +"A clam?" + +"That's right. She'd think a heap more o' me if I was to pull out o' +these yere hills and try to strike it somewheres else." + +"Wal, squatters have made this no kind o' country for a white man. +Ye're white, John." + +"I aim ter be." + +"You air, sonnie. Say, if anything happened to me, would ye watch out +for Mints?" + +"I wonder!" + +"S'pose, fer the sake of argyment, that one o' these sons o' guns did +for me--hay?" + +"'Tain't likely," said Smoky scornfully. "I'd bet my boots on you +every time." + +"They may do fer me," said Ransom slowly, "and, if so----" + +"I'll watch out for Mints," said Smoky very fervently. + +* * * * * + +Presently Mintie joined them and, sitting down, began to darn some +stockings. Apparently she was engrossed with her work, but Smoky +stared at her, noticing that her fingers trembled. Ransom smoked and +said nothing. Smoky talked, trying to challenge Mintie's interest and +attention, but sensible of failure. Moreover, he had nothing to talk +about except bad times and bad luck. Father and daughter listened +grimly, well aware that their friend and neighbour was fighting +against lack of water, a sterile soil, and a "plastered" ranch. + +"Why don't you quit?" Ransom asked testily. + +"I ain't a quitter." + +"He don't know enough to let go," said Mintie. + +"I could earn good money with my uncle in Los Angeles County. He wants +me." + +Mintie tossed her head. + +"If he wants you, the sooner you skin outer this the better." + +"Uncle's well fixed," said Smoky, "and an old bach. He wants a live +young man to take aholt with his ranch, and a live young woman to run +the shebang. If I was married----!" + +"Pity you ain't," said Mintie, without looking up. + +Ransom, who had conducted his courting upon Western principles, rose +up slowly and disappeared. Left alone with his beloved, the young man +blushed and held his tongue. + +"You think a heap o' the old man?" he hazarded, after an interminable +pause. + +"I do. He's a man, is Pap." + +"Meanin'?" + +"Anything you please." + +"You mean that I ain't a man?" + +Mintie laughed softly; and at that moment the old dog, lying by the +hearth, got up and growled. Rebuked by Mintie, he continued growling, +while the hair upon his aged back began to bristle with rage. + +"Hark!" exclaimed Mintie. + +They could hear voices outside. The dog barked furiously as somebody +hammered hard upon the door. + +"Who can it be?" said Mintie nervously. + +Smoky Jack opened the door; four or five men came in. At the door +opposite appeared Ransom. + +"What is it?" he asked harshly. "What brings you here at this time o' +night?" + +The leader of the party, a tall 'Piker,' answered as curtly-- + +"Business." + +"What business?" + +"I don't talk business afore wimmenfolks." + +Mintie's face was white enough now, and her lips were quivering. + +"Come you here, child," said her father. + +He looked at her steadily. + +"You go to bed an' stay there. Not a word! An' don't worry." + +Mintie hesitated, opened her mouth and closed it. Then she walked +quietly out of the room. + +"What brings you here?" repeated Ransom. + +"Murder." + +"Murder? Whose murder?" + +"This afternoon," replied the 'Piker,' "Jake Farge was shot dead on +your land, not a quarter of a mile from this yere house. His widder +found him and come to me." + +"Wal?" + +"She says the shot that killed him must ha' bin fired 'bout six. She +heard it, an' happened to look at the clock." + +"Wal?" + +"She swears that you fired it." + +Smoky burst in impetuously-- + +"At six I kin swear that Pap was a-talkin' to me in his own corral." + +The squatters glanced at each other. The 'Piker' laughed derisively. + +"In love with his darter, ain't ye?" + +"I am--and proud of it!" + +"Them your guns?" The spokesman addressed Ransom, indicating the two +rifles. + +"One of 'em is mine; t'other belongs to Smoky." + +The 'Piker' crossed the room, examined the rifles, opened each, and +peered down the barrels. He glanced at the other squatters, and said +laconically-- + +"Quite clean--as might be expected." + +Ransom betrayed his surprise very slightly. He had just remembered +that he had left an empty cartridge in his rifle, and that it was not +clean. + +The 'Piker' turned to him again. + +"You claim that you know nothing o' this job?" + +"Not a thing." + +"And you?" + +The big 'Piker' stared superciliously at Smoky. + +"Same here," said Smoky. + +The visitors glanced at each other, slightly nonplussed. The big +'Piker' swore in his beard. "We'll arrest the hull outfit," he said +decidedly, "and carry 'em in to San Lorenzy." + +"You ain't, the sheriff nor his deputy," said Ransom. "What d'ye +mean," he continued savagely, "by coming here with this ridic'lous +song and dance? There's the door. Git!" + +"You threatened to shoot Farge," said the 'Piker.' "An' it's my solid +belief you done it in cold blood, too. We're five here, all heeled, +and there's more outside. If you're innocent the sheriff'll let you +off to-morrer; but, innocent or guilty, by Gosh, you're comin' with us +to-night. Hold up yer hands! Quick!" + +Ransom and Smoky held up their hands. + +"Search 'em," commanded the 'Piker.' + +This was done effectively. A Derringer doesn't take up much room in a +man's pocket, but it has been known to turn the tables upon larger +weapons. Ransom and Smoky, however, were unarmed; but the squatter who +ran his hand over Smoky's pockets encountered a small cylinder, which +he held up to the public gaze. + +It was an empty cartridge. + +To understand fully what this meant one must possess a certain +knowledge of Western ways and sentiment. Pistols and rifles belonging +to the pioneers, for example, often exhibit notches, each of which +bears silent witness to the shedding of blood. The writer knew +intimately a very mild, kindly old man who had a strop fashioned out +of several thicknesses of Apache skins. The Apaches had inflicted +unmentionable torments upon him and his, and the strop was his dearest +possession. The men and women of the wilderness are primal in their +loves and hates. + +The big 'Piker' examined the long brass cylinder, small of bore and +old-fashioned in shape. He slipped it into the Sharp rifle, and +laughed grimly as he said-- + +"A relic!" + +Ransom's face was impassive; Smoky Jack exhibited a derisive defiance. +Inwardly he was cursing himself for a fool in having kept the +cartridge. He had intended to throw it away as soon as he found +himself outside. But from the first he had wanted Mintie's father to +know _that he knew!_ Primal again. Pap would not forget to clean +his rifle at the first opportunity; and then, without a word on either +side, he would realise that the man who wanted his daughter was a true +friend. + +We may add that the breaking of the sixth commandment in no wise +affected Smoky. Jake Farge had been warned that he would be shot on +sight if he made "trouble." Everybody in San Lorenzo County was well +aware that it was no kind of use "foolin'" with Pap Ransom. Jake--in a +word--deserved what he had got. Smoky would have drawn as true a bead +upon a squatter disputing title to his land. We don't defend Mr. +Short's ethics, we simply state them. + +The 'Piker' said quietly-- + +"Anything to say, young feller?" + +Smoky Jack made a gallant attempt to bluff a man who had played his +first game of poker before Smoky was born. + +"Yer dead right. It _is_ a relic of a big buck I killed with that +ther gun las' week. Flopped into a mare's nest, you hev!" + +"That shell was fired to-day," said the 'Piker,' authoritatively. "The +powder ain't dry in it. Boys,"--he glanced round at the circle of grim +faces--"let's take the San Lorenzy road." + +* * * * * + +The squatters, reinforced by half a dozen men who had not entered the +adobe, escorted their prisoners down the hill till they came to a +large live oak, a conspicuous feature of the meadow beyond the creek. +The moon shone at the full as she rose majestically above the pines +which fringed the eastern horizon. In the air was a smell of tar-weed, +deliciously aromatic; and the only sounds audible were the whispering +of the tremulous leaves of the cottonwoods and the tinkle of the creek +on its way to the Pacific. + +Smoky inhaled the fragrance of the tar-weed, and turned his blue eyes +to the left, where, in the far distance, a tall pine indicated the +north-west corner of his ranch. Neither he nor Ransom expected to +reach San Lorenzo that night. They were setting out on a much longer +journey. + +Under the live oak Judge Lynch opened his court. No time was wasted. +The squatters were impressed with the necessity of doing what had to +be done quickly. The big 'Piker' spoke first. + +"Boys, ain't it true that in this yere county there ain't bin a single +man executed by the law fer murder in the first degree?" + +"That's right. Not a one!" + +"And if a man has a bit o' dough behind him, isn't it a fact that he +don't linger overly long in San Quentin?" + +"Dead sure snap." + +"Boys, this is our affair. We're pore; we've neither money nor time to +waste in law courts, but we've got to show some o' these fellers as is +holding land as don't belong to 'em that we mean business first, last, +and all the time." + +There was a hoarse murmur of assent. + +"The cold facts are these," continued the speaker. "We all know that +Ransom and Jake Farge hev had trouble over the claim that Farge staked +out inside o' Ransom's fence; an' we know that Ransom has no more +right to the land he fenced than the coyotes that run on it. For +twenty years he's enjoyed the use of what isn't his'n, an' I say he'd +oughter be thankful. Anyways, we come down to the events of yesterday +and to-day. Yesterday he tole Jake that he'd shoot him on sight if he, +Jake, come on to the land which Uncle Sam says is his. Do you deny +that?" + +"That's 'bout what I tole him," drawled Ransom. + +"To-day Jake was shot dead like a dog by somebody who was a-waitin' +for him, hidden in the brush. The widder, pore soul, suspicioning +trouble, follered Jake, and found him with a bullet plumb through his +heart. She heard the shot, and she swore that it come from Ransom's +side o' the fence. And she knows and we know that there isn't a man +'twixt Maine and Californy with a grudge agen Jake, always exceptin' +this yere Ransom." + +"That's so," growled the Court. + +"Boys, Jake was murdered with a bullet of small bore--not with a +bullet outer a Winchester, sech as most of us carry. Whar did that +ther bullet come from, boys?" + +"Outer a Sharp rifle." + +"Jest so. Who fired it? Mebbe we'll never know that. But we know this. +'Twas fired by one o' these yere men. One was and is accessory to +t'other. The boy admits he's sweet on Ransom's gal; an' mebbe he did +this dirt to win her. And he swears that Pap was in his corral at six. +That's a lie or it ain't, as may be. If he was in the corral, t'other +wasn't. Boys--I won't detain ye any longer. Those in favour of hangin' +Thomas Ransom an' John Short here and now hold up their hands!" + +The men present held up their hands. One or two of the more +bloodthirsty held up both hands. + +"That'll do. Those in favour of takin' the prisoners to San Lorenzy +hold up their hands. Nary a hand! Prisoners ye've bin tried by yer +feller-men, and found guilty o' murder in the first degree. Have ye +anything to say?" + +Smoky answered huskily: "Nothin', 'cept that I'm not guilty." + +"An' you, Mr. Ransom?" said the 'Piker,' with odd politeness. + +"I've a lot ter say," drawled the old man. "Seemingly murder has been +done, but Smoky here never done it; nor did I. I fired at a buck an' +missed it. There ain't overly much o' the fool in me, but there's +enough to make me hate ownin' up to a clean miss. When I got to the +corral this evening, Smoky had bin there an hour or so at least. He +arst me if I'd killed a buck and said he'd heard a shot. Wal, I lied, +but I saw that he suspicioned me. Afterwards, I reckon he'd a look at +the old gun, and found the shell in it. He must ha' got it into his +fool head that he was God's appointed instrument to save _me_. +He's as innercent as Mary's little lamb, and so am I." + +The squatters gazed at each other in stupefaction. Not a man present +but could lie fearlessly on occasion, but not with such consummate art +as this. + +"Anything more ter say?" inquired the 'Piker.' + +"Wal, there's this: I tole Jake Farge that I'd shoot him on sight, and +I'm mighty glad that someone else has saved me the trouble. You mean +to do me up; I see that plain. I hated yer comin' into a country that +won't support a crowd, and I've made things hot for more'n one of ye. +But I wasn't thinkin' o' land when I warned Jake Farge not to set foot +on my ranch." + +"What was you thinkin' of?" + +"Of my Mintie. That feller--a married man--has bin after her--and some +of you know it. She kin take keer of herself can my Mints, but some +things is a man's business. I meant to shoot him, but I didn't. I'm +glad the low-down cuss is dead, but the bullet that stopped his +crawlin' to my gal never come outer my rifle. Now string me up, and be +derned to ye, but let this young feller go back to look after my +daughter. That's all." + +He faced them with a derisive smile upon his weather-beaten face. + +Obviously, the Court was impressed, but the fact remained that Jake +Farge was dead, and that someone must have killed him. + +"What d'ye say, boys?" + +"I say he's lyin'," observed a squatter, whom Thomas Ransom had +discovered ear-marking an unbranded calf. + +"Smoky knows that Pap done it," remarked another. + +This bolt went home. Smoky's face during the preceding five minutes +had been worth studying. He was quite sure that the old man was lying, +and upon his ingenuous countenance such knowledge, illuminated by +admiration and amazement, was duly inscribed. + +"Pap's yarn is too thin," said a gaunt Missourian. + +"It's thin as you air," said Ransom contemptuously. "Do you boys think +that I'd spring so thin a tale on ye, if it wasn't true?" + +At this they wriggled uneasily. The 'Piker,' with some experience of +fickle crowds, said peremptorily-- + +"The old man done it, and the young 'un knows he done it. They're jest +two of a kind. Those in favour of hangin' 'em both hold up their +hands. One hand apiece will do." + +Slowly, inexorably, the hands went up. The judge pronounced sentence-- + +"Ye've five minutes. Say yer prayers, if ye feel like it." + +The simple preparations were made swiftly. Two raw-hide lariats were +properly adjusted. The prisoners looked on with the stoical +indifference of Red Indians. It might have been said of the pair that +neither had known how to live, but each knew how to die. + +"Ready?" said the 'Piker.' + +"Hold on!" replied a high-pitched voice. + +The crowd turned to behold Mintie. She had crawled up silently and +stealthily. But now she stood upright, her small head thrown back, her +eyes glittering in the moonlight. + +"Got a rope fer me?" she asked. "I've heard everything." + +Nobody answered. The girl laughed; then she said slowly-- + +"I shot Jake Farge--with this." + +She threw a small revolver at the 'Piker,' who picked it up. "I killed +him at five this afternoon. I knew that if I didn't do it Pap would, +and that you'd hang him. Jake came after me agen an' agen, an' each +time I warned him. To-day he came fer the last time. He was half- +crazy, and I had to kill the beast to save myself. I did it, and"-- +she looked steadfastly at Smoky Jack--"I ain't ashamed of it, neither. +There's only one man in all the world can make love to me. I never +knowed that I keered for him till to-night." + +She pointed at Smoky, who remarked deprecatingly-- + +"I allus allowed you was a daughter o' the Golden West." + +"If you ain't goin' to hang me," said Mintie, "don't you think you'd +better skip?" + +She laughed scornfully, and the men, without a word, skipped. Smoky, +his hands loosed, seized Mintie in his arms, as the moon slipped +discreetly behind a cloud. + + + + +XVIII + +ONE WHO DIED + + +He was a remittance man, who received each month from his father, a +Dorset parson, a letter and a cheque. The letter was not a source of +pleasure to the son, and does not concern us; the cheque made five +pounds payable to the order of Richard Beaumont Carteret, known to +many men in San Lorenzo county, and some women, as Dick. Time was when +Mr. Carteret cut what is called a wide swath, when indeed he was +kowtowed to as Lord Carteret, who drove tandem, shot pigeons, and +played all the games, including poker and faro. But the ten thousand +pounds he inherited from his mother lasted only five years, and when +the last penny was spent Dick wrote to his father and demanded an +allowance. He knew that the parson was living in straitened +circumstances, with two daughters to provide for, and he knew also +that his mother's fortune should in equity have been divided among the +family; but, as he pointed out to his dear old governor, a Carteret +mustn't be allowed to starve; so the parson, who loved the handsome +lad, put down his hack and sent the prodigal a remittance. He had +better have sent him a hempen rope, for necessity might have made a +man out of Master Dick; the remittance turned him into a moral idiot. + +A Carteret, as you know, cannot do himself justice upon five pounds a +month, so Dick was constrained to play the part of Mentor to sundry +youthful compatriots, teaching them a short cut to ruin, and sharing +the while their purses and affections. But, very unhappily for Dick, +the supply of fools suddenly failed, and, lo! Dick's occupation was +gone. Finally, in despair, he allied himself to another remittance +man, an ex-deacon of the Church of England, and the two drifted slowly +out of decent society upon a full tide of Bourbon whisky. + +Tidings must have come to the parson of his son's unhappy condition, +or possibly he decided that the Misses Carteret were entitled to the +remittance. It is certain that one dreadful day Dick's letter +contained nothing but a sheet of note-paper. + +"I can send you no more cheques" (wrote the parson), "not another +penny will you receive from me. I pray to God that He may see fit to +turn your heart, for He alone can do it. I have failed ..." + +Dick showed this letter to his last and only friend, the ex-deacon, +the Rev. Tudor Crisp, known to many publicans and sinners as the +'Bishop.' The two digested the parson's words in a small cabin +situated upon a pitiful patch of ill-cultivated land; land +irreclaimably mortgaged to the hilt, which the 'Bishop' spoke of as +"my place." Dick (he had a sense of humour) always called the cabin +the rectory. It contained one unplastered, unpapered room, carpetless +and curtainless; a bleak and desolate shelter that even a sheep-herder +would be loth to describe as home. In the corners were two truckle +beds, a stove, and a large demijohn containing some cheap and fiery +whisky; in the centre of the floor was a deal table; on the rough +redwood walls were shelves displaying many dilapidated pairs of boots +and shoes, also some fly-specked sporting prints, and, upon a row of +nails, a collection of shabby discoloured garments, ancient "hartogs," +manifesting even in decay a certain jaunty, dissolute air, at once +ludicrous and pathetic. Outside, in front, the 'Bishop' had laid out a +garden wherein nothing might be found save weeds and empty beer +bottles, dead men denied decent interment. Behind the cabin was the +dust-heap, an interesting and historical mound, an epitome, indeed, of +the 'Bishop's' gastronomical past, that emphasised his descent from +Olympus to Hades; for on the top was a plebeian deposit of tomato and +sardine cans, whereas below, if you stirred the heap, might be found a +nobler stratum of terrines, once savoury with _foie gras_ and +Strasbourg _pate_, of jars still fragrant of fruits embedded in +liqueur, of bottles that had contained the soups that a divine loves-- +oxtail, turtle, mulligatawny, and the like. Upon rectory, glebe, and +garden was legibly inscribed the grim word--ICHABOD. + +"He means what he says," growled Dick. "So far as he's concerned I'm +dead." + +"You ought to be," said the 'Bishop,' "but you aren't; what are you +going to do?" + +This question burned its insidious way to Dick's very vitals. What +could he do? Whom could he do? After a significant pause he caught the +'Bishop's' eye, and, holding his pipe as it might be a pistol, put it +to his head, and clicked his tongue. + +"Don't," said the 'Bishop' feebly. + +The two smoked on in silence. The Rev. Tudor Crisp reflected +mournfully that one day a maiden aunt might withdraw the pittance that +kept his large body and small soul together. This unhappy thought sent +him to the demijohn, whence he extracted two stiff drinks. + +"No," said Dick, pushing aside the glass. "I want to think, to think. +Curse it, there must be a way out of the wood. If I'd capital we could +start a saloon. We know the ropes, and could make a living at it, +more, too, but now we can't even get one drink on credit. Why don't +you say something, you stupid fool?" + +He spoke savagely. The past reeled before his eyes, all the cheery +happy days of youth. He could see himself at school, in the playing +fields, at college, on the river, in London, at the clubs. Other +figures were in the picture, but he held the centre of the stage. God +in heaven, what a fool he had been! + +The minutes glided by, and the 'Bishop' refilled his glass, glancing +from time to time at Dick. He was somewhat in awe of Carteret, but the +whisky warmed him into speech. + +"Look here," he said with a spectral grin, "what's enough for one is +enough for two. We'll get along, old man, on my money, till the times +mend." + +Dick rose, tall and stalwart; and then he smiled, not unkindly, at the +squat, ungainly 'Bishop.' + +"You're a good chap," he said quietly. "Shake hands, and-good-bye." + +"Why, where are you going?" + +"Ah! Who knows? If the fairy tales are true, we may meet again later." + +Crisp stared at the speaker in horror. He had reason to know that Dick +was reckless, but this dare-devil despair apalled him. Yet he had wit +enough to attempt no remonstrance, so he gulped down his, whisky and +waited. + +"It's no use craning at a blind fence," continued Dick. "Sooner or +later we all come to the jumping-off place. I've come to it to-night. +You can give me a decent funeral--the governor will stump up for that +--and there will be pickings for you. You can read the service, +'Bishop.' Gad! I'd like to see you in a surplice." + +"Please, don't," pleaded the Rev. Tudor. + +"He'll be good for a hundred sovs.," continued Dick. "You can do the +thing handsomely for half that." + +"For God's sake, shut up." + +"Pooh! why shouldn't you have your fee? That hundred would start us +nicely in the saloon business, and----" + +He was walking up and down the dusty, dirty floor. Now he stopped, and +his eyes brightened; but Crisp noted that his hands trembled. + +"Give me that whisky," he muttered. "I want it now." + +The 'Bishop' handed him his glass. Dick drained it, and laughed. + +"Don't," said the 'Bishop' for the third time. Dick laughed again, and +slapped him on the shoulder. Then the smile froze on his lips, and he +spoke grimly. + +"What does the apostle say--hey? We must die to live. A straight tip! +Well--! I shall obey the apostolic injunction gladly. I'm going to die +to-night. Don't jump like that, you old ass; let me finish. I'm going +to die to-night, but you and I are going into the saloon business all +the same. Yes, my boy, and we'll tend bar ourselves, and keep our eyes +on the till, and have our own bottle of the best, and be perfect +gentlemen. Come on, let's drink to my resurrection. Here's to the man +who was, and is, and is to be." + +"You're a wonder," replied the 'Bishop' fervently. "I understand. You +mean to be your own undertaker." + +"I do, my lord. Now give me the baccy, some ink and paper, and an +hour's peace." + +But the hour passed and found Dick still composing. The 'Bishop' +watched his friend with spaniel-like patience. At last the scribe +flung down his pen, and read aloud, as follows-- + +"The Rectory, San Lorenzo, + +"_September 1,_ + +"To the Rev. George Carteret. + +"Dear Sir,--I beg to advise you, with sincere regret on my part, of +the sudden demise of your son, Richard Beaumont Carteret, who died at +my house just three days ago of heart failure, quite painlessly. You +will find enclosed the doctor's certificate, the coroner's report, and +the undertaker's bill _paid and receipted_. + +"I had a very honest friendship for your son, although I deplored a +misspent youth. But I rejoice to say that poor Dick lived long enough +to heartily repent him of his sins, which after all were sins against +himself. He often talked of home and you, alluding feelingly to the +sacrifices you had made on his behalf--sacrifices that he confessed +were far greater than his deserts. + +"I am a poor man, but I felt impelled to give your son the funeral of +a gentleman. The bills I have paid, as you will observe, in full, +including the purchase in perpetuity of a lot in the cemetery. Should +you see fit to refund me these amounts, I shall not refuse the money; +if, on the other hand, you repudiate the claim, I shall let the matter +drop. I could not permit my friend to be buried as a pauper. + +"It is possible that you may wish a stone placed at the head of the +grave. A suitable cross of plain white marble would cost about two +hundred dollars. If you care to entrust me with the sad commission, I +will give it my earnest attention. + +"I refer you to my aunt, Miss Janetta Crisp, of Montpelier Road, +Brighton, and also to the Clergy List. + +"Very truly yours, + +"Tudor Crisp (The Rev.)." + +"There," exclaimed Mr. Carteret, "that will do the trick. The bills +and other documents we'll forge at our leisure to-morrow." + +"I don't quite like the use of my name," protested the Rev. Tudor +Crisp. + +Dick explained that his reverence would be entitled to half the +plunder, and that discovery was almost impossible. Still, despite +Dick's eloquence, the 'Bishop' submitted that such a cruel fraud was +"tough" on the old gentleman. + +"On the contrary," retorted the other. "He will assume that I died in +the odour of sanctity, in the atmosphere of a rectory, in the arms of +a parson. He'll worry no more, poor old chap, about my past or my +future. This is the turning-point of our fortunes. Don't look so glum, +man. Here--hit the demijohn again." + +But the 'Bishop' declined this invitation, and betook himself to his +blankets, muttering inarticulate nothings. Dick relighted his pipe, +and refilled his glass. Then he walked to the mantelshelf and gazed +long and critically at three framed photographs of his father and two +sisters. These were almost the only property he possessed. It is +significant from an ethical point of view that Dick kept these +pictures where he could see them. The 'Bishop' had photos also, but +they lay snug at the bottom of an old portmanteau. His reverence was +sensible that he was not worthy to keep company with even the pictures +of honourable and respectable persons. No such qualms affected Dick. +He regarded these photos as credentials. His father had a charming +face--one of those human documents whereon are inscribed honour, +culture, benevolence, and the wisdom that is not of this world. The +sisters, too, had comely features; and strangers introduced to the +family group always felt more kindly disposed to the prodigal so far +from such nice people. Dick had impetrated more than one loan, using +these portraits as collateral security. Did his heart soften as he +bade them farewell? Who can tell? + +* * * * * + +Within six weeks the Rev. Tudor Crisp received a cheque from distant +Dorset, and the proceeds were duly invested in a saloon in San +Clemente, a town some twenty miles from San Lorenzo. Moreover, the +business prospered from the start. The partners, Crisp and Cartwright +(Dick deemed it wise to alter his name), kept no assistants, so there +was no leakage from the till. They understood that this liquor traffic +was a shameful trade, but they pronounced themselves unable to follow +any other. Curiously enough the work proved a tonic to the 'Bishop.' +He allowed himself so many drinks a day, and observed faithfully other +rules to his physical and financial betterment. He started a reading- +room in connection with the bar, for he had had experience in such +matters when a curate at home; and the illustrated papers sent +regularly by his maiden aunt were in great demand. Indeed, the mere +reading about football matches and the like created an unquenchable +thirst in cowboys and sheep-herders. Moreover the 'Bishop' enforced +order and decorum, being a muscular Christian, and the boys learned to +curb obscene tongues in his presence. Dick marvelled at the change in +his partner, but he was shrewd enough to see that it brought grist to +the gin-mill. + +"Once a parson, always a parson," Dick would say; and the Rev. Tudor +would blush and sigh. He never spoke of his clerical days, but once +Dick caught him furtively examining a picture of himself in surplice +and cassock. Each week a division of the profits was made. The +'Bishop's' share was deposited in the local bank, but where Dick's +dollars went it would be indiscreet to tell. He had no stomach for +economies, and observed no rules. When he apprehended the general +drift of things he was content to let the 'Bishop' have his way and +say in regard to the conduct of the business. His reverence bought the +cigars and liquors. Dick could hardly be called a sleeping partner, +for he took the night watch, but the 'Bishop' did most of the work, +and kept the books. Before two years had passed a capital restaurant +was added to the reading-room, where the best of steaks and chops +might be had, hot and hot, at all hours and at a reasonable price. +Dick never knew it, but the 'Bishop' wrote to Miss Janetta Crisp and +begged her to send no more cheques. He told his kind auntie very +modestly that he had a bank account of his own, and that he hoped one +day to thank her in person for all she had done for him. + +Towards the close of the third year the 'Bishop' told Dick that it +would be well for them to leave their saloon, and to purchase a small +hotel then offered for sale. Dick told his old friend to go ahead. His +reverence supplied Dick's share of the purchase-money, and the saloon +knew them no more. But the hotel, under the 'Bishop's' management, +proved a tiny gold mine. + +All this time, however, the memory of that dirty trick he had helped +to play upon an honest gentleman, festered in his memory. He feared +that Nemesis would overtake him, and time justified these fears; for +in the spring of 1898 came a second letter to the Rev. Tudor Crisp, of +The Rectory, San Lorenzo, a letter that the poor 'Bishop' read with +quickening pulses, and then showed to Dick. + +"My very dear Sir" (it began), "a curious change in my fortunes +enables me to carry out a long-cherished plan. I purpose, D.V., to pay +a pilgrimage to my poor son's grave, and shall start for California +immediately. Perhaps you will be good enough to let me spend a couple +of days at the rectory. It will be a mournful pleasure to me to meet +one who was kind to my dear lad. + +"I will write to you again from San Francisco. + +"Very gratefully yours, + +"George Carteret." + +If the hotel, uninsured, had suddenly burst into flames, the 'Bishop' +would have manifested far less consternation. He raved incoherently +for nearly ten minutes, while Dick sat silent and nervous beneath a +storm of remorse. + +"I'll meet your father in San Francisco," said the unhappy Crisp, "and +make a clean breast of it." "That spells ruin," said Dick coldly. "The +governor is a dear old gentleman, but he has the Carteret temper. He +would make this place too hot for you and too hot for me. I've a voice +in this matter, and for once," he added, with unnecessary sarcasm, "I +propose to be heard." + +"What do you mean to do?" + +"If necessary I'll resurrect myself. I'll play the hand alone. You've +no more tact than a hippopotamus. And I'll meet the governor. Don't +stare. Do you think he'll know me? Not much! I left Dorset a smooth- +faced boy; to-day I'm bearded like the pard. My voice, my figure, the +colour of my hair, my complexion are quite unrecognisable. It may be +necessary to show the governor my grave, but I shan't bring him down +here. Now, I must commit murder as well as suicide." + +"What?" + +"I must kill you, you duffer! Do you think my father would return to +England without thanking the man who was kind to his dear lad? And you +would give the whole snap away. Yes; I'll call upon him as Cartwright, +the administrator of the late Tudor Crisp's estate. If it were not for +that confounded grave and marble cross, I could fix him in ten +minutes. Don't frown. I tell you, 'Bishop,' you're not half the fellow +you were." + +"Perhaps not," replied his reverence humbly. + +But when Dick was alone he muttered to himself: "Now what the deuce +did the governor mean by a curious change in his fortunes?" + +* * * * * + +The Rev. George Carteret was sitting at ease in his comfortable rooms +at the Acropolis Hotel. The luxury of them was new to him, yet not +unpleasing after many years of rigorous self-denial and poverty. It +seemed strange, however, that in the evening of life riches should +have come to him--riches from a distant kinsman who, living, had +hardly noticed the obscure scholar and parson. Five thousand pounds a +year was fabulous wealth to a man whose income heretofore had numbered +as many hundreds. And--alas! his son was dead. Not that the parson +loved his daughters the less because they were girls, but as the cadet +of an ancient family he had a Tory squire's prejudice in favour of a +Salique Law. With the thousands went a charming grange in the north +country and many fat acres which should of right be transmitted to a +male Carteret. If--futile thought--Dick had only been spared! + +Thus reflecting, the bellboy brought him a card. The parson placed his +glasses upon a fine aquiline nose. + +"Ahem! Mr.--er--Cartwright. The name is not familiar to me, but I'll +see the gentleman." + +And so, after many years, father and son met as strangers. Dick +fluently explained the nature of his errand. Mr. Carteret's letter had +been given to him as the administrator of the late Mr. Tudor Crisp's +estate. He happened to be in San Francisco, and, seeing Mr. Carteret's +name in the morning paper, had ventured to call. + +"And you, sir," said the father softly, "did you know my son?" + +Dick admitted that he had known himself--slightly. + +"A friend, perhaps? You are an Englishman." Dick pulled his beard. + +"Ah!" sighed the father, "I understand. My poor lad was not one, I +fear, whom anyone would hasten to call a friend. But if I'm not +trespassing too much upon your time and kindness, tell me what you can +of him. What good, I mean." + +Dick kept on pulling his beard. + +"Was there no good?" said the father, very sorrowfully. "His friend, +Mr. Crisp, wrote kindly of him. He said Dick had no enemies but +himself." + +Dick was sensible that his task was proving harder than he had +expected. He could not twist his tongue to lie about himself. Men are +strangely inconsistent. Dick had prepared other lies, a sackful of +them; and he knew that a few extra ones would make no difference to +him, and be as balm to the questioning spirit opposite; yet he dared +not speak good of the man whom he counted rotten to the core. The +parson sighed and pressed the matter no further. He desired, he said, +to see Dick's grave. Then he hoped to return to England. + +Now Dick had made his plans. In a new country, where five years bring +amazing changes, it is easy to play pranks, even in churchyards. In +the San Lorenzo cemetery were many nameless graves, and the sexton +chanced to be an illiterate foreigner who could neither read nor +write. So Dick identified a forlorn mound as his last resting-place, +and told the sexton that a marble cross would be erected there under +his (Dick's) direction. Then he tipped the man, and bought a monument, +taking care to choose one sufficiently time-stained. There are scores +of such in every marble-worker's yard. Upon it were cut Dick's +initials, a date, and an appropriate text. Within three days of the +receipt of Mr. Carteret's letter, the cross was standing in the +cemetery. None knew or cared whence it came. Moreover, Dick had passed +unrecognised through the town where he had once ruffled it so gaily as +Lord Carteret. He had changed greatly, as he said, and for obvious +reasons he had never visited the mission town since his bogus death +and burial. + +Thus it came to pass that Dick and his father travelled together to +San Lorenzo, and together stood beside the cross in the cemetery. +Presently Dick walked away; and then the old man knelt down, +bareheaded, and prayed fervently for many minutes. Later, the father +pointed a trembling finger at the initials. "Why," he demanded +querulously, "did they not give the lad his full name?" And to this +natural question Dick had nothing to say. + +"It seems," murmured the old man mournfully, "that Mr. Crisp, with all +his kindness, felt that the name should perish also. Well, amen, amen. +Will you give me your arm, sir?" + +So, arm in arm, they passed from the pretty garden of sleep. Dick was +really moved, and the impulse stirred within him to make full +confession there and then. But he strangled it, and his jaw grew set +and hard. As yet he was in ignorance of the change in his father's +fortunes. Mr. Carteret assumed none of the outward signs of +prosperity. He wore the clothes of a poor parson, and his talk flowed +along the old channels, a limpid stream not without sparkle, but +babbling of no Pactolian sands. And then, quite suddenly and simply, +he said that he had fallen heir to a large estate, and that he wished +to set aside so much money as a memorial of his son, to be expended as +the experience of the bishop of the diocese might direct. + +"You--you are a rich man?" faltered Dick. + +"My son, sir, had he lived, would have been heir to five thousand a +year." + +Dick gasped, and a lump in his throat stifled speech for a season. +Presently he asked politely the nature of Mr. Carteret's immediate +plans, and learned that he was leaving San Lorenzo for Santa Barbara +on the morrow. Dick had determined not to let his father stray from +his sight till he had seen him safe out of the country, but he told +himself that he must confer with the 'Bishop' at once. The 'Bishop' +must act as go-between; the 'Bishop,' by Jove! should let the cat out +of the bag; the 'Bishop' would gladly colour the facts and obscure the +falsehoods. So he bade his father good-bye, and the old gentleman +thanked him courteously and wished him well. To speak truth, Mr. +Carteret was not particularly impressed with Mr. Cartwright, nor sorry +to take leave of him. Dick soon secured a buggy, and drove off. _En +route_ he whistled gaily, and at intervals burst into song. He +really felt absurdly gay. + +The 'Bishop,' however, pulled a long face when he understood what was +demanded of him. "It's too late," said he. + +"Do you funk it?" asked Dick angrily. + +"I do," replied his reverence. + +"Well, he must be told the facts before he goes south." + +Dick little knew, as he spoke so authoritatively, that his father was +already in possession of these facts. Within an hour of Dick's +departure, Mr. Carteret was walking through the old mission church, +chatting with my brother Ajax. From Ajax he learned that at San +Clemente, not twenty miles away, was another mission of greater +historical interest and in finer preservation than any north of Santa +Barbara. Ajax added that there was an excellent hotel at San Clemente, +kept by two Englishmen, Cartwright and Crisp. Of course the name Crisp +tickled the parson's curiosity, and he asked if this Crisp were any +relation to the late Tudor Crisp, who had once lived in or near San +Lorenzo. My brother said promptly that these Crisps were one and the +same, and was not to be budged from that assertion by the most violent +exclamations on the part of the stranger. A synopsis of the Rev. +Tudor's history followed, and then the inevitable question: "Who is +Cartwright?" Fate ordained that this question was answered by a man +who knew that Cartwright was Carteret; and so, at last, the unhappy +father realised how diabolically he had been hoaxed. Of his suffering +it becomes us not to speak; of his just anger something remains to be +said. + +He drove up to the San Clemente Hotel as the sun was setting, and both +Dick and the 'Bishop' came forward to welcome him, but fell back +panic-stricken at sight of his pale face and fiery eyes. Dick slipped +aside; the 'Bishop' stood still, rooted in despair. + +"Is your name Crisp?" + +"Yes," faltered the 'Bishop.' + +"The Rev. Tudor Crisp?" + +"I--er--once held deacon's orders." + +"Can I see you alone?" + +The 'Bishop' led the way to his own sanctum, a snug retreat, handy to +the bar, and whence an eye could be kept on the bar-tender. The +'Bishop' was a large man, but he halted feebly in front of the other, +who, dilated in his wrath, strode along like an avenging archangel, +carrying his cane as it might be a flaming sword. + +"Now, sir," said Dick's father, as soon as they were alone, "what have +you to say to me?" + +The 'Bishop' told the story from beginning to end, not quite +truthfully. + +"You dare to tell me that you hatched this damnable plot?" + +The 'Bishop' lied: "Yes--I did." + +"And with the money obtained under false pretences you bought a +saloon, you, a deacon of the Church of England?" + +The 'Bishop' lied: "Yes--I did." + +"The devil takes care of his own," said the parson, looking round, and +marking the comfort of the room. + +"Not always," said the 'Bishop,' thinking of Dick. + +"Well, sir," continued the parson, "I'm told that money can work +miracles in this country. And, by God! if my money can sent you to +gaol, you shall go there, as sure as my name is George Carteret." + +"All right," said the 'Bishop.' "I--er--I don't blame you. I think +you're behaving with great moderation." + +"Moderation! Confound it! sir, are you laughing at me?" + +"The Lord forbid!" ejaculated Crisp. + +"Men have been shot for less than this." + +"There's a pistol in that drawer," said the 'Bishop' wearily. "You can +shoot if you want to. Your money can put me into gaol, as you say, and +keep you out of it, if--if you use that pistol." + +Mr. Carteret stared. The 'Bishop' was beginning to puzzle him. He +stared still harder, and the 'Bishop' blushed; an awkward habit that +he had never rid himself of. Now a country parson, who is also a +magistrate, becomes in time a shrewd judge of men. + +"Will you kindly send for my--for your partner?" he said suddenly. +"Please sit or stand where you are. I think you'll admit that I have a +right to conduct this inquiry in my own way." + +Accordingly, Dick was sent for, and soon he took his stand beside the +'Bishop,' facing the flaming blue eyes of his father. Then Mr. +Carteret asked him point blank the questions he had put to the other, +and received the _same_ answers, the 'Bishop' entering an +inarticulate demurrer. + +"It appears," said Mr. Carteret, "that there are two ways of telling +this story. One of you, possibly, has told the truth; the other has +unquestionably lied. I confess," he added dryly, "that my sympathies +are with the liar. He is the honester man." + +"Yes," said Dick. "I'm about as big a blackguard as you'll find +anywhere, but I'm your son all the same. Father--forgive me." + +One must confess that Dick played his last trump in a masterly +fashion. He knew that whining wouldn't avail him, or any puling +hypocrisy. So he told the truth. + +"Is that what you want?" said the father sarcastically. "Only that: my +forgiveness and my blessing?" + +Dick's bold eyes fell beneath this thrust. + +"The man who drove me here," continued the father, "told me a curious +story. It seems that Mr. Crisp here has toiled and moiled for many +years, keeping you in comparative luxury and idleness. Not a word, +sir. It's an open secret. For some occult reason he likes to pay this +price for your company. Having supported you so long, I presume he is +prepared to support you to the end?" + +"He's my friend," said the 'Bishop' stoutly. + +"My son," said the old man solemnly, "died six years ago, and he can +never, _never_," the second word rang grimly out, "be raised from +the dead. That man there," his voice faltered for the first time, "is +another son whom I do not know--whom I do not want to know--let him +ask himself if he is fit to return with me to England, to live with +those gentlewomen, his sisters, to inherit the duties and +responsibilities that even such wealth as mine bring in their train. +He knows that he is not fit. Is he fit to take my hand?" + +He stretched forth his lean white hand, the hand that had signed so +many cheques. Dick did not try to touch it. The 'Bishop' wiped his +eyes. The poor fellow looked the picture of misery. + +"If there be the possibility of atonement for such as he," continued +the speaker--"and God forbid that I should dare to say there is +_not_--let that atonement be made here where he has sinned. It +seems that the stoppage of his allowance tempted him to commit +suicide. I did not know my son was a coward. Now, to close for ever +that shameful avenue down which he might slink from the battle, I +pledge myself to pay again that five pounds a month during my life, +and to secure the same to Richard _Cartwright_ after my death, so +long as he shall live. That, I think, is all." + +He passed with dignity out of the room and into the street, where the +buggy awaited him. Dick remained standing, but the 'Bishop' followed +the father, noting how, as soon as he had crossed the threshold, his +back became bowed and his steps faltered. He touched the old man +lightly on the shoulder. + +"May I take your hand?" he asked. "I am not fit, no fitter than Dick, +but----" + +Mr. Carteret held out his hand, and the 'Bishop' pressed it gently. + +"I believe," said Mr. Carteret after a pause, "that you, sir, may live +to be an honest man." + +"I'll look after Dick," blubbered the 'Bishop,' sorely affected. "Dick +will pan out all right--in the end." + +But Dick's father shuddered. + +"It's very chilly," he said, with a nervous cough. "Good-night, Mr. +Crisp. Good-night, and God bless you." + + + + +XIX + +A RAGAMUFFIN OF THE FOOTHILLS + + +Jeff looked ruefully at the hot dusty road which curled upward and in +front of him like a great white snake. At the top of the grade, where +some pines stood out against the blue sky, hung a small reek of dust +concealing the figure of his late companion. As Jeff gazed, the reek +melted away. The young man told himself that he was alone in the brush +foothills, with a lame horse, and a body (his own) so bruised and +battered that it seemed to belong to somebody else. + +"Hello!" said a voice. + +Jeff stared into the chaparral. Wild lilac and big sage bushes, +flowering lupins and gilias, bordered the road, for spring was abroad +in San Lorenzo county. A boy slipped through the lilacs. + +"Jee-whiz!" said the boy. "You've hurt yourself." + +"That's right," Jeff replied. + +"How did it happen?" + +"The plug crossed his feet in the dip yonder, and rolled plum over me. +Say--do you want to earn an honest dollar?" + +The adjective was emphasised, for none knew better than Jeff that the +foothills harboured queer folk. The boy nodded. + +"You must get a buggy, sonny." + +"A buggy? Anything else? As if buggies grew in the brush-hills!" + +Just then Jeff's sanguine complexion turned grey, and his eyes seemed +to slip back into his head. The boy perceived a bulging pocket, out of +which he whipped a flask. Jeff took a long drink; then he gasped out: +"Thunder! you was smart to find that flask. Ah-h-h!" + +"You're in a real bad fix," said the boy. + +"I _am_ in bad shape," Jeff admitted. "If I'd known I was going +to lose the use o' myself like this, I wouldn't ha' been so doggoned +keen about my friend leavin' me." + +"Your friend must be in a partic'lar hurry." + +"He was that," Jeff murmured. A queer buzzing in his ears and an +overpowering feeling of giddiness made him close his eyes. When he +opened them, the boy had disappeared. Jeff saw that his horse had been +tied up in the shade of a scrub-oak. + +"That boy seems to have some sense," he reflected. "This is a knock- +out, sure." + +Again he closed his eyes. A blue jay began to chatter; and when he had +finished his screed, a cock-quail challenged the silence. Very soon +the wilderness was uttering all its familiar sounds. Jeff, lying flat +on his back, could hear the rabbits scurrying through the chaparral. +After an interminable delay his ears caught the crackle of dry twigs +snapped beneath a human foot. + +"Feelin' lonesome?" + +"I'm mighty glad to see you again," Jeff admitted. "Ah, water! That's +a sight better'n whisky." + +He drank thirstily, for the sun was high in the heavens, and the road +as hot as an oven. + +"I reckoned you'd come back," Jeff continued. + +"Why?" + +"To earn that dollar." He eyed the lad's somewhat ragged overalls. +"Say--what do they call ye to home?" + +"Bud." + +"Bud, eh? Short for brother. Folks got a fam'ly." He reflected that +Bud's sister, if he had one, might be nice-looking. "Well, Bud, I'm +under obligations to ye, for hitchin' up the plug in the shade. 'Twas +thoughtful. Where ha' ye been?" + +"I've been hunting Dad. But he's off in the hills. If I could get ye +to our camp----" + +"The plug'll have to do it. Unhitch him." + +Bud untied the animal, who limped even more acutely than his master. +Perhaps he lacked his master's grit. Jeff was the colour of parchment +when he found himself in the saddle, whereon he sat huddled up, +gripping the horn. + +"Freeze on," said the boy. + +"You bet," Jeff replied laconically. + +Bud led the horse a few yards down the road, passing from it into the +chaparral. Thence, through a tangled wilderness of scrub-oak and +manzanita, down a steep slope, into a pretty canon. + +"Here we are." + +A sudden turn of the trail revealed a squatter's hut built of rough +lumber, and standing beneath a live-oak. A small creek was babbling +its way to the Salinas River. The clearing in front of the hut was +strewn with empty tins. A tumble-down shed encircled by a corral was +on the other side of the creek. Jeff knew at once that he was looking +at one of the innumerable mountain-claims taken up by Eastern settlers +in the days of the great land boom, and forsaken by them a couple of +years afterwards. + +Jeff slid from the saddle on to his sound leg; then, counting rapidly +the shining tins, he said reflectively:-- + +"Bin here about a month, I reckon." + +"Yes--Mister--Sherlock--Holmes." + +Jeff stared. The ragamuffins of the foothills are not in the habit of +reading fiction, although lying comes easy to them. + +"Kin you read?" said Jeff. + +"I--_kin_," replied Bud, grinning (he had nice teeth). "Kin you?" + +"I can cuff a cheeky kid," said Jeff, scowling. + +"But you've got to catch him first." + +The boy laughed gaily, and ran into the house, as Jeff sat down +propping his broad back against a tree. + +"Things here are not what they seem," Jeff murmured to his horse, who +twitched an intelligent ear, as if he, too, was well aware that this +was no home of squatter or miner. And who else of honest men would +choose to live in such a desolate spot? + +Presently the boy came back, carrying a feed of crushed barley. Then +he unsaddled the horse, watered him, and fed him. Jeff grunted +approval. + +"You're earnin' that dollar--every cent of it." A delightful fragrance +of bacon floated to Jeff's nostrils. Evidently provision had been made +for man as well as beast. + +"That smells mighty good," said Jeff. + +Bud helped him to rise, but after one effort Jeff sank back, groaning. + +"It's my boot," he explained. "See--I'm wearing a number eight on a +number fifteen hoof. W-w-what? Pull it off? Not for ten thousand +dollars. We'll cut it off." + +Jeff produced a knife and felt its edge. + +"It's sharp," he said, "sharp as you, Bud; but-doggone it! I can't use +it." + +Bud saw the sweat start on his skin as he tried to pull the injured +foot towards him. + +"S'pose I do it?" the boy suggested. + +"You've not got the nerve, Bud. Why, you're yaller as cheese, you poor +little cuss." + +"I'm not," said the boy, flushing suddenly. + +He took the knife and began to cut the tough leather: a delicate +operation, for Jeff's leg from knee to ankle was terribly swollen. +Slowly and delicately the knife did its work. Finally, a horribly +contused limb was revealed. + +"Cold water--and plenty of it," murmured Jeff. + +"Or hot?" + +"Mebbee hot'd be better." + +Bud disappeared, whistling. + +"That boy's earning a five-dollar bill," said Jeff. "I'm a liar if he +ain't as bright as they make 'em." + +The hot water was brought and some linen. + +"I feel a heap better," Jeff declared presently. + +"How about dinner?" + +"Bud, if ever I hev a son I hope he'll be jest like you. Say--you're +earning big money--d'ye know it?--and my everlastin' gratitude." + +"That's all right. Hadn't I better bring the grub out here? It's nice +and cool under this tree." + +Jeff nodded. The bacon and beans were brought out and consumed. Bud, +however, refused to eat. He preferred to wait for his father. Jeff +asked some questions, as he stowed away the bacon and beans. + +"Your dad must be an awful nice man," said he. + +"He's the best and smartest man in the State," said Bud proudly. + +"Is he! And you two are campin' out for yer health--eh? Ye can't fool +me, Bud." + +"Oh!" + +"I sized you up at once as a city boy." + +"You're more than half right." + +"I'm all right, Bud. In my business I have to be all right. Bless you, +it don't do to make mistakes in my business." + +"And what is your business?" + +Jeff beamed. He was certainly a good-looking fellow, and warmed by +food and, comparatively speaking, free from pain, he was worthy of +more than a passing glance. + +"I'm deputy-sheriff of San Lorenzo County," he declared, "and mighty +proud of it." + +"Proud of this yere county?" said the boy, "or proud of being dep'ty- +sheriff?" + +"By Jing! I'm proud o' both. The county's comin' along fine, and so'm +I, Bud. It's a fact, sonny, that I'm held in high esteem as an +officer. Why, my boss said to me this very day: 'Jeff,' says he, 'yer +makin' a record.'" + +"What sort o' record?" + +Jeff flushed slightly. He was not in the habit of "tooting his own +horn," as he would have put it, but the boy's face invited confidence. + +"A record for dooin' my duty," he answered slowly. "'Tain't as easy as +you might think for." + +"No?" + +"Not by no means. Ye see, Bud, in a new country 'tisn't only the real +bad eggs that worries us. The community can deal with them. No, no, +it's the good fellers gone wrong, the straight 'uns grown crooked, who +keep us stirrin'. And, sometimes, when a friend, a neighbour, flies +the track, an officer is kind o' tempted to look the other way. See?" + +"And you don't look the other way?" + +Jeff's strong chin stuck out, and his eyes sparkled "You bet I don't." + +The boy eyed him attentively. The qualities conspicuous in the +pioneer--energy, fortitude, grit, patience--shone finely out of Jeff's +eyes. + +"I like you, Jeff," said the boy, almost shyly. + +"Shake," said Jeff. "I like you, Bud." + +The two shook hands solemnly. + +"Although I am a city boy," said Bud. + +"But it beats me what yer doing--here?" + +"Just camping. Dad's a botanist and an entomologist." + +"Is that so?" Jeff's face shone. The presence of these strangers in +the wild foothills was adequately explained. Then he laughed, showing +strong, even teeth. "I'd like to meet your dad first-rate, and, Bud, +I'd like even better to meet your sister." + +He punched the boy in the ribs, chuckling to himself. The boy laughed +too, freshly and frankly. + +"Something like you, I reckon," said Jeff, "only cleaner and----" + +"I'm as clean as they make 'em," Bud declared angrily. + +"Keep your hair on, sonny. I'll allow yer as clean as they make boys, +mebbee cleaner, but we're speaking o' girls. Have ye got her picture?" + +"Whose picture?" + +"Your sister's." + +"Well, I declare! How do you know I've got a sister?" + +"I know it," said Jeff. "Call it instinct. Didn't I tell ye that in my +business I've got to jest naturally know things? I jump, Bud, where +the ordinary citizen might, so ter speak, crawl." + +The boy laughed gaily. Then he ran off, returning in a minute with a +small leather case. Out of this he took a cabinet photograph, which he +handed to Jeff. That gentleman became excited at once. + +"I knew it--I knew it!" he exclaimed. "She's a--_peach_! Bud, I'm +mighty glad ye showed me this. Jee--whiz! Yes, and like you, only ten +thousand times better-lookin'. What's her name, Bud?" + +"You don't want to know her name." + +"I want to--the worst kind. My! Look at that cunning little curl! And +her shape! You know nothing o' that yet, Bud, but I tell ye, sir, yer +sister is put up just right according to my notions. Not too tall. +Them strung-out, trained-to-a-hair, high-falutin girls never did fetch +me. I like 'em round, and soft, and innocent. What's her name, sonny?" + +"Sarah." + +"Sairy! Bud, I don't believe that. Sairy! I never did cotton to Sairy. +Yer pullin' my leg, ye young scallywag. The nerve! No--ye don't." + +Jeff had stretched out a long, lean arm, and seized the boy by the +shoulder in a grasp which tightened cruelly. + +"Oh--oh!" + +"Tell me her right name, ye little cuss, or I'll squeeze ye into +pulp." + +"Lemmee go! Dad calls her Sadie." + +Jeff released the shoulder, grinning. + +"Sadie--that's a heap better. I--I could love to--to distraction a +girl o' the name o' Sadie." + +"If Sadie were here----" Bud had removed himself to a respectful +distance, and was now glaring at Jeff, and rubbing his bruised +shoulder. + +"I wish she was, I wish she was. You were saying, Bud----" + +"I was saying that if Sadie were here, she'd fix you mighty quick." + +"Would she? God bless her!" He stared sentimentally at the photograph. + +"Yes, she would. She'd let you know that a girl may be round--an' +soft--an' innocent--and a holy terror, too, when a big, blundering +galoot of a dep'ty-sheriff talks o' loving somebody to whom he's never +been introduced, and never likely to be, neither." + +Jeff looked up in amazement. + +"Why, Bud; why, sonny--ye're real mad! Why, you silly little whipper- +snapper, ye don't think I'd talk that way if the young lady was +around. Great Scot! Look ye here! Now--now I ain't goin' to hurt ye +any. Come nearer. Ye won't? Well, then, don't! But, strictly between +ourselves, I'll tell ye something, although it's agen myself. If your +sister was here, right now, I--I'm so doggoned bashful--I wouldn't +have a word to say--that's a fact." + +"I wish she were here," said Bud, savagely. + +"Now, Bud; that's a real nasty one. Ye don't mean that. Did I hurt yer +shoulder, sonny?" + +"Hurt it? I'll bet it's black and blue most already." + +"I'll bet it ain't. Pull down your shirt, an' let's see. Black and +blue? You air a little liar." + +Bud slowly pulled up the sleeve of his faded blue jumper. Hand and +wrist were burnt brown by the sun, but above, the flesh was white and +soft. Just below the elbow flamed the red and purple marks left by +Jeff's fingers. + +"The shoulder's a sight worse than that," said Bud sulkily. Jeff +displayed honest concern. + +"Pore little Bud," said he, patting the boy's hand which lay in his +own. "It is lucky fer me Miss Sadie ain't round. I reckon she +_would_ fix me for this. And I shouldn't have a word for her, as +I was tellin' ye. She'd think me the biggest kind of a mug." + +So speaking, he picked up the photograph and half slipped it into the +case. + +"Twon't do fer me to look at her," he murmured; "but if ever there was +a case----" + +"Eh?" + +"Never mind." + +"What were you going to say?" + +"Somethin' very fullish." + +"Say it, Jeff. I'll not give ye away to Sadie. Honest, I won't." + +"I believe," said Jeff solemnly, "that I've got it where the bottle +got the cork. It's a curious sort o' feeling, not unpleasant, but kind +o' squirmy." + +"What in thunder are you at?" + +"It's love, Bud--love at first sight. Now, mind--yer not to give me +away. I'm in love end over end with your sister. Don't git mad! She'll +never know it." + +"Are you often taken this way?" + +"Never before, by Jing! That's what's so queer. Mebbee I pitched on my +head. Mebbee I'm delirious." + +"Mebbee you always were--half-baked. Looks like it, I must say. Give +me the case." + +"Any more sisters, Bud? I reckon not. The mould must ha' been broke +when Miss Sadie was born. One'll make trouble enough for we men. Is +there another, Bud?" + +"No." + +"There's another picture in there." + +"Yes--Dad's." + +Now it chanced that as Jeff drew the portrait of Bud's father from the +case the boy had turned, and so missed the amazing expression of +surprise, dismay, horror, that flitted into Jeff's honest face, and +for the moment distorted it. But when he spoke his voice was the same, +and his features were composed. + +"This is your--dad?" + +"Yes. I call him a peach." "It's a fine head--sure," murmured Jeff. + +Bud bent over him, eager to sing the praises of his sire. But, for the +first time since man and boy had met, Jeff's face assumed a hard, +professional look. Bud eyed him interrogatively. + +"Does your leg hurt any?" + +"N-n-o." + +"I'll fetch some more hot water, if you say so." + +"I'm feelin' a heap easier--in my leg." + +He put the two photographs into the case, closed it, and handed it to +Bud with a sigh. + +"Maybe you will meet Sadie some day," said Bud, taking the case. + +"Maybe," Jeff replied, with an indifference which made the boy stare. +Jeff was gazing across the foothills with a queer steely glint in his +blue eyes. Bud ran into the house. + +Instantly, Jeff was alert. He pulled a tattered handbill from his +pocket, smoothed it out, and read it with darkening brows. The bill +offered a handsome reward for any information which would lead to the +arrest of one Sillett, a defaulting assistant-cashier of a Santa +Barbara bank. Sillett and his _daughter_ had disappeared in a +springboard, drawn by a buckskin horse, and were supposed to have +travelled south, in the hope of crossing the border into Mexico. At +the head of the bill was a rough woodcut of Sillett. Jeff crumpled up +the sheet of paper, and stuffed it into his pocket. + +"It's him--sure 'nough," he growled. Then he gasped suddenly, "Jee- +roosalem! Bud is a rosebud!" + +He smiled, frowned, and tugged at his moustache as Bud appeared with +some more hot water. Jeff blushed. + +"You're real kind, but I hate to give ye all this trouble." + +Bud, after bathing the swollen leg, glanced up sharply. + +"You're as red as the king of hearts. You ain't going to have a +fever?" + +"I do feel kind o' feverish," Jeff admitted. + +Bud lightly touched his forehead. + +"Why, it's burning hot, I do declare." + +Jeff closed his eyes, murmuring confusedly, "I b'lieve it'd help me +some if you was to stroke my derned head." + +Bud obediently smoothed his crisp curls. Jeff's forehead was certainly +hot, and it grew no cooler beneath the touch of Bud's fingers. + +"Hello!" exclaimed Bud, a few minutes later. + +"Here's Dad coming across the creek." + +* * * * * + +Sillett advanced leisurely, not seeing the figures under the live-oak. +He carried a tin box and a butterfly-net. He was dressed in the brown +over-alls of Southern California, stained and discoloured by sun and +tar-weed. His face, brown as the over-alls, had, however, a pinched +look, and in his eyes lay a curious tenseness familiar enough to +deputy-sheriffs. For the rest, he had a mild forehead, which he was +wiping as he crossed the creek, a pleasant mouth, and a chin a thought +too delicately modelled for a man. He walked soberly, with the +dragging stride of a tired pedestrian. He was tall, thin, and angular. + +Bud ran to meet him. + +"We've comp'ny," he cried, indicating Jeff. Sillett quickened his +step. + +"Company?" + +Sillett met Jeff's glance with a simple bow, and the inevitable +remark, "Hurt yourself?" + +Jeff explained. While describing his misadventure he decided that Bud +could not be a party to the father's crime. Sillett asked for +permission to examine the wounded leg Presently he asked Jeff to stand +up. + +"Oh, Dad!" protested Bud. + +Jeff obeyed, glad to discover that he could stand upon the injured +foot. + +"Same thing happened to me once," Sillett remarked. "The tight boot +caused more than half the trouble. Sit down, Mr.----?" + +"Wells. Jefferson Wells." + +"Thank you. My name is--of no service to you. And this is my daughter +--Sarah. Run away, Sadie." + +Jeff, watching the daughter, thought her confusion the prettiest thing +he had ever seen. + +"You are a cowboy, I presume?" said Sillett, as Bud disappeared. Not +waiting for Jeff's answer, he went on fluently: "I'm sure I can trust +you; you have an honest face, sir. I'm collecting certain plants and +butterflies, but--I have other reasons for camping out. My daughter +has played the boy, because a boy is safe in these wild hills; an +unprotected girl might be molested. We will do what we can for you. +You, I am sure, will respect this confidence." + +Sillett played his trumps boldly, not knowing that he was speaking to +a deputy-sheriff. Jeff said nothing. Sillett, after asking if the +horse had been fed and watered, followed his daughter into the hut. +Jeff groaned to himself. "Mighty soon I'll be wishing I'd never been +born!" + +However, assured that he was alone, he carefully examined his six- +shooter, and began to reckon what chances there were for and against +arresting Sillett single-handed. Ordinarily, he was quick enough at +such calculations, but Bud introduced confusion into every sum. "I'm +in an awful hole," reflected the unhappy Jeff. + +The hole became a bottomless pit when Bud appeared in a pretty linen +frock, and asked him demurely how he fared. + +"You're looking worse," she said. + +Changing her dress, she had cast off with the rough overalls such +rugosities of manner, speech, and intonation as belonged to the +ragamuffin of the foothills. Poor Jeff assumed his "society" manner +and accent. + +"If I'd only known," he began lamely. + +"You never suspected?" + +A note of anxiety escaped Jeff's ears. + +"N-n-no. Of course not. Why, think how I handled you." + +Sadie blushed. + +"I'll forget everything," she whispered, showing a couple of dimples, +"and we'll begin all over again, Mr.--Wells." + +His confusion, which she attributed to bashfulness, encouraged the +shameless coquette to add: "Maybe you liked me better as Bud?" Jeff +was scarlet as he replied: "I liked Bud first-rate, but Bud'll +remember what I said about his sister." Then he quite spoiled the +effect of this happy phrase by adding hurriedly: "Say, I'd just as +lief you didn't tell your father that I am a deputy-sheriff." + +Sadie raised her dark brows. + +"I thought you were so proud of that." + +"I tooted my own horn, like a tenderfoot." + +"But I liked what you said, Mr. Wells. That's the part I shan't +forget. About doing your duty, you know. Dad would like that too. He's +done his duty, has Dad--always." + +"I'll allow he's done his duty by you." + +She laughed gaily; then, seeing with a woman's quick eyes that the man +was in pain, she said for the second time, "I know you're feeling +worse, Mr. Wells." + +A wiser than Jeff would have assented to this. Jeff rose hastily and +walked a few paces. + +"I'm most well," he declared irritably. + +"Then what ails you?" + +Jeff sat down again, smiling nervously. + +"Well, Miss Sadie, I was thinking of the cruellest thing in this cruel +world." + +"My! What's that?" + +"Why do the innocent suffer for the sins o' the guilty?" + +"You do fly the track." She paused, gazing first at Jeff's troubled +face, and then at the scene about them. The enchantress, Spring, had +touched all things with her magical fingers The time had come when + + "Half of the world a bridegroom is, + And half of the world a bride." + +Very soon--within a month at most--the creek which ran so joyfully to +the great ocean yonder would have run altogether out of sight, leaving +a parched and desolate watercourse in its place. The grass, now a +vivid green, bespangled with brilliant poppies, would fade into +premature age and ugliness. The trees would have assumed the dust- +covered livery of summer. The birds would be mute. + +Sadie shrugged, protestingly, her slender shoulders. + +"Suppose we talk of something else this lovely day?" + +But Jeff paid no attention. In a crude, boyish fashion he had come to +a decision. + +"Shall I tell you a story?" + +"Oh, please!" + +"It happened to a friend of mine, a man I knew real well." + +"A love story, Mr. Wells?" + +"There's love in it, Miss Sadie." + +"I'm glad of that." + +"This man, my friend, he was a brother deputy o' mine, came to be +twenty-six without ever falling in love." + +"My! He must have been hard-hearted--your friend." + +"Mebbee. Well, one fine day he met his mate----" + +"What was she like?" + +"Like? Why, she was the sweetest thing on earth. I'd as lief try to +describe a day such as this----" + +"Oh! I know what's coming. You fell in love with your friend's +sweetheart. Poor Mr. Wells!" + +Jeff ignored this interruption. + +"I was saying that my friend met _his_ mate, nobody's else's, and +though he'd never met her before, by Jing! he knew right off she was +his mate." + +"Love at first sight." + +"That's right. Love at first sight." + +Sadie's face and figure perceptibly relaxed. Her eyes softened +delightfully. With parted lips she seemed to hang upon Jeff's next +words. + +"Unfortunately, she was the daughter of a thief." + +"A thief!" + +"That ain't the right word. Embezzler, I reckon, would fit better. +Leastwise, he'd made away with other folks' money, meanin' to put it +back, no doubt, if he happened to strike the right lead. Luck was dead +against him. Mind ye, he was a good citizen enough, as Westerners go. +I don't deny that he'd average up as well as most. I remember the case +well, because I read about it in the papers. The dry years had bust +him, and the most of his friends too. Some o' these friends he'd +helped. He was on their notes of hand, ye understand?" + +He glanced at her sharply. Would she understand? Would she guess? No. +In the pure, clear eyes upturned to his he read pity, sympathy +interest--nothing more. She nodded. + +"When times mended in Southern California he thought he saw his chance +to get back all he'd lost: just one o' those dead sure shots which +will miss fire. He'd not a cent of his own, so he borrowed, without +askin' leave, a few hundreds, that was all, jest a few hundreds from +somebody else." + +"He was a--thief," said Sadie calmly. + +"It's too hard a word that. Now then, I'm getting to the point. My +friend, deputy-sheriff like me, found himself in this hell of--I mean +in this terrible tight place. He was sent to arrest the father of the +girl he loved." + +"Oh-h-h!" + +This prolonged exclamation sadly puzzled Jeff, whose claim to +consideration at the hands of many friends was a guileless +transparency of purpose, a candour and simplicity unhappily too rare. +Now, his climax, so artfully introduced, provoked nothing more +satisfactory than this "Oh-h-h!" + +"Well," continued Jeff, gazing almost fiercely into Sadie's eyes, "my +friend found the father, and he knew that he could arrest him, or he +could earn the everlastin' gratitude of the girl by letting him +escape--and _helping_ him to escape." + +"And what did your friend do?" Sadie asked quietly. + +"What do you think he did, Miss Sadie?" + +"Did the girl know that her father was a thief?" + +"She was as innocent as Mary's little lamb." + +"I don't know what your friend did," said Sadie, in a clear, emphatic +voice, "but I do know what he ought to have done. His first duty was +to his State." + +Jeff stared, and then laughed. + +"To his State. That's so. Yes, yes; and that's how my friend acted. He +did arrest the father, and the daughter--why, o' course, she never +spoke to him again." + +"It's a sad story," said Sadie, after a pause. "I'm sorry you told it +to me to-day, because----" her voice faltered. + +"Yes," said Jeff, "because----" + +"Because it has been so pleasant to-day-for me, I mean." + +She looked down, blushing. Jeff seized her hand. Sadie tried, not very +hard, to pull it away. Jeff felt the muscles relaxing, the slight form +swayed towards him. Suddenly he released her. + +"O, my God!" he exclaimed. "You are right, I feel in all my bones +you're dead right. I ought to do my duty. I'm feeling and behaving +like a madman." + +Sadie stared at him in troubled silence. She believed that in losing +his heart the poor fellow had lost his wits also. Yet she was sensible +that love for her lay at the root of his distress. And his pain, for +his suffering was pitiful to behold, puckered her brows, twisted her +lips. With a soft cry she touched timidly his shoulder. + +"If you think," she smiled faintly, "that because we've only known +each other a few hours, I----" + +Jeff laughed. The laugh hurt the girl, so that she shrank from him. So +engrossed were the pair that neither marked Sillett as he opened the +door of the hut. He advanced a couple of steps, smoking a pipe, and +then paused, astonished, as Jeff's next words reached him. + +"Look at here," he burst out. "That story----It's my own story. I left +San Lorenzo yesterday afternoon to arrest your father. The sheriff an' +me knew he was somewhere in these foothills." + +"You have come to arrest--Dad?" + +"That's it." + +She stared at him confusedly, trying to recall his story. Jeff waited. + +"You called him a thief. Dad--a thief! How dare you? How dare you? It's +a lie, or--or," she faltered, "or a mistake." + +"No mistake," said Jeff wretchedly. + +He had risen. Man and maid stared fiercely into each other's faces. +Behind them, Sillett stood quietly observant, but his right hand stole +down to his pocket. + +"Hold up your hands!" he said sharply. + +Jeff and the girl sprang apart. Sillett had levelled a pistol at the +deputy-sheriff, repeating his words with one addition: "_Quick!_" +Jeff raised his hands. + +"He carries a 'gun,'" said Sillett to his daughter. "Take it from +him." + +She obeyed. Her face was white as milk, but not with fear. The man who +held the pistol had ceased for the moment to bear any resemblance to +her father, but assuredly he was the defaulter whom Jeff Wells and the +sheriff sought. The expression upon his face revealed that, if nothing +else. Sadie removed the pistol and brought it to Sillett. + +"In the hut, on a nail behind the door, is a piece of cord. Fetch it!" + +She fetched it. + +"Tie his hands behind his back. Tie 'em good and firm. Take your time. +Make a job of it. That's it. Now, then, hitch the loose ends round +that scrub-oak. That's right. Now go into the house, and slip into +your overalls. We'll be shifting camp in less than half-an-hour." + +"Dad!" + +"Well?" + + +"It's true, then?" + +He smiled grimly. + +"Yes--it's true. Get a move on you. Mr. Wells and I are going to have +a little talk." + +She walked slowly towards the hut; then suddenly she turned, flying +back on nimble feet. + +"Dad," she said quickly. "Mr. Wells will help us, if you ask him, if-- +if _I_ ask him." She approached Jeff. "I told you that your duty +was to the State," she continued, "but I take that back. Do you hear? +Save Dad! I don't care what he has done to others, he's always been so +good to me. And if you will help us, I--I----" + +"Sadie!" + +Sillett's voice was very harsh. + +"Yes, Dad." + +"Leave us. Not a word, child. Go!" + +She moved away, the tears trickling from her eyes. Nothing was said +till the door had closed behind her; then Jeff broke the silence, in a +voice with a strange rasp to it. + +"I _will_ help you, Mr. Sillett." + +Sillett thrust his weapon into his pocket, and came close to the +speaker, eyeing him attentively. An impartial observer might have +pronounced the younger man to be the defaulter. + +"You'll help me--eh? How?" + +"I can get you safe into Mexico." + +"Can you?" + +"At a word from me the sheriff'll be huntin' somewheres else. See?" + +"I see." + +"Don't think you'll squeeze through without me. I reckon you've a +springboard and a buckskin in the barn over there?" + +"Maybe." + +"The officers are looking for that buckskin in every little burg +between Santa Cruz and San Diego. You can't pack your grub and +blankets a-foot. I can supply everything. Nobody'll suspect me." + +"Why not?" + +"Because--because o' my record." + +"Oh. It's a clean one, is it?" + +"It is that." + +"Sadie cottoned to you right away. Because she sized you up as +straight, I surmise." + +The speaker smoked silently for a moment; Jeff held his tongue, but +his cheeks were red and hot. + +"Sadie may sour on me now," said the father heavily. + +"Sour on you, Mr. Sillett! Not she." + +Sillett frowned. Then he opened a knife and slashed the cord which +bound Jeff. The fingers which held his pipe were trembling. + +"You'll let me fix things?" said Jeff, in a low voice. + +"And then--suppose--suppose Sadie soured on you?" + +"I'll risk that," Jeff answered slowly. "She's more'n likely to." + +"Um." + +"You're going to give me a free hand?" + +"No." + +The monosyllable burst from his lips with a violence that indicated +the rending asunder of strong barriers. + +"No," he repeated. "One of us, Jefferson Wells, must be an honest man. +I ain't going to whine about the luck, but I stole--I stole--for her. +I wanted to give her what she'd always had from me: a pretty home, +nice clothes, a good time. And what's the result?" He laughed +hoarsely. "This,--this hut, those overalls, beans and bacon to eat, +and now--now--the knowledge that her dad is a thief. Well, she's +cottoned to you. I read it in her face. Quick work, they'd say back +East, but in this new country folks have to think quick and act quick. +I can think quick and act quick. You want her?" + +"Worse than I ever wanted anything in my life." + +"You can take care of her?" + +"I am well fixed. A nest-egg in the bank, a good salary, and a pair of +arms that can carry a heavier load than she'll ever be." + +Sillett nodded; then he spoke very deliberately: "I'm going back to +Santa Barbara to face the music. I shall give myself up. Hold on--let +me finish! I know something of women, and Sadie is the daughter of a +good mother. It's lucky she's dead, poor soul! Don't you ever dare to +tell Sadie _that you weakened_. When she lies awake nights--and +she will--it may comfort her some to think that her husband is an +honest man. I'm going to hit the trail now. When Sadie comes out o' +there, tell her with my love, that I've left her in your charge." + + + + +XX + +DENNIS + + +The odd thing was that his name was really Dennis. In the West, Dennis +stands genetically for the under dog, for the man who is left. His +name is--Dennis! Why? The man in this story was christened Dennis, +and, being a native son of the Golden West, he took particular pains +to keep the fact a secret from the "boys." When he punched cattle on +our range he was known as "Kingdom Come" Brown, because, even in those +days, it was plain to tenderfeet that physically and intellectually D. +Brown, cowboy, was not likely to inherit the kingdoms of the earth. + +Ever since he had been breeched ill-fortune had marked him for her +own. Nevertheless, he was rich in the possession of a temperament +which soared like a lark above suffering and disappointment. He +believed steadfastly that his "turn" would come. "It ain't goin' to be +like this yere--always," was a phrase familiar to us. To this we +replied, "Not much!" + +In our hearts we, too, believed that the turn would come, but that, +humanly speaking, it would occur in the sweet by-and-by. Hence the +nickname. The hardest nuts admitted that Brown was travelling upon the +rough road which leads upwards. His golden slippers were waiting for +him--sure! He set an example which none followed, but which all, in +sober moments, commended. He neither drank nor swore. He remained +faithful to the memory of a woman who had married somebody else. For +her sake he sold his horse and saddle, and became a lumber-man. The +losing of his Mamie was, of course, the heaviest of his many +bludgeonings. She was a simple soul, like D. Brown, inured to hard +work, and at the mercy of a drunken father, who had perilously escaped +by the very skin of his teeth from the clutches of Judge Lynch. To +give to Mamie a home had been the consuming desire of poor Dennis. For +this he pinched and saved till, at last, the needful sum lay snug in a +San Lorenzo bank. Then the bank "bust"! + +Without a word to Mamie, Dennis drifted away to some distant range, +and before he was seen again Tom Barker had appeared. Why Tom, a big, +brutal lumberman, desired to marry Mamie, no longer young, never +pretty, penniless, and admittedly fond of Dennis, must remain a +mystery. Why Mamie married Tom is a question easily answered. Tom was +"boss" of a logging-camp, and none had ever denied his Caesarean +attributes. He had the qualities and vices conspicuously absent in +Dennis. He was Barker, of Barker's Inlet. The mere mention of his name +in certain saloons was enough to put the fear of God into men even +bigger than himself. A sort of malefic magnetism exuded from every +pore of his skin. When he held up his finger Mamie crawled to him. She +believed, probably, that she was escaping from a drunken father, and +she knew that Tom could and would supply many things for which she had +yearned--a parlour, for instance, possibly a piano, and a silk dress. +She would have taken Dennis without these amenities, but Dennis had +fled to the back of Nowhere without even saying good-bye. + +Months after the marriage Dennis came back. Ajax described the wedding +and the subsequent flitting to Barker's Inlet. Dennis listened, +stroking his too thin, straggling moustache. Next day he sold his +horse and saddle. + +When he appeared at Barker's Inlet and asked for a job, Tom Barker +smiled. He had heard of Dennis, and he knew that Mamie had given to +Dennis what never would be given to him--the love and confidence of a +simple woman. Into his savage bull-head crept the determination to +torment these two unsophisticated creatures delivered by Fate to be +his slaves, and as such at his mercy. + +Accordingly, Dennis was engaged. + +Tom's position at the inlet must be defined. Some years before he had +been known as a timber-cruiser--that is to say, a man who "locates," +during his wanderings through forests primeval, belts of timber which +will be likely to allure the speculative lumberman. Barker, therefore, +had discovered the inlet which bore his name, and in consideration of +his services, and with a due sense of his physical and mental +qualifications, he had been appointed boss of the camp by the real +owners--a syndicate of rich men, who knew that logs were worth ten +dollars a thousand feet, and that the man to make them so was Tom +Barker. The syndicate wisely gave Tom a free hand, knowing that, in +everything which concerned the working of men and machinery to the +limit, Tom would begin at the point where their less elastic +consciences might leave off. The syndicate, therefore, remained in +Victoria, or Vancouver, or San Francisco, and said of Tom that he was +a rustler from "Way back, and as lively as they make 'em." + +It will be guessed that Tom's principal difficulty was engaging men. +Having engaged them, he was certain to get plenty of work out of them, +and they couldn't leave till they had earned sufficient money to take +themselves elsewhere. All the boys came to Tom stoney-broke; otherwise +they would never have "signed on." To be treated like a hog, to root +assiduously for Tom, or to starve, stared several able-bodied men in +the face. One genial Californian remarked, "It's a choice between +Death and Damnation." + +You will now understand why Tom smiled when Dennis Brown asked for a +job. + +He knew that Dennis was a cow-puncher, and not a star performer on his +own pitch, and he had only to look at the man to realise how unfitted +he was for the rough work of a logging-camp. A derisive chuckle +gurgled from his huge, hairy throat as he growled out-- + +"Say! This ain't like teachin' Sunday-school." + +"I know it ain't," said Dennis cheerfully. But his heart sank at the +mention of the Sunday-school. Long ago he had taught in a Sunday- +school. It was simply awful to think that the piety of a too ardent +youth was now to be held up to the ridicule of the boys. + +"I believe your name is--Dennis?" continued the boss of Barker's +Inlet. + +"It is," our unhappy friend admitted. + +"Go up to the bunk-house," commanded Tom, "and tell Jimmy Doolan, with +my regards, to take particler care of yer. I'll speak to him later." +Then, as Dennis was moving off, he added, in a rasping voice: "You an' +my wife is acquainted, eh? Wal, when you've dropped your blankets, +come up to the house and say howdy." + +Dennis went up to the house. There was one house at the inlet: a four- +roomed frame building with three coats of paint on it and a red roof. +It stood some distance from the collection of shacks and cabins at the +mouth of the Coho River, and it overlooked some of the most glorious +scenery in the world. In front stretched the Sound, a silver sea just +dimpled by the soft spring breeze. To right and left, and behind, lay +the forest--that silent land of the North, illimitable as space, +everlastingly green when the snows had melted, shadowy, mysterious, +terrible! + +As Dennis approached the house he heard a terrific sound--the crash of +a felled and falling tree--some giant who had held his own in the +struggle for existence when William the Norman ruled in England. And +then, from all points of the compass, the echoes, in varying cadence, +repeated that tremendous, awe-inspiring sound--the last sobbing cry of +a Titan. + +A moment later Mamie received him and ushered him into the parlour, +where a small piano, a table of shellwork, and crimson plush curtains +challenged the interest and curiosity of all who were privileged to +behold them. "Let me take yer hat," said Mamie. + +The hand she held out trembled slightly. Dennis perceived that she was +thinner and paler. + +"Yer well fixed," he murmured. "An' happy as a clam, I reckon?" + +"I'd oughter be happy," said Mamie dubiously. Then she added hastily, +"Never expected to see you in a logging-camp." + +"No? Wal, I kinder wondered how you was makin' it. You don't look +extry peart, Mis' Barker. Lonesome for ye, ain't it?" + +Already he knew that except for a few squaws she was the only woman in +the camp. + +"I don't mind that," said Mrs. Barker. + +Something in her tone arrested his attention. Stupid and slow though +he was, he divined that Mamie's thin, white cheeks and trembling hands +were not caused by lonesomeness. He stared at her intently, till the +blood gushed into her face. And then and there he knew almost +everything. + +"Got a baby?" he asked thickly. + +She answered savagely, "No, I haven't, thank God!" + +Above the chimneypiece hung an enlarged photograph of her husband, +taken a couple of days after his wedding. Mr. Barker had faced the +camera with the same brutal complacency which distinguished all his +actions. He smiled grimly, thrusting forward his heavy lower jaw, +inviting inspection, obviously pleased to exhibit himself as a +ferocious and untamed animal. Through the sleeves of his ill-cut black +coat the muscles of his arms and shoulders showed bulgingly. The +ordinary observer, looking at the photograph for the first time, would +be likely to reflect: "Here is a ruffian who needs a licking, but he +has not got it yet." + +"How's paw?" said Mamie. + +"Las' time I seen the old man he was paralysed drunk, as usual." + +"Yes, he would be that," assented Mamie indifferently. + +After this, conversation languished, and very soon the visitor took +his leave. When Mamie handed to him his hat she said awkwardly, "You +never told me good-bye"; and to this indictment Dennis replied +laconically, "Holy Mackinaw! I couldn't." + +Those who know the wilder portions of this planet will understand that +all was said between these two weaklings who had loved each other +dearly. Dennis returned to the bunk-house. Mamie ran to her bed-room +and cried her eyes out. + +Within a week the camp knew two facts concerning the newcomer. His +name was--Dennis! And he had loved Tom Barker's dough-faced wife! + +Tom's selection of his first instrument of torture indicated subtlety. +He bought from a Siwash Indian the most contemptible-looking cur ever +beheld at the inlet, and he christened the unfortunate beast--Dennis. +There was a resemblance between dog and man. Each, in the struggle for +existence, had received more than his due share of kicks, and the +sense of this in any animal manifests itself unmistakably. And each, +moreover, exhibited the same amazing optimism, which is, perhaps, a +sure sign of a mind not quite balanced. + +Dennis, the dog, followed his new master wherever he went. Tom would +introduce him with the remark, "His name is Dennis, _too_." And +if Dennis, the man, happened to be present, Tom would swear at the +dog, calling him every evil name which came to the tip of the foulest +tongue in British Columbia. Always, at the end of these commination +services, Tom would say to Dennis, the man, "I an't a-speakin' to you, +old socks, so keep yer hair on." + +That the cow-puncher (who, in his day, must have carried a "gun") did +keep on his hair became a topic of talk amongst the boys, confirming a +conviction that Dennis had been aptly named. Certainly he lacked +backbone and jawbone. Moreover, change of skies brought to him no +change of luck. Within a fortnight he was badly hurt, and obliged to +remain in bed for nearly a week. + +"I got mixed up with a log," he explained to Mamie. "It bruk loose, +an' I didn't quite get outer the way. See?" + +"Me, too," whispered Mamie. "Same trouble here--'zactly." + +Twice while he lay upon his back she brought to the bunk-house a +chocolate layer cake and some broth. Upon the occasion of her third +visit she came empty-handed, with her too pale eyes full of tears, and +her heart full of indignation. + +"I ain't got nothing," she muttered. "Tom says it's his grub." + +"That's all right," replied Dennis, noting that she walked stiffly. +"But, look ye here; he ain't been wallopin' ye, has he?" + +"Yes, he has. When he was through I tole him I'd sooner have his blows +than his kisses any day." + +"I hadn't oughter hev come here," said Dennis. + +"Never saw the sun shine till you did," murmured Mamie. + +At this he tried to take her hand, but she evaded his grasp. Then, +with an extraordinary dignity, looking deep into the man's eyes, she +said slowly: "I tole you that because it's God's truth, and sorter +justifies your comin'; but I aim ter be an honest woman, and you must +help me to remain so." + +With that she flitted away. + +Next day Dennis went back to work. And what work, for a man never at +best strong, and now enfeebled by severe pain and illness! Some +magnificent timber had been found a couple of miles inland, situated +not too far from the Coho. The experts had already felled, stripped, +and sawed into logs the huge trees. To Dennis and others remained the +arduous labour of guiding, with the help of windlasses, these immense +logs to the river, whence they would descend in due time to the inlet, +there to be joined together into vast rafts, later on again to be +towed to their destination. Of all labour, this steering of logs +through dense forest to their appointed waterway is the hardest and +roughest. Dennis, of course, wore thick gloves, but in spite of these +his hands were mutilated horribly, because he lacked the experience to +handle the logs with discretion. Even the best men are badly knocked +about at this particular job, and the duffers are very likely to be +killed outright. + +At the end of ten lamentable days Dennis came to the conclusion that +Tom Barker wanted to kill him by the Chinese torture of Ling, or death +by a thousand cuts. More than one of the boys said: "Why don't you get +what dough is comin' to ye and skip?" Dennis shook his head. Not being +able to explain to himself why he stayed, he held his tongue, and thus +gained a reputation for grit which lightened other burdens. Jim +Doolan, the big Irishman, was of opinion that Dennis Brown was little +better than a denied baby with a soft spot in his head, but he +admitted that the cow-puncher was "white," and obviously bent upon +self-destruction. By this time the camp knew that the boss was taking +an unholy interest in Dennis, although he continued to treat him with +derisive civility. The rage he couldn't suppress was vented upon the +dog. And Dennis never saw the poor beast kicked or beaten without +reflecting: "He does that to Mamie when nobody ain't lookin'." In his +feeble fashion he tried to interfere. Dollars to Tom Barker were +dearer than cardinal virtues, and he had never been known to refuse an +opportunity to make a bit on any deal. Dennis offered to buy the dog. + +"What's he worth?" said Tom, thrusting out his jaw. + +"I'll give five for him." + +"Five? For a dog that I've learned to love? Not much!" + +"Ten?" + +"Nope!" + +"Fifteen?" + +Tom laughed. + +"You ain't got money enough to buy him," he said. "I'm going to have +more fun than a barrel o' monkeys out o' this yere dog, and don't you +forget it!" + +After this Dennis, the Sunday-school teacher, the man whose golden +slippers were awaiting him in the sweet by-and-by, began to lie awake +at night and wrestle with the problem: "Is a man ever justified in +breaking the sixth commandment?" The camp held that Tom bore a charmed +life. Men had tried to kill him more than once, and had perished +ingloriously in the attempt. His coolness and courage were +indisputable. There are moments in a lumberman's business when nothing +will save an almost impossible situation but the instant exercise of +the most daring and devil-may-care pluck, determination, and skill. +Tom was never found wanting at such moments. To see him "ride a log" +was a sight to inspire admiration and respect in a Texas broncho- +buster. To kill such a superb animal might well rack a simple and +guileless cowboy whose name was--Dennis. + +It is relevant to mention that Dennis, the dog, licked the hand that +beat him, fawned upon the foot that kicked him, and rendered unto his +lord and master implicit and invariable obedience. The Siwash, his +former owner, had trained him to retrieve, and of this Tom took +shameless advantage. He would throw his hat or a glove or a stick into +the middle of a rapid, and the gallant Dennis would dash into the +swirling waters, regardless of colliding logs, fanged rocks, or spiky +stumps. One day the dog got caught. Tom, with an oath, leapt on to the +nearest log, from that to another and another till he reached the poor +beast, whom he released with incredible skill and audacity, returning +as he had come, followed by the dog. The boys yelled their +appreciation of this astounding feat. Jimmy Doolan asked-- + +"What in thunder made ye do that, Tom?" + +Tom scowled. + +"I dunno," he answered. "Dennis Brown knows that I think the world of +that cur." + +Within a fortnight, by an admittedly amazing coincidence, Dennis, the +man, was caught in a precisely similar fashion. As a "river-driver" +Dennis was beginning to "catch on." But he had not yet learned what he +could or could not do. River-drivers wear immense boots, heavily +spiked. Dennis upon this occasion had been sent with a crew to what is +technically called "sweep the river" after a regular drive. Such logs +as have wandered ashore, or been hung up in back eddies, are collected +and sent on to join the others. This is hard work, but exciting, and +not without its humours. Certain obstinate logs have to be coaxed down +the river. It would almost seem as if they knew the fate that awaited +them in the saw-pits, and in every fibre of their being exercised an +instinct for self-preservation. For instance, a log may refuse to pass +a certain rock in the river which has offered no obstruction whatever +to other logs. Then the lumberman, armed with his long pole, with its +spike to push and its sharp hook to pull, must reach that rock and +pull and prod the recalcitrant traveller on his appointed way. + +Dennis, in attempting this, had slipped upon the rock, and his heavy +boot had been caught and held between the log and the rock. Below was +a boiling rapid; above the river swirled in a heavy, oily mass. +Dennis, to save his life, held tight on to the rock. He was in the +position of the drunken Scot who dared not abandon his grip of the +rail of the refreshment bar, because if he let go he would fall down, +and if he did not let go he must miss his train. Dennis held on with +both hands. If he endeavoured to unfasten his boot, he would be swept +into the rapid; if he did not let go, and none came to his rescue, the +log would grind his leg to powder. + +Tom happened to see him and plunged into the river. Dennis had crawled +on to the rock from the other side, a feat easily achievable. Tom +might have gone round; any other man in the camp would have done so. +The odds were slightly against his reaching the rock, for the river +was running like a mill-race. + +Five minutes later both men, dripping wet, were safely ashore, and the +log was careering down stream! + +"Ye've saved my life," gasped Dennis. + +"Never seen such a blamed fool as you in all my days," replied Tom, as +he stared savagely into Dennis's mild blue eyes. "You'd hurt yerself +rockin' a baby's cradle, you would. 'Bout time you quit men's work, +ain't it?" + +"Not yet," said Dennis. + +During these weeks upon the river Dennis had not seen anything of +Mamie. Tom Barker, as supreme boss, visited all crews, and then +returned to his wife, with either a leer or a frown upon his face. She +had come to loathe the leer more than the frown. In the different +camps the boys told the same story-- + +"He knocks the stuffin' out of her!" + +The stay-at-home Briton, warm with roast beef and indigestion, will +wonder that one man amongst a hundred should be suffered to ill-treat +a thin, dough-faced little woman. Why did they not arise and slaughter +him? Had Tom stolen a colt in the cattle-country he would have been +lynched. Let publicists resolve the problem! + +Finally, one Sunday morning, Dennis and Mamie met again. + +"Holy Mackinaw!" exclaimed Dennis. + +"Anything wrong?" + +"Everything." + +"I don't understand." But, of course, she did. + +"It's God's truth, then, what the boys say?" + +She hung her head. + +"I thought he'd quit when I went up the river," said Dennis. "Say, +let's you an' me skin out o' this. I'll get my dough to-night." + +"Oh, Dennis!" she murmured, in piteous protestation, "we'd burn in +eternal torment." + +"We'd burn together," said Dennis. "Anyways, if this ain't torment, +and if Barker ain't Beelzebub himself, I'm a liar." + +She shook her head, with the tears streaming down her thin, white +cheeks. + +"Gee!" said Dennis, reduced to silence. + +"I tuk him for better and worse," sobbed Mamie. + +"You might ha' guessed that it would be worse," growled Dennis. Then, +desperately, he blurted out, "Because you're dead-set on keepin' the +seventh commandment, you're jest naterally drivin' me to break the +sixth." + +"What?" + +"I've said it. And he saved my life, too. But when I look at yer, I +get to thinking." His voice sank to a hoarse whisper. "I think lots, +nights. He comes back to ye alone, through them trees, and there's one +place where the pine needles is thick as moss. And I mind me what a +Dago told me onst. He'd killed his man, he had, stabbed him from +behind with a knife he showed me: jest an ordinary knife, only sharp. +An' he told me how he done it, whar to strike--savvy? It goes in +slick!" + +He stopped, seeing that Mamie was regarding him with wide-eyed horror +and consternation. + +"Dennis!" + +"Yes, my name's Dennis, right enough. That's the trouble. I hav'n't +the nerve to kill Barker, and you hav'n't the nerve to skip off with +me. Were two of a kind, Mamie, scairt to death of what comes after +death. And you know it. So long!" + +She caught at his arm. + +"You ain't a-goin' to leave the inlet?" + +"It's a mighty big country, this," Dennis replied austerely; "but I've +a notion it ain't quite big enough for Barker an' me. So long!" + +"I'm comin' up to-morrer, Dennis, to see 'em run the last rapid. Mebbe +you was fullish to leave the range?" + +He marked the interrogation in her tone, and answered, for him, almost +roughly-- + +"Mebbe I was, but not so fullish as you by a long sight!" + +With that he returned to the bunk-house. + +* * * * * + +Not half a mile from the inlet the Coho gathers itself together for +its last wild rush to salt water. And here there is a huge pool where +logs lie peacefully as alligators in the sun. At the end of the pool +the river flows gently in a channel free from rocks and snags. Then +the channel narrows, and a little farther on you behold the head of +the rapid, and half-way down the Coho Falls thunder everlastingly. +When the logs reach the falls they are meat for the mills. Nothing can +stop them then. One after another they rise on end to take the final +plunge. Some twist and writhe as if in agony, as if conscious that the +river and forest shall know them no more. Thousands have travelled the +self-same way; not one has ever returned. The lower rapid of the Coho +hardly deserves its name. Half a mile farther on it is an estuary +across which stretches the boom. + +The crews assembled on each side of the pool. The logs were pricked +into slow movement. This being duffers' work was assigned to the less +experienced. The picked river-drivers stood upon the rocks of the +upper rapid, pole in hand. And here, watching them with a lack-lustre +eye, stood Mamie in the shade of a dogwood tree in full blossom. Now +and again a soft white petal would fall upon the water and be swept +away. Above the hemlocks soughed softly. At her feet the giant +maidenhair raised its delicate fronds till they touched her cheek. + +She watched the logs go by in a never-ending procession. The scene +fascinated her, although, in a sense, she was singularly devoid of +either imagination or perception. Movement beguiled a woman whose own +life had been stagnant for five-and-twenty years. Deep down in her +heart was the unformulated but inevitable conviction that the logs +were moving and that she was standing still. Tom loomed large in the +immediate foreground. He, too, moved so swiftly that his huge form +lacked definition. She saw him snatch a pole from one of the men and +stab viciously at a log which refused to budge; and every time that +his arm rose and fell a little shudder trickled down her spinal +column. The log seemed to receive the blows apathetically. A bad jam +was imminent. She could hear Tom swearing, and the other logs floating +on and on seemed to hear him also, and tremble. His bull's voice rose +loud above the roar of the falls. Mamie looked down. At her feet +crouched Dennis, the dog, and he also was trembling at those raucous +sounds, and Mamie could feel his thin ribs pressing against her own +thin legs. + +At that moment light came to her obscure mind. She was like the log. +She refused to budge, funked the plunge, submitting to unending blows, +and words which were almost worse than blows. And by her obstinacy and +apathy she was driving the best man on God's earth to premeditated +murder. + +That morning, let us remember, Tom had beaten the dog, and because she +had interfered with a pitiful protest her husband had struck her close +to the temple. Ever since this blow she had heard the roar of the +falls with increasing intensity. + +"Why don't it move?" she asked herself. + +As she put the question the log did move, borne away by the full +current. Mamie, followed by the dog, ran after it, with her eyes +aflame with excitement. Dennis barked, divining something uncanny, +eager to distract the mind of his mistress from what seemed to be +engrossing it. Still she ran on, with her eyes upon the log. The dog +knew that she must stop in a moment, that no one could pass the falls +unless they went over them. Did he divine also that she meant to go +over them--that at last, with her poor, imperfect vision, she had seen +that way out of captivity? + +She reached the point where farther advance was impossible. To her +right rose a solid wall of stone; opposite rose its twin; between the +two the river rushed tumultuously, tossing the great logs hither and +thither as if they were spilikins. + +Mamie watched her own log. After its goadings it kept a truer course +than most of its fellows. But she had outstripped it. Standing upon +the edge of the precipice, feeling the cold spray upon her face, +hearing the maddening roar of the monster below, less to be feared +than that other monster from whom she realised that she had escaped, +she waited for the final plunge.... + +What was passing in her mind at this supreme moment? We may well +believe that she saw clearly the past through the mists which obscured +the future. Always she had been a log at the mercy of a drunken +father. Her mother had died in giving birth to her, but she knew +vaguely that this mother was a Church member. She did not know--and, +knowing, could never have understood--that from her she had inherited +a conscience--or shall we call it an ineradicable instinct?--which +constrained her to turn aside, shuddering, from certain temptations, +to obey, without reasoning, certain ethical laws, solemnly expounded +to her by a Calvinistic grandmother. But Nature had been too much for +her. Even as she had turned instinctively and with horror from the +breaking of a commandment, so also she had selected the mate who +possessed in excess the physical qualities so conspicuously lacking in +her. She had fallen a victim, and a reluctant victim, to the law of +compensation. When Tom Barker held up his finger and whistled, she +crawled to him. + +The log, slightly rolling, as if intoxicated, neared the brink of the +falls. And then it stopped again, where the river was narrowest and +the current strongest. No log had stopped in this place before; Mamie +saw that it was caught by a small rock, and held fast by the other +logs behind it. + +"It won't go over," she murmured. + +Within a minute a terrific jam impended. Across the river Tom was +swearing horribly; and between husband and wife rose a filmy cloud of +spray upon which were imprinted the mysterious colours of the rainbow, +which, long ago, Mamie had been taught to regard as the most wonderful +symbol in the world--God's promise that in the end good should triumph +over evil. + +Afraid to move, fascinated, she stood still, staring at the rainbow. + +Presently Tom disappeared. When he returned Mamie could see him very +plainly. He had a stick of dynamite and a fuse. Mamie saw him glance +at his watch and measure the fuse. Then, leaping from log to log, he +approached the one in midstream which lay passive, blocking the +advance of all the others. With splendid skill and daring he adjusted +the dynamite upon the small rock which held the log, and lit the fuse. +He returned as he had come, and Mamie could hear the cheers of the men +upon the opposite bank. + +"It'll hev to go now," she reflected. + +At this moment Dennis, the dog, must have realised that his master had +left something behind on the rock. Mamie saw him spring from log to +log, and then, holding the dynamite between his teeth, with the +spluttering fuse still attached, follow his master. + +"Tom!" she screamed. "Look out!" + +Tom turned and saw! And the others--Dennis Brown, Mamie, the river- +drivers--saw also and trembled. Tom began to curse the dog, adjuring +him to go back, to drop it, _drop IT_, DROP IT! + +But the faithful creature, who had risked life to retrieve sticks +thrown into fierce rapids, ran steadily on. Mamie saw the face of her +husband crumble into an expression of hideous terror and palsy. His +lips mouthed inarticulately, with his huge hands he tried to push back +the monstrous fate that was overtaking him. + +The dog laid the dynamite at his master's feet at the moment when it +exploded. + +* * * * * + +And the man whose name was Dennis knew that his turn had come at last. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bunch Grass, by Horace Annesley Vachell + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUNCH GRASS *** + +***** This file should be named 10372.txt or 10372.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/3/7/10372/ + +Produced by Larry Mittell and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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